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For the KS Advent Calendar 2013.

Captain James T. Kirk stirred sluggishly from his slumber.  He registered, through the pounding pain and slightly blurred vision of a stupidly untreated hangover, the familiar bulkhead of his own cabin.  He groaned and rolled over, or tried to.

Hangovers are funny things.  They can hang around all morning, almost all day.  Or, like this one, they can morph instantly from an overwhelming and debilitating presence to a mere background ache within a split second.  It depends really on what you find in your bed the morning after.  The long, hard limbs and heavy, overheated body next to Jim did not budge a millimeter when he rolled over and bumped into them.  But the sleepy, dark, beguiling eyes that blinked open and stared at him reproachfully had all the give in the world in them.  So much give, in fact, that for a second Jim was sure his bedmate was not actually Vulcan.

“Good morning, Jim,” purred the deep, satiated, affectionate tones of his First Officer.

Jim swallowed and managed to respond, after quite an indecent amount of time, “Um.  Spock?”

“Merry Christmas,” the voice was deeper, smoother, more affectionate.  Not the sort of voice you would expect from a Vulcan unless he was drugged into a near stupor, or maybe recovering from a really bad hangover.

Kirk made a vaguely affirmative noise and stared stupidly at Spock.

A shiver of unease passed through the body he was pushed firmly up against, and a thin cloud of doubt appeared on the alien features.

“I hope you did not mind that I am here, Jim.  Given the circumstances,” and the voice took on the deep, throaty characteristics of a purring jaguar, “I thought it appropriate.  However, if human custom dictates, I will depart now.” Spock’s eyes had an intent question in them, as though Jim’s answer were a matter of life and death.

“A… bu-bu-ah, yes, it’s… um… fine. That you’re here, I mean.  Ah… yes.”

“Are you alright Jim?”

“Ah, fine.”

“So you wish me to stay?”

“Yes.”  Jim Kirk was not a starship captain by virtue of ignoring serendipity in any of its many guises; certainly not when serendipity threw an apparently uber-contented, possibly post-coital, and definitely mysterious Vulcan into his bed on Christmas morning.  Now, if only he could figure out how Spock had arrived in his bed, he could stop feeling like he might possibly be still asleep and dreaming, and start taking advantage of his excellent good fortune.  Don’t blow it, Jim thought frantically to himself.

“Of course I wish you to stay!” Jim blurted out, a little too loudly.

Spock nudged his incredibly, hard, hot, smooth limbs up against Jim a little more and asked in the same purring, deep tones that had been unravelling his captain since they awoke, “Do you wish to kiss me?”

Jim’s mouth fell open, and it must have looked seductive to the Vulcan, for Spock leaned in slightly to close the gap between them, and the captain moved belatedly too, not wanting to seem reluctant to partake in any activity which might persuade Spock to remain in his bunk.

Their lips met, and Jim felt all his nerves dissolve.  It was an odd sensation, not unlike being dipped in warm honey.  His toes felt like they had melted off his body.  He kissed Spock carefully, letting the Vulcan take the lead.  Spock’s kiss was enthusiastic but careful, just what you would expect from a Vulcan lover being careful not to hurt delicate human tissue.  But it also felt utterly familiar to Jim, and he was suddenly convinced that he and Spock must have kissed many times the night before.  Damn his life that he couldn’t remember any details of their first encounter!

Spock’s hands curled, hot and strong, around Jim’s body and the captain felt like he was being molded like warm plastic onto the Vulcan’s hot skin.  Spock drew in a deep breath and released it slowly to tickle over Jim’s neck like a heated breeze.  Jim discovered a kink he didn’t realize he had.  But something was nagging at him.  Jim murmured, “So, about last night…”

“Yes?”

Dammit, thought Jim, then tried again, “I thought you might want to talk about what happened.”  He ghosted seductive kisses up and down Spock’s neck, on the theory that what the Vulcan was trying to turn him on with, was probably what turned Spock on.  It seemed to work, because Spock’s body instantly became more malleable against Jim’s.

