Spock was definitely the Jolly Green Giant.
Jim had anticipated this, of course, long before he finally got him into the sack. After all, he knew Spock’s blood was green; the one time Spock had cried (four months after his mother’s death, when he and Jim had finally taken the first tentative steps towards friendship), his eyes had been faintly green-rimmed, and on the rare occasions when he blushed (like the first time Jim had taken his hand and wound their fingers together, not realizing that for a Vulcan, this was going to third base), his skin possessed a lovely green hue, sort of a cross between jade and peridot.
So when Jim at long last coaxed Spock into his quarters and out of his pants, he was fully prepared for a column of green, which is exactly what Spock possessed. And frankly, it was gorgeous, rising like a carved pillar of verdant marble from a patch of silky black hair. It certainly didn’t turn Jim off. In fact, his mouth literally watered at the sight, and he could not only feel himself getting as hard as he ever had in his life, he could actually feel his opening twitch ever so slightly at the prospect of possibly riding that luscious green pole. He stripped off his own clothes in record time and held out his arms.
“Come here,” he said seductively, only to freeze at the look of—horror? Yeah, that was probably the word—on Spock’s face.
“What’s wrong?” Jim asked, wondering if Spock had thought all the time that Jim was a cross-dressing chick.
Spock blushed that wonderful springtime shade. “I…I am sorry,” he said. He glanced down. “I…I did not realize…it…it is pink!”
Jim burst out laughing.
“I guess you haven’t seen many naked human males.” He stepped forward and wrapped Spock in his arms. “It works just fine,” he murmured into one pointed ear, “all color issues aside. Here. Let me show you.”
And he did.
After that night, pink was suddenly Spock’s favorite color.