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His hand tightened around the shaft of his cock, squeezing tighter and tighter.

"Just don't stop," Kirk whispered to himself, teeth gritted. Trying to force the sensation to capture his mind, the part of him that hovered, distant and unmoved.

He rifled his brain for erotic images, tried an Orion slave girl, his best raw sex fantasy. But he could not keep the image whole. Her anatomy floated around in his head, eluding his grasp, refusing to take on the elusive flesh of fantasy.

And the green skin brought Spock to mind, no matter how different the pigmentation.

There was the Andorian he'd picked up on Wrigley's this shore leave. Her skin had been blue, exquisite blue.

Just the color of Spock's shirt.

He stopped, giving his abused cock a rest.

It was a mistake to think about that....

You even came to beam me down, Spock. Was it to wish me luck?

She was everything he enjoyed in chance encounters. Pretty, and voluptuous, and playful.... He'd told himself he wanted to be with a woman.

One of the prettiest cunts he's ever seen. The white hair bushy and soft as a baby tribble. Soft blue lips opening into pink. A goddamned candy box.

She'd given him smug little kisses with it, all over his face, his body, teasing along his cock.

He'd responded, if somewhat half-heartedly.

Then she's perched on his hips, straddled him like he straddled Spock when he finally....

And she'd asked what he wanted.

His hands had moved, almost of themselves, sliding over her hips, caressing her ass, seeking the second tight orifice she had to offer him. Wanting to take her that way, to remind himself, all along his nerves, just what Spock felt taking him. How it would feel taking Spock.

But he hadn't. He'd gotten on top of her and buried himself in her juicy little tribble cunt. Warm and wet and very woman. And he'd lost himself anyway....

A strange fantasy that had been. He was Spock, and she was the appropriate Janice Lester.

He'd been good for her, his baby blue Andorian, drowning in that inner passion. She'd been hurt when he hadn't stayed to sleep with her. Rotten manners, though he'd spared her his insomnia.

Welcome to bisexuality, Captain Kirk, where gender has nothing to do with who you want. And don't the adamant heterosexuals seem a little stiff and strange from this side of the fence?

It couldn't have been any male but you....

Spock. Male was an attribute of Spock.

His cock was stiff now. It seemed so separate, demanding, insistent. Irritated with him for his stubborn refusal to provide what it wanted.

All right, he thought, all right. If that's what you want.

That fantasy took on flesh quickly enough. Remembering Spock's green flushed cock pulsing, swelling in his hand, as his own did now, hard, wet with the saliva he used to lubricate it. Then hips straddling, rising over the swollen cock, descending. His own tight virgin ass, fear tight, forcing itself down, insisting Spock take it. And Spock wanting it. Moaning, thrusting. And him hating it hating it.

Wanting it, his hand pumping, pumping.

Fingers like tight muscles squeezing. Insisting. Forcing pleasure....

The conjured flames of pon farr wreathing around him.

Then Spock's hand reaching, the meld flashing into his mind. Ecstasy beckoning....

And some dark thing rose in him again, turning it away this time too, crying out Just Fuck Yourself And Get It Over With....


He was up and stumbling into the head, fist punching the sonic equivalent of a cold shower.

He shouldn't have stopped. He was too close. He'd have his balls in knots.

What did it matter if his balls hurt, or he rubbed his cock raw. He'd been horny as hell for two weeks. He'd beat off every day like he was fourteen again. It didn't do any good. His Andorian didn't do any good. Not really. Orgasm gave fleeting physical relief, but his spirit ached with loneliness. And his body began seething all over again.

He'd tried not to think about Spock. He knew it would only mess things up. And things had been so good for awhile, over a month. They'd been quiet, guarded, but it was to protect each other, to find the right distance. There had been a gentleness, a peacefulness. Then sex had stirred in him again--and Spock had seemed cooler, more distant. At first he hadn't even been interested in sex...but he'd expected that.

It wasn't everyday you got fucked clear through to your soul.

But sex had stirred. His needs were Human, not Vulcan. And now, when he couldn't not think of Spock, he punished himself by going over and over the violence and ugliness of the beginning.

It was so wrong. So utterly wrong.

It wasn't that he was afraid of violent fantasy. Fantasy was fantasy, and he and the Orion slave girls of his mind had had some wild times together. Masturbation was a fine art that ran all the way from a good fuck to making love to yourself.

But Spock.... It was...yes, sacred. And he wasn't going to use one of the most meaningful experiences of his life to play SM games with himself. Rape his own mind of the things he treasured most....

