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“Do you remember the first time we got stuck in a cave together?” Jim asked, resting his weight against the body behind him. His voice echoed strangely against the walls, low and narrow and pressed in around them, and he had to shift to brush sharp nuggets of gravel from under his ass. They had lost the sound of the storm the farther they traipsed into the mountain, and now it was eerily silent but for the sound of their settling.
This deep into the cavern, the only light was the gently glowing stone they had heated with their phasers, a red ember shine a few feet away that cast tall, thin shadows along the wall.
“My memory is flawless, Jim,” Spock reminded him, his voice a rumble in his chest, breath against Jim’s ear. Jim smiled.
Spock tucked his arms under Jim’s, wrapped them around Jim’s chest as they got comfortable, or as comfortable as they could. The emergency blanket would provide scant padding for Spock’s back against the rough cave wall, but it draped warm around them as Jim drew his knees up to his chest, as Spock’s thighs bracketed his own. He felt cocooned, warm, safe. Spock always made him feel safe -- his strong arms and warm touch and that steady heartbeat Jim could feel low in his back. He hoped he made Spock feel safe, too.
“Come on, I’m reminiscing here. You remember what a fuss you put up about cuddling for warmth back then?”
A little breath heaved the chest behind him, and Jim almost laughed at Spock’s almost-laugh. “I do remember,” Spock said softly. “I believe I knew at the time that my feelings for you may become apparent with proximity. You understand why I was reticent to ‘cuddle.’”
“And the second time we got trapped,” Jim let out a chuckle at the memory. “We shared the same emergency blanket, remember? By that time I was so sure you had figured out I was attracted to you.”
“Your erection in the morning was a hint I believe I should have interpreted as such,” Spock said, “rather than assuming it was typical.”
Jim ran his hands along Spock’s arms, trying to warm his own fingertips. When his touch reached Spock’s wrists, he paused. “May I?” he asked, and he felt Spock nod. Jim took Spock’s hands, cold as ice when Jim pulled them between his own, holding them against his chest and rubbing his fingers gently.
“And the third time,” Jim continued, closing his eyes against the near-darkness. “With the rest of the landing party? I made sure I slept next to you that night. Silly me, thinking I wouldn’t get another chance.”
Finding the pads of Spock’s fingers, he pressed a clumsy ozh'esta against his hand, made awkward by the angle, but Spock nuzzled his nose into Jim’s hair at the motion, breathing out what could have been a sigh.
“Even had we not eventually established a romantic relationship,” Spock said, “I believe you would have had many more chances. We do seem to find ourselves trapped in cold caves fairly frequently.”
Jim laughed. “You know,” he said, resuming his ministrations. “I don’t really mind it. Depending on the circumstances of course.” Touch light, he kept himself aware of Spock’s reactions. The subtle speed of breath, the clench of thighs around him. He knew how sensitive Spock’s hands could be, and while he was careful with Spock’s boundaries -- and had been especially careful since they’d begun this relationship only a few short months ago -- he didn’t want Spock to suffer the cold.
“You do not mind being trapped in freezing caves?” Spock asked, his voice a near deadpan.
“Not really,” Jim said, rubbing gently at each of Spock’s knuckles. “We never really get a chance to get away from it all. No crew. No ship. No responsibilities. Until that storm ends we’re stuck. It’s freeing in a way. Isn’t it?” Now moving onto Spock’s palms, Jim began to massage both of them with his thumbs, an absent gesture that nevertheless made Spock shiver. At least, Jim doubted it was the chill in the air that did it.
“You do make a fair point,” Spock said, and Jim noted the slight strain in his voice. “I seldom find the thought of being stranded with you to be unpleasant.”
Jim huffed, scooching down a little bit so his head was resting on Spock’s chest, just under his chin. He could concentrate more on Spock’s hands this way, the way their fingers tangled in that glowing light and cast one solid shadow against the wall, as though they were one being instead of two.
“You sure this is alright?” Jim asked, warming his own freezing fingers as he felt the blood returning to Spock’s.
“It is,” Spock confirmed gently. He tightened his legs around Jim, and Jim snuggled a little closer with the permission. For a while, they sat in silence, Jim gently holding Spock’s hands now that the warmth had mostly returned, finally beginning to feel truly comfortable in spite of the dropping temperature around them and the slowly dimming light of the heated rock. After a time, he laced Spock’s fingers with his own and raised them to his lips, breathing hot against them.
