- Text Size +
It was an admittedly slow alpha shift. Kirk rubbed absently at his eyes, aware of a growing headache. He had a pet theory that it was the lights that did it. His eyes drifted around the bridge, taking in everyone's silent business. After a few fidgets, he got up and walked over to each of the stations, stopping at Spock's last.



“Anything interesting, Mr. Spock?” Kirk queried.



“Negative, Captain. There are some minor fluctuations in the higher frequencies of “space noise” but it is not significant,” the Vulcan answered as he turned away from his science console.



“Better luck next time,” Kirk joked.



Spock simply flicked an eyebrow in response. Before a verbal rejoinder could be issued, Uhura turned in her seat.



“Captain, Mr. Spock! I'm suddenly picking up considerable interference on all subspace channels. I'm sending the information to your console, Mr. Spock,” she said with controlled alarm.



Kirk strode back to the center seat, but by the time he sat down, the excitement was over. Spock was gone.







“He's coming around!” Bones said excitedly.



Bright light was shining in Spock's eyes, and he could feel his nictating eyelid begin to close. A quick physical inventory told him he was unharmed but suffering the probable after effects of some kind of drug.



“Spock! Spock!” Bones started again, looking like he was considering hitting him.



“Doctor, I assure you I can hear you.” Spock sat upright, even though he wasn't particularly feeling up to it.



Jim's face came into focus, and he felt him touch his arm to assist him. He was illogically pleased by the fact.



“What happened?” the captain asked, voice colored by concern for both his friend and subordinate.



“I cannot say. I was conscious of an alien entity. It's mind was incomprehensible to me. There was a machine. Then I was returned here.”



“Very curious. You were only gone for a 5-10 minutes, then you reappeared near sickbay, in the hall.” Kirk replied.



“Now, Spock. Are you sure you are feeling alright, not noticing any differences?” Bones inquired. Kirk exchanged an unreadable look with him.



“None, doctor. I feel well.” Spock replied honestly. He did feel fine, aside from the initial disorientation.



“Well, then I don't know how to tell you this, Spock. Maybe you should look in the mirror.” Bones said with a scowl.



Spock lurched off the bed, and walked to the wall mirror near McCoy's office. His eyebrows flew up in surprise at what he saw.



A Vulcan female in an over-sized Starfleet uniform.



He rubbed his lip pensively, then looked at Jim and Bones.



“Interesting.”



“Interesting, he says! Goddammit, go get some rest.” Bones spewed and waved the Vulcan out of his sickbay. “Interesting! Pointy-eared hobgoblins don't have any goddamn sense!” he mumbled as he walked into his office and shut the door.



Kirk laughed at the display, then turned to Spock. “You're cleared to go. Walk you to your quarters? Bones already took some tissue samples while you were out to run labs on.”



Spock felt an uncommon warmth in his chest, and thought it was of some interest that some things didn't seem all that different with a new body.







“Alright, listen up!” Jim addressed today's alpha shift, which consisted of Chekov, Sulu, Uhura, Security Officer Maki, and Scotty who was doing some maintenance on the engineering console.



“Most of you were present yesterday when Mr. Spock disappeared. However, none of you were privy to his return. Mr. Spock was apparently abducted by an unknown entity...”



“Aliens?” interjected Chekov.



“Yes, Mr. Chekov, he was abducted by aliens,” Kirk irritatedly clarified, confused as to how the obnoxious ensign ever graduated from academy.



“When he was returned, he had little memory of the incident and,” this was the bit Kirk thought was difficult. “He was returned to us as a female Vulcan. He will continue to perform his duties and in all other ways is himself. I expect you treat him with due respect and allow him privacy concerning this... incident.” Kirk finished lamely, and the officers eyed him with slight incredulity.



“Any questions?”



Chekov opened his mouth and everyone stared at him until it snapped shut audibly.



“He's definitely well?” Uhura asked.



“Yes, or so it seems,” the captain answered, since he believed her question was asked in sincerity.



No one dared ask any other questions, though there were certainly some. After a brief silence everyone dispersed from the conference room for the bridge.



A few moments later the sound of the turbo lift was heard, and everyone stopped what they were doing and were furtively glancing at the door.



Swish and the door opened.



An extremely attractive Vulcan female stepped out wearing a typical women's uniform. Chekov's eyes started to widen until Sulu jabbed him hard with his elbow.



It wasn't hard to see why. Spock had maintained most of his height and was showing more leg than Chapel on shore leave. His hair was the same but somehow seemed less severe this morning. Not to mention his features, where once masculine, were quite becoming when rendered in the feminine. Lovely brown eyes with long eyelashes, graceful brows, and nice cheekbones. Surprisingly sultry lips. . Kirk could feel himself staring, for some reason completely astonished at how... good-looking Spock was.



“Good morning, Mr. Spock,” he forced out.



“Good morning, Captain,” Spock replied, for once not commenting on the illogic of such a greeting. His voice still seemed Spock-like in spite of the register change.



The Vulcan walked diffidently across the bridge and sat cautiously, smoothing his skirt down before sitting.



After everyone had discreetly fulfilled their need to gawk, the morning rolled on quite smoothly.



Between signing padds Jim contemplated his position on hot, female, Vulcan first officers. He wasn't completely lacking in self insight. He knew that he and Spock had had something between them prior to this. He wouldn't have been able to readily define it. It wasn't overtly romantic (though possibly sexual), but it was much more than friendship. And lately when playing chess or chatting after shift there would be a moment when he and Spock would just sort of lock eyes and stop what they were doing for a moment. Jim didn't know what that meant, but he sure as hell knew it never happened with Bones or Scotty. He often chalked it up to being a “Vulcan thing.” (Yeah, right.)



Yes, the shift was going quite well considering. Until...



Spock had walked over by Commander Scott who was repairing the engineering boards. And true to form, Spock was soon down on his hands and knees helping him.



Kirk could feel a slight blush creep up his collar as he observed Spock, ass in air. Now that was quite usual, as he seemed to dislike sitting when deep in thought. However, he hadn't typically engaged in such activity as a female wearing a mini skirt, blue bloomers exposed to the world.



As if that weren't quite enough, about 10 minutes later both he and Scott were lying on their backs, head deep in the console interior. Kirk caught himself looking again. Spock lying on his back, skirt gathered up around his waist, creamy, nylon-ed thighs spread haphazardly. Spock laying wantonly without care because electronics were fun.



Uhura coughed once, and Jim jerked his head over to her and caught her highly suspicious eye. He made a “What, me?” face and hastily went back to his work.



She harrumphed a few more times, and then more blatantly coughed “Spock!”



That brought his head out, and anyone staring quickly looked back at their respective work.



Uhura pointed at the Vulcan then frantically gestured at her lap, making brushing motions. Comprehension dawned, and Spock looked down then back up rapidly, quite affronted. He snapped his legs shut, and pushed his skirt back down. Though honestly it was so short it wasn't much more modest down than up. A subtly baffled and irritated look crossed his face when he started to halfway recline again and observed (along with everyone else) the skirt begin to climb higher the lower he got. With a very un-Vulcan look of disgust he stood upright and walked to the captain's chair.



In a hushed tone, Spock began, “Captain, I do not believe this uniform is suitable attire for the work I have to do.” Spock's eyes were wide with indignation.



Kirk froze up at the unexpected confrontation, and dumbly said, “I hadn't noticed.” He could feel the heat under his collar.



“I find that difficult to believe,” Mr. Spock said pointedly, though Jim was certain he hadn't noticed him looking. How could he have? His head was stuck in the console. Of course, Spock was acquainted with Jim's more... lecherous nature.



“If you have concerns about the uniform, I am sure the Quartermaster would be more than pleased to assist you.”



“Very well, I will bring the matter up with him after my shift. However, I feel obligated to point out to you the lack of practicality inherent in the design of this uniform. I do not believe they are suitable for any of the crewmembers.” Spock said archly, then returned to Scott's side.



“Duly noted, First Officer.” Kirk said, slightly confused by Spock the feminist.







Jim lay on his bunk, idly flipping through an old paperback book he had bought on some shore leave. Should he go visit Spock or not? He never would have thought twice, but now... Something was different, though he couldn't really say what. They just weren't as comfortable as they had been.



They had gone over some paperwork together in the conference room and things hadn't been awkward, per se. Just not the same amicable way it had been.



Spock seemed to have unruffled over the uniform, but had seemed reluctant to engage in the same verbal sparring they had before. And he... she had not indicated a desire to have dinner together or work out.



Jim supposed that was natural. He had been a woman once, it had been disorienting. But it hadn't been his body. It had been Janice Lester's and he never really thought for even a moment that he would be staying there. He just had known that. It had been a strange, mildly distasteful incident during his life on the Enterprise. To him it had little difference from loaning his body to Sargon or having other aliens take over his mind. All in a day's work.



He thought a little more, then sat up. Spock was his friend, his first officer, and he probably ought to go find out how he was doing.







Spock regarded himself in the mirror. He was a person who rarely spent much time staring at his visage. He just didn't. When he had gone off to Starfleet Academy and had female cadets come on to him, he had been quite surprised by it. By their talk of him being “cute” (how did that relate to being sexually attractive, he had wondered at the time) and other Terran words he had not really known.



So now he stood nude in front of the fresher and contemplated the issue. The male crew's reaction to his appearance seemed to indicate this body was desirable to them. Did he think it was desirable? It was difficult to say. He had never been particularly attracted to Vulcan females. Not because they were unattractive, but because they smacked too much of his home world's disapproval. He had found several females of his acquaintance desirable when he was younger, but once he had left Vulcan it had largely rendered the issue academic.



Now, as a post Pon Farr adult he was not even sure if he was attracted to women in general, let alone any species of them.



Still, objectively, this body appeared to be attractive. It was not overweight, it's breasts were not too large or too small. It seemed to conform to the Terran and Vulcan normative of attractive. He was not displeased. There was some pleasure for him in having a body that did not seem so deficient as he had often felt his previous one to be. Of course he was still a hybrid, but it was a different sensation to be stared at for positive reasons instead of negative.



There was also the matter of Jim. Spock had clearly seen he was intrigued by, if not aroused by this body. That was worth thinking on. Spock had been aware of a growing change in his attitude towards Jim. He felt warmer, more emotional towards him than earlier in the mission. Occasionally, he even thought of him a sexual way, though his fantasies were markedly immature and vague. Never of the explicit kind that Terrans seemed to love. More of mental connectivity, some undefinable physical dimension that was not rooted in friendship.