It's only wrong because you're not letting yourself remember what it was really about. You're fucking with it, not making love. You could use some loving, James Kirk. Go back and lie down and be gentle with yourself and remember remember remember....

He stayed in the shower.

He couldn't afford to reinforce it.

He put on a robe and sat at the desk, wearily resting his head in his hands. At least his erection was gone, even if he still ached with tension. Sonics were efficient, but what he needed was to soak in a hot tub--or maybe a workout in the gym. But he wanted to be alone, needed to think....

Hell, what was there to think about. He knew what was wrong. Time was the only cure. He'd felt this miserable ache before, even if his glands hadn't plagued him so spitefully. He'd felt it after Edith, after Miramanee, after Rayna. Rayna...you were the hands of time then, weren't you Spock, easing me out of pain? He had loved each of them, and now they were dreams, dim aching dreams. Lost dreams. Impossible dreams.

As Spock was impossible.

At least for Spock he'd been a messenger of life, not death. Giving him life by taking his life, his seed, into his own body. Sweet spilling, conceiving nothing...nothing except love.

He felt a sudden sharp stab of jealousy.

Spock. Who wanted more than anything to be a Good Vulcan. And that meant a Vulcan wife, Vulcan babies if he was lucky.

Can't you just see yourself at the wedding, Kirk? The best man? Or maybe you won't be invited this time. Your presence might be considered inappropriate.

Maybe by then it won't hurt anymore.

Please please please, his mind whispered, pleaded. Please, Spock, just don't take someone who loves you less than I do. I couldn't bear it....

Tears now? A little maudlin self pity? Well, what did he expect? The tension in him was going to claim some release.

If he didn't get his feelings under control he'd have to talk to McCoy about it. He hadn't wanted to...but Spock would understand he'd had to confide in somebody. He'd probably shock poor Bones. Gentle lover-of-ladies Bones. But the Doctor would understand. He knew how much he and Spock felt for each other. After the initial surprise, Bones wouldn't expect him to justify the obvious. It would be good to have someone to talk to....

But would it help?

It would have to help.

His tension was beginning to interfere with his ability to command. And work, being on the bridge, was what he had always turned to for healing himself. He'd always been able to channel tremendous amounts of sexual and emotional energy into the Enterprise.

But the bridge meant Spock.

Today he'd had Uhura almost in tears, over nothing. He'd pulled himself together, apologized, and she'd accepted gracefully and gratefully. He'd felt Spock's eyes on him, all the way back to the command chair.

You'd think pon farr was contagious.

Three years? Would that be Spock's cycle now? Wouldn't Spock be bonded to him by what happened? How could he not be? It had been so...so ultimate. Would Spock need him, seek him out? He wouldn't be afraid this time. This time it would be...

Stop it stop it, he pleaded with himself. Are you going to wait three years, seven? Wait to be taken, when you want him yourself? You are going to have to start whacking off again, or head for the shower. Can't you learn not to think about it? Exercise a little Vulcan self control.

Kirk started when the door buzzed. It was late. He was hardly dressed for company, but maybe that's what he needed. Maybe it was Bones, and brandy, and time for a talk.



If you knew what your voice does to me. I can feel it in my blood.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?"

Aware of every movement in his gut as Spock crossed to stand on the other side of the desk. Hands behind his back, dark eyes regarding him solemnly out of the expressionless face.

"Captain, I believe you are in some distress, and that I am the cause."

He was looking in Spock's eyes and there was no doubt that they both knew exactly what they were talking about. For a moment he ducked and bobbed and wove in and out of nonexistent hiding places in his mind. Then he gave it up. It was indeed time for a talk. Past time. That Spock would bring it up at all was proof enough. It seemed important to say the right thing, the right way. But he had no idea what the right thing was. All he had was the truth.

"I seem to have fallen in love with you, Mr. Spock. I realize it makes things difficult." Some part of him found a small smile for the absurdity of it all. "If you will have patience with me, I'm sure I can work it out."

"Do you realize that we are bonded?"

"I'd considered the possibility. That you might...need me again." He looked away, wishing he hadn't confessed that thought, wish, desire.

"Captain, you do not fully understand. We are bonded to each other." Spock hesitated. "You are drawn to me...in your sexuality...as I will now be drawn to you in mine."

First prize for overlooking the obvious, Kirk. How have you managed to live so long?

No. He wasn't totally dense. He knew love when he felt it, he just hadn't probed the sexual fixation deeply enough. Why should it surprise him he wanted Spock after....

Well, breaking the bond would subdue the frustration anyway, give him room to work his way back to a less yearning form of love. And Spock would be free. He looked up at the waiting face.

