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Posted with the permission of the original author" Inspired by Never say never - The Fray http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJIHvZPgtb0 ***

Jim lay back, his head on Spock’s shoulder, enjoying the simple rise and fall of his mate’s chest as he breathed softly. He could feel the flutter of his Vulcan’s heart against his side, and wondered again with awe how he of all people had ended up bonded to this magnificent being.

“Don’t let me go, Spock,” he said softly, never wanting this peaceful moment to end.

“Hmmm?” Spock was deeply engrossed in reading some gripping scientific journal or other. An arm slipped around his neck, over his shoulder, crossing his chest, a possessive but also endearingly tender movement.

Jim didn’t repeat what he said, but smiled to himself. His smile faltered a little as he thought back over the past few weeks.

Over the course of the past year they’d been bonded, their relationship hadn’t always been this harmonious and peaceful. In fact, it was mostly hard work; for all that they shared a bond, Spock’s Vulcan-trained reactions and his lack of emotional intelligence made for frequent conflict. No, he corrected himself. Spock wasn’t the only one with baggage. Jim’s own fears and insecurities, his swiftness to jump in where angels feared to tread, meant that sometimes his reactions to Spock’s inadvertent actions were disproportionate.

He sighed.

There were things they didn’t talk about. Well, they had talked about them, and had to talk about them from time to time. The process of bonding had demanded that they’d been completely open with each other, their very beings bare as their lives intertwined to form one single strand. So no, there were no nasty secrets lurking in well-concealed mental closets. But there were things that were… painful or distasteful. Like Spock’s biology. Like Jim’s impulsiveness. Like Spock’s overprotectiveness. Like Jim’s thoughtless but well-meaning assumptions about courses of action that involved his bondmate.

Sometimes the arguments were so vitriolic and hurtful Jim wondered whether there was any coming back for them. Well, of course there had to be: the bond they shared could not be dissolved or undone, even if they’d wanted to. In some ways they had no choice but to find a way forward together, a way to accommodate each other’s idiosyncracies.

Absently, Jim reached up a hand and began to stroke the back of the slim green-tinged ivory pale Vulcan fingers on his breast. He had the odd image slip into his mind of prisms coming together and moving apart, always in motion. It was abstract, but apt. Back before they’d been married the celebrant had insisted they do some preparation. Jim recalled the exhortation to grow together, but also the realism of being told that there would be times when they grew tangentially. And they’d both committed then – when it seemed so easy – to pulling together whenever they grew apart.

Yes, it was hard work. But it was worth it. Their love was worth far more than romantic notions or moments of ecstatic, mystical union. Jim had a sense they were building something far more significant, like a great… edifice? No, that wasn’t the right idea because edifices tend to be set in stone, immovable and fixed. What they were building or fashioning was something more organic than that, but no less permanent. Something that was forever on the edge of his awareness. He wished he could see the end result. Well, maybe not the end result because that would imply fixedness and finality, where this was… fluid. The bigger picture, perhaps.

His heart surged again as he thought about their relationship, and along with it pride in what they were making together, and gratitude to Spock for being part of it and giving him so much. Spock: faithful guardian, faithful friend and loyal officer, the one who steadied him when he felt weak, who always had his back whether he was facing down Klingons or irate Starfleet Admirals. Spock: whose emotions ran deep, and whose love for Jim was overpowering, and unmade him every time it washed over him. Steady and true and constant. In the end it was the surety of what he knew he meant to Spock, which ensured a desire to reconcile when things weren’t good between them.

Spock. Jim wondered again at Spock choosing him, reverence for this dear being filling him. It wasn’t a one way street by any means. Spock was the centre of Jim’s world, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see Spock safe, secure, protected, and thriving. It wasn’t as though Jim were some sort of weakling Spock had to prop up. Oh, no. While Jim rarely felt truly worthy of having the attention of a Vulcan focussed on him, their relationship was balanced, mutual in every sense, as far as they could make it given their differences.

He sighed again and snuggled onto his side, closer to his beloved. Jim listened to the sound of Spock’s breath, steady and reassuring, rushing into and out of his lungs, his ear pressed now to Spock’s chest. He ran one hand up over the soft fur and tangled his fingers in it right over Spock’s pectoral muscle. It wasn’t intended to be an arousing touch, just one of close contentment.

“Don’t let me go, Spock,” he said again.

There was the sound of the PADD being clicked off and laid on the bedside table. The hand that had held it came to rest on his head, gently massaging.

“Are you in some fear that I would let go of you?”

Jim considered this for a minute. “Not really. But… it’s safe here. Being held,” he said, just a little shy to admit something so vulnerable.

