Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Human sex designation and presentation are complex. That intricacy increases when one regards gender within the social context of the diversity and complexity of human culture. Humans have a primary and secondary sex.

Primary sex exists on a bimodal spectrum that is lamely termed as the male and female spectrum. Females, in the most basic definition, are the bearers of offspring with a uterus, ovaries, and vulva, and secondary sex characteristics of conspicuous mammary glands. While, males, in the most basic definition, are the inseminators with a penis and testes and secondary sex characteristics of typically underdeveloped inconspicuous mammary glands. There, of course, exist variations beyond these basic definitions.

Secondary sex exists on a trimodal spectrum that is lamely termed as the alpha, beta, and omega spectrum. All omegas, betas, and alphas have a primary sex. Betas do not have mating glands and therefore do not produce the typical omega or alpha pheromone scents.

Betas are the representation of the primary sex designation without added complications of a secondary sex designation. Male betas do not have knots on their penises nor do they experience ruts and female betas do not experience an increase in fertility during estrus, they are both as fertile outside of and during a female beta’s estrus.

Omegas with a primary female sex typically do not experience changes in their phenotypic or hormonal presentation even after the start of puberty. Omegas with a primary male sex can be designated at birth because their penis will be small but present with female reproductive genitals as well. In addition, at the start of puberty, omega males tend to experience a variety of conflicting hormonal experiences. They will experience faux estrus (or heat) every three months (just as omega females do) until sexual maturity at adulthood. Typically, primary male sex hormones prevent the conspicuous growth of mammary glands. Estrus in omegas increases their fertility, and its occurrence is known to others via pheromonal release. Omegas have scent glands in their necks, wrists, pubis, and ankles that release a variety of pheromones and hormones which respond to external and internal stimuli. There, of course, exist variations beyond these basic definitions.

Alphas with a primary male sex typically do not experience changes in their phenotypic or hormonal presentation even after the start of puberty. Alphas with a primary female sex can be designated at birth as alpha because they will have a small penis present with a vulva, and testes, but no uterus or ovaries. In addition, at the start of puberty, female alphas tend to experience a variety of conflicting hormonal experiences. They will experience faux ruts every six months until sexual maturity at adulthood, which will increase the size of their penis and knot (just as alpha males do), all the while primary female sex hormones will cause the conspicuous growth of mammary glands. Ruts in alphas increase their fertility, and its occurrence is known to others via pheromonal release. Alphas have scent glands in their necks, wrists, pubis, and ankles that release a variety of pheromones and hormones which respond to external and internal stimuli. There, of course, exist variations beyond these basic definitions.

The scent gland in the neck of alphas and omegas is also known as the mating gland. A bite from an omega to an alpha (and it must be reciprocated) during an omega’s heat or an alpha’s rut will bind the two together. This prevents any other alphas or omegas from responding to their pheromonal cues if they go into heat or rut. Betas are unable to do this because they lack a particular set of enzymes in their saliva, nor do they have the scent/mating glands for those enzymes to bind to. These mating bites need to be reestablished consistently, though the time to reinitiate is wholly dependent on the couple, and that timing is not fully understood.

Because of the complexities of rut, heat, and mating bites, betas typically do best pairing up with other betas, while alphas and omegas typically are best paired up with their opposite secondary sex. This pair is called a duo. Of course, humans do not necessarily follow these dynamic structures and have developed methods of managing with or without a duo partner.

Gender is as complex as the culture people exist within. Pronouns and gender expression are dependent on linguistic and cultural context, which can only be known through experience, inference, or direct communication. As such, it will not be discussed here.

The Homo sapiens of planet Earth, or Terran as the United Federation of Planets has officially designated, are the only humanoid or vulcanoid species in the Federation with a complex sexual designation system. Historically, being an alpha or omega has limited what an individual could or could not do within their society. At times, it was believed alphas were uncontrollable and aggressive, so they were muzzled to prevent accidental mating when an omega went into estrus in public. Other times, omegas were forced to wear a variety of collar types as they were thought to be demure seducers, encouraging mating bites by manipulating alphas through entering estrus in public. Both have been subjugated by betas or by each other throughout time through stereotypes placed upon the secondary dynamics.

Most of the human population are designated as betas. In the past, betas occurred in equal measure to alpha and omega designations. However, over time, the presentation rate of betas increased. (While there are many evolutionary hypotheses as to why this occurred, they are not worth delving into.)

Presently, there are practically no limits to the paths individuals can take within their society, regardless of primary or secondary sex. There have also been no movements to force individuals to wear muzzles and collars or use medical treatments to manage their biology since First Contact. If humans presently choose to wear muzzles or collars, it is a fashion choice born out of the reclamation of gender/sex expression. The same applies to medical treatments using suppressants and birth control.

Again, there are practically no limitations placed upon any designation. Except in Starfleet. Because alphas and omegas represent less than 10% of the human population combined, Starfleet created a strict policy with the ideology of protecting and preserving the “fragile” secondary sex trinary.

According to Starfleet, research conducted over the past one hundred thirty years has shown that alphas and omegas are capable individuals. However, the stark contrast between them and betas is the fact that they are led more by pheromones and instinct. Because of this caveat, it was suggested that a duo would be more successful in high-stress environments or positions of leadership. This is assumed to be because stress can induce a heat or rut despite regulatory medication, and with a duo, the necessary pheromones are present to balance out the increase in stress. While there are no rules against alphas or omegas becoming captain of a starship or chief of a department, they must have their duo match.

The way Starfleet ensures their alpha or omega officers have their counterparts is through what the cadets in the Academy call Starfleet’s “Dating Service”. Some find the program to be insidious and reinforcing an unnecessarily discriminatory policy. This appears especially true when there are safe contraceptives, heat and rut suppressants to assist with sudden onsets, as well as the fact that there has never been an omega captain in the history of Starfleet.

The Dating Service simply presents cadets and officers with scent tasters of individuals of the opposing designation until there is one that stands out. The program is highly successful at matching well-suited individuals. While unmatched or faced with a Dating Service mismatch, Starfleet service members are free to explore outside of the organization. If they find a match outside of the Dating Service, the decision then must be made to either remain planet-side, join a research colony, or have their mate join them as a civilian on a Starfleet vessel. Until a Starfleet cadet or officer is bonded, they must remain out of positions of leadership and cannot be on exploratory vessels. This allows for all ranks of officers to still gain experience without a higher statistical chance that stress will agitate them or their cycle.

Despite opposition, duos have worked in Starfleet’s favor, and no other outside regulatory body has found the research waning. This program is also helpful for those who manage heats and ruts without pharmaceutical intervention, as it guarantees the individual a partner regardless of romantic connection.

No other organization has dared to take on this policy, finding people’s freedom more important than scent-matching their members.

Society does not find alphas or omegas wanting, but often it seems Starfleet does.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Jim,” a gruff voice whispered.

Said man grumbled and attempted to tug the blanket over his head.

“Jim,” the man tried again, firmer. Without awaiting a response, the man stuck a cloth under Jim’s nose.

“Oh—oh, what is that?” Jim gagged in disgust and turned his head away, still trying to sleep.

“New scent tasters,” the man murmured from where he sat on Jim’s bed.

“No thanks,” Jim muttered. Rather than use his blanket, he opted to cover his face with his arms. "Go away, Leonard."

"It's Leonard now? We're not friends anymore?" Leonard snorted and tugged one of Jim's arms down to shove another test cloth under his nose. “There’s only four this time, and only one is actually new to you.”

Jim coughed and shoved the second one violently away before attempting to do the same to Leonard, but came up short on strength from being half asleep. “Something is wrong with that person, Bones.”

Bones laughed and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.” He placed another under Jim’s nose.

“Fuck, why did you decide torturing me awake with this was a good idea? What did I do to you?” Jim complained and finally peeked his hazel eyes open.

“You didn’t do anything to me, but there is one new one for once,” Leonard hummed.

“Tomorrow is the first day of the fall semester. Why would there be a new one?” Jim grumbled. "Unless it's some late-coming cadet." He shuddered at the thought.

“I don’t know, but it needs to be given to you with ones your system already became acquainted with to make sure your nose isn’t broken,” Leonard explained. Just as he had explained several times before, every semester there were new entries.

Jim flopped on his back and shut his eyes. “Fine, give me the last one so I can go back to sleep.”

Leonard chuffed, amused. “Your wish is my command—your nose is better when you’re not fully cognizant anyway.”

The last one in the physician’s hand was gently pressed to Jim’s nose just as all the others had been. This time, Jim’s eyes shot back open, and his hand reached to shove the taster cloth closer to his nose. Leonard quickly pulled it away with an almost maniacal laugh as Jim sat up to follow the cloth, only for the doctor to push him back. Jim seemed to plead with Leonard, giving him his big hazel eyes and a slightly agape mouth.

“What is that?” Jim asked. Nostrils flared as he attempted to follow the scent that traveled further away. “Who is that?”

“Wait, try this one again first,” Bones said as he shoved number two under Jim’s nose.

“Fuck you, Len! That one is the worst one!” Jim cried and shoved it aside so he could cover his nose and mouth.

“Okay, now this one again?” Leonard asked with a cruel smirk.

He handed Jim the taster cloth rather than put it to the man’s nose, appreciating how excited the man was at the simple offering. Jim looked like a kid in a candy store in the way he stared wide-eyed at the cloth before it was shoved straight to his nose again so he could sniff deeply.

Jim released a low, pleased groan. “Holy fuck where did this guy come from?”

“No idea, but you’ll find out because I’m sure they had the same reaction to your scent—and if not, they’re going to make them try again,” Leonard hummed, practically smug.

The younger man was back to being curled up in his bed, nose still deep in the cloth his fingers clung to. “Whatever, if he rejects me, can I ask for someone to at least bring me a new taste of this every couple of days? I could seriously rub this all over my body.”

“I think that’s the point, Jim.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, good, I caught you during office hours.”

“Chris,” Spock acknowledged as his Captain and faculty supervisor entered, “What do you need?”

The man held up four plastic bags that held cloth scent samplers with a sympathetic smile. “I know I gave you four yesterday—" 

“You have had me do this almost daily since the semester began. I was unaware Starfleet had so many Omegas,” Spock spoke with some annoyance.

“Don’t raise your eyebrow at me. You know just as well as I do, we have the same number of Alphas and Omegas with all scents kept on file. Plus, it’s going to look bad on Starfleet if an Alpha has been the Chief Science Officer on an exploratory mission without a counterpart,” Chris hummed.

“Or maybe this is an opportunity for Starfleet to change their policy?” Spock proposed.

“Well, that is maybe worth perusing in the future, but right now you’re an unmatched Alpha who very recently found out because of a stress-induced rut—“

“Fine, Chris.” Spock held out his hand, and Chris passed the bags before he sat in a chair meant for guests.

Quietly, the Vulcan scrutinized each bag. Then one by one, he pulled the scent-soaked cloth out. Each one seemed worse than the next, and Spock had a difficult time hiding his response. Vulcans were sensitive to smell to begin with, and given Spock’s dual heritage, the olfactory response was hypersensitive to pheromones, more than the average human alpha or Vulcan. By the time Spock had moved onto the last scent taster cloth, the Vulcan had mentally begged that he had finally gone through all options for the rest of time, and the Admiralty would accept his Vulcan betrothal as enough reason to agree he was exempt from the policy. Just as delicately and cautiously as Spock had been with the rest, the Vulcan put the fourth cloth to his nose and froze.

“Fascinating,” Spock said. With slow, deliberate movement, he pulled the cloth from his nose to study it with awe and suspicion.

“Do me a favor, sniff number two again, then that one.” Chris leaned back with his arms crossed and a smug, self-important smile.

Spock eyed Chris with suspicion but did as he was told. The look of disgust became more obvious now that Chris had seen what a match looked like. When Spock returned to the fourth cloth, the Vulcan held it a bit tighter and closer to his nose. Seconds passed, and Spock’s eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth opened to breathe in the scent so it was clearer to his inhuman sinuses.

“Well, this is just perfect! I’ll set up a meeting between you two. I’m glad this is going to work out,” Chris spoke brightly with his hands on his thighs as he stood. He collected the first three bags to leave Spock with his gift. “You can keep that. I was told he held onto yours.”

Spock quickly righted himself, the cloth held between both hands on his desk. Brown eyes opened again to stare up at Chris, wide with curiosity. “You know who this individual is?”

“I had planned to make you two meet eventually. He’s Starfleet legacy, but impressive in his own right. Despite not being allowed on exploratory vessels or dangerous missions, because he is unmatched, he has received several awards of Valor and has risen in rank rapidly. However, despite his high rank, he can’t obtain the positions he would like. I didn’t want you two to find any sort of professional excitement in one another until he was cleared for the sort of space exploration you both intend to do,” Chris explained.

“My question was concerning the anonymity policies,” Spock replied, cloth back to his nose, but eyes serious and fixed on Chris.

The man snorted, “Oh, right. Well, when a prodigy that I’m mentoring has gone through every single scent sample Starfleet and every match-making service outside of the organization has to offer with no luck, only for him to match with my other mentee and favorite Vulcan—”

“I understand, you have been watching our cases closely,” Spock surmised. “What should I prepare for?”

“If you two can stand each other, it is likely that you’ll be recommended to cohabitate. It will help you two—uh—sync cycles,” Chris coughed out.

Spock frowned and pulled the cloth from his nose, simply examining it rather than Chris. “You and Una, what was your matching process like?”

Chris hummed thoughtfully. “She was set up to tutor me through a class I ended up failing. But the moment we got a whiff of each other, it was over. I started courting her, and once we mated the first time, she and I started rising in ranks together ever since.”

“Do you believe a similar situation will occur between me and your other mentee?”

“Honestly, no. I expect that you two will go at each other’s throats before finally giving in to baser instincts—"

“But you thought us professionally compatible?”

“Before you two were scent-compatible,” Christ countered. “It’s a little more complicated now. He wants to be a Captain. And no omega has been Captain before. If he thinks you will attempt to use old-school stereotypes to strong-arm him out of that future, he will very likely concoct a plan to ruin your career and your life. Just like you, he finds this whole Dating Service archaic and unnecessary,” Chris attempted to explain. “So, to put it simply, I am worried that with this added pressure and the dynamic, he is less likely to be professional.”

“Fascinating,” Spock echoed. “Are there any cultural practices I should be aware of before I meet with him?”

Chris shrugged. “There is going to be a detailed message sent to both of you regarding how to best engage with one another—what is acceptable to do or ask.”

“I see, then I shall await those details,” Spock affirmed.

“There’s just one thing, Spock,” Chris began, the anxiety seemed to spill from him.

“Please enlighten me, Captain,” Spock encouraged, though unsure why he had to.

“I mentioned that I courted Una.”

Spock gave a slight nod of his head, “Yes, which I had been led to believe was out of practice because of the often conservative traditional ideology behind it.”

Chris hummed in acknowledgment. “Well, I attempted to court Una, and because she is Illyrian and I had no idea how best to go about it, I bought her these earrings—”

“—Una’s ears are not pierced.”

“Right, and I found that out while receiving a lecture that there was no reason to do something so old school as claiming her with gifts. She thought it was showy and needlessly possessive.” Chris started laughing at the memory, “She eventually understood that it was me reacting in panic rather than an attempt to bring back some out-of-date tradition. I mean, she is the kind of omega that sees wearing muzzles and collars as a fashion that cannot be reclaimed.”

“Why are you telling me this story?” Spock asked because Chris enjoyed giving allegories to Spock.

“Una is not the minority in her opinions, especially among those in Starfleet.”

“Are you alluding that the person I am compatible with is?” Spock asked with furrowed brows. “This does not match with your previous description of his animosity towards the Dating Service.”

“Humans are complex beings, Spock,” Chris reminded.

“Indeed,” Spock agreed with an exhausted sigh. “Will I need to bring a courting gift to the meeting?”

“Oh no, please do not. That wouldn’t make any sense, actually,” Chris huffed a small laugh.

“Well, I do not understand the courting procedure beyond vague commentaries and historical documents. I assumed you were about to provide me with an explanation in tandem with your allegory,” Spock spoke with frustration.

Chris tamped down his humor, “I suppose that would make more sense than teasing you.”

“Do you believe he will expect me to wear a muzzle?” Spock asked.

“No, but if you do want to mate him, he will expect you to court him.”

“Jim, you look pretty enough, you should get going or the car is going to leave without you,” Bones' voice filtered behind where Jim sat in front of a makeshift vanity.

“I mean, you’re right, but isn’t it a little rude looking the way I do?” Jim asked as he ran his fingers along his ears.

Each ear had a unique piercing curation done when he turned eighteen. Many of the piercings were filled with jewelry bought by previous (and current) alphas in Jim’s life, while other piercings were kept occupied with simple gold studs. For the facial and body piercings, he had retained simple silver studs or bars as well, and no alpha had thus far been interested in purchasing jewelry to replace them. Beyond his partially decorated ear and facial piercings, Jim wore a stack of mixed metal square bands on his pinkie. Around his neck rested golden stacked necklaces that contrasted with the black stylized collar he wore. It was a compression-fitted, sleeveless mock neck that covered his trapezius and clavicle, connected to fastenings on the front and back, which rested directly under Jim’s pectorals. These fastenings were hidden by a well-fitted button-down, but the way the strap rested under his pecs only exaggerated their size under the shirt.

Courting jewelry had gone in and out of fashion for centuries. After First Contact, it was rare to see. In the current century, for individuals who could not mask or hide their estrus cycles, it became a way for them to identify others like them. Collars also ensured that if they did not use medical facilities to assist them, there was some level of respect given by those who pursued them. It was old-fashioned in some ways, however, Jim preferred it to the alternative of feeling as though he were hiding a part of himself. Though he supposed wearing a stylized collar contradicted that perspective.

“It’s up to you what you want to wear and who you wear it in front of,” Bones sighed and came up behind Jim, squeezing his shoulders.

“Right, sure, I get that. But if I want it to go well, wouldn’t it be better not to advertise that I’ve been acquainted with alphas long enough to acquire all of this?” Jim asked and looked at Bones through his mirror.

Leonard sighed and squeezed his shoulders again. “I don’t know, but like I said, you look pretty. If you’re really trying to get a rise out of the alpha, I am sure he’ll want to replace everything.”

Jim sucked his lips into his mouth and pressed them flat. “I’m not sure I actually want that.”

“Then you’ll definitely find out if he’s like that by wearing all of that,” Bones hummed with a bob of his head. “Think about it this way, if you weren’t about to go on a date with an alpha the Dating Service found for you, and instead going on a date with an alpha you met and chose on your own, would you overthink how you look as much as you are right now?”

“No, I’d put everything on and just go,” Jim admitted.

“So, you’re nervous because this is more about your career than impressing some alpha.”

“Ye—Yes, you’re right. I am, and shouldn’t I be?” Jim huffed. “I won’t be able to get any further if this goes bad.”

“It won’t go bad, Jim. These matches haven’t gone bad since Starfleet started doing them,” Bones assured. “Come on, you can’t make that car wait any longer, and I’d like some alone time in our apartment.”

“Oh, why? Do you have a hot date?” Jim asked, standing and smoothing his clothes.

“No, I’m practicing enjoying alone time for when you move out,” Leonard smiled a big, toothy grin.

Jim’s eyes and mouth widened, and a laugh spilled out as his lips ended up tilting up. “You actually hate me, don’t you? I have done nothing to you!”

“You’ve done so much, and I can’t wait until I don’t have to call Ben or rush you to a stupid facility,” Bones sighed happily.

“No, you’ll have to call this alpha and then also probably rush me to a facility, but it’ll be worse because we won’t live together,” Jim laughed.

“Don’t destroy my dreams, Jimbo.”

As Spock walked up to the restaurant, he paused briefly to watch as a decorated man seemed to use the reflection of a spoon to examine his appearance. That was no doubt his date. A week after the match had been confirmed, their date had been set up. Typically, these occurred on campus, but given that Christopher Pike had become involved the moment Spock had a match, he understood this would not be considered a typical situation. Though this was not the nicest restaurant in San Francisco, Spock had no choice in where dinner would occur, but he supposed Chris and Starfleet knew what they were doing.

While Spock had ensured he would be on time, which meant being fifteen minutes early for the reservation time, he had not expected his date to show up even earlier than. Concern bubbled for how long the man had been waiting for Spock to show up. Or worse, Spock had received the incorrect time and arrived late. Dispelling his anxieties, Spock walked in and provided his name for the reservation, and the already excitable hostess increased in energy. It was clear the entire staff of the restaurant had been briefed on the situation, which was only made more clear as several employees gave Spock whispered verbalizations in the form of “congratulations” and “good luck” as he walked to the table where his date was already sitting.

“Here is your date, Sir,” the hostess said as she gestured to the empty chair across from his date.

The man from the window looked up with wide hazel eyes from the spoon that he anxiously attempted to put back into its place. Carmel hair had a fresh cut of curtain bangs and an undercut that, when slicked back, would provide an illusion of following Starfleet uniform regulation. The creature was adorned in a mixture of gold jeweled courtship ornamentations and gold studded piercings. In the time Spock took to admire the man and notice that he did not bother to hide the collar he wore under his tightly fitted button-up, he sat down across from him. Spock smoothed down his multilayered jewel-toned wraps with the top layer a dark textured fabric that accentuated his shoulders and leather sleeves. The Vulcan found logic in presenting himself as formally and culturally present as possible. A seemingly appropriate approach given his date expressed his own beliefs through dress as well.

“Thank you for patronaging us tonight, the menu has been set for you, and the chef has been made aware of all allergies, so please simply enjoy tonight,” the waitress continued through Spock’s internal reflection.

“Thank you,” Spock replied.

After he spoke, he could see the tension and then the shiver that rushed through his date’s body. The dark-blond man, not so discreetly, began to sniff the air in an attempt to catch Spock’s scent. The Vulcan wondered if it was instinct or if the man was paranoid. Maybe, he wanted to confirm Spock smelled exactly as the sample cloth had, a logical mood. Spock found that he reciprocated against his own better judgment, so he could likely blame his date’s eagerness on instinct rather than being invasive. Though Spock had no real understanding of what an invasive action to humans was, he simply assumed it was invasive because Vulcans would find it so.

“I am Spock,” the Vulcan introduced, interrupting their scenting.

“James Tiberius Kirk,” Jim replied, “But call me Jim.”

“You are not just an Officer, but Faculty at the Academy, correct?”

“Yes, and you are Lieutenant Commander, Chief Scientific Officer of the USS Enterprise,” Jim replied as if he had practiced the recitation.

Spock tilted his head and raised his brow, “I was not aware my file was shared.”

“It was not, I…found it,” Jim looked out the window in embarrassment.

The man’s tanned skin flushed, and because of a quickened pulse, Jim’s scent wafted thickly despite the collar he wore. Any relaxation Spock had managed became tension while his nostrils flared, filling with the omega’s embarrassed scent.

“You are not on suppressants or birth control?” Spock asked to distract himself while his eyes roamed the gold necklaces that contrasted against the omega’s black collar.

“I forgot Vulcans have an acute sense of smell, but I don’t think my memory is so bad that I forgot that Vulcans have a sex trinary system similar enough to humans that we would be a match?” Jim said, asking an implied question.

“My mother is human,” Spock answered simply, still scrutinizing the omega.

Jim leaned back and smiled slightly; his eyes downcast as if filled with knowledge he should not have. “And you just presented, had a stress-induced rut, and now Admiralty must find you a match before others find out there was an alpha running a division on an exploratory vessel while also being right hand to Captain Pike, who just had his omega match arrested. Which also explains why I haven’t had your scent until now.”

“You have a keen mind, Lieutenant Commander Kirk,” Spock replied, eyes narrowed. “You also dodged my question.”

“I am allergic to standard suppressants and birth control. I can take a specially modified birth control during heats specifically created by my best friend, who is a genius physician—"

“You have shared your heats before?” Spock interrupted.

“Yes,” Jim laughed. “That is normal, you know? Casual sex, heat partners. Why do you think I’m wearing courting jewelry? There are entire medical facilities dedicated to assisting omegas through heats. Especially those that are complex.”

“As I am Vulcan, courting practices are different, and though I asked, human alpha-omega courting practices were not well explained. I did not assume you received those in exchange for sharing your heat,” Spock replied with furrowed brows. “Are you also implying your heats are complex? How so?”

Jim’s eyes widened, and then a more genuine laugh bubbled out of him. “You are so out of your depth. Look, I’ll make all this super easy. Do you remember the procedural outline for the date they sent you?”

“Yes,” Spock replied and blinked with confusion.

“Okay, how about we follow that, you will eventually get an explanation of courting, and after we can go into all my personal medical and sexual history?” Jim asked. “I remember the outline began with introductions, which we did, for the most part. Do you remember what’s next?”

“You are being patronizing,” Spock complained.

“No, I am trying to get you to focus on the initial rules laid out before you ask too many invasive questions about my heat-life in public,” Jim protested with a hiss.

Spock visibly took in a breath before seemingly coming back into himself. “There were introductions upon which a scent exchange would occur, which I believed we had already done.”

Jim shook his head. “I know Vulcans are touch telepaths, but traditionally scent exchanges are when we scent each other right at a gland. Given that we’re in public, it would be at the wrist, in humans, I’m not so sure about your physiology,” Jim sighed.

“I see,” Spock acknowledged. “I do have scent glands in the wrist, neck, groin, and ankle.”

“Great, so you’re normal—at least in that respect. Do you mind if we do a scent exchange? It’s just I’ve never smelled an Alpha whose scent I liked before, and your scent on a piece of cloth is going to be different than what is on your skin, so I’m worried you actually smell foul, and the cloth reacted with the chemical makeup of your hormones,” Jim rambled nervously.

Spock appraised Jim for a few breaths. There were a few moments where he could have critiqued Jim’s logic and excuses, but he could admit to himself that he was curious as well. The taster cloths were made of a specific fabric that should not alter the scent, but that did not mean Jim’s logic was not sound in other aspects. Furthermore, if Spock was going to attempt to do this correctly for the sake of his and, apparently, Commander Kirk’s career, he should do it the appropriate way.

Slowly, the Vulcan worked the length of his robes up his forearm, collecting material in his other hand to hold it back so his wrist and a portion of his forearm were exposed. Jim quickly unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt to reveal the same. Hazel eyes remained focused on his task rather than Spock. A smart move because it was clear the human was nervous, which did nothing to settle Spock’s nerves. Once they both seemed ready, Spock stretched his arm out across the table. Jim mirrored him and with his free hand delicately gripped Spock’s wrist, the Vulcan reciprocated the motion, dropping the fabric of his clothes. It seemed they followed each other rather than one individual leading the other—Spock could already see why Chris had believed they would be a good professional match, especially if Jim wanted to be Captain. Simultaneously, they brought each other’s wrists to their noses.

Jim suddenly released a high keen of excitement which became a low, pleased groan. His nose and thumb pushed into the gland to try to release more of Spock’s scent so the human could breathe it in. Spock’s reaction had his eyes flutter shut, his nose buried, and his mouth open and panting to fully taste Jim's scent. It seemed Jim had the same idea of tasting Spock’s scent when his wet tongue darted out and stroked across where the Vulcan’s gland was, pulling moans from both of them. Jim immediately after sucked on the gland, teeth grazed across while the grip of his hand ensured Spock could not move his hand or wrist at all. Spock was not so forward with Jim’s wrist gland, but it was not clear if that was because he was a Vulcan with more control over his impulses than Jim or if he was simply distracted by Jim’s clever mouth work.

“Jim,” Spock spoke as firmly as he could. “Jim, you must stop.”

Just as quickly as they had shoved themselves into each other’s scent, they pulled away, and simultaneously they had their arms back in their own space, readjusting their clothes.

“Sorry,” Jim breathed, voice hoarse. “I have never—I’ve seen people do that, but I just thought they were being gross on purpose.”

Spock hummed in reply, “That is an understandable assumption, as I had previously come to the same conclusion.”

Before Jim could respond, the waitress quickly set down plates displaying a coy smile as she said, “I hope you enjoyed the taster course, now it's time for the appetizer.”

Jim barked out a laugh and covered his flushed face. “Spock, what was next on that list?”

“A set of questions to determine lifelong compatibility.”

“I see, and would you like to work through them, or have you made a decision to halt both of our careers because I smell too good?” Jim teased. “Come on, let's do them, we can each ask while both of us answer.”

“Directed conversation seems infantile,” Spock remarked.

“Are you protesting Starfleet’s well-researched Dating Service?” Jim laughed.

“Are you not?” Spock asked with genuine curiosity.

“I don’t remember that being on the list of date-appropriate questions to determine compatibility,” Jim japed. “But to answer your question, I think that it’s not only discriminatory against both of us, but if we mate, then all I’m good for is making babies. They don’t put pregnant anyone in positions of leadership. There’s a reason an omega hasn’t been captain yet, and it’s not because we can’t find matches or don’t want to.”

Spock hummed in acknowledgment, “And do you want children?”

“Aren’t you skipping ahead in the questions?” Jim dodged.

The Vulcan’s eyes narrowed, and Jim bit into his food with a loud, obnoxious sound and a toothy grin. Because Spock did not want to play Jim’s game and Jim did not want to give it up, the pair ate their appetizers in silence. This only led to Jim smiling and chortling more while Spock’s irritation grew. It seemed even if Spock did not play Jim’s initial game, the Vulcan was still playing into his hand in a new way. Spock, being Vulcan, often downplayed human intellect—though he should know better—which meant he came to the meeting severely underestimating Jim. And while he should not think of Jim as an opponent in this situation, having been told how combative he could potentially be, Spock came ready for a battle. It seemed Jim had too. But it was unclear whether or not Chris’s warnings had become a self-fulfilling prophecy or if this was a personality trait of Jim, even in his relaxed state. Either way, Spock would have to decide if he wanted to play Jim’s game or have an entire meal in silence. Spock was not opposed to silence, but he was more opposed to career stagnation.

The waitress came over, took their empty plates, and replaced them, concern clearly written all over her face. Neither party enjoyed the idea that they were being watched, especially given that there were other patrons worth far more attention than they. However, it was a bit understandable the curiosity people had, knowing the pair were a match and one was very obviously Vulcan. Once the waitress took her leave after topping off their water, Jim shifted to begin eating, and Spock shifted himself to get comfortable with the fact that he was about to break their silence. One of them needed to end the game, and Jim, an Omega who happened to become Lieutenant Commander despite no match, was unlikely to end it first.

“If I recall correctly, the first question asks us about our career aspirations,” Spock spoke, an eyebrow raised, almost challenging Jim to continue his silent game.

“I think it’s obvious where I would like to take my career in Starfleet,” Jim mumbled, annoyed his game had ended.

“Enlighten me anyway,” Spock seemed to command.

Jim pursed his lips, clearly debating whether he should answer given Spock’s tone. “I would like to be Captain of an exploratory vessel, preferably in Starfleet, before I’m thirty.”

“And you are how old now?”

“Twenty-six,” Jim replied smugly.

Spock quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Fascinating, you rose in rank rapidly.”

“You did too,” Jim pointed out. “What about you? What are your career aspirations?”

“I have had no desire to captain a ship, so you will not find competition with me in that regard. I am pleased with my current position. Vulcan lives are long, so I expect I will decide on a different path later in life. For now, I would like to continue being Chief Science Officer on an exploratory vessel,” Spock answered.

“No desire to be First Officer?” Jim pressed.

Spock met Jim’s eyes and searched for a moment for a clue as to why Jim had asked that specifically. “I would not like to give up my current position, and generally speaking, First Officers are not allowed to take on additional workloads.”

“But do you believe you could handle that sort of load? Being First Officer and CSO?” Jim asked, his chin resting on folded hands as he leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

There was some strategic angle Jim was working through in his mind, Spock could see the cogs turning behind the man’s eyes. Though the problem and solution Jim was likely working through would not—nor should not—sway Spock’s answer, he could understand why Jim was pressing. It was likely Jim believed he would not be able to captain a vessel if his First Officer was not half of his duo. Just as Christopher Pike and Una Chin-Riley were a Captain and First Officer duo, so were any other alpha Captains and omega First Officers in the fleet. The chances that Jim would be allowed to be Captain because of subconscious bias against omegas were already low; those would only decrease if his duo never wanted the First Officer position. Spock should have known Jim was running the math and strategizing the first moment he scented the Vulcan’s taster cloth.

“I require less sleep than humans and already have an abundance of free time as CSO currently due to being more efficient than the average CSO,” Spock began.

“Okay, here is a hypothetical,” Jim interrupted, “say you have an experiment ongoing that requires you to check in every hour and a half, but you also have a twelve-hour shift on the bridge. Then an emergency occurs—you must leave the ship, and you lose contact with your subordinates. How is your experiment continued while you are indisposed, so that the data you have been accumulating is not lost?” Jim asked in a tone Spock could infer he used when he taught.

Spock leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowed at the test he was now being given. “The task has already been delegated to two subordinates who are familiar with the experiment. They also have detailed instructions for themselves, and others should they need to leave their station.”

“I only ask because I had read in your file that you have problems delegating. I’m interested to know if you gave me the answer anyone would want to hear or the truth?” Jim pushed.

“Can both not be simultaneously true?” Spock replied.

“They can, but I also think that’s bullshit,” Jim snorted and dug back into his meal.

Silence fell over them, and Spock did his best to focus on the meal while Jim’s thoughts ran scenarios with their duo potential. Spock allowed it to remain for the moment, but when Jim’s fiery hazel eyes met his own, he understood the game was back on. The Vulcan remembered the list of questions from memory, but figured Jim would like to ask the next question. If they were going in order, as Jim had practically demanded, Spock could prepare his answers so they were in part what Jim may want to hear, and the Vulcan being honest without giving too much of himself away too soon. Jim was right not to want to give answers to intensely personal questions; Spock would allow himself to do the same.

“If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?” Jim asked.

Spock felt sourness build up in his system; there were plenty of answers he could give. Given that he had not directly spoken to his father in almost ten years and had barely spoken to his mother in the same amount of time, the bitterness was always fresh. Soon, he was sure his parents would have to become aware that he presented and would have to take a human mate rather than a Vulcan one. That was a shame he was not prepared for.

“So family is a touchy subject, then? Me too,” Jim sighed as he finished off his plate.

“Indeed,” Spock agreed.

“Glad we have that in common at least.”

“Do you have a current partner?” Spock asked.

He skipped a few questions as they were all family-related. If Jim also found family a touchy topic, he would be happy to avoid it until it became unavoidable.

Jim looked as though he wanted to protest, but instead replied, “I am not currently dating anyone seriously. I have a heat partner, but I sort of ruined any chance of his career advancing, so we broke up our romantic relationship.”

“You were in a romantic relationship with an alpha?” Spock’s eyebrow quirked up.

“Yes, he was—is—on rut suppressants, so it covers up his smell—that’s why I could manage a relationship with him for so many years and why I still let him be my heat partner. Which means he keeps giving me courting jewelry even though he doesn’t hope for us to mate anymore,” Jim answered as if discussing the man’s mere existence bored him.

“Do you mind explaining alpha-omega courtship to me?” Spock asked.

Jim gave a slow nod. “Sure. Obviously, it isn’t common anymore, and I won’t get into my—anyway—In the past, omegas would get piercings sometime between presenting and their first real heat. It was a way for an alpha partner to provide or claim possession. Some documents back then said that omegas are just drawn to shiny things. But now, omegas choose to get piercings, which still advertises our preference for courting jewelry. I’ve received gifts from casual sex partners, heat partners, and romantic partners. Some omegas wear only their current alpha’s jewelry, others wear all the gifts they’ve been given. I prefer to do a mix because it is difficult to acquire jewelry, and I don’t want to always wear studs.”

“Is there an end date for this ritual?” Spock asked curiously.

“Well, no, actually, it continues—I mean, there are omegas that will accept other objects as well, which I wouldn’t be against—”

“—But you wear piercings and expect those studs to be replaced,” Spock interrupted. “I believe I understand. At least I have enough knowledge to do appropriate research.”

Jim sighed, relieved that he was being given a chance to escape explanation. Cultural traditions were difficult to explain. “What about you? Do you have a current partner?”

Spock chewed on his answer mentally for a moment before being honest. “Vulcans must have a betrothal by seven years old. We mentally bond with them to help with the development of our telepathic and other psychological health; they are meant to be who we marry as adults.”

“Do you like them?” Jim asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Our relationship has had many ups and downs. We were unfriendly in the beginning, then, as a result of some life events became very closely involved in a romantic relationship. My dedication to my life as a Starfleet Officer has made that romance tenuous. I have not told her why I have been stationed planet-side yet.” Spock answered far too honestly and with no fully articulated answer. “I imagine she is planning a visit because it is rare I have more than a few days' leave.”

Jim watched as their dinner plates left and dessert was brought—one plate to share between them. “So, then the real question is, how do you plan to explain this situation, and how dedicated are you to the Dating Service and all it entails?”

Spock watched as Jim spooned a bite of vanilla ice cream drizzled in chocolate into his mouth. The soft sucking and licking provided enough distraction of Spock’s mind for Jim to start laughing softly, shoulders shaking as he went in for another spoonful. The scent of the omega filled the air with a crisp, pleasantness that relaxed Spock entirely. Any anxiety thinking about his intended and how he would navigate her and this omega dissipated as Jim’s scent caused a heady sensation. Jim offered the spoon to Spock, and without proper forethought, the Vulcan leaned forward and took the offering, cleaning it off as best as he could before he slowly pulled off. Spock should have known better than to eat something cold and covered in a small amount of chocolate. The experience paired with Jim’s now excited scent and those big hazel eyes sent heat up and down the Vulcan’s body.

“Would you like to continue this conversation elsewhere?” Jim asked with a teasing smile as he took in another spoonful.

“That would be most wise.”

Chapter Text

The two-bedroom faculty apartment Jim and Leonard occupied was not much larger than those set aside for people like Spock, who were given a single-bedroom apartment. Jim did not have a decent view either; the large windows overlooked a permanent farmers market within the city rather than the peninsula, ocean, or skyline. Spock was sure he would be able to impress the man with the nice view of his own apartment. Though he could not be entirely sure, given that Jim was a bit of an unsolvable enigma. Spock was sitting on the couch of Jim’s apartment, facing the large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the bustling market below. Jim was in the process of attempting to make tea.

If omegas were meant to be nurturing homemakers as prejudiced groups claimed in the past, Spock had yet to see that in Jim in the short time they had spent together. Clearly, the omega possessed emotional and academic intelligence; it remained to be seen if he portrayed all the attributes that fictional stories put upon them. The alpha thought it might be best to step in on the process if it were not for how the little bit of chocolate Spock had consumed affected his faculties. Jim would eventually find out Spock’s qualities, and the Vulcan hoped that Jim did not wish for a partner who was all that fiction portrayed alphas as. Spock had not even known he was one, so any social pressure that might have existed to perform as one had not been put upon him.

“Okay, here is the tea, I hope you like it,” Jim spoke softly as he set two cups down on the coffee table.

Spock’s thoughts were wiped away as he watched Jim bend over to set the cups down. Upon entering the omega’s domicile, he had sat on the couch, and Jim had left to go change in his room, where he had removed his collar. Spock would have to ask one day why Jim had done that, but for now, he admired the exposed chest, the peak of pierced nipples, and the gold necklaces, which complemented the human’s sun-kissed skin. While Spock stared, Jim sat down on the floor, which placed the coffee table between them, much to the dismay of the Vulcan.

“You can sit beside me if you wish,” Spock offered, not believing the floor to be all that comfortable.

“I’m alright right where I am, but thank you,” Jim replied and blew on the steam that rose from his mug.

Disappointment flooded the Vulcan at not being able to have Jim’s scent so close, but he kept his displeasure to himself. “Why did you choose for us to come to your apartment, where you have a roommate, over mine, where we have privacy?” Spock asked curiously.

“For that exact reason,” Jim’s tone shifted into up-talk, implying that Spock was missing a point. A point Spock did not understand entirely until Jim continued with an irritated sigh, “Instead of questioning why an omega would choose for their date to continue within the safety of their home where they live with their beta roommate, why don’t you ask all those invasive questions from before?”

Spock wished to probe into Jim's requirement for safety as an omega. As far as the Vulcan understood, times had changed drastically from the days when omegas had no autonomy, were traded, or a time when omegas were raped and blamed for it. But a small, more emotionally intellectual portion of his mind reminded Spock that Jim was allowed to want to feel safe regardless of their secondary sexual designations. And there were more important questions to ask. So, Spock took a long sip of the tea Jim had made for him, contained his disgust at the pungent flavor, and set it down on the coffee table to allow it to cool. Spock would finish it, but he would certainly be taking his time, believing it was best not to offend Jim more than he already had.