Spock’s reply, however, was frustratingly vague, “I’m all ears.”

Jim hid the frustration in his eyes, then tracked his kisses up to those pointed ears and took a chance by saying, “Oh, I remember.”

“You do?” whispered Spock, but then gasped as Jim took one of those pointed ear tips gently in his lips and nibbled.

“Yes.”

The Vulcan was silent, and Jim risked a glance down, only to see a mysterious smile on Spock’s face.  Dammit, why is he smiling?

The captain whispered into a trembling ear tip, “So, was it everything you expected?”

Spock turned his head around to capture Jim’s lips in a warm, lingering kiss, then broke it off to suggest gently, “You tell me.”

Jim’s level of frustration was rapidly nearing breaking point, and he suppressed a brief sigh.  He said cryptically, “Do I have to?” and ran his lips up the side of Spock’s cheek to kiss inward along the silky black eyebrow, then back to slide outwards up the slanting black line of hair.  Spock closed his eyes and leaned into the pressure.

“I suppose not,” murmured the Vulcan, and Jim could not quite shake the impression from his mind that the Vulcan’s voice contained the barest hint of… amusement?  Jim ground his teeth and Spock started in his arms.

“Forgot about your hearing.”

“That was…” Spock paused as Jim ran his lips along the opposite eyebrow, and the Vulcan sucked in a quick breath, “… unexpected.”

“Unexpected?”

“Are you frustrated about something, Jim?  I have only heard humans grind their molar platforms together laterally when they have been in situations which typically produced the emotion of frustration.”

“I’m fine.  I don’t think I could be called frustrated in any way, shape or form at the moment.  Will you stay?”

Spock forgot himself for a moment in his surprise at Jim’s sudden change of direction “Captain?”

“Will you stay here, today, in my cabin?  We are both off duty.”

“If that is your wish,” whispered Spock, sounding almost reverent.

“Yes.  Definitely.”

Spock said abruptly, “I should shower.”

In a second the Vulcan warmth was gone, replaced by air and a sense of confusion for Jim.  “Wh-what, now?”

“Yes, now,” came back the dark voice from the direction of the facilities between their cabins.  Jim eyed the computer console and waited about ten seconds.

In the shower, Spock hesitated and listened before turning on the water jets.  He heard a swish, a slight murmur and the hum of the computer coming to life, then Jim’s voice, pitched low, but not low enough, “Ship’s surveillance logs, main mess…. 2300 hours yesterday until… 0700 this morning.”  Spock raised an eyebrow and did not smile as he stepped into the shower.  It was an effort.

The icy cold jets of water hit Spock and had the desired effect of knocking the breath out of his body and the blood out of his erection.  Spock controlled his breathing carefully, not letting the shock of the cold water affect him otherwise, then suppressed the small surge of pride at controlling that emotion.

Out in the cabin, Jim shrugged on a robe, then frantically used his computer console to run through the mess logs at high speed.  There was Spock, standing almost at attention in the crowded mess at midnight.  Evidently not inebriated in any way, despite the activity around him, and despite his obviously very inebriated Captain leaning heavily on his arm.  Jim cringed as he watched himself lean over and plant an affectionate kiss on Spock’s cheek, and worse, with his hands all over Spock’s arms in a manner which Spock would never have tolerated from anyone, drunk or sober.  Yet the Vulcan merely tilted his head towards Jim briefly, his lips not moving, and looking... affectionate? Jim felt his insides curl with embarrassment as he noticed his fingers entwining affectionately with Spock’s, and noticed the Vulcan’s cheeks flush slightly as he gently extricated the captain’s hand from his.

But then Doctor McCoy arrived in the picture, wrapped an affectionate arm around Jim, and said something cheerful to Spock.  Spock turned solemnly, nodded to them both, bowed slightly… and left the mess.