How did he feel about Jim wanting this body? It was really a philosophical issue, he supposed. If Jim coupled with this body, was he coupling with Spock or simply the body of a Vulcan female? If he allowed Jim to become involved with him in this form, would they continue if/when he changed back? Would Jim be coupling with him because of desire for this body, or for his mind?



Spock stopped himself, and stepped into the fresher. His thoughts had taken a turn in a direction he felt was pointless and speculative. He should really go and assist Doctor McCoy with the research regarding his transformation. That would be considerably more useful than what he was doing now.



He put it out of his mind and washed his hair.







Jim stood in front of Spock's quarters, and waited apprehensively. He chided himself for his ridiculousness. This was Spock, female or not. His personality was unchanged.



A moment later the door opened, and he entered.



“Spock,” he said by way of greeting.



The Vulcan tipped his head. Jim noted with some amusement that he was wearing some mis-sized workout clothes, and decided it was cute.



He felt his brow knit slightly at the thought, and consciously smoothed his face.



“I thought I would see how you were doing? Well, I hope?”



Spock looked thoughtful for a moment, then answered with a small shrug. “Yes, I think. I am not as disturbed as one would expect. What is, is. Perhaps.” A touch of amusement glittered in still familiar eyes.



Jim smiled in return, “I'm glad. I wouldn't want to be without you. On the bridge.” He clarified.



“Of course.”



He took a chair near the desk, where Spock had sat. They sat in silence for a few minutes, somewhere between uncomfortable and not.



“Would you care to play chess, Captain?” Spock finally asked.



“Not really. How about a walk? The observation deck?” He was shocked at himself, was this going where it seemed to be? He didn't deny an attraction to this new form, but really, that old saw? Was he going to seduce Spock under the stars? Even if he did, to what end? Penile-vaginal intercourse with an artificially, non-consensually, gender changed body housing his friend?



Spock nodded in assent, and went into the bathroom to change into uniform. It was one of those Spockian quirks that he rarely was seen in the ship's public out of something regulation.



He stepped out of the bathroom, curiously choosing the skirt uniform again, but Kirk kept his comments to himself.



They made small talk about the ship's business on the way, and it felt like old times until they reached the OD.



Spock stood in front of the big viewing port, and Kirk hung back for a moment watching, reconciling the slim woman and his brainy friend.



Jim sat on the bench and leaned back, relaxing. Spock turned around, framed by blue warp lights, and looked at him contemplatively. After a beat, he came to sit down, and Jim smiled in spite of himself. They turned to face each other, and their elbows brushed together. Jim wondered had they always sat this closely? Maybe they had, but it hadn't mattered.



“Jim...” Spock began, eyes luminous in the low light.



As Jim opened his mouth (to say what, he didn't know), a ship wide hail opened.



“Captain Kirk to the bridge, Captain Kirk to the bridge!”



Jim blinked, and strode up over to the wall. “Kirk here.”



The gamma shift communication officer answered, Jim couldn't place his name off the cuff, a new transfer from the last starbase. “We're picking up subspace interference that is similar to that when Mr. Spock was abducted.”



Spock made a “fascinating” face.



“I'll be right there. Commence level 1 scan. Kirk out.”





Kirk and Spock stepped out on the bridge, and the later beelined for the science station. Kirk was stopped by the communications officer.



“I decided to broadcast hailing frequencies and standard greetings at Lt. Uhura's suggestion. She thought that perhaps something is out there and might want to communicate.”



“Good thinking, any results.”



He looked disappointed. “No, sir.”



“All the same, carry on.”



“Aye.”



After a few moments of intense activity, scanning and hailing, the communication officer announced the interference gone. Kirk let his breath out as he thought for a minute.



Spock stepped up to where Kirk was standing, near the center seat. “If I may, I would like to have all the data piped to my computer in my quarters. I will try to correlate it, and see if there may be a previously unnoticed connection.”



“Very well, you'll keep me informed?”



“Naturally.”



“Well, if that's all the excitement, I am going back to my quarters. Larson, resume command.” He walked to the turbo lift to the sound of “aye aye.” Spock finished speaking to the on-duty science officer, and walked with undue haste to catch the turbo lift.



Even the untimely interruption hadn't discharged the thrum of tension between them. As they stepped off the lift to part ways, they hesitated for a moment. Kirk put out a hand, but dropped it half way through the gesture.



“Good night, Mr. Spock.”



Spock stood still with a peculiar look on his now beautiful face.



“Good night, Captain.”





The next morning, Kirk woke up feeling moderately well rested. He skipped breakfast and just took a cup of coffee to the conference room for their morning officer's meeting. All the department heads, plus alpha shift navigation, Chekov and Sulu.



“Mr. Spock, any luck with your correlation? Otherwise, we will move on to our next assignment.”



Spock settled back into the seat, then folded his hands primly. “I have formed something of a working hypothesis. I believe the subspace interference is related to an opening of space fabric. I believe somehow space-time is being moved through, possibly by beings in another dimension. I have placed on your padds my equations relating to this, and how I arrived at my conclusion.”



“Very interesting. Any suggestions? How to communicate to the beings? Do you think they are the ones responsible for you current state?”



Spock shook his head negative. “It is possible these hypothetical beings are coming from another dimension and have caused this, but it is speculative. I have no evidence other than concurrence.”



Kirk nodded, then turned to McCoy. “What does life sciences say?”



McCoy poked at his padd, then looked up from it. “I'll be stymied, Jim.” He turned to Spock. “I'm sorry. I see no evidence of the causal mechanism. None. Your genes are as perfect as if you had originally been engineered female. There is no breakdown, no damage, no instability. And your body is....perfect. Your organs are in good health.” He shrugged.



“So we've nothing to go on?” Scotty checked.



“So it would appear, ” Spock intoned.



Kirk made a pensive face. “I am sorry to say we have orders to move on from this area, towards the Beta Antares system for a rendezvous with the Endeavor to exchange some personnel. Starfleet has laid out some options for you, Spock, which I can give you in private if you prefer.”



Spock raised an eyebrow. “I see no need for options, sir. I desire to remain with the Enterprise regardless of my gender. I can see no reason why I would not be allowed to continue my service here.”



McCoy made a little face and put some notes on his padd. Kirk gave him an eye, but continued his conversation.



“I have no objection. Starfleet merely made open the option of joining the science vessel Altena, if you wished. They will be in this sector shortly, and it would allow you to remain in this space to research.”



“That is very kind of Starfleet. However, I have no leads to go on. I see no reason to leave my home on a wild goose chase, if you will.” He looked very thoughtful for a moment.



“I wouldn't presume to force you,” Kirk said gently. He leaned back in his chair, and took his eyes off the brooding Vulcan female. “Anything else?”



The officers chatted for a few moments, then everyone began to break up. McCoy walked over to where Spock was still sitting.



“I'd like you to come down to sick bay with me, please.”



“And why would that be necessary? You have proclaimed me to be the picture of health,” Spock retorted with considerable sauce.



“Please, I think there are things we need to talk about.” McCoy said earnestly and could see by the flicker of thoughts across the Vulcan's face he had won.



“Very well, is now acceptable? I will send a replacement to the bridge.”



“Yes, I'll be in my office.”







It was with some apprehension Spock made his way to sick bay. Dr. McCoy was quite astute when he wasn't being swayed by undue emotionalism. Spock could only presume that he wished to speak with him about his decision to remain aboard the Enterprise.



McCoy was waiting behind his desk, office door open. Spock took a seat.



Without preamble he asked, “How are you? I mean, really. You must have some thoughts about your situation.”



“What would you have me say? Our research has yielded no explanation, or lead into changing my state back to male.”



Blue eyes narrowed.



“I just don't see you trying as much as I though you would be. Aren't you upset? Don't you want to be changed back?”



“I am Vulcan. I accept what is. I am doing what I can. I must accept this is reality,” Spock answered rigidly.



“What if I said I thought there was more to it than that?” McCoy asked in a way that meant he was going to say something that was probably too close to home.



“I know how you feel about the captain,” McCoy said softly, without reproach. “And I know what 's been happening on Vulcan.”



Spock turned his head sharply to the doctor. Currently, there was a heated debate happening on Vulcan, and spreading, about the safety and logic of Vulcan male-male relationships. One side of the faction was arguing that they were a dangerous throwback to pre-Reform days, and were threatening to undermine the stability of current Vulcan society. The other side argued that not only was it free choice, but it was a proud tradition that shouldn't be looked down upon. It had been getting ugly, with some outrageous essays being published throughout Vulcan space suggesting that homosexual Vulcans might be more at home with their estranged brethren in the Romulan empire.



“Do you feel so bound by tradition that this is easier somehow?” McCoy asked, looking incredulous. “I don't know how Jim feels toward you Spock, but I know this. As much as he sleeps with women, he never...loves them, Spock. He loves you, as much as I've ever seen him care for anybody. I wouldn't do this hoping for something more.”



Spock closed his eyes, and allowed a sigh to escape. “I appreciate your concerns, Dr. McCoy. They are duly noted. Regardless, I would prefer to remain on the Enterprise. I was truthful when I said I do not readily see a line of inquiry to pursue. I see no value in losing the remainder of my life to an unforeseen possibility.”



“Dammit, Spock. You're one of the smartest people in the Federation. If you can't find a way, no one can! Are you content to hope the answer will fall in you lap in the next 30 hours we are still in this space?” the doctor said heatedly.



“I will continue my research, however I will be leaving with the Enterprise.” He stood up, stepped closer to the doctor. “Leonard, please try to understand my decision.”



The doctor looked defeated but nodded his head. “Whatever makes you happy. Before you go I would like to run your psych again. It won't take more than a few minutes.”



A Vulcan smile ghosted across his otherwise placid face. “I am aware, doctor.”





Alpha shift flew by, with everyone putting in a last minute effort to unravel the mystery of this space. There was an air of disappointment when it ended, as they were no closer to an answer than when they started and it was only 22 more hours until they were due to depart.



Jim caught Spock en route to his quarters before supper.



“Spock.”



The Vulcan stopped and turned back to face him. “Yes, Captain?” Utterly serene.



“Can I speak with you in private?”