“I did not answer your question before we rushed to your apartment,” Spock pointed out.

“Oh right, yeah—first, can I know your betrothed’s name? Might make telling me information easier,” Jim asked.

“T’Pring,” Spock answered, “As for your multi-part question, that required answers to other questions—I am as dedicated as you are to the Dating Service and all it entails. I would prefer to be able to maintain my career with Starfleet rather than find we are too divergent to make this situation work in some capacity.”

Jim seemed to frown at his use of the word “situation”; Spock would need to learn how best to speak to Jim and quickly. Maybe the human might offer him some grace, or Spock could find assistance with friends.

Spock continued, “I will inform her of the exact series of events that occurred, as well as this process that Starfleet enforces. The theoretical options of how you and I progress will be presented to her, though I admit I am concerned she will be hurt in the end.”

The omega remained quiet for a moment; hazel eyes flickered up to Spock before they dropped down to focus on the tea he sipped. “If you two are romantically involved, I can’t imagine she’ll be happy. Just because Vulcans are all about logic doesn’t mean emotions care at all about the logical perspective of situations. All you can do is exactly as you said, and if she wants you in her life, she will find some way to compromise. Just as we will have to compromise to ensure this is going to work for us.”

The Vulcan had expected a more tactical response from Jim, rather he gave a very empathetic remark which Spock had not prepared for. Jim had come to their date prepared for battle; it seemed he strategized for war because his perspective seemed to be presented more holistically than the initial date had allowed for. Spock picked up the tea again out of habit to drink as he worked through his thoughts before he immediately set it down again after taking another long, disgusting, thoughtless sip. It was just as bad as before, maybe worse because the heat had dissipated some.

“Shall we continue with questions?” Spock asked. Hoping that they could move away from his complicated relationship and be distracted from the tea.

“Sure, go ahead,” Jim offered, “If you don’t like the tea, you don’t have to drink it, Spock, it’s weird to force yourself if you hate it or I made it badly.”

Spock tilted his head and felt almost shy at having been caught disliking something a host had given him, a guest. “I apologize, the taste is very strong for me.”

“No worries, it’s replicated—I keep forgetting to go shopping—but if you like a certain type, let me know and I’ll try to get the real thing,” Jim offered and then laughed suddenly, “Maybe I will let you make tea next time though, replicator or not, I can manage to mess this shit up pretty bad.”

Jim’s scent spread freely, and Spock found himself relaxing the way he had hoped the tea would. “I will send you a list of my preferences if you would like, and I would also be willing to make the tea for us. If you want to send along your preferences, I would appreciate that as well.”

“Sure, Spock, I’ll have Bones send them your way because I have a crazy long list of allergies,” Jim hummed. “Now, back to the questions! Ask away!”

“If not for this process, would you ever be inclined to find a mate?”

“I am sure I would have found someone or multiple someones. But I don’t believe I would have searched. All I’ve known my whole life is Starfleet and this policy—which sucks by the way. I don’t know how it is for anyone else, but people truly smell foul and sick sometimes,” Jim complained with a disgruntled sigh. “I think the question you’re really asking is if I would find someone to share a permanent mating bond with if not for Starfleet’s policy—the answer is no. But this situation we’ve been put in sort of has this implicit expectation that we will eventually, because we’re so compatible.”

“So, you are less inclined towards wanting a mating bond?” Spock summarized.

Jim tilted his head as he hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I was before—I would like to see if we’re more compatible beyond our scents.”

“You mean sex?”

“I mean sex,” Jim agreed. “At its most basic level, we are being paired to find the most compatible person to help us through our heats and ruts. The next level is pheromone stability in the workplace. And beyond that is up to us.”

Spock gave a small hum of thoughtful acknowledgment, fingers steepled in his lap. “I believe you implied your heats are more complex, can you explain?”

“Is it imperative that I explain right now?” Jim asked, almost exasperated.

The Vulcan’s fingers tensed in their position, and Spock seemed to assess Jim closely. “When is your next heat?”

“I currently have a heat partner, so it is none of your business at this time to know my cycle,” Jim sneered and set his tea down on the coffee table aggressively.

Spock’s eyebrow twitched against his will, and his lips shifted as if he meant to bare his teeth at the aggressive human, but he prevented the display. “Can I ask how you would like your partner to be?”

It was a bucket of cold water on Jim’s head—Spock thought maybe he finally found a way to cool Jim down when he was triggered into flight mode.

“Not sure,” Jim started slowly, elongating the end of the word into up talk. “Someone collaborative in a way that they trust me. But, certainly not submissive, because I’m not and I know I would walk all over a more demure personality type. It’s the type I've dated over the years, and it doesn’t work well in any aspect of my life. I need someone hardheaded to get through to me when I’m being stubborn. Smart, funny, a little bit of an asshole. What about you, Spock?”

The Vulcan’s eyes widened when the question was brought back to him. “I have not considered such an inquiry.”

Jim hummed, “I didn’t ask you to answer the last question because I know you are betrothed so that answers it, but I guess I figured despite being betrothed that maybe you know what you do or don’t want in an individual you are going to spend the rest of your life with?”

“I suppose there was no logic in considering such a hypothetical before,” Spock answered lamely.

“That’s understandable given your culture, little that I know of it,” Jim placated. “So, I guess—with culture in mind—are you expecting a more traditional dynamic?”

“If you are asking if I expect a demure, homemaking, nurturing omega—no. As I previously stated, I had not considered the qualities I would expect in a lifelong partner. I will add that I do not expect you to have a less successful career to tailor to my ego for the sake of our relationship. I  was under the impression that the traditional mindset had left human society.” Spock asked curiously. “Though you do wear a collar and courting jewelry, so maybe you are seeking a mate who will bring a stereotype from the past out of you.”

Jim shrugged, “Maybe it has, maybe it hasn’t. Regardless of how I reclaim my sex and sexuality, you did not grow up on Earth, and Vulcans seem very conservative when it comes to relationship dynamics from an outsider’s perspective. Which is why I asked.”

“Your perspective is incorrect, but I am not offended you believed that to be a Vulcan reality; it seems most humans think much the same despite Vulcans pushing human social progress,” Spock assured.

“You know I have a brother, but I was wondering if you had siblings?” Jim asked, changing the subject before he grew too embarrassed over his ignorance.

“A half-brother to whom I have no relationship with and an adoptive sister. My sister is a topic for another time, perhaps,” Spock answered. “Your brother has shared many stories of you. I am curious how you two compare as he seems content, like most Starfleet officers, to remain as a lieutenant while you have managed to climb to Lieutenant Commander despite your lack of mate.”

“We are definitely very different people because we grew up very differently from each other. He was out of the house by the time I had my most personally formative moments,” Jim replied vaguely.

Spock could see Jim was tired, smelled it in his scent, and shifted in his seat slightly. “One last question, perhaps, and we can do as you please for the rest of the night?”

Jim gave a slow nod as he picked up his tea to sip at it. “Go ahead, I think there was one more I also dodged.”

“Would you like to have children?” Spock asked cautiously, not hoping for any particular answer.

T’Pring and Spock would be unlikely to conceive because Spock was not fully Vulcan; the same was likely true in the case of him and Jim. Possessing a secondary sex did not make Spock suddenly more fertile than before, and alphas were meant to be extremely virile compared to beta male humans, especially during heats and ruts. However, finally reaching human sexual maturity had done nothing to change his biological reality. T’Pring had been fine with this; she enjoyed her work and had thought she and Spock—if children were something they ended up wanting—would pursue parenthood through other methods. If Jim aimed to have children, Spock would not be able to provide, and thus would likely affect every part of their dynamic.

Jim was quiet at first, sipping his tea, eyes focused on Spock as if he were trying to read the plain-faced Vulcan. “I figured if I had children, they would be an accident, nothing intentionally planned. Parenthood was not something I ever thought I wanted or needed to do.” Then Jim added sarcastically, “I mean my parents did such a great job, why should I try to improve perfection?”

Spock raised an eyebrow in consideration of the omega before him and the way he spoke of his family. The Vulcan supposed they would broach that topic when they were both more comfortable—or maybe it would simply occur more naturally than this day had for them. The heat Spock had felt from Jim’s scent and his flirting with dessert had completely dissipated, and all that remained was heavy thoughtfulness in the air. That seemed to make Jim squirm in his seat a bit, and Spock wondered if the man ever had a quiet moment in his life.

“I had not planned on fathering children because I am infertile,” Spock answered the unasked question. “T’Pring is fine with that aspect of my biology.”

“Oh,” Jim’s eyes grew wide, and a frown appeared on his face. Uncertainty filled his scent. The man set his teacup down again and stood. Spock watched every minute move the man made until Jim sat beside him on the couch almost more stiffly than Spock. With an almost shy glance, he reached his hand over and gripped Spock’s knee. “I am sorry—it’s unfair to have that choice taken from you before you could even decide.”

Spock inclined his head towards Jim, not so discreetly picking up his scent more clearly now that he was closer. The Vulcan’s biology was reminded why he had followed Jim to his home, but was still surprised when he said in a low voice, “There are benefits to being sterile.”

Jim’s eyes blinked slowly a few times before his whole body turned towards Spock, hazel eyes pierced Spock’s brown. “And you’re sure there is no chance that my heat or your rut increases your fertility?”

“A sample was checked during my previous rut. There was no increase. I am still sterile,” Spock spoke matter-of-factly.

A salacious grin spread across Jim’s face, his eyes fluttered half-lidded, and he leaned into Spock’s space more. Slowly, the thick hand on his knee moved up his thigh and squeezed the collection of hard and thick muscles. “So not only do we not have to use condoms, but I don’t have to be on some crazy birth control cocktail? Is that how you prefer sex, Spock? Raw?”

The omega’s arousal filled the air; there was no mistaking that Jim was flirting with him, despite their slightly stale conversations, and regardless of the Vulcan’s relationship status. He knew what it felt like to be wanted by someone and to want them back, only to do nothing about it. But this he was meant to have. Required. Thick lust mixed with Jim’s unique scent. A sweet fruity omega scent with a dustier sweetness reminiscent of corn and a woodiness paired with the freshness that came from being showered with water rather than sonic. It was intoxicating in and of itself, but with omega pheromones of arousal, Spock found himself leaning closer toward the man’s now exposed neck.

“I do prefer raw sex. Vulcans are touch telepaths, being able to feel my partner as I penetrate them heightens the experience,” Spock whispered, his breath ghosted across Jim’s cheek.

Jim, without seeming to mean to, tilted his head slightly to give Spock greater access to his goal. “You can scent me if you like,” Jim whispered, “I would like it if you did.”

So, Spock did. His nose pressed into the junction of the man’s neck and shoulder. Emboldened by the scent of Jim’s arousal, the Vulcan’s rough tongue pressed flat against soft skin and slowly swiped across where the gland was with firm pressure. He was rewarded with the omega’s lusty scent and a shiver. Jim’s fingers slipped into Spock’s hair to gently rub at his scalp, a low vibration from deep in Jim's chest, a sound close to a purr, began as Spock continued to mouth at the gland. Every suckle and lick and kiss seemed to excite the human only further, and Spock briefly thought about how he had never wanted a human more in his life.

“You can touch my body, Spock,” Jim panted.

With permission, Spock’s free hand opened from where it was fisted in his own trousers to slide along Jim’s thigh. Fingers ran up the rough material of dark wash jeans, the texture centered Spock, preventing the unraveling of his barely contained control. But as his hand moved up Jim’s torso and along his side, the omega began to fall back on the couch, bringing Spock with him. On their sides, their legs tangled, Jim’s over top Spock’s hips, his head rested on the Vulcan’s arm, so Spock shifted his attention to Jim’s other gland. While Spock was distracted with memorizing Jim’s scent and how best to excite the pheromones out of the omega, a warm hand began to rub at his clothed member. Hips slowly rolled into the hand, the pair beginning a rhythm where it seemed to be Jim’s goal to not just excite the alpha but feel what he would potentially offer in the future.

Lips journeyed down Jim’s neck and sternum to latch onto a nipple. Both hands were focused on squeezing the omega’s pectorals through his slightly unbuttoned shirt, uncaring that the new position dislodged Jim’s hand from his thickening cock. Spock was far more focused on the soft whines that further encouraged Spock to tease the barbells that pierced hardened nipples. Spock’s member did not go unattended for long as the Vulcan chose to grind against Jim’s leg. The scent of slick, the small hardness which rested above the dampness between the omega’s thighs pressed and rubbed against Spock’s lower torso. The Vulcan was relentless as he ground against Jim, the omega reciprocated, arching into the mouth and hands that teased his chest. Hands that encouraged the swell of the omega’s chest and puffiness of his nipples from the sexual stimulus and pheromonal response.

Spock’s focus diverted to the other nipple while a hand slid down from Jim’s chest to gently caress between Jim’s thighs. Dragging from the furthest most point of the wet spot and up to the hardened cocklet. Jim shook, and his legs squeezed around Spock’s hand when it slid back down between his thighs again. Heat of excitement spread through the alpha Vulcan’s body upon hearing the omega’s keen of surprised pleasure ring through his sensitive ears. The Vulcan’s lips moved back up Jim’s chest to his neck, teasing every bit of skin he could latch onto along the way until finally, lips brushed along the omega’s strong jaw. With Spock’s hand trapped by muscular thighs, he firmly cupped Jim’s soaking and swelling sex. The omega rocked hard into the hand, jerking and shivering with gratification.

“Spock,” Jim moaned wantonly.

“What do you need?” Spock whispered as he rocked himself against Jim.

The omega’s hand found the Vulcan’s crotch again, fingers dexterous as they mapped the firm shape of Spock’s member through his trousers and stroked with precision. Spock curled his fingers into the dampest part of the omega’s jeans, earning a gasping moan, and Jim clung tight to the alpha as if he might fall over the edge of the earth. Jim was entirely intoxicating. It must have been slightly uncomfortable to be teased through his jeans, a rough material, but the way Jim writhed and the pleasure that pulsed from the surface of his skin to Spock’s telepathic mind only spurred the alpha on.

“Fuck, fuck, Spock, please,” Jim moaned happily as he ground into the hand, pushing his hips down on the fingers that alternated between pushing in and tapping.

Spock, in an effort to bring Jim to his finish, tilted his head to offer his neck to the omega. “Scent me, know how much you affect me.”

Jim listened and buried his face into Spock’s neck. An obscene moan followed by a gush of slick, which led to Spock squeezing the jean-covered organs more firmly and practically pulled Jim closer to his body if it were even possible. The omega shuddered and continued to produce wanton noises as he rocked harder into Spock’s hand, pushed more on the pads of the Vulcan’s fingers that pressed up. Jim’s own hand squeezed and stroked Spock’s thick member through his soft trousers with practiced precision and enthusiasm. In a few short moments Jim orgasmed, his head tossed back as his small, hardened cock added to the slick that gushed from the omega’s sudden orgasm. The omega slumped onto Spock with a happy sigh, though his hand continued to work until the alpha had his face tucked in Jim’s neck again, shuddering as he reached orgasm.

“Jim, I had to step out for a bit, but I’m home and I brought you a guest,” Leonard called when he entered their apartment.

Jim woke to the sound of his roommate’s voice, but was groggy and his body buzzed with unfulfilled need. Not that the quick bump and grind with his matched alpha had not been satisfying, but his body still ached, his channel clenched from the empty feeling. Spock had been excellent at attempting to satisfy the desire that pulsed from both of his organs, especially when Jim considered that Spock likely had little to no experience with any being that had both sex organs. Simply thinking about how intuitive the Vulcan had been, how his fingers had felt over his uncomfortably tight jeans, only served to stir the heat in the pit of his stomach again. The alpha buried in his neck released a very quiet and muffled groan at the pheromones Jim released again.

“Wait here,” Jim heard Leonard mutter. “Jim, did you bring that date of yours back here? You didn’t even ask to see if I was home.”

The omega shuddered against Spock’s searching mouth and slowly peeled himself away so he could sit up to see his roommate and the guest he brought. “What? Did you seriously bring—”

“—I ran into him, don’t get upset with me for doing what we always do—”

“—But I had a date,” Jim hissed.

Leonard leaned on the back of the couch to look down at the green-flushed Vulcan who attempted to sit up himself. “I can see that you wasted no time already breaking the rules you and Starfleet have. You brought him home and…” Leonard waved his hand vaguely gesturing to their state.

Jim sighed in annoyance as he and Spock repositioned themselves to sit on the couch, though the omega kept a hand on the Vulcan’s thigh, afraid he would run. Meanwhile, Spock attempted to smooth his wayward hairs, though it seemed useless when his traditional Vulcan robes were out of sorts and he smelled of omega slick and orgasm, as well as alpha orgasm. It really was a shame they had been interrupted because Jim was pretty sure he might have been able to convince Spock to come to bed with him.

“Ben,” Jim sighed with a slow rub to his forehead, “mind going to my room, I’ll meet you there in a second.”

“Oh,” Ben’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize what exactly was going on.

The alpha ducked his head and did as he was told, disappearing fast enough that Spock had no chance to take the other in.

“That is—?” Spock raised a brow.

“You can meet him when I meet your fiancée,” Jim snorted.

The omega stood and led Spock by his wrist to the front door, thankful that Leonard took the hint to hide in the kitchen. Once at the door, Jim shifted to rest his wrists at the junction of Spock’s neck and shoulder, scenting the alpha with a dopey smile. Jim knew he was utterly scent drunk. Many omegas could find plenty of alphas whose scents they were satisfied with. But omegas like Jim, who had complex biology and hormonal structures, when they found their match, could easily become drunk and excited by their match’s pheromones. It would suit high-stress situations; Jim already knew how easily Spock’s scent would balance him out during a distressing event. Spock, clearly still unsure of how to follow his instincts, simply held Jim’s torso so their bodies were pressed together. The omega had no complaints, he—despite having wanted to hate his match—enjoyed Spock close to him.

“Jim—”

“Let me know when you’re next available and plan the date you would have planned for us to go on if Starfleet had not done it for us,” Jim commanded him with a smug smile.

Spock took in a breath, seemingly to center himself because Jim kept interrupting him, but the omega could not help himself. Every file that Spock’s received and the little Sam told, suggested that Jim would test the boundaries of where Spock could be pushed. If the Vulcan was meant to be his duo counterpart and be a subordinate in Jim’s greater life plan, then Jim needed to know where he could and could not push. Not many alphas could stand an interrupting omega that was their counterpart, regardless of social advancement.

“The date I would have planned for a stranger?” Spock questioned.

Jim smiled, “How about a date you would have planned, had you been given my name?”

“A date I would have planned, had I been able to ask your brother about you first?” Spock clarified.

The omega smile grew toothy, and his hands fell to Spock’s chest, patting it with camaraderie before he began to adjust the Vulcan’s robes. “Exactly, and now you have an excuse to pester my brother, how about that?”

Spock searched hazel eyes and Jim let him, wondering what the Vulcan might see so that he could provide an effective response. But there was no response; rather, Spock gently held Jim’s wrists, pulled them from his chest so he could lean in and softly kiss Jim’s lips. The omega was surprised, to say the least. Fingers clenched and unclenched anxiously before Jim melted a little in the chasteness of it. They had literally made each other orgasm not an hour or so prior, but they had not kissed, and Spock seemed to be making up for it. Especially as tongues began to tease, seeking to taste. Almost too soon, they pulled apart. Jim took a step back because instincts dictated that the Vulcan should stay. However, his more powerful forebrain in charge reminded the omega that he had an entirely different alpha hiding in his room.

“I will contact you with my availability for our next date, Lieutenant Kirk,” Spock finally said before he left Jim’s apartment with no real goodbye.

Jim stood at the door for a moment, feeling utterly idiotic for enjoying his time with Spock. The Vulcan had been equally as combative as Jim, met his energy at every turn, and it was exhilarating. It also seemed that Spock, despite having not presented until recently, had enough experience to make Jim orgasm like a teenager in his own clothes. Not to mention the scent the alpha practically flaunted, it was mouthwatering. Jim felt exceptionally giddy and knew once those feelings settled, his fear of what their match meant in the long run would unsettle him more. The omega would start to find any reason to break their duo up, but for the moment, he’d enjoy the high. Enjoy the comfortable alpha waiting for him in his room until he was faced with his duty to Spock.

“So, you’re moving out after your first heat then?” Bones asked from behind him.

Jim jumped slightly and looked over his shoulder at Leonard with a gaping mouth. “No, that would be too fast, I don’t plan on having Spock deal with my heat before I can explain how difficult it can be.”

“You didn’t already have that conversation?” Leonard practically scolded.

“No,” Jim scoffed, “I have a heat partner, I have the resources. I’d prefer for Spock to earn my trust before I tell him what life will be like.”

“You’re concerned he’ll halt your career if he knows?”

“Yes, of course!” Jim huffed as he crossed his arms and began to back his way toward his bedroom. “Any alpha would inform Starfleet that my condition is severe and recommend that I have to remain planet-side, or that I can’t be trusted in a position of leadership.”

“But Starfleet already knows of your condition,” Bones pointed out.

Jim rolled his eyes. “You know that my counterpart’s opinion would hold weight. Especially a Vulcan one. An alpha one. I have to make sure Spock is trustworthy.”

Leonard held his hands up. “Fine, just tell me when to add him to the list in whatever order of priority.”

“He’s already on the list, they do it automatically now,” Jim sighed with some irritation. “But at least he’s not first.” He took a few more steps back. “I’m going to—uh—manage the alpha that is first on that list right now.”

“You do that, Jim,” Bones said with judgment.

Jim escaped quickly to his room, where Benjamin Finney sat on his bed fiddling nervously. The alpha looked up, eyeing his jewelry that Jim wore, and a silly smile adorned his face. A soft sigh fell past Jim’s lips as he slowly undid the rest of the buttons of his shirt while he made his way to stand between Ben’s legs. Finney's hands pushed back more of Jim’s shirt to rest on Jim’s hips. Thick fingers teased along the hem of Jim’s jeans until they reached the buttons of his trousers, and the alpha paused in question.

“Please,” the omega sighed feeling uncomfortable from the evidence of his orgasm.

“You’re wearing my jewelry, why?” Ben asked curiously as he easily worked Jim’s pants open and pushed them down Jim’s hips.

The omega smiled coyly and stole a kiss from Ben’s lips. “Because they’re nice pieces.”

Ben shifted back on the bed and Jim followed in his glorious nudity until the alpha was backed up to the headboard and the omega sat straddled across his thighs.

“You wanted to see if he would be jealous,” Ben answered for himself.

Fingers worked at Ben’s pants while the alpha tugged his own shirt off. Without giving Ben a chance to take his pants all the way off, Jim’s hand pulled the semi-erect member out to slowly stroke it to full mast.

“I, maybe, was curious if he would be jealous,” Jim chuckled and shifted so he hovered above Ben’s hardened member. “I also wanted to advertise what I would expect out of him if we got along.”

The alpha moaned as Jim gave no warning as he slowly sank on his member. Omega cunt dripped in ways Ben had not experienced with Jim outside of his heat. Hands squeezed Jim’s hips before they slowly slid up to gently caress his swollen, abused chest.

“He got you so worked up, look at your chest,” Ben groaned in adoration.

Jim shivered once he was fully seated on the alpha’s cock, channel squeezed around his member. “I’m dying, Ben. I came, but this,” the omega rolled his hips, “this is what I needed,” Jim complained.

Chapter Text

A week after their initial meeting, Spock set up a date for the pair of them to meet in a park on campus to play a game of traditional chess. Early fall in San Francisco saw mild temperatures and soft ocean breezes, which had Jim in a simple shirt and a Starfleet regulation leather jacket over top. The omega, early to the date again, sat at a chess table a distance from the crowds and under the shade of a tree that provided the illusion of privacy. Jim set up the board slowly, trying to waste time until Spock arrived. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his chest up to his neck where his scent and bonding gland were, while his other hand remained focused on the task. The omega often ignored his body, especially regarding any thoughts that raced about Spock. Currently, Jim wondered whether the alpha would bring him a gift for their last encounter or if he had not understood the nuances of courtship gifts (or, worse, if he simply did not care for the tradition).

Jim was not left wondering long because the breeze brought him Spock’s scent first. Nose up, eyes fluttered shut, Jim scented the air and sighed, tension released from his body. It was no wonder that no one complained about the Dating Service; regardless of whether duos were personality matches, there was certainly something to be said for the scent match. Eventually, Jim opened his eyes and gazed upon Spock in a simple Vulcan robe. The traditional garment was a dark blue with beautiful embroidery of the same color, which only enhanced Spock’s looks. Jim stood, hands twitching at his side. He wanted to reach out and scent the Vulcan immediately, but was still unsure how to navigate human biological needs with Vulcan cultural standards.

“Jim,” Spock greeted, hands clasped behind his back.

The omega spoke almost breathless, “Spock.” Jim’s hand lifted slightly, and his other brought it back down, fingers instead fiddled with rings. “I would like to scent you and greet you appropriately, but I also want to respect Vulcan cultural social values.”

The Vulcan tilted his head; it was obvious from how Spock’s nostrils twitched that Jim was being scented. “Is scenting similar to what we did at the restaurant?”

“It can be, but it’s more about rubbing glands to glands. Typically, humans will do a wrist or cheek to the neck of their partner.”

Spock gave a nod of acknowledgment. One hand reached out while the other remained hidden. “If it is an acceptable compromise, we can touch our wrists together.”

Jim gave a nod and gripped Spock’s forearm so their wrists were pressed against each other. Spock reciprocated; his grip was far gentler compared to Jim’s almost desperate one. Then the Vulcan’s other hand appeared and produced a small box. Hazel eyes widened in surprise, and his grip on Spock’s forearm released to allow the Vulcan to grasp the box with both hands. Long delicate fingers cupped the clam box.

“A gift,” Jim said, fingers tangled together again to stop himself from snatching the box.

“Indeed, I had been previously warned that you followed traditional courtship practices, and upon our initial meeting, I did not fully comprehend what that meant. Nor did I understand what situations those rules were applied to,” Spock began. “Though I believe we have many steps to take and plans to decide upon, I do not want to disrespect you or the traditions you choose to follow.”

Jim swallowed and attempted to ignore how his blood rushed at the thoughtfulness of the Vulcan. Sure, Jim expected human alphas to catch on and respect his desires as a decorated omega, but for a Vulcan who had not grown exposed to such traditions to follow with such intention made Jim giddy. He was easy to impress, to be fair. With his head stuck in books and lost in the stars, Jim was secretly a bit of a romantic for those who could pull him back to Earth.

“Would you like to open it yourself?” Spock asked.

The omega released a soft breath and gave a nod. “Yes, please.”

Spock removed a hand that rested atop the box and held it out a bit more in offering. Jim glanced up at the Vulcan as he stepped closer, and his hands took hold of the box. Gently, the omega lifted it from Spock’s large, gracile hand, but did not step away. Slowly, the box cracked open, and Jim’s eyes grew larger. The box snapped shut, and Jim gazed upon Spock once again, who appeared and smelled nervous. He opened it once more and gently put it in Spock’s hand again. Jim backed up and sat in one of the chairs at the chess table, hands folded in his lap expectantly.

“Do you not like it?” Spock asked, slanted brows furrowed.

“I want you to put it in,” Jim answered instead.

Spock’s eyebrows then shot up in surprise before settling back in another second. “I have never removed a piercing nor inserted one.”

Jim smiled slightly, “I bet you could figure it out. I could put it in myself, but I would really like it if you did it, Spock.”

The scent that left the Vulcan was spicy and intoxicating. Exactly what Jim had been hopeful of pulling out of the alpha. It seemed, regardless of upbringing, the idea of leaving one’s presence on an omega’s body was just as enticing as ever. And for a touch telepath, a certain kind of forbidden fruit. Spock moved forward and set the box in Jim’s hands so he could focus on figuring out how to remove Jim’s bottom lip barbell. As gently as the Vulcan could, he held Jim’s lip while his other hand worked to unscrew it until he was able to pull it out. Then, Spock replaced the worn silver barbell with a gold one where a small teal mineral hung right under the center swell of his lip and above his chin. Almost teasingly, Spock ran his thumb across Jim’s bottom lip, the omega’s tongue chased, but did not catch the soft pad.

“How does it look, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked with a satisfied smile.

“It suits you, and a shame no one has given you a gift here before,” Spock replied quietly.

Jim felt his skin heat and was almost disappointed Spock had not kissed him while he watched the Vulcan take his seat on the other side of the table. Still, his tongue continued to swipe, his thick fingers reached up to touch the barbell and stone, appreciative of the delicate and ostentatious gift. Most of the jewelry he wore was simpler and certainly not entirely gold. Humans had left such expensive looks behind when they left money behind; however, it seemed Vulcans had not. Or Spock was a more complicated individual than a simple Vulcan who chose Starfleet. While Jim had been distracted by his thoughts and excitement, Spock had opened the game. White pawn to d4.

“It is certainly expensive,” Jim remarked curiously, black pawn to d5.

“While your other gifts are flattering, they blend in too closely with your non-gifted piercings.” White pawn to c4.

The omega sniffed slightly as he examined how brown eyes raked over the chessboard. “You sound like a jealous suitor.” Black pawn to e6.

Brown eyes darted up and met hazel piercingly as if daring Jim to push further. White knight to c3.

“I mean, if you were just giving me a gift for an orgasm, I wouldn’t expect you to feel the need to defend the ostentatiousness of your gift. Nor explain why it’s better,” Jim pressed on, his growing smile only showing off the gift Spock gave. Black pawn to c6.

“I was merely attempting to give you a gift that I believed suited you and would provide for what I lacked last meeting. But also, may provide for this meeting as well.” White pawn to e4.

Jim snorted and licked his lips. He could see how Spock’s eyes followed, and the Vulcan’s lips parted slightly as if he wanted to mimic the action. “While I appreciate that you thought the extravagance of the gift would cover two dates, that’s not quite how this works.” Black pawn to e4 taking white pawn.

Spock hummed in acknowledgment as his brows furrowed. “I apologize for my assumption; I will not make that mistake a second time.” White knight to e4 taking black pawn.

“Tell me, Spock, what are Vulcan courtship rituals like?” Black bishop to b4.

“Arranged, just as I previously explained.” White bishop to d2.

Jim shook his head, “No, I mean as adults. You expressed that you have a relationship with your betrothed that you two chose to engage in, so how did that courtship begin? Were there rituals involved?” Black queen to d4 taking white pawn.

“I believe I understand what you are asking,” Spock replied. White bishop to b4 taking black bishop. “I was on medical leave, and T’Pring brought me back to myself. Our relationship grew romantic in nature and thus—”

“No, how did it grow romantic in nature? What happened that changed it from her ‘bringing you back to yourself’ and then romance?” Jim gesticulated with air quotes. Black queen to e4 taking white knight.

Spock pursed his lips, though Jim was not sure if it was at the question or the move. White bishop to e2. “There was a heated moment—”

“—Oh, you two fucked,” Jim laughed. Black knight to a6.

“That is a crude summation of what occurred.” White bishop to d6.

“Sorry, do Vulcans prefer the expression of ‘making love’?” Jim gesticulated again. Black knight to f6.

The Vulcan’s face soured more. White queen to d2. “I suppose I do not prefer that terminology more than the far crasser one.”

“Were there any before T’Pring?” Jim asked curiously. Black Queen to g2 taking white pawn.

Spock was silent as he looked intently at the board, though Jim could not imagine he was strategizing his game, rather, his conversation. White bishop to f3. “There were some before my time with T’Pring and one I have grown close to on the Enterprise.”

Jim’s eyes flicked up and caught Spock’s, who clearly wished to see his reaction. Having been found gawking, Jim bit his bottom lip, pulling at his new piercing. Spock’s gaze discovered a new interest to ogle. Black queen to g6. “Have all of your trysts aside from T’Pring been human?”

“No, there were other Vulcans, though they are unlikely to admit such a truth to anyone even if asked,” Spock responded, his scent soured. White king side castling.

“I see, that’s a shame, you are hardly unattractive or unskilled,” Jim remarked. Black pawn to e5.

“The compliment is appreciated, Jim.” White pawn to c5.

“Have all your companions been of single-sex designation then?” Jim inquired with a slight tilt of his head. Black bishop to e6.

“Yes,” Spock admitted. White knight to e2.

It seemed he felt shame over that reality, though Jim could not understand why. Their secondary sex designations were outnumbered in humans, and other humanoids and Vulcanoids did not have similar secondary sex designations. It could not be helped, especially if Spock did not need the companionship of an omega until very recently.

“Have they all been women, then?” Jim pressed because there had to be a reason for the shame that had overcome the Vulcan. Black queen to f5.

“Yes.” White queen to e3.

“Ah,” Jim hummed. Black knight to b4. “So, you must be curious about me then?”

Spock’s head tilted, and his eyes widened as they refocused on Jim, staring him down. Jim, whose eyes remained focused on the board while Spock finally made his move, had a teasing smile. White knight to c3.

“Indeed, I find myself intrigued.”

“Well, that’s checkmate,” Jim hummed as his eyes finally met Spock’s again. Black queen to c2, white king in checkmate.

“Fascinating,” Spock breathed, eyes wider as they gazed down upon the board.

“Would you like to come visit my office?” Jim asked as spicy filled his nose with more intensity than before.

Once the door of Jim’s office was shut and locked, the man had Spock pushed up against the heavy wood, arms looped around his neck to pull him into a rough and desperate kiss. Spock’s hands held Jim’s slim waist to keep him pressed tight against his body as Jim’s tongue explored his mouth. Alpha scent filled Jim’s nostrils and had him feeling almost wanton to taste and feel Spock. The way he seemed to consistently throw himself at Spock was not normal. Typically, Jim was slow with the more physical aspects of relationships because of his disinterest in others’ scents or disrupting his career for anything more serious. There were rare moments in which he would have one-night flings, but they never ended up just being one-night flings, or if they did, ended up with consequences for Jim. However, Spock’s scent drove Jim to follow his instincts more than he would have ever liked to think he would.

Despite knowing he should slow down, that he didn’t really know Spock and Spock did not know him, Jim couldn’t help but want. Jim pulled away enough to open the Vulcan’s robe and run his hands along the tunic underneath with a lick of his lips. Spock reciprocated and pushed off the leather jacket. The alpha’s lips took Jim’s again and slowly pushed him back towards his desk. A soft gasp of surprise left Jim’s lips as he found himself pressed against his own hardwood desk with Spock between his legs.

“Jim,” Spock began, his lips brushing along Jim’s jaw. “I would like to—”

“—If you don’t fuck me Spock, I’ll be very—”

The Vulcan pulled away enough to turn Jim around and press him against the desk. A low groan of pleasure pushed out of the omega when he landed on his desk with his cheek pressed to the surface. Jim could not help himself as he arched his hips up when Spock’s pressed against his ass. The slide of moving his ass up elicited a moan of excitement from the omega when he felt how Spock’s member grew from the movement. Long fingers pushed under the man’s shirt to expose Jim’s back and keep him pressed down. Jim fidgeted under the strength, a soft whine left him, but he knew Spock was unlikely to do anything unless he felt distress. Nothing in Jim’s scent or in the surface of his thoughts would ever give Spock any idea that was the case.

“Please,” Jim whispered as he rubbed his cheek and smoothed his hands out on the top of his desk.

“Patience,” Spock urged as his other hand slid around Jim’s waist to undo the button on his slacks.

In no time at all, Spock had Jim’s slacks and briefs sliding down his hips. Being exposed to the air racked a shiver through the omega’s body. Despite the cold, hips arched more, toes pushed slightly to give Spock a better view of what Jim offered. Jim attempted to shift his body under Spock’s firm hand to observe the Vulcan, but all he could get was a Vulcan that towered over him. Brown eyes focused on the gift between Jim’s legs as his free hand dipped below. The soft rustle of fabric only excited Jim more, his hips swayed slightly as his feet were pushed as far apart as his clothes around his ankles would allow.

Briefly, Jim wondered if this was how all omegas felt with an alpha they wanted. He liked Benjamin Finney, but he certainly did not inspire his cunt or cocklet to drip from his scent alone. And Jim certainly never would be willing to give over his control to move his own body nor would he attempt to goad an alpha with his omega body. It was also no wonder some omegas were pleased to not advance their careers in Starfleet when an alpha with a good scent turned him into a creature that just wanted to please and take what their alpha had to give. Jim was sure his brain would be absolute mush after this interaction, and he was not in a state of mind where he found that he was against such a reality.

Back on Earth, there was a slick slide of a cock that pushed through Jim’s swollen folds and rubbed up against his hard cocklet. The pair shared a groan, and the omega’s body shuddered from the tease. Spock slid back and pushed through again. The head of the Vulcan’s cock caught on Jim’s relaxed channel, introducing the omega to the fact the Vulcan’s cockhead was double-ridged. A breathy moan of pleasure was drawn out of the omega just from the pleasurable feel of Spock rubbing his slick, double-ridged cock, through his folds and up against his cocklet. Again, Spock repeated the same gesture, but his hand covered Jim’s cunt to slide his cock more firmly as he slowly rubbed through the omega’s slick and swollen lips.

“Please,” Jim found himself begging once again.

A deep chuckle vibrated from Spock’s body and through Jim’s. “I remember I told you to display patience.”

Jim began to rock his hips along Spock’s cock, practically gasping and whining in a display of disobedient wanton action. “Your dick is self-lubricated and double-ridged; do you know how exciting that is? You might not pop a knot, but I’ll still get exactly what I want,” Jim rambled.

Another laugh, “I see, I am simply fulfilling a desire for you, is that it?”

The omega released an almost sobbing whine of irritation as Spock removed his hand to help direct his member against Jim’s hole. The head pushed teasingly and Jim, frustrated, shifted his hips so he could get a better feel of how well-positioned the head of Spock’s cock was before he pushed down without warning and managed to capture the head of his cock. Spock groaned, but his hand moved from guiding his member to holding one of the soft mounds of Jim’s ass. Jim’s body shook just from the pleasure of Spock’s double-ridged head spreading him open. Ever so slowly, he shifted his hips in an attempt to take more, but with the hand on his back, he could not move beyond what he managed to take for himself.

Spock began to push deeper at a pace that had Jim whining and shaking. His toes pushed up more as he struggled to take more than Spock offered. The Vulcan easily took the bait and pushed into Jim until he was flush against the omega’s body. Their moans of pleasure were shared in the small office space. When Spock pulled out suddenly and left only the head of his cock inside of Jim, the man had enough awareness to grab whatever edges of the desk he could before Spock rammed himself back in. Jim loudly cursed, eyes rolled in the back of his head and his cunt squeezed the cock inside of him. He could feel how he gushed slick in response his body had from the pure excitement of Spock taking what was rightfully his. In any right state of mind, Jim likely would not feel that his body or his cunt belonged to Spock in any capacity, but his blood was heated, and his channel ached for Spock, and only Spock, to fill him.

As Spock began to thrust in hard and pull out slowly, stretching Jim’s channel to accommodate the Vulcan member, his hand slid around Jim’s hip to stroke his cocklet in time with his thrusts. Jim’s hips moved to the same rhythm, rocking back on the hot, slick dick and forward into the warm, tight hand. Times like these where Jim could so easily be fucked and doubly pleasured simultaneously had him more than pleased with his body. Sometimes he wished he had not been cursed an omega, but others, where he could gain pleasure from feeling full and have a hand on his cock made the minor inconveniences almost worth it entirely. Jim was being fucked with a smile on his face and his body had become more relaxed than it had been in a while.

The pace was picked up once Jim’s channel had relaxed significantly, and it was clear his pussy dripped slick and the Vulcan’s natural lubricant excessively. Spock did not go easy on him, and Jim’s desk could be heard creaking and squeaking against the hard floor. Jim’s cries of pleasure were long and drawn out, occasionally disrupted by a change in pace because Spock could obviously tell when the omega was about to peak and wanted to prevent that as long as possible. The cycle went on. The Vulcan would take Jim hard and fast, bring them both to the brink of orgasm, and then shift to a slower pace to cause the omega to writhe and whine under Spock again. Their chess game had been faster than this and it was not as if either of them were about to lose this game.

