Ku tor Ku
The living room was dark but for the dim, flickering glow emanating from the fireplace. On the thick carpeting before the fire, Jim lay half sprawled across his lover, their bodies entwined in a lazy embrace. Their fingers stroked reverent patters into each other’s skin.
“It’s like a kiss, isn’t it?” Jim asked quietly, unwilling to break the mellow quiet that had descended in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
“Not precisely,” Spock replied in an equally subdued tone, his fingers smoothing down Jim’s palm to gently stroke and circle his wrist. “It is a complicated matter, to try and translate the cultural significance of an action such as this, especially with such a tactile race as humans.”
Spock slid his free hand into Jim’s hair, messaging his scalp with gentle fingers.
“Vulcans, as you know, are touch telepaths. For a telepath, it is important to maintain psychic contact with another to promote mental and emotional stability.”
“Emotional stability, Spock?” Jim murmured with amusement.
“Yes, Jim. Surakian principals promote the complete control and suppression of emotion; they do not deny their existence.”
Jim gently reciprocated Spock’s caress, his calloused fingers smoothing over the back of his lover’s hand in silent apology.
“And this psychic contact; it’s called a bonding?”
“Yes. There are several different types of bonds in Vulcan society. They vary in… many ways.”
“I am not certain a psi-null would be able to appreciate the nuances of Vulcan bondings outside of generalities.”
“Alright,” Jim conceded.
He laced his fingers through Spock’s and brought their joined hands to rest on Spock’s chest.
“The first bond a Vulcan forms is with his parents. At the eighth month of gestation, the psychic abilities of the fetus begin to develop. The mother will retreat into a deep meditative trance and search for the awareness of the fetus, then link their minds. Once the link has stabilized, at approximately eleven months, the father will meld with her, follow the bond to the child’s mind, and create his own.”
Jim frowned. “How did your mother manage that?”
“She was unable to bond with me until after I was born. It was considered the single greatest failing in my upbringing, and those who knew of it hypothesized that it was the principal factor that caused my lack of control.”
The detached quality of his voice wasn’t enough to fool Jim into believing Spock's antipathy. He pressed a soothing kiss into Spock's chest.
Spock continued. “After birth, the new family and extended clan members will attend a special ceremony similar to a christening in ancient Christian tradition. The uzh-keshtu is presented to the clan, who individually come forward to personally greet the child. They anoint him with tvidon’es’masu. It is a clear liquid the consistency of vegetable oil, made from a rare desert flower on Vulcan called Rykot. Rykot was used in ancient times by the mind-adepts to focus their psychic energies. It has a fascinating cellular structure, not too dissimilar from –”
Spock twitched when his impatient lover nipped none-too-gently at his naked collar bone. Jim soothed the bite with his tongue.
“The ceremony, Mister Spock,” Jim prompted.
“Yes. The… purpose of the ceremony is to choose the child’s en'ahr'atlar. Their function is similar to a Terran godparent. They form a secondary parental bond with the child, vowing to guide him, and care for him should misfortune or disgrace befall his house.”
“Who’s your ‘eneritlar’?”
“En’ahr’atlar,” Spock corrected. “You have never met them. The first is my cousin T’Rel, the second my aunt T’Lira.”
Jim began twisting his fingers into Spock’s chest hair, cataloging its alien coarseness. “Is it unusual to have two women as godparents?”
“No. It is not a question of gender, but rather mental compatibility. During the ceremony, the tvidon’es’masu enhances the child’s weak psychic abilities so he might seek out a worthy guardian. The clan members have no control over whom the child will choose, although they can limit how many en’ahr’atlar are selected. My clan allows for two guardians to be picked; more commonly, there are three.”
“Mm. And after the christening?”
“At seven years of age there is the Telan t'Kanlar.”
“T’Pring,” Jim supplied bitterly.
“Yes,” Spock said, his voice growing contemplative. “She was my koon’ul. Selected for me from a host of candidates by a mind-adept and my father.”
“I don’t want to talk about her.”
Spock ran his other hand up the ladder of Jim’s spine, where it came to a rest on the back of his neck.
After a minute or two, when Spock failed to continue his lecture, Jim pulled away from the static caress. Propping himself up on his elbows, he gazed with some concern into the dark, brown eyes that were no doubt recalling the image of his body sprawled lifelessly across hot desert sands.
“Spock,” Jim called, dropping a kiss to his lover’s slack lips.
Spock started, as if coming back to himself, and reciprocated the gesture, his lips soft and almost apologetic against Jim’s. Jim allowed Spock to roll him onto his back, and wrapped his arms tight around him when Spock trailed a line of penitent kisses over the invisible marks marring his neck.
“You must know—”
“I do,” Jim assured him.
They settled on their sides facing each other, as Spock’s weight was too much for Jim to support on his own. Spock rubbed his fingers over Jim’s cheek, until the human captured them with his own and brought them to his lips for a gentle kiss.
“You never told me what this means,” Jim prompted.
“This joining of the hands can signify different things Vulcan culture. Always, it indicates a close attachment between the individuals touching, as a willingness to engage in physical contact of any kind indicates a lack of concern over accidental telepathic contact. It is a sign of … psychic familiarity, an abiding and unconditional acceptance of another’s mind.”
