A Month Named Eternity
“Thirty days, when compared to the length of a middle aged man's life, is not a long time. You act as if you have not seen me for years.”
They were Jim's own lips which spoke, though he could imagine Spock's voice uttering those exact words as he leaned over the vanity, inching his face close to the mirror to ensure he shaved evenly. Satisfied, he ran a hand through his graying dark brown hair and stepped back, checking himself out just once more. Yes, everything was in place. He was showered, groomed, and dressed in black trousers and a slate colored button down dress shirt. A black tie with very faint diagonal lines completed his appearance.
As Jim gazed at his reflection, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards and then spread into a soft smile. His face then bloomed into a full expression of joy, teeth visible and eyes just a little squinted as he thought of his theoretical reply to his theoretical Spock comment.
His hands came up and fussed with the tie a little as he looked at himself in the mirror replying, “Unless that middle aged man happens to be married to you. Then it's eternity.”
There was a brief pause as his digits released the tie and swept down his shirt, smoothing it out. “Illogical, Jim,” he said to his reflection in a deepened voice that attempted to mimic Spock's.
A small laugh fell from Jim's lips then as he realized how silly he must look speaking to himself in the mirror. Had Spock seen it, he would have surely quirked an eyebrow and requested an explanation. However, just as Jim was incapable of wiping the smile from this face, he was unable to quiet the excitement bottled up inside of him waiting to explode with the force of a supernova.
Spock! Spock would be home soon! The very thought of it made his pulse quicken and patience dwindle even further. Jim reached up to adjust his collar just once more and then, with the energy of the man he was thirty years ago, walked out of the bathroom with a bounce in his step.
The hazel eyes scanned over their bedroom. Everything was tidy and in place, the bed made and pillows fluffed up. The beige wall against which the bed was pushed up was divided in the middle by panes of glass running the full length of the room and providing a breathtaking panoramic view. Jim stepped up to the freshly shined glass and gazed out to where the evening winter sky met the cold water of the bay. The night was clear and chilly which meant there would be a beautiful backdrop of stars when sleep would find him later.
...Not just him. Them. Tonight marked the end of his thirty days of sleeping alone.
The smile remained across Jim's handsome features as that thought entered his mind again and he turned from the window. His eyes caught the picture of Spock and him that had a permanent place on his nightstand. Jim gazed down lovingly at it for a few moments, extending a fingertip and brushing the pad over Spock's face in the photograph before he turned towards the doorway and commanded, “Lights off.” The bedroom lights dimmed slowly to darkness.
Taking one final look over the rest of the apartment, he felt pleased that all was in the shape he wanted it to be in. The fireplace was lit, two warm blankets folded neatly and resting on Spock's chair. A stack of science magazines that had been delivered over the last four weeks waited upon the coffee table. Two dozen fully open red roses rested in a fancy glass vase upon the small dining table. The hardwood floors were neatly swept, the rugs vacuumed. Perfect!
Jim walked through the space of the condo, the scent of dinner wafting from the kitchen. It wouldn't be long until the air smelled of Spock again, that familiar warm spice essence he adored so flooding his senses, coupled with that of comforting and exotic incense. Jim found himself immediately longing for it before it was even gone; when he returned to their living space after seeing Spock off, he mentally noted that soon the only scent of his husband of many years would be upon his pillow or on his clothing neatly filed away in the closet. It was a depressing thought.
Heading past the dining table set with two fine china plates, bowls, glasses, and utensils, Jim found himself in the open kitchen. A pot rested upon the stove on low flame. Taking the lid in his hand, he peered at the soup simmering gently within it. It was a healthy, light-colored Vulcan-esque concoction full of fresh vegetables that he had made his own by adding chili pepper powder for a bit of kick. Satisfied, he returned the lid. After a month of eating a combination of starship and alien sustenance, Jim could think of nothing more pleasing to return to other than a home cooked meal, packed with nutrients that would help a tired, travel-worn body recover.
A deep, contented breath fell from his mouth then. Jim had spent so much time making everything perfect for Spock's arrival that he felt a slight bout of tiredness within himself amid all the excitement. Though he wouldn't exactly call himself a messy person and Spock had never complained before about the up keeping of their home, making a fuss was something Jim just wanted to do from cleaning to cooking to even dressing up in fancy attire. Naturally, there was a purpose for all of his efforts.
Jim had gone far too many years prior to their meeting feeling unappreciated by the people he dated. In fact, he never believed he would ever find himself married. Spock knew that feeling much too well also, though he would never openly admit to falling victim to loneliness. Jim could read him like a book, however, and genuinely understood even what he didn't or wouldn't say. In any case, all of this effort was yet another way of Jim constantly reinforcing how much he truly treasured Spock and if it constituted spoiling him, then he was gladly doing it. Spock deserved nothing less.
Pouring himself a glass of dry red wine, Jim returned to the living room and dropped into his chair with a huff. All that was left to do was wait. He withdrew his comm and thumbed through his messages again, his honeyed eyes falling on the latest one he received from Spock.
I have safely arrived and am currently en route to the Vulcan Embassy. I will depart as soon as possible once the debriefing session concludes.
Normally, Jim would eagerly opt to accompany Spock on ambassadorial missions as the one he was just returning from, but sudden short notice and academy duties had interfered on this particular occasion. The Vulcan Embassy had issued an urgent request for Spock to attend a peace conference far into the upper Alpha quadrant; the Vulcan representative who was originally intended to join fell ill and there were just two days to prepare for the journey.