It was not until Jim sobbed moans and his legs shook simply from just trying to keep himself up that Spock gave the omega what he wanted. He removed his hand from Jim’s cocklet and the other from his back to take a stronghold of his hips. Jim ensured his grip on the edges of the desk was still strong before Spock took his body as if he were owed and the omega had not given him his dues. Vision of the world grew spotty as his body was used to pump Spock’s cock. The omega tightened his channel to feel the ridges force his cunt looser and rub against every pleasurable nerve. When Spock came Jim saw white, his own body shuddered in orgasmic bliss from being filled with the alpha’s cum and so his body followed swiftly after.

Jim fell limp against the desk, his legs collapsed under him, luckily Spock caught him and kept him from falling to the floor. The omega was pushed slightly so more of his body was on the desk so his weight was better supported, and Spock could release him. A sudden thump sounded when Spock’s knees hit the floor. Jim raised his head to check that the Vulcan had not collapsed but the omega was unable to see, only to feel the alpha seated behind him. Delicate smooth hands gently ran up Jim’s slick-covered thighs and spread his ass cheeks once again. There was another quiet shuffle, a soft exhale, and hot breath against the omega’s swollen cunt. Jim’s body jerked in shock and tried to twist to better see what Spock had planned. Without saying a word Spock’s rough tongue pushed between the lips of Jim’s cunt and began to slowly lap up the mix of the omega’s slick and Spock’s own cum.

“Oh stars,” Jim gasped.

The man pressed his face into the desk, covered his head with his arms, and fingers dug into his hair. Spock’s hands were firm as they kept him spread, and Jim, on instinct, tilted his hips up so the Vulcan could have better access. Taking advantage of a better angle, Spock worked his tongue through Jim’s cunt thoroughly. Thin long muscle pushed into the omega’s oversensitive channel to clean out his own cum. Jim trembled in pleasure, gasping as his legs shook, toes curled and pushed up so he could drive his hips down on Spock’s face. Only to have the alpha growl in response and work more vigorously. The sounds of sucking and squelching filled the office. A hand moved from the omega’s ass to stroke Jim’s cocklet, teasing the head with the tips of his fingers as he would if the omega’s small member were a clit. A gasping laugh burst past Jim’s lips as he felt an orgasm bubble up again. His hand landed heavy on the desk, giving the omega the leverage he needed to push harder and rock his hips into Spock’s mouth.

“Close again,” he gasped out and rubbed his cheek on the cold wood. “Fuck, Spock, holy shit, fuck,” Jim rambled on as his moans rose in pitch.

Spock was laser focused on his task of cleaning and pleasuring the omega until Jim’s hips seized once again and mewled when he orgasmed. Slick gushed from his cunt and the slurping sounds renewed. Fingers found their way to the mess between Jim’s legs and mixed in with Spock’s tongue and lips. It seemed the alpha was keen on tasting the clear fluid that spilled from Jim’s cocklet, but not too pressed to leave his current position. Jim’s body had become lax again, hips still twitched and jerked at Spock’s lazy attention. Languidly the tongue moved through Jim’s swollen cunt, teasing at the lips and the flaccid cocklet that his mouth could now reach. Soft whines left Jim, the omega pleaded but was not clear what he pleaded for. After enough time had passed Spock’s teasing turned into tender kisses along his skin, moving over the swell of his ass and up the exposed skin of Jim’s back until the Vulcan was back standing.

Hands ran all along Jim’s thighs and ass in soft caresses. Down they dipped to pull the omega’s pants and briefs back up, securing Jim back into his clothes the best he could. Just as carefully, Spock helped Jim stand back up and directed him to the couch in the omega’s office where they both sat down to catch their breath. Well, Jim tried to catch his breath, it had been a long time since someone had eaten him out and given him multiple orgasms in such a short session. The man slumped against Spock with a pleased sigh, his eyes half-lidded as tranquility flooded his body.

Hazel eyes dared to glance up at the Vulcan who seemed to be gazing back with a similarly contented look. Spock’s face was covered in slick, smelled of Jim’s sex, and the alpha’s own spicy and bitter floral musk. In another breath, their lips collided, and they kissed wet, open, and unhurried. Jim tasted his own slick and Spock’s cum that the Vulcan had worked so diligently to clean up. There was still a buzz of heat in Jim’s body, a twinge of tension between them as if they could keep going until one of them inevitably ran out of steam. Spock held Jim’s face so securely, so confidently, Jim just wanted to climb into his lap and remain afloat in that feeling. But they were on campus, in Jim’s office and they were only supposed to have a short date worth a few chess games before they went back to their jobs as faculty.

Jim was the first to pull away, remaining slouched against Spock and the couch. Each of his limbs was stretched and popped before he worked on doing the same to his back. The rush of endorphins had allowed for his tense muscles to finally relax and give Jim the opportunity to work out the remaining kinks. As much as he wanted to curse Starfleet for the Dating Service, Jim could already see how beneficial it was for his own well-being. He could not speak for Spock, but based on the Vulcan’s scent alone, Jim could tell the alpha was just as relaxed and gratified.

“May I ask about your previous relationships?” Spock asked after a few more minutes of quiet and stillness.

Jim pursed his lips; he could feel stress flood his body again. “You may ask.”

“I have heard mixed messages about your interpersonal relationships.”

“Mixed messages? From who?” Jim asked with a heavy frown. What could Sam have even said?

“Your brother, other faculty, Chris, also my own observations.”

“Your own observations, unnamed faculty, and two of your coworkers. Enlighten me then, what have you heard about me?” Jim turned and slouched against the arm of the couch so he could face Spock directly.

“I would rather you tell me,” Spock did not command, but it was close enough.

Jim sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I know I flirt, but that’s just how I make friends, honestly. I’ve only had a few serious relationships and I really don’t sleep around despite what others might suggest.”

“You know that I have had many sexual exploits with our respective species and only have maintained one serious relationship with struggle,” Spock replied encouragingly.

“Okay, well, there was this woman I met at the beginning of my time at the academy, Ruth, a beta, and we didn’t really do anything other than go on dates until I went on my first star cruise,” Jim started with a frown. He wondered what happened to her often, but she seemed to have disappeared after he left and the war had started. “After that, I dated another Beta woman, Janice, for a year, but she kept demeaning our relationship because of my secondary sex so—”

“—You broke up,” Spock interrupted.

“Correct,” Jim replied, “I was with Ben Finney for a long time. My relationship with him was how I managed to get around the rules most of the time. Starfleet knew we weren’t a match; he was on rut suppressants and birth control, so they let it slide. Until Finney did find his match and—they just mated so fast,” Jim sighed at the memory. “His mate was kind enough to lend me Finney when I had heats, but I was desperate to find someone else because I was a little hurt—admittedly—that he found someone and fell for them harder than he fell for me. I know that’s a little selfish, but—anyway—so I had to find an alpha to try to maintain my position after years of having stability with Finney. I met this alpha woman on Starbase 1,” Jim trailed off and rubbed his face.

Spock remained stoic and engaged, though Jim could smell how the Vulcan’s pheromones altered slightly to ease Jim’s stress. The omega wondered if Spock knew he was doing it or if he had no control over his own pheromones yet.

“Anyway, a situation happened that all got flipped, turned upside down. Finney and I were sent planet-side with his mate and their child. His mate has once again allowed me access to Finney until I have an acceptable duo and he can be free from me,” Jim finished.

“A situation?” Spock asked, confused.

“A situation,” Jim confirmed tersely.

The Vulcan was silent for a long moment as he likely contemplated all he had heard. “You have never had a casual relationship, then?”

“No, for whatever reason, I never could just have some fun. A student recently said I was a stack of books on legs, so maybe that’s got something to do with it,” Jim laughed.

“I have wondered how you managed to never get pregnant, I suppose a lack of partners would reduce your chances,” Spock postulated aloud.

Jim fell quiet and shifted restlessly, eyes blearily staring at his messy desk, unseeing. “I have been pregnant before.”

The omega could feel Spock’s too-emotional eyes as they pinned Jim in place. While Jim was not much shorter or slimmer than the alpha, he certainly felt small under the Vulcan’s scrutiny. “And what came of the pregnancy?”

“The situation,” Jim stretched the vowels and consonants uncomfortably, “was—Her name was Carol. She was an alpha, and I fell hard and fast. Being with her was like a whirlwind. Nothing like whatever we’re doing here, but she had a hold of almost every part of me. I think I would have bonded had her scent been a match. She wore scent blockers, and I thought that meant she was also on birth control. This was still when I didn’t need to spend my heats in a special facility either, mind you.”

Jim knew he rambled that he jumped around in his story, but could not get himself to be coherent as he recalled the painful answer to Spock’s question.

“She managed to get you pregnant during a heat,” Spock filled in.

Jim, forced back on track, replied, “Right, yes, she did. Like I told you, I always thought if I did have a kid, it would be by pure accident. Having children is not anything I’ve ever thought about with any seriousness. And I would have been perfectly fine not having—not going through the pregnancy. But she was so bitter about me not having any interest in the…the process despite being what I am… she begged me. Told me she’d take care of everything, that I could continue with my career, and she could have what she wanted. We could keep being what we were to each other. It seemed like a decent trade at the time. I could give her the one thing she couldn’t give herself because of our mutually fucked up sex designations.”

Jim took a steadying breath and dropped his head on the back of the couch. His eyes fell shut as he continued, “Finney and I were sharing engineering duties. I was in my second trimester. He had been distracted or something—I took over his shift and found a circuit left open to the atomic matter piles. The ship was already feeling the effects of the mistake he had made, and in the process of the ship attempting to explode, I managed to close the circuit and stop everything from completely melting down.”

“But I got badly injured because of the whole—,” Jim paused, and his hands made some weak gesture before he continued, “—event. I reported to sick bay, told my and Finney’s commanding officer what had happened while I was,” Jim swallowed thickly and breathed out shallowly, “—while I was losing the one thing Carol really wanted from me.”

With another steadying breath, Jim continued, “Ever since, my heats have been uncontrollable, which was how I met my roommate. He was my attending physician the first heat I had after the event when I arrived to teach at the Academy. And Finney was forced planet-side because he was basically demoted. The reason he and I are here teaching is because of something he did and something I lost.”

Spock was quiet, too quiet. Jim opened his eyes and dared to look at the Vulcan. But for once, the alpha was practically unreadable, in true Vulcan fashion. His face was flat, and his scent was practically non-existent. The man suspected that Spock could control his pheromones and, at some point, had decided the omega did not deserve to be comforted by the alpha’s scent. The omega’s heart pounded in his chest, waiting to hear what Spock had to say because it certainly could not be good if the Vulcan had decided Jim did not deserve compassionate care.

“That was a very reckless situation,” Spock finally said. To a bystander, it was no different than Spock’s usual tone, but the words falling hard and heavy on Jim’s ears distorted the comment. “You were very reckless.”

Jim sucked in a breath and stood to put distance between them. “Reckless?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice calm.

“The events put individuals in compromising emotional positions and unfortunate workplace conditions. It is no surprise a tragedy occurred,” Spock clarified. Jim knew better, the words Spock didn’t say- “Unprotected sex and a high-risk position, you were flippant about your duty as a future parent. You caused that tragedy.”

“Fuck you,” Jim seethed and stormed over to the Vulcan. With all his strength, he pulled Spock up from his seat on the couch by his robes. “Fuck you, get the fuck out of my office. Go find some fucking empathy you fucking—fuck!” The human kept pushing Spock until he realized he had to open and unlock the door to actually force Spock out. Which, by some grace of the stars, he managed to do without embarrassing himself further and flung the door open to finally shove Spock out. “Congratulations you just ended two fucking Starfleet careers you damn Vulcan prick!” Jim yelled after the confused but fleeing Vulcan, blatantly ignoring that anyone could have been around to see.

Chapter Text

A simple but large ballroom milled with Academy faculty and officers alike. Chatter with the harmonies of a quartet to fill the space with ambiance. Jim arrived in his formal fatigues, hands stuffed in his pockets as he casually walked around. Why the Academy had planned a party during a weekday night, Jim would never know, but he had recovered as best as he could over the weekend from a good date gone wrong and was willing to play nice until others realized his career was stagnated.

After the end of his workday, the date of his last meeting with Spock, Jim had discussed what happened with his roommate and his long-term on-and-off heat partner. Though they had validated his feelings, they seemed hesitant to give their support when it came to Jim completely blowing up his entire career in space. So, he would pretend nothing was wrong. Jim would do his duty as was required and attend a party that was a celebration of some sort. As he milled about, the omega spotted his father and brother. It would have been easy to go in the opposite direction or leave, to avoid his father. However, Sam did not deserve to be left alone with George Sr., and Jim’s empathy got the better of him. As casually as the omega could, he wandered over and patted his brother on his back firmly. Jim gave his most winning smile with the hope he might diffuse the situation without facing his father’s own scrutiny.

“Dad, Sam,” Jim greeted, “I didn’t know you two would be here.”

“James,” George greeted back, “I heard you got matched, I thought you would have shown up with them on your arm. You do like to show off your—”

“First of all,” Jim interrupted, “I have never shown anyone off—”

“Doctor Lester, Cartwright, Lieutenant Finney even after he mated, Doctor Marcus,” Sam interrupted with his need not to be the son under his father’s scrutiny. “There was a cute, tiny blonde in a lab recently, right?”

“I have never shown anyone off,” Jim protested and glared playfully at his brother. “Second of all, my match has a fiancée.”

“Let me repeat, Benjamin Finney,” Sam pointed out.

“Third of all, my duo is a match, but his personality is so insufferable that I am just going to remain planet-side, or just be happy on the bridge without a command position,” Jim finally finished answering without more interjections from his brother.

“James, let me see if I understand you correctly. Your duo is a match in every capacity,” George raised his hand, “Don’t interrupt me because I am sure you’ve done your compatibility tests.” Jim sputtered and scoffed only for his brother to look a little smug. “And the only problem you’ve found is his personality? You realize you are giving up a First Officer promotion because you are displeased by a personality defect. How do you expect to lead anyone if you can’t handle personality clashes?”

“It’s a little more than a personality clash, Dad,” Jim objected.

“I have worked with Spock since I was assigned to the Enterprise, and while I understand he can be difficult to work with, I don’t see him having any personality defect that you would protest so seriously to,” Sam said before their father could add any more fuel to Jim’s fire.

“You work with your brother’s match?” George asked.

“He’s technically my boss and, yes, he can be irritating at times, but he’s not insufferable,” Sam answered. His brother’s nose twitched as he turned more toward his brother, Jim’s hand slipped up to the man’s shoulder. “Jim, are you feeling alright?”

“I feel fine?” Jim replied with some confusion. With a roll of his eyes, he replied, “It wouldn’t matter if we did get along because I couldn’t take the promotion. Who’s going to leave the Flagship?”

George jabbed his finger in the middle of Jim’s chest with a severe frown, “You sort your shit out with your match and the rest of that business will sort itself out.”

“Dad, you cannot get involved,” Jim hissed and pushed George’s hand off. “You have no right to get involved when you’ve barely been around.”

“Would you say the same thing to your mother?” George scoffed.

“Absolutely,” the Kirk sons said in unison.

“Now, as for you, Sam, back to what I was saying—”

“There’s no rank to rise to in Xenoanthropology, Dad. It’s research and publishing, sitting in a lab all day, occasionally going on discovery missions. And speaking of publishing, I’ve published five papers since working on the flagship,” Sam protested.

“Gentlemen,” Christopher Pike interrupted the beta and alpha men’s argument as Jim watched on with mild interest because at least the topic had stopped being about him. “Commander Kirk,” Pike gave a nod before he relaxed and turned, “Sam, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important, but do you mind if I steal your brother for a moment?”

Jim gave his brother’s shoulder a hard squeeze and flashed a supportive smile before he walked away with Christopher Pike. The omega had mostly known the Captain in proxy to his relationships with his father and mother, they had never really spent serious one-on-one time together beyond the occasional advice Chris sprung on Jim without prompting. Normally, Jim would not be so nervous to have an interaction with the man, but knowing he was Spock’s superior officer only heightened the heat of anxiety that had been slowly bubbling in him all day.

“What did you need, Captain?” Jim asked formally.

“I just might have overheard the conversation you were having,” Chris started casually.

“Oh?” Jim asked, “How much did you overhear?”

“Enough,” Chris hummed with a tight lip smile and kept his hands clasped behind his back. “Your Captain informed me she planned on promoting you, but Starfleet regulations are preventing the promotion from going through. How is the matching process going?”

“Not well,” Jim answered with a purse of his lips.

Silence fell over the pair; it was tense, and it was awkward. Chris looked as if he was strategizing his next move while Jim prayed to whatever deity that may or may not exist to give him an excuse to get away from the conversation and alpha entirely. There was a clear tap of regulation shoes that moved toward them both with a purpose, and so their gazes drifted to Ben Finney as he closed the distance between him and Jim. A casual smile was planted on his face as he slipped an arm around Jim’s waist, which the omega happily reciprocated. It was not as if his arrangement with Ben was unknown, and they really were not all that unique in their relationship either. But because Jim was George and Winona Kirk’s most successful son, and an omega at that, he was often a topic of gossip. Despite whatever rumors might circulate from displaying his closeness with an officer who was not his mate nor a match of any kind, he still smiled and relaxed minutely by having a friend by his side.

“Not well,” Chris finally replied, echoing Jim with confusion. “Well, you two are adults, I’m sure you’ll work it out. What I really wanted to ask was if you were feeling well?”

Jim and Ben shared a confused look before the omega looked back at Chris. “I feel fine. Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Chris responded with surprise, “Lieutenant Finney, you don’t smell anything?”

“Well, I’m bonded and on a cocktail of suppressants and birth control, so my senses are shot,” Benjamin answered, brows furrowed.

“Are you not bonded, Captain Pike?” Jim asked as he had been sure Chris and Una were.

“Oh no, we both preferred to remain as professional as we could and also wanted to maintain our senses,” Chris answered.

“So, what do you smell?” Jim pressed.

“James, you know as well as I that it’s not polite to comment on people’s scents,” Chris laughed and took that moment to walk away.

“Are you—,” Jim huffed and looked at Ben, “Is he serious?”

“Is he always like that?” Ben asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea, he plays the weirdest games,” Jim muttered.

“Do you feel alright?”

Jim sighed before he took Ben’s curiosity seriously. He took a deep breath in, assessed his body, and released a breath to reassess before he gave a shrug. “I think I’m fine, maybe a little hot, but fine.”

Ben shrugged back, “How are you doing?”

“Ben,” Jim warned as he pulled away slightly, though not willing to let go of all his close comfort. “Is your mate and little Jim showing up?”

“Jim,” he replied with a teasing smile, “Yes, she and Jame are showing up. Have you changed your mind about destroying your career?”

“Ben, he said—”

“Lieutenant James T. Kirk?” A melodic voice interjected.

The almost whispering pair whipped their heads to see who called for the omega. They were met with a highly decorated small Vulcan woman with sleek black hair piled high in places and cascading down like water in others. Lingering behind stood Spock in his formal Starfleet fatigues, his hair curled askew in certain unexpected places, and his scent spicy as well as sour. Ben pulled Jim tighter, and though the omega was surprised by his possessive behavior, he appreciated it regardless of the fact that the alpha actually thought Jim should try to communicate with Spock. The friends Jim held close often would display outward support while privately questioning his decisions. Which was what Jim needed to prevent himself from self-sabotage.

“Yes? You must be T’Pring,” Jim answered.

His eyes flitted to meet Spock’s, the omega’s tongue slipped out to lick his lips and bite at the piercing Spock had gifted him before he could stop himself. Jim’s heart raced, his skin felt tight in places, and the sourness left Spock’s scent to leave only spicy lust. Hazel eyes tore themselves away from chocolate to reexamine Spock’s extravagantly dressed and jewel-adorned fiancée. Though his eyes were on T’Pring, his body still felt a pull towards Spock, his hand twitched as if to reach out to touch the alpha to scent him. When Jim’s eyes darted quickly back to Spock again, he caught the shift of Spock’s own arm, and it appeared the Vulcan felt a similar urge.

Jim refocused himself again to attempt to maintain professionalism and added, “While I had anticipated meeting you, I am surprised it’s so soon.”

“I came to visit Spock after he informed me of his situation, and upon arrival, he had confided in me the many mistakes he had made,” T’Pring relayed.

Jim raised an eyebrow, and he dared to steal a glance at Spock. The Vulcan’s own eyes were focused on where Ben’s hand rested on the high point of Jim’s hip rather than on the conversation. The omega had to remind himself that alphas were just odd, and he really should stop trying to read into every muscle twitch the Vulcan had.

With Jim’s attention back on T’Pring, he asked, “And you hope to rectify that on his behalf?”

“Actually, I had hoped to rectify that on my own.” Spock took a step forward, which closed the distance between him and his fiancée. “I apologize. You had shared a tragic story with me, and my response was less than ideal—”

“Spock,” T’Pring chastised.

The Vulcan cleaned his throat, “It lacked emotion, compassion, and empathy. I have been enlightened to how my responses could have been interpreted despite my intent.”

The sincerity of Spock’s apology had Jim reeling. As he moved to take a step back and attempt to run from the very emotional and very public conversation, Ben’s hold on him prevented him from fleeing.

“James, I wanted to ask if you and I could speak in private?” T’Pring asked.

“No, thank you,” Jim smiled a flat lip smile.

A squeal of delight cut through the tension ruthlessly, and all parties turned their heads to see an omega woman with a child in her arms. Ben’s other arm raised up to wrap around the omega’s shoulders and tuck her into his side so they could share a chaste kiss. The alpha’s arm never left Jim, but his own arm fell from Ben’s body to clasp his other hand in the front.

“Jim,” the omega greeted happily.

“Naomi,” Jim replied with a friendly smile, his eyes dropped down to Jame in her arms, and cooed at the infant, “Hello Jim Junior.”

“Are you feeling well, Jim?” Naomi interrupted his cooing with an unreadable smile.

Jim straightened with a huff, “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” She shared a glance with Ben before turning back to Jim.

“Can I borrow my mate for a moment?” Naomi abruptly shifted the conversation.

“Of course,” Jim answered. “I’m the one with him on loan, take him away before I have overdue fees,” he teased.

Ben looked at Jim with seriousness, “Will you be okay?”

“Yes, please go away, enjoy your cute family,” Jim pushed the alpha off with a few pats on his back. The omega kept smiling until all of them had walked a far enough distance and their backs had turned. “Did you bring your fiancée to convince me you’re not entirely a terrible being?”

“That is unlikely as Spock had shared his memory with me and I would agree that he can be a,” T’Pring paused to spare a look toward Spock with a slight quirk of her own slanted brow, “Vulcan prick.”

Jim ducked his head to hide his laugh, “Well, you have known him for twenty-two years, you probably know best.”

“So, may we speak?” T’Pring asked again.

The omega quickly glanced at where Ben had run off to as he felt the anxiety grow. Jim’s hands whipped behind his back to mirror Spock’s posture so his fingers could fiddle with his rings without it being wholly obvious to the Vulcans who scrutinized him. Hazel eyes avoided them a few moments longer, only to regretfully lock on to his own father’s watchful gaze. Jim wondered how long his father had been watching. If Sam had explained that Jim’s match was Vulcan. Or if George had deduced who Spock was all on his own. Regardless, he watched as two fists were raised and then pulled straight to his chest, a sign that George knew and wanted Jim to resolve it lest he disappoint his family’s expectations.

George was extremely old-fashioned despite being a beta. Sam, being an alpha, had come with expectations of meeting George’s every move career-wise, and when that never happened, the man turned his focus onto Jim. The man had been extremely hands-off with the omega, allowing Wynona to mold Jim as she pleased until Sam went off to live the life he wanted. Then, Jim was taken and forced to follow his father everywhere so he could be molded into the perfect son despite his designation. And it was always despite Jim’s secondary sex designation. It never seemed to matter what records Jim broke or medals of honor he received; George was never satisfied. If his sons could not at least reach a First Officer appointment, they would always be failures.

Just as Sam made his own life choices, so did Jim, regardless of his parents’ expectations. He genuinely enjoyed leadership, space, exploration, and everything else Starfleet could provide. So, if Jim gave in to his immediate reaction to push Spock away for a potential linguistic and cultural miscommunication, he would not just disappoint his family, he would disappoint himself.

“My office is close, shall we go?” Jim offered.

T’Pring gave a short nod, so Jim took the lead and did not look back to check if she followed. The walk to his office was close, and Jim had hoped the chill fall air would cool what little exposed skin he had. It did not, but Jim attributed the heat and sweat to an increase in his anxiety from the series of confrontational conversations he had. Though Spock’s apology had been close to what Jim had wanted, a public apology that seemed to require his fiancée to force him to do only made Jim’s irritation with his match grow. Quietly, Jim opened his office door and allowed T’Pring to enter first. Entirely unfocused, he followed and sat beside her on the couch.

“Do you speak Vulcan, James?” T’Pring asked.

“No, but I started practicing after I met Spock.”

“You understand then that emotional statements are often difficult to express in Vulcan and become far more difficult to translate into Standard,” T’Pring lectured. “Spock has additionally struggled to understand his own emotions as well as empathize with others. Though he has since improved after the end of the Klingon-Federation War and the loss of his sister, humanity continues to confuse him. When he does verbally empathize, he often does so without appropriately choosing his words, regardless of the language spoken.”

“He said I was reckless,” Jim protested through his emotionally constricted throat.

“Spock said the situation was reckless, James, because people placed you in several impossible positions. You were exploited and forced to make decisions based on your extreme ability to empathize.”

Jim swallowed; his eyes stared at his hands. The omega gave a slow nod of acknowledgment because he had been told this after his loss. Jim only did the emotional labor necessary to show that he had moved past the event so he could continue to work. Knowing he had not fully healed, Jim could see how his own interpretation of the conversation he had with Spock may have been entirely misread. The omega’s head and face felt hot at the sudden realization, mind becoming clogged and stuck in a loop of the mistakes he had made. T’Pring’s hand gently gripped his clothed wrist and squeezed to bring Jim back to the present.

“I am sorry Spock shared that memory with me. Your story was not his to share,” she spoke softly, “You lost much that day, and you have been paying the price of your losses. I grieve with thee.”

The omega met her eyes, and though her face remained in a relaxed neutral state, he could see the minor shifts of her facial muscles around her eyes and mouth that exhibited so much emotion. When Jim compared her emotional displays to Spock, he now understood the alpha shifted his muscles opposite the emotion he attempted to suppress, which only further exposed the Vulcan’s feelings. How Spock’s emotions might present opposite to the actual sentiment being felt. Jim was learning, and an appreciation for T’Pring filled the omega.

“Now,” T’Pring’s eyes and eyebrows shifted in a display of jest. “Spock has failed to appropriately court you. He informed me of humans’ traditional rituals, and how he might have failed, but did not quite understand where the misstep was. Spock does not employ unofficial resources in his research on humans; however, I do.”

“And you research humans because?” Jim asked, a small teasing smile growing on his face.

“Well, Spock is half-human, I wished to understand him better, so I have used all resources at my disposal. Regardless of their academic weight.” Jim was sure she would have laughed if she were not so firmly Vulcan. “I helped him curate these gifts for you.”

“Gifts?” Jim asked.

T’Pring pulled out a large square velvet clamshell box from behind her person, and Jim tried not to wonder where she had been hiding it from him. The box was slightly larger than the two delicate hands that the case rested upon. In Jim’s lap, his hands twitched, fingers tangled together so he could appear restrained and not overzealous.

“The piercing on your lip is beautiful. It certainly satisfies a first date that ended the way yours did,” T’Pring’s lip twitched upward. “As for your second date and its end, I encouraged Spock to provide you with two gifts.”

“A second date gift and a ‘I’m sorry I’m emotionally constipated’ gift?” Jim asked.

“A second date gift and a gift for the sexual activity. Both gifts should provide ample persuasion to hopefully not necessitate a third compensatory gift for his behavior,” T’Pring clarified. “Please, open it.”

Jim did as he was told, and he did his best to suppress any laughter or excitement. Though the situation was odd, Jim could not find himself entirely against T’Pring presenting the gift. He and Naomi had exchanged gifts as part of their deal with Ben, but Naomi was not a decorated omega like Jim was; the meaning was different. As gently and calmly as Jim could, he opened the clamshell box only for his eyes to practically triple in size. Inside rest gold nipple rings each with a teal mineral to match the one that hung from his lip, and around the rings was a mess of golden links that Jim could not entirely decipher what the piece was meant to be.

“Spock informed me you are participating in the reclamation of collars. I believed you would enjoy one that is not so constricting and is functional as well as decorative.”

The omega blinked, his lips parted as fingers twitched and hovered above the items aching to touch. Something in Jim managed to harness self-control and stop because it simply did not feel right to touch gifts without them first being on his body.

“How do you get such nice pieces?”

“There is a Vulcan here in San Francisco who is a jewelry artisan. They made Spock’s engagement necklace and the piece that adorns my hand. They work swiftly, but not without care. Every piece from their workshop uniquely combines Terran metals with Vulcan decorative minerals,” T’Pring answered in a pleased tone.

Jim hummed, “Perfect for a half-Vulcan, half-human attempting to court a human and maintain a relationship with a Vulcan.”

“Indeed,” T’Pring agreed with humor. “Now, I have one last request. Can I put these items on you myself? I understand this is generally saved for the gifting alpha, however—”

“You’re the one that’s here, that encouraged Spock to do better, and are still cleaning up his mess on his behalf to save his career?”

“Indeed.”

Jim hummed and tilted his head to ask, “Why save his career? Would you not be happier if he were just planet-side on Vulcan?”

“Because I would rather he be happy but parted from me than miserable by my side. Just as he would never suggest I should leave my career, I have given up on attempting to separate him from his current passions,” T’Pring answered sounding sorrowful.

“And if I deny him access to the only match, he’s likely to have—”

“Then my dedication to make our long-distance relationship work will have been a waste of his and my own efforts. I do not like my efforts wasted.”

Jim shifted uncomfortably, then asked, “And if you two end because of my compatibility with Spock?”

“I expect that it will end. I have always anticipated we would never marry,” T’Pring spoke honestly. “Though I detest the general smell of humans, since Spock’s hormonal change, it is clear that you two are extraordinarily compatible. It would be unfortunate to allow jealousy to prevent whatever future you two will make in your careers with each other. And, James Kirk, you have a far more exceptional record than Spock; it would be a shame to waste your talents because my fiancé is an emotionally stunted fool, as you said.”

The man’s laugh was short but true. Jim gave a nod of understanding as he slowly began to undo his uniform top and remove his undershirt. Though his office was cold, he did not feel his heated skin cool at all. He glanced down at himself and could see he was perspiring slightly, although that might be expected with his uniform. However, his chest was slightly swollen, and Jim frowned as he tried to understand why he felt so sensitive all over.

“Go ahead, I think you deserve this more than he does anyway. Just be a little careful, my chest is sensitive,” Jim sighed, hoping it was not more sensitive than normal, otherwise he would embarrass himself.

Jim was thankful he had not actually worn a collar that day, so there would be no fuss trying to remove a third layer. T’Pring placed the box on Jim’s lap so it faced her and examined the man’s chest for longer than Jim thought was strictly necessary. Dainty fingers reached out and removed the worn silver barbells currently in place, as she did this, Jim hissed. He looked away to ignore how his chest ached and his nipples hurt, not because she was not gentle, but because Jim ignored the messages his body sent him. As she put the piercings in one by one, she shifted close enough that her breath could be felt against his burning skin.

“Your previous partners gave you nice gifts,” T’Pring acknowledged. “Though they do not entirely enhance your features, and it is a shame no one but Spock has put their mark on your pretty face.”

The Vulcan woman’s hands rested underneath his swollen pectorals, and her thumbs gently brushed across Jim’s nipples to move the new decorations she had adorned him with. A harsh huff of breath heaved from Jim’s lungs as pain and pleasure mixed. The omega was at least thankful that she could not smell the slick that began to spill in his pants a little excessively for the situation. One of her hands moved to Jim’s face and held his chin, her thumb caressed his lip, teasing the gap between the barbells, so the hanging stone jostled. Her other hand finally spared Jim’s chest to caress the round curve of his ear, cataloguing the piercings he had studded with no unique jewelry to replace.

Jim swallowed thickly, “The uh, uh, the collar?”

Fingers stilled and left Jim’s face so softly he could feel his skin tingle from the ghost of their touch. “Yes, I suppose you would like to properly admire it.”

Delicate fingers lifted the minuscule gold chain links. As carefully as one could, the first clasp was closed at the back of Jim’s neck. Several portions of the piece were separated, so some of the gold links hung down his back and the front of his chest. T’Pring gently combined clasps at both of his sides and smoothed her hands down the front of his chest to force the collar into place so she could make the final connections down his sternum.

“These can connect to the rings in your nipples,” T’Pring informed as she slid her hands down his chest again. They then lifted to rest gently on top of Jim’s shoulders, thumbs rubbed the thickest part of the chain that sat perfectly on top of where his bonding glands were. “This portion is the functional aspect of the collar. It should withstand even Vulcan force and dentition if he dares to put his mouth where you do not want it.”

Jim, out of curiosity, finally looked down at himself, his hands ran along the chain around the base of his neck, caressing the thick links that extended at least several centimeters from the linkage around his neck. Down his hands went to the loose chains that fell around his pectorals and pressed into his heated skin with every heaving breath. If he were not so swollen, the piece would look like an elaborate necklace, but swollen as he was, it was clear it was a collar. Decorative and enhancing his features erotically. The omega swallowed as his hands fell to his lap, now empty of the clamshell box the gifts had come from. As slick continued to pour from his body, Jim was slowly beginning to realize that he had not just simply been anxious all evening. Quickly, he stood and pulled his shirts on despite every cell in his body that told him to take more clothes off.

“Is everything alright, James?” T’Pring asked as she stood with him.

The Vulcan woman’s hands pushed Jim's away to help do up his fatigues properly and straighten the adornments that told of his position and honors.

“No, I need to go—go get—to go get Ben,” Jim struggled to answer.

Once he was decent enough, Jim pulled away from T’Pring and ran out of his office in a rush. He passed Spock without notice and continued straight toward the ballroom. Luckily, Jim did not have to make a scene in the building as Ben stood outside looking around with some confusion. Jim collided into the other having been unable to slow himself down after the shot of adrenaline his body had given him.

“Jim,” Ben chastised and looked like he had been about to say more when he saw the state the omega was in. “What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” Jim answered, his fingers clawed at Ben’s shirt. “I just, it’s early, fuck—Ben, please.”

His body had betrayed him; he knew his mind would slip just as quickly. Everything over the past week and a half had begun to make much more sense, but he could not truly decipher it all because he needed to get away from the public and fast. There was no danger that an alpha would become unhinged smelling Jim in his state, no, the danger was Jim.

“I thought you and—”

“—Please, Ben, please, just take me to—to—.”

Before Jim could finish his incoherent thought, Ben had swooped Jim up into both of his arms right as the omega’s legs had given out. They would come back to him quickly, but the pair knew Jim needed to be taken to a facility before that could happen. Jim’s eyes fluttered shut as heat and cramping pain flooded his body. A loud, high-pitched distressed whine fell past his lips as his head fell to Ben’s shoulder and fingers weakly clung to the alpha’s fatigues. Jim’s ears felt as if they were filled with cotton and despite this, they strained to make out the chatter of Ben and Spock.

“Where are you taking him?”

“He needs to go to a facility; his heat is about to come.”

“Should I not come with you two?”

“No, if you’re needed, his attending physician will call,” Jim could feel Ben’s chest heave with frustration. “If I can take care of him through a war, I think I can handle this.”

Jim’s eyes peeked open as Ben began to retreat from the conversation and the party. The omega examined Spock being held by T’Pring, the alpha Vulcan flushed green. While Ben remained focused on the walk to the medical building, Jim watched as Naomi and Jame followed behind them. The omega woman was fiercely protective, and Jim had made sure to do right by her and Jame because of his relationship with her mate. In turn, it seemed she felt just the same as Jim, careful to watch her mate’s retreating back, ready to fight a Vulcan who also was an alpha if he dared to get too close. Kindness surrounded Jim and though he did not feel he deserved it, his body gave into the comfort of it and finally passed out from the first wave of his heat coming upon him.

Chapter Text

A part of Spock had told himself not to expect a call about Jim during the omega’s heat. Not only because it was unlikely after their miscommunication (despite his apology) that Spock would be the alpha on call, but Jim had previously made it clear that he did not plan to have Spock’s help during the first heat he experienced since their match. Another, more insidious, part of Spock had hoped he would get the call because instinct suggested he was the better choice, regardless of the history Jim had with Ben. However, when he was called upon the morning after Jim had collapsed, his heart plummeted.

Before Spock could attend to his duties as an alpha, he had to get his life in order. Which included negotiating with T’Pring, his courses, and collecting an item he knew he would need to at least smooth the situation over as best as he could with his omega. McCoy had given Spock no insight into the kind of situation he was about to dive into. Based on the very little the Vulcan had been told, had seen within Jim himself, and the research he had conducted on the topic of complex heats, Spock knew less than the minimum necessary required to be prepared. Regardless of how little he knew and understood he knew he could not arrive at his omega’s heat empty-handed.

Spock had not gone deep enough into his research to have prepared for the situation he walked into upon arrival. The Vulcan had barely entered the heat care medical facility when he was directed to the heat room where Jim was being observed. A room where chaos reigned. Before Spock could process the situation once the door had closed, he encountered a flurry of movement.

“Oh, thank the stars,” Ben gasped when Spock entered.

The man dodged a pillow, while Jim screamed practically incoherent, “You’re not my alpha!”

Spock’s eyes were wide, and the tips of his eyebrows shot up at the sight of the other alpha. He was shirtless and shoeless; scratches and bruises littered his body. The Vulcan looked at Jim, the omega was completely naked save for the jewelry that decorated his body, drenched in sweat, and panting harshly where he stood on the makeshift bed in the middle of the room. Hazel eyes were glazed over from heat, but still managed to focus on Spock. Nostrils twitched as the man scented the air. It seemed Jim had been distracted long enough for Ben to collect his belongings that were strewn about.

“What has happened?” Spock asked, though it seemed obvious he felt compelled to ask.

Ben huffed as he struggled to dress, “Look, I helped him during his last two heats, but they keep getting worse. This is the first time he’s laid hands on me, and I can’t get him to calm down enough to help him with his heat. I’m tapping out, your turn. I don’t deserve that, and he clearly doesn’t want me, so good luck!”

As the man ran out, Spock tilted his head as he gazed at the closed door with some confusion. Slowly he turned to look at the cameras placed in the heat room with a raised brow, questioning the abilities of those who ran this facility before he was able to focus back on Jim. The omega was still poised, ready for a fight. Filled with curiosity, Spock acknowledged that Jim had not yet thrown something at Spock, nor had he threatened any kind of violence. Though the way his fingers twitched at his side, it was clear he still debated whether Spock was some sort of threat.

“Is there a reason Jim has not been sedated?” Spock asked and spared a quick glance at the camera again.

Over the intercom came McCoy’s voice, “Sedation will kill him, for whatever reason that his heat has him like this causes a reaction if he is sedated through the entirety of his heat.”

Spock hummed in understanding. Then Jim’s volatile heat was similar to a Vulcan’s state in Pon Farr. With this, the Vulcan was able to respect that medicine could only do so much for an omega like Jim without questioning further. The facility’s job was to ensure Jim survived his heat no matter what partner he had, but he needed a partner if traditional interventions could not be used. Spock understood that he was lucky that, at least in rut, he could be sedated until it passed, which would make their lives less complex. During his contemplation over the current situation, he had watched Jim pick up a water bottle that was in a pile next to the bed.

“Jim, put the bottle down,” Spock commanded him calmly.

Jim bared his teeth and raised the bottle. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, you aren’t my alpha.”

Spock openly sighed, a vagrant display of emotion. But as the Vulcan rolled his shoulders, the alpha realized he would need to quickly become comfortable with the fact that his body would react to the waves of heat pheromones that onslaught his senses. Normally, Spock was not affected by omegas in heat, pre- or post-presentation. However, this was not a typical situation. Spock had meditated upon the fact that this omega would never provide the Vulcan any sort of “typical” and that was not solely because the omega was one he was compatible with. There were other reasons that a future with Jim would cause anomalous situations such as this, but they were not worth reminding himself. Not when his emotions and his primal state would get the best of him during his omega’s heat. Regardless, the Vulcan would do his best to remain even-keeled until he had talked the omega down and satiated his heat somewhat.