Spock rolled him over and dragged his beloved so that Jim was lying sprawled right on top of Spock. Jim could feel the wakening hardness of his love against his thigh. Spock’s hands cupped the bronzed skin of Jim’s face, and the dark orbs looked into bright cerulean for a moment before kissing him gently and tenderly on the lips.

“Listen to me, Jim,” the Vulcan said, pushing him back from the kiss, still holding the beloved face, his thumbs tracing circles on the soft skin of Jim’s cheeks. “I will never let you go. I will hold you, will never cease to reach out to you. And should you choose to leave, know that I will never let go of you here,” drew Jim’s fingers to rest over his own psi-points, releasing a tingle which made Jim shiver with the first stirrings of yearning, “or here,” Spock took one of Jim’s hands and laid it over his heart where it thrummed low in his side.

Jim dropped his head to the Vulcan’s chest again, bonelessly allowing himself to drape the lithe body beneath him. Partly aroused as they were, it was tempting simply to succumb to sleep. He threaded his arms to embrace his mate.

As though he could sense Jim’s doubt, Spock broke the silence. “Do you require proof of my claim?”

Jim shuddered… proof and claim, indeed. He pushed himself up, one hand either side of Spock’s torso, and looked down at his mate, driving his hips down into Spock’s. Spock grunted and his eyes darkened slightly.

“Hmmm?” Jim inflected saucily. “Been a while since you… proved your… claim, adun.”

He loved the feral look that stirred in the depths of Spock’s eyes. There were few things like the ancient Vulcan warrior which lurked somewhere deeply suppressed in Spock’s psyche.

“I believe you are in error, my mate,” the Vulcan growled. “I have demonstrably proved my claim 774.25 times since our bonding.”

“I’d dispute that.”

“Oh?” One dark satin brow leapt into Spock’s bangs playfully. “I assure you, my memory is accurate, and my calculations – ”

“ – lack defined parameters. See, it depends on what you mean by ‘proving [your] claim’. I would suggest that certain actions of claim-proving should be excluded by virtue of the fact that they do not necessarily involve your direct activity. Given the fact that I wake you most mornings with a blow job, approximately 300 of those times you claim you were proving a claim on or in my person, must be excluded.”

Spock’s forehead furrowed, both eyebrows drawing together.

“Further, we need to exclude those encounters in which I have claimed you – ahem, pardon me, proved my claim. That would account for a further 75 times.

“Add to this the mutual masturbation – which if anything is mere mutual satisfaction, and therefore the proving of something which is not a claim… That’s another,” he pretended to count on his fingers, “325.25 times, by my calculations.”

Spock opened his mouth to protest, only to be silenced by a human finger as it traced his lips.

“That leaves only 74 times you have attempted to ‘prove your claim’ that you will never let me go. From this I conclude that you have some way to go towards demonstrating beyond shadow of a doubt your intention to ‘have and to hold’ and never let me go.”

As he’d been speaking, Jim had felt Spock’s growing arousal curling in his own loins. Spock abruptly rolled them both over, so that Jim was trapped beneath him. Jim’s breath sped up, his heart thumping.

“Tell me then, telsu, what would you consider demonstrable proof of my claim?”

Breathless, Jim huffed, “This… is a good start.”

Spock tightened his grip, allowing his heavier body mass to sink down on his mate. Jim gasped, his penis stiffening further. He gasped again as Spock drew both his wrists over his head and held them still with one hand.

“That’s – yes! – That too.”

“What about this?” Spock’s tongue licked a long stripe up from Jim’s shoulder, up over his ear. Jim shuddered beneath the heavy weight.

“Y-yes,” Jim hissed.

“And this?” Spock latched onto the juncture between Jim’s shoulder and neck, that place that ordinarily had him bucking and shivering and writhing with need. Only this time he couldn’t because he was pinned. Spock sucked and nibbled, and even bit down with his teeth, causing Jim to cry out.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Nnnnnn,” Jim made a negative but needy sound, spurring the Vulcan on, stoking his passion. Spock started massaging with his free hand the significant energy centres in Jim’s face, neck and chest. He knew them all, and knew what power they had. It wasn’t long before the human was boneless, moaning and sighing, demobilised, unable to do more than sound his need, unable even to say what he needed.

The human keened and thrashed as Spock took one nipple in his mouth, suckling the tender nub until it puckered and hardened and became oh so sensitive. He let it go with a pop, and then blew gently over the damp skin. Jim’s eyes were swimming in tears now. But still the loving torture continued: Spock licked another stripe, this time from Jim’s navel up, between his pecs, up and over his adam’s apple to the point of his chin. He traced around his lover’s mouth, which opened and closed, searching for the fulfilment of those soft Vulcan lips to close over them and suck yet more marrow and fatness from the human’s soul. Those lips’ searching was denied, the pointed tongue lapping evasively, never where Jim wanted it to be.