Jim blinked and replayed the scene, shook his head, then muttered, “First Officer’s cabin, midnight on.”

The screen reddened.  The scene showed Spock’s quarters.  The doors swished open to admit Spock who walked in and stopped a few paces inside the door as it swished shut behind him.  He touched his own cheek, looked down and ran a hand down his arm and traced his fingers carefully, then looked back at the cabin door with an unreadable expression.  Then he turned to his bathroom and entered it.  Two minutes later he emerged in his sleep blacks, placed himself carefully on his bed and closed his eyes.

Jim blinked again.  He stared at the screen with a puzzled frown, and fast forwarded it.  The Vulcan did not move, so Jim increased the playback speed to maximum, until Spock abruptly disappeared from the bunk, then the screen went black.  Jim backtracked and slowed the movement down.  Spock was lying on his bed, apparently asleep, then sat up abruptly, tilted his head as though listening, and then stood up, looked directly at the surveillance screen and said, “Cease recording.”

Jim felt frustration sluice through his veins, then heard a noise from the shower. Hastily he shut down the computer screen and dived back onto the bed, flopping down as though asleep.

A warm Vulcan hand touched his shoulder and pressed gently.  Jim rolled over, not having to feign the confusion in his eyes.

“You’re in uniform?” Jim asked blurrily.

Spock toyed with the front of his captain’s robe, running his fingers down the opening and pulling it aside a little.  “I have certain minimal duties to which I must attend when both of us are off the bridge for the day, also there is a science experiment which will not bear neglect for 48 hours.  I will return in one hour and fifteen minutes, Jim.”

Jim shrugged sleepily, and said, “Okay.”

Spock leaned down and kissed him again, in that way that Jim was sure was going to melt him into the bulkhead of his ship one day, but then the Vulcan pulled back with a slight frown, “You seem distracted, Jim.  Is there some problem which commands your attention?”

Jim hesitated, then agreed, “Yes, but nothing important, Spock.  Just something I need to figure out.”

“I have every faith in your ability to solve any puzzle, Jim.”

Jim nodded, “See you when you get back.”

He watched Spock leave the cabin, then leapt for the computer console again.  “Captain’s cabin, 0100 this morning on.”

He watched himself stagger predictably in through the doors and make it into his bunk, then proceed to sleep.  Jim frowned and fast forwarded the motion, but he was still sleeping at 0200, 0300…. he ran it through to 0700 with no change. Then the screen went black.  Someone had turned off the log manually.  Jim looked nonplussed.

“Main mess log, 0400 hours this morning on.”

He saw bodies strewn around the mess in the traditional Christmas aftermath.  One voice in particular was waxing strong about the merits of Kentucky Bourbon, and a slurred Scots brogue was disputing it.  Jim ordered, “Starboard, ninety degrees,” and Bones and Scotty swung into view, draped over each other and glaring intently at each other’s drinks.  Jim sped them up until they disappeared, then backtracked until he saw them stagger out of the mess together, and heard Bones distinctly say, “Gonna find Spock, he never sleeps.”

Jim lifted his head, “Bones!”  He hit the intercom, and said, “Dr McCoy.”

“Dr McCoy is not available this morning unless it is an emergency,” intoned the computer.

“Captain’s override.  Bones!”

The language which greeted him was colourful, but Jim did not care.  His need to find out what had happened the night before between him and Spock was now burning in his mind.

“Where are you?” he asked Bones.

The doctor grumbled, “In my own bunk, where I ought to be.  Go away.  Unless you’re bleeding from the eyeballs in which case go to sickbay and annoy Christine.”

“I need to talk to you.”

The language developed several more hues.

“Stay there.  I’ll come to your cabin, Bones.”

Jim managed to get dressed and get to Bones’ quarters in record time and even without his head dropping off on the way, although by the time he arrived he had sworn off rum for life.  He tapped quietly on the door and it swished open.

Bones snapped, “What in the blue blazes is so important that you have to interrupt a man when he’s dying?”

