How could anyone so ridiculously charming be so ridiculously irritating? Spock calculated for results and could not find a feasible answer. As always, Captain James T. Kirk fell fair outside the means and comforts of logical explanations. Turning back to his post to gaze into the sensor screen, Spock considered his latest irritation. It had only been a week since the Pon Farr and he was still feeling the urges deep in his loins to mate, though they were bearable now. When he thought he'd killed this beautiful, tragic, wonderfully annoying human being he'd realized just what it was he'd been feeling all along as he served as first officer to Kirk. Where once had been an arrogant commanding officer, then a reluctant acquaintance, then a good friend, there was now an unreachable love. Spock had felt the hints of love toward a human before, but what he'd felt then was nothing compared to now. He'd always preferred females in the past when considering sexual preference in partners, but when it came to the extraordinary human being sitting in the captain's chair, what he usually preferred was thrown entirely out the window, or defenestrated, if one wished to be accurate, Spock corrected mentally with a slight nod of his leonine head.
Perking one dark, angled eyebrow upward, Spock gazed at Kirk's profile, resisting the urge to walk down to stand beside him. To do so had become nearly unbearable, not because he felt that he would lose control, as he almost had during the Pon Farr, but simply because standing so close to the one he loved without being able to have the object of his affections was literally painful. He'd researched for hours methods of relieving the agonizing sparks of pain he felt in his chest when he thought of being without James, but there was none, at least in the computer's databases. And so he simply stayed at his post, though there was nothing to be detected or scanned for lightyears. They were travelling through a practically dead area of space, where no stars or planets had been foolish enough to linger. Spock had spotted and recorded a few comets, but beyond that, nothing. All was boredom. And, plausibly, this boredom left time for his logical, orderly Vulcan mind and his irrational unruly human mind plenty of time to spar, causing him only further irritation.
As if this weren't enough, a pretty young yeoman - a blonde, C-cup, size-four waist female yeoman of approximately 29.382 years of age, to be roughly exact, had just walked up to Jim's side and was exerting far more charm than was required to get a data slate signed. Usually, Spock ignored such things. But not today. The yeoman had long ago - three minutes and fourteen seconds to be somewhat precise - gotten Jim's signature. It was past time for her to vacate the premises.
"Thank you, yeoman, that is sufficient," Spock snapped as he rapidly approached Jim, feeling his usual Vulcan control swept back by a wave of possessive, highly aggressive emotion - jealousy. An amused look swept over Jim's face before he brushed his usual calm demeanor back over his handsome façade. A lock of liquid gold hair had tumbled down to his forehead. Spock had to resist the overwhelming urge to tuck it back into place. Jim had obviously been more interested in the yeoman than Spock, which made what he said next quite a surprise to Spock.
"Jealous, Spock?" Jim purred, so quietly that Spock had to glance at him in disbelief, gaping, as he realized that he'd actually said it. Spock prided himself on his honesty, but now was not the time.
"I do not see what you mean, Captain," Spock said sweetly, feigning innocence as well as his emotionless mask was capable of. Jim smirked and glanced away, to the main viewing screen.
"Of course, not, Mr. Spock. There's nothing going on here. What's say we grab lunch and play a game of chess in my quarters?" Spock lifted one eyebrow in a critical look.
"Captain, it is my duty to keep an eye on . . ."
"On what? Space dust? Come on, Spock. Just one game and lunch," Jim pressed, knowing he'd eventually get his way. He always did. Spock widened and then narrowed his eyes, his usual sign of irritation. He gazed at Kirk and allowed the sparest amount of amusement to tint his expression.
"Yes, Captain. I believe you deserve the chance to catch up to my winning score," he goaded gently. Jim was the only being Spock would ever tease, and he loved doing it. Jim smiled widely.
"You have the conn. Spock and I will return in a couple of hours or so." Spock started to open his mouth to protest the length of time Jim had predicted, but snapped his mouth shut quickly when he saw the razor sharp look Jim slid his direction. He nodded almost imperceptibly and followed Jim to the lift, stepping inside just as the captain reached for the control wand that sent the lift rocketing toward the hallway that lead to his and Spock's quarters.
"Sir, may I ask why you allotted such an abnormally long period of time for a mere game of chess?" Spock inquired wonderingly. Kirk glanced at Spock from the corner of his eye.
