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He and Spock had already reviewed the details of their next mission and discussed the colonists' chances for success on their new planet, but Jim couldn't quite bring himself to return to his own quarters. Something had been eating at him ever since they left orbit around Omicron Ceti III. He rubbed at his chin and stared at Spock's desk. "Spock, when you said that for the first time you were happy--did you mean it? You've always seemed to like your post."
There was a pause. "Do not trouble yourself, Captain," Spock said, sounding startled. "I am content with my position on the Enterprise--more content than I have been at any other era of my life." He shifted, clearing his throat. "I merely meant that, for the first time in my life, I was able to interact with other people without the burden of a divided consciousness or a divided will, and that, no longer divided from myself, I no longer felt myself divided from them. To use the colonists' word, I belonged."
Jim stared at Spock, who looked perfectly composed and detached and not at all as if he had suddenly gone insane. "You belong here, Spock. I don't know what this nonsense is about a divided consciousness, but--"
Spock's eyes narrowed. Maybe not so detached after all, then. "Naturally you do not, Captain. It is a singular experience, as if my Vulcan half were forever scrutinizing my human half, and vice versa. Each emotion is logically analyzed, and each analysis the subject of doubt and anxiety."
Jim blinked. "That's--that's just ordinary, Spock."
Spock frowned.
"You don't--really think that that's because you're half-Vulcan?" He didn't wait for an answer. "What you're talking about--what you felt under the influence of the spores--that isn't happiness, Spock, that's intoxication. I felt that belonging too, remember--and I wanted it. Oh, how I wanted it! It was glorious and I wanted to feel it all the time. I wanted to be free of the restless searching, the thirst for something more. But that part of me--well, it's part of me, Spock. It makes me the man I am. I saw my medals, and I got angry. I tried to leave the ship, and I got angry. Because there was something I wanted more than happiness."
"The Enterprise."
"No, Spock! Myself. The way you acted on Omicron Ceti III--that wasn't you."
Spock resettled his shoulders--there was something defeated about the gesture. "No," he acknowledged. "It seemed preferable."
"Preferable to who?" Jim demanded. "Not to anyone on this ship."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "No? It was only last week Dr. McCoy said he might like me if I mellowed a little."
Jim waved an arm dismissively. "Yes, and you should have seen his face when you changed! He wasn't pleased."
Spock clearly dismissed that as too unexpected to be addressed. "Be that as it may, Captain, the things you said to me--you must know I have been hearing them all my life, among Vulcans as well as humans. Of course there is no direct Vulcan equivalent of 'circus,' but the sentiment is the same."
"You haven't heard anything like that on board the Enterprise, have you?" Jim asked sharply.
Spock met his eyes blandly. "I did today."
"But Spock, that was all nonsense, it was just to make you angry!"
"And why did you think those things would make me angry?"
"Anybody would be angry at being called a freak, or a computer! I've seen how you react when people criticize your Vulcan side. I know it's something you're proud of."
Spock tilted his head. "Proud of? Yes, but that is not why it made me angry to be called a freak, or a computer who took after his father. You must know that." He sounded like Professor Tarif at the Academy, insisting that Jim's test scores were low because he refused to apply himself and not because pseudo-Riemannian manifolds made no damn sense. "Naturally my Vulcan half is aware that that type of prejudice is illogical, but my human half is doubtful. You, Captain, have seen me in a greater variety of situations and emotional states than anyone else; furthermore, your good opinion is of value to me, both professionally and personally. If those were your true opinions, that would indicate that--"
Jim's jaw dropped. "My true opinions--Spock!"
Spock was silent.
"Don't be ridiculous, Spock," he blustered, feeling a more awful guilt than he had over the last three crew casualties combined and despising himself even more for that. "I wouldn't have said any of it if I'd thought there was a grain of truth in it. I like you the way you are, you must know that. I need you the way you are." Jim chuckled mirthlessly. "It doesn't sound as pretty coming from me as it did from Miss Kalomi, does it? But I need you."
Spock took a step backwards. "I agree that in my ordinary frame of mind I make a more efficient first officer, but--"
"Dammit, Spock, I said I needed you. I don't mean Starfleet or Captain Kirk, I need you--me, Jim."
Spock stared at him blankly. "For what purpose?"
Jim gave him a crooked smile. "I don't know, Spock. I suppose you make me--happy."
Spock made a frustrated sound, as if Jim were a failed experiment. "I make you happy," he repeated skeptically--almost contemptuously.
Jim clenched his fists. "Dammit, Spock, if you don't believe me--I'll prove it to you! That--Vulcan mind merge you do--if you want to know what I think of you, I'll show you."
Spock tensed. "Sharing thoughts is not something to be undertaken lightly," he said reprovingly.
"I don't undertake it lightly." He took a step closer. Spock watched him warily, as if afraid he would bite. "I hurt you, Spock. Let me make it up to you."