Jim didn’t miss the subtle hardness growing against his back, but he didn’t act on it either. He simply held Spock’s hands to his mouth, sinking heavy against Spock’s body.
Spock shivered again, almost imperceptibly, and whispered “Jim” against Jim’s ear. But there was no purpose to the word. It just existed, then dissipated into the otherwise silence. Jim smiled against his hands.
“Yes, Mister Spock?” Jim asked, and he felt Spock swallow. There was no answer -- nothing but the shift, Spock readjusting and pressing himself more fully against Jim’s back. He pulled his hands from Jim’s grasp, and for a moment Jim worried he had gone too far. An apology almost made its way to his lips before he felt Spock push intentionally harder against him, and felt Spock’s hands trailing downward, near tickling.
Spock often got hard when they kissed, whether with hands or lips, but he always seemed ashamed of his erection, afraid of what might happen if he gave into the pressure of Jim’s body against his own. One of the first nights of their new relationship, they had both nearly cum from the friction of each other’s thighs alone, and Spock had asked that they move slowly from there on out.
So they had moved slowly, only shared a bed but never touched -- at least, never touched like this -- like hot hands tugging Jim’s tunic inch-by-inch up his stomach, like fingertips barely grazing skin but in the most intentional of ways. Jim felt a shudder pass through his own body now, but when those hands made their way down his abdomen to the waistband of his slacks, he put a hand over Spock’s to still him.
“Spock,” he said, wetting his lips. His mouth had gone suddenly dry. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” Spock replied, popping the button all the same. His breath seemed to be coming faster, in fear or anticipation or that building thrill that Jim himself felt at the mere thought of Spock’s touch. “But I would like to.”
Maybe it was easier for Spock to touch him like this here, cut off from the ship for unknown hours, completely alone as long as the storm beat against the mountain where they took shelter. Maybe there was freedom in that.
Taking in a shaky breath, Jim removed his touch, allowing Spock to continue, emboldened by Spock’s determination and the quiet solitude of the cave. The heated rock had dimmed almost fully now, only tickling the edges of everything in Jim’s sight with red, but he felt hot now, over heated, flushed with the possibility in those nimble hands.
Spock’s fingers slipped under the fold of Jim’s slacks and, with far less hesitation than Jim expected, palmed him through his briefs. Jim gasped at the simple touch, dropping his chin to his chest as he felt Spock’s hot breath against his ear and the erection hardening obviously now against his back.
Spock moved slowly, gently, tracing the line of Jim’s cock through the thin fabric. A pair of soft lips pressed to his neck, and Jim let out a whimper. “I am sorry,” Spock said softly against his skin, tugging Jim into hardness, though he was already well on his way from anticipation alone. “I have wanted to do this for a very long time, and yet--”
“It’s okay,” Jim whispered, voice choked over the words. He brought a hand up to the back of Spock’s head, holding him close, leaning back against him. His boots scraped gravel as he widened his legs, a sound that echoed in their little alcove. Spock’s breath began to quicken against him. “I’d wait a lifetime for you, sweetheart. You -- you know that, right?”
“I know,” Spock said again, nosing behind Jim’s ear and leaving a kiss along its shell. Jim pulled himself in closer to Spock’s warmth as that hand worked him, gaining courage with each pull. Jim was desperate to shed his briefs for the promise of friction, but Spock was taking his time, exploring him, trailing his grip from base to tip, his heartbeat pounding against Jim’s back. Jim tried to contain each quiet moan and hitch of his breath, but every time he made a sound he felt Spock tense and shift, and it felt impossibly better to know Spock wanted this, too.
After some time, Spock released Jim’s erection to hook his thumbs into Jim’s briefs, pulling them down just enough. Jim bit his lip at the feeling of the relatively cool air against the wet tip of his prick, but when that hand returned to him, grasping now at bare skin, he gasped, pressing harder back against Spock’s chest.
Under most circumstances, Jim would have preferred a few drops of lubrication between Spock’s rough hand and his own sensitive skin, but he was so desperate for Spock’s touch he hardly noticed the scratch of callouses and the pinch between fingers. And when Spock thumbed at his head, squeezing precum from the tip, Jim let out a whine at the sudden slick.
“Spock,” he choked out, setting his hands on Spock’s thighs and digging fingers into the fabric of his slacks. Spock’s free hand climbed his stomach, tracing the line from his bellybutton to his chest, laying flat over his heartbeat.
In Spock’s hold he could feel every twitch of Spock’s muscles, every minute stutter in his breath, and the proof of Spock’s own arousal hard against him. With that steady hand pumping him he knew he wouldn’t last long.