“Certainly, my quarters are acceptable?” Kirk scrutinized his face. It was as closed as the day they met, none of the subtle warmth that he would have normally seen and been touched by. He nodded affirmative.



They stepped into the dim quarters, and Spock went to fetch two beverages. There was a moment of waiting, then Jim blurted out, “I'm sorry, Spock. I wish there was something I could do. Should we stay? I could find a way.”



Spock looked at him. “You, we, have done everything we could. I see nothing further to be done. Whatever is happening appears to be beyond anything we have encountered before. And if I may venture, any beings sophisticated enough to be able to abduct me out of this dimension are probably quite beyond our capacity to fathom, let alone force to act.”



“That seems a bit defeatist of you.” Jim said.



“Perhaps it is not as important to me as it is to you. I am not the same as you.”



“You don't feel gender is a fundamental part of you who you are? I find that a little difficult to believe. You aren't the most uh....” he struggled to put it diplomatically, “ the most progressive person I have met, in terms of women.”



“My relationship towards women has been strongly conditioned by my upbringing on Vulcan. Women and men do not have the same type of relationships there as on Earth. It is unfortunate that I have allowed that to affect my relationships with human females aboard this vessel. I will endeavor to prevent it from happening again.”



Jim smiled. “I am not lecturing you about your conduct towards women. The female crew members have seen fit to reprimand you, and you seem to have learned from it. I am just saying, I don't believe that being male doesn't somehow factor into your self-hood. If you follow me.”



Spock sat down by the desk, where Kirk was perched. He placed his teacup on the smooth surface, then looked up thoughtfully.



“It is difficult to explain. I do value my previous identity. But,” he paused collecting his thoughts, “but I am an artificial being. I have known of that from the moment I became self-aware. I was that, now I am this. I have never placed a great emphasis on the physical, particularly in relationship to my own flesh. This is my body, I do not suffer the same level of attachment to mine that you do to yours.”



Kirk rolled his eyes. “I don't suffer from attachment to my body.”



“Do you not? Does not aging, infirmity, and the cessation of its functions bother you? It does, I know this,” Spock said pointedly.



“And it doesn't bother you?”



“I do not believe in the same way. It is part of the Vulcan philosophy, an emphasis on the mind and mental life. I simply propose that these factors make it easier for me to accept my gender changing. Nothing more.”



Jim stood up, preparing to leave. Spock stood automatically.“If you say. All the same, I am sorry that we haven't been able to help you.” He placed his hands on narrow shoulders, trying to convey his support. He was surprised when Spock slid into the hoop of his arms and embraced him back.



“I appreciate your sentiments, Jim. I am gratified that you care for me.” Spock said, face against Jim's shirt.



Jim had no reply to both the unexpected sentiment or action, and simply squeezed a little bit tighter.







“Alright, good morning everyone,” the captain said to the gathered staff at the habitual morning meeting. “Mr. Sulu, plot a course for Starbase 42 in the Beta Antares system, implement upon your arrival at the bridge.”



“Already prepared, sir.” Sulu replied.



“Excellent, what's our ETA?”



“Twelve solar days at warp 4.”



Kirk nodded his head. “Departments, please make a list of your needs, and we will see what the Starbase can do for you. Additionally, we will be scheduling 3 days shore leave, please prepare your rosters.”



There was a small ripple of approval. The planned route was through high traffic space, and was expected to be quiet. Starbase 42 was something of a cultural hub, as far as starbases go. There was often a variety of musical and artistic happenings there. Everyone seemed to be looking forward to a little downtime. The Enterprise had just come off of a string of stressful planetfalls ranging from Klingon standoffs to rebuilding an earthquake devastated colony.



After dismissal, Jim wandered over to Spock, who was absorbed in something on his padd computer. A slow smile moved across his face. He was glad that whatever shape Spock was in, s/he would be staying on the ship.



Standing at the Vulcan's shoulder, he leaned in close, but not too close and said, “Last chance, Mr. Spock. Once in a lifetime research in this space.”



Spock swiveled his head and gave a non-smile, “I shall manage, in spite of the loss of undoubtedly fascinating potential experiences on the Altena.”



“Good.” Jim replied, but didn't elaborate. He could feel the other's contemplation for a moment, then Spock gathered a few disks off the table, and slipped by him.



“I will see you on the bridge, sir?”



“Yes, I'll be there shortly.”



Jim needed a moment and a cup of coffee to collect himself.





Spock looked into the science viewer, bent over it, oblivious to the effect it was probably having. After giving the topic considerable meditative thought, and some old fashioned human thought also, he had concluded that a) he was quite smitten with the captain, and b) he would press the advantage he now had in hand. That advantage being female, which was Jim's seemingly preferred gender for engaging in sexual activity. Spock had thought about the ethics of such a campaign, but had deemed it irrelevant. If he was going to be stuck in this female body, this would be a fine compensation for it in his opinion.



Though, thus far, Spock could find little complaint with it. This logically forced him to reconsider many of the attitudes towards women he had come across. This body was literally weaker, but only marginally. Additionally, it would not experience Pon Farr and it appeared to need less food and oxygen. These were all positives. His mind did not seem suddenly weakened by being bathed in a different hormonal chemistry, nor did his emotions suddenly seem more rampant. Though he realized some of these were Terran conceptions, not Vulcan. All the same, it was worthy of some thought.



It occurred to Spock that he would have to somehow let the captain know he welcomed his advances. That had been difficult as a male, not only because of his own Vulcan mores, but because of the persistent human male conditioning of reluctance to speak on emotional topics or convey affection outside of a few culturally accepted methods. Several methods which they already engaged in: game playing, athletic activity, social drinking (though Spock rarely partook during this), and still he had not come closer to broaching the topic with Jim.



He chose to take a dual approach to researching acceptable methods of wooing Jim, or at least letting him know he was open to it. He reviewed the behaviors of many of Jim's previous partners and studying the plethora of romance themed books and films from Earth.



First, Jim's partners. They were often scantily clad. Spock did not have something particular against the thought, though it had taken him some time to adjust to the...breeziness of the skirt uniform.

They made suggestive faces, a softening of the facial features. They often wore eye-make up to presumably enhance the expressiveness of the eyes? What was the Terran saying? The eyes are a window to the soul. Spock was not sure he would be either comfortable with or capable of emulating this behavior. It had taken him a lifetime to master the expression of emotion, it seemed counter productive to abandon the practice to make “doe” eyes at the captain.



Many of Jim's sexual partners laughed at his anecdotes. They sat close to him. They smiled often. They made sexual innuendo. Spock suppressed a small sigh. Thus far it did not bode well for him. Spock was simply not able to engage in these behaviors. They were antithetical to the Vulcan way, not to mention wildly out of character.



For the rest of his shift (around his work, of course!), he reviewed popular Terran based romantic comedies, both film and book. Many of the behaviors he already dismissed were present. Often the seducer lowered the object of their desire's inhibitions through cuisine, alcohol, or drugs. That was something of a possibility. In these books and movies, there was a often a point in time where the in-love party attempted to make the other person jealous, by looking different or allowing a third party to engage in courtship behavior.



Suddenly, a plan was forming in a slightly more devious than average Vulcan head.







Uhura was bored out of her skull. She ticked off in all the languages she could think of how to say bored. Needless to say, the exercise did little to alleviate said feeling. She couldn't wait to get off this ship for a few days. Go meet some people, eat real food, do something other than listen to or repair comm boards!



The door chime snapped her out of her train of thought. She pulled her caftan down and answered the door. She was a bit surprised when it was Mr. Spock.



“Sir? Can I help you?” She asked with concern. She couldn't really think of why he would be here at 20:00.



“Yes, I have a few questions I would like to ask you, if they are not too inappropriate?” he asked, his face frozen in stoic repose.



Uhura struggled to keep reaction to herself. “Certainly, sir. Please, come in.” The Vulcan walked stiffly into her quarters, and quickly chose the nearest chair.



She waited for him to speak. The Vulcan fidgeted slightly, then began.



“As you know we are coming upon the starbase in a few days, and I have a desire to see the Mendehlorian symphony that will be playing there. I would like your input on what would constitute appropriate attire.”



Uhura blinked rapidly, her mental wheels spinning. Spock had never attended a symphony in anything other than his dress uniform the entire time he had been on the ship. So what was the actual purpose behind this? She suspected Jim. She was greatly amused by the tripling of that strange, magnetic tension between them. If they had been confused about their relationship before, Spock's new womanliness seemed to be sending them into overdrive. Uhura thought it was quite dense of the captain to only realize now what a superb match for him Spock was. She supposed it could be difficult for some to overlook a lifetime of heterosexuality. The thoughts softened her a bit to Spock's plight.



“It's black tie, I assume?” she questioned sweetly.



“Affirmative.”



“Well, I suppose for something like the Mendehlorian you would want classy, sophisticated, a little more sober.” She tapped her finger to her lips. She went and sat behind her desk and activated her computer. With her hand, she gestured for the Vulcan to come sit closer. A discreetly curious look was on the other woman's face.



“This is Robe Palais' net catalog, they have a store at the Starbase. You could pick something out, then have it sent up when we arrive.”



“Indeed, and what would you suggest?” Spock asked, catching her eye.



Uhura gave an easy smile, and scrolled through the pictures. Her eyes stopped on a black cocktail dress. The top was a rich looking fabric that was wider across the shoulder and came down in a neat V. The skirt was tulle and began at the hip, down to the knee. It was sexy, but not too revealing.



“How about this, Spock? Maybe with some gloves and nice shoes?”



The Vulcan looked at it appraisingly, the gave a nod. “It appears satisfactory. Do I require anything else?”



Uhura couldn't imagine Spock being ostentatious, but there was overly bland, too. “Shoes are important. I don't think you should wear your boots. How about those, do you think you could walk in them?” She pointed to some black, open-toed mules with some crystal embellishments.



Spock cocked an eyebrow at the lieutenant.



“They'll be beautiful, and they aren't so high. You want to look...appropriate, don't you?” she wheedled, a yes lending credence to the theory in her head.



“If they are appropriate.” Spock concurred cautiously. “I believe I will be cold in that attire, is there a suitable over garment for it?”



Uhura quickly picked out a black cape, with a high wide collar. “You can wear this over the top, but you should take it off at the performance or you'll look weird.”