"How do we break it? Do we meld?" Longing for that contact, dreading the exposure of his passion. Would Spock see everything that had been going on in his head?

"There are solutions available to us, but the meld cannot be broken, not in the sense you mean."

"I don't understand. You simply agreed to release T'Pring from the bond you had."

"I did not mate with T'Pring. Pon farr...strips the psyche. Such levels of exchange cannot be achieved outside of the condition."

"I see," he said, looking away again.

I want you want you want you, his body cried. Touch me touch me....

"I must ask your forgiveness. I should not have melded with you. My thoughts were...confused. Had I warned you, you might have successfully resisted. Your mind is quite dynamic. In essence you did succeed."

He remembered his wrath and pain, hating Spock with cold fury when that touch first sought him... and the final communion, that perfect ecstasy. A surge of passion filled him and he raised his eyes to meet Spock's. "You should have done just what you did. You know you should have!"

"If I had sufficient presence of mind to forewarn you of the consequences, you would have chosen to avoid the meld," Spock answered calmly.

Would it have frightened him that much more, that knowledge? Would he have fought more bitterly, turned on Spock with the same rage and hatred, then not gone after him when he wounded him so?

"The same thing would have happened," he said, equally calm.

Their eyes held, a moment of certain understanding.

"Perhaps," Spock conceded, looking at the desk top.

This was dangerous ground, for both of them.

"You said there were solutions available?"

"Once a bond is established, normally it is severed only by death. Since you are human, not Vulcan, I could not be certain how deeply you would be affected. It seemed wise to observe your adjustment to the situation, blocking any psychic and physical contact as well as I could. Hopefully your normal patterns of behavior would assert themselves with adequate force to reestablish a functional independence. I believe you were partially successful in this effort."

Kirk blushed, remembering Spock beaming him down to Wrigley's...into the pale blue arms of his Andorian. It was to wish him luck, then. But it had to have hurt.

"However," Spock continued, "it appears that the bond is too strong. As long as I am in such close proximity to you, you will be irrevocably drawn to me, and other encounters will not satiate you. Although the bond cannot be broken, it can be weakened, perhaps even dissipated, by time and distance, combined with the transference of psychic...and sexual...energy."

Spock had come prepared to talk about this, but Kirk could see it was difficult for him. The stony immobility betrayed him more than anything.

"This severance will be traumatizing for you, in a way it would not be for a Vulcan, but you will also have more active energy at your command to facilitate transference. We should, of course, avoid any contact over the next few years, as it would have a regressive effect...."

Never see you again? Kirk rose unsteadily to his feet, turning away. Spock's voice moving through him, the deep timbre shivering sweetly, inescapably, in his blood. The cool, even words cutting him.

"...The fact that we have melded in the past in itself reinforces the bond we created when we...were on Setarcos."

...When we made love on Setarcos. On the long skinny bed of a dead man. Time. Distance. Never see you again, is that what you're asking?

No. We can meet again, after, can't we? After...when we've both acquired our fucking surrogates.

Anger? Bitterness? You knew you were going to lose him, one way or another. Why make it harder that it has to be? Sex like that has to be a beginning or an ending. All right, it was an ending. If you don't keep ragging it out you can remember that perfection, instead of this misery. And there is still the future, after you've both....

"You say you think I can be successful in effecting a transference. Give me an estimate of your chances of establishing another bond my the time of your next pon farr."

There was an edge to Spock's voice. "That depends to a great extent on the length of my cycle, and that is an undetermined factor. It may have been foreshortened because it was previously unconsummated. Or it may stabilize at three years. My hybrid nature..."

"Would three years give you enough time?"

"Possibly." Spock looked away.

"Don't lie to me!" Where had that burst of fury come form? He thought he was under control.

"I had not intended to seem evasive. I am uncertain if I could transfer my preference to another partner in three years time. I could attempt consummation against my own desires. If I did so I could possibly succeed. I could possibly fail."

Wonderful, just wonderful.

"Your first solution, as I understand it, leaves me strung out for some undetermined amount of time, and shows great promise of getting you killed. Surely you can do better than that, Mr. Spock? There must be some other solution. After all, we're valuable to Starfleet. We're the best team they've got."

"True rapport is rare," Spock replied. "Though I am certain you would inspire great loyalty in whoever replaced me. There is, however, the second solution, that I remain on the Enterprise and serve you as bondmate."

Kirk felt his loins quiver, shooting a little jolt of fire through him. He leaned forward over the desk. He was too close to this. Too close to see his way clearly. He took a deep breath, tried to keep his voice even. "You say we're bonded. Just how much do you feel of what I'm feeling? How does it affect you?" Hoping that was obvious enough.