To complicate matters further, Jim had already agreed to provide several lectures at the academy which had filled up to maximum capacity within minutes of being posted. He found himself incapable of canceling without letting down thousands of cadets who seemed keen on idolizing a legacy he denied having. So many looked to him for inspiration and, whether he felt he deserved the attention or not, he would not disappoint them.
And so, thirty days of separation had ensued.
Jim swirled the sanguine liquid in his glass as he gazed into the fire before him. A month wasn't the end of the world, but because of their past experiences, he found himself struggling with separation. Spock and he had lost too much time together already because of previous mistakes. Jim closed his eyes as he thought of Spock on the hot sands of Vulcan, dressed in a stark white robe and staring at him with an unsure gaze. His eyelashes parted then, and Jim promised himself then that no matter what the consequences, he would always accompany Spock on any future missions.
Jim's thoughts shifted again as he stared into the flames. He wanted nothing more than to be there when Spock materialized at the space port's transporter station. Unfortunately, the Vulcan Embassy had been rather adamant on the closing of the trip and required the debriefing meeting to be held as soon as the United Federation of Planets representatives returned to Earth. They had also insisted on providing transportation home afterward to each attendee as a courtesy. Such was life when Vulcan traditions and customs were involved...
After taking a small sip of his wine, Jim set the glass on the coffee table and looked at the chronometer for what felt like the millionth time that day. Finally, he reached for one of the science magazines resting on the table to try to distract himself. It was filled with astrophysics equations and scientific banter, and while it was written in Standard, it may as well have been Klingon. Jim scanned the pages one by one, awed as he wondered how Spock could actually understand and process all of this. Pride welled up within him at the thought of just how intelligent the one he cherished so deeply was.
And it was at that moment, when Jim was finally lost in this contemplation, that the heavenly sound of someone keying in a code on the number pad outside the door graced his ears. The magazine dropped to the table and he jumped out of his chair, the heart within his chest exponentially beating faster and faster.
Just as Jim got to his feet, the front door swished open and there he was!
“Spock!!” Jim exclaimed, his eyes wide and mouth open into what could have been the largest smile ever smiled.
Spock stood in the doorway for a moment, his proud Vulcan head raised and a hand on his luggage in tow. His body was adorned by immaculate formal robes of chocolate brown and pearl white, just as his father had years ago. The door swished shut behind him, the lock automatically engaged.
“Spock!” exclaimed the human again as he bolted through the living room. Spock let go of his suitcase just in time to catch his mate who positively threw himself into him, familiar warm arms encircling his torso tightly. As they crashed together, Spock actually stumbled backwards into the door. He didn't appear to mind.
“Jim,” Spock breathed, his nose falling into his hair, arms snaking around to hold him tightly in return. With his dark eyes closed, he inhaled a deep breath, letting the scent of his precious human fill him. His arms tightened even further.
“Spock, Spock, Spock!” Jim repeated over and over, his face buried into the Vulcan's neck as he clung to him as tightly as he could. He pulled back slightly then and lifted his face to look at this man he'd spent an entire month yearning for. “I missed you so much!”
“It does me well to see you, Jim,” Spock replied calmly, but the corners of his lips twitched upwards into what could definitely classify as a grin as far as Vulcans were concerned. It was an expression Spock reserved only for his Jim; no other had seen it, nor would anyone else ever.
Jim's shoulders raised a bit with a deep inhale, his chest swelling while he simply gazed at Spock as if he almost didn't believe he were actually there. Suddenly, he unraveled his arms from around the Vulcan, took his cheeks within his palms, brought his face down gently, and kissed him. His eyes were closed as their lips met for several seconds. Jim brushed his forehead into Spock's when they parted and then raised his chin, allowing his mouth to fall upon the pale Vulcan skin he had just nuzzled against. The human kissed him there, allowing his lips to linger momentarily before he finally released him.
While Spock appeared very content – as far as Vulcan appearances went – to be back, he was also looking quite tired. He had informed Jim during their regular communications that he was unable to meditate to maximum efficiency on the trip back to Earth, one that took nearly two weeks. He had been so busy working on the report of his journey and then finishing documentation reaching hundreds of pages which covered a current scientific theory he was involved in hypothesizing. There had been no time for adequate mental or physical rest, and while Spock could continue to function without it for much longer than any human, it wouldn't stop Jim from insisting the Vulcan should put himself first.
“Come on, let's get you settled,” Jim offered as he regrettably unraveled himself from Spock's arms and picked up the two pieces of luggage resting beside him. He began walking towards the bedroom with the baggage, Spock following him closely.
“You are looking well, Jim,” Spock commented. “And quite dressed up, if I might add.”
Looking over his shoulder, Jim grinned and then stopped. He turned around and Spock just took in this beautiful creature before him who only became more and more appealing as he aged. “Well, there was something incredibly important going on tonight.”
“Oh?” came the reply, a pointed eyebrow raising in interest.
“Yeah. After spending an entire month missing you, you finally came back and made me the happiest man in the universe again! I thought such an occasion deserved a little dressing up, wouldn't you agree?”
Jim's eyes were so soft as he spoke, his tone so genuinely delighted. He positively radiated joy. And now, Spock would proceed to disagree with his silly remark because it only had been thirty days, and Jim would laugh about it.