When he agreed, she sent the order off with Spock's measurements. The Vulcan stood up, lingering for a moment.



“Lieutenant.”



“Yes, Mr. Spock?”



“Thank you for your assistance. I am indebted to you.”



“It was my pleasure. Wait a moment, before you go.” She dashed over to her dresser and gathered a few items up.



She handed over a few tubes to Spock. “It's mascara, for your eyelashes. And this one is lip gloss. It's very simple, and no, you won't look made-up.” The Vulcan didn't respond, but his eyes widened briefly.



“Is it sanitary to share cosmetics?”



Uhura crimped her lips, but walked back to her vanity.



“Here, these are new.”



He bowed fractionally, “Again, I thank you. Inform me of your desired compensation for this,” the slim woman held up the tubes, “ and I shall gladly repay you.”



“Don't worry about it, Spock. Why don't you bring me the libretto from the performance? There is a vocal portion, correct?”



“Affirmative.”



“That's enough for me. Go and have a good time, I wish I could go.” Uhura waited by the door to see the other person out.



“I will attempt to do so. Good night, Lieutenant.”



“Good night, Mr. Spock.”







For the next eleven days, Spock made a concerted effort to spend more time with Jim. He dined with him, played chess with him, and resumed working out with him. He found exercising with him to be very satisfying, and helpful to The Plan. Practicing martial arts provided Spock with an excellent excuse to wear skimpy attire and touch Jim without concern, and often without prying eyes.



For their sessions, Spock chose the most popular women's style outfit according to the computer's requisition logs. Conveniently for his seduction, it was a long sleeved leotard with some sort of long sock over the lower leg. After studying the romance materials, it occurred to him that perhaps many of the female crew chose this attire in an attempt to obtain sexual partners! Perhaps that is also why they wore short skirts regularly as well! Spock surprised himself with this sudden insight to human behavior, and found it interesting that so many behaviors seemed to exist in an attempt to “get laid,” in the vernacular.



Needless to say, the leotard was a successful gambit, though Spock found removing portions of pubic hair to wear it inconvenient. The look on Jim's face when he entered the gym the first time was well worth it. His eyes bogged, then he blushed and paled. When he seemed more composed he offered Spock a hale greeting.



Spock had suggested a variation on the Vulcan war art he had been teaching Kirk. This variety involved considerably more grappling.



Spock felt the familiar and disturbing electricity dance across his skin as they wrestled. He easily won the first several bouts, then let Jim pin him, back down. He savored the feeling of Jim's weight holding this body down, the tang of his sweat, the smooth muscles under his hands. They locked eyes for a moment, then Spock let go but continued to lay there.



Jim remained hovered over him for a few invigorating and confusing moments, then pushed up and away. He stood facing away from the Vulcan, but was ready when Spock was back on his feet.



They moved on to technique. Spock kept his smile to himself while noting the irregular hammer of Jim's heart as they positioned their bodies against each other. They went through throws and breaks. The whole process involved prolonged touching.



After an hour, a soft chime marked the end of their scheduled period. Spock was pleased when Jim suggested they work out again tomorrow. Every session up to debarking at the base was equally charged, much to Spock's pleasure. All according to plan.











Bones raised his glass and said, “To shore leave, Jim. To shore leave.” He took a healthy swig, then made an “ah” sound as he clinked it down on the desktop.



Jim smiled and reciprocated the gesture.



“So, Jim. What are you plans for a whole 3 days off?” the doctor asked.



Jim leaned back, and licked his lower lip thoughtfully. “I don't know. I guess go out a bit, maybe send something home to my mom. Not exactly big excitement. Yourself?”



“Well, I thought you might want to join me at the Pussycat Lounge. They got a boat load of Risa girls, apparently they are on tour. Whatever that means.” Bones had a randy light in his eyes.



“Yeah, I guess. I don't know, Bones. Maybe the pressure is getting to me, I just feel tired. I kind of want to do something quiet, relaxed.”



Bones pulled a face, “I dunno. Ain't my thing, but I heard from Uhura that Spock is goin' to that symphony. I'm sure you could join in.”



Jim's eyes widened. “Woof. Have you seen the cost? I don't even know anything about it, but damn! It better come with room service for the price of those tickets. It's a bit rich for my tastes.”



“Then I guess you're stuck with me and the Pussycat girls.” Bones said lasciviously.



“I can think of worse fates.” Jim commented.



“Alright!” Bones clapped his hands and jumped up. “I don't about you, Jim-boy. But I got the urge to tie one on. Whoo!”



Jim stood up to exit, and the door chime sounded.



“Enter.”



“Greetings, Doctor, Captain,” Spock said, entering in his new attire.



Bones had his back turned to the door, and began his harangue sight unseen. “Jesus, Spock. It's the first night of shore leave. Call me Len, Leonard, Bones, hey ya, doc. Anything but that title bullshit. Unlike you I gotta listen to green ensigns kiss my ass all day, so lay off.”



Spock made a face of long suffering, then turned to Jim. Jim let his eyes drink in the sight of his first officer all dressed up. It was quite pleasant.



“Doctor, I did not intend to intrude on your conviviality, however I did wish to speak with the captain before I left the ship.”



Jim stepped closer. “Of course, Spock. You weren't interrupting.”



“I wished to inquire whether or not you would be free for dining on the starbase with me.”



“Of course, when did you have in mind?”



“I thought a late lunch tomorrow at Stargaze? To my understanding they are one of few establishments that serve 4 star Michelin quality food off-planet.”



“Is that so? I would be delighted to join you. Is 14:00 ship time okay?”



“That would be acceptable. Enjoy your shore leave, Jim.” Spock turned for the door.



“Same to you, Spock.”



Bones sauntered over, his face plastered with a smug grin. “Holy shit! Did'ja see that?” His grin faltered as he saw the look on Jim's face- one that he had seen countless times before in a hundred bars, restaurants, on a dozen planets.



Jim straightened up. “Are you ready then?”



Bones' face had ironed out to concerned but he concealed it from Jim. “Yeah, let's go.”

Bones figured it was going to be an interesting night.







Spock studiously ignored the looks from the transporter officer who beamed him to the space station. He was quite curious about it, as this was his first visit here. Starbase 42 was only partially a military installation. It also was home to a wide variety of civilian business that needed to operate in deep space. Because of this there were many permanent residents, which meant the interior was quite different from a fully Starfleet starbase. The transporter lounge he beamed down to was beautifully decorated in purples and blues that matched the hues produced by light reflected off space dust and debris visible out of the giant viewport to one side.



Uncertain of where to go, he headed to the information desk situated a short distance away. The worker was a Mendehlorian, and the large population of their species on this starbase was why they were being graced with a concert. Objectively, the Medehlorians were a visually intriguing species. Their eyes were lidless, large, and a deep black. Their skin was turquoise or lavender, a byproduct of the unusual wavelength of their native sun and the various types of radiation that bathed their home solar system. As opposed to hair, they possessed malleable flesh that drooped off of their heads. This flesh could be molded into elaborate “hair” styles, and were often augmented with objects. Their high resistance to radiation made them excellent deep space workers, though they were not particularly inclined to working with Starfleet.



This particular attendant had her strips of flesh wound around her head, and wrapped up with brown straps that matched her uniform.



“Excuse me, I am here for the performance. Could you direct me to the appropriate location, please?”



She gave a mellifluous laugh, clearly amused by something. Her voice was fascinating, as she spoke in chords, the result of several trachea with vocal capacity, as well as with Standard words. He was intrigued- C major, then a diminished 7th, he could have kept listening until he realized he was missing her answer.



“The concert has been pushed back 1 hour, to allow some of the performers coming in on the Io more time to prepare. A space storm has delayed their docking. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”



“I assure you, it is no inconvenience.”



She tipped and rotated her head, far beyond the capacity of either a human or a Vulcan. “There is a delightful drinking establishment about 400 meters from here. Many of the concert goers are waiting there, perhaps you would like to join them, Commander Spock.”



He raised his eyebrow in surprise about her knowing, but did not respond to it.



“Yes, waiting there seems acceptable. Thank you.”



He quickly walked on, looking at the tapestries and plants decorating the corridor. The ceiling was also viewports, or facsimiles that corresponded with the current conditions. Either way, it was truly amazing. Spock thought that the décor seemed to be “romantic” by Terran standards. He wondered had he truly been so ignorant of these subtleties until now, even though he had lived and served with humans for so many years?



He thought about his courtship with Leila Kalomi, such that it was. Leila had been the pursuer. She had picked him out at the Academy campus, ate lunch with him, discussed science with him, and finally had asked him out on a date. He had reluctantly agreed, highly interested in the whole thing, though perhaps not in the way Leila would have hoped. After one or two activities together, official date activities, she had invited him to her apartment. He had reasonably inferred that she wished to engage in sexual relations.



Would he be able to instigate sexual relations with Jim using the same techniques? Leila had sat next to him, then placed her hand on his thigh. When he did not object, she breathed in his ear, then kissed his neck. He had turned his head and they kissed deeply, their tongues touching, something he found exotic, humans with their moist mouths. She had placed her hand on his groin outside of his pants, and had laughed at his confusion, then placed his hand on her breast. It became easier as they continued and it was intuitive by the time he penetrated her.



Spock imagined Jim's hand on his breasts, between his legs and felt his blood accelerate. He could easily imagine placing his hand on Jim's thigh, moving it up to touch his penis, feeling it get hard as he had occasionally seen it. It would be highly satisfactory.



He arrived at the establishment, a slight flush rising from his train of thought. He controlled it. As much as he was anticipating the symphony, he had no desire to wait. He felt a slight regret that he had made his lunch with Jim tomorrow, perhaps if they had dined tonight instead they could have engaged in sexual activity afterwards. However, it was done, it could not be changed.



He picked a stool at the bar, and ordered a champagne. It was a secret pleasure he allowed himself sometimes. The effervescence seemed decadent and playful, he could not think of a more un-Vulcan seeming beverage.



A human male, in his early 30's perhaps, sat in the stool next to him. He was blond, true blond, with fair skin and blue eyes. He ordered a whiskey, then turned to face Spock.



“What's a beautiful woman like you doing all by herself tonight?”



Spock felt his eyebrow raise almost against his will. “Surely you do not think stale pick up lines will work on a Vulcan?”



