Chapter Text
Slow tides of jazz rolled through the grand open area. Gentle strums of the harp paired with the incandescence of hanging pendant lights lulled James into the evening. The dining hall of Starbase One was remarkably similar to Jim’s favourite bar in San Francisco. Over the last hour, he and Bones had caught up over celebratory drinks and birthday wishes; Jim's twenty-sixth, to be exact.
James had cradled his whiskey on the rocks for the better half of the last hour, occasionally lifting the glass to his lips only to be met with the chill of melting ice.
"So," Bones beamed, downing the last of his whiskey neat — Tennessee Whiskey was Bones’ favourite.
"How much longer is your shore leave?"
"About a fortnight." Jim flashed his brows.
Bones nodded, rolling his glass between his thumb and forefinger. Now empty, the glass made a sharp clack sound as Bones placed it on the marble counter top.
"I've got another six days," he said before pulling his shoulders back with a soft grunt. Jim smirked, noting the discomfort of the barstools they'd been on for the past forty-five minutes.
"How's the Farragut?"
Jim’s brows lifted again. "It's my first time working this close with a Captain. It's exhilarating as much as it is terrifying." He paused, tilting his glass to watch the ice slide from wall to wall. His next words carried a certain weight. "I’m worried I'll make the wrong call."
"Everyone screws up, Jim. There's somethin' about humans that makes that an unavoidable fact." Bones lifted his finger for the bartender. Jim didn't argue with him, but the pressure remained.
Bones caught him mid thought and elbowed him. "Still seeing that girl? What was her name..?" Bones narrowed his periwinkle eyes, looking up toward the ceiling as though he’d find her name there.
Jim shook his head. "Didn't work out with Chantelle." That was the simplest answer.
"Mhm," Bones took a sip of his newly filled glass. There was no judgement, just quiet consideration. "She wasn’t right for you anyways,” the doctor shrugged lightly. “Excitement mixed with consistency is what you crave.”
James grinned — Bones knew him so well — he was no doubt intrigued. “What are you suggesting?”
“How about that ‘friend,’” Bones used his fingers to accentuate the quote, “of yours from the Academy. You two had a pretty little thing going for a while”
A dry laugh escaped Jim. “What? No way. We shouldn’t go there,” James was trying and failing not to sound as queasy as he was. Jim brought his hand down to cradle his abdomen as his stomach clenched — either from the whiskey or the mention of Spock. Probably both.
“Shouldn’t or won’t?”
It was an impossibility.
Ever since their Academy days their relationship had been purely physical. It was unpredictable and somehow reliable. It didn’t matter where or when, one of them would always reach out to the other eventually with the proposition of sex. That’s how it had been until six months ago when James had started dating Chantelle. Spock fell off the face of the final frontier after that.
“Semantics!”
“You’ve never told me his name,” Bones responded hastily with a cheeky glint in his eye.
“There are so many reasons for that.”
“Right. And are you talking again? I mean, after Chantelle.”
“Now you're pushing it.”
"What?" Bones chuckled. "I can't ask about him now?"
Jim laughed sharply. "I think you've just about used up your question tokens for the night."
With a shake of his head, Bones let out a slow breath from rounded cheeks, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. Jim knew he wouldn't push it any further. Bones was quick to give his opinion and rarely backtracked.
When James peered over at Bones whose sullen eyes were encircled by frown lines that had only gotten deeper over the last year, it was dawning on him how lonely the southern doctor must’ve been. Focussing on work was his only outlet these days. Since his divorce he’d plunged himself into inventing a surgical procedure.
"Hey, sorry to hear about the divorce," Jim said, effortlessly switching subjects like the pro that he was.
Bones let out a rough laugh into his glass. "Yeah, so am I." He shrugged it off. “That neural tissue is keeping me company.”
They shared a quiet moment after that. Sipping at their glasses and admiring the hazy atmosphere.
When a notification from Jim’s PADD pinged, there was a sense of hope that welled in Jim’s chest. His heart might’ve been beating a little too excitedly over the potentiality of a hookup.
It was just a matter of getting laid on his birthday.
Was what he was telling himself.
Either way, once they saw each other, it would become obvious to him the type of relationship they had. He glanced at the holographic pager before him. Jim’s message from three hours ago as he’d first docked at Starbase One had been responded to.
JTK: STARBASE 1, MEET UP?
STS: TIME AND PLACE…
James eagerly keyed his response.
JTK: ASAP, QUARTERS DECK 71 ROOM 3002
STS: I CAN BE THERE IN 2 HOURS
STS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY J
James rolled his eyes at Spock’s use of his nickname ‘J’. He didn't know why he smiled so ridiculously when he received that message. They definitely weren’t dating. But Spock had remembered his birthday.
Jim was giddy as he gave Bones a vigorous shove to the bicep. “I have to go. I trust you’ll stagger to your quarters well spent and safe?”
Bones produced a guttural laugh. “Assuming your ‘friend’ has heard about your breakup?”
“If he hasn’t, then he’s about to.” James shook his head with delight. “Good night Bones!”