Spock shifted, giving the wrists anchored on the pillows behind Jim a solid push to indicate they had to stay there, before sliding down the human to give the attention to his navel for which the human’s mouth had searched. He sucked hard, licked and lapped and nipped all around the orifice, and darted his tongue into the hollow.

Jim was sobbing now, begging, his cock stiff and weeping and flat against his belly. The Vulcan looked up at his debauched mate, with an almost evil glint of satisfaction in his sable eyes before proceeding to lick and suck up the human’s juices – his mouth nuzzling everywhere except that needful place. Now that Spock had shifted, Jim reflexively bent his knees, creating a hollow for the Vulcan to lie in.

But not for long. Spock pushed himself up to kneel between Jim’s knees, and reached forward, rubbing his hands up and down the human’s torso. From Jim’s mouth came a litany of, “Spock! Oh, god, yes! Spock, please! Please, ashaya, please!” and other unintelligible sounds the Vulcan couldn’t make out. Through their link, Spock could feel the fire as his hands shifted over the ridged muscles of Jim’s body. Truly, his mate was a work of art, beautiful, desirable. And like this, broken and sobbing from Spock’s tender assault? He ruthlessly pressed down his own desire; he couldn’t let go, not yet, not until he was ready to demonstrably prove his claim.

Spock reached over to the top drawer of the bedside table, removing the spiced oil, opened it and scooped some out with his fingers. Returning his attention to his mate, he gently pushed his knees closer to his chest and ran a finger down the underside of the downy balls, over his perineum, and began to circle the clenching muscle around that delightful opening.

The smell of the oil and the tingle of the fingers touching him in that sensitive place had Jim moaning again. Spock gently pushed one finger in, playing with the muscle, pushing deeper, slowly and torturously deeper until –

Ah! Jim’s feet pressed down into the mattress and his hips bucked before Spock could still him, throwing an arm over the man’s hips. He persisted, pressing a second and then a third finger into the taught moisture, groaning himself at the sensation. The urge to claim was building again.

Spock rose up on his knees, hooking the human’s legs up around his neck – and paused.

“What? Spock?” Disoriented, Jim looked up in confusion.

“What do I need to do in order to prove my claim?”

“Spock!” Jim protested. “Do it! Do it! Oh, do it now!”

“What would you like me to do?”

“Claim me! Take me, oh, take me, Spock! Plunge – ”

On the last word, Spock slid himself all the way to the hilt into the willing and pliant flesh, groaning in satisfaction as Jim screamed his pleasure: “YES!” White stars flickered on the underside of his eyelids as he clenched them tightly; Spock’s length probed that bunch of nerves, and Jim’s cock jumped in agony.

Spock stayed still. Jim began to whimper with need. Taking pity on his mate, Spock sat back on his haunches, dropping the human’s legs, and drawing him up to sit on Spock’s knees, fully impaled. Jim wrapped his arms desperately around Spock’s neck, and began to rock, pressing his swollen cock into Spock’s stomach.

“C-c-c-claim… claim me, Spock.”

At that, Spock lost all control, thrusting powerfully up into the tight channel that surrounded his flesh. Jim met every thrust with his own passion. Just before the world went supernova, Spock reached a hand from behind his mate, linking their minds as they ascended together into bliss. “Mine!” Spock shouted as he poured his essence into the depths of his lover. “Mine,” he said again as the aftershocks rattled through both of them. “Mine,” he repeated a third time as he collapsed forward, the human beneath him again, both utterly boneless. Jim was unresponsive, breathing heavily. It was several minutes before the bright blue eyes opened again. Spock stayed where he was, his cock still buried in Jim’s body.

“I claim thee again, James Kirk. Is that sufficient proof?” He wrapped his arms around the human and buried his head in Jim’s neck.

“I love you, Spock. I… love you,” Jim murmured, pausing for a moment before he said more loudly: “Yes. That’s 75 times. But I have to say, I think that’s one of the more conclusive… claimings.” He released a great breath.

The Vulcan purred in satisfaction and contentment. “You are a most infuriating mate.” Would that he could remain buried in this man permanently. Reluctantly, he slipped free, went to the bathroom, and brought back a damp towel to clean them both. After wiping them both, Spock disposed of the damp towel down the laundry chute, and returned to the bed, wrapping himself around the human.

“I will never let you go, James Kirk. I have proven my claim. Do you accept this truth?”

Jim yawned. “Good. I never doubted it. But it doesn’t stop me saying it: don’t let me go, Spock.”

“Illogical human.”

“Yeah,” came the soft reply, “but you love me.”

That was a claim that didn’t require any further proof than Spock already had given. And it was mutual.

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