“Spock,” he said again, feeling every cord of his muscles tightening, laying his head back onto Spock’s shoulder and shoving back against him as if there were any way to get closer than this. Spock took the offering of skin, nipping and kissing along the column of his neck. Those hot fingers were now wet with Jim’s precum, sliding up and down his shaft in carefully measured beats. “Spock, please.”
“Yes, Jim,” Spock said, and Jim didn’t know what permission he had been granted, only that he had been granted it, and his fingers curled into fists against Spock’s legs and he felt those thighs hold him tighter in place but it wasn’t until Spock’s hips rolled, rutting once, twice against his back that Jim felt that numbing wave of pleasure crash over him. He opened his mouth soundlessly as he spilled himself into Spock’s hand, his whole body seizing tight in that faithful grip. Spock pulled out those last bursting blooms of pleasure as though lighting fireworks in Jim’s gut, and Jim found his awareness restricted to the hot breath on his neck and the full-body shudder that passed through him as he groaned.
Spock’s hips rolled again, as if unconsciously seeking the pressure between them, and Jim melted into the gentle pull of Spock’s hand and the hard planes of his body. He laid back boneless against his lover, his chest heaving under Spock’s touch. In spite of the cold of the world outside their slight cover, he felt sweat prickling his hairline, and he swallowed, trying to regain himself.
Before he managed to raise his head, Spock found his lips with his own, pressing an angled kiss against him. Jim brought his hand to Spock’s head and forced him closer, twisting at the waist. He nipped at Spock’s lip, cupped Spock’s jaw, licked into his mouth, as desperate for this touch as he had been for his own release.
The kiss distracted Spock’s hands, and soon they were in Jim’s hair, cum-slicked fingers curling into it, pulling him closer as Jim turned fully around. Stradling Spock’s legs, he settled himself on Spock’s lap and pressed down onto the bulge in Spock’s trousers, prompting a whimper so transparent and obscene that it almost made Jim forget he’d cum already. When he managed to pull away, he was still breathless, still high on bliss and relief and he wanted Spock to feel this if Spock would let himself feel it.
“Spock,” he whispered against Spock’s lips, opening his eyes to see the barest light licking the peaks of Spock’s cheeks and shining against his wide pupils. “That was--” he didn’t have words to finish. What words could possibly finish?
“Acceptable?” Spock asked, a tic of nerves in his tone, and Jim huffed a disbelieving laugh, pulling him back in and devouring his mouth, needily licking between his lips. He managed to break away again, if only because he could feel Spock’s hips hitching slightly with each roll of Jim’s own, chasing his own release.
“Can I touch you?” Jim asked, his hand trailing down Spock’s chest to his abdomen and, finally, to the bulge in Spock’s trousers, which he teased just slightly with his fingertips.
Shuddering again, Spock let out a breath. “I -- I do not know,” he said. Jim strained to see his face in the dim light, but it was far too dark now to decipher that shadowed expression.
“Do you want to do it yourself?” Jim asked quietly, stroking Spock’s cheek with his thumb, trying to tell him that it was okay if that’s what he wanted.
“Myself?” There was a kind of numb confusion in Spock’s voice.
“Yes,” Jim said. “I won’t touch you if you aren’t ready, sweetheart. It’s okay.”
Spock tilted his lips against the palm of Jim’s hand. He seemed to steady himself as silence fell between them, and Jim could almost feel Spock’s gears working, weighing his obvious arousal and the need for relief with the fear of vulnerability. “I believe that would be satisfactory,” he finally said.
“Alright,” Jim answered with a little reassuring smile he knew Spock couldn’t see. He moved back on Spock’s outstretched legs to give his lover room, and then he felt Spock’s movement, heard the zipper pull. Still cloudy with afterglow, he tried not to think of Spock doing to himself what he’d done to Jim mere moments ago.
“Have you done this before?” Jim asked, pressing a kiss to Spock’s forehead as Spock breathed, forced steady breaths, as Jim felt the ripple of movement through his body.
“Yes, though never with -- with someone watching,” Spock said. Jim brought his hands to Spock’s shoulders, rubbing him through the fabric as if warming him, though the touch was meant to soothe any lingering nerves. Careful not to upset the rhythm of Spock’s hand, Jim leaned forward, nuzzling into Spock’s neck and kissing him gently, as Spock had done to him. “Do you ever think about me?” he asked, voice low, pleased when he heard a whine caught in Spock’s throat.