"Perhaps, Mr. Spock, I intend to offer you an abnormally difficult game of chess," he suggested. Spock again lifted one fine brow, his only reaction to the captain's proclamation.
The lift opened at the desired location and they walked past Spock's door, down the hall to Kirk's own room. He keyed in his opening code and Spock followed him inside. The door slid shut with a quiet shnickt noise. With that, Spock found himself attacked by what could only be described as a wild animal. He found himself pinned to the wall, gasping for breath as a hot mouth was forced roughly upon his own. A rough, demanding tongue was crammed unquestioningly into his mouth. Hands grasped and pinched at him, ruffling his hair, tweaking his nipples, fluttering over his groin. He moaned into the demanding mouth and struggled, had to put full Vulcan force into his actions.
Spock gasped for breath, staring wide-eyed at Jim, who stood before him breathing just as hard, though his face was red and Spock's was green.
"Captain . . ."
"Spock," Jim rasped, and leapt for him again. "I know you want this." Spock fought him, though it took every ounce of self-control to do so.
"Jim," he snarled, snatching at groping hands and pinning them to his sides. "No."
"Spock . . . I . . . want you. I want you. Now."
"No." Spock swallowed. He had to be dreaming. And dreams were the epitome of un-Vulcan behavior. His mahogany brown eyes stared into hypnotizing green-gold ones and he melted. "Jim," he whimpered, in the back of his mind ashamed of how very human he sounded. He released Jim's wrists and leaned into the attentions, running his hands behind Jim's broad back, caressing him, stroking hard muscles, sleek bone and soft flesh. Jim ran hands through his hair, down the sides of his face, over his chest, around his waist, touching everything. His lips trailed over Spock's swollen lips, which had gone nearly green with blood, and swept down to his regal jaw line, then to his neck to suckle and lick. Spock groaned in agony, feeling a hard swelling forming in his pants. All logic had flown quite freely from his mind, and again, he was deep in the feeling of the plak tow, undeniably and unconditionally horny. His last cognizant thought was dedicated to wondering whether Jim knew just what he was getting himself into. Spock grabbed Jim's hands aggressively, and while Jim's lips stroked over him, Spock's first two fingers were stroking over Jim's. His mind prodded and pressed into Jim and found little resistance there. With a deep growl, he plundered Jim's mind, wandering freely through it, claiming it as his own.
He and Jim made their way awkwardly, kissing, touching, stroking, growling, moaning, to the bed, where clothes were ripped violently away from struggling, sweating bodies that thrashed together eagerly. One of Spock's hands was poised, spider-like, against Jim's face, and the other still held the fingers of their hands together. Jim writhed and struggled against him, stroking his engorged penis against Spock's own genitals.
"Spock . . ." he heard Jim murmur in surprise. Spock's genitals, since he was Vulcan, or at least half so, were different that a humans'. His central shaft and testicles were the same, though the testicles were far larger and only dropped down when fully aroused, but he possessed, to each side of his penis, a tendril of muscled flesh, called frals, whose sole purpose was to further arouse the partner. He kissed Jim's ear gently.
"Thy'la," he murmured, "Allow me . . ." There was a frantic struggle, a cry, a grunt and Jim was on his stomach on the bed. Spock lifted the captain's hips upward and draped his own body over Jim's, allowing his thick, rigid penis to lay between the hillocks of Jim's ass.
"Spock," Jim gasped, and Spock could hear the fear drenching his tone.
"I promise I will be gentle," Spock murmured, forcing reason to assert some control in his mind. He would not hurt the being he so urgently loved. Gently, ever so slowly, he pressed against Jim's orifice, wiping his own natural lubricant around the edge and inside of Jim's warm, trembling body, as well as over his own shaft. Slowly, lovingly, he pressed into Jim, who grasped desperately at his sheets and gasped in both pain and pleasure. Spock pushed until his testicles were pressed against Jim's ass and then pulled out slightly, only to press in again. Through his mind link with Jim, he suggested that the pain was not really there. As soon as he did, the clenched muscles relaxed and he was allowed freedom of movement. The warmth, the tightness of the enclosure was heaven and Spock shuddered in pleasure as he began thrusting in and out. Meanwhile, the two long fral tendrils reached forward beneath Jim's hips to grasp at his penis and balls. As Spock frantically pumped into Jim's body, his tendrils stroked Jim into a frenzy until he was gasping frantically for breath and writhing pleasurably beneath Spock's own hot, sweaty body. Spock allowed the momentum and timing of his thrusts to increase until he was slamming in and out only an inch or so. He gasped, growled or grunted with every thrust, with every slap of hot, wet flesh on flesh as he felt a tingling heat rising in his belly as the frals wrung frantically around Jim's hard shaft and soft, plump balls.