Spock said nothing, though; he just stared at this human standing in front of him, his thin lips opened just slightly. It was immediately apparent to him upon his entrance that the condo had been cleaned well. Spock could just picture Jim spending all day getting the space in proper order for his arrival. He could see Jim standing before the closet and deciding to wear dress clothes, leaning over the stove and cooking the meal that made the air smell delicious instead of simply using the replicator. The lit fireplace, the roses, the magazines neatly stacked on the table... All of it was done for no other purpose than welcoming him back. What had he done to deserve Jim Kirk and his fathomless affection?
Just as Jim was about to prod him again for that reaction he fully expected, Spock reached out to his arm and pulled him back to his chest, a hand falling into that dark brown hair possessively. Jim's eyes remained open as he found himself tightly embraced once again but then closed them, smiling and burying his face into Spock's neck. He could hear the deep voice reverberating within Spock as he uttered a sincere thank you.
Pulling away, Jim looked up at him again and replied, “There's no need to thank me. I wanted to.”
The two of them stood there in the middle of the living room, their gazes entwined and so much being silently said with their eyes alone. Finally, Jim pulled away still wearing the soft smile that stretched across his face moments ago and pulled on Spock's forearm, saying, “C'mon.”
The lights automatically elevated to fifty percent when they both entered the bedroom. Jim dropped Spock's bags in a place where they would be out of the way and inquired, “Did you eat?”
“The Vulcan Embassy had intended to host a dinner,” Spock replied. “However, I managed to convince the council to pardon my absence by informing them that an important matter required my immediate attention.”
A soft laugh fell from Jim's lips. “On how many occasions did you say Vulcans never lie?”
“I did not,” Spock insisted.
“So what's your 'important matter' then?”
“Jim,” came the serious reply as Spock barely cocked his head to one side. “That is, without the necessity of explanation, reuniting with you.”
The human lowered his eyes, seeming to contemplate something for a moment before raising them back to Spock's face. With the inner corners of his brows slightly elevated, Jim's expression was gentle and priceless and beautiful... a quiet combination of adoration, gratitude, and elation.
“Well, Mister Spock,” he began softly. “I believe you'll be pleased to know that dinner awaits you soon.”
Jim took Spock's arm and led him into the bathroom. “It'll be done by the time you're finished showering, so why don't you indulge for a bit?”
Spock was greeted with the mat already set up outside the shower and a towel hanging nearby.
“I believe I will agree to do so, Jim.”
With a nod, Jim grinned and took his leave, the door sliding closed behind him. Spock's eyes fell upon a fresh black robe folded and waiting for him to change into after showering. He allowed his gaze to remain upon it as a feeling of all-encompassing reverence filled him up. Jim had gone through so much trouble just to make him feel loved and comfortable. It worked.
His deft fingers unclasped the bindings of his robe and he let the heavy garment fall from his body. Truly, he did not deserve all of this. Spock gazed at his reflection in the mirror as he imagined Jim berating him for thinking such a thought. He caught the corners of his lips barely twitch upwards again before stripping himself entirely naked and stepping into the embrace of hot water soothing his tired muscles.
It was a rare moment of luxury as Spock would typically opt for a sonic shower; his conservative Vulcan roots could be blamed for avoiding the waste of water. He allowed himself to appreciate the moment, relaxing into the heat beating down upon him. With his eyes closed, his thoughts were consumed once again by Jim.
Two long, slender digits raised to his lips and brushed them as though they were the human's own, kissing him. Spock's mouth parted just slightly, the tip of his tongue poking out and sliding down one of his fingers. He imagined Jim doing it to him. A shudder racked through his body at the sensation, which also seemed to shake him back into reality. He was in their home; Jim was 9.218 meters away from his present position. Imagination was no longer necessary for company. With that thought, Spock began quickly washing himself off, eager to return as soon as he could to the human waiting for him.
* * * * * * *
Jim was ladling the soup he made into a bowl as Spock emerged from the bedroom. He had donned the black robe Jim had set out for him and underneath it, a thermal layer for extra comfort. As Spock approached, Jim looked over his shoulder and asked, “Feeling a little more relaxed?”
“Indeed. And quite refreshed,” came the reply. Spock stopped before the small dining table and gazed down at it. Jim had very recently placed two heaping plates of vegetables on it; it was his version of a recipe Amanda once shared with him. Next to his plate was a hot cup of tea. The Vulcan then looked at the vase full of roses adorning the center. He reached forward to delicately run his fingers across the fully bloomed red petals of one.
“They're for you, of course,” Jim said with a smile as he set down the steaming bowls of soup he carried from the kitchen. He slid one near Spock's plate and then slipped into his chair.
Following the human's lead, Spock settled into his own seat. He shifted it closer to the table and relaxed into the familiar feeling of the furniture they picked out together many years ago... It was so much more comfortable than anything a starship could offer. Taking in everything before him again – the flowers, the meal, Jim's attire – he then spoke in his ever present calm tone, “Jim, thank you. I would inform you that this is all unnecessary but I know you will neglect to admit it.”
Jim raised his eyebrows and smirked. Though Spock was being his typical humble self, the human could detect those faint signs ever so subtly indicating that his efforts were truly appreciated.
“Well, Spock, let's not illogically waste time debating the matter then, considering you know I'll never agree with you. By the way, you deserve all of it.” He added a strong nod to enforce his point. Jim lifted his wine glass and gently clinked it against Spock's teacup still sitting on the table. “So, cheers!”
The taste of slightly bitter pinot noir flooded his pallet as he returned his glass. Jim then took a heaping forkful of the vegetables he cooked and said, “Let me know what you think.” before shoveling it into his mouth.