“You are in heat, I am your only compatible choice,” Spock began reasoning as he took a step towards the bed, “If you do not believe me, take in my scent again.”

Jim listened without hesitation. A curious behavior Spock had not expected, but he would accept the trust displayed to follow the command of an alpha he had never spent his heat with before. The omega tilted his head up to capture more of the other’s scent in his twitching nostrils. Seemingly frozen in the act, the water bottle fell from his hand. Taking that as an auspicious sign that he might be able to manage the omega for his heat, the Vulcan took several steps forward.

“Omega, sit,” Spock commanded.

Hazel eyes narrowed, and Jim jutted out his chin to test the alpha that had decisively taken charge. “Make me,” the omega practically snarled.

The Vulcan rolled his head and shoulders around to shake off the primal instinct to do just that. Some steps needed to be taken before he could simply force Jim in his place, and thoughts of doing so should be banished from his mind, to begin with. Physiologically, at least as far as Spock’s understanding extended, there was no true dominance or submission between their dynamics. Forcing the omega into his place, whatever the Vulcan’s primal mind decided that was exactly, was not likely to end well. Spock blamed that desire on the Vulcan instinct to conquer rather than the human one to care. With another deep breath, Spock steadied himself and revealed his hands from behind his back.

In one of them was a clamshell box. Jim’s snarling ceased almost immediately, and his face morphed into something that Spock had seen in only flickers before. Excitement. Intrigue. Except this time Jim did not nor could not suppress the emotions. It was wholly endearing how electrified the omega was for a gift. Open and ready to receive. (Just as an omega is meant to always be, instinct echoed in Spock.) The omega dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed and extended his arm out for Spock to scent. Spock walked the final steps and stood in front of Jim, where he sat. The alpha extended his own arm to run his wrist against the omega’s. Once satisfied by their exchange, the omega stole his wrist back to rub it against his nose and lips.

Spock took a seat next to Jim, still fully clothed, and presented the box again, “Would you like to open it?” He had planned to give this to Jim for their next date, it was not an appropriate heat gift, but it was what he had.

“No, show me,” Jim commanded.

The Vulcan did as he was told and opened it. “I was informed that you have a navel piercing and it required decoration.”

Jim gave Spock a toothy grin and quickly scrambled backward on the bed to lie flat with his legs spread. Without the need to be prompted, Spock knew what Jim wanted, what the omega needed. However, unfortunately for the omega, rather than immediately give in to Jim’s desires, Spock took his time to remove his shoes, socks, belt, and outerwear that had kept him warm in the fall chill. Though it would be better to be fully naked, the Vulcan could not leave himself open to be so easily attacked. The omega’s scent had soured some at the Vulcan, not immediately fulfilling his whim, so the Vulcan ensured to listen as Jim shifted on the bed. In the alpha’s periphery, he could see the omega’s body tensing, preparing for an attack. Right as Spock turned around to face Jim, the omega attempted to kick at the Vulcan. Unluckily for Jim, Vulcan reflexes were better than human ones, and he was able to catch the man’s ankle with a gentle but firm grip. The omega grunted as he attempted to pull his leg back, but Spock kept his grip firm. With a hold on Jim’s body, he pulled himself to a better position between the omega’s legs. Large delicate hands moved up the omega’s legs and pushed them further apart again.

The omega was quite a sight, body spread and exposed, cocklett and cunt leaking. Pectorals were swollen and tight as they heaved against the chain link collar that was almost too tight and exaggerated his form. Jim wore extra weight on his typically slender form as a result of his heat. Omegas needed extra weight to survive the length of heats, and the extra fatty tissue assisted with fertility as well. And for Jim, the additional weight did nothing but exaggerate the eroticism the alpha was presented with. Softly, he caressed the furred inner thighs with the back of his hands, slowly running them over Jim’s hips until he reached the softened belly.

“Remain still, omega,” Spock commanded.

It appeared that Jim preferred tradition in all aspects of his life, regardless of how progressive he actually was. The man did not enjoy being referred to by his given name; rather, it seemed that being called by his status made him more cooperative. Spock was curious if Jim would have opinions on the topic later. As the alpha’s fingers brushed against feverish skin, surface thoughts told the Vulcan that Jim was close to falling entirely into the throes of his heat. There was little sense to be deciphered; most were focused on the gift, some regarding whether Spock would be a satisfactory alpha, and the needs of his heat. After the story of Jim’s loss, the Vulcan had not expected the omega’s thoughts to be so focused on being bred. Though as Spock changed jewelry, he caught more glimpses, more lucid thoughts. Thankful that the Alpha could not breed him, could give him what he needed—or could he? Spock wondered what that meant.

“Knot?” Jim asked, voice low and rough.

The answer came quickly, thankful that his omega was vocal. Spock tilted his head thoughtfully as he ran fingers around Jim’s navel, admiring the piercing that matched the rest of the jewelry the Vulcan had given him. Over time, he was sure every piece would match, and then Spock would give Jim more matching sets so he could have options. The omega’s stomach twitched under Spock’s gentle caresses, and Jim slipped his legs around the Vulcan’s waist to hold him in place.

“I am unsure if I can,” Spock admitted as he gently pulled away from Jim and untangled his legs.

Jim tried to use his legs again to pull Spock back, but Spock moved to stand at the end of the bed to gaze over the omega. “Knot,” the omega said adamantly.

The Vulcan sighed and worked his clothes off, which seemed to ease Jim’s violent neediness. Spock was unsure how or why Jim was on the extreme side of a complex heat, but he would begin to ask the questions that seemed no one was willing to ask or want answered when the time came. For now, he would assist the omega, ensure his survival regardless of the repercussions when Jim was lucid again. Naked and exposed, Jim’s legs spread wider. Spock felt a growl bubble up from his chest as his sensitive nose finally was able to indulge in the mixture of Jim’s heat-filled scent and the familiar slick he had enjoyed only days prior. It took no time for him to get between Jim’s legs, his lips brushed along the omega’s jaw, and his hands smoothed down the human’s swollen and fat-filled chest.

Thick fingers found their way to Spock’s cock and stroked. The alpha’s mouth sucked in one of Jim’s pierced nipples and earned him a cry of pleasure with the omega arching into his attention. Jim’s free hand slipped into Spock’s hair, tugging at the black locks, pulling another growl from the Vulcan. Jim was testing his control. The hand on his cock that teased the base and rose to rub the double-ridged cock had Spock rocking into his skilled hand. The Vulcan focused on Jim’s other nipple attempting to distract the omega from teasing his cock.

“You make slick too,” Jim slurred.

Spock hummed in acknowledgment, “This is a fact you were already aware of.”

Jim pulled his hand away from Spock’s cock to arch his hips up in desperation before his legs attempted to wrap around Spock’s waist again. The omega was bursting with need. Spock could smell it, feel it, and hear it in his thoughts, which only pushed the Vulcan further to the edge. Despite his intense desire to continue to enjoy the omega’s chest, the heat-fattened body made just for the sole purpose of being an offering for an alpha like Spock to enjoy and breed, Jim did need to be satiated. Though Spock could not in reality breed his omega, Jim’s influential thoughts and needs spurred Spock on to do exactly as his physiology expected of him. He pushed Jim’s legs back and pinned them to the bed by his sides.

“Omega,” Spock breathed where he was poised, his cock dripped pre-cum and slick all over Jim’s own cocklett and cunt.

“Alpha,” Jim acknowledged, voice quiet and shy, as if he had no desire to acknowledge it but was forced to.

“Hold your legs for me,” Spock commanded, his own voice in a low, soft tone.

Jim’s hands slid up his own thighs and met Spock’s. The Vulcan allowed the caress and touch despite knowing better before he eventually released Jim’s legs. One hand moved to his own cock while the other rest on in the crook between Jim’s thigh and pubis. Spock’s thumb pushed through the slick folds. Slowly up and down, pushing against the relaxed ring of muscle with every stroke. Jim mewled in pleasure, twitching and attempting to grind despite having pinned himself in place. Encouraging the omega’s excitement, Spock’s hand moved and pushed all his fingers up through the slick folds to then wrap around the cocklett and stroke with confidence.

“Alpha,” the omega whined desperately.

Spock lined his slick member up with the omega’s hole and, without further hesitation, pushed in, unable to take any real care that he typically would to allow Jim to adjust properly. Instinct had taken over and the way the omega’s channel seemed to suck his cock in and tighten pulled a loud pleasurable groan from the alpha. The soft plump of Jim’s thighs squished between the omega’s thick fingers that squeezed with intensity. Once the alpha was fully sheathed, Jim shook around his body and moaned out as he suddenly orgasmed. The tension that had wound up Jim seemed to vanish, and Jim’s body was practically goo. Though the heat that spread throughout Jim’s body had not dissipated, it seemed to cut the edge Jim had been sitting on. All the aggression that seemed to be the undertone of his emotions disappeared, replaced with pure lust and the expected motivations for heat.

The Vulcan had not yet orgasmed, though he did not know if a knot would pop, he would have to continue for the sake of the omega below him. Though Jim was far more relaxed, his body was still demanding. At least the omega continued to pin himself down with how he clung to his legs by his sides. Spock’s hands met Jim’s on his plush thighs to hold the other in place and have an anchor to angle his hips better and deeper.  Thick fingers moved out from under Spock’s to dig into the Vulcan’s shoulder as if he were holding on, preparing to be destroyed. Short nails scraped thick skin as the Vulcan pulled back out to rock his hips slowly in Jim’s tight, slick heat. Jim keened and shook as the alpha’s thrusts became deeper with each slide.

The deeper Jim’s fingers dug, the harsher Spock’s thrusts. Bent over the omega, his breath hot against the strong jaw as the alpha took what he wanted without concern, he would hurt the other. Omegas were made for brutal sex. They plumped up, storing fat for the occasion, and due to the nature of taking a knot, were able to withstand deep fucking. The omega under him sobbed in pleasure, writhed as best as he could, and fingers slipped around Spock’s shoulders to press them closer so their lips collided. A pleased keen burst from Jim as their tongues tangled in tandem with Spock pounding into his body. Skin-to-skin contact made Spock practically drunk. With pheromones alone, the Vulcan could control his responses too easily, though he certainly was challenged with his in-heat omega, but the telepathic signals through the omega’s heated skin urged the Vulcan to take, own, devour.

Though sobs left Jim, Spock knew better than to go easier. The omega’s mind and body craved this attention. Jim’s cocklett was trapped between their lower stomachs and was rubbed with each thrust. The lack of attention would not typically bother an omega in heat, but Spock aimed to pull all the orgasms he could from this omega. He moved a hand from Jim’s thigh, freeing it so the omega could wrap the appendage around the Vulcan’s hip. As Spock took the cocklett in hand, Jim used the leverage he had with just one leg to angle his hips and meet the Vulcan’s thrusts. The alpha kissed Jim sloppily, attempting to mask the pleasurable moans that left his own body. As the omega began to reach his peak, so too was Spock.

At the base of his member, the only uniquely human trait he possessed on his cock began to swell. The first time Spock’s knot caught at Jim’s tightening rim, the omega’s head tossed back to expose his neck to the alpha, whose knot he finally caught. Spock, still overall lucid, thought it better than to go after the glands Jim attempted to expose for a mating bite (though Spock would not be able to pierce his skin with the collar T’Pring had put on the omega). Rather, the alpha moved down Jim’s chest to torture one of Jim’s nipples with his rough tongue and teeth, satiating some of the desire to bite. The omega whined from the attention. Spock released Jim’s other thigh so it could join the other wrapped around his waist, ankles crossed to lock the Vulcan firmly in place. The omega ground against the knot with a pleased keen while the alpha wiped the fluid from Jim’s spent cocklett against his hip.

“Alpha,” Jim whined softly as fingers moved into Spock’s hair.

Spock hummed around the nipple in his mouth. Both hands squeezed Jim’s chest, admiring the plushness some more as he gently squeezed. His thumb brushed over pierced nipples between admiring sucks and licks. The omega whined and shook more, his channel tightened around Spock’s knot, encouraging the alpha to spill more of his seed into the omega. The constant orgasm was intense, but it seemed his body had been building up to this moment alongside Jim’s. Though he had been told Vulcans certainly produced more semen than humans, this was still more than he typically produced in a normal sexual encounter.

“Omega,” Spock eventually answered with a fond whisper against Jim’s sternum.

“Mate me, please,” the omega begged. “Please, alpha, I’m yours.”

The Vulcan sighed against the sweat-covered sun-kissed skin. “I cannot omega,” Spock replied. “You do not actually want that. You are being influenced by hormones.”

Jim whined in protest. Hands moved from Spock’s hair down to his lower stomach. “I’m yours, alpha,” the omega insisted. “Please, your knot and—and your seed, you’ve given it, claim me alpha.”

Spock was careful as he moved his attention from Jim’s chest to collect the man’s wrists and brought them to his lips. Gently he kissed and sucked at each gland in the omega’s wrist before he pinned them beside Jim’s head. It had been preemptive because as Jim’s legs tightened around his waist and ground his hips, just as Spock had predicted, the aggression had begun to return. Several orgasms only staved off the torture of heat, but the motivations imbued within heat seemed to drive Jim into an aggressive hysteria, begging for desires he would not have asked for otherwise.

“What did I do wrong?” the omega whined.

“Nothing,” Spock replied softly and captured the other’s lips to reassure. “It is I who is unworthy, omega. You deserve an alpha that treats you well, is emotionally intelligent, and prepared for a bond with a perfect omega.”

“Alpha,” Jim sighed with disappointment.

Though the omega wanted to argue and the thoughts at the height of his skin had plenty of arguments, however logical they were, Spock’s words seemed to stave off the omega’s desire to be mated. Spock, if he felt any sense of pride or ego in his worthiness in this particular moment, might have felt hurt that Jim so readily accepted that as an answer, but his worth was not wrapped up in Jim’s opinion of him, yet. At least not as deeply as it might if they were closer, but they were strangers to each other. As uncomfortable as that thought was with his member’s knot locked inside of Jim’s wet heat. This was only the beginning for them. Spock would accept any win that would keep this omega calm and not on the edge of death. Because that would certainly come if he had not arrived, Finney clearly had not planned to stay regardless of Spock’s appearance, and Spock doubted Jim would have accepted any medically trained alphas to assist him.

Soon, Jim drifted asleep, and Spock allowed himself a moment to relax. The Vulcan released the omega’s wrists so he could wrap his arms around the man and turn their bodies so they were in a more comfortable position. With Jim on top, resting peacefully in a shallow sleep on Spock’s chest, the alpha took the opportunity to meditate while he had the chance. Sleep would likely escape him this entire experience as he had to remain vigilant for Jim’s safety and health. But he could gain energy through meditation as well as the mental fortitude required to force them both to the other side with the omega alive.

Waking after heat could often be abrupt and filled with anxiety from unfulfilled urges. Jim’s face and body were pressed firmly against the side of a well-muscled individual heartbeat firm under his hand on the other side of the alpha’s body. Lower limbs were curled over and around the Vulcan that came to take care of him when no one else could. Initially, Jim might have expected to feel upset or anger for Spock coming to care for him, but there were no lingering feelings that he had been taken advantage of. Though the rules of their relationship had automatically placed Spock on his list of caregivers, and Jim had not anticipated they would reach this stage so rapidly, it was strangely an acceptable turn of events. A soft groan left the Vulcan, and the thickly muscled arm tightened its grip around Jim’s broad shoulders. The omega shifted so his head was propped on Spock’s warm chest so that arm could hold him closer.

Thick fingers moved from where they tracked the alpha’s heartbeat to gently caress the Vulcan’s torso in admiration. His other hand slipped up from where it was pinned between him and Spock to rest his chin upon so he could better examine Spock’s entire being. As hazel eyes roamed up and down the body covered in bite marks and scratches, they eventually focused on the necklace that rested upon his chest between well-muscled pectorals. The pendant shifted between the two black-furred mounds with every rise and fall of the Vulcan’s breath. A silver piece with a black mineral cut to a fine point glimmered under the low lights of the room. Jim’s fingers wandered further up Spock’s chest to feel it between his fingers. The omega had never seen an alpha decorated with something so beautiful. The silver metal that held the stone was intricately designed, and the necklace it hung from had a beautiful shine while also being functionally sturdy.

“How do you feel?” Spock’s voice rumbled.

Jim’s eyes darted up in surprise and got caught in chocolate that appeared to be filled with some kind of fondness and contentment. The omega wondered what sort of pheromones he was pumping out to make Spock have that sort of expression. However, the omega was far too exhausted to even figure out what his own body was doing to find out if his scent or if it was just him that was the cause of such a stare.

“I’m fine now, thank you,” Jim replied voice hoarse. “I’ve never seen a decorated alpha before.”

Spock’s chest vibrated as the Vulcan hummed. “I do not normally decorate myself.”

“So, what does it represent?” Jim asked as he continued to fiddle with the jewelry.

“It is an engagement necklace.”

Jim’s brows furrowed and dropped it instantaneously. The omega was not jealous. Not normally, but at the end of his heat the man found that he really did not enjoy being reminded of who Spock might lose because of what the pair of them were to each other.

“She has good taste, shame for you to mess it up,” Jim mumbled and rolled off Spock.

The Vulcan followed after him and propped himself up on his side so he could continue to look at Jim. “She understands that physiology controls certain aspects of our lives. I have required my bond with her since I was seven years of age because of the shared physiology I have with her. You require my assistance because of the shared physiology we have with each other. It would be illogical to suggest you or I will mess up my relationship with her because of your heat.”

Jim snorted and turned on his side just enough that he was back in Spock’s space again. “Wasted effort and all that, I guess.”

“Indeed,” Spock replied with a quirk of his eyebrow. Delicate fingers softly ran across Jim’s cheekbone and up to his forehead. “Your heat has broken, and your hormones are beginning to balance once again.”

“You’re free to go,” Jim spoke quiet and honest. “I appreciate you stepping in—I don’t think Ben is going to even speak to me after this.”

“You were in a hormonally altered state of mind, it would be—“

“Illogical, I know,” Jim interrupted with a snort. “But I called him some pretty mean things and sort of brutalized him, I wouldn’t want to talk to me either after that.”

“You were not verbally vitriolic with me,” Spock placated.

“Well,” Jim shrugged and could not meet Spock’s eyes, “must have something to do with your scent—maybe your approach. I don’t know.”

Spock hummed again; the omega was sure that the Vulcan might have realized there was no amount of comforting he could reasonably do for Jim at this moment. Losing a lifelong friend because of one’s physiology was not something many people had experience with in the universe. And Jim’s physiology typically something he felt neutral about, had suddenly become his enemy in the more recent year. It was likely that Spock understood what it felt like to have a negative relationship with one’s own body. Jim was appreciative of the new tact he seemed to display, regardless of the reason.

“How many days?” Jim asked to interrupt their quiet contemplation over Jim’s body and his losses.

“Five days,” Spock answered.

“I thought Vulcans had an internal clock?”

The Vulcan chuckled and replied, “Five days, fourteen hours, twenty-three minutes, and 3.8 seconds.”

“Well, it’s not longer, but it’s not shorter,” Jim sighed and slowly sat up.

“You should get going before all the physicians come in here and try to scan and poke and prod me. You don’t need to become part of the science experiment,” Jim said as he slipped off the bed in search of a towel or a robe.

Sheets rustled and feet softly padded around the bed until the Vulcan entered Jim’s sight line again, where he collected a folded towel from the pile by the door. He glided over to Jim and began to gently wipe him down again, just as Spock had done for him, as Jim remembered he had done in his more lucid moments. The omega allowed it, his instincts begged for the soft attention to continue rather than allow Jim to push it away, so he gave in, at least just for the moment.

“It is for the best. The instincts I have are still unfamiliar to me, and I often struggled to control them when we were visited,” Spock spoke in almost a whisper, as if afraid the physicians watching them would hear and use it against him. “I will have to take time to meditate in order to fully recover and understand.”

Jim hated hearing that. He had affected Spock so negatively that the Vulcan needed recovery time in a way the man had never heard of before. While Jim knew Vulcans meditated, he knew very little beyond that, so the man assumed he must have done quite a number on Spock for the Vulcan to require intense meditation. Despite the sour feeling, instinct still itched at Jim’s skin, so the omega slipped his arm on the Vulcan’s broad shoulder to rub his wrist against Spock’s scent gland.

“You should go then, take the weekend to recover, I am sure you don’t want your students seeing you so emotive,” Jim teased, attempting to play light with his heavy emotions.

The Vulcan hummed thoughtfully, and Jim could tell Spock attempted to search hazel eyes that avoided chocolate. Eventually, Spock seemed to give up and pull away once he was satisfied with how clean the omega was. Jim wandered around more until he found a robe to pull on over his body. He had spotted tattered formal fatigues on one side of the room and was attempting to ignore the fact that he was probably the one who had committed that sin, not Finney or Spock. Jim took a seat back down on the bed to simply watch Spock dress and attempt to fix his hair as a distraction from his own thoughts. Soon, Spock made his way back to Jim. Though the omega part of him was pleased Spock still looked and smelled as if he had been overrun by Jim’s heat; the alpha could not hide what his week was like. The omega knew he would likely be returning to his fiancée in this state. Jim’s heat was tempered, but the possessive emotions around it still prickled at his skin.

“May I kiss you goodbye?” Spock asked.

Jim felt his heart beat a little faster and, against his better judgment, gave a minuscule nod. He tilted his head up as Spock bent down to kiss him. Slowly, their lips moved, though it was lazy and goalless. Gratitude seemed to be the message of the kiss, though their closed eyes and the tender way Spock held his face gave another, more intimate, message Jim was not ready for. When they did pull away, the pair seemed to both shudder as they breathed in each other’s scent again on the inhale. After a gentle caress of Spock’s thumb along the bottom of Jim’s lip, the Vulcan left Jim alone in the quiet of the room and the medical facility.

The man lay back on the bed, eyes closed, mouth open, and nostrils twitching as he took in the divine mixture of their scents, sex, and Jim’s heat. Jim might have rolled himself around in the bed had he no self-control, but he had plenty and would not give in to a desire so silly and unnecessary. Several long moments passed with Jim lying on the bed while his feet slid around on the floor as a distraction for that desire and while he waited to be released. Eventually, the door opened and in entered Leonard McCoy with a young woman dressed in what was likely a temporary nurse uniform. Either she had been transferred or was new and assigned to Leonard. Jim sat up slowly, inquiry written all over his face as he examined the tall young woman with a platinum bob. That was until Bones redirected his attention by tossing clothes onto his lap.

“Get changed into something less revealing and more comfortable,” Bones demanded.

“Ugh, I’m so tired of being told what to do,” Jim muttered as he did as he was told.

“You shouldn’t’ve joined Starfleet then, Jimbo,” Leonard joked back.

Though he had no shame as he took the robe off his naked body and began to change, Leonard also had no shame as he ran a tricorder up and down his body, making verbal notes about any marks or bruises. When he pulled on his clothes, the omega grumbled, not entirely pleased that he hadn’t been able to shower first. Jim was covered in cum and slick and Vulcan lubricant, spit too probably, maybe blood if he broke Spock’s skin from scratching and biting. Maybe it was better he dressed before he took the time to think about what he had done to Spock during his heat.

The nurse had been focused on examining the room while Jim dressed, and once clothed, she came over and ran her tricorder around him. It was no wonder she had been so focused on recording the state of the room; the entire place was trashed. Jim had always had long, drawn-out heats, but they had been manageable. After the event, Jim’s heats became more complex, requiring medical supervision. The scratching and biting hadn’t been new, but trashing an entire room and scaring out someone he’d been with for years had been. There were broken lamps, a broken chair, his shredded clothes, shredded sheets, and pillows, which should have left the bed devoid of those things, but it seemed they had been given more at some point. Then there was the amount of water bottles and food waste, which should have been relatively normal given two high-metabolism individuals, but it was all haphazardly discarded as if there hadn’t truly been time to clean. As if Jim hadn’t slept or allowed his alpha to sleep.

It was no wonder Spock left to meditate, but Jim was more surprised they allowed the Vulcan to leave; he probably required medical attention. Jim would need to speak with Spock about the details of the heat; neither one of them would survive the other if they did not take care of themselves. The man was pulled from his thoughts once she stepped away and gave a nod to McCoy. Though he did not enjoy how eerily silent they had been, Jim had been so lost in his thoughts they probably could have had an entire conversation without him noticing.

Leonard slipped an arm around Jim’s broad shoulders while the other hand cupped Jim’s elbow, just in case he was a fall risk. The man led Jim out of the heat room to a small meeting room. It was typically there for regular patients to have their physician give a breakdown of what occurred during their heats and how to resolve any issues if necessary. But, because Jim lived with the attending physician on his case, he never had to go to the depressing room before. No, there had been a change this past heat and that required this nurse’s input. Jim sat in a comfortable lounge chair typically reserved for the physician while the other two sat on the loveseat reserved for duos. The entire situation did not bode well for Jim or his future. Or Spock’s for that matter.

“So, Lieutenant Kirk,” the woman began.

“Just call me Jim,” he insisted exhaustedly.

“Jim,” She gave a small smile, “I’m Christine Chapel, Head Nurse of the USS Enterprise. Leonard asked me to come today because I have expertise in omegas with complex heats. More specifically, I have worked with omegas with cPTSD and how that affected their heats after trauma or war. To be more precise, I wanted to understand how long- and short-term situations of extreme stress and trauma can affect omegas' behavior during their heat. It also just so happens that your match is an officer on my ship.

My Captain informed me that he has been in communication with yours. From what I understand, they do not want you or your match to be forced into a position to derail one of your careers within Starfleet. And I agree, based on your service record, I would hate to see a good officer like you thrown off track. The youngest first officer in the fleet is nothing to scoff at. Which means that our captains plan to have you both continue to work on separate ships.”

“So, you’re preparing yourself and the Enterprise for my heats?” Jim guessed, easy to conclude he would be temporarily transferred every three months.

“Yes,” Nurse Chapel agreed, “that is another reason why I was asked to come. While the CMO of the Enterprise has assisted me with my prior research, he is an alpha, and we were warned you were hypersensitive to alphas outside of heat and alphas as well as omegas during heat.”

“I’m surprised you’ve agreed to allow us on separate ships and to work with me to make this arrangement happen,” Jim said with wonder.

Nurse Chapel hummed and tilted her head slightly. “Not quite. I don’t think I or Leonard can clear you for space service in even the simplest position with your duo until we know your heat cycle is stable and won’t affect your safety. So, in order to assess how we can clear you for space service on the USS Farragut, I’m going to have to ask you some questions. Based on your answers, as well as our records, I’m going to make some recommendations. Some likely will be in line with what you expected with Starfleet’s match timeline. Others will be unique to you. Do you understand these terms?”

Jim pursed his lips. “You are very serious,” he leaned forward and gave a small smile, “but you can ask me any question you want if you keep looking at me with those gorgeous blue eyes of yours.”

“Jim,” Leonard warned.

She snorted. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m everyone’s type.”

“Well, sorry to tarnish your record,” Nurse Chapel hummed with no remorse. “So, a few things I noticed from the heat room you occupied, you did not have a nest—I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt and hope that maybe you didn’t have enough time to make one. Is it typical that your heat comes on so suddenly that you don’t have the time? Do your heats also prevent you from having the time to do it during the duration?”

The omega did not answer immediately and allowed silence to take over the small room. Hazel eyes shifted to Leonard as if asking for help, but he remained stoic and silent. The physician knew how he lived. Bones had even remarked on Jim’s lack of nest a few times—“I expected I’d have clothes missing by now, are we not as good as friends as I think?” and “Strange, I thought all omegas nested regardless of their cycle, must really be that finicky about your space and scents”. Jim had brushed it all off because he did not need to make a nest even if he wanted to. Even if he had stolen something of Leonard’s and promptly returned it after realizing what he had done.

Jim hadn’t felt a need since the first time he tried to nest as a child. He had just officially presented, with his first pubescent heat on its way, when his father had made snide remarks—“You brought your mother’s ugly sheets to Tarsus? What are you doing with them? Nesting? You think Starfleet officers get to or have time to nest?”. Not that listening to the snide remarks of his own father truly meant there was any validity to it. As a high-ranking omega officer, Jim knew there was actually no truth in anything he said. Still, despite the reminder of what his father had done, it was easier to act as though his father’s words hadn’t had any long-lasting effects.

“I don’t do that,” Jim finally admitted.

Only the omega had responded when it had finally become clear Leonard had no intention of spilling the beans for him. Admission was the first step to resolution, or whatever the saying was, Jim supposed.

“You don’t make nests?” Nurse Chapel asked with shock.

“No. I don’t need to, it’s not necessary,” Jim snapped.

Nurse Chapel remained quiet but scribbled notes. “Let’s start with your childhood, then. Your parents are both betas and had two children with opposing designations, both of which are rare occurrences. I can only assume that it would have become difficult to manage children with different kinds of needs. What sort of tasks were you in charge of in your house growing up? Did your brother have different household tasks from you? Did you two have different expectations?”

Jim’s lips flattened, and his eyes fell to watch Leonard’s hands play with his stylus. The physician appeared just as nervous as Jim around this topic. He was the only one who knew his entire history, medical and otherwise. In the short months that Jim had grown to know Bones, it had been easy to trust the man and confide everything that had happened to him. Nurse Chapel was treading ground Leonard had been on before, and Jim was not as keen to give himself away.

“My parents are very traditional. My brother was expected to be a stereotypical alpha: strong, hardened, and exceed all expectations in school and in his career. When my parents divorced, he decided to run off and make his life his own.” Jim paused, remembering the initial question, “Before all of that, I just did household chores with my mom. Learned to cook, clean, typical homemaker stuff. I got to do some manual labor around the farm, but nothing my brother didn’t help me with. As for school, I was left alone, allowed to do whatever.

Funny too, because I was doing better than Sam at a younger age, academically advancing faster than Sam ever had, but because my mom and dad were so focused on him, they never noticed or cared. But,” Jim took a pause to breathe, “after Sam left—after the divorce—my dad took me and decided that I was his only hope in having a son with a successful career in Starfleet. I was taken from the farm, the home I grew up in—some events occurred that were probably not great for a kid to experience, with the expectations of success heavily placed on my shoulders.”

Nurse Chapel listened with carefully placed hums of empathy or curiosity as she jotted notes occasionally. “So, it’s safe to say by the time puberty hit, you weren’t allowed to indulge in omega instincts or behaviors such as nesting?”

Jim twisted his fingers in his lap, “I guess you could say that.”

“And you experienced some extremely stressful events during that transition from pre-pubescent to the onset of puberty?” she asked for confirmation.

“Sure,” Jim agreed. He was not about to divulge his experience on Tarsus IV but she wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, tell me about your relationships with alphas. How their scents affect you,” Nurse Chapel moved on.

“Before my match, I hadn’t smelled an alpha that I enjoyed, just mostly tolerable. I have generally had relationships with those on scent blockers, birth control, or a combination because the drug alters their scents enough that it’s a little easier to be around them.”

“And that was the case for your more consistent heat partner?”

Jim hummed, “Actually, he didn’t have to wear scent blockers until recently.”

“Because of an event that took place recently?” she asked.

“You can read my medical file, you know.”

Nurse Chapel gave a nod as her eyes darted away and her lips pursed. With a calming sigh, she replied, “I did, I’d rather hear your experience.”

A harsh breath released itself from Jim’s chest. “I had a miscarriage because of a mistake my heat partner made on the job.”

“And to confirm, he was not the father of the child.”

“No,” Jim replied short and angrily.

“Who was? What sort of relationship did you two have, and how long did it last?” Nurse Chapel asked rapid fire as if that might make it easier for Jim to detach and answer.

“A female alpha I met on a starbase while the Farragut was undergoing some maintenance. We were together for a year or so before I ended up pregnant. She had been on scent blockers but lied about being on birth control,” Jim paused before deciding to volunteer information he knew Nurse Chapel would ask for anyway. “She wanted it, I didn’t, but I decided with her to play surrogate so she could have a child that was hers. She convinced me she’d be unable to otherwise. It was stupid of me to believe, but I was willing to do anything to make her happy at the time.”

Shame heated Jim at the admission, he believed it was an omegan desire to please her that led him to agree. Leonard had told him he had been manipulated during a heat, but it was clear some part of him, in heat or out, would desire and agree to carry if his alpha asked.

“Well, the loss clearly plays a part in your hormonal imbalance that more recently shifted a negative change in your behavior towards your previous heat partner,” Nurse Chapel replied with extreme confidence and understanding. “But, it still doesn’t explain the length or intensity of your heat.”

Jim was thankful she didn’t ask for greater detail about the event or why he did what he did. Reliving and telling that story twice in one week was a lot, especially with a heat in the middle. The omega had barely even spoken about his loss or the situation since the event had occurred; to begin with, it was no wonder he felt drained emotionally.

“Do you have any other questions?” Jim asked, voice rough and body slumped.

“Yes,” she said and leaned back in her chair, clearly more relaxed than the omega would ever be. “I see you wear courting jewelry and a collar. Is that for conservative reasons or reclamation?”

“Collar is reclamation,” Jim answered easily. Fingers reached up to touch his lip and the pendant that hung from the piercing around his bottom lip, contemplatively. “The courting jewelry and the processes probably fall into both categories. With so few omegas and alphas, a lot of people treat male omegas, especially as a fetish, so if I am one, at least I get something out of it.” Jim answered honestly, though he hid it behind a joke to lighten the mood of the room, but it mostly only lightened himself. “Why does that matter?”

“Well, it seems to me that because you intentionally avoid the instincts that would and should provide you the necessary hormonal balance you need, you’re not only acting out during your heats but presenting yourself more conservatively to the world. It’s as if you’re acting out against yourself. Because the reclamation is the only indulgence you give yourself and your instincts, it actually does nothing for your hormonal stability. Not that providing you an avenue to feel trust in your alpha partner isn’t important, it’s just not necessarily what an omega needs to ensure hormonal stability.

"Starfleet is right that omegas and alphas can hormonally balance each other in stressful situations, but they’re wrong because neither needs the other for stress regulation; it just so happens to work out better when they are together. However, for you—at this point in time—you are going to have to rely on your match’s hormones because you have no self-soothing skills to even yourself out.”

“So, we can’t go on different ships,” Jim surmised, self-hate bubbled.

“Jim,” Leonard warned. Far too keen on the omega’s facial and postural expressions. “Listen first.”

“I was getting to that,” Nurse Chapel assured. “I can give you a list of procedural lifestyle changes. In the next three months and by your next heat, if we see substantial changes, then I would be happy to sign off on you two having separate assignments. If you don’t take the necessary steps to learn how to take care of yourself, one of you is going to have to make a sacrifice. That is, if either of you wants to continue to hold a leadership position on an exploratory Starfleet vessel. Now or in the future.”

Jim grumbled unintelligibly as he picked his fingernails, eyes unfocused as they stared at Nurse Chapel’s feet. Spock could be a science officer on the Farragut, but he’d be losing a position on the flagship just so Jim could be First Officer. While the omega was almost sure Spock would be willing because he had already indicated he did not want to hold Jim back the way Starfleet had because of policy, Jim was sure the Vulcan would feel some resentment. Spock also was not even involved in this conversation or decision; if Jim decided on behalf of him and the Vulcan, and the alpha found out, the repercussions would be worse than following medical advice. Medical advice that was likely to displease his father if he ever found out they wanted Jim behaving like the omega he was.

“Tell me what I got to do,” Jim muttered dispassionately.

“Well, Starfleet already expects you two to move in with each other, so you should facilitate that sooner rather than later.”

“He and I can switch Jim,” Leonard interrupted, “I’d like a nicer view and no roommate. Plus, I know you like your privacy.”

“I mean, he has a fiancé and supposedly a girlfriend on top of that. So, I’m sure he’d like his privacy too,” Jim snorted, heat made him jealous, he was not jealous.

Nurse Chapel stared at Jim with furrowed brows for a moment before she tucked her asymmetrical hair behind her ear. “It would be better if you slept in the same bed but given those circumstances, I’m not against you giving yourself privacy. Just try to make sure you do occasionally share a bed. I understand you might plan on the two of you relegating your interactions to simply being as professional as possible, but you desperately need physical proximity.”

“I mean, he’s only there for scent and heat sex, what other uses does he even serve?” Jim asked stubbornly.

“Ideally, you’d keep having sex outside of heat. Some matches can do that while maintaining a strictly professional relationship, but I understand others can’t. Especially when in heat, you’re asking for the mating bite. It’s expected that those feelings might spill over,” Nurse Chapel pointed out. “But, even so, there are duos that have the bond and still maintain strict professionalism.”

What a strangely specific topic to bring up, the omega snorted and crossed his arms, “Well, I’ve never asked that during heat, so it won’t be a problem, I’m sure.”

Leonard coughed to interrupt Jim, “Actually, you did this time.”

“You two are highly compatible, even despite your duo’s alien biology. With your hormonal imbalance in part due to a lost pregnancy while you had to maintain an incompatible relationship, it does make sense you’d offer yourself over like that to an alpha who is extremely compatible,” Nurse Chapel reassured.

“So, moving in together, sleeping in the same bed, casual sex often,” Jim spoke with detachment. Compartmentalization would be the only way for Jim to take in the information without reacting impulsively. “I assume there’s more?”

“Nesting. You need to start doing that. I can give you resources usually given to presenting teens on how to make one and what scented materials to use. Outside of that, I must emphasize that you really need to listen to your instincts. What I mean is, if you need a particular scent in your nest, get it. If you need sex, ask for it from your alpha. If you want to be scented, have your alpha scent you. It is imperative to your long-term health, not just your career, that you take care of yourself and listen to your body.”

Nurse Chapel took a deep breath, a likely attempt to refocus from her tirade that clearly had been about to lead to how Jim was terrible at taking care of himself. “Say your heat behavior doesn’t get better, if we see there is stability between heats and you can self-soothe, I will happily sign off as long as you work with me to ensure you get to get the Enterprise before the start of your heat. If you want to keep this situation quiet, I and the ranked officers can negotiate a solid reason for your visitation. But that can’t happen if you don’t do what I am telling you to. Doing these procedures will keep your cycle steady and predictable, which is all Starfleet wants. Especially because you can’t be medicated or sedated.”

“I feel like you’re leaving out something,” Jim mumbled.

Nurse Chapel sighed and set her PADD down. “You were raised in a traditional environment, not typical of this century. If you feel the need to take on a role at home with your duo, I suggest you give in to that dynamic.”

“I’m not the barefoot and pregnant, demure kind of omega,” Jim replied snidely.

“I am aware. Even a simple introduction told me that well enough,” Nurse Chapel teased. “But some of your dichotomous nurturing may also have influenced your current nature. Think of taking on that role as a therapeutic method. Very likely, your desire for that role won’t be a permanent state of being, but right now, it serves as a method to process your upbringing as well as past and recent traumas,” Nurse Chapel attempted to encourage.

“I’ve never heard someone suggest in this century that bending over and submitting to an alpha was therapeutic,” Jim scoffed.

“You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Isn’t it?”

The woman bit her tongue, and Jim could see the fire and frustration behind her eyes. Jim loved women with heat; it was a shame he was not her type because he’d gladly do what she demanded if she ever indulged him in that. But the omega remained serious because she was. The conversation was about Jim’s health; it would do him well to listen rather than fantasize. 

“You and me, we’re veterans of a war we were thrown into too young and promoted too fast. And you especially have pushed the limits and even broken regulations to advance your career in the few short years we’ve had post-war. Allowing yourself to relinquish the strict control you’ve had over yourself to get to where you are and give it to someone who barely has to do anything to give you relief is important for everyone. Not just yourself. I’m not asking you to become a homemaker permanently. I’m not asking you to alter your personality. Your duo match will have to barely lift a finger—”

“—penis,” Jim was done with this conversation, the irritating jokes were bubbling out from him.

Leonard, used to Jim’s juvenile tendencies, groaned. However, an almost growl left the beta nurse as she clutched the PADD. “You are in a unique position. Your duo just has to give in to whatever instinctual whim you have, however briefly you have it. Each time you give that trust and receive relief will be healing. Do I think that for you it takes the form of a 20^th or 21^st century Alpha-omega dynamic? Yes.”