Jim reciprocated, thrusting forward into the luxurious grasp of Spock's frals, and then backwards into the force of Spock rubbing against his prostate as he filled him enthusiastically. The bizarre fullness was exquisite, and quite unlike any feeling Jim had ever encountered. As the warm, wet tendrils massaged him, he felt himself preparing to come. With short, sharp gasps of air through his nose, he prepared himself, bracing his body as he clenched down on Spock's cock, which was buried deep within him. Spock felt Jim's completion nearing and felt with satisfaction that his was as well. With well timed, but grunt punctuated taps of his hips, he rubbed his penis in and out of Jim. He continued his thrusting, marveling at the warmth and tightness until the tingling heat grew to a gnawing pain and then transformed into a feeling of exquisite release as his testicles leapt and clenched and squirted syrupy strings of semen deep into Jim's body. Just as he did, Jim himself released, his internal muscles throbbing and vibrating in response to Spock's ejaculation as salty-smelling white cum splattered the bedspread beneath his exhausted, panting body. Spock held him gently, arching his body above his, gasping for breath through his nose as his penis softened and slid from Jim's own body with a wet sucking sound. Jim winced and gasped, but Spock soothed him mentally and slid downwards to lap and tongue at the bruised, bleeding area of Jim's body.
Spock's abnormally warm tongue, rough and foreign, was ridiculously arousing, and Jim felt himself again growing hard as his new lover continued his ministrations.
"Spock," he shuddered, thrusting slightly into the mattress below him. Spock turned him over in response, and poised his body over Jim's, this time backwards so that they were mouth-to-groin with one another. The hot-bodied Vulcan slid Jim's still moist and half-hardened dick into his mouth and sucked, humming softly against it. Jim gasped and thrust forward into the exquisite heat as he took the wide head of Spock's cock into his mouth and sucked on the hot flesh. The frals swept gently to either side of his face, soothing and soft, where before they had been frantic and rough. It was a bizarre feeling, but Jim was utterly satisfied by the feeling of his own hardening rod in Spock's mouth. Experimentally, he licked up the long, thick shaft and was rewarded by a half-choked outcry of pleasure from the usually reserved Vulcan. Spock, in response, did the same to him and he groaned in ecstasy. The tendrils patted gently at his face, and with an amused smirk, Jim abandoned the main shaft and captured one of the frals in his mouth. At first it struggled, almost as if it were a separate creature from Spock and wanted to escape, but in a moment it relaxed and softened in his mouth, pressing against his tongue, dancing with it. The other impatiently prodded at his lips and Jim welcomed the odd, slick sensation of the two frals moving inside his mouth as he sucked on them gently. Abruptly, he abandoned the frals and deep-throated the weeping green cock that he had been pumping with his hand.
"Oh, Jim, I am about to . . ." Spock never had the opportunity to say "ejaculate" as more stringy, honey-like semen squirted from his penis. Jim caught the nectar-sweet seed and tasted it, intrigued by its smell, texture and flavor. Spock gave his penis one last hard suck and he too, ejaculated, pleased when he felt the warm Vulcan mouth suckling him until he had nothing left to give. He attempted to do the same for Spock, but already the large testicles were retreating within his body and the frals were recoiling to wind loosely around his penis, which was softening. Jim touched Spock's bizarre genitals gently and was startled when a cry of pain reached his ears and a stab of agony reached his mind. "Don't," Spock cried, abdomen flinching as his genitals clenched upon themselves protectively.
"I'm sorry, Spock," Jim murmured. "I have a lot to learn." Spock nuzzled Jim's pubic hair and then turned, crawling up to lie beside him. He gazed into gold-green eyes for a long moments as Jim stared into his mahogany ones languidly, simply enjoying his presence.