“Yes,” Spock said, decidedly more strained, and Jim could hear the wet slide of skin-on-skin, as though Spock were already dripping. Was he already dripping?
Jim wanted so badly to feel him, but he restrained himself, bringing his hands back to Spock’s jaw and pulling him up into a kiss. Spock let out a sound into Jim’s mouth, the pace of his hand increasing. And though Jim wouldn’t be able to cum again for a while, he felt tendrils of renewed arousal snaking through him. Spock had touched himself before, thinking of Jim .
Jim had vowed to wait as long as Spock wanted to have sex, but he knew he needed that affirmation of Spock’s attraction. And he had it, right here, gasping against his lips.
“Jim,” Spock said, breaking their kiss. He brought a hand to Jim’s hand and pulled it from his face, bringing it to his cock. Jim laid his own grip over Spock’s fingers, tugging with him from base to tip and down again, biting his lip.
“Spock, baby--”
And then Spock pulled his hand out from under Jim’s, closing Jim’s fist around him. Jim stopped moving, trying to meet Spock’s eyes in the darkness.
“You’re sure?” Jim asked, a hand on Spock’s shoulder now to steady himself as Spock’s own hands came to Jim’s tunic.
“Please,” Spock said, and Jim thumbed at the twin ridges at Spock’s head, taking in a shaky breath, establishing a new pace. Spock was dripping so wet down his length Jim wondered that he hadn’t already cum, but he could tell by the little noises Spock’s closed lips couldn’t contain that he was close.
“I love you,” Jim whispered, tightening his fist and pulling faster, harder. “I love you, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Hands tugged Jim forward, and Spock buried his head in Jim’s tunic, a cry wrenching itself from Spock’s lungs as his hips jerked up and he came over Jim’s fingers. Jim pulled him through the climax with one hand cradling the back of his head, pulled him through the shockwaves that wracked him, definitely hard again now with Spock’s voice echoing off the claustrophobic walls, with the feeling of his cock throbbing in Jim’s hold. He’d wanted this for so long -- not just the months they’d been together but years -- an infinity of pent-up desires, and now Spock was shuddering against him, clinging to him as though he didn’t know what would happen to him if he let go.
Jim settled back after a moment, releasing Spock so he could rub up and down his arms and shoulders, as if trying to smoothe out the tremble.
And though Jim could hardly see him he knew this moment would be burned into his memory forever, the sound of his lover slowly regaining the use of his lungs, the feeling of hot cum on his fingers where it spread along Spock’s tunic, the heat that had grown nearly suffocating under their blanket. And Spock, releasing his vice grip on Jim’s shirt with fingers shaking from nerves or exertion or excitement, his eyes glinting with ember in the brief light.
Before that fog of pleasure cleared, Spock pulled Jim in once again, kissing him clumsily, and Jim raised his hands to Spock’s to brush their fingers together -- filthy as their uniforms would be. He didn’t know how they were going to manage to clean themselves up before beaming back to the ship, but he supposed no one would be surprised if they knew what had happened.
At least, no one would be as surprised as Jim was.
When Spock pulled away from the kiss and his head fell back against the wall, Jim chuckled, tucking Spock’s spent cock back into his briefs. “You okay?” he asked, though he could feel the spent tension and limp satisfaction in Spock’s body underneath him.
“Yes,” Spock managed to whisper. Jim smiled, straightening out his own clothes and attempting to will his new erection away.
In the last of the dying light, he watched Spock’s chest heave, watched his adam’s apple lift and fall with a hard swallow, watched his shining lips part. And when the glow faded entirely and they were left in darkness, he watched him still, as though he could actually see him in the shadow.
“Do you remember,” Jim began, settling fully into Spock’s lap and edging forward. “The fourth time we got stuck in a cave together?”
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could hear Spock’s eyes roll. “Jim--”
“We were all snuggled up and I started stroking your hands, remember? Then out of nowhere you just shoved your hand down my pants and--”
“Jim. That happened mere minutes ago. I have not forgotten.”
Jim laughed, moving closer, nuzzling into Spock’s chest as Spock’s arms came around him once again, holding him at his waist. “I love you,” Jim said again. He knew Spock knew, and he knew Spock felt the same, but he also knew it may be a long time before Spock could say those words to him.
But Spock held him close and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, and Jim also knew he would wait a lifetime for Spock if he had to. However long it took to know him fully, to have him fully.
And if they happened to get caught in a cave together again sometime, well, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.