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Excitement mingled with Jim’s lingering sense of dread; the two emotions clashed until they became indecipherable. His stomach fluttered. The unease lodged itself deep in his psyche, heavy and persistent. A light battering of his pulse throbbed in his ears. His palms were clammier than his graduation day.
This was the first time he’d seen Spock in seven months.
“Happy Birthday Jay.”
The heat crawling up his neck betrayed him. Jim loved when Spock called him ‘Jay.’ “Thank you.”
“I’m assuming you and Chantelle have broken up,” Spock said idly, unbuckling his black trousers. Spock had been so casual when the words slipped from his tongue. The subject matter had definitely struck a nerve for Jim. Way to ruin a nice moment.
“I was commissioned on the USS Farragut.” While the statement reigned true, it hardly served as adequate reasoning. “We were never that serious,” he flicked his wrist dismissively.
“Serious enough,” Spock responded sharply, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.
Yes, serious enough for James to carelessly sever their contact. A by-product of Jim’s reckless behaviour was the resentment that had months of radio silence to brew.
Spock’s distasteful remark crackled then dissipated into the air between them. James was hardly wanting to stipulate any further on his failed love affair. Instead, he shuffled awkwardly at the end of the bed, trying to kick off his shoes.
They undressed mechanically, having done this countless times before. The routine was deeply ingrained in them both; muscle memory.
Spock was stiff to undress and rigid as he brought his mouth down on Jim’s for the first time that night.
Spock propped a knee between Jim's thighs, cupping his face in warm hands. When their bare skin grazed, the familiarity flooded in. Spock’s kiss was immaculate and controlled. Somehow working Jim up every time. His tongue teased his lips open. James panted into Spock’s hot open mouth. James was hardly containing his swell of desire as it overflowed. Whining slightly he broke away to say, “have you been with anyone recently?”
James ignored the fluttering of his heart as the words tumbled from his mouth. A quiet sense of trespass tugged at him, as though he were venturing where he didn’t belong. They’d never explicitly named the parameters of their arrangement. They’d only covered two bases:
No feelings.
Anonymity.
“Irrelevant…” Spock trailed off decisively. Syrupy, saccharine eyes searched Jim’s. Maybe for some indication on how to proceed. “No. I have only ever been with you.” Spock’s voice was harsh with guttural inflection.
Fuck. Jim was achingly hard. How could that turn him on so much? Spock didn’t belong to him.
Spock’s words created an enticing illusion of possession.
“Spock,” his urgent voice rasped as he clutched at Spock's hair, pulling him down, down, down. Spock hovered above Jim, hips tilting neatly between his thighs — evidence of his arousal pulsing between his legs. He couldn't handle Spock’s hard stare any longer, conscious that he was hardly a vision of composure, breath heavy and cheeks flushed beneath his Vulcan counterpart. He wanted to tear his eyes away and hide his face, but he was captured. Suspended in the moment.
Hot hands were travelling up his sides, searing his skin with every inch they grazed. Spock’s fingers glided over his rippling abdomen. “Have you been working out?”
Jim bit his lip, flushing, either out of embarrassment or because Spock had started rolling his nipples between thumb and forefinger.
“Work has been demanding.” His voice was hoarse and drawn out.
“I’m about to be demanding if you don’t touch me,” Spock instructed. James had missed this.
Spock’s authority.
His decisiveness.
James unfurled his fingers from the sheets he hadn’t realised he’d been clutching. He brought his hands to Spock’s chest. “I’d like to see you in your uniform. If only to peel it off of you slowly.”
James let the thought of Spock in his own uniform invade his imagination. Even as his peripheral was consumed by Spock’s bare chest. His fingers travelled lower, lower, until they tentatively grabbed hold of Spock’s excitement. Spock’s cock flexed in his palm. They cursed in unison. Voices breathy.
“Your hand has always been so soft,” Spock cooed beside Jim’s ear. James knew, as goosebumps littered his skin, that he was in danger.
His own cock, neglected and throbbing, bobbed against Spock’s V section. Spock’s eyes darkened, peering down to where James’ hand was stroking him fervently and slow. He grasped for Jim’s cock, teasing his member and slipping a thumb over his quivering slit.
James grit his teeth and arched his back. His head fell heavily against the pillow, golden hair all mussed up. Jim’s mouth was open for the taking. Spock’s hot breath mingled with his own, breathing harshly into one another. Their pace was increasing simultaneously and James felt the spike of a climax wrapping itself tightly in his core. “Wait, wait—”
He clutched Spock’s wrist desperately trying to stop him. Spock yanked away urgently, leaving Jim's cock sensitive and aching. James sighed and kissed Spock’s furrowed brow.
“Together,” he muttered against Spock’s lips.
He rubbed his cock on the underside of Spock’s. The size difference was obscene. “James, James, James.” His name was reduced to vocal fry.
Jim had sworn Spock had not said his name like this since the first time they’d slept together. It had always been ‘Jay’.