Spock was silent for long moments--but in the end, his curiosity won out, just as Jim had known it would. "A full fusion of our minds is unnecessary for this purpose," he said reluctantly. "You have a strong will, and if I submerge myself in you too deeply, I may have difficulty separating us again. I will attempt to read your thoughts."
"Go ahead, Spock."
Spock stepped in, raising his hand. It hovered in the air near Jim's face, close enough that he could feel its warmth, and it hit him what else Spock was about to find out. He opened his mouth to back out, and Spock's fingers touched his face.
He was abruptly, roaringly aroused. Words were farther away than Iowa, and he wanted this desperately.
"Our minds are melding," Spock said, voice warm and rough like his fingertips. "Our minds are one."
He felt it, then--a gentle brush against his mind, frightening and comfortable at the same time. Spock, he thought. There was an answering rush of--something, and he forgot what happened after that.
###
He came to with nothing more than a lingering impression--wry tenderness, and something like a child's maze without a solution, right angles and clean lines shaping something too large and tangled to be understood. "Spock? Was that--"
Spock was regarding him from a few feet away, looking stunned. "You like to watch me when I am bent over my viewscreen."
Jim rubbed his palms together nervously. "Yes, I--like to watch you when you're bent over your viewscreen." Of course he did. He had eyes, and Spock was bent over that thing for hours every day.
"You dislike that I am stronger than you."
He cleared his throat. "Part of me does, yes."
"You're afraid I might try to assume command. You fear that I'm better suited for it than you are."
His throat went dry. "Yes."
Spock frowned. "You know that I would never wish to take your command, captain."
"Yes, Spock, I do know it. And yet the fear remains. It doesn't mean I don't"--love you. They both knew it, Spock must have seen it in the meld, but he couldn't say it. He couldn't do anything that might make Spock think he wanted more than Spock believed himself capable of giving. "--Trust you."
"I see. The divided consciousness."
Victory swamped his unease. He grinned, clapping Spock on the shoulder and shaking him. "Yes, Spock, precisely!"
Spock looked at Jim's hand. "I could never put my arms around her," he said slowly. "I wanted to, and I couldn't."
Jim frowned. "You've never--struck me as someone who shied away from physical contact, Spock. Did you want to, or did you just want to want to?"
"You are correct, Captain." Spock took a step towards him in a way that reminded him of a great cat. "I have never shied away from physical contact with you. I don't know why I didn't realize it before."
Jim broke out in a sweat. "Spock--" He held up a warning hand--they were close enough that it brushed Spock's chest. "Please. Don't do this because you're trying to prove something to me, or yourself. If you don't want it, badly--"
Spock leaned in, hands going to the wall on either side of Jim's head. "I want it," he said hoarsely in Jim's ear. "Very badly."
Jim's mouth fell open and his head hit the wall. "Spock." Trying to ground himself, he brought his hands up to grip the front of Spock's tunic, but he could feel the heat of Spock's stomach through his clothes; it was like touching a live wire. "What do you want, Spock? Ask for it and it's yours, just--"
Spock stood very still. "You asked if Miss Kalomi knew what she was getting." Jim marvelled again at his control, that he could somehow make that note of dispassionate calm with his ragged voice.
"I'm not sure you hit me hard enough, Spock. Perhaps you'd better have another go."
Spock took a deep breath. "I am quite sure she didn't know. She could not even locate my heart. But do you, Jim?"
Spock's heart was beating under Jim's left fist, curled at the bottom of Spock's ribcage. "You know what I think of you," Jim said fiercely. "You saw it. Am I wrong?"
"I would have to be a pathological narcissist to agree with your assessment of me. You were closer to the truth when you called me printed circuits and memory banks. That is what I have to offer. But if you want it, it is yours."
His. He felt a thrilling protectiveness, a twisted satisfaction that what he had hurt was his to heal. "You have a heart, Spock."
"Yes. One that is a different color than your own, which beats at a different rate at a different place in my chest."
Jim shrugged, his shoulders brushing Spock's wrists. "So long as it's beating, Spock, that's good enough for me."
Spock's stomach muscles relaxed. "If that is your standard, Captain, it answers a great many questions about your personal life."
"You know what I meant."
"Perhaps," Spock said in that way that meant yes, and straightened to look Jim in the face. "You asked what I--" He broke off, skin greener than usual, and Jim realized with a start what that meant.
"You're blushing, Spock."
Spock gave him an affronted look. "Certainly not. Increased blood flow is an ordinary effect of arousal."
Jim would have argued it further, but "arousal" sent his eyes right to the front of Spock's pants, and--he was aroused all right. Jim reached for his hips, and Spock stepped away. He made a frustrated sound, almost a growl, and Spock closed his eyes.