“Before you say anything else, Jim, remember she said this is a temporary craving or urge you feel. It’s likely to go away because it’s not your nature as an omega, but the conflicts in how you were nurtured,” Leonard spoke before Jim could embarrass himself further.

“Will you be speaking with my duo match about all this?” Jim asked as he rubbed his face.

“Even though we don’t have to, we’re giving you until the next heat to explain it all,” Leonard answered.

“If it’s clear he hasn’t been informed by then, we’ll be forced to,” Nurse Chapel added. “And that’s another three months you’ll have to wait before you’re approved to go back on assignment.”

Chapter Text

Spock stared at the package in his hands with some worry as he stood outside Jim’s office door. While the omega had been the one to request a meeting, prickles of anxiety bubbled inside of him. Though the Vulcan logically should not have expectations of how the meeting might end, the intrusive thoughts from that small seed of anxiety warned that it may not end positively. However, an instinct suggested that if he could present an appropriate gift alongside his own request, then there was a small statistical probability that Jim would be more amenable to Spock’s question. The Vulcan had considered another apology for taking action during Jim’s heat, but the other had already conveyed that it was necessary and acceptable. Still, Spock was not entirely pleased that he could not receive the permission he had hoped to gain through traditional methods. After a deep calming breath Spock knocked on the door and opened it when he heard Jim call him in.

The man sat behind his desk, leaning on the table with hazel eyes that watched Spock’s movement as though the Vulcan were predator and Jim prey. Before Spock took a seat in front of the desk, he placed the gift down with the hope it would be seen for what it was, rather than a manipulation tactic, though it was in a way. Jim, in heat or out, always provided the same reaction when he was presented with a gift. Hazel eyes widened and a breath was sucked in, fingers twitched to grab but restrained themselves. Whatever compelled Jim to want gifts was barely restrained even in his sober moments. The Vulcan folded his hands in his lap, enjoying the sight of the excited omega. Surprisingly, Jim reached out his arm, wrist exposed, and Spock reciprocated by placing his wrist against Jim’s. They held each other’s covered forearms, and Spock noted how the tension left their bodies.

“Would you like to speak first, or shall I?” Spock asked.

“Why the gift?” Jim asked instead.

“There are many reasons, and I do have one particular question to ask you,” Spock replied.

“Then maybe I should start,” Jim hummed and drew his eyes up to Spock.

They kept their wrists pressed together as their arms rested on the surface of the desk, neither willing to let go yet. Spock was a little curious why Jim seemed intent on keeping their physical connection, but he drew his focus back to the conversation rather than distract himself by attempting to understand a human he might not ever fully know.

“Thank you for helping me with my heat—"

“It was necessary, I am not positive that Mr. Finney had planned on staying,” Spock replied honestly.

“That’s why I’m thankful. I tried to reach out to him, but I’ve seemed to have burned that bridge with my behavior,” Jim sighed.

“That is a shame he would end your friendship over uncontrollable behavior,” Spock spoke with detest.

“I ended the progress of his career, affected his relationship with his mate, and topped it off with increasingly volatile heats to the point he came out with bruises and a broken zygomatic,” Jim informed the Vulcan, “It’s a wonder he put up with me for as long as he did, actually.”

There was a quiet moment, and Spock allowed it to wash over them as nothing could be said in response.

“I was informed that I catalyzed your heat to come early, had I known engaging in coitus with you would have that consequence, I would have attempted better restraint.”

Jim snorted, “Well, I knew and I let it happen anyway, so I’m the one at fault here.”

“Did you only ask me here to thank me?” Spock asked, anxious to give his proposition.

When the omega finally pulled away from Spock’s wrist, he brought his own up to his neck to rub at the glands and mix their scents. The Vulcan found it entirely unexpected that Jim would mark his scent that way. It was practically a public announcement, having their scents mixed. Any time pheromones would pulse from Jim, he would smell of an alpha as well, at least for the few hours the scent would linger on the omega’s skin.

“No, I wanted to discuss next steps, the nature of our relationship, and a discussion I had with a medical practitioner from your ship,” Jim informed.

“Which practitioner?” Spock asked.

“That’s really not that important,” Jim dismissed before Spock could press further.

The Vulcan would find time to become anxious about the mysterious practitioner later. He might even find the courage to ask Christine if she were the practitioner, but that was far more confrontational than he generally found himself to be.

“I also wished to speak with you about moving forward with our arrangement,” Spock replied instead.

Jim’s hand moved to feel the gift. “I see, so we’re at least somewhat on the same page. Do you want to show me what you got, and then we can have our discussion while you put it on me?”

Spock felt excitement seize. Jim knew what he wished to ask and accepted with eagerness. The Vulcan opened the gift to display an array of piercings that would replace the metal in Jim’s nose and right ear. It seemed Spock’s timing was appropriate because Jim was not adorned in anything but what Spock had given him (though he had no idea what Jim wore under his clothes, so all he could see was the lip barbel with the pendant he had gifted him). While Spock had been lost in thought about how he had the chance to replace what had been previously occupied by Ben’s (and maybe others') gifts, Jim had moved to sit on the couch. Upon realizing the omega was waiting for him, Spock was quick to sit at his side.

“So, you agree to move in with me?” Spock asked.

“Yes, but no,” Jim said while attempting stillness as Spock removed his nose studs. “I want you to move in with me, and Bones will take your place.”

“Why do we require two bedrooms?” Spock asked.

Jim’s hand found its way up the Vulcan’s chest and pressed flat where his engagement necklace rested against his chest.

“Because first of all, you’re engaged, and second of all, you have a girlfriend. It would be cruel to say you couldn’t bring them over and not have privacy,” Jim hummed. “I’ve already told you I’m more of a serial monogamist, what I was doing with Ben is the closest I’ve ever come to being polyam. Plus, I’m not interested in having anything but a professional relationship with you anyway.”

“I am surprised you care if your romantic partner has other partners,” Spock replied.

Jim shrugged, “I suppose if my romantic partner wanted to have one-night stands or quick flings, I probably would not be opposed to it, but honestly, I hated being Ben’s side-piece once he was with his mate. Maybe those feelings could change in the future. Regardless, you and I should maintain as professional a relationship as possible.”

Spock replaced the nose pieces with individual gold studs that had a chain that connected across the bridge of his nose. How he wanted to touch and kiss Jim, an urge he did not understand, so he focused his mind on the many piercings in Jim’s ear.

“Why specify as professional as possible? Do you not foresee us being able to compartmentalize your heats and my ruts?” Spock asked.

“Because the matter is more complicated. If I could be that simple, then yes, I believe we could.”

“Your heats are complex, so our relationship will be as well,” Spock guessed.

“I was told if I don’t speak to you about this, others will.”

“Then I am listening.”

Jim seemed to struggle with his words, unsure where to begin. The Vulcan wished he could offer more without providing a solution that would no doubt make Jim suspicious or more defensively intense than he was.

“Your response to me relaying a traumatic situation was less than ideal,” Jim sighed.

Spock paused in his placement of a piercing to examine Jim, who had turned to face him, filled with worry. “I am regretful and sorry that I did not react with more tact and careful words. My previous mistake has brought you understandable worry about your ability to trust me with any other sensitive matters. I assure you, I would not be here if I did not trust you. I also appreciate you trusting me to assist you through your heat. I hope that you can trust me again now.”

Jim turned away again so Spock could continue to replace each piercing with slow care. “Alright, Spock, we’ll call that situation a fluke.”

“You were in pre-heat, it is likely heightened emotions in addition to retelling your trauma altered your perception, and my inaccurate language only exacerbated your emotional response,” Spock replied. “I am sure it was not a fluke, but I will be more careful with my language in the future.”

“You’re toeing a fine line, Spock,” Jim chuckled.

“I apologize, please tell me what you need to,” Spock replied with a small tilt of his lips that Jim caught as he focused down to choose the next piercing.

“Alright,” the human sighed, “apparently there are instincts that I have been ignoring for almost fifteen years. Ideally, we would just enter a relationship and share a bed, yadda yadda yadda, but even if you were interested in that, I cannot handle it.” Jim took a breath, and Spock did not argue. “I need to be indulging in any instinct I have, apparently.”

“These instincts trouble you?” Spock asked.

“If they didn’t involve another person’s help, I don’t think I would be so bothered,” Jim admitted.

Spock arranged the chains that wrapped around his ear from one conch piercing, one that hung between a flat and forward helix, and smoothed the chains that gently hung from other flat and lobe piercings. Once those were settled, he focused on the two very small tragus piercings.

“I understand that sentiment, I struggle to ask for help from others,” Spock replied honestly.

“Do you have a set for the other ear?” Jim asked curiously.

“Jim, please tell me what I need to know.”

“Right,” the man cleared his throat. “I need to start nesting, I don’t really know how to do that, but usually it involves stealing clothes and linens that smell like people that omegas are comfortable with. It’s a scent thing and a safety thing, I guess. That’s the easy bit. Other instincts involve the more conservative values I was raised with, I don’t necessarily believe them or want to be the way I am—”

“So, you desire extremely traditional Alpha-omega dynamics?” Spock asked.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” Jim snorted. “I was also told it was probably temporary until my hormones chill out or we bond, one of which may not happen without the other.”

Spock hummed and closed the box with Jim’s temporary piercings, sliding back slightly so Jim had room to turn and face him. “You would agree we need more time before agreeing to a semi-permanent connection, but I am not against the entire idea for the future. As for the traditional dynamics, I will do research and provide that for you as best as I can.”

“The physician also suggested we should be having sex, at least when the urge hits either of us, it will make sure my cycle is consistent so that we can be on separate ships and then meet before my heat comes.”

“As professional as possible,” Spock repeated. “This is indeed complicated for both of us.”

“You don’t have to agree, I am just doing as I was told, which was to give you all the information they have right now. Resolving my trauma by giving in to my instincts may not even make my heats less volatile. A mate bite may be the only thing that makes me, for lack of a better word, calm. So, I know that us not doing this professional duo thing may stop us from progressing in our careers, or even lose our positions, but—”

“Do not worry, Jim,” Spock interrupted. “I am confident in our ability to negotiate this professional relationship. Though Mr. Finney was incapable of managing your volatile heat, it did not ‘scare me off’. You were quite responsive with me, and now I have more time to research complex heats. I will do better next time.”

Jim snorted and hit Spock’s shoulder teasingly. “Well, if you back out at any time, I won’t blame you.”

The following weekend, while Jim had been asleep, Spock had moved in and Bones had moved out. Leonard had not bothered to wake Jim up from his slumber before he disappeared. Though Jim supposed he’d make the goodbye unnecessarily hard, which meant it was probably for the best that he woke up to silence. Bones usually had a holovid on while cooking breakfast by mid-morning. Jim had already woken once to start his morning routine, but given he was still recovering from his heat and then going straight back to work right after, he fell back asleep in bed. The next time he woke, he held his breath to listen to Spock’s quiet feet pad around the apartment. It was strange to wake up to a new roommate. Especially one that seemed to tread so carefully. Suddenly, feet paused, and Jim sat up slightly to listen as Spock knocked at his bedroom door.

“You don’t have to knock,” Jim answered.

Entered Spock in clothes far more casual than Jim had ever seen him in. A t-shirt and sweats, both Starfleet regulation, which clung to his thick, muscular form. Jim licked his lips, and his nostrils flared at the sudden scent of his match. The omega shifted to hold his weight on one elbow so his free hand could toss the blankets to reveal an open and empty space in his bed.

“You have not made a nest,” Spock noted, but moved deeper into the bedroom.

“Suddenly an expert in nest building?” Jim asked sardonically. Spock hardly reacted, and Jim gave a suffering sigh because it seemed the alpha was not interested in banter in the morning. “Couldn’t do it without your scent,” Jim mumbled tiredly. “Come here, help me cover my bed in your scent, then I might be able to make a nest.”

The Vulcan made no further arguments. Before he joined Jim in bed, he altered the organization of the pillows so that when he slipped in, he was also propped up by a few pillows.

“What exactly do I need to do?” Spock asked.

Jim tossed the blanket back over to cover the Vulcan and scooted until he was pressed against the other’s side. Then the omega stretched his body all along Spock’s and pressed their bodies flush together. As his stretch finished, he lay himself on top of the Vulcan so his arms were loose around Spock’s neck, his chest pressed against Spock’s, and their legs tangled. Jim was just in soft flannel sleep pants, so his chest was bare, and the Vulcan seemed unable to help himself as his hands slid up the omega’s back.

“Like this to start,” Jim mumbled and rubbed his cheek on Spock’s covered collarbone and under his jaw.

The alpha hummed and the omega felt encouraged by the vibrations of the baritone voice. The rumble with warm hands on his skin had Jim melting and practically purring as he relaxed his muscles. Their ankles tangled, and Jim pulled his hands down to rub Spock’s sides while the other continued to rub Jim’s back until the Vulcan’s own hands found their way to Jim’s neck. They stroked the three bonding glands with gentle brushes, the two at the junction of his neck and shoulders, and the one that rested on the back of his neck. Jim began to squirm a little and his legs tightened while his toes curled into one of Spock’s calves, the other in the fabric of his sweats.

“Would it not be more effective if I also did not wear a shirt?” Spock’s voice sounded rough, and Jim had to hold back a sound of excitement hearing the Vulcan’s own.

“It would be more effective if we didn’t wear anything,” Jim mumbled into the Vulcan’s thick chest.

Hands moved down Jim’s sides and gently Spock turned them, so Jim was put on his back and the Vulcan kneeled between the omega’s legs. “Then it would be best to remedy that, would it not?”

“For an alpha with a fiancée and a girlfriend, you seem very excited to get me undressed,” Jim teased.

Spock took off his shirt and tossed it away. Delicate hands softly caressed up and down Jim’s chest, pausing occasionally to admire the piercings the omega had been gifted.

“For an omega that wants to keep this relationship professional, you spill slick as if you intend to steal my focus for hours,” the Vulcan retorted, voice deep.

The alpha’s voice did things to Jim. Gush slick certainly was high on that list. Spock was dirty and quick-witted. If the scent of the alpha or his arousal alone did not make Jim slick, his quick banter certainly did. The Vulcan’s lips pressed along Jim’s neck, and the omega tilted his head just so, allowing Spock to gently rub his cheek along the gland he had already manipulated earlier. Jim gasped and squirmed under the alpha, his legs hooked around Spock’s to gain leverage to grind his hips up against Spock’s.

“Alpha,” the omega mewled when Spock rocked his hips back against him.

“Omega, if you needed sex, you should have said so plainly,” Spock whispered, breath hot against Jim’s neck. “We have already agreed that you must follow your instincts. Allow me to help you.”

Jim wished desperately that he had better control over himself. A week out of heat, and he still acted as though he was under the influence of such strong hormones. However, it was not just hormones that drove him to this state, Jim could feel how those deeply hidden omegan instincts begged the man to hand himself over to the alpha. Spock seemed to easily pull those instincts out of him, regardless of the morning hour, and Jim not yet fully woken up. Instincts insisted that giving himself over to the alpha would be easy. Jim in his own logical mind reminded him that he should give himself over. Doctor’s orders.

Still, Jim struggled with his inner self that now reared its ugly head to force Jim to face how evident it was that Nurse Chapel had been right. Not only was Jim desperate for an archaically traditional Alpha-omega relationship. But the omega was desperate for Spock, the only alpha he had ever been truly desperate for. Carol’s influence had nothing on the pure spicy musk Spock stole him with. Here Jim was, leaking slick, his body seemingly ready at any moment for his alpha, so the alpha could get what he wanted while the omega got what was needed. Despite how lost in his thoughts Jim had become, it seemed Spock had taken the opportunity of the docility to manipulate them both so their pants could join their shirts tossed in the mess of the failed nest.  

Almost immediately, Jim rubbed his cocklett against Spock’s lubricated member. The man panted and gasped at the slick slide against the Vulcan’s dripping member and the loose skin where Spock’s knot would fill from now on. That loose skin certainly had not been there before Jim’s heat, at least if it had, Spock’s knot had grown to such a size during Jim’s heat to become more obvious. Jim likely would find himself apologizing later to Spock because it probably did not feel good to suddenly stretch skin and experience a full-sized knot. Knotting an omega for the first time, Jim had heard, could be overwhelming on all the senses that flooded an alpha.

Spock did not let Jim’s rutting go on very long. With the omega’s legs wrapped around the Vulcan’s slim waist, Spock took hold of Jim’s hips to manipulate their positioning. The omega shivered in anticipation as his slick leaked and his cunt was exposed more fully to the cold air and wet drip of Spock’s warm lubricant. Jim was sure to keep still, hands clung to Spock’s shoulders as he lined up his member. But first, he slid his cock through Jim’s arousal-swollen lips until they were slick and parted enough that he could press the head of his member against the omega’s leaking and twitching hole.

“What do you need, omega?” Spock asked.

“Filled,” Jim gasped, unable to stop himself. Later, he would pray to the stars he was not always like this. “Fill me, so empty. Need your scent. Need your seed.”

 In less than a breath, the alpha plunged his member inside of Jim. The omega cried out as he arched off the bed. One hand clung desperately to Spock’s pale, flushed green skin, the other found a pillow to grab from behind his head. Jim’s eyes rolled in the back of his head. Small puffs of airy moans were punched out of him as Spock worked his cock deeper with hard and focused thrusts. Outside of heat, Jim could feel the stretch of his Vulcan again, just like their first time. It was the perfect mixture of dull pain and the pleasure of every nerve on fire inside of him being stroked. Let Jim not fail to mention how the ridges of Spock’s dick head rubbed his sweet spot just right every thrust in and teased his tightening rim on every pull out.

The heels of Jim’s feet dug into Spock’s lower back, encouraging a quick, brutal pace. Which had Jim chanting and writhing. Spock’s face was buried in Jim’s neck, his forehead pressed into the bed next to Jim’s neck, while his teeth teased Jim’s exposed bond gland. Regardless of how well his g-spot was or was not hit did not matter, Jim was being spread on a cock no other alpha had the ability to give the omega. No one as thick, no one ridged, no one who knew how to roll their hips despite the swiftness of the pace. The omega was already on the edge, gasping and whining loudly as he clawed the sheets behind his head. He arched up more and forced himself to rock up and down Spock’s cock, meeting the pace the Vulcan had set until he screamed and creamed around the thick member that fucked through his orgasm tightened pussy.

Jim’s cocklett spilled a little more too at the sound of the way Spock’s moan reverberated through his body as he came inside the omega. Only as he came, he pulled out to finish orgasming. His seed spilled across Jim’s cunt and cocklett and over his belly near where his naval piercing glimmered. The omega shook from the sensation of his orgasm continuing despite Spock’s lack of stimulation, and his legs fell flat on the bed. Hot breath continued to caress Jim’s sweat-soaked skin, and the omega continued to shiver and writhe. Eventually, when it seemed Spock had enough time soaking in the thick scent at the junction of Jim’s neck and shoulder, he finally pulled away and sat back with legs folded and tucked underneath. However, his member still jutted from his body as if he hadn’t just orgasmed. Vulcans were incredible, an omega’s (or woman’s) wet dream. At least Spock was; Jim had no experience with other Vulcans to date.

“Turn over, present omega,” Spock commanded.

Eager to please and be filled again Jim took the space Spock had given him to flip around, head and shoulders flat on the bed and hips arched up with knees and feet spread wide to offer his cunt on perfect display. The cum that Spock had spilled inside he could feel leak out and a whine filled the room as Jim’s fingers sought to push it back inside. A more rational part of Jim’s mind had him biting the sheets to prevent himself from saying something shameful or insane. They barely knew each other. And as eager as Spock seemed, giving the Vulcan all of the rambling and embarrassing desires he had did not seem like the best route to take.

Spock pushed aside Jim’s hands, and the omega shivered with anticipation as he allowed his hand to fall back to the bed with his other, entirely useless. Jim had only ever given himself over to an alpha like this in heat. Out of heat, he would never allow one to bend him over with just a command. Alpha voice had evolved out of their species, thankfully, just like the third molar, unnecessary and vestigial, a function that could no longer fit within the physiology of the human species. However, something inside of Jim wanted to present himself for Spock. Quivered as he felt the Vulcan’s head breach his dripping cunt and firm hands hold his hips in place.

Presentation was a bit archaic, but it worked well when one was in heat and getting knotted. Made it easier on the body. Outside of heat, presenting was practically objectifying oneself. Becoming an object to be used for the purposes of breeding and multiplying as an alpha wished. That thought alone, acknowledging his body did this for Spock, had Jim whimpering into the sheets he bit down on. The utterances that rushed through his mind and wished to spill out excited him as he attempted to push back on the Vulcan’s cock to take what he needed. However, Spock was firm in his grip and steady in his thrust.

“It might be an appropriate time to remind you that I am a touch telepath,” Spock said, voice steady as if he weren’t fucking into Jim’s spasming wet cunt.

Jim moaned loudly as his teeth released the sheet because embarrassment had flooded his entire being. His hands slid up to grip his hair and hide his face.

“I am not disturbed by your desires, omega,” Spock continued, his hips thrusts maddening. “You should feel free to speak your desires. It may release you and bring me to a deeper understanding of my mate.”

Jim groaned and continued to cover his face. “I can’t say it. Too soon,” the man rushed between thrusts. “We’re… not mates,” Jim added.

Spock gave a particularly hard thrust at the omega’s last statement, and a sob of pleasure fell past his open, drooling lips.

“Your scent tells me otherwise. Your thoughts speak a different tune. I might mention in heat, you certainly propositioned me every time I knotted you.”

Jim’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he reached a hand back again. Outer fingers squeezed his labia around the member his cunt sucked in and tightened to refuse exit. Inner fingers followed Spock’s cock in and out of his body, feeling the loose knot skin that seemed to start to fill from the attention of Jim’s squeezing channel. The pace picked up a bit more, but the rhythm remained. Spock was not one to go erratic, lost in pleasure. Regardless, Jim was moaning and drooling, his cocklett dripping a few drops of squirt, not enough to have it spilling again fully. The knot was not as thick as Jim had remembered from heat and Spock clearly felt emboldened to thrust it in and out of Jim’s cunt.

“Fuck,” the omega cursed each time. His world shook. “Yes,” he chanted despite the ache. “More,” he begged, desiring the attention.

Every thrust in the omega felt whole, every pull out tugged at the tightening ring of muscles, setting fire to his nerves and excited him more. Each time those ridges would rub his sweet spot, more squirt and slick would spill. Spock was obliging Jim and simultaneously doing as he pleased. Jim was close to orgasm, and though he assumed Spock might be as well, it seemed unlikely with how well he held himself together. Either that was a Vulcan state of being and in rut, or during Jim’s heat, he had little control, or he truly was not near his edge despite the small knot. A rarity for alphas outside of heat or rut. Jim knew why this was occurring. Not just because they were mates, but because his body was desperately begging to be bred. And despite Spock’s inability to successfully fertilize the omega’s womb, his alpha body seemed eager to try in spite.

One harsh thrust had Jim falling over the edge again, his cunt latching on tight to the knot and thick cock unwilling to let go. Slick gushed around the member that filled the omega so perfectly, and a small spurt of squirt left his cocklett. Spock had not cum yet and Jim’s body was certainly displeased as it spasmed and tightened further around the member. The attempt to milk an alpha outside of heat was entirely useless, but physiology did as it ought to do regardless of barriers. When it seemed Jim’s body had given even a little bit of leeway, Spock’s pace fucking his knot in and out of Jim continued.

The omega was fully collapsed and a puddle of pleasure and overstimulation under Spock. Allowing the Vulcan, his alpha, to take what he needed sent his omega desires soaring. Soft pants and gasps were pushed out with each thrust. Jim felt the aching need and desire satiate again. Though he was no longer in heat, his body treated every moment he smelled Spock’s scent as if he were. At this rate, Jim was unsure he’d ever rise through the ranks to Captain if his body needed this all the time. And Jim could see himself needing to lend his body to Spock like this at any time the Vulcan so desired.

When Spock did orgasm, Jim was not sure what sent the Vulcan over the edge. The trust he gave with his body, the submissive thoughts and desires to hand himself over to conservative tradition, or merely the tight wet heat of his cunt. Regardless, Spock kept his knot inside of Jim, and let the omega’s legs collapse so he rested on top of Jim. Luckily, Jim was not small by any definition, and though he was generally slimmer than the thickly muscled Vulcan, he still had some adipose remaining from his heat that cushioned the alpha on top of him. Spock’s lips caressed the bonding gland beneath Jim’s skin at the nape of his neck, pulling a shiver from the human. Ever so gently Spock ground his hips into Jim’s cunt, a rumble of pleasure vibrating through the omega.

“You are going to be difficult,” Soock whispered into his skin.

Jim answered with a questioning hum, eyes shut, mouth open and wet.

“How am I meant to get anything done when I know you rest here with your cunt begging to be filled with seed, dick, and knot?” Spock asked.

A soft whine left Jim, and he rubbed his face, embarrassed, into the sheets.

“I do not know how you managed this long. It is no wonder you have fallen so deeply into the desires you have been avoiding.”

Jim shivered. Spock read him so well. Or at least his mind. Jim had been told he had loud thoughts sometimes. Lips sucked on the lobe of Jim’s left ear, undecorated, though the omega was sure that would be remedied soon. Spock did not seem like the type of alpha to dally covering an omega in finery. They were together for all intents and purposes, regardless of how professionally they were able to distance themselves, and any alpha would keep gifting until their omega was covered and then some. A rough tongue licked along the shell, and teeth gently grabbed the top of Jim’s ear. Spock seemed keen on exploring while his cock continued to intermittently spill cum. Jim felt himself falling more into his position. Engulfed and speared by his alpha. Safe. Protected. Satiated (for the moment).

A nest could be made with these scents. With what would drip from his cunt when Spock did finally depart from him. It was a long time before Spock departed, but Jim had fallen into a light slumber. Light enough to feel how Spock’s hands ran across his body in admiration. How dexterous fingers explored his cunt, spreading lips to watch cum spill, tease his wilted cocklett. Jim was not in such a light sleep to do anything in response, simply allowing the attention to wash over him.

Eventually, the smell of freshly cooked breakfast wafted through the apartment, and Jim felt himself rise from the dead. Making his nest was quick work, mostly because he had no idea what he was doing. But with his and Spock’s discarded clothes, the cum that had spilled on the sheets, and their scents soaked in everything Jim was satisfied with what he’d done. Surely it would improve with more practice, but Jim was also positive his alpha would not scold him for what he had done. Practice made perfect, even genius prodigies weren’t expected to be perfect at everything on the first try. The omega dressed himself for a casual day at home before he left his bedroom.

“Who knew Vulcans knew how to cook a gourmet breakfast!” Jim called in excitement.

Chapter Text

“Jim, may I ask you a question? I have been curious.”

“What’s your question?” The omega hummed in response but did not break his focus on the chessboard.

“It may actually be more than a singular question, admittedly,” Spock clarified.

Jim laughed and looked up at Spock as he fiddled with the Vulcan’s white bishop he’d captured among other pieces. “That’s fine too, go ahead.”

“You mentioned that you desire traditional Alpha-omega dynamics, but you seemed hesitant to even suggest that you desire anything close to archaic conservative sex dynamic roles,” Spock spoke just as carefully as he made his next move.

“Is there a question in there?” Another breathy laugh was pulled from Jim, making his next play.

“Many,” Spock replied short quick to reply on the board as well.

Any outsider in the chess park would see a stony Vulcan and a very serious chess game, but Jim was already attuned to Spock’s scent from just a short period spent together. The omega could smell the hint of anxiety that weaved in Spock’s spicy, bitter scent.

“Why the hesitation?” Spock asked first.

“Good first question,” Jim paused, “Loaded too.” He moved a piece before his actions could reflect his thoughts, which made him feel messy and entangled. “Human societies—thanks to Vulcans as you often like to point out—are very different than they were a hundred and two hundred years ago. Birth control was introduced to omegas in the mid-twentieth century, and they were expected to wear protective collars. Then came birth control for Alphas in the late twenty-first century, after Vulcan’s first contact.”

Spock moved a piece as he listened.

“Alphas had always been on top, but when Vulcans altered society, betas rose to the top, and that’s when alphas were muzzled. I think Vulcans, with the information provided by betas, believed alphas to be inherently flawed, unsafe, and aggressive. While omegas were seen as the opposite, I think betas and Vulcans thought they were doing us some sort of favor, muzzling alphas.”

“Maintaining prevailing hegemony while disgusting the shift as actual change,” Spock acknowledged.

“Exactly, and maybe omegas didn’t have to wear collars anymore, but suddenly the hierarchical roles were flipped and not by omegas, but by betas.”

Jim took a breath, attempting to recenter his thoughts because he was sure he was getting off track with the answer to Spock’s question. It was easy to just run his mouth, and provide the context to an answer with Spock, the Vulcan listened. Understood. Spock even seemed genuinely interested in understanding Jim’s thought process behind a simple answer. Finally, Jim moved a piece in reply when he found himself more centered again. It took no time for Spock to move a piece, but he did seem to hesitate, and Jim appreciated it.

“Eventually, that all got sort of settled and fixed by the turn of the twenty-second century, thankfully, but omegas really had to push for alphas’ liberation from themselves and betas. Vulcans weren’t innocent in all of this either, but that’s not the part pertinent to your question.” Jim moved a piece. “Alpha-omega dynamics were oppressive for all sexes. Sure, alphas were the original perpetrators and enforcers, but after hundreds of years of that sort of dynamic, at least in the Western world, everyone becomes a perpetrator. Just because the whole of the entire Earth was eventually changed doesn’t mean that individuals don’t cling to some of those values. And given the current predicament we are in, systems still make us feel the lingering effects of those values.”

“Do you cling to those values?” Spock asked, his voice was quiet, cautious.

It was difficult to see the sincerity, but the Vulcan clearly wanted to understand Jim better, so he could get better. Spock had not even yet moved a chess piece, which certainly meant he was emotionally engaged enough to be distracted from a game that he could win asleep. The physical healing of Jim’s body would be a difficult task, and a conversation surrounding it certainly required dedicated focus. Especially because they would not have answers for another two months or so about their assignments. And even then, more months of waiting to see if Jim’s body ever settled down.

“My parents did,” Jim answered. “I grew up on a low-tech farm and for the first thirteen years was treated one way before it got switched up.”

“That is disruptive,” Spock replied as he finally made his move, a distraction from his admission. “I had a similar experience.”

“Tell me?” Jim asked as he met Spock’s eyes.

Spock appeared frozen, searching Jim’s own eyes for sincerity, empathy, and some emotion that might make Jim appear safe to divulge information to. While Jim thought it only seemed logical that Spock shared a little while Jim gave, unwillingly, so much, that did not mean the emotion of trust was present or logical. Jim gave Spock the same focus, ignoring their game in favor of showing he was present and willing to listen without allowing a distraction to get in the way. That seemed to provide Spock enough confidence that he motioned for Jim to make a move while he took a breath to prepare his answer.

“My mother is human and my father Vulcan, as you know,” Spock began. “Vulcans have a variety of telepathic bonds, marriage, familial, and the greater bond to our species that is less tangible but no less present. For Vulcans, physical connection is not entirely necessary for the health and well-being of children or adults. The pre-marital bond I have should have been all I needed. My mother, being human, had disregarded my father’s insistence that I did not need physical connection or close parental attention.

"She did not listen until the year after my pre-marital bond, after I passed my coming-of-age trial, and after my childhood pet had died. Then she listened to him. That was around the same time we brought my sister into our household. Michael was given all that my mother was no longer allowed to give me because Michael was human. Logically, Michael needed those aspects of my mother because she was human and had always had that. But I did not need the attention of my mother in that way because I was Vulcan and should have everything I needed for appropriate growth and development. Likely, the change in parenting was a coincidence, but as a young child, I did not see a coincidence.”

“You saw someone have the connection you and your mother were reprimanded for, that is traumatizing,” Jim sighed and broke their eye contact. The omega decided to make his final move on the board. “My brother said you had issues with empathy and compassion. Vulcans generally don’t have issues accessing those emotions when necessary or expressly logical, but you aren’t entirely Vulcan. Being denied emotional and physical connection with your parents, having distance that in some ways feels like a punishment, especially when others get to receive what you used to have…That can make humans entirely disconnect socially and emotionally. So, with a human-Vulcan hybrid, you’d probably end up with someone with an adjustment issue.”

“Are you attempting to psychiatrically diagnose me?” the Vulcan quirked a slanted brow up, though his eyes displayed a glimmer of mirth while he won the game.

“Well, if we’re talking about traditional values and ideologies,” Jim teased.

“Admittedly, I was not well adjusted, but there were other factors that affected my behavior as well. A lot of personal work has been done for me to get to a point where we can have this conversation,” Spock replied, “Or to the point where your brother is close enough to me to have an opinion on my emotionality.”

“My parents divorced when I was ten and Sam ran away,” Jim replied a few moments after their game had ended. “We have beta parents. They were entirely unprepared for kids with secondary sexes. My father invested in Sam his entire life and cared little about what I did. So, my mother had me help her around the house when she was around, and when she wasn’t, I was taking care of household duties. When dad wasn’t around, I was completely ignored.”

“You and your brother were put into strict roles as children,” Spock acknowledged, “what occurred after the divorce?”

Jim sucked in a breath. “Sam left because he hated being molded into a mimic of our dad. My mom wanted to have a career, and also, marry the man she cheated on my father with. This guy had been...Well, let me just say, Sam ran away, this guy tried to discipline me, so I drove his Corvette off a ravine. To get me out of trouble, my father took me to a colony. There was still farm work, but I’d finished my high school education so early, all George wanted to do was make me the son he couldn’t turn Sam into. So when I presented, he decided I was expected to act as Sam did. Then some traumatic things happened, and blah, blah, blah, I joined Starfleet at seventeen. Between self-suppressing my needs as a young teen and my needs being involuntarily suppressed. Suddenly I was—am—an adult and have no idea what I am doing.”

“You threw yourself into omega communities and reclamation because it fulfilled subconscious and conscious desires enough,” Spock started, “The conscious efforts are not enough to satisfy the subconscious, and when you are forced to confront your subconscious desires they come from a historically oppressive dynamic and you feel shame.”

“You really are too smart for your own good and for my own good,” Jim laughed. “The hesitation is in part from feeling shame at wanting to submit, to be a houseomega like my mother prepared me to be, barefoot and pregnant.”

Spock’s eyebrow twitched at the last word. Jim was flushed at the admission; he knew his scent was a mixture of sweet lust and dry shame. The latter did nothing to lessen Spock’s interest in Jim’s subconscious desires, rather the omega could smell the interest his alpha had in what Jim needed.

“Obviously,” Jim cleared his throat and spoke quieter as if anyone might overhear them, “I have no interest in being a houseomega, barefoot, or pregnant. If that wasn’t clear.”

“It is clear,” Spock assured.

Jim believed him. After Carol, he could tell when an alpha thought they knew better for him. Spock seemed more interested in the potential games they might have with Jim’s desires for a semi-permanent time rather than the opportunity others saw to permanently place Jim in a submissive role. Eventually, their archaic dynamic would come to an end, and the semi-permanent game would become casual in nature. But for now, it seemed this dynamic would be a necessary theatrical component to their home life.

“Why the question about my hesitation?”

“I felt it was pertinent information to understand if I am meant to help you become more stable and healthier,” Spock replied.

“Knowing I have a breeding kink is pertinent information?” Jim deadpanned.

“In consideration of the goals you have, and by extension, I have for you, in addition to the boundaries you have established for our relationship, did you have an idea of how we might successfully proceed?”      

Jim was a bit annoyed that Spock ignored his question, meant to shock, but moved on. “Obviously, my original goal had been to keep our relationship strictly within the bounds of heat, but that’s not possible and won’t help me in the long run. Nor our careers. The dynamic between alpha and omega in the extremely traditional sense is probably going to be necessary in our home, but outside—”

“I would never bring it beyond the bounds of our apartment nor even the bedroom if you needed to keep it so restricted.”

“I appreciate that, but home is…the right size. And it’s not like alpha voice exists any longer so I’m not worried I’ll be commanded to do career changes I don’t want,” Jim hummed.

“May I ask then, if you seek something traditional, would you dress yourself to reflect what you want?” Spock asked with feigned innocent curiosity.

Jim could smell that the question was not so innocent, but the Vulcan played the part very well. The omega wondered if anyone believed it. “Obviously, the way I express my gender is very masculine. I’ve never been interested in omega-specific clothes before.”

“That is not a no,” Spock reflected.

The human pursed his lips. “It’s not a yes either.”

The Vulcan laid his hand down palm open on the table and exposed his wrist. Jim’s hand abandoned a chess piece to do a scent exchange.

“I can tell you’ll be walking the fine line of all the boundaries we’ve set,” Jim sighed resigned to his fate. “I have to go, class to teach, students to fail.”

Spock tilted his head, eyes sparkling, acknowledging the humor. “I will see you at home. My classes are finished for the day,” Spock relayed.

Jim gave a nod and reluctantly pulled away. “See you for dinner.”

Jim had come home while Spock had been cooking and went straight to the shower with barely a greeting. The Vulcan had not been bothered by Jim’s behavior; they had not spent much time as roommates or as a duo, so they were both growing used to each other’s idiosyncrasies. Despite the small amount of time spent together, Spock knew that when he taught certain classes, his mood was worse, and he did not take his impoliteness personally. So, while Jim bathed, Spock left a gift on the man’s nested bed.

“What’s this box?” Jim asked.

Dinner cooked, and Spock attempted patience by using his newfound cooking skills thanks to Christopher Pike’s tutelage. Spock had a better handle on it compared to Jim; the omega had cooked for them one time, and Spock had become sick while Jim had an allergic reaction. It was safer that Spock cooked for them regardless of how their dynamic was. The Vulcan sauteed a variety of summer vegetables while he baked a small steak for Jim in the oven. He focused on the scent of his approaching omega to distract himself from cooking meat. Jim entered the kitchen in a robe with wet hair that dripped on his face.  He set the box down on their small dining table with a hand on his hip and the other on top of the box in question.

“You are normally excited for a gift,” Spock noted.

The worry was evident in Jim’s hazel eyes and the scent the omega tried to control through his strict breathing.

“You were meant to open it in privacy to decide what you would like to do.”

Jim hummed. “You’re giving me the choice?”

“Have I ever forced a gift on you?” Spock asked with a serious tone and a brow raised.

“No,” Jim sighed, his eyes darted between the gift and Spock, “I guess not.”

“I cannot force you to do what your subconscious desires. This experiment will only work if you choose to give in,” Spock replied.

Although Spock was an alpha meant to help Jim submit, successful submission had to come from intentional release. Spock had researched all that he could, and with the unfortunate help of T’Pring, who had become as invested as she had when attempting to please Spock herself. The omega pressed his lips flat together before he disappeared with the box again. Some time passed, and Spock had to call Jim for dinner, an action he would not normally do, but it seemed the omega needed more time and privacy. After Spock had set the table the way he planned, he stood in wait for Jim while the tea steeped.

The omega eventually came out. Though his pace was slow and he held his body in severely contradictory ways. Somehow demure while also maintaining his typical confident posturing. Fingers were clasped behind his back, with his shoulders and head hunched forward just slightly. Jim had not bothered to slick his hair back, which allowed his fringe to brush either side of his cheekbones. The garment the omega wore was a version of a traditional Salan-sai and his gaze flickered between gazing down upon himself and Spock.

The fabric was sheer, but green, rather than ceremonial white. The gold clasp that rested at the joint of his clavicles and sternum was far simpler than traditional, ostentatious, bejeweled clasps Vulcans wore. It was the only mechanism that held the garment on. Fabric draped in an illusion of a typical gown, but in reality, the sides of the omega’s body were covered, and the garment was open in the back and the front. A haltered top exposed Jim’s muscular and broad shoulders, which were beginning to lose their fat stores, and exposed the bones that peeked under his pink, flushed skin. Shoulders lightly freckled, just as Spock’s own were, and tanned a deeper red from his time spent in the sun. The fabric was just long enough to hide his feet, but not trip the omega as he slowly glided deeper into their common area.

“You’re not saying anything,” Jim whispered, the intensity of his voice wavered as self-imposed confidence seemed to fade.

“There are no words,” Spock replied as he moved around the counter to meet Jim in the middle. “The cloak of breezes suits you, omega.”

A shiver ran through Jim’s body. “I’m not sure about it—never worn a dress before.”