"I have been restless and disquieted. I have not, however, actively experienced desire. But, although we suppress such responses, Vulcans are sensual beings. I do not believe your touch would be...unpleasant to me. If you chose, we could link minds and I would experience your physical perceptions for the duration of the meld."

And fall back into your own cool mind. Your touch aroused me so. Could I accept that shadow of my own desire? Come to you again and again, use your flesh?

His body begging begging.

Could I teach you pleasure? There is a Human sexuality in you too. I know, I've seen it. Would it have to be spores that enable you to open yourself?

I want you so much. Too much.

And there's something more, Spock, isn't there. One great looming question.

"What about Vulcan? I assumed that a homosexual bond would be unacceptable."

The mask was suddenly paler, the lines etched into it more deeply.

I don't want to hurt you. It means too damn much to you.

"That is true. Vulcan is a sexually conservative culture. As reproduction is the logical reason for mating, such a relationship would be considered perverse. Although male bonding was once a tradition of the warrior class, it has been unacceptable and unpracticed, to my knowledge, for three thousand years."

A shred of comfort. Just a few years too late to be part of a noble institution.

"However," Spock continued, "the bond exists, and to deny it is equally unacceptable behavior. The virtue of the first solution is that, while the separation will initially disorient you, it will free you of a bond not of your own choosing, and one which could adversely effect your career. Regulation 72..."

"...Is archaic and unenforced. Given the diversity of sexual mores in the galaxy, Starfleet can hardly afford to be intolerant. Hell, Admiral Schraft is homosexual, and Captain Nes'Ihat. Tlos is bisexual...and Number One..."


Kirk realized Spock was distressed, not at the information, but at his indiscretion in disclosing it.

"Spock, they don't care who knows."

But you do. You do.

"Captain, under your present stress, you fail to remember that your sexual liberty has always been of great importance..."

“My fucking around...."

Take it easy. Easy. Spock is too close and your body is raging.

He had to put more distance between them. He walked to the divider. One foot, two. There was nowhere to go. Not to the door. That was a choice. Not into....

The bed looked so shamefully rumpled.

He was trembling. He could feel his nakedness, the tumescent organ rubbing, skin against fiber. He gathered the robe closer, trying to cover his groin.

You know I wouldn't need anyone else. But I'd need you to want me. I couldn't take you like some sacrificial victim.

I can't read your face tonight. What is that mask supposed to tell me? Is it there to make it obvious you don't want me? Or to hide that you do? Or not to influence me one way or the other?

"Spock, what do you want?"

"I endeavored to analyze the positive and negative aspects of each solution, to construct an equation. The aspects appeared to me to cancel each other. I could reach no logical conclusion."

My choice? Damn it, do I have to play Captain Kirk now, for us? Now, with this fire in my blood?

You love me. I know you love me.

Did you hope I would choose that love for us, Spock?

Or did you believe that if I loved you, it was an unwanted love?

Am I the unknown factor in your equation, Spock, as you are in mine?

If that's so then we're back where we started. And all I have is the truth.

He turned to face Spock, still rigid, formal.

Their eyes meeting.

Maybe I've always been a lucky gambler because I believe in fate, not chance....

Somehow it didn't matter now. That his emotions were so raw and open. That he was trembling so violently that he had to lean against the edge of the screen. That his erection was stiff, obvious, poking awkwardly at his robe. His voice seemed to float out of him, strangely calm amid the torrent of his desire, detached, undemanding in spite of his words.

"I love you. I want you. But I can't choose for you, Spock. I won't choose for you."

Their eyes holding.

The moment crystallizing around them, and the same space now contained instead of separated them.

Then Spock was kneeling before him, hands beneath the robe, gently parting it. Touch of air cool, hands hot on his thighs. The dark voice calm, quiet, but so deep deep, shivering through his veins...

"Come in my mouth," Spock said.

Hot, wet touch of open lips.

His cock leaping, spurting....

He cried out, realizing he was coming even as Spock's mouth took him.

"No!" he cried, but his hands flew to Spock's head, clutching his face close against him, spilling his sperm deep in his throat. Spock's arms sliding around him, supporting him as his ejaculation convulsed his whole body, lifted, shattered it, dropped it. His knees gave way. Spock's mouth released him so that his arms could scoop Kirk up, carry him gently to the bed and lay him down.

Kirk curled into a ball, his face to the wall.

"I didn't mean to do that," he whispered miserably.

"I asked you to," Spock said simply. "You needed release."

He had never come so fast in his life. Just wham bang and it was over. That was that. More pain than pleasure. Was this what it was going to be like? This what he had hoped to find for them?