There was a long silence from Jim.

Bones said, “Dammit, answer me, man!”

“Spock, it’s Spock.”

“Ain’t it always.  What’s he done this time?”  Bones’ voice was gravel.

“Did you find him last night after you left the mess?” asked Jim.

“Ah.  No.  Funny thing that.  I went to his cabin, might have actually used my medical override, and he wasn’t there.”

“You didn’t see him?  You didn’t talk to him?  Dammit!”

“Has he gone missing?” the doctor’s voice was almost concerned, but it was obviously an effort.

“No, he’s on the bridge.”

Bones gave him an evil look “Then piss off and let me die in peace.”  He rolled over and Jim left the cabin, none the wiser.

Jim got back to his cabin, his face pinched in thought.  Eventually he tried, “Computer? All voice activated log records, First Officer Spock, midnight today until now.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Spock’s face appeared on his screen and said, “Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

Jim recovered quickly, but saw the glint of amusement in Spock’s eyes as the Captain replied, “Kirk here.”

“Status report, Captain.  All systems normal, handing over to Mr Kyle.”

“Thank you, Mister Spock.”

“Spock out.”

Jim went to his cabinet and poured himself a stiff rum on the rocks.  Perhaps a hair of the dog would dispel the lingering effects of his hangover and help him to focus.  He came back to the computer screen, “Computer, get me those voice activated log records.”

“Computer log records were overridden by Mr Spock’s transmission, Captain.”

“Seriously?  Tell me another one.”

“Which log would you like to access, sir?”

“I was being sarcastic, you bag of bolts-” Jim stopped himself, realizing the futility of arguing with the computer. “Forget it.”

He took a few deep breaths, “I’m going to regret this, but, Computer, do you have any record of what transpired in my cabin or Mr Spock’s cabin between midnight and 0700 hours this morning?”

The answer was damnably quick, “No, sir.”

Why not?”

“I am not programmed to respond in that area.”

“Bullshit you aren’t.  This is the Captain speaking!”

“You have not asked a question.  Response presupposes a query.”

It was Jim’s turn to come out with some colourful language.  He sat down, slammed his fist down on the ‘off’ button on the computer console and put his head in his hands just as the cabin door swished open and Spock entered.  The Vulcan stood surveying him.

“Jim?  Is something wrong?”

Jim looked up at Spock and considered lying, but suddenly he realized that of all people, Spock deserved the truth.  Jim hesitated, then was overcome with a wave of despair as he finally admitted, “Spock, I don’t remember anything that happened between us last night.  I’m so sorry, I must have been just so drunk.  God, I’m sorry.”

This, thought Jim, is where the best thing that ever walked into my life or slid naked into my bed, realizes what a big mistake he’s made and turns around and walks out.  He’ll probably ask for a transfer to another ship.

Spock walked slowly over and stood before him.  Jim felt a faint sliver of hope ghost across him as he looked up into his first officer’s face, then frowned as he saw a strange expression cross Spock’s face.  Was it guilt?

“Jim,” the deep voice was gentle and definitely apologetic.  Jim looked up, then was surprised when Spock squatted down before him and took his hand, playing gently with his wrist and fingers, “Nothing happened between us last night.”

Jim felt reality suck back away from him like a tide receding.  “What?”

“When you assumed that it had, I did not have the heart to tell you otherwise.”

“You… wait, you were in my bed this morning.”

“Yes.”

“Kind of buck naked,” Jim explained carefully.

“Agreed.” Spock was looking amused again.

“So what do you call that?”

“A gift.”

“A gift?”

“A Christmas gift which I was not sure you would welcome.”

There was a long, long silence.  Jim sat pondering whether he would have had the courage to do what Spock did, to crawl into Spock’s bed stark naked in the slim hope that the Vulcan would welcome his presence.  He looked into Spock’s eyes, “That took courage.”

“Yes,” agreed Spock, “But the reward was more than commensurate with the risk.”