“No, I didn't, but you're talking to me, so it sort of worked.”



“That is one interpretation.” He replied drily.



“Are you here for the symphony?” the human tried again.



This human represented an opportunity to make Jim jealous by engaging in courtship behavior with another. Excellent. It was also a fine chance to practice some flirtatious behavior.



“I am. Is this your first time seeing the Medehlorians perform?”



“Actually, no. I set up the sound for them. I'm just relaxing until the other performers arrive. And how about you, is this your first time? It can be quite the experience if you don't know what you are in for.” He smiled at him, clearly pleased that they were speaking.



“I have never seen this particular symphony, however I have seen members of the Mendehlorian species perform before,” Spock replied. He was concerned about a lull in the conversation as he did not know where to go with it. Thankfully, the human stepped in.



“I'm Lynn Menzel, by the way,” and held out his hand. Spock cautiously offered his hand in return, and was mildly amused when Lynn kissed it.



“I am Spock.” He had briefly contemplated using a different name, but it seemed overly difficult, not to mention duplicitous. He merely hoped Lynn was not an avid follower of Starfleet politics.



“I think you may be the first Vulcan I've ever met in a bar,” Lynn said.



“I would not be here if the performance was starting on time.”



“Is there someplace you would rather be? I have a very cool access pass...” Lynn added conspiratorially. Spock briefly thought he would rather be about a million places than playing pick up with this person, but refrained. Instead, he simply concentrated on appearing interested.



“We could go look at the auditorium if you wanted.” Spock could tell he sincerely wished him to join him.



“I am not adverse to seeing the performance space.” He stood up and put his nearly finished glass on the bar.



“Great!” Lynn finished his drink hastily. Spock re-buttoned his over-cloak , and they walked to the back of the bar. Lynn swiped his card, and a door opened that lead in to the interior of the starbase. They walked through some utility passageways, and Spock felt conscious of the small space between them. The only person he generally allowed to stand in such proximity was Jim, and McCoy when necessary. They arrived at another door, and Lynn turned to smile at him again before he swiped the card. He allowed himself the slightest non-smile, even though he wasn't attracted to him.



The auditorium was enormous with impeccable acoustics. Even if there was little other reason to perform at Starbase 42, this auditorium might well be good enough. Constructed with the Mendehlorians deep understanding of sound, nearly every seat in the house was a “good” seat. Lynn played a few bars of something unfamiliar on the stage piano while Spock walked around.



“Are you impressed?”



“Quite. It is a most impressive structure.”



“Ha. I'm glad you approve.” Lynn stepped closer as Spock walked back up the stage. There was a beeping from his pocket. “Well, that's my cue that Io has arrived. I'm afraid I have to go, but it was very nice to meet you. Are you going to be around for awhile?”



“I will be here for two more days, if that qualifies as awhile.”



“I'd really like to meet you again, we can just talk, no pressure.”



“It is a possibility, here is my comm code, you may leave a message.” Spock gave him the public Enterprise code, which would more easily bring to Jim's attention any incoming messages.



Lynn fiddled with his beeper, “I just messaged my code to you. I really hope to hear from you again. You can take your seat if you want. I'll tell security on my way out. Goodbye.” Lynn darted in to kiss Spock's cheek. Spock wrinkled his nose when Lynn was out of sight. He went and took his seat and waited patiently.



He mentally reviewed the encounter. He calculated a 96% probability that Lynn would contact him tomorrow morning. He hoped Jim would be alert enough to notice it prior to their lunch date. It had been a successful play, if slightly unpleasant. He sat back and indulged in the sense of anticipation pooling in his abdomen, and it wasn't just for the symphony.





Bones took his eyes of the Risa girl and her fine, fine ass about a foot from his face to look at Jim. His lips were set in a sort of grim line, and he was drinking at about Mach 10. Bones wanted to get drunk and have a good time, but he had learned sometime ago that Jim was about as fun as an STD when he got like this. Even the women couldn't cajole him out of his little funk.



Bones knew exactly what it was, but he wasn't quite up to playing shrink tonight and had instead left Jim to handle it himself. He knew it was Spock getting to him. Over the past months he had almost felt like Jim and Spock had been falling in love, for lack of better terminology. They lit each other up, and brought out their best qualities. Now with Spock looking like he escaped from an alien skin mag, he could tell it had Jim in a dither.



But honestly he didn't know what to say. His instinct said disaster. What if Spock changed back, could Jim handle that? Could Spock? It seemed easy this way, if one of them had been biologically female the entire world probably would have been urging them together, but actual reality? And further more, Spock had been socialized ridiculously Vulcan in his opinion. Did Jim have any idea what that meant? Vulcan love terrified Bones, it seemed much more akin to a different human emotion to him: obsession. If Jim grew tired of Spock, male or female, would Spock be able to let go? Or vice versa?



He sipped his drink, ending his analysis. He was on vacation, dammit. Jim would have to work out his own fucking problems for once.







Jim woke up with the taste of stale booze in his mouth and his head stuffed full of cotton. He sat up in his own bed, surprised at being there. Good old Bones. All Jim remembered was getting terrifically drunk and getting a blow job from a dark haired woman in the back of the lounge.



He felt so stupid, not only had he brought Bones' evening down, but he hated when he let the sexed up part of himself run away from him. He was well reconciled to using sex for all sorts of things, but he didn't like it when it wasn't a conscious decision. And last night hadn't been. He knew the only reason it had happened was because some woman coincidentally looked quite Spock-ish, even if she had been humanoid. She'd had slavic cheeks, strong nose, and a Betty Page haircut that framed her face in with dark. It had just been drunken weakness on his part. He did feel a bit more relaxed though. At least it had accomplished that much.



He took a shower and swallowed some detox, then sat down to review his messages and whatnot before meeting Spock for lunch. Hmm, that was odd. There was quite a bit of traffic on the public code. He reviewed it, and thought it was even stranger that it was several civilian messages to Spock. Why wouldn't Spock just use his own code? Everyone had a semi-private code. It was subject to review by officers if necessary, but it allowed people to have some privacy about who was contacting them. However if people contacted you via the public code, it would always show up when Jim, Spock, or a communications officer logged on.



Jim would never pry at someone's communications, would he? Jim looked around, as if the room was going to condemn him, then clicked on the first one to Spock.



Spock, it was very nice to meet you. I was most impressed with your musical knowledge. Katara and I will be practicing in the auditorium at the attached times if you would like to join us. Manta.



That wasn't too unusual. Spock seemed to easily meet musicians, and most Vulcans were technically proficient players. Jim didn't know too much about music, but he had gathered from those more versed than he that Spock was something of an artistic player as well. Jim liked the idea that Spock might communicate his feelings more readily through music than words.



Well in for a penny in for a pound, Jim thought and clicked the next message. He felt his stomach swoop in an unpleasant way.



Spock, as you already know it was entirely my pleasure meeting you. I hope that you might oblige me again with your company tonight. There is a soirée of sorts at Club 42. It's mostly symphony people. I hope you will join me. You can call me direct at this number.



Lynn Menzel

MPS Sound Director, etc etc.



If Jim didn't know better, that sounded like someone inviting Spock on a date, and Jim knew he didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit, Spock was his... His... what exactly? He steered his mind away from it, and finished his paperwork. Soon enough his computer reminded him about his lunch date, and he left resolving to keep his discovery to himself.







Spock arrived 8 minutes early at Stargaze. He knew Jim would be punctual, though probably not early. He had taken the trouble to purchase a few more casual clothes this morning, so he did not have to wear his uniform this afternoon. The clothes he was wearing were sedate, even by Spock's standards. A black skirt, his service boots and a Vulcan cut cobalt shirt. However, he hoped that it would be a sufficient change to draw Jim's attention.



Jim arrived shortly, and sat down with a rueful little smile that Spock didn't not quite understand. It was the sort of face humans made when they felt bad for something. The question was what did Jim feel bad for? It crossed his mind that Jim had possibly engaged in sexual relations last night, perhaps that was the cause?



“Good afternoon, Jim. I hope you had a restful sleep.”



“Ah, thanks, Spock. I did. How was the symphony?”



“Most excellent, the selections were intriguing, and of course, the performance itself was superb.”



“So, those Mendehlorians are really good, I hear.”



“Indeed, their species is well adapted for excellence in music. You have not heard them play?”



“No, I've never had the opportunity.”



“If I had known I would have supplied you with a ticket.”



“Maybe next time.”



“As you wish.”



The waiter came promptly and they ordered. When the waiter left, Spock tried to catch Jim's eye, but was trying not to be obvious. After a moment he was successful, and he let his face soften a minuscule, which made Jim smile in response.



“I forgot to mention it yesterday, but you looked very beautiful.”



Spock peered coyly at Jim, “thank you.”



“And today, you look good, too.”



“Is that so?”



“I've always thought blue suits you.”



“Did you enjoy your evening with the good doctor? I trust the Pussycat Lounge was stimulating?”



“Ha ha, that's one way of putting it. Yeah, it was okay. Sometimes I think maybe I am outgrowing that kind of partying though. Another spaceport, another woman.” He gave a small shrug.



“Perhaps you have found what you are looking for elsewhere.” Spock suggested.



“Perhaps.”



The food arrived, and they ate and talked about whatever. It was pleasant, but not what Spock had hoped to accomplish. He had thought that Jim may broach the topic himself, sparing Spock the difficulty. Apparently, he was wrong.



After dessert, they left the restaurant and walked on the promenade, going no where in particular. Spock was feeling slightly desperate, knowing now was the time. Tomorrow afternoon they would depart, and they both would be confined by their roles as captain and officer again. That feeling made him bold, and instead of taking his usual place a step behind the captain, he walked beside him and put his hand on the back of Jim's bicep. His acute hearing heard a little exhale from Jim, and his step faltered. Then Jim adjusted his arm so Spock could loop his arm through. Success!



After a moment of walking like that Jim lifted his free arm, and placed his hand over his. The feel of Jim's fingers running over the tops of his could possibly be the most erotic encounter of his life thus far. This simple act with Jim was more arousing than anything he had done with Leila, Zarabeth, or the handful of other sex partners he'd had.



Spock turned to his captain. “I have rented facilities here on the starbase, would you like to come and have some tea?”



Jim looked confused. “Tea?”



“Yes, tea.” Spock thought perhaps he had wildly miscalculated. Surely Jim would see this was a blatant ruse to retire to someplace more private.