"We didn't even meld."

Be grateful for that. It was wrenching, frightening. Nothing to share.

Spock touched him gently. "Jim, do not distress yourself. There is the entire night before us."

Kirk turned to him, searching his face.

A ghost of a smile appeared on the Vulcan's lips. "You must remember that I have some knowledge of both need and pleasure. I wish to give you pleasure."

"Was it horrible?" he asked, feeling like a child.

"The taste was curious, but interesting. The texture was very pleasant, delicate and smooth. And the...spasm itself was...." He faltered, "....The power of life is always awesome."

Kirk managed a small sheepish grin. "I suppose it was...the logical solution."

"Your immediate tension is relieved, but you are not fully relaxed. I believe a massage is a traditional solution."

"A massage would be wonderful."

"Give me your robe." A gentle command.

Kirk slipped off the robe and handed it to Spock, who draped it neatly over the back of a chair. Kirk watched as Spock undressed calmly, methodically. Removing each boot, his socks, folding his shirt and pants precisely. Adding his regulation black underwear to the pile.

Male. Male is an attribute of Spock.

Strange still, to be so moved by a man's body.

You are beautiful.

Naked, Spock returned to the bed, sat beside him. Kirk lay back, letting the strong hands slide smooth over his chest and shoulders, under his neck. Closed his eyes, submitting to that assured touch. Fingers began to rotate gently at the base of his skull, loosening coils of energy, unknown tension. Slowly they inched through his hair, massaged his scalp, palms rotating at temples and forehead. Fingertips padded across his face, settled in unfamiliar configurations around his eyes, cheekbones, lips, jaw. Probed, circled with easy pressure.

An odd sensation, his features shifting beneath those certain fingers. But relaxing...

He let himself drift.

The hands were slow, thorough. Taking long minutes, they traveled down, exercising more familiar techniques on pectorals, biceps. They kneaded an arm, shoulder to wrist, the fingers then exploring the structure of his hand. Those curious deep probings.

Moving again, slowly, across ribs, belly, thighs, knees, calves. Feet. Sole, heel, arch. Then each toe taken in turn, exquisitely dismantled, reassembled.

He laughed softly, his feet so absurdly happy.

The hands turned him over, began their journey upward. They seemed to be memorizing his body as they kneaded calves, thighs, ass. His other arm made as limp as its twin. Knuckles doing some marvelous alien thing to each of his vertebrae, climbing them one by one to the base of his skull. Thumbs pressing, sending chills down his spine. His being rippled, flowed, as Spock's hands flowed the length of his body in one smooth stroke.

"Feels so good," he murmured. Gratitude inaudible except to alien ears.

He felt Spock's lips on the back of his knee, parting in a kiss that caressed with their moist inner surface. The flush of desire suffused through him, his entire body open now to receive it. The kisses began their own journey. Delicious kisses that licked and sucked and bit in one succulent gesture. Over one cheek and then up his back to nibble shoulders and neck. Another smooth stroke, tongue sliding along his spine. He felt utterly sensual, alive to his toenails and fingertips. Even his hair seemed to vibrate, tingle.

The kisses traveled across his other cheek, traveled to the cleft in his ass, paused. The sure hands opened him, the hot mouth planted itself firmly, the velvet tongue licked. Shocked, his body tensed even as pleasure shot through him.

Spock was a Vulcan, for god's sake.

"Spock, you don't have to..."

In answer the hot velvet lapped him again and again. He could feel himself like some strange flower of flesh against Spock's tongue. A hungry mouth, the tongue teasing its center. He shivered with delight, but he could not accept....

"Stop," he whispered. "Stop."

Spock released him and Kirk turned over to meet his gaze, gentle, quizzical.

"You do not engage in this form of erotic stimulation?"


"It does not offend me. I will do whatever pleases you."

"I don't expect...." he fumbled. Just what did he expect? What was he sparing Spock? All extra coital dalliances might well be equally outrageous in Spock's eyes, or equally acceptable. And getting himself fucked was hardly the Vulcan way.

There was no excitement in Spock's face, but the expression was tender, open.

"Jim, I do desire the intimacy."

Yes, Kirk thought, I love you too. And I know now you're committed to me emotionally. Committed passionately...emotionally.

Spock's fingers trailed across his rib cage, retraced their path to recapture a shiver on the edge of his belly. Curious in all things, his Vulcan.

"Jim..." Spock fumbling a little too, "...can you not accept that I wish to bring you pleasure?"