Spock neatly cut up the vegetables on his plate and politely put the fork to his lips. He chewed and Jim inwardly felt a great deal of satisfaction at the pleasant look on the other man's face.
After he swallowed, he delivered his verdict. “I am certain my mother would say she is proud.”
Spock's black eyes softened as he observed Jim positively beaming, basking in that compliment. They both continued to eat, rehashing the mission that had consumed the last month. Spock reiterated his opinion of the conference that he had shared in one of their many long distance conversations and was summing up his closure earlier at the Vulcan Embassy as Jim finished the last bits on his plate.
“So they really didn't prod you for further details as to why you skipped dinner with them tonight?” Jim questioned before taking another sip of his wine. “I thought for sure you'd need to file a report for that too.”
Spock's eyebrows narrowed in consternation. “Jim,” he began. “Why would I need to file a report for—”
The human huffed a laugh, waved his hand in the air, and cut him off, “Nevermind, nevermind! It's just that the embassy seems to really, really love your writing. Everything you write for them is the length of a novel.”
His plate cleaned, Spock methodically placed his silverware across the dish – a polite Vulcan gesture. Jim itched at his jaw a moment, the smile on his face indicating ideas were firing across his acute mind.
“You know, Spock,” he began, as his hand fell and reached forward, clasping the stem of his wine glass with his fingertips. Jim was slouched comfortably, the other arm over the back of his chair. “I wonder if they even read everything you write.”
“I assure you that they do. It would be illogical to require a detailed report if there is no intent to read it.”
“So you would think! It happens a lot more frequently than you'd imagine. Earth schools are particularly guilty of it and the Academy is no exception.” Jim's shoulders rose as he took a breath before he continued, his eyes upon his hand on the table. He exhaled and then elevated his gaze to Spock's. “...You know, just to make sure, you could try adding something interesting to the middle of the report.”
“Something interesting?” Spock questioned, a brow raised.
“Yeah,” Jim drawled and pursed his lips, nodding. He then leaned forward, elbows on the table with his hands clasped together loosely. “I'll help you. How about this? I'll write up a couple page story of us having sex, send it to you, and you put it somewhere in the report.”
Spock's eyes opened widely, as his mouth clamped shut and shoulders stiffened.
“Say you put it in around the, oh... seventieth page. That should do,” the human concluded with a nod.
“Jim.” Spock's expression and tone were incredibly serious. “That is unethical! Starfleet Regulation 1419A states that such inappropriate material—”
A laugh fell from Jim's lips then as he closed his eyes, allowing his forehead to fall in his hand. “It was a joke, Spock...” He raised his head again, peering at the black clad man adjacent to him. “God, it's so good for you to be home again. You know what? I missed this... missed you so much.”
Spock's posture eased at that moment. He should have known better; after all, this was his illogical Jim and his illogical sense of Terran humor... “I have also missed your presence, Jim.”
“Well, I'll tell you what,” the human started, dropping his palms gently to the table and sliding them off the ledge into his lap. “Why don't you go relax some more while I clean up, and I'll join you over there as soon as I can.” He nodded his head in the direction of the fireplace.
“I will assist you,” Spock protested.
“Go on,” Jim urged. “Go get some rest. You have plenty of reading to catch up on over there if you haven't noticed. This'll only take me a few minutes.”
They both stood. Spock reached for his plate but Jim grabbed his wrist. The two exchanged eye contact for several moments before Jim said, “Nice try. I'll meet you over there soon.” He winked at him and began stacking the used plates and bowls.
“As you wish,” Spock conceded and, as he was encouraged to do, allowed Jim to tend to cleaning up. He glided quietly through the condo, his flowing black robe swept into the air as he walked over to the fireplace. The two blankets waiting upon his chair were his favorite and he stole a glance at Jim placing the dishes into the sink. A small smile barely formed across Spock's lips before he turned back to the warm fire and let himself melt into the recesses of his chair. He placed the covers over him and nearly sighed at the warmth surrounding his body.
Picking up the magazine waiting on the top of the pile, Spock opened it and dove in. He'd gotten through 24.39% of its contents before Jim approached with another hot cup of tea which he placed within Spock's reach.
“See? Done in no time at all,” declared the human as he sunk into his own chair.
The fire crackled as both men gazed at each other for a few moments before Jim questioned, “You don't mind if I turn on the telebeam, do you?”
“I do not,” Spock replied and then returned his attention to the book in his slender hands.
With a small wave of his hand, several miniscule lights affixed to the ceiling and walls illuminated and a three dimensional show began playing in mid air just above the fireplace. And just like that, it became another typical evening. How long ago had they begun sitting together in front of these calm flames, just relaxing and enjoying their close proximity to each other? They didn't even need to be touching to feel content. It started so many years back that Jim couldn't even recall the exact time.
Jim swished his hand lazily through the air, essentially flipping through channels, until a green and blue nebula appeared. Intrigued, he listened to a physicist speak about bizarre properties of the deeply colored clouds and dropped his hand. Jim had intended to indulge in a classic 2200's movie, but this fit his fancy better. After all, what could be more suitable for his insatiable curiosity and imagination?
As Jim settled more into his chair, he loosened his tie a bit and folded entwined fingers across his stomach which had quite filled out over the years. He quickly gazed over at Spock who was immersed in his perusal and softly smiled before averting his attention back to the show.
The physicist – an Andorian woman by the name of Doctor Ezall th'Lera – took her viewers on a theoretical tour of the most curious corners of space that were still shrouded in mystery. Jim hadn't recognized many of the locations she spoke of, never mind explored them. Pity... As the images of each place passed before him, he felt the ever present thirst for exploration surface within him.