Spock reached and with ease pushed his hand between the two halves to run his hand across Jim’s chest and cup his pectoral. His thumb brushed the pierced nub as he admired the half of Jim’s body he had exposed from the simple move. Jim quaked under his touch and pressed forward. Thoughts at the surface of the omega’s skin conveyed he was fearful he might collapse into a puddle. The omega trusted him despite his thoughts and continued to allow Spock to gently fondle one pec and nipple.

“It is not a dress, it is a Salan-sai. A type of robe,” Spock replied, voice low and thick with arousal. It may not have been the best idea to introduce the garment right before a meal. “Typically worn on a hot day when it is not ceremonial, but exceptions can be made.”

“I do,” Jim paused to audibly swallow, “feel hot.”

“I can smell your arousal,” Spock acknowledged, “you are dripping omega.” The Vulcan slowly pulled his hand away, and Jim trembled at the loss. “I suspected you would find yourself more easily able to commit if dressed more appropriately. Today, you will sit kneeled, and I will feed you.”

The omega’s hazel eyes became almost hazy as they wandered to the dining table where appropriate cushioning had been placed beside a chair. The cushions were decorated with a weave over the top that appeared to have Vulcan writings along the edges. Without needing to be commanded, the omega slid past Spock to kneel on the cushions straight back with hands folded in his lap. A sigh of relief passed through Jim’s soft, wet lips. Spock, satisfied that they would not be engaged in a battle for the night, collected the tea and food for their meal. There would be nights when they would fight for control over the situation. The Vulcan was all too aware that control would decay under other circumstances, but Jim appeared to need to give in more than any other day. And a strict traditional role would put the omega in his place.

Once seated, Spock gently guided Jim’s head so his cheek rested on the Vulcan’s thigh. Another sigh, and the omega seemed to melt and slump against the alpha. One hand was gentle as long, delicate fingers ran through Jim’s un-styled curly locks. The other hand was busy ensuring Spock ate first. With his hands in the omega’s hair, he could monitor what he needed and ensure he was not actually starving or desperately in need of sustenance because of low sugars. Midway through his meal, the omega released a vibrational noise Spock had no idea humans were capable of.

Vulcans could purr, but the evolutionary ancestors of Vulcans were entirely different from the primate family humans sat comfortably within. In all his research, few documents had suggested it was possible to get an omega to purr in contentment. They were thought to be high-stress creatures with waning trust, so if an omega purred, it was a rare, usually undocumented event. Spock would certainly commit this moment to memory, though he would not share how he got Jim to this place. Documentation of this moment would more than likely be a detriment to omegas as a whole. Spock would not participate or engage with a system that might easily turn its back on omegas.

The Vulcan gave himself a goal to repeat this sound without Spock having to put the omega into a medically necessary submissive role. The purr had sustained Spock’s desires for Jim through the completion of his meal. When he finally turned his focus on his omega, he lifted Jim’s head so he could reposition himself and put the man between his legs. Ever so gently, he brought Jim’s head back down to his thigh so it rested on the softer inner portion.

“Are you hungry, omega?” Spock asked.

Jim’s eyes seemed to clear up in an instant, and a flash of malice crossed his mind. However, the omega did not seem ready to engage in confrontation yet; rather, he said nothing to evaluate how to answer without his suspicions sounding through. It seemed the omega had forgotten that Spock was a touch telepath, so he waited patiently for Jim to settle enough to come up with an appropriate response.

“I could eat a meal,” Jim replied, voice tense, all evidence of a relaxed purr washed away.

Spock replied with a calm nod, and as one hand continued to stroke Jim’s hair, the other brought a slice of steak to his lips. Brown eyebrows raised in shock, and lips parted to allow Spock to feed the omega his first bite. Surprise filtered through Jim’s thoughts, and the omega seemed to relax some measure more when Spock brought another bite with a vegetable this time to Jim’s lips.

“I do not know who has treated you so callously before that you would believe I meant innuendo rather than actually give you food,” Spock spoke kindly.

Pain and anxiety flitted through Jim’s mind, but he continued to eat without protest.

“There is a lot of research that suggests you should not drop your fatty tissue as quickly as you do after heat. Either your hormones are so out of control that they overmetabolize, or you do not eat as much as you should. I believe the latter is more likely,” Spock continued to speak as he fed Jim. “I will not believe I will be able to instill good habits into you, but you will allow me the comfort I gain knowing my omega is well fed.”

Hazel eyes squeezed shut, and Jim seemed to fall heavier into Spock. Some comfort seemed to have been gained, trust even, that Spock had no aim to change Jim, simply meet him where he was at. After a few more bites of food, Jim seemed to fully relax again, and though he was not purring, he ate more than Spock had expected. The omega also had done well in keeping still despite how aroused Spock knew he was. Pink-tipped cocklett peaked out from the mess of fabric erected, and the scent of slick was heavy in the air. Even Jim’s pierced buds were easy to see hardened under the drape of the layered fabric.

If the pair were to be observed by an outsider, Spock was sure they appeared to be from an entirely different universe where Vulcans conquered humans. And Spock could understand why he might feel the urge. The round curve of Jim’s red flushed ear, and long brown lashes that brushed his freckled skin, all delicate in a masculine form. Maybe it was simply omegas, but Spock’s First Officer was one, and he never observed such beauty nor felt such a primal urge from Una's form. Certainly, professional was not how he would describe this moment with Jim. The Vulcan’s interest in Jim was nothing close to reflecting professionalism, but he supposed he was allowed for a moment. They had agreed their professional relationship would be extremely complicated, bordering on being mates.

Delicate fingers traced Jim’s wet lips one last time before they pushed through soft, dirty blond hair. The omega sighed happily and eyes opened once more, clouded with submission and lust. Spock could hardly imagine Jim in any high position within Starfleet. It only made Spock all the more curious to see the man in his element in space. Quiet panting breaths passed Jim’s slightly parted lips. Spock wanted to kiss, desperately, but they had quickly established that was far too intimate for the professional distance they were attempting to maintain.

“I have papers to grade omega, but I know your cunt needs to be filled, so allow me to get settled at my desk and you can fill yourself with what you need,” Spock spoke his own arousal graveling his voice.

Jim gave a nod and stood as Spock stood, holding the Vulcan for support. His body shook minutely in the effort it took to keep himself right. They never spent time together in Spock’s hardly used bedroom, finding favor in Jim’s nest. However, Spock did have work to complete, and he knew a balance of his duties was important. That was, if they were to maintain any sense of professionalism. This activity also served to test Jim’s patience, desperation, and limitations. If Spock could pull that pre-heat omega aggression out in other moments, there might be something to learn about why he acted the way he did before and during his heat.

Sat in the chair at his desk, he made space for Jim to quietly shuffle until he was working his way to straddle the Vulcan’s lap. Spock gave his assistance and released his member from his pants, giving himself a few strokes to keep Jim’s attention focused on the main goal. The omega suddenly took control, and Spock allowed him that inch. Jim took hold of the Vulcan’s cock, gave it a few firm strokes before he held it in place while his hips rose and then sunk on the member with ease. The omega was drenched and loose from wanton desire; it would have been unnecessary for Spock to prep Jim. Though he really wished he had at least admired the other’s dripping cunt in his robe before this moment. Once breached, the omega’s cunt tightened around the intrusion, slowly taking Spock in as Jim’s hips took their time to fall.

Once fully sheathed inside of his omega’s hot, wet heat, he jostled them to bring them close to the desk. The cursing mewl Jim released was a surprised sound that ended with the omega bouncing on Spock’s cock with desperation. Spock had intended for Jim to merely sit and enjoy being full, but after the pleasurable shock to his system, it seemed all the omega wanted was to ride Spock with fury. Despite needing to get work done, the Vulcan leaned back in his chair and just enjoyed watching Jim work himself up and down his cock. Their bodies were flush together, Spock’s shirt stained by Jim’s leaking cocklett, and the Salan-sai fell open more to reveal most of the omega’s torso. Thick fingers dug into Spock’s shoulders, and the Vulcan’s own delicate hands parted the fabric at the top of the omega’s chest so his hands could go back to fondling Jim’s pectorals and nipples.

“Alpha,” Jim began to pant and gasp from stimulation.

“Omega,” Spock breathed in reply. His head dropped back on the top of his chair. “Your cunt is perfect. I am meant to work, but you drip and squeeze—“

“Fuck,” Jim cursed. “Your mouth, filthy.”

“You need to settle omega. You are working yourself up with no end,” Spock attempted to soothe, despite how his thumbs pushed Jim’s hardened, pierced nipples.

His hands moved down Jim’s sides to hold his hips firmly in place. The omega whimpered and roughly rocked his hips, the minute shifts he could desperately make. Spock carefully moved an arm to wrap around Jim’s waist to keep him in place and flush against the Vulcan’s chest. His other hand pushed Jim’s face into his neck. The omega was forced to take in a deep breath of Spock’s scent and then continued as if he were starved and the alpha’s smell was all that could satiate him. It did not fully settle the omega, but Jim allowed himself to be tucked while he continued to minutely rock his hips. From there, Spock could partially compartmentalize enough to get some work done.

Grading was all he could truly focus on. The omega had arms tucked between their chests, hands clutched the Vulcan’s shirt, and air puffed in and out cyclically from his nose as he slowly moved. With the omega’s small rhythmic rocking, the omega’s channel tightened and loosened with every roll up and push down. Muffled whines and moans were almost distracting enough for Spock to take control again, but that would not help him or the omega in his lap. Occasionally, Spock would take in Jim’s scent, run his hands along the other’s body, and brush his lips along the omega’s round ear or strong jaw. They could not kiss, but that did not mean Spock could not use his mouth to tease the omega. 

At some point, Spock could not maintain as much control over himself as he wished. His hips rolled up, which in turn caused the omega to take control again. Actively riding Spock again, Jim kept his face firmly planted in the crook of the Vulcan’s neck. Spock’s hands held Jim’s hips firmly to assist the rhythm and the roll of the omega’s hips. Teeth took hold of Spock’s trapezius muscle without breaking skin, only teasing the Vulcan’s bonding glands. Spock knew what the omega wanted. Why he had stopped himself from speaking. Even if the omega’s thoughts were imperceptible, Spock knew Jim needed a knot. It was not entirely unheard of for bond-mated alphas to pop a knot outside of heat or rut, but they were not mated. However, Jim did have the benefit of a Vulcan as a match, and Vulcans were notorious for their control over physiology.

When Spock’s knot began to grow, the omega squirmed and moaned in delight. Maybe one day Spock would know which aspects in bed were simply Jim and which were an omega begging to be dominated and controlled. For now, the Vulcan would settle for doing his job as a professional, a Starfleet officer, and an alpha to an unattached omega in need of assistance. This also meant he did at least get to enjoy how the omega’s cunt clung and trapped Spock’s spilling member via his partially swollen knot. Jim quivered and tossed his head back as he moaned loud and long.

The sight was erotic. The omega fucked himself on Spock’s knot. Gasps burst as the Vulcan’s ridged head rubbed Jim’s sweet spot and sobs when the omega popped the alpha’s knot in and out of his clenching hole. Heat was nothing like having the omega wanton while lucid. The moment an orgasm spilled from Jim’s cocklett, the man shook hard, moan low, and stuttered while slick gushed from where his cunt clung to the base of the Vulcan’s cock. Calves squeezed Spock’s thighs where Jim had him trapped. Thick eyebrows furrowed, and mouth opened, panting. Hazel eyes stared into Spock’s deep chocolate once the omega was able to bring his head forward again. His forehead pressed against Spock’s as they simply gazed upon each other for a long moment until there was a small tilt at the corners of Jim’s mouth.

“Do not look at me like that,” Spock begged.

“You forced your body to pop a knot.” Jim smiled wider, mouth still open, panting.

“Why are you staring at me?” the Vulcan asked, insecurity prickling his mind.

“Because I must be lucky to have an alpha that can pop a knot without us being bonded,” Jim began to purr again. The omega hid his face in Spock’s neck to rub his cheeks on the bruised scent gland. “So good, so full, I could have you fuck me whenever. Thickest alpha cock I’ve ever had.”

“You are lucky,” Spock agreed with some humor. Hands gently ran up and down Jim’s exposed back, tugging at his ass cheeks as he dragged his hands up, or groping when he made his way back down. “I am lucky to have a responsive omega. I would happily fill you and knot you whenever you please.”

“Don’t say something you don’t mean. I’ve been told I’m insatiable,” Jim mumbled.

“I have no doubts you are, but I have been told quite the same. My appetite is large, and if I do not get my mouth on your cunt after this it will be a shame.”

Jim shivered, his cunt squeezed Spock’s knot again, milking another shot of cum from the alpha. “That’s why you have a fiancée, a girlfriend, and an omega?”

Spock chuckled and put aside the thought that told him he would have to think about that display of emotion. “If that is what you wish to believe.”

A few breaths later, Jim pulled away, still stuck on Spock’s knot but able to lean back against the edge of the desk so he could get a better look at the Vulcan. Spock could not help himself but bring his hands from Jim’s ass to touch his chest again. The alpha was obsessed with his omega’s body; this robe was a good choice, and he would find other fine clothing options for the omega to wear.

“The alpha high will go away soon,” Jim whispered and pushed thick fingers through Spock’s hair, gently caressing the Vulcan’s pointed ear. His chest pushed out a bit to encourage the alpha’s exploration. “Then I’ll leave you to work until I feel too empty to fall asleep on my own.”

“Alpha high,” Spock repeated, understanding his own emotional outburst a little better. “The endorphins are far more difficult to control than blood.”

Jim chuckled, “You should not have popped a knot if it was going to make you loopy like this. That’s a lot more effort than necessary.”

“No,” Spock disagreed, “it was necessary. You needed it, so I provided you with what I ought to.”

Chapter Text

There had been an almost chronic ache in Jim’s mind since the end of October. It did not occur every day, and so it was difficult to say if it was actually an issue Jim needed to address. However, with the headache came a full-body need. Spock satisfied Jim’s insane neediness very well, without question or protest, and always with enthusiasm. But even for the omega, his need had grown a bit out of control. Still, Jim figured he could try to hide it, he thought he did well too, and maybe if he got Spock revved up just for a night, the Vulcan would continue to not notice.

Jim stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables in an attempt to make dinner for Spock. The omega had not cleared making dinner for the Vulcan; it was rare Spock had plans. There was a tingle in the back of his mind that wished to remind him of an event he was supposed to be aware of, but when Jim tried to reflect deeper upon that memory, the thought suddenly stabbed his already aching skull. The knife clattered on the counter, and hands gripped the edge as Jim’s head dropped as a loud gasping whine of pain fell past his lips. The sound was cut off quickly when the door of the apartment slid open.

“Omega?” Spock called immediately upon entry.

Jim looked up, fearful that the Vulcan had heard him, but maintained his grip on the counter. “Spock,” he greeted with a constricted tone.

The Vulcan took the time to set his belongings in their appropriate places and did the same with some of Jim’s hastily discarded belongings. When the Vulcan eventually wandered over to the kitchen, the alpha paused at the entrance to rake his eyes up and down Jim’s body. The omega wore a cream-colored wrap-around robe that clung to his body like a second skin. Slits at the sides exposed his gently furred tanned legs and continued up until the height of his hips.

“What is the occasion?” Spock asked.

The Vulcan slipped around the corner of the counter, finally able to bring his eyes back up to meet Jim’s. Once at the man’s side, a single finger reached out and the Vulcan ran his well-manicured fingernail to caress along the silk edge of Jim’s robe rather than his skin. Enough pressure from his touch allowed Jim to feel the sharpness of the fingernail without his skin reacting with a raised line. The omega shivered from the erotic appreciative attention. Spock’s eyes were all heat, and Jim was pleased his state of appearance had drawn out that sensual scent that worked to chase his migraines away.

“Can’t you smell it?” Jim whispered.

“I can,” Spock acknowledged, “I can also smell the food you are cooking. Were you attempting to make dinner for me?”

Jim tilted his head to expose his neck. Hands relaxed, and he hoped Spock would feel enticed to give the omega what he needed. “I’m making dinner, not attempting.”

Spock looked as though he wanted to reply but chose rather to set a box down on the counter with the hand he had kept hidden behind his back.

“You are practically gifting me every day at this point,” Jim spoke with some reverence through the haze of the ache in his mind.

“A meal is not a gift, Jim,” Spock teased. The Vulcan came up behind the omega and set his own hands on the counter beside Jim’s. “I got you a gift because I believe it may help fill what I cannot when I am unavailable to you.”

“When are you going to be unavailable?” Jim asked.

The man glanced over his shoulder to the Vulcan whose lips gently pressed into the crook of Jim’s neck where his gland was. Spock pushed his hips into the omega’s clothed rear and Jim responded by pushing back with a slow arching roll of his hips.

“I have told you that T’Pring would arrive this morning and I would be indisposed for some time,” the Vulcan gently reminded.

Jim shut his eyes as they began to grind into one another. The ache in his mind pulsed at the reminder from his alpha while his body relished in the feeling of silk and Spock’s hardened cock trapped by the Vulcan’s garments.

“I forgot,” Jim sighed and dropped his head again, “I’m sorry. Bad headache today.”

Spock hummed thoughtfully against Jim’s skin. “Those have become frequent, and your needs have increased with them,” the Vulcan replied as his lips continued to rise to Jim’s jaw.  

“Need, yes,” Jim mumbled as he got lost in the heady scent of his alpha and his firm body.

“Would it not be more prudent for you to continue to cook before our separate guests arrive?” Spock asked.

“Can’t focus,” the omega muttered to ignore the line of questioning he could not fully understand. Jim removed his hands from the counter so he could push aside the garment and readjust how he bent over. From there the omega rose himself up to his toes to better expose his dripping cunt. “Please, I’m so empty, can’t think right.”

There was a long, heavy inhale from Spock that coaxed a shiver out of Jim, his breathing heaving and rushed. Jim licked his lips and sighed happily as the Vulcan rocked his clothed cock against his wet cunt.

“If you want my dick in your pussy, I suggest you open my pants yourself.”

Jim did not question Spock; if he had been in a better mindset, he might have wondered why the Vulcan couldn’t do it himself, but he was so desperate he did as he was told. He brought his hands behind himself, peered over his shoulder to watch as he expertly opened Spock’s pants. The Vulcan seemed to be in awe of Jim’s talent. That awe quickly morphed into pleasure when the omega managed to pull out Spock’s cock and rise himself up high enough to line the hard member up before engulfing the prick into his wet heat. Jim pushed down until his cunt was flush with the Vulcan’s pubis.

The man shivered and moaned out long as his channel spasmed and tightened around the member that impaled him. Full and now surrounded by his alpha, the migraine dissipated, and his body relaxed. Spock rolled his hips slightly, and Jim whined in protest. He did not need to be fucked, he needed to be full, connected. The omega made a point to loudly think those thoughts at Spock while the Vulcan continued to run his lips along Jim’s jaw and then his cheek.

“You do not know what you need,” Spock insisted as he rocked his leaking member in and out. A hand wandered to the front of Jim’s wrap to stroke the cocklett through the silk garment. “You dress in this robe, slick dripping down your thighs, pretending to cook. The picturesque houseomega. You do not know what you need beyond your alpha.”

“Please,” Jim begged as the Vulcan continued to rock into him. “Just need…”

The Vulcan scoffed. There was going to be a battle in the kitchen, it seemed. Jim knew he was unraveling; the migraines seemed to pull out his worst traits, paired with his neediness. There had been very few moments since they had started this relationship that Jim battled against Spock’s decisions, their positions, and their interactions. Most conflicts had been caused by these migraines. The scoff set the omega off, and so Jim pushed his hips down to chase Spock’s member as it dragged out. Jim’s hands pressed hard into the counter edge to focus on his balance and muscle control of the channel of his cunt.

“You do not know what you need,” Spock countered again and thrust into him hard. He pushed into the omega with enough force to pin the man’s hips against the counter. “Omega,” the Vulcan whispered in his ear, “You will listen and obey. Remain in this position, you will get your fill and find the relief you need.”

A growl escaped Jim’s throat from being pinned and denied what he wanted. Though he absolutely loved being pinned in place by Spock’s body, it was the fact that the Vulcan had no intention of just staying in place. While the human struggled against the strength of the Vulcan, Spock’s hands moved across the silk wrap, one hand wrapped around his neck, and the other held his lower back. The hand on Jim’s throat moved to rest under his jaw, arched his neck, and tilted his head back to reduce his air and expose his neck. Vulcan strength pinned the omega as Spock pulled out again and thrust back in.

“Fuck,” Jim cursed and pressed into the hand that held his throat.

The pace was firm and quick. Each thrust pushed out a gasping moan, and Jim slowly went limp in Spock’s hold against the counter. The omega certainly had not thought he wanted what Spock demanded of him. But, as usual, the alpha was right. And that was the whole purpose of their relationship. The pair of them followed their instincts to a tee, and what the omega thought he wanted often was not correct. Somehow, Spock always knew what he truly needed. Here they were, in the kitchen of all places, fucking the migraine and need out of Jim so they could move on with their night.

It did not take long until the Vulcan spilled in him. Spock fucked through his orgasm and Jim shook, near his own but still left high with the need unmet. The omega still quivered when Spock pulled out. The Vulcan stepped away from Jim and left the shaking human to hold himself up against the counter. Cum and slick dripped from his flexing and twitching cunt, left stretched open with no resolution.

“Walk to the nest you made in the living area,” Spock commanded from behind Jim.

The omega glanced over his shoulder to see the Vulcan casually stroke his still hard, slick member. Jim was not sure they had time for these games, but his mind was more focused on the task at hand. Receiving the release he wanted, needed, and listening to his alpha’s commands. Slowly, his wobbling legs took him out of the kitchen, hands gripped the dining chairs until he could hold onto the couch, where a mess of dirty linens and worn clothes had been made on the floor in front. There, Jim collapsed and sighed in some satisfaction being surrounded by his and Spock’s scent so thoroughly mixed. After he rolled around in the nest, he landed on his back and found that Spock loomed over him. Cock hard, shirt discarded, and shoes off. The Vulcan was still in his pants, though Jim supposed he was likely going to change before his betrothed arrived.

Jim slowly spread his legs, though his cocklett was visible, the fabric unable to hide the erection, it curled around the base, and the rest of the length pooled between his legs. Soaking cunt hidden from view. There was a loud thud where Spock’s knees met the ground between Jim’s spread legs. A flurry of movement that made the omega dizzy ended with symphonic groans from both men. Spock had managed within seconds to get Jim’s legs over his shoulders and thrust fully into his tight heat. The omega’s hips were off the ground, and his body was nearly bent in half where Spock’s hands rested on either side of Jim’s head. He was quick and brutal. Jim’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, hands gripped thick muscled arms, and his cunt tightened at each thrust like before. The omega chanted pleas of need and praises filled with desire.

“I want to see you stroke yourself,” Spock told the omega.

Jim obliged easily and brought his hand down to stroke hard in pace with Spock’s thrusts. “Alpha, fill…need to be full,” Jim begged.

There was a glint in the Vulcan’s eye that Jim recognized. He was reading Jim’s deeper thoughts, though still loud and obvious, to see if he could pull them through the omega’s lips. Despite attempting to bury them, each thrust into his cunt made him lose his focus on keeping his secrets.

“Why do you need to be full omega? What would make you full?” Spock asked, breathlessly, the only indication that he was physically exerting himself.

“Cum, cock, need your—“

“Why? Why is that what makes you full?” Spock asked again.

The omega whined high and loud, his head shook back and forth, lost in pleasure. Unwilling to answer the questions that would implicate him. It was one thing to play houseomega and be dicked down by his alpha match. It was a whole other concept to admit he had a fantasy that had only developed recently. A fantasy that felt shameful given what he had been through and how he felt.

“Don’t—“ Jim practically sobbed in pleasure. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I need to hear it,” Spock whispered, “You’ll cum once you admit it. You are blocked up right now, preventing yourself from receiving relief.”

Jim whined and screwed his eyes shut while his face and body flushed. His hands were busy either with a hold on Spock’s arm or his own cock. Spock was focused on keeping his pace and rhythm standard just to prove a point that Jim would not cum without admission. Teeth bit down hard on a plump bottom lip, and a head shook back and forth again in denial about what he was about to do.

“Tell me,” Spock coaxed in his low, gentle voice.

“Need your seed,” Jim whispered hoarsely, “Need to be full of your dick and seed to—to—get fat with your pups.”

Spock’s pace exploded, and he released a low growl. “Tell me more, I know there is more.”

Jim sobbed out moans, arching and tightening on the hard member that plowed him into the floor. “Want to be pregnant, fat with your pups. Want to just be here for your dick, take care of your needs. I need your seed, no other alpha will fill me and breed me like yours will.”

“I can make sure your cunt is always ready for my cock. You could always be filled with my seed. Bred well and good,” Spock whispered against his cheek.

The omega cried out and squirted in his hand and gushed slick around Spock’s cumming member again. Spock thrust and ground his cock in Jim, teasing his over-sensitive sweet spot with his double-ridged head. Once Jim went limp from his orgasm, Spock slowly pulled out and seemed to observe how Jim shivered and his legs twitched. Though Jim shifted uncomfortably and wished to hide his cunt, he enjoyed Spock’s heated gaze nevertheless. The Vulcan did not disappoint either and dove down to lap at Jim’s well fucked hole, teased the rim with his tongue. Jim closed his eyes and spread his legs more to welcome Spock’s attentions.

Between the flat tongue licks at his hole and sucking on his labia something slick and room temperature pressed against his hole. Then, Jim was filled. It was as girthy as Spock outside of heat, not as long as the Vulcan, but it filled him in all the right ways. Finally, Jim collapsed limply, shivering in pleasure. Hands moved up Jim’s body teasingly, brushing over pierced nipples that left obvious dents in the silk. The shoulders of the garment were tugged down to expose his nipples and trap his arms by his side. Hands teased Jim’s now exposed nipples while a mouth wrapped around the head of his cocklett and began to suck gently.

The Vulcan’s eyes were shut as he began to bob his head up and down, swallowing the whole member with ease, barely reaching the back of his throat. Jim sobbed in excitement and oversensitivity. His hands found purchase in the linens of his nest as he squirmed. Hips rocked and ground up into Spock’s teasing mouth. The plug in his cunt rubbed his sweet spot only for legs to fall open and flat in the nest exposing himself entirely. It gave Spock all the room he needed. Jim had no idea why Spock was hell-bent on pulling any and all orgasms from him, but he was happy to receive the attention. It took no time at all for him to orgasm again, and Spock swallowed the squirt down with ease. He pulled off with a noisy slurp and breathed harshly.

“I am going to finish cooking the meal and then I will return and feed you your portion before it is time for me to depart,” Spock explained.

Jim, loopy and tired, gave a slow nod. His body had become entirely lax, allowing him to drift into a light nap. His day had been difficult, especially after the migraine that had suddenly appeared, and Spock had been just the cure he needed. Satisfied beyond what was necessary, the omega was more than pleased he had an alpha so thorough and dedicated. When he woke again, he was propped up against Spock’s broad and well-muscled chest.

“Alpha?” The omega whispered a bit out of character.

“Omega,” Spock acknowledged and brought food to his lips. “Eat.”

Jim listened and took in the bite, humming at the small cut of grilled cheese sandwich soaked in a tomato vegetable bisque. It seemed Spock had turned his dinner attempt into something far more edible than whatever Jim had cooked up. The feeding continued; Jim sucked on Spock’s fingers every time food was brought to his lips. They had already come close to kissing when the Vulcan had coaxed Jim’s desires out. Now, it felt almost just as intimate as he took food from his alpha’s gentle fingers. However intimate it was, Jim could not deny his alpha. They had done this several times at this point, but it had never felt as intimate as it did in this moment.

Regardless of any protestations, Jim might have had, he was rung out and falling asleep again in Spock’s arms between bites. By the end of his meal, he was dead asleep. Briefly, Jim woke up to being passed into another man’s arms; he might have felt concern had the beta’s scent not immediately filled his nostrils. Mumbling Jim praised his beta for being in his nest and pushed his entire weight on the man.

“I ensured he ate, there are leftovers if you find yourself hungry,” Spock spoke in a quiet tone.

“He’s more out of it than usual,” Leonard muttered gruffly as he attempted to hold a slightly struggling omega.

“More extreme measures had to be taken tonight. I will be at my betrothed’s home for no more than a week. While I am away, please be vigilant. Recently, he has developed cyclical migraines that have affected his behavior,” Spock relayed.

Jim could feel Leonard’s hum through the man’s chest and buried his nose further into the crook of the man’s neck. Betas’ scents were nowhere near as strong as omegas' or alphas', and betas had no true sense of smell either. So, to Leonard, he smelled like any normal man, but to Jim, he smelled safe and comfortable, as most betas did. A similar scent to his mother, who had been the last person to genuinely nurture him the way Leonard did. Though Leonard’s scent was also particularly special, Jim would happily take advantage of the beta being around by adding his scent to his nests.

“I’ll run some tests too, make sure his health hasn’t changed, check if there are environmental factors,” Leonard expressed.

The ache in Jim’s mind was back with ferocity. Spock had been absent from their home for five days, and Leonard had been fighting for his life. The physician had been trying to survive Jim’s withdrawal from his alpha and the wild mood swings that came with it. Though possibly a decent lesson in how Jim might behave when they did go their separate ways on separate starships. Unfortunately, Jim had a migraine twice since Leonard took over duties. Previous migraines had slowly built from headache to aura, which meant he would be home by the time it was at its worst. Except for this one. Jim had barely left the lab when he was hit with a migraine and intense need.

Though Spock was staying with his betrothed, the Vulcan still came to campus to work. Jim had been attempting professionalism by allowing Spock his space and time away from the disaster of an omega Jim was. But the need was too great, Leonard would not be able to help, and there was no one else his mind reached for. Hands were clenched behind his back, and his head dropped as he walked, not the confident, relaxed posture he typically had. Unsure how long it took him to make it to Spock’s office through the haze, but when he did make it, the omega did not bother to knock as he shoved open the door.

“Lieutenant Kirk,” Spock answered with surprise.

Jim leaned on the door handle, thankful for the old-school doors the academy preferred to have. “Lieutenant Spock,” Jim replied breathlessly. Hazel eyes darted to examine the student sat in front of Spock’s desk. “I apologize for interrupting—”

“I know you would not do so if it were not emergent,” Spock replied kindly.

The Vulcan was quick to dismiss the student, and they were quick to leave, allowing Jim to shut the door, still leaning heavily against it. “I am sorry.”

“Another migraine?” Spock asked, unmoving.

“Yes,” Jim hissed, “Normally I make it home before it gets to this point—”

“I can smell your pain, Jim, take what you need,” Spock shifted back in his seat just enough to allow space for Jim to come to him.

The omega needed less prompting than he was given as he stumbled to Spock. Jim dropped to his knees in front of Spock and shifted to be slightly under the desk. He pulled Spock and the chair he sat in towards him. Though Spock appeared as if he wished to say something, Jim distracted the Vulcan with hands that slipped up thighs and worked on the fastenings. As he tried to focus, Spock worked with him to shift his pants low enough so Jim could pull his member out, and once rewarded was lost in aching thought. Appreciative that the Vulcan seemed not to argue about the venue of where or when Jim needed, he spared a thought to wonder if Spock, in any capacity, needed the omega as well. Still, the man was thankful that he was being treated as a person first rather than an omega at their place of work.

It would have been easy for Spock to call him omega instead of his name, but it was clear the Vulcan was serious about following the rules they had set. Keep work separate from home life and indulge in instinctual whims. Though Jim had not had an instinctual whim at work since their second date almost two months prior. Now, however, it was urgent. A hand-worked Spock’s member while the other found purchase on Spock’s hip. He nosed the base of the member as he sucked at the loose skin, discreetly scenting the glands in that area. Jim’s mouth worked its way up the slick member, hand replaced where his mouth had fled to attempt to keep Spock in place. The Vulcan was still, but his prick would twitch at particularly pleasurable dedications done by the omega.

Finally, Jim wrapped his mouth around the double-ridged cock and swallowed as far as he could go before he pulled up again to catch his breath. He had not anticipated his desperation well. A gentle hand ran through Jim’s perfectly styled hair, careful not to mess it up; it was an attempt to calm the omega. Unfortunately, it did nothing to settle Jim’s need, and he worked his mouth down again, reaching further, and continued the pattern until he could swallow Spock’s member down to the base, in his throat. Though breathing was obstructed, Jim slowly relaxed through short, shallow breaths.

Arms rested on top of Spock’s thighs, one folded so Jim could rest his cheek on the back of his hand while the other continued to cling to the material of Spock’s shirt. Hazel eyes fell half-lidded, and his nostrils worked to cycle air and Spock’s scent through the omega’s system. The migraine was still present, but less demanding than before. Jim hoped, if Spock allowed him the time, it would eventually be dissipated just as the others had. Fingers pushed through Jim’s hair this time, an obvious ploy by Spock to reach his surface thoughts.

“Do you wish for me to continue my work, Jim?” Spock asked.

The omega hummed in confirmation.

“Know that you are free to do as you please, but there will come a moment when this must end. Either you will end it, or I will,” Spock spoke sternly. The Vulcan seemed to think for a moment before returning to watch Jim. “By that I mean, I do not expect an orgasm, but we will have to leave my office and campus eventually.”

Despite Jim understanding Spock’s implication, the explicit explanation helped his migraine. The omega released a breath, and the rest of his tension seemed to drain from his body. With eyes shut, and Spock getting back to work, Jim simply sat folded under Spock’s desk at his feet, swallowing around his slowly softening cock. No offense was taken; it was often more comfortable for an act like this to be done without an erection, and Spock, fortunately for both of them, had pretty incredible control over his bodily functions. The arousal Jim had sought initially had been to douse himself in Spock’s scent. Now, comfort and the need to give service to his alpha were what enveloped his mind.

At home, Spock was still not present. They departed after hours of spending time in the Vulcan’s office. After Spock had deemed Jim had relieved his pain enough, he took the omega to his couch, and they took the time to properly scent each other. No orgasmic satisfaction had been reached, but Jim felt stable again. Spock was an excellent duo match, professional in his care for Jim, but still provided compassion and humanization. The emotional distance between them was a respectable amount and never left Jim feeling dizzy with confusion or as though a boundary had been crossed. But at home, with no Spock, he felt off-kilter. The migraine was back, and Leonard was the only body in the house for Jim to focus on.

Earlier in the week, the man had been physically needy with Leonard in a way the omega had never been before with the beta. The man did not seem to mind and even appreciated that Jim had taken the medical advice seriously. But now, Jim was in a bad mood. A mood swing he had not expected to have outside of pre-heat, but the migraine seemed to be the cause. They had been fine sharing a meal not ten minutes before until Leonard had said something about a topic that normally would not rile Jim up. This time, it had him flipping his plate on the table with a growl of anger.

“What did I say?” Leonard gasped.

The beta shoved himself back from the table to avoid food splattering on him, but the scrape of the legs of his chair across the floor had Jim gripping his ears. Jim stood and kicked back his own chair, and that sound had him growling louder. His full body tensed as hazel eyes seemed to pierce Leonard with a hideous look of hatred. The beta stood from his chair and seemed to slowly move around Jim, keeping as large a distance as he could. The omega followed with predatory eyes, exposed teeth, and hands that still clung to his ears.

“Jim, talk to me, I can’t fix what I don’t know,” Leonard urged.

“Beta can’t fix anything,” Jim sneered.

“I fix you up all the time,” Leonard disagreed as he reached for his medical bag.

Jim dropped his hands and searched behind himself on the table to find something to throw, but all that was to be found was his flipped plate. “Beta can’t fix me!” The omega yelled as he tossed the plate.

Leonard dodged it easily, ducking down to collect his tricorder. The physician tossed the strap over his shoulder and began to turn the device on. “Like hell I can’t,” the Beta in question snorted. He stood up again and dodged his plate of food as it was flung across the common room towards his head.

“Get out!” Jim’s voice boomed as he threw the forks and then the unlit candles that belonged to Spock.

While Leonard bobbed and weaved the random items Jim could get his hands on, he reached out with the tricorder in hand to attempt to get a read on the omega while the other flipped open a communicator to call Spock.

“This was my place first!” Leonard replied, “You came into my home, and then you and your alpha took over and kicked me out.”

“Where is he?” Jim yelled back with a book in hand.

“I’m calling him now,” Leonard replied.

Jim flashed his teeth again in sickening glee as he watched Bones’ vivid blue eyes dart to the book in the omega’s hand.

The Beta spoke as calmly as he could, his persistent southern drawl more prominent. “Now, if you throw that, you’ll be real sad when you get out of this mood you’re in.”

“Fuck you!” Jim screeched and tossed the book, gasping in sick pleasure when it landed squarely in Leonard’s chest.

“Spock here, is there an issue? You have persistently called three times,” the Vulcan’s voice rang through.

The omega had another book in hand and had been gearing up to throw it when he heard the Vulcan’s voice come through. The momentary distraction disappeared, and just as quickly, Jim seemed to remember himself. He launched the book, and another sick cackle bubbled from Jim when Leonard got a spine to the cheekbone.

“Your omega has lost his goddamned mind!” Leonard yelled.

“Fuck you, beta!” Jim screamed again chucking two more books in quick succession.

“You must have done something as he was calm and pain-free when we departed my office today,” Spock retorted.

Another voice broke through, “You did not tell me you saw James Kirk today.”

Jim dropped the next set of books in his hand and tried to rush Leonard. “Who is that?” He hissed.

“Jim, you need to take measured breaths to steady yourself. I might even suggest you go to nest in your room where it is dark and quiet,” Spock’s voice interrupted Jim and Leonard’s fight for hold over the communicator.

“No, the beta needs to go,” Jim hissed.

“The beta is there because I told him to watch and take care of you,” Spock replied sternly.

“James Kirk, you were not meant to contact Spock during this—“

“—This is not the time, T’Pring,” Spock’s voice snapped. “Leonard, is Jim in pre-heat?”

“Hard to say when he’s got me pinned on the ground and I can’t read my tricorder results,” Leonard panted through the struggle.

Unfortunately for the Beta, Jim had youth and muscle on the older man, and with the added adrenaline rush, it made him capable of keeping the beta pinned while he tried to wrestle the communicator.

“Why T’Pring?” Jim hissed, though the question had no real answer that he cared to know and had no real solution to offer.

“Leonard?” Spock’s urgent voice rang through, clear he was yelling so the beta could hear over Jim’s noises of struggle and rhetorical questions.

“No!” He answered back loudly, “He’s not in pre-heat, the migraine is the cause. He needs to go in for more testing, but he can’t go in this state!”

“Give Jim a sedative and I will meet you at the medical facility,” Spock said with determination.

Leonard finally got Jim off him and placed the couch between them. “A sedative might resolve the issue temporarily, and then we won’t get a decent scan detailing where the brain activity being affected by the migraine is located,” the beta rushed out.

“I don’t need a scan,” Jim raised his voice snottily, “I need you out! I need my alpha!”

“Then sedate him long enough to get him to the medical facility and, I assume, you can strap him down to the bed to keep him in place for the scan when he wakes,” Spock negotiated.

“If you could just come here now—”

“I cannot,” Spock interrupted briskly. “I have obligations, as you know, that I cannot wholly abandon because you cannot manage Jim’s mood swings.”

Jim put a hand on his hip and pushed fingers through his hair with a wince of pain. “You hear that Beta? Can’t fix me. Like I said.”

“You’re saying he’s like this all the time?” Leonard asked, fear laced the undercurrent of his voice.

“As of late, yes,” Spock sighed, “At least, I can recall it seemed to begin to escalate toward the end of October.”

“Well,” Leonard sighed and ran his tricorder again.

Blue eyes were firmly planted on Jim, who ignored the stare as he began to fold in on himself down to the floor. “Hurts,” Jim complained, “Only he can fix it. No one else.”

“He’s calmed down. If I can get him to go to his room to sleep, I think taking him in can wait until you’re available,” Leonard spoke softly into the communicator.

Spock was quiet on the other side, and Jim whined as Leonard came to him to help him stand up. Jim pushed his nose into the crook of Leonard’s neck to scent him.

“I will alert you of when I can return. Our encounter earlier today should have resolved the issue. I do not understand why his migraine returned,” Spock spoke almost defeatedly.

“We’ll figure it out. Hopefully, it’s environmental, and you can get back on track with your future plans. Your separation really shouldn’t be the cause of so much moodiness,” Leonard assured.