“Is that why you left the cabin this morning?  You were like a cat on a hot tin roof.  Did you think that I didn’t want you here?”

“No, that was -  when I realized that you had assumed that we had engaged in… sexual congress, you presented me with a conundrum.  I did not wish to indulge in such activities again whilst you were still under the impression that it was not our first episode of intimacy.  I felt that would be… cheating you, of that experience.  However, my own desires were such, after your warm reception of my presence, that I could not guarantee controlling my own urges.”

Spock’s hands had entwined themselves in Jim’s by now in a fashion which Jim found curiously endearing.  Spock continued to explain, “And further physical contact would in all likelihood have led to an inadvertent meld, which would have, as you say, ‘let the cat out of the bag,’ so I could not risk staying.”

“You are unbelievably devious, you know that, Spock?”

“Thank you, Captain.  Merry Christmas.”

“We have fifteen more hours left to make it just that, Spock.”

An elegant eyebrow rose, “What did you have in mind, Jim?”

“Gee, I don’t know.  I have a warm bed and a willing Vulcan… and an invitation to sexual congress yet to be experienced.” Jim was smiling like a Cheshire cat now.  “And by the way, not taking advantage of me when I was drunk?  That was pretty cool of you, Spock.”

“So,” said Spock hopefully, hiking an eyebrow towards the bunk, “Shall we?”  He stood up, not letting go Jim’s hands as he did so, pulling the human to his feet.

“Oh yeah,” breathed Jim and followed Spock as the Vulcan backed towards the bunk.  Spock stopped when the edge of the bunk touched the back of his legs, and released Jim’s hands, then began to carefully remove the captain’s shirt.  He dropped it on the floor and a Jim saw a shiver run through Spock’s body as he surveyed his shirtless captain.  The Vulcan leaned in and captured his lip in a brief kiss, then kissed across his cheek, and onto his neck.  Jim breathed, “Spock….”

Spock’s hands were unfastening Jim’s trousers, and Jim suddenly remembered that the Vulcan was still dressed and hastily began working on Spock’s clothes.  The alien skin felt hotter than usual to his touch, and fluttered under Jim’s fingers wherever he touched.

Jim squatted down and removed Spock’s boots and the Vulcan kicked them away, then pushed Jim onto the bed to remove his trousers and boots, the hot hands slipping beneath them to slide along Jim’s legs as he did so.  Jim felt a shudder go all through him as he rolled Spock, now naked, underneath him.  Jim tried to say something but could not, as he took in the long, hard, green-tinged body, the slightly open mouth, and the huge dark eyes beneath him.

He lowered himself onto Spock’s body and kissed him, and was rewarded with a noise of pure surrender, an inarticulate moan of pleasure from Spock that went through Jim like a knife through butter and turned all his nerves to fire.  Then he realized why, as Spock’s hand rose up to his face hesitantly in a sort of automatic response to the physical contact that had connected, Jim realized, not only their bodies, but their nerves.  He nodded and whispered, “Take the meld.”

The hand came quickly to his face and he heard Spock begin to whisper the familiar ritual words of the meld, “My mind to your mind, my…. thoughts…..”  The Vulcan was breathing heavily and seemed unable to say any more.  Suddenly Jim felt as though he had just stepped out of a shuttle at 20,000 metres.  His nerves all seemed to leave his body and his mind stopped thinking for a heartbeat, then something came rushing back to replace them; something dark and powerful and combined.  He gasped in shock and felt the Vulcan’s hands stroking him frantically, hot alien lips kissing him and reassuring him.  Spock’s eyed were wide with wonder, and his hand was still on Jim’s face, but now there was reverence in the touch, although Jim did not even know how he knew that.