“Tea. Okay. I thought there was some art you wanted to see or something.”



“Art? No.” Something, yes.



On the way to Spock's hotel room, he madly planned what exactly he was going to do. Jim was being unusually slow to ascertain his desires, which Spock felt was most unlike him. He hoped Jim was well.

When they arrived he quickly made the tea, then sat down next to Jim on the love seat.



Jim sipped his tea, “Is this something special? It's good, but I was just wondering.”



Spock placed his hand on Jim's knee and Jim nearly dropped his cup. “No, it is a common blend of assam, darjeeling, and orange pekoe cut.”



For safety's sake, he removed the cup from Jim's hand, and looked at Jim intensely. “I must tell you something.”



Jim looked slightly breathless, “Yes?”



“I did not really invite you for tea.”



“The thought did occur to me, Spock. Why did you invite me here?”



“This.” And Spock leaned in to kiss him. It took a moment, but Jim's lips yielded to his. Spock opened his mouth and tasted Jim, his frustrated desire catching up with him. He ran his hand up to Jim's groin and kneaded the flesh there.



“Oh, Spock.”



Spock climbed into his lap, frantic to feel Jim's arms around him, Jim's hands on him. They necked for a few minutes more, and Spock began to fumble for Jim's zipper. The other man jerked back.



“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't you think this is going a little fast, I think we should, you know, talk or something.”



Spock looked at him with that special scolding Vulcan look. “I have attempted to speak with you, it was unsatisfactory. I chose a different method. It appears successful.” He ended his sentence by fully undoing Jim's pants and sticking his hand down them.



“Oooaah, Spock! Stop it, stop!” Jim attempted to restrain the busy hand. Spock blatantly ignored it and pushed himself up against him.



“Ohhh. We can't do this, you see that. This isn't even your body, and oh gods, you're my officer.”



“Jim?”



“Yes, Spock.”



“Be silent and engage in coitus with me.”



“Is there any point in trying to argue with you?” Jim smirked into the Vulcan's neck.



“Has there ever been?”



“No, not really.” And Jim began to kiss Spock with a furiousness that matched his own, his hands running up and down Spock's thighs under his skirt, fingers teasing under up under his shirt. Spock fumbled with the buttons on Jim's shirt by feel alone, giving a little sigh of pleasure when he finally could caress Jim's smooth skin.



Jim reciprocated by yanking Spock's top off, and handily undid his bra with one hand.



“That was most impressive,” he murmured into a round ear.



“A lifetime of practice,” and he gave his best bedroom smile, knowing exactly what it could do. Then he picked up Spock and leaned against a wall. Jim hitched up Spock's skirt and ground his cock between his legs. Spock savored the feeling of that hardness against him.



Spock ran his fingers through Jim's hair, and kneaded his shoulders. With all this flesh pressed together he could hear a whisper of his thoughts. At this one moment in time, Spock thought he had everything he had ever desired. Even things he had never imagined, right now they were his.



“Jim, Jim.” He couldn't stop himself.



“Spock.” He could listen to Jim say his name a million times, every time more interesting than when anyone else did.



Jim swung away from the wall, and laid Spock on the bed. He traced the lines of Spock's neck and collar bones, then ran his hand, fingers spread, down between his breasts, over belly, to the skirt waist. Spock arched up involuntarily.



Spock put his hands on his skirt and began to shimmy out of it. Jim grabbed the top of it, pulled it down, so hip bones were exposed and kissed a random pattern across newly exposed skin. His fingers grazed the thatch of pubic hair, then dipped lower and deeper. Spock dropped his legs open wider and Jim yanked off the hose completely.



After a few moments of frantic groping, Spock pulled himself up and pressed his forehead against Jim's.



/Hear my thoughts./



“Spock?”



/I want you./



“Oh.”



Spock grasped and pumped Jim's penis, aimed it and felt cool human arms wrap around his body.



/No matter what body this is, it is yours. If you never come to me again, I will serve you until my blood is dry./ Spock could feel his control spiraling away, Vulcan fires coming to the foreground. He pushed his open hips against Jim's groin.



“Is there anything I need to know?”



Spock allowed himself a real smile. “I don't think you will find anything too different from what you've found before.” His head tipped back, disconnecting them as he felt Jim press against him. There was little tension and he slipped in all the way, filling Spock's body.



“Ah.” Jim made a small noise.



“Yes.” Spock leaned back against the bed, gyrating on Jim's hardness. He dug his heels into a broad back, urging him deeper, faster. Jim pressed his weight onto the Vulcan, thrusting as far as he could, lifting and spreading Spock's legs farther apart.



He laid his fingers on Jim's face, letting their minds swirl together.



“Spock, Spock,” Jim chanted with his thrusts, everything beating together in the primal rhythm of fucking, the same on both their worlds. Spock felt both their breaths holding, muscles clenching, and his orgasm came suddenly. Jim followed suit and in moments their minds dropped into slumber.





Jim woke up a few hours later, slightly disoriented by the location, and his face being a few centimeters away from a sleeping Vulcan's. Said Vulcan abruptly awoke and looked at him, with a very peculiar light in his eyes.



“What time is it?”



“Eighteen forty-three, ship's time, sir.”



Jim laughed and propped himself up on his arm to get a better look. He ran a finger over one slanted eyebrow.



“You certainly are not a person to be gainsaid, Mr. Spock.”



He cocked his eyebrow wryly. “I agree.”



“What happens now?”



“I believe I will take a shower.”



“After that,” Jim said seriously.



“Breakfast, I should think.”



“What happens if they come back for you?” He pressed, giving voice to his secret fear.



He could see Spock didn't mistake the matter. “Perhaps they will not. Would it matter so?”



Jim ran his fingers across alien lips. They were so soft. “What if they don't give you back again?”



“I do not know. We will deal with it when the time comes.”



“You look the same. It's still you. I would know your hands anywhere.” Jim leaned in and kissed him. He could feel Spock rising to him.



“There's no way you could, ah, get in the family way?” Jim asked, amused.



Spock drew back with both eyebrows lifted high. “It cost my parents 500,000 credits, and took 2 and a half years to engineer me. I do not think so.”



Jim snuggled closer. “Mmm, good.”



“I believe at this point your concern would be called “shutting the barn door after the cows have escaped'?”



“You might be right. Sometimes its horses, though.” Jim conceded. He nuzzled a breast, enjoyed the feeling of a nipple hardening in his mouth. “Do you like it?”



“Specify.”



“This body, being a woman, me touching you like this.”



“I am gratified that it drew you to me. I am gratified that it pleases you. And yes, I enjoy you touching me.” Spock answered.



“I'm sorry. It wasn't like that. This,” he ran his hands down a smooth waist. “Just made it easier. More familiar. I don't know why I couldn't see it before.”



“Perhaps, I did not make it clear before.” Jim could feel heat everywhere Spock laid his hands.



“You made it clear earlier.” He nuzzled a pointed ear.



“Am I making it clear now?” Spock gave Jim a shove off, and climbed on top.



“Quite.”



“Spock?”



“Jim.”



“You wouldn't really have gone with that guy, would you have?”



Spock shot him a withering look, but Jim found he didn't care anymore when the Vulcan started inching down.







Spock let the hot water run over his head. He had left Jim sleeping on the bed, he believed their exertions had thoroughly worn him out. It had been a surprise to realize that humans did not frequently engage in very long bouts of sexual activity, though they enjoyed it more often than Vulcans typically did. Perhaps his next research would have to be about Terran sexual norms.



He ran his fingers over his sensitive body, gently washing. He enjoyed thinking about their encounter, rolling it around in his mind. Jim fucking him on the desk, on the floor, against the wall, in the tub, in his mouth, his ass, his vagina; in a variety of positions, some of them quite creative.



He turned off the water, reluctantly. In a few hours time they would have to return to the ship. A twinge of apprehension ran through him. He had been truthful when he said they did not have to continue in this fashion, though he found he very much wanted to. He pulled on a clean uniform, then went out to rouse Jim.



“Jim,” he said softly, touched his shoulder. “We must return to the ship in 2.5 hours. You must wake and bathe.”



When Jim didn't stir, he laid his hand flat and sent a little push with his mind. Jim opened his eyes abruptly. “Good morning, Spock.”



“Good morning, Jim.” Spock gestured to the cup of coffee he prepared. Jim propped up on his elbow and accepted it.



“Thanks.”



“Illogical human,” Spock chided with affection.



“So, what were you saying before I woke up?” Jim teased.



“We have 2.5 hours until we must return to the ship.”



“Exactly?”



“Negative, I am rounding for your benefit.”



“Very kind of you,” Kirk said drolly.



“Do you require food at this time?” Spock asked.



“Sit down. Relax.” Kirk patted the bed. Spock sat where he indicated. Jim's hands fiddled with the edge of Spock's skirt. Spock gave him a look.



“Let's go for breakfast then head up to the ship. How does that sound?”



“Acceptable.”



The remaining time seemed to move much faster than Spock's objective calculations, and soon they were back on the ship. Spock trailed into Jim's quarters after they transported up.



“Jim,” Spock said softly. Jim turned on his heel.



“What, Spock?”



Spock closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against Jim's. They kissed briefly, then Jim held his arms and separated them.



“I merely wished to thank you.” Spock avoided those hazel eyes staring at him, he felt an emotion he couldn't quite name welling up inside of him. He pushed it back down.



“I don't think any are required. It was my pleasure.”



“I will see you on the bridge.” Spock moved to the door. Jim sent him a questioning look, which he ignored.



“Yes. On the bridge.”



Spock went to his quarters and brought up some paperwork he needed to do. He resolutely ignored the turmoil inside. He had not been prepared for the consequences of consummating his desire with Jim. Not at all. The words popped up unbidden for what he was feeling: jealous, possessive, covetous. He wanted to hide Jim from all prying eyes, own him, keep him near. Now was a poor time for his Vulcan heart to assert itself. These were feelings a human was not likely to find endearing. He abandoned the paperwork, and sat to meditate.







The first day off the starbase involved testing the various systems that Engineering had repaired. Spock kept himself busy by working on the computers in the main lab. He sent a replacement to the bridge. It had not gone unnoticed by the captain.



Bones sidled up next to Kirk in his command chair.