Jim sighed as Leonard pushed him into bed, doing nothing to help the man who removed his shoes or belt. “Can’t get fixed. Can’t listen well. I’m bad. I’m a bad omega.”

The voice in the communicator and Leonard’s sighed in synchronic devastation. “You are not bad,” they chorused.

“He’s down for the count. I think he tired himself out,” Leonard informed as he sat on the edge of Jim’s bed. The omega near sleep.

“I appreciate that you have not abandoned him despite the violence,” Spock breathed.

“I’m not that shitstain Finney. I know he can’t help it, we know he isn’t actually like this. I’m a medical professional, I’d be a bad doctor if I couldn’t handle a patient with a mood problem,” McCoy scoffed.

“Regardless of professionalism. You maintain a personal relationship despite his behavior, which is important and appreciated.”

“Big sappy alpha you got here Jim,” Leonard teased.

The omega merely whimpered tiredly in response.

“I thought he was asleep,” Spock sounded scandalized, well, as scandalized as a Vulcan could.

“He’s dozing, still conscious,” Leonard laughed. “Anyway, I’ll let you know if I move him. McCoy out.”

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Mr. Spock,” Jim greeted when Spock entered the omega’s office.

“I apologize for my abrupt presence,” Spock began, nervous about Jim’s reaction to him and the situation.

“Would you like to sit? I do have a class to teach in ten minutes, just an FYI,” Jim offered.

“F, Y, I?” Spock asked as he sat.

Jim’s eyes flicked up to meet Spock’s and wrinkled in humor, “For your information.”

“I see,” Spock paused in thought. “I canceled my day so that I may shadow you.”

Jim’s jaw tightened, and the masseter muscle twitched from tension. “Because you and Leonard believe the migraines are environmental?”

“Indeed, I do not believe you need to be supervised, nor do I believe this is simply caused by your complex hormonal chemistry,” Spock explained.

His jaw seemed to relax minutely. “So, you trust me and my body, you don’t trust other people?”

“Precisely,” Spock agreed.

More tension seemed to fall from Jim, at least to some extent. He was not fully at ease, but he pretended to be as he leaned back in his chair and peered at Spock from across his desk.

“What do you expect you’ll find? That my lab suddenly has a new chemical I don’t know about? That I’ve developed an allergy to my Caitian student?”

The muscle flinched yet again in his cheek, wiping the levity from his face. Just as Spock suspected, though the Vulcan had assured he trusted Jim, it was likely this imposition still posed evidence of the alternative. Spock offered his wrist on Jim’s desk. It was usually taken as a display of peace and goodwill for the omega because Jim knew the implications of skin-to-skin contact for a Vulcan. Hazel eyes flickered down and then back up to Spock’s face searchingly.

“Those would be best-case scenarios,” the Vulcan replied.

Jim’s lips twitched upward, finding humor in Spock’s response. Though Spock could not determine why, he allowed that curiosity to be examined at a later point under less stressful circumstances. Jim’s eyes fell back to Spock’s wrist and seemed to give in with annoyance as he leaned forward, shoved his uniform sleeve up, and his wrist against Spock’s. Rough, thick fingers gently moved up the exposed skin of Spock’s forearm, and the tips of his fingers settled right under the opening of his sleeve. Spock reciprocated with a similarly gentle caress of his fingertips up Jim’s forearm before he cradled the flexing muscle. They held each other’s forearms softly and as Jim thought absent-mindedly, the pads of his fingers began to stroke Spock’s skin in small circles clockwise.

“How do you expect I explain you following me around?”

“I am shadowing a higher-ranked Lieutenant as I am potentially interested in advancing my career to the position of First Officer. Examining how you intertwine your academic background with your command experience is pertinent to how I might advance my career,” Spock replied confidently.

“I’m not an XO, Spock,” Jim frowned. “Plus, I thought Vulcans didn’t lie?”

“You will be within the next year,” Spock reminded. “And it is not a lie. I am shadowing you, you are a higher-ranked officer, and I am interested in advancing my career to a first officer position, under certain conditions.”

“First of all, that promotion’s a rumor,” Jim huffed, sufficiently satisfied with Spock’s explanations, “and those certain conditions are only if we can pull this whole thing between us off.”

“We can only ‘pull this off’ if you allow me to shadow you and find answers to your new symptoms,” Spock retorted. “Or would you rather a physician follow you around and make official documentation of your change in health status?”

Jim grumbled quietly, and his fingers flexed into the Vulcan’s forearm rhythmically. “Sound logic, Mr. Spock.”

“My logic is always sound,” Spock scoffed, though it was meant in jest.

The man’s face softened even more and gave a more open smile at the far more intentional joke. That earned Spock a bubbling, elated feeling, a swell of emotions he knew he was not meant to feel about Jim. They were colleagues put in an impossible situation with nearly impossible circumstances. Spock reminded himself of this often when he found more than biological satisfaction in the ways Jim trusted his body with the Vulcan. Fortunately, Spock had become well-versed in compartmentalization, especially when it came to Jim. He had to do so to ensure the strength of their professional relationship. Jim had made clear they could not be more and so Spock would not cross that boundary.

“Alright, up we go, I have two classes to teach and a lab to supervise,” Jim smiled.

The smile was less genuine than the one that had been elicited when Spock applied humor and made the man laugh. It was a facade Spock had seen many humans employ to encourage movement and excitement. And under the display, Spock could see Jim sincerely felt the opposite. The man did not want to move, nor did he feel excitement for his day. Spock hoped it was not due to the constant presence he would have throughout the day, but instead because Jim’s migraine still had not seen resolution since the Vulcan’s attempt several days prior. Though Jim’s mood seemed to stabilize once Spock had returned to their shared apartment and he could use their dynamic, Jim remained in consistent pain. Shadowing the omega was a last-ditch effort before Jim would inevitably have to be brought to a medical facility for observation. A trip to Leonard without answers would certainly delay their ability to work on their respective starships. They walked together in silence. Jim kept his head high and his shoulders back, exuding a confidence that he likely did not feel with a migraine while Spock walked in his peripherals.

The first two classes went on without any issues and hardly any sidelong glances about Spock’s presence. He knew how to make himself hug the shadows despite being the only Vulcan and a curiosity to humans. Spock found enjoyment in watching Jim teach. Once the human got into the motion of the activity, the pain seemed to disappear when Jim’s joy shined through. Given that officers were not required to educate if it did not suit them, Spock could also see why Jim chose to do so, and why he was so popular among the student population. The man thrived under the dutiful attention of the cadets, and they clearly found inspiration from his deep interest in the topics he taught. As an aside, it was obvious Jim had a particular charisma about him that facilitated the easy relationship he had with students, but he was a good instructor. Spock found it admirable.

After a quiet shared lunch over a quick game of chess, the pair made their way to Jim’s temporary lab. The man grew twitchy and seemingly more nervous as they drew closer to the small facility. Spock was curious about this shift in behavior, but said nothing as he was meant to be a mere shadow to Jim. The scientific process Spock took to this situation imposed a rule not to interfere until the Vulcan was certain of the cause of the omega’s pain. (Ethical guidelines did permit him to intervene if real harm would come to Jim, but Spock found no argument to interfere yet. Anxieties cropped up in strange moments, but that did not mean Jim was in danger.)

Upon entry, Spock could feel a distinct shift in the gravity of the laboratory. Not in a literal sense, this was likely as poetic as Spock would get. A thick heaviness settled over them as if they were on the surface of Vulcan. Gravity harsher, air thinner. Despite the similarity to his home planet, the atmosphere held no comfort for Spock. This change was physically apparent by the drop in Jim’s shoulders. The human was quick to find a seat for Spock nervously as if Spock might collapse (likely a projection onto him based on how Jim felt) or run away (which Spock was as equally unlikely to do as the first presumption Spock supposed).

It was a small station for the Vulcan to do work at, which Jim had explicitly said as though he were a child visiting their parent at their job. However, Spock knew it was appropriate to announce aloud in the endeavor to avoid suspicion with the two humans in the lab, so Spock could quietly and discreetly observe. Jim, unexpectedly, took a seat next to Spock. The Vulcan assumed Jim would be required to interact with the students in the lab, but he seemed focused on staying close to Spock. It appeared Jim’s anxiety was getting the better of him. So, the Vulcan shifted his attention from Jim to find the source of the heavy gravity.

“Do we have another Lab Supervisor?” A young, masculine voice rang through.

Jim’s breath hitched as if surprised, and he looked up, apparently, he had not noticed two students already in the room. “No. Mr. Spock is simply shadowing me today.”

“Why?” the young man asked.

Jim leaned forward on the counter he stationed himself at and gave the charming smile he saved for all his students. Though the act, often easy for Jim to put on, seemed to pain him if the crinkle of the inner corner of his eyes informed Spock of anything.

“Cadet Mitchell, why don’t you focus on the experiment you and Ensign Cartwright have been working on?” Jim answered instead.

The student’s eyes narrowed slightly and gave a cruel, dangerous smile. Spock did not make a habit of smelling humans, because they all smelled horrible—except for Jim—but he was curious about the student’s designation. A single twitch of his nose told Spock, alpha, and his metaphorical hackles were raised. The Vulcan was keenly aware that others found Jim appealing, including his scent, despite the omega’s inability to reciprocate. Given Jim’s history with alphas, Spock felt a swell of protective instinct invade his every nerve ending at seeing that vicious look. And as the son of Sarek, grandson of T’Pau of Surak’s house, his lineage hosted the most powerful Vulcan telepaths known. His abilities were nothing to scoff at, despite his mixed heritage. It was obvious when he felt the telegraphed thoughts of the other before he spoke with a heavy commanding tone imbued with telegraphic influence.

“Why don’t you come over here, instead?” the young man demanded.

Jim’s face fell flat, and his eyes lost their playful shine. Sluggishly, the man stood. Reluctant to move, hazel eyes lingered on Spock for the briefest of moments before he tore himself away to go to the student. Jim stood between Mitchell and Cartwright with his body turned slightly towards the young man, while the young woman placed a hand on the middle of Jim’s back. Spock knew he was meant to be discreet, but it was obvious what Mitchell was doing. His telepathic projections were loud and unskilled, not to mention the student held Spock’s gaze with smug triumph. As if he had accomplished what Spock had not. The Vulcan wondered if Mitchell knew he had keen hearing as they held firm eye contact while the student’s lips neared Jim’s ear.

“Why is the Vulcan here?” Mitchell whispered his query, though power still held steady in his quiet voice.

“Mr. Spock is shadowing me,” Jim replied simply.

It was obvious to Spock that the omega was trying to fight against the power of Mitchell’s telepathic influence. The repetitive answer was a correct one. The hesitation in Jim’s response likely told Mitchell it was not the entire answer. Jim’s strength, if asked a third time, would likely allow him to continue to provide the same redundant answer.

“Why?” Mitchell insisted.

Then Jim struggled to answer. Spock finally had a hypothesis as to what caused Jim’s migraines. The battle of commands. Commands Jim wanted to follow that lacked telepathic power. Commands that he was forced to follow because of telepathic influence. The Vulcan could easily telepathically project his command influence into every word he spoke to Jim, but Spock chose not to. There was no pleasure in forcing domination. Regardless of Spock being an alpha, Vulcans had strict rules about how they employed telepathy, especially those like Spock who, with great focus, could use their psionic gifts without touch. It was painful to see Jim struggle because he likely felt bound by the lie—not a complete lie—Spock had told Jim to tell others, bound by loyalty to his alpha. While his mind was forced to answer a question with true honesty, forced by another alpha’s dominant influence.

“Jim, we just want to know if the new alpha on your arm is single or taken,” Cartwright spoke softly. It was a fruitless attempt to ease the tension, though betas were known for this action.

The man’s head turned from Mitchell to Cartwright and gave a nervous smile. Jim was strong and reticent to give his alpha way to strangers who appeared to have no goodwill for either of them. Though Mitchell had not verbally commanded truthfulness with his touch on Jim, there was enough connection for him to maintain telepathic control over the truth within the answers Jim gave. Pride and anger swelled within Spock at seeing how dutiful Jim was to the point he was harming himself to maintain the discreteness of his and Spock’s relationships.

“He is taken,” Jim answered.

“By you?” Cartwright asked, “I didn’t expect you would flaunt your new beau in front of an ex.”

Jim shook his head. It was an action clear to any outsider that Jim was physically attempting to shake off Mitchell’s dominating telepathic influence. Though it appeared Mitchell was winning.

“No, he’s taken by others. We’re just colleagues,” Jim answered weakly, his layer of projection with Spock in the room stripped away.

“Well, you smell like him,” Mitchell hissed and pulled away, so he stopped touching his superior officer.

Jim’s posture tightened at the reply, mind clear for at least a brief moment to interject, “As I’ve established before, Cadet Mitchell, you are a student—”

“—And if we were compatible, you and I would have been told by Starfleet by now, blah blah blah,” Mitchell grumbled. It seemed he had given up on his plan, whatever it had been, until his eyes caught Spock’s again and mutated with hatred.

The omega seemed to find better footing while Mitchell took a break from the exhaustion that was battling a strong mind. “Actually,” Jim huffed, “I was going to say I am a superior officer, a faculty member, and your lab supervisor. You should speak to me with a little more respect,” Jim insisted and pulled away from the pair of them. “Ruth, you could stand to at least set an example for him.”

“Do not speak to me like that,” Mitchell hissed, power back in his voice.

Jim flinched, fighting not to cower under Mitchell’s command and vile stare. Sharply, he turned on his heels and walked away slowly while he kept his back to the two individuals he was meant to supervise. Once he reached the counter Spock sat at, one hand supported him while the other pressed three fingers and his thumb into his temple and rubbed counterclockwise. Spock made no move to stand; it would not do well to make Jim appear weaker than he likely felt. Rather, the Vulcan stole Mitchell’s gaze back, a look of warning that the game would end quickly if he was not careful.

The human stumbled back to his seat next to Spock, and it was then that the Vulcan put his hands on the omega to steady him on his stool. The force of Mitchell’s mind seemed to withdraw from the room a bit, the air a bit lighter. But Jim was no better. Spock could only assume the weeks of accumulated commands were getting to him and had starkly affected his health. That was further evidenced by Jim suddenly leaning on him, face pressed into the crook of the Vulcan’s neck. The only public display of their relationship that had ever occurred aside from the touch of their wrists.

Ruth gasped in surprise, despite knowing she had been ogling for far too long. The intake of breath prompted Mitchell to turn and look over his shoulder. Spock had intended to remove Jim from where his nose was pressed into the crook of his neck, buried in his academy faculty uniform, but a baser, possessive instinct allowed Jim to remain. The most open display of “ownership” Spock might ever give anyone in retaliatory response to their actions. Possessiveness was not a feature of Spock’s personality, not until now, at least. There was telepathic domination thickening the air again. Projections that Spock would no longer allow to continue, no matter the cost.

“Get off of him,” Mitchell commanded.

Spock reached his hand up to gently push Jim’s face deeper into the crook of his neck before the command could take hold.

“You will leave this lab, or you will face immediate consequences for your assault upon a superior officer, faculty member, and protected class. Consequences will come inevitably, but know that facing me directly will not end as justly as facing Starfleet’s Board of Integrity.”

Mitchell’s eyes widened at the threat; his nose twitched. Spock deduced Mitchell had finally caught on that Spock was not just involved in a sexual relationship with Jim, but the Vulcan was an alpha. Jim’s alpha. The younger man had made assumptions based on Spock’s apparent species rather than using his instincts to appropriately assess his surroundings. Once Spock’s designation and relationship with Jim were clear, Mitchell was quick to get up and leave, bag in tow. The threat was at least taken seriously. On the other hand, Ruth remained and stared openly at Spock while Jim struggled in Spock’s hold, for an uncomfortably long moment.

“If you have the ability, you should just use it. Probably for the best that omegas are given commands than giving them,” Ruth hummed. “They get all confused when they don’t have a lead to follow.”

“Get out,” Spock growled, “Whatever relationship you had with Lieutenant Kirk ended years ago. I suggest you let it go and move on.”

Ruth huffed and shook her head. “It was just some advice as someone who has dealt with him before and didn’t have the ability to manage him.”

Before Spock could give an angry retort, she too left. The Vulcan released Jim, and the omega leapt to his feet and shoved himself away from Spock with hideous gasping noises.

“Stars,” Jim cursed, “Fuck, my head. What happened?”

Spock stood with Jim. His nose twitched at the change in Jim’s scent and collected a trash bin to catch the bile that suddenly retched out of the omega. The human clutched his stomach and sagged to the floor. The Vulcan asked the computer to reduce the lights as he followed Jim down with the trash bin.

“We should go to medical,” Spock whispered, “I have a hypothesis of what is wrong, but you need to be monitored and scanned.”

“No,” Jim whined and slouched further to wrap his arms around the trash can and press his cheek on the edge. “No, need to work.”

“You cannot properly formulate a sentence, Jim. We need to get you to Doctor McCoy so you can be properly cared for,” Spock urged as he knelt closer to Jim’s side.

“I’ll be fine,” Jim whispered.

The man’s hands trembled, his white-knuckled grasp on the trash bin wavering. There would be no convincing the man to go along with the appropriate course of action. The Vulcan stood and monitored Jim’s state as he quickly packed their belongings into one bag. Spock would take Jim to a medical professional regardless of his protests, regardless of how it might affect their ability to go back to space. Delays were acceptable if it meant Jim was healthy; delays because of a preventable and curable illness that went untreated were unacceptable. He knelt again to pull Jim to his feet but saw Jim was frozen, eyes unmoving, unseeing. Despite Spock’s better judgment, he ran his knuckles across the man’s cheek and tore his hand away just as quickly. With a soft growl filled with anger and distress, he pried the trashcan from Jim and hoisted the man into his arms.

“Jim, I need you to answer me,” Spock began as swift feet took them out of the lab, trying to find some recognition in Jim’s glassy eyes. “What day of the week is it? An easier question, what is my name?”

Jim did not respond, and Spock’s barely contained panic grew. Only humans were around to see his rushed movement. A strange sight to see a Vulcan with a backpack and a man in his arms. Luckily, he was unlikely to be stopped, given that Jim did not look or smell within any acceptable parameters, and he was headed in the direction of the on-campus medical facility. It would, however, take time for Spock to walk there, as running would only attract unwanted and unhelpful attention. The Vulcan was also hopeful he would be able to warn Leonard of their arrival, somehow.

“Spock,” Jim’s voice breathed out.

“What day of the week is it?” The Vulcan asked.

“Monday,” the omega answered weakly.

Now was the moment to take advantage of a lucid Jim, to warn Leonard. “Pull your communicator out of your pocket.”

Spock paused in his movement to wait for Jim to try to do so, but as he shifted in the Vulcan’s arms, he tensed and froze again. All Spock wished to do was curse loudly, an entirely emotional reaction to a serious situation that required a level head. How was he meant to have a level head when he could smell Jim unraveling in his arms? Emotions got the better of him as he contemplated luck. How, only Jim could not have matched anyone but Spock? How only Jim could not stand the scent of any other alpha in the known and tested universe, but Spock? How Jim, a brilliant, intelligent, and appealing omega, would attract the worst individuals because Spock was not adequate in his claim over Jim? Spock was lucky to have Jim; however, as luck would have it, Jim was notably unlucky to have Spock.

The Vulcan had felt time stop during his contemplations of luck and inadequacy, only for it to restart when Jim’s tension remained relentless. Spock ran. Regardless of any attention he might draw, Jim needed medical care. Whatever Leonard had missed from his tricorder scans needed an immediate resolution. So, the Vulcan continued his quick pace, no longer worrying about the odd looks from passersby. Cadets, officers, and visitors alike seemed to pay well enough attention to get out of the Vulcan’s way. It was luck that there were few emergencies in the on-campus medical center, so when Spock rushed in, the medical team met him halfway.

(Upon looking back, Spock might deduce that Security had likely been watching the footage of a Vulcan running with another faculty member in their arms and alerted the medical facility that they would be receiving an emergency.)

“His physician is Doctor Leonard McCoy,” Spock relayed as they ushered him into a patient care room where Jim could lie down. “I believe he is coming in and out of focal seizures caused by the misuse of telepathic psionic abilities.”

The practitioners gave Spock a once over and it was as though he could read their thoughts that were so obvious given their facial expressions. Anyone in the Federation knew Vulcans were strict with their telepathic abilities, and that they were touch telepaths. Both factors would eventually lead them to the conclusion that he was unlikely to be the culprit of the assault. But if Spock knew of the culprit, he was not being open, he had not called it in when the assault had occurred, which was suspicious in and of itself. Spock would save the self-flagellation for later; Jim needed his strict composure and focus now. Before they could ask anything of Spock, the door of the room opened, and in walked Leonard with Christine Chapel and another blonde woman. The Doctor shooed the welcoming party out, and Spock found himself relieved from their inquisitive, judgmental gaze.

“What happened?” Leonard asked as he ran his tricorder over Jim.

Nurse Christine Chapel was a surprise. Spock wanted to question her presence, but she was so focused on hooking Jim up to the biobed that he did not want to interfere. The other was a medical doctor like Leonard, but clearly a student, as she seemed focused on Jim with wide eyes. Excited eyes. She, like Spock, knew exactly what happened to Jim. Unlike Spock, she was an omega and telepathically projecting onto him, seemingly without intending to do so. The woman’s mind searched for a commanding presence, and Spock, shielded from her attempts, was merely thankful she did not plan to worsen Jim’s condition.

“A student was able to telepathically project onto Mr. Kirk’s psyche and attempt to command him. I hypothesize Cadet Mitchell has been doing this since the end of October, and Mr. Kirk’s inability to follow through on such commands, given my conflicting presence, has accumulated into chronic migraines and now focal seizures,” Spock finally answered.

“He used Alpha Voice?” Christine asked with horrified wonderment. “I thought that was a myth.”

“It is not a myth,” Leonard replied with a disappointed sigh.

The disappointment was not placed on Christine. It was placed in the tests humanity failed even in the most progressive of times.

“The organ within the brain that controls and responds to Alpha Voice has been generally reduced after two hundred years of disuse which is why any humans that are not psi-null are alphas or omegas,” the medical student responded.

“Who are you?” Spock asked with a mix of apprehension and scientific curiosity.

“Doctor Elizabeth Dehner,” she answered as she began to place electrodes around Jim’s head. “For my dissertation, I have been studying ESPers and their secondary sex. So far, I have found that all reported human ESPers are either alpha or omega. From there, I have been examining the archaic research on Alpha Voice to modern data I am compiling from patients and any humans in Starfleet that are reported ESPers.”

“How convenient you are here,” Spock replied, suspicion evident in his voice.

Christine rounded on Spock the moment she was finished ensuring Jim was secured and monitored to gently pull him out of Dehner’s way. Any other human would not have been bold enough to tug a Vulcan away from their mate (Jim was not Spock’s actual mate, he needed to remind himself). Any other human would not have been bold enough to pull an alpha away from an omega in distress. Christine was, simply put, a bold woman. She was also someone with whom Spock had a personal relationship, and that was likely the only reason he did not react as foully as he might have with a stranger. The woman squeezed Spock’s biceps to draw his attention to her, rather than where his gaze pierced Dehner’s back. Christine’s delicate hands gently cupped his face to examine him closely as though he had been wounded as well. 

“Spock, I have a question that I need you to answer truthfully. I ask this without judgment because I know you would have your reasons,” Christine said with brows furrowed in concern. The Vulcan allowed his eyes to really see the woman in front of him, his attention still divided between her and Jim, though to a lesser degree than moments before. “Did you ever telepathically project commands to Jim?”

“No,” Spock immediately protested with disgust. “No,” he insisted, “I would never use my psionic capabilities to control anyone.”

“It—it just…” Christine sighed and glanced at Jim, then drew her eyes back upon Spock.

“What is the problem?” Spock asked anxiously, unable to read her through his acute distress.

“Historically, if two opposing alphas give opposing commands, these symptoms are congruent with the sort of state your omega is currently in,” Doctor Dehner answered.

“No,” Spock reinforced, “While I have given commands, I have never done so with any telepathic influence. He attempted to resist his assaulter’s projections several times. That is what has brought Jim to this state. I have never telegraphed my thoughts or commands.” The Vulcan gently gripped the hands on his cheeks. She relaxed with satisfaction, believing his sincerity. Spock, in the comfort and assurance he shared with Christine, asked, “Why are you here, Christine?”

“Did Jim not tell you she was on his case as well?” Leonard asked where he sat monitoring Jim’s vitals.

“No, he did not explicitly mention Nurse Chapel had been put on as a consulting physician. He mentioned a medical practitioner from the Enterprise, but I did not seek clarification,” Spock spoke lowly.

“Where?” Jim’s voice broke through, “Spock?”

The Vulcan turned, his hands, along with Christine’s, fell from his face, but they did not fully part. “I am here,” Spock answered, but did not close the distance as Dehner and Leonard were occupying the space he wished to be in. “You are in a medical facility.”

“What—“ Jim gagged. He attempted to sit up and jerk away from Dehner, “What the fuck is that smell?”

“There is no smell—”

“It’s Doctor Dehner,” Christine interrupted Leonard’s answer. She removed herself from Spock to gently pull the woman back from Jim. After a small distance, the omega seemed to settle down again, though wearily suspicious of the two blonde women. “He’s sensitive to her pheromones in this state, maybe even to the fact that she’s also an ESPer.”

Spock took the chance to replace Dehner’s place at Jim’s side, though there were no protests. Jim jerked in his restraints, this time in an attempt to be able to touch Spock.

The Vulcan sighed and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Jim, you must remain still, you are unwell.”

“Then fix me and get me the fuck out of here,” Jim growled and turned his fury onto Leonard. “Why am I strapped in Bones, you know—”

“You’ve been having focal seizures, kid; I don’t know if you’re going to develop worsening symptoms or new reactions. So, I can’t have you falling out and making yourself worse,” Leonard attempted to explain.

“How can a resolution come about?” Spock asked.

Some instinct in the Vulcan’s body seemed to react preemptively as if subconsciously he knew the solution was a terrible one. Christine was by his side again and gripped his shoulder to anchor him down.

“Surgery to remove the vestigial organ,” Dehner answered.

“It would be experimental, but not as dangerous as it might have been even ten years ago,” Leonard clarified before Jim or Spock could ask the question.

“No way,” Jim hissed, “I don’t care how safe—”

He fell quiet and Leonard ran his tricorder over him again.

“The more frequently these seizures occur, the more permanent damage they’re going to cause,” Leonard sighed. “He needs surgery now, so you need to convince him, Spock.”

Spock pressed his lips flat together and glanced at Christine, who appeared sincere in her agreement with the two physicians in the room. “He is stubborn, and I am not sure a command from me will promote healing.”

“There is another alternative,” Dehner interjected with an air of mystery. “Vulcans are touch telepaths, and if my hypothesis is correct, the Alpha Voice is merely the telegraph of thoughts and influence. Mr. Spock, it might be possible for you to remove the commands at war in his mind through a mind meld.”

Christine pulled away then, not entirely, but much more distance than she had ever given him since the beginning of their friendship and the deepening of their relationship. Were it shock at a physician so innocently proclaiming an intimate activity or another fear, Spock could not focus on the why of her actions. A life and a brain were at stake.

“Will a mind meld not worsen his seizures?” Spock asked.

“No,” Dehner met his gaze, “A skilled telepath such as yourself may be the best chance he’s got.”

Chapter Text

“Alpha?” a soft voice breathed weakly.

Spock broke from the feeble, lingering touch of Christine’s comfort to sit on the biobed, running his fingers across Jim’s psi-points in preparation. “I am here, omega.”

“My head hurts,” Jim replied.

“I’ll get the lights,” Christine said quietly.

She dimmed the lights manually, which allowed her to stand at the door rather than by Spock’s side, the noticeable distance purposefully placed between her and Spock. Spock attempted to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt at giving his attention to Jim, but if she was aware of who Jim was, then she knew who Spock was to Jim. Humans might find it difficult to separate the professionalism Spock displayed for James Kirk from genuine romantic affection. Of course, Spock desired Jim and had affection for the man. His biology dictated his desire, and Jim simply had qualities that Spock found admirable. The guilt he felt as an emotion most illogical, Spock reminded himself. The Vulcan was responsible for the omega’s health in any capacity he could assist as his alpha, and given the omega’s feeble health, it was logical to focus his attention on Jim. Christine and he could converse about the situation in more depth at a later time.

“Jim, are you familiar with Vulcan mind melds?” Spock asked.

“Yes. I know of them,” Jim answered slowly.

“If you do not want to have surgery, the only other solution is a mind meld where I attempt to remove the conflict that has promoted your decline in health,” Spock explained as slowly as Jim had spoken. He held the younger man’s gaze, trying to find clarity and understanding of what he had said.

“Okay,” the omega whispered, meeting Spock’s eyes, “if it doesn’t work, surgery is okay.”

Spock and Leonard released a similar sigh of relief.

“Dr. Dehner, can you please vacate the room? The process will be smoother if he is not agitated by your scent and I am not distracted by your unfamiliarity,” Spock asked without looking away from Jim.

There was quiet in the air. A door slid open and closed. Leonard and Christine took seats on the opposite side of the biobed where Spock sat. The Vulcan took a moment to examine the pair; it made sense that both were present. Leonard was Jim’s friend and current physician, and Christine would become Jim’s primary physician when on the Enterprise and during his heats. Her knowledge of distressed omegas was what brought such success to his and Jim’s relationship. It was pragmatic that she remained to observe her patient, their personal relationship aside.

A gentle caress across Jim’s face again sparked the tips of Spock’s fingers. Ever so softly, Spock pressed the tips of his fingers to the appropriate meld points, and the Vulcan took a steadying breath.

“My mind to your mind,” Spock whispered, “Your thoughts to my thoughts.”

The immediate sense of welcoming he felt once he sank into Jim’s mind only confirmed as Spock had suspected many times over; not only were they biologically compatible, but they were also mentally compatible. Even shallowly, Jim’s mind sang to him. Even with pain and discord, a strong temptation almost overtook Spock to just delve into the darkest depths of Jim’s entire consciousness and wholly give himself over to the man. Focus came over him when another focal seizure seized Jim’s mind. Spock grew nauseated from the experience but powered through.

Spock pulled back from Jim’s mind to shallowly examine without giving in to the temptation of drowning in the pleasure of a compatible mind. The seizure ended, but the lingering trace was still present within the essence of Jim’s mind. The Vulcan slowly followed the path to where the focal seizure was localized and found the telegraphed commands that held Jim hostage. It appeared Spock’s hypothesis had been correct. Mitchell had been building up the conflict within Jim for weeks. The strength of his hold battled with other commands that lingered, as well as Jim’s consciousness.

Dismantling the commands would be difficult. Not because they were well constructed, but rather because they were not. Mitchell was unskilled, sloppy. It was clear he had been practicing on Jim in order to advance his ESPer skills, his Alpha Voice. Spock wondered if Mitchell had tested this skill on others, and if he had been successful, or if Jim had been a unique challenge because it was clear within the mess Jim held onto Spock’s commands. Spock’s words had been so closely held by Jim’s mind, it was as if they had been telepathically projected, as though Spock had used an Alpha Voice. Of course, he had not; his memory and confidence firm in their knowledge that his control had not failed him. Pride did swell within him, knowing Jim saw him as such a strong anchor to hold Spock’s commands with such conviction.  

However, disentangling the web of Mitchell’s commands meant undoing his own. Though Spock was confident Jim would easily fall back in line in their home, there was still a small chance that it also might undo all the progress they had made as a duo. The Vulcan steeled himself. There was no logic as to why Jim had such a strong attachment to his commands. And there was no logic in maintaining their existence if they did not serve his health and well-being. Meticulously, Spock unraveled the squirming tangles of the ever-twisting orders and rules. He disentangled the ribboned commands from each other until all that Mitchell and Spock had left battling in Jim’s mind had been removed entirely.

Though Jim was healed, clearly indicated by the swell of brightness from his consciousness and emotional relief, another knot remained.

Spock had only meant to free Jim from the mess he and Mitchell had left, but this knot held weight. The brightness of consciousness did not reach this aspect of Jim’s mind, and it seemed likely detrimental as well. One single tug at the old knot unraveled it without further effort and seemed to release Jim from a walled prison not entirely of his own making. The Vulcan basked in the feeling of the freedom he had released within Jim’s mind, allowing it to wash over his consciousness, unaware of how his admiration and desire for Jim bled through. Spock was slow to pull away, the desire to cling to a mind so perfectly compatible making his retreat lethargic. Once out of Jim’s mind, his fingers relaxed and gently stroked Jim’s face to show he was no longer in the meld. To see if he could be given a clue into Jim’s well-being, he pulled away and put his hand on Jim’s shoulder to keep him steady.

“Jim,” Spock breathed, “how do you feel?”

Jim, still seemingly exhausted, sluggishly drew his eyes upon Spock and gave a soft nod of his head. “Better than I have been in years.”

That was suspicious. Jim was suspicious.

“That’s good,” Christine praised, “That means it worked.”

“If he feels better than he has in years,” Leonard snorted, “maybe the Vulcan did something else in there that he wasn’t supposed to.”

“Maybe he did,” Jim muttered and pulled himself from the restraints the moment Leonard freed him from them. “Can I go now?”

Spock said nothing and stood to give Jim space as the man sat up. Leonard eased his progress while Christine examined his vitals.

“You have to go home under observation,” Leonard said stiffly, likely aware of the change in the air. “If you’re still stable come morning, you can go back to your regular duties in three days.”

Jim’s eyes focused on Spock rather than what Leonard said. It appeared as though he wished to decipher some aspect of Spock or perhaps of the results of the mind meld. They held each other’s gaze, and the Vulcan knew that Jim was aware of what had happened. Transference had occurred. Though they were both far more stable than they had been moments ago, the comfort of their professional distance seemed to be discordant. Spock took a step forward and held out his hand to assist Jim to stand, but the man decided to use Leonard’s shoulder instead—much to the physician’s protest—and awkwardly navigate moving around Christine. The Vulcan swallowed. A boundary set had been broken simply by the accidental impressions of his thoughts left within Jim’s mind.

“Mr. Spock,” Jim addressed him formally. The professional wall was up, but no friendly undertone. “I suppose you will be monitoring me.”

“Yes,” he answered, “I will ensure your well-being remains stable.”

“Real quick,” Christine interjected, stepping forward before Spock could leave the room. “Can Spock and I have a private conversation before you two head out?”

Jim looked between the pair and gave a tilted nod, a familiar action that Spock himself did. At least the human could not distance himself from the Vulcan’s influence or social memory. Leonard clapped his hands on his thighs as he stood and followed Jim out—really, he pushed Jim out. Despite Jim having agreed to Spock and Christine having a private moment, he had made no move to actually allow it to be private. A curious action for a man who appeared—and smelled—furious with Spock. Once the door to the room closed, Spock turned his attention to the woman in front of him, his demeanor relaxing only minutely. She was safe; she required no strength from him, at least not at this moment.

“You didn’t tell me you found a match,” She hummed.

Spock ducked his head slightly at the mild chastisement. “Mr. Kirk has wished this to remain as professional and as private as possible, so I have only been relaying what is important when necessary. T’Pring knows very little, and what she knows is because she has been in close proximity very recently.”

“So, if I had reached out and told you I was in town—”

“You would have been informed,” Spock answered.

Christine’s hands gently smoothed out Spock’s uniform shirt as an excuse to press closer to him, to feel him. “So, is it going well?”

“Is that truly what you wish to know?” Spock asked instead.

A small smile flickered before she was able to school her features again. “I'm his physician, I’m the one who gave him the advice needed to stabilize him. His hormones are stable, by the way. Better numbers than before you two were matched, even with focal seizures.”

“Then you have your answer,” Spock replied while attempting to suppress the smugness of having done well by his omega.

“So, your omega is fine with you having a fiancée and…whatever we are?” Christine asked.

“Mr. Kirk has maintained that our relationship is purely professional. We are not engaged in a romantic relationship of any kind. My physiological needs as a Vulcan must be maintained, thus my relationship with T’Pring remains.” Spock inhaled and dropped a hand that had been clasped behind his back to wind it around Christine’s waist, holding her close. “He is also acutely aware that I have someone on the Enterprise whom I am fond of.”

“Acutely aware?” She asked with humor and a narrowing of her eyes.

“He has elected to call you my girlfriend,” Spock replied with exasperation, “but unless you explained your relationship to me, or he has deduced from our private conversation currently, he is unaware of who exactly you are.”

“I did not, but maybe you should,” Christine hummed and delicately caressed his cheeks again. “I am going to be monitoring you two during his heats and your ruts.”

Spock furrowed his brows, aware of how expressive he was allowing himself to be, but found himself unable to suppress his confusion. “Monitoring?”

“Spock,” She laughed, “why do you think Doctor McCoy sought out someone on the Enterprise?”

“I am uncomfortable with you monitoring our activities,” Spock protested and pulled away.

Christine scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It’s my job, Spock. If you can separate your sex required for health and practicality with Mr. Kirk from emotion, why do you doubt I can do the same?”

“I suppose—”

“I have been doing it with you and T’Pring,” Christine interjected.

Spock pursed his lips, “My relationship with T’Pring is far more complicated—”

“Is it though?” Christine doubted as she reached for him again to caress his jaw. “I know you have feelings for her that run a little more closely to what you have for me. But you have insisted that your marriage is one of convenience and biological necessity rather than emotional satisfaction.”

“You are correct,” Spock replied.

“Do you not find Mr. Kirk emotionally satisfies you?” Christine asked curiously. “Or are you two truly just having sex? I mean, kinky sex can be devoid of emotion, but that really doesn’t seem like you.”

Spock quietly scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Our sex is not kinky.”

“You said you gave him commands to follow.”

“Indeed.”

“And he follows them?”

Spock merely nodded, unsure of her thought process.

“You have specifically designed boundaries that clearly only slip under serious duress. You know most duos don’t refer to each other as alpha or omega, even under duress these days,” Christine pointed out.

Spock knew this; he had never heard Chris or Una speak that way to one another, but he had assumed that was a part of their professional boundaries. Though there had been plenty of distressing moments under his tenure with them, and they had never slipped into that pattern of language before.

“So that means you two took my advice to heart, which really would mean a lot if you had known it came from me. But instead, you just took Mr. Kirk at his word that I had said to channel more primal, more traditional duo relationships,” Christine finished smugly. “I don’t know if I would call that a professional relationship.”

The Vulcan released a quiet sigh, his shoulders falling as his breath left him. Spock wished to steady himself against this blunt woman he felt deeply for and wished not to hurt. “That was not meant to be seen outside of our shared home. He speaks that way when vulnerable and reduced to baser instincts. Now that I have unraveled the discord in his mind, it may change. Our relationship has already shifted since the meld occurred. I dare you not to judge either of us for the advice you gave him, that you have proven to be successful in its intention.”

Christine sighed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as judgmental. I’m just—”

Spock caressed her cheek, “Smug. As am I.”

The woman laughed with her head tossed to the side, a flush spreading across her high cheekbones and full cheeks. “Well, I find it interesting that we’re smug about the same result.”

“We are both scientific in mind, would we not both find pride in work that is well done?” Spock asked, his lip twitching upward.

Christine shifted close to Spock again and gently kissed his lips, lips that were neglected by his two other bed partners. Spock leaned into her touch and kissed back slowly, gently, not wishing to become too distracted lest Jim’s impatience rule out over his will to allow Spock privacy. Christine pulled away first, and Spock lingered in her space, searching her blue eyes. Fingers brushed his cheekbone and then his ear before they wandered to fix his hair.

“Maybe we should stop flirting about how smart I am and how good you are in bed,” Christine laughed. “Go take care of Mr. Kirk, he’s likely to collapse from exhaustion. He did have several seizures; it’s a miracle he’s even standing. I’ll suggest Leonard give him the rest of the week off.”

Spock gave a nod, “Mr. Kirk will be frustrated with the time off, but will accept it because it is good for his health.”

Three days of medical leave was the worst thing imaginable (it actually wasn’t, not even for Jim). Though it would not tarnish his record, Jim certainly felt as though it would. It was also different from heat leave, which had been a part of human working culture since activist fights in the few decades before Earth reached warp capability. Medical leave would go on Jim’s record, unlike heat leave, and that was what frightened Jim the most. Anything that went on record against his perfect health (that he had never had, but always hid very well). But, that was not the only part of forced medical leave that Jim hated, it was finding something to do with all of his forced free time.