Why was that so hard? Wasn't it just what he wanted most himself, to give Spock? He would do anything for Spock, deny him nothing. Wasn't his own uninhibited response just the gift he should give in return for these caresses? The gift he hoped to receive.

He lay back, grinned weakly. "It's just that Humans can be so...bizarre."

"Indeed, although the Denebians and the...."

Suspicion crossed his mind. "Spock, have you been reading up?"

"I thought it best to be prepared for this eventuality. Aside from my limited personal experience, my knowledge was at best adequate. A scientist's knowledge, technical and uninspired. I did not wish to be awkward."

"But...how did you react, reading all that erotic stuff?"

"Given the uncertain circumstances, I endeavored to subdue all emotion during my perusals, although it was not always easy to remain detached. I discovered the most curious phenomena, though much of it was inapplicable to humans. Would you find such discussion stimulating?" Spock asked, fingers exploring the inside of his thigh.

"Undoubtedly." He could just imagine Spock describing the mating dance of the Denebian Slime Devils.

"Perhaps some other evening?" Spock suggested gently, as lips replaced fingers.

Kirk gasped at the touch, chuckled. "You are a very quick study, Mr. Spock."

"Thank you, Captain."

He reached down, let his fingers slide through Spock's hair, ruffling the warm silk as Spock repeated the tour of kisses on the front of his body, exploring him thoroughly. Investigating each particularly interesting spot to see if he preferred to be licked, sucked, bitten. Why had the inside of his elbow been so interesting? His navel he could understand, navels were supposed to be sexy. Though he'd never responded like this before, tendrils of sensation teasing his loins.

The tour circled his genitals, slowly, so slowly centering. He was breathing quickly now. His cock had long since hardened. It bobbed, swayed, and he shivered with each chance contact, brushing Spock's hair, his ear, brushing his shoulder as the Vulcan's lips again bent to nuzzle his inner thigh. He wanted to beg Spock to suck him...but he could barely bring himself to nudge him gently with his hands, drawing his head closer, closer...

"Oh yes," he moaned, "yes...oh yes..."

Hot breath against his balls, and hot lips. Spock's tongue stroking the underside of his cock, again and again. Liquid velvet melting around him, engulfing him. He moaned again, caressing Spock's face, feeling the soft sucking under his fingers. It was strange, wonderfully strange to feel himself so hot within his own body, so cool within Spock's hotter mouth.

How cool I must have been when you were burning....

Almost in answer, Spock's hand wrapped around the slick shaft of his cock, stroking it as he sucked the head. Sucking hard, insistent, demanding...as he had once done to Spock. He began to pulse with desire, his hips thrusting against that firm grip. Spock's other hand slid between his legs, under his ass, urging the rhythm of his hips. Squeezing ass, cock, pumping him, sucking him. Slow, then fast, faster, completely attuned to his rising excitement. Excitement that condensed now, centered in him, a tight pulsing core reaching for its peak, striving for its own destruction.

"Wait," he pleaded, "wait, wait." He didn't want to come again, not yet.

Spock released him and sat back on his heels. As their eyes met he realized something had changed. Spock looked flushed, his eyes more intense. Kirk remembered how in rapport they had been, Spock matching his rhythm to perfection. He reached out to touch him, a question in his eyes.

"It appears that the energy level you attain as you approach orgasm is sufficient to initiate my arousal," Spock answered.

"But I came once already."

"At that time I had just lowered my mental shields, and did experience a brief, though intense, surge of energy. But I could not identify my previous impression as pleasure."

He'd had that trouble himself, Kirk thought ruefully. "The energy you pick up from me, will it last?"

"Perhaps a further test would be in order?"

Spock bent once more to his service, sucking him expertly, bringing him quickly and surely to that quivering peak. He was afraid he would come this time, but Spock utilized some subtle version of the Vulcan neck pinch, subduing his prick painlessly and efficiently. He studied Spock intently, awash with delight at his parted lips, the faintly quickened breath.

"The effect does appear to be cumulative."

He grasped Spock's shoulders, grinning madly. "I don't care if I have to hover on the brink all night!"

"You wish to experience my pleasure?" Spock was suddenly shy, tentative.

"Yes, I wish very much to experience your pleasure. I want nothing more than a horny Vulcan in my bed."

Spock was genuinely confused. "Horny? Your sexual vocabulary is more extensive than mine...."

"I mean I want you. I want you to want me as much as I want you. I want to make you moan and writhe and shiver with delight at all the things I can think up to do to you."

"I will endeavor to fulfill your desires," Spock said, mock serious.