Spock’s large fist curled over Jim’s fingers and stroked their cocks together. James had felt his impulse to cum settle down while Spock was only working himself up. He pressed his head against Jim’s eyes dark as he muttered Jim’s name between gritted teeth. Spock, thighs trembling, midsection twitching, toes curling, shot his load over Jim’s abdomen. The viscous clear fluid pooled in the creases of Jim’s muscles as they tensed. James' head fell heavy against the plush white pillow beneath him. “Fuck.”
Catching his breath, he reached upward to cradle Spock’s head against his shoulder, fingers crawling tentatively into his short black hair.
Spock’s recoil was profound. He hesitantly lumbered upward onto his knees. Spock’s nails bit into the soft skin of his hips. His flesh yielded. The sting was dull and drowned out by his other senses.
James could have protested — Spock swiftly guided him onto his knees — only he hadn’t had time to utter a word before Spock’s fingers had plunged into his mouth. They stirred his tongue. James drooled senselessly, trying his hardest to wrap his plump lips around Spock’s knuckles.
His toes gripped the sheets, bracing him as Spock docked his cock between his arsecheeks. James puckered. Spock was slick, knob slippery as it teased his entrance.
“Did you miss it?”
James missed it all.
“Your cock?”
“Yes, my cock.”
Spock’s knob breached Jim’s entrance.
“Did you miss my cock, Jay?”
“Fuck. Yes. Yes I missed your cock. Now please—”
James rocked back onto Spock, prompting him to slip further. Deeper.
The tingling sensation only lasted a short moment before Spock retreated. “You want it?”
Tears brimming in his eyes had started to burn. James blinked them back. “Yes,” his voice quaked. “Spock. Give it to me.”
The first thrust was messy and impatient. Generously, Spock filled Jim as far as he could before feeling resistance deep inside of Jim’s crevice. Spock fluidly reached around to press against Jim’s v-section. James choked out some inaudible profanity as the pulse of Spock’s cock permeated against his quivering walls.
James clenched his thighs together, bracing himself as Spock rocked back. Spock’s hand skimmed his skin until it curled around his fist. “Here. Touch yourself,” Spock prompted Jim to wrap his sweaty palm around his cock. “Like this.”
The Vulcan demonstrated at first with a slow, deliberate pace that matched the sway of his hips. With one last gentle squeeze, he let him go.
It didn’t take long for Spock to start plunging into Jim’s depths with a fervor that’d clearly been carefully controlled up until now. The urgent thrusts forced shudders up Jim’s spine. They were losing their sense to hold back as Spock’s hand grasped his neck. Jim’s pulse was erratic. He knew Spock could feel hammering against the concise pressure of his finger tips.
Warmth spread where Spock’s mouth conquered his shoulder. The burning sensation of Spock marking him was familiar in a way James hadn’t realised he’d been yearning for. His teeth sunk into his skin. And James cried out, pushing back instinctively onto Spock’s cock.
Everything about this was by Spock’s design. “Don't stop.”
Spock’s mouth suckled and marked Jim’s neck. James continued to ride Spock. Spock’s cock prodded Jim’s prostate ruthlessly. Once Spock had realised he’d been rutting against it, he aimed solely for James’ most sensitive spot. James clutched the sheets. Clenching his eyes and nearly seeing stars, he let himself spill over. His orgasm crashed over him in waves. He was reduced to a shivering, shaking mess as Spock fucked him through his peak.
They slowed, Spock pulling out gently. That’s when Jim felt Spock’s load splutter over his back. Jim quivered as the warm viscous fluid trickled down his vertebrae.
For as long as they’d known each other, Spock had never once cum inside of Jim. To begin with, he wasn’t so conscious of it. Over time, it had become an expectation. James took Spock into his mouth more frequently. It was how he had finished Spock off the last time they’d seen each other, before Chantelle, before the Farragut. He’d looked up at Spock with his shimmering blue eyes and coaxed Spock to cum for him. Spock had muttered something in his native Vulcan tongue then, as he pushed himself to the back of Jim’s throat. They didn’t break eye contact through it all.
James thought about those Vulcan words and what they might’ve meant over the last few months, even as he’d been with Chantelle. He wanted to ask now. But held his tongue. They were both suffering the tremors of post orgasm. James couldn’t afford to say anything else that blurred the lines.
Once Spock had dressed himself, he picked up the PADD James left on the bedside table. He interacted with the controls for a moment before facing it towards James. “Here. These are the details of my quarters on the USS Enterprise. If you’re going to drop in. Hail my frequencies here.”
“Oh.”
Sneaking around aboard a federation ship would definitely be riskier than their Academy days and a level up from meeting in bars and hotels. Jim’s brows furrowed.
“Sure. I can do that.”
“Good. I will look forward to it.” Spock’s fond inclination showed in his ever so expressive tilt of the head followed by a quirk of the brow.
James was struggling to keep up. Everything was unfolding before his eyes. Spock was perhaps the most efficient man James knew. And Spock was completely scrambling his brain. “Good night,” the words slipped idly from his mouth. Spock was already at the door.
“Until we meet again, prosper.”
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To be continued…