"You asked what I wanted, Captain. You are considerably more experienced than I in sexual matters. It is illogical to resist fact, but--"
"Yes, Spock?" he said as patiently as he could.
"If there is something you have never done, that would help to balance the scales."
"I've never made love to you, Spock."
Spock only waited patiently.
Jim tried to think through his impatience and lust. Spock hated not knowing things, and he found biology and emotion equally embarrassing. It was only fair that Jim offer something in return. "I've never--allowed anyone to penetrate me," he said at last. "I don't--well, I don't like to relinquish control."
Spock tilted his head. "You equate enveloping with submission. Fascinating."
The differences between Vulcan and human mating psychologies could wait for another day. Jim shrugged.
"Perhaps my request was counterproductive. I have no wish to engage you in an act you find distasteful."
He smiled. "I think I can turn command over to you, Mr. Spock." It was true. That was why his fear of Spock's mutiny was so fundamental, after all--because he did trust him. He was safe with Spock. His ship was safe with Spock. He knew those things, and if they were false there could be no help anywhere, and no safety.
Spock bowed his head. "I am honored by your trust."
The moment stretched awkwardly. "Well, let's get on with it then," Jim said at last.
Spock looked up, eyebrow quirking in familiar, affectionate amusement. "Certainly, Captain. If you would be so kind as to remove your clothes and lie down in my bed."
It hadn't been a joke: he'd never made love to Spock before. This was a new world, and successfully mapping it was vital. Now it looked like Spock wasn't even going to give him familiar markers to guide him--no kisses, no silence, no passionate haste.
Spock began methodically to remove his uniform. He folded his tunic neatly and placed it on a nearby stool. Then he sat down on his bed and removed his boots. Jim had seen Spock take off his boots before, a hundred times, but this time he was taking them off so he could go to bed with Jim. Spock is going to fuck me, he thought, and sat on the other side to remove his own boots. He had some trouble, because his hands were shaking.
"Allow me, Captain." The mattress shifted as Spock rose. Then he knelt before Jim in his t-shirt, black pants, and bare feet, and took hold of Jim's boot.
Jim automatically braced himself on the bed and pointed his toes, but he was focused entirely on the top of Spock's head, the tips of Spock's ears, the corded muscles standing out in his rounded shoulders as he tugged. This was--something he could get used to. Something he would never get used to. I love you, Spock, he thought again.
His boots dealt with, Jim quickly removed the rest of his clothes, watching Spock out of the corner of his eye.
"Lie down," Spock said, stark naked and not seeming self-conscious in the least. Jim obeyed, and Spock knelt between his legs and put his hands on Jim's body.
He'd always heard it whispered--Vulcans don't kiss--but he'd thought it was just one more stupid rumor, like that Spock's cock was twice as large as normal or that they fed on the brains of their fallen enemies. But Spock didn't kiss him. He moved his hands over Jim's skin instead as if gathering up the knowledge of him. His fingers slid over Jim's face in an echo of their meld, and Jim shivered with remembered intimacy.
Spock had kissed Leila. He hadn't done this with her--he hadn't shown her himself. Arching under Spock's hands, Jim felt a fierce triumph. "Spock," he begged, and Spock's hands moved firmly down his stomach and around under his thighs, jerking his legs apart.
He met Spock's gaze with a shock, and Spock said, "Are you certain, Captain?"
"Quite certain, Mr. Spock."
Spock opened the small chest on his headboard and pulled out a small bottle of Somata oil. "The membranes of the human rectum are more delicate than those of Vulcans," he said, carefully spreading oil over the index and middle finger of his right hand. "I will endeavor to apply no more pressure than is appropriate."
Jim swallowed. "I like it when you talk dirty, Mr. Spock."
Spock gave him a puzzled look and started probing at his entrance with slippery fingers.
"It's an earth expression," Jim tried to explain. "You know--oh! Dirty talk. Like, 'I'm going to bend you over your viewscreen and fuck you into next week, and you're going to love it'--" He was loving this. He wasn't sure why he'd resisted it, but he was glad because it meant he could give it to Spock now.
Spock raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. Jim couldn't stop staring because he should have known it would be like this with Spock, but how could he have known? Spock's fingers were inside of him, discovering him, helping him discover himself. He was using the two fingers Vulcans kissed with, it was almost as if Spock's tongue were-- "Is that intended to be arousing? You will have to do better if you wish to make me lose control."
"Hey!" Jim gasped, wriggling indignantly around Spock's fingers. "You think I can't do it? You think I couldn't make you lose control if I wanted to?"
"On the contrary, Captain, I am quite certain you could."
For a moment Jim was struck dumb with the enormity of what that statement must mean to Spock, of how much Spock was trusting him, but then the head of Spock's cock was pushing at his entrance and everything else fled.
"Besides, that is completely implausible," Spock said. "The bridge is never empty."