Such fond memories... The Enterprise – His Enterprise, the greatest ship with the greatest crew in all of Starfleet. The vast distances they traveled, the discoveries they made, the bonds they formed with each other... Jim looked over at Spock at the thought; the Vulcan instinctively raised his head for a moment before he extended two fingers in Jim's direction and returned to his reading. Perhaps he detected the longing within the human. Jim reciprocated the action, the pads of his digits gently pressing into Spock's.
If only Jim could command another starship... Just one more mission with Spock standing to his right and Bones to his left. Before him, Sulu and Chekov. To his sides, Scotty and Uhura. They were all so much older now and so many things had changed. But as Jim's creased eyes took in the sight of a proton star th'Lera began speaking about, he was sure of one thing: One day, he would stand upon that bridge again.
His thoughts dissipated as he fell deeply into the rest of the program. It concluded with soft music and a credits roll nearly an hour later. Jim exhaled a yawn, stretching his arms out while turning his attention to Spock. The human's eyebrows twitched slightly upwards as his mouth shut... Spock was slouched so that his head was supported by his shoulder and the plushy back of his chair. Across his lap, was the magazine he was reading; it was open and loosely within his hands. He was sleeping. Jim hadn't seen him fall asleep like this in a very long time; the poor thing really was exhausted from this journey.
Jim gestured and the telebeam's image dissipated into the air. He shifted to the side a little, eyes glued to Spock as he simply took in the placid expression on his face. Jim could just barely hear the exhale of his bondmate's soft breaths. To have Spock back – to have him with him at that very moment – meant more than what he could even attempt and surely fail to articulate.
Jim quietly stood. Without a sound, he gently pried the magazine from the Vulcan's hands and peeled the covers off his body. His right arm slipped behind Spock's torso, his left beneath his knees. He gently lifted him, cradling the thin man to his chest.
Spock stirred, finding himself being picked up. A short breath was inhaled as his eyes opened and he looked around confusedly.
“J..Jim? Oh.. You will injure yourself. You do not have to...”
“Shhh...” came the human's reply, his lips bumping into the shiny black hair. With his precious bounty in his arms, he walked across the carpet and entered their bedroom. The lights once again dimly elevated as he headed towards their bed. Jim gracefully set Spock on the edge of the mattress in a sitting position. As he was about to take hold of his shoulders and lay him down, Spock reached up and locked his digits behind the other man's neck.
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Jim stared down into those dark eyes, full of many thoughts and desires that he himself knew. A soft smile appeared as he spoke, just above a whisper, “I thought you're tired.”
“Incorrect,” Spock replied, his eyebrow very slowly elevating. “I am Vulcan.”
Jim took a deep breath with his nose and held it as the double meaning of those words filled his mind and a soft grin appeared across his features. When he exhaled, he bumped his lips into Spock's in a quick kiss and immediately went back for another. Spock's eyes closed as his right hand traveled up into Jim's hair, long slender digits slipping through the soft curls and applying slight pressure to the back of his head, coaxing him downwards.
It was an invitation Jim readily accepted. One knee was raised and pushed into the bed as Spock's torso began falling back toward the covers. Jim followed as he hit them with a soft thud. However, human hands suddenly planted on either side of lean Vulcan shoulders, stopping Jim from landing entirely on top of this precious being beneath him; instead, he opted to hover dangerously close, straddling his hips with the weight of his body barely felt and lips just ghosting above Spock's.
Rims of short eyelashes parted slowly, revealing black orbs – the portals to Spock's very essence. Contained within them were vast amounts of expression and intensity, reflections of the unfathomable depth of his love for Jim. Jim stared into those eyes with unrestricted awe and clear understanding that he was the only one privileged enough to have the honor of seeing Spock completely uncensored. There were no barricades, no shields, no emotionless Vulcan influences between their souls. They gazed at each other longingly as the passing of time seemed to slow and the universe itself shrunk infinitesimally to just the two of them.
Jim was conscious only of the breaths steadily filling and escaping his lungs, Spock's hands upon his neck and in his hair, and their painfully trapped, augmenting erections. The only sight before him, the only thing on his mind was this socially awkward, logical Vulcan who he spent over half of his life in love with and, for that moment, absolutely nothing else and no one else mattered. Immeasurable adoration swallowed him whole and he took Spock's lips into a deep kiss, pushing his head of black hair into the covers.
Spock's thin lips parted, his mouth eagerly accepting Jim's tongue. His own appendage met the human's, making contact and sliding back and forth against it with fervor. It was a gift to have the ability to taste his bondmate again, one that Spock made sure he showed gratitude for by deepening the kiss as much as he could. A small moan emanated from within Jim's throat as he tilted his head to the side and came down to his elbows, his hands finding themselves holding Spock's head.
Spock's digits unwound from Jim's hair and both of his hands slipped down his body, encircling his chest tightly. Out of breath, their kiss broke and Jim rested his forehead against Spock's as they both gasped for air with their eyes closed. Human fingers trailed through silken hair to a high, defined cheekbone; deliberately, Jim brushed by the sensitive psi points, causing Spock's body to shiver and his erection to twitch. That was all it took. With that, he opened his eyes and flung Jim to the side, forcing him on his back as he rolled on top of him.