Jim tried to speak, but found his speech centres did not respond.  Instead he heard his own voice in his mind, Spock?  But he was Spock too, and heard his name called.  Jim breathed in and felt strong Vulcan lungs expand.  He forgot all about the physical for a moment and concentrated on what was happening in his head.  He felt Spock’s awe as he heard the Vulcan’s voice, Your mind… your consciousness is a singularity.  Jim had said Of course before he noticed that somewhere in the background there was a faint whisper of calculation occurring, figures from the science experiment in the lab that morning.  Elsewhere in the vast labyrinth of their joint minds, other aspects of Spock’s mind kept track of the noises coming in from the corridor, Jim’s facial expressions, the pressure that Spock was exerting on Jim’s face - must not cause harm – and the heat between their bodies.  Pleasure coursed through yet another part of Spock’s mind.

What if it was all one?  Asked Jim, and without even knowing how he did it, drew Spock’s consciousness in with his, to that single point of being that humans take for granted.  Spock did not resist, but his eyes were wide with wonder, and his voice in the meld asked, So when you love, it is all of you that loves?  When you feel, it is all of you that feels?

Yes, responded Jim.  So, how far down does this mind of yours go?  Do you have a subconscious?  Spock’s reply was instant, No.  But there are aspects of our minds that we bury deep, that are locked away and never seen.

Oh, that’s dangerous.  Jim toyed with the idea of delving into Spock’s mind to find those places but the negative reaction in Spock’s mind dissuaded him.  Instead he began to kiss Spock again, running eager lips down the Vulcan’s throat and feeling Spock’s body press upwards against his in response.  He felt a vague frisson of apprehension from Spock, and smiled, buried not so deep?

Spock arched slightly harder against him and whispered out loud, “Jim, please…”  His voice sounded rough around the edges, and there was a slightly ragged expression in his eyes.  Jim ran his lips across Spock’s chest and found a small green nipple.  He began to play with it in his lips, licking and sucking, then biting gently, and the Vulcan’s breath hissed out through his teeth.  All the while Jim could feel the meld push deeper and deeper into his mind, like the tide pushing onto the shore: with all the power of the ocean behind it, but moving in almost unnoticed increments.

“Spock,” he breathed, trailing kisses down the Vulcan’s body.  Spock was shuddering and his skin fluttered under Jim’s touch, his body undulating with anticipation beneath the captain.  Jim turned his attention to the hard green erection that looked almost painful now.  He turned his eyes up to Spock as he toyed teasing fingers across the end of it.  He watched as a single drop of pre-cum beaded itself onto the tip, and felt Spock writhe beneath him, breathing harshly, “Jim…”

Jim watched Spock’s eyes as he leaned down to collect the drop of pre-cum, licking it teasingly off the tip of Spock’s erection.  The Vulcan’s mind fell into a thousand fragments within Jim’s, and suddenly the tide rushed in and Jim was a hundred feet under the ocean of Spock’s thoughts.

Spock’s body bucked, and the Vulcan felt control slipping away from him as the pleasure from Jim’s lips ripped down all his defenses.  He cried out in protest as he realized he was losing control, but suddenly the human’s mind was there, helping him, controlling with him even as Spock’s control threatened to fall apart completely.  Human words echoed in the meld, I got you.

Spock was breathing raggedly now, fear coursing through his mind, I do not wish to hurt you.  I thought I could keep control.

You won’t.  And the human’s mind was sparkling with amusement as Spock tried to disambiguate the statement.  Jim went on, just relax.

I am trying, Captain, but…

I know.

Spock tried to say more, but suddenly the human slid his mouth deep over Spock’s erection, and it was all the Vulcan could do to collect his thoughts, let alone converse.  He tried to say something in the meld, but all he could do was experience the sensations flooding his body.  All he could do was feel.

Jim he chanted, Jim, as Kirk took him apart at the seams.  Spock found his body pumping into the pleasure dome of Jim’s mouth, sporadically at first, then developing a steady rhythm, the thrust and then the suction of withdrawal each time more pleasurable than the last.  The Vulcan heard someone whimper and realized with chagrin that it was him. The human must have heard it too, for he paused and sought Spock’s mind, you alright?