It was today. The memory pulled and itched like a new scar, but Spock was pushing into him, slow and gentle and undeniably here, undeniably breathing hard despite his ability to carry on a conversation at the same time he was making space for himself inside Jim, sending questing tendrils of pleasure searching restlessly for Jim's heart.
"I have always considered the engine room a more practical spot for illicit dalliance. Computer banks provide excellent cover."
"Did you just say 'illicit dalliance'?" But damn, it was a great idea. He'd be on his knees, the deck vibrating with the ship's breath, Spock's cock in his mouth and the Enterprise's heart beating all around them--
"Mm. I calculate that if I change the angle of penetration by 3.26 degrees, I can increase your level of sensation by a factor of--" The number was drowned out by Jim's shout. "If you exceed 85.3 decibels, the officers in adjacent quarters will be able to hear you through the bulkheads." There was a sheen of sweat on Spock's forehead as he thrust, slower and more gently than Jim thought was probably necessary to avoid injury, but he didn't say anything because it felt marvelous, bright and hot and tranquil all at once. "I am not specifically advocating silence; I merely wish you to be in possession of all the facts."
Spock didn't care if anyone heard them. Oh God.
"Your heart rate is accelerated by a factor of 1.723."
Jim was about to tell him to stop being so damn clinical when he caught the look of wonder on Spock's face. "Yes," he said, wrapping his hands around Spock's arms, tense with the strain of supporting his weight over Jim. "You've really got me going."
Spock shut his eyes and thrust harder, probably by some carefully calculated amount.
Jim shut his eyes too, seeing stars in the blackness. "Touch me. Please, Spock, I need--"
"I am touching you," Spock pointed out drily, and then an oiled hand took his cock in a firm grip. Spock's thrusts didn't match his tugs, but they came together in a complex pattern that Jim couldn't understand but that--
"If this is inexperience, I shudder to think what you'll be able to reduce me to in a few months," he gasped.
"You shall be putty in my hands, Captain," Spock murmured, shocking him.
"God, you--I will be, I already am, you've got me right where you want me--"
"Yes," Spock said. "I do."
"Kiss me," he demanded. "Kiss me, Spock." He yanked Spock down, pressing their mouths together blindly. Spock gasped against his mouth and Jim was reminded what a miracle this was, that they were traveling through an airless void and yet here he and Spock were, breathing each other's air, held together by artifical gravity and a feeling he still didn't dare name aloud. Spock's tongue touched his and Jim came with a roar that no doubt penetrated the decks as well as the bulkheads.
Spock was still for a moment, afterwards, his harsh breathing the only detectable sound. Then he thrust again, still silent but faster now, keeping his rhythm to the very last and then jerking all at once, groaning as if his heart would break. Jim wrapped his arms around him and cradled him through the tremors.
"Spock," he whispered as Spock lay heavy on his chest, "this moment, right now, after release, is the closest thing I have found to a united consciousness."
"Mm," Spock said--mumbled, almost. "I see."
Spock fell asleep after sex? Jim hid a smile. "Do you want me to stay? It's all right if you'd rather--"
Spock rolled off him. "You are welcome to stay if you do not object to being disturbed when I rise for gamma shift. But please do not expect--cuddling."
"Some things are non-negotiable, Spock," Jim said. "Besides, it's a small bed."
Spock rose and went into his head, turning on the water. Jim cleaned himself off with his undershirt and dropped it on the floor. If he was staying, then he wasn't going to stand up.
"Computer," Spock called. "Expand bed to fit two."
The bed rose a little under Jim, and the bottom half slid out from underneath. The bed lowered again and the two halves joined with a click to form a double bed. Spock came and leaned against the partition, still naked, eyebrows raised. "Did you really think I was unaware of that functionality, Captain?"
Jim threw his arms and legs out, spreading over as much of the bed as he could reach and grinning at Spock. "It always works on visitors."
"I am not a visitor," Spock said disdainfully.
Jim grinned wider. "No." He paused. "Spock--are you happy about this?"
Spock considered. "In light of the new data you have presented, Captain, I am forced to conclude that I was happy all along. A distressing error." He climbed into bed, attempting to push Jim to one side while touching him as little as possible.
Jim immediately slung an arm over Spock's chest and a leg over Spock's thighs and pulled him in, burying his face in Spock's neck. "Then how do you feel now?"
Spock heaved a long-suffering sigh and shifted so that Jim's head was on his shoulder and Spock's hand was on the back of his neck. Jim was a little incensed at Spock making him into the girl, but Spock said, "If I were not--'over the moon,' I believe you call it colloquially, I would not be permitting this indignity," and Jim's heart entered zero gravity.
"I generally keep the life support settings at eighty degrees when I sleep," Spock said, pulling the sheets up to cover them.
Ugh. "I'll keep you warm, Spock," he promised.
Spock sighed again, and scritched his fingers through the back of Jim's hair.