“Ngh!” grunted the human, landing with desire in his eyes, trousers becoming tighter and tighter with every passing second. Spock sat up on him, grinding his ass into Jim's imprisoned bulge as deft digits reached forward and began undoing the tie and shirt buttons which were far too constricting. He made quick work of undressing the human, feeling a bit of un-Vulcan pride when he witnessed Jim's rock hard cock springing free into the air after removing his boxers. Seconds later, his bondmate found himself completely naked upon their bed.
Watching the events unfold before him, Jim leaned back on his elbows with his mouth slightly open. Spock pushed himself off, standing up at the side of the bed and unclasping his black robe. It slipped off his shoulders, landing in a lazy pile on the floor. What was left was Spock's thin frame, exposed perfectly by the tight thermal undershirt and bottoms clinging to it. The muted light of the room cast sexy, sultry shadows across his entire body, which Jim found himself mentally calling beautiful.
Spock rid himself of the shirt and then pulled the elastic waistband enveloping his hips down... Jim felt a fresh rush of pure lust course through him when it became apparent that Spock opted to not wear the briefs he put out for him.
There was forethought to this. He planned this. He wanted this. And Jim was going to make sure he got it!
Stark naked and sporting both an impressive erection and dusting of blush across his face from his arousal, Spock wasted no time in climbing back on top of Jim. His cold frame slid against the warm human's, both of them groaning softly as the pleasure of skin to skin contact finally returned.
Jim snaked his left arm around, his fingers blooming open and cupping the back of Spock's head while the digits of his right hand encircled both cocks trapped between their bodies. They gazed at each other as Jim began stroking them together and coercing his hips up gently.
Forcing Spock's head down, his lips fell upon one pointed ear and he growled out, “I'm gonna fuck you.” It was a phrase Jim often spoke when they were much younger; however, half a lifetime later, there they were: still crazy about each other, still rolling around on their bed like teenagers, still feeling the excitement of anticipation as if it were the first time all over again.
Spock shuddered as he felt Jim's teeth take in the tip of that same ear, lightly grinding against it. The action was so erotic – they were both already so hard – and they had barely done anything yet! Spock would change that.
The Vulcan pulled himself from the clenches of Jim's teeth, running his hand over the tan forehead and back into his hair. “I must have you,” he told the human plainly, stroking through his hair again and grinding his hips upwards. “I desire you in my mouth.”
Jim made some kind of noise in response which was halfway between a moan and a huff. Spock's version of dirty talk was so prudish and innocent that it was unbelievably hot. He had expected Spock to slide down his body and take his rod into the blissful recesses of his mouth. However, Jim was met with the pleasant surprise of Spock flipping himself, reversing his direction, and putting them in a most pleasing soussiant-neuf form.
Spock straddled Jim's shoulders, presenting himself perfectly. What a sight! His thighs were widely spread, providing an utterly flawless view of his weeping cock, balls, and hole. Fuck, he would never ever get over how insanely hot the sight of that impossibly tiny opening was! Jim shuddered as he thought about what he would do to it and stifled a pleasured moan, feeling his rod taken between the Vulcan's lips.
“Ffffuuuuckkk,” he groaned, pushing his head back into the mattress as he savored the feeling of Spock's hot mouth sliding up his shaft and immediately going back down. Jim fought the urge to buck his hips out of respect; sending his dick into the depths of Spock's throat would probably hurt. Instead, he did the next best thing: he tightly grabbed on to Spock's thighs and took the meaty Vulcan cock into his own mouth.
Feeling his husband tense with pleasure, Jim sucked hard and let his tongue fondle the sensitive skin just beneath the head. He felt Spock's hips raise and lower and they were suddenly deep into action, simultaneously fucking each other's mouths. Though, as amazing as it felt for Jim, he was unable to go to work with as much vigor as he wanted; trapped between Spock and the bed left him little maneuverability. It was time for Plan B.
Releasing Spock's dick from his mouth with a very loud, intentional sucking sound, Jim left the tumid column bobbing in the air as his tongue laved over his heavy ballsack. He started at the front, letting his appendage slide slowly back and up his taint. He spent a half-hearted second running it back down the smooth skin before slipping his tongue up over Spock's tiny hole.
Jim could hear Spock suck in a deep breath at the feeling and licked him again, dragging the tip over his hypersensitive ring of muscle. And then Jim got into it. His hands came up and pulled on Spock's tight asscheeks, forcing them apart and fitting his entire mouth over the opening. He prodded, lapped, and sucked, then pushed his tongue in deeply. Spock groaned out in response, releasing Jim's cock and freezing in place with his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. The muscles in his arms were tense and he drove his ass back into the mouth expertly pleasuring him.
He loved it! Proper, logical, stiff Spock fucking loved Jim rimming him. It was the single most erotic and important discovery Jim ever made in his life back during the five year mission, and something he made sure to exploit as often as possible.
This time was no exception. Jim grabbed Spock's hips and forced them backwards, coercing his torso upright. Panting quietly with his eyes closed, Spock found himself facesitting Jim, his spread thighs on either side of the human's shoulders. He grasped at his bent knees tightly, his cheeks and ears becoming a deeper blush as Jim tongue fucked him.
Spock opened his eyes dreamily, his pupils blown wide. He started moving his hips in slow motions back and forth, riding Jim's deliciously hot, wet appendage. As Spock began undulating against him, Jim could feel the arousal simply radiating off the man on top of him. He removed one hand from his hip and snaked it around his waist. There, he took the cock flushed a furious jade within it and began stroking.