Kirk shook his head, laughing softly at Spock, at his own wild burst of enthusiasm. His hair had dangled in his eyes and Spock reached out, brushing it back from his forehead. Memory flashed, the same gesture after their mating on Setarcos. He had kissed Spock, wondering then if the first kiss was the last.

He knew Spock was remembering too.

They seemed to melt together. Lips sinking soft into soft, arms encircling. Such languorous kisses, savoring every nuance, lips brushing, nuzzling, lapping and overlapping. Smooth surfaces, moist inner edges. Cool and hot blending to warm. Covering each other's mouths with sweet wet sucking, like two vaginas hungering on each other...strange that thought didn't frighten, only moved him. He held Spock's face close to his, teased the parting lips with his tongue, invaded, craving the dark heat, dark flavor. Imagined a cock like a tongue, that could tickle and curl, shuddered happily as the hot mouth held him, sucking, sucking. He teased himself free, coaxed Spock's tongue into his mouth, entwining it with his own. Tender dueling.

"That was most pleasant," Spock whispered as they parted.

"Indeed?" he teased, brushing Spock's lips with his fingertips.

Spock gasped softly. "It is a Vulcan touch," he explained.

Kirk repeated that touch, tracing the outline of each feature, nose, cheeks, brows. He drew Spock closer, caressing the beloved ears with delicate whispers of fingertips, lips, earning the shivers he'd asked for. He blew softly into the hollow, probed it with his tongue, as his fingers skimmed the curve of throat and shoulder, the edge of collarbone. Skimmed Spock's chest, hair tickling his fingertips.

"You are wonderfully furry," he told Spock's ear. Felt an answering touch on his own smooth skin.

"Our differences are most intriguing."

Different alike different. Male male. Human Vulcan. How female this Vulcan love of delicacy, of touches that barely touched.

You are as infinitely mysterious as woman to me.

He slid his hand through the crisp, curling hair, down the length of Spock's torso, to gather the cock in his hand. Soft still, it nestled in his palm, stirring faintly as he caressed the head, traced the double ridges with his thumb.

"Most intriguing," he echoed, smiling. He bent his head to give the tip a kiss, then pressed Spock back against the bed. He began the fingertip skimming again, watching the effect of his touches. Even unmelded they were in rapport now, in league in this seduction. He took his time, peeling away years of skillful repression, feeling Spock's sensuality unfolding under his hands. He had the amused sense of undoing some elaborate garment, full of numerous fastenings, little ties, buttons, hooks to be opened with lips, tongue, teeth. Each caress uncovered some new response, and some new lock to be unfastened. Spock sighing luxuriously, seeking greedy kisses between explorations.

He took Spock's cock in his hand again, not fully hard, but swelling now, wonderfully springy. Such a beautiful cock, so fancy, a carved jade fetish. He circled each ridge with his tongue tip, traced the pattern of the veins, then laid a moist swath along the shaft, brushed along the moistness with open lips, drawing in his breath.

"That is exquisite," Spock murmured. "So cold."

The cock swelled again, a little more, pressing against his lips. Kirk drenched it in kisses, urging its response. Little tongues of fire licking his own genitals. Patience, he told himself, that's your heat, not his. He blew on the cock again, softly, since Spock like that so much. Then he gently nosed it aside to lap the soft skin of the scrotum. He kissed each ball in turn, drew them into his mouth to suck, feeling their roundness in his mouth, firm within soft. Spock sensitive, ticklish here, squirming deliciously. As he sucked, Kirk trailed fingertips up Spock's inner thighs. They parted to his touch, opened. His fingers strayed inward, through wispy curls to the moist rim of flesh.

Suddenly, heat was beating through his blood, his own cock pulsing. Kirk pulled back his hands, resting on Spock's thighs, taking deep breaths to quiet his surge of desire. He brushed Spock's cock with his cheek, wishing it hard as his own, yearning.

Spock's hand glided over his ass, his back. Gently tousled his hair.

"You wish to enter me now?" Spock asked softly. A rhetorical question.

"I can wait." Kirk kept his face averted. He couldn't help remembering his own initiation, the shock of pain, the sense of violation. "You're not ready. I don't want to hurt you."

"You will not hurt me. I am quite relaxed."

And not afraid, not angry. With a Vulcan command of your body.

He let his fingers trail along Spock's open thighs again, inward to the cleft. He had barely touched Spock there yet, he couldn't....

Everything in him flaming, and Spock still only flickering.

"I want to do more for you."

"Penetration would please me as much as anything. I wish us to belong to each other."

It was what Kirk wanted most, male-possessive enough to need to claim that surrender from Spock. To have shared that surrender. It completed the link for him, binding them male to male.