“What's Phiansabai doing on Science? Where's Spock?” he asked gruffly.



The captain gave a little shrug. “Working in CS. Something to do with the modifications made at the starbase.”



“Hmm. Anyway, you got a minute?”



“Sure. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn.” He walked to the lift, and McCoy followed. They went to the briefing room.



“So, Doctor. What's on your mind?”



“Where were you last night?” Bones didn't mince.



“I don't see how that's any of your concern, Doctor.”



“Oh yeah? We'll we have been back on the ship for 7 hours and I've already heard Spock is wound tighter than when he left. And you know, I just seem to notice a correlation between you and his moods. Why ever could that be?”



“You are overstepping, I suggest you stop.”



“Dammit, Jim! You just jumped right in! Spock gives you the eye, and bang! One more notch for the illustrious T-for-Tomcat. This time a Vulcan!”



Kirk looked about as mad as McCoy had ever seen him. “Be quiet. That is not what happened.”



“You just don't think, Jim. This isn't some girl you can give the kiss off to. Jesus. It's Spock! He, she, whatever, is a Vulcan. Didn't the Koon-ut-kalifee give you a damn clue!”



Kirk stood breathing heavily, jaw clenched.



“I realize that Bones. What am I supposed to do now?”



“Are you sorry?” the doctor asked mildly.



“No. No, I'm not. That being said, your concerns are not falling on deaf ears.” Kirk raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response to his query.



“Dammit, I don't know. I suppose go talk to him, her. That's so confusing. Anyway. What if he changes back, Jim? Are you prepared for that?”



Kirk looked intently at the wall. “I don't know.”



“Hell. I know he makes you happy. I never saw a woman put the same look on your face that Spock does. For what it's worth.” McCoy crossed his arms across his chest, and shifted his weight around.



“I'll deal with it when the time comes.”



“Well, no shit, Jim!”



Kirk gave him a dirty look. “I'll see you later.”





The captain walked down to the main computer labs. They were empty except for Spock, who sat at a terminal working very quickly. Jim indulged himself for a moment by watching the other work. It was an impressive sight. Spock often ran several screens at once, and typed with a rapidity that far exceeded a human capacity. However, he only worked like that during emergencies or when there were few others around. Jim wondered where he had picked that up from. Were the cadets at Academy so unkind to one of the few aliens in their midst?



Kirk walked closer, close enough that customarily Spock would have somehow acknowledged his presence. Uh-oh. He honestly couldn't fathom why the Vulcan would be upset. It had been a mind blowingly hot night with a congenial brunch before beaming up. He would not have characterized it as a bad first date.



He put his hand on the thin shoulder, let his fingers caress the exposed nape, travel down the front a little.



“Why are you hiding down here?”



Spock turned on his stool. “I am not hiding. I am verifying that all the newly replaced parts are properly interfacing with the computer.”



“I see. When did you plan to be done?”



“Is there a time you wished me to be done?”



“How does now grab you?”



Spock cocked his head, “Grab me, sir?”



Kirk stood very closely, leaning over the seated Vulcan. “Mmm-hmm, grab you. It's an Earth expression. In this context meaning 'like.'”



“I was capable of inferring as much. It 'grabs me' just fine. Although technically we have 10 minutes and 34 seconds left of our shift.”



“Captain's prerogative, Mr. Spock.”



Jim had to step away if he was going to talk properly with Spock. Just standing that close to him did all sorts of crazy things to his body. Things that would distract him from the task at hand.



“I have heard that you have been less than your sociable self today.” Either he would goad Spock out of his shell, or get the cold shoulder.



He heard Spock take a breath, then watched him square his shoulders. A decent tell that he was considering some form of truth bending.



“Forgive me, I find my control is weaker than I had anticipated.” Jim didn't really like the sound of that.



“Will you manage? I generally need my first officer on the bridge.”



“Yes.” Soft, and raspy.



“I'm not upset.” Jim added. Spock nodded in reaction, but seemed blank.



“Stop doing that.” Spock pulled an indignant face, but didn't speak. Jim continued.



“I realize that all of this must be very overwhelming. Honestly, I can't really comprehend what it would be like to be going through this kind of emotional growth at this point in life, but a few ground rules. Don't not tell me what is going on. If you are upset, tell me. Regardless of how this all plays out.”



“Very well.”



Jim reached out, and caressed the austere face. Spock closed his eyes, dark lashes striking against a pale cheek. He could feel coiled tension.



“You arouse strong feelings in me, Jim. I have not felt anything comparable. I am sorry.”



“Spock, I think that's part of it. At least for us humans.”



“Yes, but these are not human feelings.” Spock opened his eyes and looked up. The intensity was frightening, overwhelming. Maybe this had been a terrible idea.



“Spock, I care for you a great deal. You know this, but the Enterprise comes first. Always. Which means I need you to keep it together.”



“I understand.”



He put his hands on both of the bony shoulders, let his thumbs idle along the jaw. “I know you understand. Now I want you to ratchet down a little, and enjoy yourself. What's the point otherwise? Let's go get some food, relax.” He gave Spock an all better smile, and he relaxed when he felt some tension release under his hands.



“I am not hungry, Jim.” Spock said.



“Oh, well. We could play chess?” Jim said weakly.



“I must clarify. I am not hungry for food.”



“Oh.” Comprehension dawned.



“Ostensibly it would be relaxing.”



First Spock is wound so tight he's about to explode, now he's ready to ride me until my dick breaks off, Jim thought. He and Spock made light speed to the turbolift. The ride seemed interminable as Spock ran his fingers up and down Jim's fly. It was a mercifully short walk between the lift and Jim's quarters.



The moment the door shut, Spock was tugging down his pants and pulling out his cock, sucking it hard. Jim enjoyed it for a moment before prizing the Vulcan off.



“Easy, Spock. I only have so much to go around, you know?”



The Vulcan's response was pulling his own uniform off, and was standing in underpants and nylons, topless. “I would have thought you capable of more, based on the rumors.” A little challenge.



“I think I have enough, you certainly thought so last night.” He pulled the nubile body to him, running his tongue across the space where breast met rib. Slid his hand into blue Starfleet panties. Spock made a sound into his neck, and bit there.



Jim kept his hand in there, stroking, enjoying the little wriggle it brought out of Spock. Then dipped his finger in, playing with the wetness. He liked that wetness, different from a human's. More viscous, oilier. He pulled his fingers out, brought them to his lips and tasted, inhaled.



“What do you want?” he murmured into dark hair.



In a low tone Spock replied, “Whatever you desire.”



Jim kept his hands moving across Spock's body while talking. “Oh no, you're going to have to tell me what you want.”



“I want your mind and your body.”



“Be more specific, I want you to articulate.”



Spock squirmed away and began to strip the remainder of his clothes. “I see. It is arousing to you if I speak that way?”



“Mmm, quite.”



Spock pulled off his boots, then sat on the bed. He leaned back and spread his legs and touched himself.



“I want you to meld with me.”



Jim stepped closer, dropping his clothes along the way, then climbed up over the Vulcan. Spock grabbed his penis, positioned it against himself. Spock whispered against Jim's ear, “I want you inside of me.”



Jim pushed in, felt Spock rock his hips so he could go deeper. They rolled over, and Jim urged Spock on top. Jim watched Spock buck and move, impossibly felt his dick get harder.



Then Spock ran his fingers through his hair and Jim sensed their minds brushing against each other, getting closer with every second. It reminded him of when he was young and sex was new. Two teenagers groping in the back of a flitter, feeling each other's bodies through their clothes, waiting until the time came when one of them was bold enough to take the next step.



Finally, Spock's fingers landed on his meld points and it was like water being poured over his head, Spock rushing in.



“Ahhh.”



As furious as they had been last night, now they were slow and sensual. Jim enjoyed the sense of Spock in him, around him, and could feel the tickles of Spock taking pleasure. Through the meld he could feel Spock's affection and desire, Vulcan hot, turning his own into ashes. But here it didn't frighten him, it seemed comprehensible, natural.



Jim could feel Spock's muscles tightening spasmodically throughout his body, and in his head felt the tremulous build up. The tension transmuted into his own body, and kept resonating between minds, ringing and ringing until they both came and crashed out of the meld.



Spock writhed away on the small bed and covered his face with his hands, made a pained noise.



“Jesus, Spock. That was incredible.” He reached for him, watched him shy from his touch.



“Are you okay?” Shit. This probably wasn't good. Spock looked uncomfortable, holding himself away from Jim.



“I do not understand. I feel... I do not know.”



“Could it be something with this body? I mean, you've had sex before, did this happen?” Jim questioned.



“I have had sex before, but this did not happen. However, I did not have strong feelings for any of my previous partners. Regardless, I will be fine.” Spock sat up, subdued and more relaxed. After a beat he propped his head on Jim's shoulder. Jim slipped his arm around and supported him.



“Maybe we should stop sleeping together?” Jim offered hesitantly.



“No. I do not desire that.”



“Spock, something is going on here that isn't normal. You are usually calm and collected, now you're on edge constantly.”



“It has only been two days, perhaps I need time to adjust to a new level of intimacy.”



“Maybe. I hope so. I could get used to this.” Jim stroked Spock's hair gently.



Spock sat up fully, and grabbed his uniform. “I must meditate. I believe there is a fundamental disconnect between my mind and my body. I did not notice it before. Our mind-linked sexual activities have now highlighted it.”



“Yess...” Jim said, wheels turning. “I see. The aliens changed your body, but possibly they didn't understand how closely integrated mind/body functioning is in Vulcans.”



“They were able to replicate the shallower levels of mind integration, but were unable to mimic the deeper aspects triggered by active telepathy?” Spock hypothesized.



“But why?” Jim asked aloud.



“Perhaps this was only supposed to be short term?” Spock hypothesized. “However, I still must meditate and see if I can partially ameliorate the situation.”



Jim quickly stood and pulled Spock in for a kiss. “Good night, Mr. Spock. Sleep tight, don't let the aliens take you to an alternate dimension.” A little snake of dread sat low in his gut.



Spock stroked Jim's bare shoulder, then kissed the place where a perfect nerve pinch would land. “I shall endeavor to do so.” He slipped away and left.



Jim ran his fingers through his hair, and tried to relax. In the end decided on one of Bones' little red pills.