Spock was caught between Jim's hand and mouth, working in perfect harmony to stimulate him. When his tongue thrust forward, his fist slipped down his shaft to the base and then the reverse. Consumed by waves of intense pleasure that not even the strongest Vulcan resolve could neglect, he had no choice but to close his eyes, narrow his brows, and allow a quiet moan to escape his lips.
Feeling his climax mounting and coming dangerously close to the point of no return, Spock rasped, “Jim!” He lunged forward, removing himself from the human's ministrations just before he blew his load all over both of their legs. With the momentum he had, Spock crashed on one elbow and reached forward to the side table drawer with his right hand in one fluid movement. From it, he procured a bottle and then sat back, his tight balls pressed against Jim's stomach.
“Spockkk, God,” Jim groaned, lifting his head to look at the Vulcan mounted on his midsection. His legs were spread far enough for him to see his olive-colored hole, glistening with saliva.
Jim heard the sound of the cap being flipped open and shuddered as he felt Spock take him in a lubricated fist, slicking his rod up. His arousal then reached an astronomical level when he next saw that same hand come around and rub at the small orifice right before him.
With perfectly unobstructed sight, Jim observed Spock slip his middle digit in and begin fingering himself. “Oh my God,” he whispered more to himself, watching a second slipping in. He could see the little ring of muscle opening to accept more and more as Spock thrust in and out and then scissor.
Seeing Spock finger himself that close to his face was so ridiculously arousing that Jim felt his head go into a haze. His breaths fell hot and heavy at the sight, his hips bucking unintentionally and cock straining angrily into the air. He needed in, and he needed in quickly!
Feeling the urgency from his bondmate and his own which was hastily mounting, Spock withdrew his fingers and turned himself around so he was facing Jim. He grabbed the tumid human rod and lined it up with his loosened hole, slowly pushing down against it.
Both men groaned out as the head of Jim's cock gently slipped into Spock's ass. With his channel needing to be gingerly coaxed open again after a month of disuse, Spock slowly sunk down little by little. To help alleviate the situation, Jim grabbed his hand. He parted it into the ta'al and took the pointer and middle digits into his mouth – the very same ones that were just used to finger that tight hole.
Spock's eyes closed as he drew in a deep breath, losing himself to the feeling of Jim sucking and licking his two fingers. A soft moan escaped his lips as Jim's tongue ran along the side of the middle one and he suddenly found himself fully impaled on his bondmate's cock with little discomfort.
Jim pulled Spock's digits out of his mouth, letting them rest upon his lips. “You're all right?” he whispered through deep breaths, the tightness around his pulsating dick nearly unbearable. He kept his hips frozen in place, however, with concern that he might cause pain.
Spock's chest visibly rose and deflated, his eyes filled with immense affection as they met Jim's. “I am adjusting adequately,” he breathed, running the tips of the fingers his husband held along those beautiful human lips. Jim planted a kiss on them.
They never broke eye contact as Spock rose halfway off his cock before carefully sinking back down on it. Jim let his hands slip to his narrow hips, patiently holding them as Spock repeated this slow motion several times, letting his body completely adjust once more to being filled.
The speed in which he moved up and down on Jim's dick steadily increased and in a matter of moments, his asscheeks were slapping against the human's thighs. Holding tightly to Spock's hips, Jim moaned loudly and began thrusting upwards into the recesses of his Vulcan's incredibly tight ass. His cock was enveloped so snugly, squeezed by the strong walls of Spock's compact channel. The pleasure was insanely intense after the month-long dry spell and he nearly felt he could pass out from it. Instead, Jim's eyes snapped shut and he thew his head back into the mattress, grinding his hips up into Spock with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing throughout the bedroom.
Spock's back curved in elegant, sexy motions as he tossed his pelvis forward and backward. His movements, like Jim's, were fast and deliberate, accented by pre-orgasmic moaning and gasping. With his hands grasping his own outer thighs, Spock rode Jim with the same fervor and passion like they were in their thirties again, as if none of the time passed that had made their bodies age.
However, the years caught up with them quickly and Spock found his legs beginning to ache. He fell forward, his hands placed on either side of Jim's head and began rocking back and forth with more weight on his arms in attempt to alleviate the discomfort his lower limbs were experiencing.
Jim, however, sensed the aching through both Spock's body language and their bond. He would have none of it. Wrapping his arms around Spock's chest, he tumbled to the side and rolled on top of him managing to not slip out.
“Let me,” fell the words from Jim's lips before he leaned down and kissed Spock reassuringly, a hand brushing over his forehead and up into his hair.
“Yes,” Spock rasped out with a nod. He hiked his knees up, locking his ankles around the human's waist as Jim began pounding into him. Spock had become more vocal in their many sexual encounters over the years – especially with owning their own condo – but had always remained erring on the more reserved side. Now, though, he emitted a sound that was much louder than usual and Jim knew damn well that he was hitting his prostate dead on.
“Jim! Ohhh!” exclaimed the Vulcan as he was lovingly ravaged, his forehead tucked into the soft skin between the human's neck and shoulder. “Ngh! Nnngh!!”
“Fuck!! So fucking good, Spock!!” came Jim's response, perfectly matching his bondmate's tone and volume with his pleasure mounting to the breaking point.
A hand desperately flew up to Jim's face, fingertips locking on his psi points immediately as if a magnetic pull drew them perfectly in place while their bodies smashed into each other.
“Kashkau...” Spock gasped. “...wuh..kuh eh... teretuhr!”