Yes.  Need more.

Jim’s mind shifted with Spock’s, seeking more information and the Vulcan realized with a shock that the human’s mind was now deep within his, down to the levels of the subconscious in the human and deepening.  Spock tried to trace the meld to its root to find out how far into his own mind Jim was, but elicited a low moan from Jim and hesitated.  Jim’s voice came in the meld, I don’t know what you just did but please, do it again.

I was searching the meld and may have inadvertently-

Don’t explain, just do it.

Spock complied, and found a new pleasure in the meld, in the slide of consciousness into consciousness, of mind into mind, even as he felt the human begin to explore his body with slick fingers, is this alrightYou know it is, responded Spock, every nerve now on fire.  There was a soft human chuckle in the meld and then Spock felt something blunt and slick replace the fingers and press at his entrance.  With a struggle, he extricated himself from the depth of the meld enough to open his eyes and see Jim’s patient face watching him, “There you are.”  Jim kissed him. He hesitated, then asked Spock out loud, “Have you done this before, I asked.”

Spock shook his head numbly, and wondered what Jim meant… done what?  Fallen apart at the seams?

But then he was falling apart at the seams when Jim very gently pressed into his body, then waited.  Spock felt his body stretched painfully, but then the pressure eased and he felt himself accommodate Jim’s girth.  He nodded, and the pressure returned. Spock controlled his breathing and nodded again, and Jim inched slowly inside him, this time not stopping, but pushing himself millimeter by millimeter into Spock’s body until he was seated home.  Spock moved slightly and felt himself impaled and filled.  There was a question in the meld, a seeking of affirmation that he was alright again, and he nodded.

Then Jim began to move and Spock’s world exploded in sensation.  His body arched and he clung to the Captain as pain and unbelievable pleasure fried his nerves, and sent his mind diving into that dark, deep place that he had wanted to avoid.  Spock tried for control, but Jim slipped deeper into his katra with every thrust, and the thrusts were becoming more powerful and regular now.  Spock opened his eyes and looked at the human.  Jim was looking almost afraid, his eyes intent on Spock’s face…

Then the meld sucked them down into a place that neither had been.  Jim began to thrust hard, brutally into Spock, and the Vulcan’s mind was reaching for him, using the pleasure arcing through Jim’s mind to capture his thoughts and drag him down into that cave of possession that Spock had until now tried to avoid.  Friend.  Friend, repeated the human.  Brother.  Brother.  Lover.  Lover.

T’hyla.

T’hyla.

Jim’s seed exploded into Spock, and their bodies slammed together in climax as their minds meshed completely at last.  The universe disappeared around them.

 

Spock was swimming, up through layers of a Terran ocean, towards the surface.  He opened his eyes.  The sweaty body of his captain was draped over him like a shroud.  As he watched, Jim pushed weakly and managed to roll to the side, but did not release Spock from his arms.  Spock surveyed the captain.  There was a tremor in Jim’s hands, and there were ghosts in his eyes.  Spock carefully stroked Jim’s face, avoiding the meld-points.

Jim managed to look at him, and Spock whispered, “Did you think that it would not be intense, between us?”

He could not stop the thought, Did I break you?  The human heard it, and whispered out loud, “If you did, you just remade me.”

Spock stared at Jim.  Eventually the human whispered, “Spock, this is more than just ‘Merry Christmas.’  This is…”  The captain fell silent, looking lost.

Spock looked at him thoughtfully, and searched for the right thing to say, “I will be here.  Not just for this Christmas.”

Jim looked up at him gratefully, but looked him in the eyes and asked, “What if I ask for all of them?”

The Captain felt a wave of emotion from Spock through the meld, and his eyes swept shut for a second with the intensity of it, but he forced them open again.  He was glad he did, for that meant he did not miss the warm glow in the dark eyes as Spock affirmed, “Then you shall have all of them,” as he leaned down to capture Jim’s lips again.

 

 

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