"Captain," Spock finally said, eyebrows raised with interest, "Do you intend to play chess now?" Jim burst out laughing.
"No, Spock I had not intended to actually play chess."
"Then that would make what you said earlier a lie," Spock stated, not an accusation, simply an observation.
"No, not a lie. An omission. I never told Scotty what we'd be doing." Spock tilted his head in acquiescence. A very, very slight smile spilled over Spock's face, testament to his partially human side. He held up two elegant fingers. With a full grin, Jim rubbed his own over Spock's fingers lovingly, enjoying the strange sensation the contact caused. Through the mindmeld, the feeling of their fingers stroking against one another was like a kiss, and the more thoroughly and aggressively he rubbed, the more erotic the kiss-like sensation felt. Until Spock grunted in pain.
"What?" Spock groaned quietly.
"A result of my human and Vulcan traits. Vulcans are able to ejaculate several times without problems. Humans often grow tender after such contact, however, so I feel pain if I grow too quickly or too often aroused," he explained, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. Jim reached a hand out and gently traced Spock's jaw.
"Then let me show my love to you, not just my lust," he murmured into Spock's ear, welcoming the warm presence of Spock's mind inside his own.
Spock found himself swept into an overwhelming show of emotion, of strong memories reaped from the corners of Jim's mind that demonstrated his love and showed his devotion, his adoration for the half-Vulcan, half-Terran creature lying comfortably nude beside him. Jim stroked a gentle hand through the rough yet soft hair of Spock's chest and belly, revealing to Spock in his mind the great passion he felt toward him and the joy he'd felt when a tendril of Spock's mind had accidently forced itself into his own when he'd discovered that he had not killed his captain. It was instinctual, a typical Vulcan behavior that was intended to reconnect mates that had been violently torn apart. Without thought or choice Spock had jabbed into Jim's mind and revealed his true feelings for his captain.
Jim smiled at the shy blush that spread over Spock's face when he realized the error he had unknowingly made.
"It's alright, Spock. I'm glad it happened, otherwise I would never have . . . approached you about it," he assured him, a Cheshire cat grin spreading over his attractive face. Spock raised a brow.
"I am not certain your usage of the term ‘approach' is quite correct, Captain. I believe a word such as ‘confront' or ‘attack' would better fit your assault of my person after your discovery," Spock teased lightly, earning him a soft cuff on the chin by a playful fist. He gasped and pulled back, still not fully adjusted to Jim's sudden outbursts of physical contact. Spock wasn't sure if he would ever be fully used to Jim, but somehow that knowledge gratified him. He was a scientist. New discoveries fascinated and delighted him.
"Well, Spock, I believe it's time we get ready to go back to the bridge," Jim finally said hesitantly, regretfully stroking a finger over one of Spock's daintily pointed ears. Spock sighed, but agreed and they swiftly cleaned up, dressed and returned to their posts.
"I ‘ope you enjoyed a lovely break, Captain," Scotty said with a cheery smile as he stepped back to his usual post. Spock turned back to face his captain and now his lover, giving him a cautious, warning look that Jim ignored completely. Jim smirked, glanced at Spock's admonishing expression and then turned to Scotty with a mischievous look on his ruggedly handsome face.
"Yes, Scotty. It was quite a remarkable game of chess," he said simply. Spock thought he might die instantly of embarrassment, but instead he chose to stare intently into his sensor panel, hoping that no one noticed the strong spread of green over his thin cheeks.
"Indeed, Captain," he said without turning, "A very successful game. Of course, you cannot blame yourself for your failure to secure a win," he continued, now turning to face Jim so that he could add a roguish response of his own. "I am an exceptional chess player."
"Are you bragging, Mr. Spock?" Doctor McCoy asked in surprise from his position behind Jim's chair. Spock gazed at him wordlessly for a moment before glancing at Jim and replying,
"Hardly, Doctor. I was merely stating fact."
"Yes," Jim purred, stringing the word into several syllables. "A successful game indeed." He pulled his face into a mildly irritated expression but was wise enough to let Spock's jab go -for now. He'd win the next game, he vowed, telling Spock so mentally. The tall, handsome Vulcan merely allowed a very slight smile to twist the edges of his thick pink lips upward before turning in satisfaction to his work.
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