A series of glittering light flashed behind their eyes rivaling the stars themselves as their essences raced towards one another and collided. Logic met emotion, curiosity met charisma, caution met courage, Vulcan met Terran... Spock met Jim – everything that made them who they were entwined together into a sparkling double helix of two souls sharing one bond: a bond solidified by love deeper than any ocean, vaster than any galaxy.
Their thoughts, their feelings, their pleasures were combined into one shared by both. The flood of new sensations that augmented the ones that were singularly their own moments ago shoved both Jim and Spock over the edge. Drowning in the utter ecstasy of their melded minds, they both reached the apex together.
An emphatic, deep wail erupted from Jim's lips as his cock exploded, shooting multiple times inside of Spock's warm body. Simultaneously, Spock threw his head back roughly and dug his fingers into Jim's arms as thick streams of his own projectile seed coated his flat abdomen. Jim tossed his hips forward several more times through the massive orgasm they shared until his body shuddered from an overload of sensation. As his movements ceased, he remained sheathed and gently dropped his forehead upon Spock's.
They remained there, just like that with their eyes closed and lungs heaving for air, basking in the afterglow of their mutual climax. Spock's hands eventually slipped off of Jim's arms, instead firmly encircling his shoulders and neck possessively.
As their breathing relaxed into more normal patterns, Jim opened his eyes. He could feel Spock's strong feelings of adoration and gratitude for him projecting through their meld that still persisted. Jim returned them in full, his own regard radiating from the core of his very existence. He placed his lips on Spock's, taking his time to kiss him softly, letting his mouth conform to fit the supple curves of the Vulcan's.
Jim's face slowly rose, his lips leaving Spock's millimeter by millimeter until they barely touched. He lifted his chin, placing one more kiss on the pale, olive forehead. At that moment, Spock's legs finally slipped off of Jim's waist, allowing himself the comfort of stretching them out across the bed; it felt amazing after working his aged muscles so ardently.
It was some time before they unwound themselves, slowly slipping out of their meld and each other's arms. Jim carefully pulled out, took Spock's hand, and they walked to the bathroom to clean up. It was a fast sonic shower together to remove the fluids clinging to their bodies before quickly shutting down everything in the condo and returning to bed, still hand-in-hand.
The moon was high, full, and luminous, casting soft light through the unshaded windows of their room. Spock slipped into bed first. He reached over and pulled Jim's side of the covers down so he could easily climb in. However, when he pulled them back, he found more than just the pure white sheet; oddly enough, laying there neatly was a familiar blue shirt...
“Jim?” Spock inquired, lifting the garment to inspect it in the muted light and then gazed up at his bondmate.
A sheepish, almost abashed grin spread across Jim's face as he eyed the shirt and laid down facing Spock. “..Yeah?”
“Please explain why this is here.”
“Well,” Jim started as he pulled the blankets up to his shoulder. “I was rearranging some things in the closet when I was cleaning today and I must've forgotten to put it back.”
“Permit me to more accurately understand,” Spock began. “You were rearranging the closet early this morning – before making the bed. After completing the reorganization of the closet, you proceeded to neglect that the top half of my old uniform remained here, folded. Unaware of your error, you then proceeded to make the bed.”
“Yep!” Jim's smile widened a little but then slowly faded as he saw Spock's eyebrow elevate.
Jim's mouth opened slightly and the inner corners of his eyebrows shifted upwards.
“As you obviously do not recall, my old uniforms are meticulously filed in the drawer, not the closet.”
“Well, Mister Spock,” Jim replied, a soft laugh falling from his lips. “I should've known you'd shoot holes in my story. If you really must know...”
He reached forward and took the shirt from Spock's hand. Bringing it tightly to his chest, he wrapped an arm around it. “...This is how I slept the entire time you were gone.”
“Jim...” Spock began, his eyes soft as he thought about this perfect being before him longingly sleeping every night holding his shirt in his arms. He may have said something further, but Jim just pulled him close, his lips falling into his black hair. After the long stride of separation, they were finally back in each other's arms again, nestled within their bed, enveloped by a sea of warm covers... exactly how it was supposed to be.
As Jim thought back on the last thirty lonely days which passed far too slowly, he squeezed Spock tightly, closed his hazel eyes, and whispered, “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
While James Kirk was very outwardly affectionate, he typically wasn't a man who employed what Terran people called “pet names” in his spoken language. However, his use of one in the current situation made the meaning behind his words that much deeper.
Warmth welled up from the middle of Spock's chest as he once again realized just how much Jim treasured him. He slipped his arms around his bondmate's torso and nuzzled his forehead into his warm neck. Softly, in response, he spoke.
“Home is where ever you are, Jim.”
* * * * * * *
Upon the outdoor couch of the balcony they sat, darkness still shrouding the calm waters of the bay. Tucked around both was an oversized, warm blanket which shielded them from the cold of another early winter morning. On the small table nearby were two cups of steaming mint tea, freshly poured just minutes ago.
“Look, Spock!” Jim spoke up suddenly as a golden line began bleeding across the horizon.
With their fingers entwined, they watched the sky brighten little by little, the sun's rays stretching out and gently embracing Earth. It was just one of many more sunrises they would see, but they would appreciate each one as they did every moment they spent together.
Jim unraveled his digits from Spock's and instead took his arm, pulling on it. Spock faced him and Jim let his lips softly press against the Vulcan's. When they separated, he just smiled.
That smile, more radiant than any star in the universe, had become a necessary component to his well-being, just as his own presence was for Jim's. It was more than enough to convince Spock that he would do everything he could to never leave his side again.
It was a silent promise he would surely endeavor to keep.