Spock meditated, and some of the body confusion dissipated. He changed into pajamas and laid down in bed. He closed his eyes and went into perfect Vulcan sleep waves. It seemed like no time had passed when he open his eyes to a blank whiteness.



Silence. Overwhelming silence. He looked around. Everything seemed foggy and bright, he could make out vague elements- machines and walls. He saw no beings.



/SPOCK/ He felt alien thoughts rush through his mind, like a cross current between two open windows in a room.



/THIS TIME YOU ARE CONSCIOUS/



“Yes.”



/THIS WAS NOT INTENDED. WE WILL NOT HARM YOU/



It wasn't words in his mind, like with the universal translator implants, but intention and idea directly placed in his brain.



“Where is this place?” He felt calm, artificially so.



/YOU WERE CORRECT. WE COME FROM ANOTHER DIMENSION. WE HAVE MUCH CURIOUSITY ABOUT YOU AND YOUR BODIES/



“You do not have bodies.”



/THEY ARE NOT LIKE YOURS. YOU ARE IN A CONTAINMENT AREA. YOU CANNOT EXIST OUTSIDE OF IT HERE./



Spock could not control his gasp. He felt a flood of knowledge, almost more than he could tolerate. The aliens, more different than he could even conceptualize or comprehend. But benevolent, and delightfully curious. They wanted to understand these binary genders, these four limbed bodies and how they interacted.



/YOUR GENOME WAS WELL ORDERED AND EASILY ALTERABLE. YOUR MIND UNDERSTANDABLE./



Further thoughts poured in, their otherness scraping inside his head. His chromosomes contained engineering markers on them, remaining from his conception in a lab on his homeworld. And his Vulcan mind, with its highly ordered, mathematic precision was something they could understand and learn from.



/WE WILL CHANGE YOU BACK NOW. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PARTICIPATION. PREPARE YOURSELF./



“You are welcome. Please, tell me more of your universe. How do you travel through space fabric? How could you so precisely alter my genome and with such rapidity?” There were so many questions.



/WE MUST CHANGE YOU. YOU CAN NO LONGER REMAIN IN THIS STATE. YOU CANNOT REMAIN HERE. PREPARE YOURSELF./



He felt a vibration, seemingly cellular in its origin. His vision blurred, and intense heat swept through his body. All his muscles began to spasm. His spine bowed and his muscles became rigid.



“No. There is much we can learn from each other. Do not send me back yet!”



He could tell in his mind that the aliens heard him, but were unresponsive and indifferent. The sensations intensified, bordering on pain. Added to that was the feeling of going through thick gel, electric and suffocating.



“No!” His mind rebelled at being used in such a way without any knowledge of what was gained. However, the aliens cared not, and he could feel the white lab disappearing.



Suddenly, he slammed on his knees and vomited ferociously. He swiped the gel out of his nose and mouth, finally getting a big, sucking breath. Blinking rapidly, he looked around.



“Good heavens, Spock. What the?” Ah yes, Dr. McCoy, how fortuitous, Spock thought.



The doctor knelt down, and Spock could feel the human's thoughts racing in his unshielded mind. He shrugged away from his touch, already too disoriented to endure more alien thoughts. A blanket was draped over his shoulders.



“Dr. McCoy.”



“Spock, you're you again! Hot damn.” The whirring of a Feinberger. “Good as new, Spock.”



“Yes. I suspected as much.” His voice felt gravely, his throat raw. “My abductors indicated their intention.”



“Let's get you to sickbay.” McCoy's arms around his shoulders, pulling his weight up.



“Negative. I will go to my quarters. I assure you I am well.”



“What the hell happened? How do you know you're okay?” McCoy said, with a distinct hint of grouchiness.



“Doctor. I am far too tired to engage in this. Simply take my word that I am well acquainted with my body and that I am fine. My primary concern at this moment is rest.” Not to mention his dignity was tired too, as he sat huddled on Bones' floor in pajamas and sick.



“Well, if you won't listen to me, let me get Jim.” McCoy fussed.



“Let Jim sleep.”



“Fine, stubborn Vulcan. I'll get ya a uniform at least. Can't have you wandering about like that.” Bones moved to the wall com, and a few minutes later a yeoman dropped of the clothes. Spock pulled on his new clothes, ignoring all the aches, pains, and the strangeness of his old body again.



“Alright, Spock. Get your rest,” the doctor conceded. “But I will see you tomorrow. You seemed fine after the first transformation.”



“Yes, I believe it was the transportation that has left me feeling this way. Good night, doctor.”



“'Night, Spock.” Finally, he was rid of the well intentioned doctor and in moments was in his quarters.

He required no meditation to fall asleep this time.







Jim sat in a chair, next to the bed where Spock slept. Shortly after the start of alpha shift, Bones had come and briefed him about his night visitor.



Ah, my friend, where do we stand now? He let his fingers lightly trail down Spock's arm.



“Jim.”



“How're you feeling?” He didn't remove his hand.



“It was incredible, Jim. Another dimension, alien beings with amazing minds, science, technology. I did not want to return.” Spock uncurled slightly and propped himself up on his arms.



Jim smiled crookedly. “That's my Spock. Ever curious.” Now his fingers strayed to the short hair at Spock's temple. “You seem a little disappointed, if I may be so bold as to suggest a feeling.”



“You may. I am disappointed. I wished to understand their intention and I did not have the time. I understood why they chose me, but little beyond that. If they could transport me at will between their universe and ours, why not simply find a female Vulcan to compare with? Why change me?”



“I don't know, Spock. You said yourself that beings with those capabilities might well be beyond our understanding.”



“I did.” Spock sighed a discreet sigh. “I would prefer it were not so. There was much to learn from them.”



“Are you going to get up anytime soon?”



“I am not required anywhere until beta shift, I see no reason to hurry.”



“Hmm. Lazy Vulcan. That's a new one.” Jim bantered.



Spock looked at him hard, it made him squirm just a little.



“Why are you here?” he asked levelly.



“Where else should I be?” Jim evaded.



“Will things change now?” Spock, never one to let things lie, not even for one morning. Jim thought about it, but had no new insight different from all the other times he thought about it.



“I don't know, Spock.”



“Am I so different now?”



“No,” Jim whispered. “You aren't.”



“My feelings for you are unchanged, but we need not continue this.”



“I don't think that's what I want.”



Spock moved over on the bed, making an obvious space. Jim swallowed, feeling more uncertain than he had in a long time. Was he afraid? Of what? He toed of his boots, and pulled at the closure of his green shirt. He liked the veiled interest on the Vulcan's face.



Spock lifted the edge of the blanket up in welcome, and he slid in, warmth surrounding him. Their knees knocked together as they lay face to face.



“You have very bony knees, Mr. Spock.”



Spock's lip twitched but he didn't answer. Under the blanket, Jim felt a hand move towards him tentatively. He closed his eyes, and just felt for a moment. Felt Spock's clever hand move up his flank, and around his back. Felt his clever fingers toy with the waist of his pants. His breath sped up when Spock pulled on the top clasp of his trousers. Even with his eyes closed, he knew the look on Spock's face.



He exhaled sharply when his penis was squeezed knowingly, and let out a small, strangled noise when Spock started stroking. Neither of them said anything, and Jim kept his eyes held shut. They both knew it was a test, to prove if this could work.



Jim grabbed Spock's upper arm, felt the smooth interplay of muscles under skin. Sweat broke out on his forehead from pleasure and heat. Soon, soon. And...there. Blindly, he searched for lips and kissed, tasted alien saliva. He shuddered, finished, slightly tormented by Spock's post orgasmic tugs.



“Mmm. Stop!” Jim opened one eye.



Spock stroked once more, making his whole body dance. He opened his other eye, and couldn't stop his lips from curling as he watched the Vulcan take a dainty lick from his hand.



“You don't have to eat it.”



Philosophically Spock asked, “Have you tasted your own semen?”



“Yes. I think it's one of those things that everyone has done once.”



“It is not unpleasant.”



Jim handed Spock a tissue from off the wall shelf. Spock wiped his hand up, but still inspected the substance.



“What about..”



“Vulcan semen? I find the human aversion to proper terminology amusing.”



“You don't know what I was going to say.”



“No, that is true. However, I can think of several ways you can investigate the matter for yourself.”



“Why, Spock. Are you making innuendo?” Jim retorted.



“I believe I am.” Spock took Jim's hand, and started moving it. Jim let his hand wrap around the hardness he found there, and followed the rhythm Spock set. He watched with interest as Spock panted and writhed.



“I want to see you come, Mr. Spock.” he said in a voice somewhere between command and bedroom.



“Aye aye, sir.” And with a small groan, obliged.



Jim laughed, and watch Spock melt into languor.



“Very nice, two points for dirty talk involving the service.” Jim stuck out the tip of his tongue lecherously, and peered at his hand. “Where is it?”



“It is microscopic. It becomes motile when it contacts vaginal discharge,” Spock commented absently, with his eyes closed.



“Convenient.”



“Undeniably, however full Vulcans rarely masturbate, so its usefulness might be limited.”



“What about half Vulcans?”



“Occasionally, under certain types of duress.”



“Such as?” Jim was very much enjoying Spock's post-coital chattiness.



“Attractive humans forgetting to put on shirts when they use the commlink.” Jim couldn't restrain a laugh.



Using his powers of intuition, he had to ask. “Spock, you wouldn't be sublimating your dissatisfaction over your pan-dimensional visitors through sexual activity? Not that I am discouraging you, in any way shape or form.”



“Everyone has to have a way to deal with their emotions, has not Dr. McCoy said?” Spock replied in total innocence.



“Well, the next time you are let down, feel free to come and blow me.”



“I shall remember that. Perhaps I will attempt to be “let down” more often.” It amused Jim when Spock used his verbal quotation marks.



Jim surveyed the scene. His clothes in a pile next to the bed, Spock's already disappeared into the laundry. Them sitting leg to leg in this tiny bed, leaning against the wall. He liked it very much. Inside, he felt a knot loosen. How long had it been since he felt this way with someone, had let himself be touched inside?



“I'm going to get a cup of coffee, would you like one?” He could tell his face was involuntarily revealing himself. He didn't try to stop.



“Yes, Jim. I would.”



He stood up and zipped his pants. He turned to look at Spock and felt his heart speed up just a beat. Why shouldn't it? After all, it wasn't everyday a person realized they were in love.
You must login (register) to review.