He laughed softly then, letting desire flow through him, suffuse him. Letting it shine in his eyes as he smiled at Spock's bemused face, the eyebrows arching.

Yes, he thought, this will please you. As much as anything.

He knelt between Spock's legs, taking them over his shoulders. He lubricated his cock, gently rubbed it between Spock's cheeks, centering. Pressed in slowly, casing himself. Spock welcoming, hot, slick, relaxed but still tight, incredibly tight and smooth....

He sank in, moaning.

It was right, so right, their flesh together.

He took another deep breath, reclaiming control. He wrapped his arms around Spock's legs and began an easy, rhythmic stroking, letting himself flow along the path of least resistance to the edge of orgasm. Watching the flicker, the responsive kindling in Spock's eyes. His own desire still arousing Spock as much as the touch of their bodies. He led himself to the edge again, again, once again, commanding his own exquisite torment. Spock's eyes fixed on him, his breath quickening, offering the sharp new sensation awakening in him. Kirk thrust deep, deep, pushing himself again....

Onto the razor's edge and holding there.

Trembling. Pressing his trembling against Spock.

Sharing sweet agony.

A deep shudder ran through Spock, and for the first time his eyes closed, lips parted in a soundless cry. A rush of heat swept through the body Kirk held, pressed so close against him, and Kirk felt the anal muscles tighten, squeeze him, feeling every inch of his cock.

"Oh, Jim," Spock whispered, and Kirk thought he had never seen anything so beautiful as Spock's face at that moment, so young, vulnerable, hungry and offering. Smoothly he shifted his hold so one hand could caress Spock's genitals. The balls drawn up tight, the cock taut and straining under his fingers, the double ridges flaring, pulsing softly at his touch.

"Jim..." whispered again, pleading.

He flowed into a rhythm that seemed to be there, waiting, the natural meld of their two bodies. Spock pliant, alive in his arms, quivering with new life, his body pungent with musk and cedar. Kirk moved surely, quick slow deep deep, then teasing, pulling out to the edge of their joining. Letting their bodies beg to reclaim each other. Pumping Spock gently with the pulse of his own blood. Then plunging, pressing all the way in...

Spock moaned. A soft, wounded cry that pierced Kirk deeply, sweetly, as his cock pierced Spock.

They were close now, so close to the edge. There would be no turning back. Only one thing more needed, to make it perfect. His mind reaching.

Spock's touch so light.

The world turning inside out in slow motion....

He felt their joining. Their shared center, so deep, so secret. The center of the world. Himself deep in Spock, and Spock hot, moist, clinging to him. And all was stillness, tenderness, power.

Strange there was no need to move, to thrust, to fling himself into passion. He was caught in this great dark power. And all the power he possessed was only a part of it, reaching through him to touch the power reaching through Spock. To join in one pulsing center.

He could only hold himself still within stillness and be one with the dark pulsing secret center of the world. All energy power sweetness radiating outward, rippling, radiating from that center. Oneness to separateness. Bright soft waves pulsing, rippling to the far edge of his being.

"Spock?" he whispered. Not believing what was happening.

That he could feel so much and still know he felt anything.

His voice echoing within them.

Spock smiling.

Oneness pulsing pulsing....

It was like this before, like dying of joy.

Sweet drowning. Sweet death by giving giving giving....


So goddamned beautiful.

He slipped Spock's legs from his shoulders and leaned forward over him, though his arms could barely support him.

I don't even remember coming. I just dissolved.

He saw tears were running down Spock's face, though he seemed unaware of it, still enraptured in their shared joy. Kirk brushed one cheek gently, and Spock's hand rose to touch the other. Carried a tear to his lips to taste.

"Fascinating," Spock murmured, managing to combine sexual awe and scientific curiosity.

"What's fascinating?"

"They do not sting. Indeed, they are most refreshing. The saline content must be quite different. Why has no one ever commented on this particular difference between these tears, and those of pain?"

"Probably too happy to notice the difference."

"Possibly. It was necessary for you to draw them to my attention."

He had a sudden urge to tell Spock how much he loved him. For a moment it hurt him, wanting so much to say it.

But he had said it, more than once. It wasn't fair now, when the words would ask for return in kind. He intended never to ask Spock for those words.

Like getting the galaxy, he told himself, and wanting a pink ribbon for it. Just an illogical human desire for needless babble.

He saw concern in Spock's eyes, and kissed him instead. Letting touch be their language.

"It was the right choice," he said.

"I trust it will be. We cannot know," Spock replied, fingertip tracing the shape of his lips. "But if in some alternate universe we chose another path, I am content to remain in ours."


Click for Part 3 - Night of the Dragon



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