“There is the el'ru'esta –” Spock positioned their hands so they pressed together gently from palm to fingertips, which were spread into the Ta’al, “the ‘hand embrace.’ It is a welcoming, or affectionate gesture Vulcans share with family members, or those they have claimed as family.”
“There is also the ozh’esta, or ‘finger embrace.’”
When Spock tucked his thumb, pinky and ring fingers into his palm, Jim copied the movement with a small, but radiant smile.
“For bondmates,” he supplied, gladly meeting Spock’s reaching fingers halfway.
“Yes,” Spock agreed softly, “for bondmates.”
“But I still don’t understand,” Jim said, bemusement coloring his continued warmth. “Why hands?”
“The hands are the centre of physic contact for a vulcan. In ancient times when these gestures were exchanged, the participants would open their minds during the contact, so that their essences would join through the touch. It is a more symbolic practice today, as it is considered indecent to allow such a mingling in public.”
“So, I should be able to feel you right now? Like a meld?”
Spock shook his head. “No. As a psi-null, you would be incapable of sensing my mind, but if I were to broadcast…”
Jim gasped as a sudden heat fizzled in his blood.
Spock peered at his lover with concern. “Are you well, Jim? I did not intend-“
Jim cut Spock off with a sudden kiss, his tongue sliding past Spock’s lips forcefully. He pulled away for the briefest of moments to straddle his lover, and then his lips were back on Spock’s, battling the Vulcan for control. Spock’s hands clenched at Jim’s hips with the perfect amount of force, and guided them into a slow, teasing rocking that sent a jolting ache straight through Jim’s groin.
“Does it always feel like that?” Jim gasped as he pulled himself from his lover, rearing back for better leverage as he circled his hips more forcefully against Spock’s.
“I suspect--” the Vulcan’s eyes slipped closed as Jim reached down to fondle him. A miniscule gasp escaped his lips. “I suspect that your limited psychic capabilities have forced your brain to interpret our mental contact as--” Spock broke off with a low groan as Jim clenched his fist around him.
“You were saying Mister Spock?” Jim panted as he leaned down to nip Spock’s bottom lip.
He slid his lips up to the Vulcan’s temple, where he sucked briefly at the skin there. Spock bucked almost violently in response, nearly throwing Jim off, who laughed breathlessly before sliding his tongue into the warm cavern of Spock’s ear.
“Captain,” Spock groaned, his hands digging exquisite bruises into Jim’s hips.
Jim bit the inside of his cheek. The sound of Spock moaning out his title in such a wanton manner was easily the most erotic thing he had ever heard. His cock pulsed demandingly in response, and his earlier plans to ride his First Officer into submission suffered an instantaneous death.
He cast his gaze about the room, squinting in the low light as he searched for the previously discarded lube. Only a few feet above his lover’s head, peaking from the bottom of a pillow, the light blue bottle glinted in the low light, promising wicked delights upon its retrieval. Jim leaned over Spock to quickly snatch up the bottle, deliberately rubbing his stomach across the Vulcan’s weeping cock as he did so.
He nearly dropped it when sharp teeth captured his nipple, scraping across it with wonderfully painful precision. A smooth tongue traced his areola, and then his nipple was drawn into Spock’s mouth, the suction increasing steadily as Spock found his other nipple with two deft fingers and twisted it roughly.
Jim rutted mindlessly against Spock as a guttural cry ripped itself from his throat. He tore himself away from Spock, another whimpering moan wringing itself from his throat as his nipples pulled free of the excruciating torment Spock had lavished upon them. With single-minded desperation, Jim rolled off Spock just long enough to slick his cock with lube, then forced his way between Spock’s legs, fingers probing at Spock’s tight hole. It seemed to take an interminable time to prepare the Vulcan for his girth, but at long last that tight ring of muscle surrendered to Jim’s thrusting fingers.
Jim hiked Spock’s legs up over his forearms, and finally slid home, settling into an erratic, arrhythmic pace.
Spock quivered alarmingly in Jim’s embrace, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Jim’s sweat slicked back. Jim didn’t know if Spock was wordlessly begging him to stop or continue, but he made a peculiar, hiccoughing sound when Jim changed the angles of his thrusts, and the human was willing to bet the Enterprise that the sound hadn’t been a protest.
He thrust faster, taking care to hit that spot with as much jolting force as possible, and was rewarded with the sight of Spock’s lips parting in a silent scream as he ejaculated across his stomach.
He groaned and dropped his head as Spock spasmed around him. “Oh, god!”
Jim gritted his teeth and forced his gaze back to Spock’s face, which was gradually slackening with afterglow.
“Open your eyes,” Jim ordered as his arms began to shake with the strain of supporting himself and Spock’s suddenly slack weight.
Spock obeyed, and it was the thoroughly fucked out, debauched look in his dilated pupils that sent Jim skittering over the edge.
Sometime later, Jim opened his eyes blearily when the sensation of a warm washcloth sliding against the sensitive skin of his genitals jolted him from a light doze. He groaned slightly in protest, but allowed Spock to gently wipe the traces of their joining from his skin.
Jim hummed in contentment when Spock finished, and rolled onto his side, tugging the Vulcan with him. Spock complied with the wordless request, settling himself at Jim’s back with one arm pillowed beneath Jim’s cheek and the other draped across his waist.
Jim gripped Spock’s index and middle finger loosely in his hand, and drifted back to sleep.