Luckily, Spock took his boredom in stride. The Vulcan still had his duties, and Jim never expected Spock to stray from them, nor did he wish them to, but when he came home, Jim demanded attention in strange ways. A preset-up chess set. A stack of holovids he had spent the day collecting to make Spock watch with him. An argument about absolutely nothing. Jim felt erratic, uncomfortable, and displaced. Whatever Spock had done to fix Mitchell's crimes, whatever he had done to fix Jim, had obliterated any defenses he had against the Vulcan’s caring nature. Their routine was in shambles, and Jim seemed to laugh at any command given now; no urge to follow them remained.

A week had gone by since his medical leave. Some of Jim’s boredom was satiated by work, but their dynamic was seemingly irreparable. They shared meals. Jim wore the jewelry he had been gifted by Spock because the Vulcan was his duo match. But the wanton need and desire lacked the power it had over him before. He was human, of course, he felt desire, but it was controlled, lacking any malice or harm to his person. Whatever else Spock had done had seemingly healed him of a very old scar he had carried in his subconscious. Spock appeared confused by this shift, but not bothered. They had known their more extreme dynamic would come to an end at some point. Though Jim was sure they both assumed that came when they inevitably had a mate bond.

Another week, and Jim found himself being reminded why he felt comfortable with Spock in the first place. The Vulcan was highly intelligent, and a good chessmate, but his witticism was surprising and exciting, cooking was exceptional, and companionship was like something he had never shared even with Leonard. That brought him to contemplations of the mind meld. After the initial relief, he could feel Spock’s mind, examine what had entered his own with quiet consideration. The release was where the impressions had been left behind. The moment Jim’s mind was finally his own, any influence past or present released, the human had power and strength. Spock had been so happily engulfed in Jim’s mind and the human was pleased to have him in there that he’d been influential in how slow Spock was to release him from the meld. But impressions had been left behind.

 For the first time, that desire bubbled. The need overtook Jim. A night they had dinner separately, a night Spock had come home late for whatever reason he had not thought to relay to Jim, the omega pulled Spock into his room. Into his nest that he felt comfortable maintaining regularly now, to have Spock for a night. The Vulcan seemed somewhat relieved as if he had been holding back from the desire to have Jim. Which, in some ways, made sense; they had built a seriously rigorous routine with rules and procedures, only for Jim to suddenly abandon them and push Spock’s hard work aside.

Jim rocked his hips up and down the length of Spock’s cock, riding him with slow and careful precision. His cheek was pressed against the Vulcan’s arms, tight around Spock’s broad and thickly muscled shoulders, while his legs and abdominals flexed from where he was straddled. Spock had given Jim so much when he had been entirely not himself, a shell of a person entrapped by long-past tragedies that left deep impressions, and recent traumas that had almost permanently reshaped him into an omega unknown to his family or friends. Jim felt he should give back. Put in the effort that the Vulcan had given. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t ridden Spock before, but usually, Spock’s hands were driving his hips up and down. Now, the Vulcan’s hands wandered, allowing himself the time to feel every twitch of fibrous muscle and watch as his cock disappeared into Jim’s slick hole.

Fingers dug into Spock’s back, unafraid of hurting the Vulcan or leaving marks. If there was a problem, Spock would tell Jim to fix it. So, he continued to rock his hips, clinging to the Vulcan for dear life while he panted softly in his pointed, green-flushed ear. Spock felt tense as if allowing Jim control was painful. Or maybe, the Vulcan was holding himself back. Their dynamic had been pleasurable for both of them. Jim knew it wasn’t a one-sided affair when it came to the games they played. Or worse, the impressions left in Jim’s mind affected Spock’s ability to be procedural about their sex now.

“What’s wrong?” Jim panted in Spock’s ear, unwilling to break his rhythm. It would not bring him to orgasm, but he could feel his body telling him he needed to feel the slide of the slick double-ridged cock in his channel. As if the strength Jim might have found again would unravel if he were not allowed this.

Spock breathed out heavily, and some tension left his body. He pulled away from Jim’s grasp slightly, a hand moved up his chest to wrap around part of his torso while his thumb teased the pierced nipple. The other moved down to slowly stroke Jim’s cocklett. Brown eyes were fixated on the cocklett, how it dripped clear fluid and twitched in his large hand.

“Nothing is wrong,” Spock finally answered.

Jim dropped his head back and exposed his neck, rolling his hips in a far more enticing manner. The drag in his channel was slower and his moan more obscene as he kept his pussy tight for every drag out and push in. His chest heaved and Spock’s head ducked down to suck on his other unattended nipple. Sharp teeth teased, and Jim hissed, dropping his head forward slightly, unable to move his hips without fear of Spock’s teeth leaving lasting damage. The pause made his channel spasm, a whimper of desperate pleasure bubbled past his lips.

“Spock,” Jim breathed in adoration. “Do you not like it when I take charge?”

The Vulcan ran his rough tongue over Jim’s nipple as a type of apology, but it had Jim dropping his head back again, releasing another whimper of pleasurable pain. Hips moved again. Spock’s hands moved from their ministrations to simply hold Jim’s hips and admire the body that rocked on him. Jim figured the Vulcan did not care who called the shots during sex, as long as they were having sex. Obviously, Jim had been holding out on Spock a little, and they both needed the physical connection with each other, no matter how professional or friendly they focused on being.

“I enjoy when you take what you want and need,” Spock finally answered.

Jim met Spock’s eyes and gasped. His eyes widened when the Vulcan pushed Jim down and held him in place. His cunt spasmed again and he struggled at the intensity of the depth Spock’s cock pierced him. The omega shook and his fingers dug into the meat of Spock’s trapezius muscles, arching as he minutely rocked his hips. Jim rubbed the lips of his cunt against the base of Spock’s pubis to steal pleasure, shivering and panting with an open-mouthed smile of mischievous glee.

“So, nothing is wrong,” Jim echoed breathlessly. Spock released his hold, and Jim went right back to his pace. “But, you’re thinking hard about something.”

“As are you,” Spock countered.

A hand made its way back to Jim’s cocklett, stroking in time with Jim’s thrusts. The other slipped to hold Jim’s neck, thumb pressed into his Adam’s apple. Whenever Spock did that, it always made him swallow more. The pressure dizzied him and made him more desperate as if he were not breathing properly, though he was. Spock had never been interested in breath play in the traditional sense, just creating an illusion, a display of the Vulcan strength that was never used outside of heat. Hazel eyes stared at the plain ceiling while his body continued to move, hips undulating.

“I know I’m thinking more than usual,” Jim whispered breathlessly, “But so are you.”

“I cannot hear your thoughts as easily, it is puzzling,” Spock admitted suddenly.

Jim hummed, enjoying how his voice vibrated under the gentle grip of Spock’s hand. He dropped his head back down, and the Vulcan’s hand moved to simply cup the back of his head, play with the short hairs Jim had cut recently.

“I have been working on shielding myself, found some Vulcan meditation texts,” Jim whispered shyly.

He pressed his chest closer to Spock’s and his cheek to the other’s, once again bringing them back to the close intimacy they had before Jim began asking questions.

“Are you—,” Spock cut himself off.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jim whispered, lips moved against the Vulcan’s skin.

“Then—”

“Others,” Jim replied, then he swallowed and moved to change the subject, “I heard your impressions when we were connected.”

“So it is—”

“It’s not you,” Jim interrupted.

“You cannot look me in the eye.”

“If,” Jim paused, took in a deep breath, and shook his head, “I can look you in the eye plenty.”

The omega pulled away again and picked up his pace. Hazel eyes watched Spock closely as he worked them over with more effort and practice. It would be better if they just orgasmed now and got sex over with. As much as Jim was enjoying it, fulfilling a primal desire as he was meant to, Spock was notably distracted. But blaming Spock was easy, and Jim felt guilty for doing so. Staring Spock in the eye made the activity far more intimate than he had intended it to be. Jim wanted to have sex with Spock, have it be meaningless. But he could smell Spock, feel Spock, and remember how good it felt to have the Vulcan in his head. Walls had crumbled, and Jim had no idea how to construct them again. Jim could blame Spock, but it was disingenuous. Because he really, truly, wanted to have Spock.

There it was, the primal urgency from before Spock had freed him of shackles that had been holding him back from a comfortable and deep interpersonal connection. Jim gasped as he kept his channel tight, but frantically rode the Vulcan’s cock. Spock seemed to be aware of the shift and moved his hands to hold Jim’s ass and help him maintain his activity. Jim cursed and gasped and whined unintelligibly. Vulcan eyes darkened and the slight lit of Spock’s lips told Jim that he liked seeing Jim desperate for his cock for—for—

“I need,” Jim panted as he shook and trembled.

“Tell me, speak your desire aloud.”

Jim shook his head, embarrassment crept up from the pit of his stomach and up swelled as a lump in his throat.

“Jim, tell me what you need,” Spock commanded.

A shiver ran up his spine to the base of his skull, where it tingled. “I need your seed.”

Spock chuckled darkly, quiet, and contained. The Vulcan still allowed Jim his illusion of control over their copulation as he continued. “Why do you need my seed, Jim?”

“To fill—to fill me up. Need to feel full,” Jim whispered, his entire body heated and overwhelmed.

“Elaborate, Jim,” Spock commanded again.

That shiver zinged straight up his spine again, and another pleasurable wave to his cocklett. Jim’s cunt tightened around the thick member and ignored how it made the act of fucking himself more frustrating as if his body refused to release Spock’s dick while also making entrance more difficult.

“Need your thick cock,” Jim started and dropped his head into the crook of Spock’s neck. Fingers dug into the meat of Spock’s shoulder joint. “Need it to fill me with cum, make me fat with your pups. Stars, I can’t live without your seed inside of me.”

“Good omega,” Spock praised.

Jim squirted across their stomachs in shock as he cried out, “Alpha!”, though his cunt barely registered the small orgasm when the Vulcan took hold of his hips and moved him on his cock as though he were merely a toy. The omega was a desperate puddle of lanky limbs and a rhythmic moaning voice, thankful to be used by his alpha. Though Jim hadn’t needed this for the past couple of weeks, he needed it now. That much was clear. While Jim’s walls had crumbled and his strength regained anew, it was now obvious to him that he needed Spock, his alpha. It was far less embarrassing than the first time he had come to that conclusion months prior.

Spock shifted his arms underneath Jim’s legs, allowing him to bend Jim in half, really displaying his physical power to manipulate a fully grown man as he pleased with his body. The display of strength had Jim orgasming, another spurt from his cocklett and his cunt clamping down, refusing to make Spock’s use of his slick channel easy. Jim openly sobbed as Spock’s cock continued to split his tight cunt open until his knot popped and the omega was forcibly pushed down to be locked in place. A soft keening sound fell past Jim’s lips as he was filled with seed and cock and knot. The omega collapsed on Spock’s chest; nose buried in the crook of his neck while his arms were tossed over the Vulcan’s shoulders. Calloused human fingers found their way into Spock’s hair, mussing it up with a quiet fondness.

Thick arms wrapped around Jim’s body and held him close, not caressing or feeling, just simply holding. The omega's thighs squeezed Spock’s sides, bony knees pressed into the Vulcan’s ribs, able to feel his heart pulse against Jim’s thigh. This was the most intimate they had ever been, Jim mused. It was not as though they had never had sex in this position, or had never been knotted in this position, but Jim had never been so lucid. Spock held back because of Jim’s lucidity, only following a pace with what Jim appeared to be comfortable with. Which was kind, but also alarming. The whole purpose of their at-home dynamic was Spock asserting himself because what Jim was comfortable with was not necessarily what he needed. Jim needed to be pushed. Though he felt that change within himself, he wondered how Spock fared, and if the Vulcan truly believed it.

“You did not look me in the eye without it obviously becoming a challenge to prove that you can,” Spock suddenly said.

Jim sighed, the quiet was too good to be true, he supposed. Again, they were being strangely intimate. This sex had been entirely unprofessional and far more personal, though Jim could not pinpoint why it felt so different from all the other times they had sexual intercourse.

“I was afraid,” Jim stopped when Spock sucked in an obviously terrified breath, “that I would kiss you.”

The breath released just as quickly. “I understand.”

“This felt different,” Jim murmured.

“Indeed,” Spock replied in quiet contemplation.

“I needed it,” Jim coalesced.

“As did I,” Spock admitted.

“But, it’s different.”

Spock was quiet, though that was not strange for the Vulcan; he liked to choose his words carefully. Jim usually was good at not spitting out every single thought in his head as well, but the quiet was far more daunting in this moment.

“You said I left impressions in your mind after the meld. What impressions did I leave?” Spock asked cautiously.

This was a field of landmines suddenly. Jim had created a problem, eggshells he had to walk across, because he started this. “That our minds were meant for each other. That our connection was more than just biological. More than what our…professional relationship requires us to be.”

The Vulcan gently caressed Jim’s head and continued to stroke down his spine until he stopped at the base of it. “That is factually true. Your mind is dynamic and highly compatible with my own in a way that T’Pring’s is not.”

“Is her mind compatible with yours in a way that mine is not?”

“No,” Spock answered easily.

“Why did you untangle that last knot? I know that had nothing to do with you or Gary,” Jim said.

Spock sought to be careful with his words, but in the end, the Vulcan was reckless, and Jim smelled a mess of emotions. “Your light could not reach where I was, I—” Spock paused at Jim’s hitch of breath. “I felt it was prudent that I remove it sooner rather than later.”

Jim was quick with his reply, “You assumed you’d be in my mind again.”

It was at that moment that Jim was able to pull away from Spock, the Vulcan’s knot had reduced, and the omega needed distance. So much distance that he pulled a sheet from his nest and covered his body as he stared at Spock with wide, terrified eyes. Jim was not terrified of Spock, but of the feelings that bubbled up within him. Spock seemed to behave as if he knew their future, and that no matter how much Jim pushed him away or attempted to remain professional, they would collide together and make each other whole, mind, body, and soul. That terrified Jim. Not because he didn’t want it. But suddenly he did.

“I would not without your permission.”

“That’s, you know that’s not what I mean,” Jim’s voice waivered. “We need…distance.”

“Jim,” Spock protested. “We have had distance, you instigated this night because, as you admitted, you needed it.”

“That’s beside the point. Things are different now.”

“I can compartmentalize efficiently. The information I have discovered has not changed my professional responsibility to you,” Spock asserted.

Jim frowned and looked away. Spock was right, probably. He had done well compartmentalizing. Jim was the one who had suddenly flipped the switch. Because he was afraid of Spock’s feelings. Not his own. Of course, Jim had assumed in the future they would be bonded as a duo; he just thought it would be bodily, not mind and soul, too. Spock did not expect that from him and would not take what was not freely given. And Jim had freely given himself to Spock time and time again because his body needed it. The situation had changed, but not so severely that Jim had to be fearful that Spock would cross a line; he had not yet. Jim was the problem because he was suddenly unable to compartmentalize as successfully as before.

Slowly, he made his way back between Spock’s legs and sat back so his back rested against Spock’s chest. He allowed his feeble shields to fall so Spock could feel that Jim was alright, unafraid of the Vulcan or the implications to their future. Jim could live moment to moment, always had since Tarsus. It was in Spock’s arms that he fell asleep, comfortable and restful for the first time since he had forced the distance between them.

Chapter Text

The situation was not what it once had been. Since the mind-meld, Jim just couldn’t allow himself to fall into the same pattern as before, which genuinely frustrated him to no end. They still shared the occasional nights in Jim’s nest, but it was no longer a nightly occurrence. Not just because Jim maintained more distance between them, Spock split his time between Jim and his Enterprise friends since T’Pring had returned to Vulcan. Because he was alone more often, Jim tried to find the motivation to put forth effort into other relationships. Namely, Bones and Sam. A holiday had come and gone, two weeks spent in Iowa with Sam and their mother for the break for no reason other than because they were all planet-side. They hadn’t observed Hanukkah as a family in years, and while it seemed like the appropriate thing to do, Jim wasn’t quite up for the façade of holiday cheer. Earth culture had grown beyond the need to force meaning into a minor holiday because of a convenient overlap with another religion’s celebration, and while he and Sam had appreciated the gifts and time off from school, neither felt particularly sentimental towards the memories of their parents fighting or spending the days alone.

Jim had not enjoyed the time away from Spock, the itch to have his alpha close stronger than ever. But he would have to get used to it when they went back to their respective ships. Sam and his mother attempted to pry information regarding his relationship with the Vulcan. Sam was a bit more successful than Winona, but Sam was always easier to talk to. Spock was his supervisor, after all, so he would simply remark on Spock’s personality or share an anecdote and that would prompt Jim to speak a little easier than his mother who seemed to just ask endless and pointless questions.

By the time the new year had come around, Jim had been home in San Francisco for enough time to pass that the pressure began to mount when it came to starship assignments. Which meant his heat was on the horizon. While Jim was filled with anticipation, he still rarely saw Spock. It felt as though the Vulcan avoided him. The more logical alternative was that Spock had work to do, and Jim was projecting his emotional neediness and antsy-ness. The latter was more than likely. Pre-heats usually meant intense emotions all around, but jealousy had never been one of them. That was until Spock decided to invite Christine to their shared space and had (kindly) asked Jim to make himself scarce. It was the first inkling he had that there was something more between them, and he filled with sour emotions.

Though Jim hoped it was more associated with the shift of their dynamic, and his pre-heat, than any other, far more daunting emotional reasons. With a lack of structure, roles, or a consistent schedule, they had grown apart. That was Jim’s fault, admittedly. He had pushed Spock away in an attempt to protect them both and to see if he could manage well on his own. Spock untwisting his mind had certainly allowed Jim the ability to be well enough on his own, but not entirely. The main catalyst of why his heats became worse was a trauma that still lingered, that was still unresolved. And it manifested itself with Jim burrowed in his mess of a nest, in his room, while he listened to Spock and Christine’s muffled voices. Nothing of note happened that Jim knew of. It certainly had not been Jim’s finest moment either, but he would continue to blame pre-heat, which still had a hold on his semi-fragile mental and physical state.

The strength that Jim evoked to hold himself together all night unraveled entirely the morning after. Jim woke to Spock’s heavy and warm body covering his own under the blankets. He had fallen asleep on his stomach, so he lazily slid one leg up by his side, and Spock entered him with ease. The pair of them sighed in unison as if water had been poured on heated embers. The sex was slow, intimate yet again. Spock’s nose buried in the crook of Jim’s neck, and the omega’s eyes had fallen shut. Sleepily accepting that his alpha needed him. At least that aspect of their relationship had not changed. Jim had always enjoyed Spock simply coming to him, filling him, and using him whenever he needed. It made Jim’s excessive need feel more normal and reciprocal.

More days passed similarly after Spock’s birthday came and went. Then, the Vulcan went into rut. While Jim should have anticipated its occurrence, the event still came as a surprise only because it had occurred on campus. Which meant Spock had been sent to the heat center for observation rather than being able to hide in their home. However, it was a more convenient place for Spock to end up because Jim’s heat rapidly approached as well. When Leonard gave him a call, Jim tried to arrive as quickly as he could. He was as prepared for an alpha in rut and his heat as he could be. Spock’s rut would likely resolve faster than Jim’s heat, which in and of itself was good news.

Once at the facility, Jim paused in shock for a moment in the hall while Leonard, seemingly unfazed, continued to the end to open the door of the observation room. Jim could hear Spock’s voice before anything else, and that was particularly abnormal. The Vulcan was extremely even-keeled, as far as Jim knew at least, and he had never heard Spock raise his voice. Jim took a steadying breath in preparation for a hostile alpha, but when he entered the room, silence blanketed the room. Spock stood shirtless, pants unbuttoned, and a very clinical-looking Christine Chapel stood her ground despite the Vulcan’s attempt to intimidate the beta.

“Your pheromones don’t work on betas, Spock,” Jim spoke up as he began to undo his button-down shirt. His skin had already begun to prickle with sweat under the weight of Spock’s intense pheromone output.

“She wishes to observe us. That is unacceptable,” Spock growled.

Jim sighed and moved between Spock and Christine. He gave an apologetic smile to the woman before he gently walked the Vulcan back until his knees hit the bed and he was forced to sit. It seemed Spock was not immune to the delirium of rut despite his Vulcan heritage, which made Jim feel a bit better about his behavior during heat.

“She will not be observing. She’ll be monitoring.”

“Semantics,” Spock growled and tried to assist Jim with his shirt instead of truly arguing.

The omega slapped Spock’s hands away and gave him a stern glare. “Well, alpha, she isn’t here for you anyway. The beta is here to monitor me. Don’t you want to make sure your omega is healthy and safe?”

Spock appeared perturbed to be forced to watch Jim undress himself so painstakingly slow. Jim hoped his ploy would give Christine enough time to run her scans and steal any blood samples she needed from them. If he could distract Spock in rut so she could do her job, he’d call that a success. Alphas were irritable and irrationally possessive over any omega who helped them during their time. Jim could only hope Spock was just as distractable as any other alpha in rut.

“I do not wish for my rut with my omega to be observed by the person I am in a relationship with,” Spock protested.

Before Jim could say anything, Christine scoffed. “You’re actually kind of an idiot, Spock.”

“I didn’t realize you two were a thing,” Jim muttered and seemed to hesitate in his movements.

He didn’t care necessarily, but he wondered what she might think if she did overhear some aspects of their relationship. Christine gave him a sidelong glance as if she were surprised Jim hadn’t known. Spock had many friends he spent time with. As far as Jim knew, Christopher Pike was the only friend Spock had who was a man. Just because he had spent time with Christine did not mean much to Jim. Well, it also could be that in pre-heat, Jim tended to be a little delusional when it came to Spock.  

“You see, my omega is uncomfortable,” Spock attempted to point out.

Jim huffed and tossed his shirt off. “Trust me, your omega is just fine. It’s not as if my best friend hasn’t observed too. An eye for an eye?”

“That is not what that idiom means,” Spock protested quietly, though distracted by the glittering gold chains that made Jim’s elaborate collar.

“How would you know?” Jim retorted.

“I can do my job just fine,” Christine interrupted, “Plus, I’ve seen all your moves, Spock, nothing I haven’t directly experienced before.”

“All your moves?” Jim asked, his voice dropping low.

Spock seemed to search Jim’s avoidant eyes, but he gave Spock nothing.

“You are not as aggressive as you typically are during heat,” Spock noted.

“Not fully in heat yet. You’re jumpstarting it right now,” Jim muttered as he worked on his pants.

“Then hurry, omega,” Spock demanded.

“You’re still clothed,” Jim pointed out as he shucked his own pants and boxer briefs off.

Spock managed to get his hand on Jim’s forearm and pulled him close. The omega was quick to catch himself on the bed with a knee, and Spock, with his free hand, pulled Jim fully onto his lap. Spock’s lips found Jim’s jaw, and the human sighed happily at the soft warmth on his heated skin. A hand remained firm around Jim’s waist while the other moved from the omega’s wrist to stroke at Jim’s cocklett before it dipped down to feel his wet cunt. Long, lithe fingers slipped between the folds, gently stroked, and placed pressure around the outside of his dripping channel. With only a few moments of teasing, two fingers slipped into Jim’s channel and spread him open, forcing a groan of pleasure out of the omega.

“You’re still wearing—” Jim complained.

The Vulcan seemed uncaring, and Jim had barely a moment to register that Spock’s hand had left his cunt when a slick head lined up to his channel and Spock speared him on his cock. A loud moan filled with laughter left Jim as he was suddenly and forcefully filled to the brim. In the background, as he began to ride the cock that stretched his dripping heat, the door of their observation room slid open and closed before a computerized voice above them informed them it was locked. Jim could not find it in himself to care that Christine had seen the whole scene. Spock had ignored and threatened Christine in favor of having his omega as quickly as he possibly could. Despite the presence of particular company, and having been previously opposed to it. The desire the omega felt from being chosen only made his pre-heat and heat-based delusions soar.

Jim pushed Spock so the alpha was flat on his back on the bed with his feet still firmly planted on the floor. The omega continued the rock of his hips and Spock used his leverage to fuck up into his cunt, meeting every roll of his hips. Sounds of slapping skin and the squelch of a wet cunt being repeatedly filled echoed around the room. Jim’s fingers dug into Spock’s chest to root himself down as he met the vigor the Vulcan gave him. It was strange to be so lucid for this kind of sex. They weren’t battling for control, Jim wasn’t spiraling, it was simply sex for the sake of need and want. There was no undercurrent of Jim’s twisted mind, or the combination of their ever-twisting desires that grew more complicated as their relationship went on. Even when Spock knotted him and came inside his body, the alpha milked his cocklett to bring the omega to orgasm around him. Any other time, Jim would have complained about being knotted against open pants, but he melted into a pleased puddle against the Vulcan’s chest.

Spock’s internal clock was not appropriately paced. Though several hours prior, or maybe a day ago, the Vulcan had moved past the peak of his rut. It had not yet come to its finish because his omega was at the height of his heat. The Vulcan did not dwell as he was far more focused on the sticky wet sounds that came from the slap of skin, slick, and cum. Spock had a hand pressed into Jim’s lower abdomen to feel the bulge of his cock head every thrust in, pressing to intensify the full feeling his omega had.

During their time spent together, Spock experienced his first rut without sedatives and with a partner, which meant he was able to fully enjoy taking his omega without the pressures of needing to maintain clarity or control. Spock had left the omega covered in marks, bites on the glands on his inner thighs, on the swollen chest through the looser chains, and all over his hips and waist, where the toll of his extended heat was apparent. Currently, while the alpha had his omega bent over, weight on his shoulders and knees while Spock pounded from behind, the Alpha’s teeth were clamped down on the chainmail collar right where the omega’s bonding gland was in the crook of his neck. The Vulcan kept his other hand firm around the front of his omega’s neck to hold his head up and tilted enough that he could keep the grip he had on the chain that pressed into soft skin.

Hips continued to move at a determined pace, unrelenting, slick gushed with every thrust into the omega’s swollen and cum filled cunt. The alpha’s knot was hardly halfway swollen and he teased the omega’s sensitive entrance by fucking the half-knot in and out of the tight ring of muscle. It twitched to catch and trap the knot on every thrust in, but to no avail. The omega hollered in pleasure, sobbed, and rubbed his face into the mattress. The alpha had his omega pinned, taking his pleasure as though he were still in rut and in need. But really, the Vulcan knew what his omega needed. Could hear how his thoughts begged to be filled with seed, bred. Worse, images of the omega barefoot, pregnant, aching to still have his alpha care for him despite being pupped.

The Vulcan roared with renewed vigor and removed his mouth from the spot it currently occupied to the other side, attempting to puncture through a part of the chainmail that had yet to face his attempts to bite through. Of course, he was unsuccessful; Vulcan alloys mixed with Terran gold were extremely strong and invulnerable to the strength of a Vulcan’s bite. Still, the pressure of his attempt alone had his omega orgasming again on his cock, hips erratically rocking and cunt spasming on Spock’s member. Despite the arrhythmic movement of the omega’s hips, the Vulcan was unfazed and continued without his member slipping out. Once his omega settled again, he seemed to cry from oversensitivity and lack of fulfillment from a mate bond or a knot. The alpha knew better than to stop, for if he did, the omega would curse him, battle him, and take his cock regardless of the pain he felt from being unfulfilled and oversensitive.

Spock continued his work, biting hard on the metal, keeping a firm grip on the omega’s jaw, pressing into his bulging stomach, fucking his knot in and out. Until finally, the Vulcan’s knot popped, and his member filled the omega with more cum, only for some to spill past his knot because the omega had already been filled to the brim. The omega slumped boneless, and the alpha released him, only for the omega to shake as the pleasure and oversensitivity got to his body. Gently, he rolled them on their sides and kept Jim tight in his arms while he tucked his legs under the omega’s as well, so his knot was comfortably seated in his swollen and abused hole. The Vulcan ran his lips along the soft curve of Jim’s jaw while his eyes admired his work. A thoroughly claimed omega, in all the ways that didn’t count.

Gently, calloused fingers traced the curved point of the ear attached to the alpha who had been in a dead sleep for at least a good hour since Jim came out of his heat. Their legs were tangled, and Jim had his arm outstretched to map the Vulcan’s face. He had touched and memorized almost everything else, which led him to the Vulcan’s ear, tips flushed green. Jim slowly pulled his hand away when he saw Spock’s eyes flutter open and then reached over again to muss his hair some more. A warm hand moved from Jim’s knee, which was sitting right on top of Spock’s lower stomach, and up to his inner thigh, where the Vulcan had laid claim. Though it was far more temporary than even a mating bite, Jim shivered at the feel of their sexual connection.

“Do you have an idea of how many days it’s been in total?” Jim whispered once Spock turned to look at him with clear eyes.

“Five days, seven hours, and six minutes,” Spock replied, his lips twitching with mirth.

Jim found himself sharing a small smile and gave a nod. “Seems like the goal was met. Got my heat down to a reasonable time, and you came out with fewer marks than usual.”

“Indeed, although,” Spock paused and squeezed where his bite mark rested on the gland of Jim’s inner thigh, “the same cannot be said for you.”

The omega sighed, his eyes fluttered shut, and he licked his lips. Jim was trying to keep his body calm because the nature of a bite on the gland of his inner thigh would increase his libido for his alpha. A bite to the gland in a thigh increased their sexual connection for as long as the imprint remained. And Jim was doing his damnedest to try to get out of the room before Spock goaded him into another round of sex. Both of their bodies needed recovery, and Jim was unsure he could handle any more despite the non-heat-related desire for physical connection.

“Do you remember if my heat behavior was better?” Jim asked.

Spock turned on his side, removed his hand from Jim’s thigh to reach forward and remove the mangled collar with the separation of just one clasp. Which should not have been possible because there were several meant to keep it in place.

“It is hard to say, you did beg for me to mate you, as you did last time. However, I was at the tail end of rut when I attempted to make my claim, so it is difficult to determine if I would not have mangled this in my right state of mind,” Spock replied.

Jim sat up with a devastated sigh and took the destroyed collar from Spock’s hands. “Man,” he huffed, “I really liked this.”

The Vulcan mirrored Jim, so they both sat cross-legged on the bed as they touched the broken chain links. “It was,” Spock paused but seemed to find no better word, “beautiful. A well-designed tool. While it served its purpose, its creator will not be so happy that I have brought the piece to its end before even a year of your ownership.”

“You definitely owe me a new one,” Jim teased and pressed his cheek into Spock’s shoulder.

“Because you have brought up gifts, I have gifts for you to have when we depart from each other,” Spock murmured with pressed lips into Jim’s hair.

“Oh? So, no heat gift then?” Jim teased.

Spock’s fingers abandoned the golden chainmail to gently caress the side of Jim’s face, right at his psi-points. “You have a heat gift; I am not a beast with disregard for our agreement.”

Jim snorted and, against his better judgment, allowed Spock his gentle affections. “Alright, well, get on with the heat gift because I am definitely owed one after you fucked me in front of your girlfriend—which by the way, you should have told me about—”

“I did inform you I had a relationship with someone on the Enterprise who was not my fiancée,” Spock interrupted and pulled away from Jim.

The omega practically found himself scrambling after the man, collecting his clothes to put back on. “You didn’t tell me the name of the person. Might have been nice to know just in case something like this happened.” Jim turned to glance into a camera and smiled sheepishly, “Not that I’m mad about it! You’re very good and professional, Nurse Chapel.”

The Vulcan was only half dressed compared to Jim, who had already pulled on pants and was buttoning his shirt. In Spock’s hands was a clothing item with a small bow around it. “This is not something I made, I do not have my mother’s skill, but she made this for you.”

Jim turned back around to face Spock and stood at his full height, hazel eyes wide with shock. “For me, you told your mother—”

“Of course, I told my mother, your family knows of me.”

“That’s true, but my mom didn’t force me to gift you anything,” Jim muttered, embarrassed.

“Your mother is a beta.”

“That’s true,” Jim replied with brows furrowed and fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt he had yet to finish closing.

Spock moved close to Jim and only left enough distance to ensure the gift between them was not crushed. “My mother is an omega. She made this and forced me to wear it for the entire holiday. I protested because I believed it to be unhygienic, but according to her, no matter how many times it is washed, it will smell like me.”

Jim could feel heat spread from his cheeks and down to his loins at the implication. Everyone simply assumed Jim and Spock would go back to being stationed separately. They assumed this match would be so successful that Jim could skirt regulation just enough to continue the course he had been on. Starfleet was breaking regulations for them, which meant that what Spock felt in his mind, what Jim was beginning to feel in the depths of his stomach and tips of his fingers, was a well-made match. A command team that would require any and all opportunities to succeed, even if it meant they were separated to do it. Spock’s mother had somehow seen all this in her son and had knitted a sweater, forced Spock to sit nastily in it for at least eight days of holiday (if not more after), just so that Jim could be successful without having his alpha by his side. Because Jim needed Spock.

The gift was gently placed in Jim’s hands, and while the omega felt the soft knit, Spock finished buttoning his shirt for him, and smoothed his hair out before his touch disappeared. Jim’s eyes flicked up to Spock as he lifted the sweater to his nose and took a slow inhale, eyes fluttered shut. There was absolutely no way Spock’s scent would ever leave this garment, not even if Jim wore it and was in heat. His scent was a part of the fabric now, the Vulcan’s mother had made sure of it. Another soft sigh of enjoyment and Jim righted himself, holding the still folded and tied sweater with his hands at his waistline.

“Tell your mother I said thank you,” Jim said seriously.

“Of course,” Spock replied with fondness in his voice.

“But,” Jim sing-songed and moved around the Vulcan to find his shoes.

“But?”

“This is a gift from your mother,” Jim laughed, “Not from you. So, by the time our shuttle lands at Spacedock, I expect a heat gift.”

“Jim,” Spock chastised, and Jim knew if he had been human, he would have groaned childishly.

“Oh, I don’t make the rules, Spock, these are human cultural values that you’re attempting to skirt around via a loophole,” Jim cackled. Spock worked his shirt on right when the omega saw a flicker of a smile, and that fondness turned to something far more serious than Jim could genuinely handle. Unable to help himself, Jim tried to school a serious face and asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spock, unphased and pleased that he had been noticed, simply replied, “I, often and wrongly, forget that you are far more intelligent than you allow yourself to be perceived.”

Jim snorted and opened the door of the room now that they were both dressed and ignored the physicians who waited on the other side for them. “That’s right, Mr. Spock, you can’t get nothing past me.”

“Based on the grammatical structuring of that sentence, I retract my previous statement.”

The omega simply tossed his head back in another bark of laughter, earning him the crinkling of the corners of Spock’s eyes.

Starbase 1 bustled. The USS Enterprise had been docked there since Lieutenant Una Chin Riley had been arrested for being an Illyrian, and the USS Farragut had docked upon receiving word that Jim Kirk was ready to go back on assignment. It was right outside the personnel tunnels that led to the Enterprise that Jim and Spock stood. Jim had insisted that he walk Spock to his ship despite the Enterprise remaining docked until Una Chin Riley’s criminal case had been finalized because he wanted to break Spock’s habit of traditional roles. Spock was not going to be around to put Jim in his place in private, which meant in public, Jim knew he needed to reinforce that he was his own man. Plus, Jim did not want his crew to know who exactly his alpha was. They would know he had one regardless, because of his scent and the change in his jewelry, but they did not need to know the alpha was Spock.

Jim assumed that Spock’s crew was well aware of their status at this point because he assumed his brother, Nurse Chapel, and Captain Pike probably talked. Not to mention that Jim would be visiting every three months, so it was a logical course of action to have this meeting in front of the Enterprise. (Really, Jim was concerned his crew would respect him less or feel foul about the special treatment Jim was receiving.) It was right outside that the passing Enterprise crew would see the pair if they cared to watch. Hands on each other’s forearms, wrists pressed together, and free hands either tucked behind backs or in pockets. It was the closest contact they allowed themselves to indulge in public, the most Spock could allow because of his heritage. Their bags had already been transported to their respective ships, so all that was between their feet was a gift bag, with gifts that Spock had already promised to his omega.

“Now, don’t get sappy on me Mr. Spock, we’ll see each other in April,” Jim smiled.

“I will have missed your birthday,” Spock replied factually, though Jim thought he might be disappointed.

“You told me celebrating birthdays was illogical when I wanted to throw you a party,” Jim pointed out with a small, tight-lipped smile.

“Vulcans do not celebrate birthdays or holidays the way humans do.”

“Well,” Jim snorted, “That’s not true because I know you spent Hanukkah with your mother while I was celebrating it with mine. But, regardless, I hate my birthday, so it’s better that it’s not celebrated.”

Spock tilted his head in understanding. “I will provide you with an adequate gift upon our next meeting.”

“That’s to be expected,” Jim gave a nod.

“I do not understand how you are able to force my hand into giving you multiple gifts,” Spock complained.

Jim knew the complaint was fake; it was the most human aspect to Spock. Their shared culture relied on complaining as a method of mutualistic communication, whether or not Spock was aware that’s what he engaged in. It was comfortable and made Jim want to jump the proverbial ship. Comfortable meant he wasn’t safe, that he was diving into something too easily, that he was simply not being cautious, and that would bite him in the ass.

“Jim,” Spock whispered and lightly tapped his fingers against Jim’s forearms.

“Sorry,” he breathed out and focused his distant eyes back onto the chocolate depths. “Before you give me my gifts that I’m rightly owed. I have something for you.”

“I do not recall there being courting stipulations in the reverse direction.”

The omega smiled at the sight of that raised brow. Had they been furrowed ever so slightly, Jim might have thought Spock was genuinely upset, but the raised brow indicated he was curious.

“No, you’re correct. I got you a birthday present and it isn’t practical so sorry about that,” Jim sighed and pulled his hand out of his pocket.

In the palm of his hand was a clamshell box, presented readily to Spock. The pair parted from their wrist-to-wrist grasp so Jim could open the box and reveal a flat platinum pendant hung from a curb chain. On the pendant was a relief with teal mineral in Golic Vulcan. Jim, in his abundance of free time, had been attempting to learn Vulcan, and Golic Vulcan specifically, which was a higher level of difficulty from the Standard Vulcan Dialect used in the Federation. Though Jim had proficiencies with a few languages, Vulcan was particularly difficult.

“Are you aware that it has the potential to mean blood oath?” Spock asked, eyes fixed on the jewelry.

“The jeweler I asked to make this said the same thing, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told him,” Jim took in a breath before he released it, “My loyalty to you is a blood oath.”

Spock remained quiet and his curious eyebrow fell flat, a face Jim had not yet seen, so he had not yet learned what it meant. The Vulcan was in a neutral emotive state, and though Jim had spent a lot of time alone with Spock, he still had no idea if that meant Spock was feeling everything, and if everything he was feeling was good.

“This is a thoughtful gift, Jim.”

“Well, the jeweler said I was insane, so I must be doing something right to be on opposite spectrums of Vulcan emotion,” Jim chuckled nervously. “Can I put it on you?”

The Vulcan looked up at Jim with eyes wide, though the rest of his face remained impassive. It was nice to see that Spock understood the weight of Jim putting jewelry on the alpha. Though it really meant nothing to their current relationship, Jim had in the past and now promised a solid future. So, Jim passed the case into Spock’s hands, his callouses brushed against the palms of the Vulcan’s hands, sparking excitement in the tips of Jim’s fingers. The omega moved past the zings up and down his spine as he picked up the chain and lifted the necklace from its cushion. Spock ducked his head slightly, and Jim was sure to be careful of his ears and perfectly styled hair as he brought the item over his head and around the Vulcan’s neck. It was also the perfect excuse for Jim to brush his wrists against the glands in Spock’s neck as fingers smoothed the chain from the back to the front and down his chest.

“Thank you,” Jim said softly, “You don’t have to wear it all the time. I’m sure T’Pring nor Christine would be pleased to see I’ve put some sort of claim on you.”

“I will wear it besides T’Pring’s engagement claim. I hide nothing from either of them, they know of your importance to me,” Spock spoke, voice low.

Jim’s hands had remained on Spock’s chest, and the vibrations of his quiet, rumbling, baritone voice vibrated through his hands and his entire body. “Show me my gifts before I do something stupid to your very pretty face out in public in front of your crew.” Jim pulled his hands away so Spock could lift the bag between their feet.

“I will not comment on your compliment—”

“—I think you just did—”

“—as you will find these gifts far more interesting than whatever public display you wish to do to my…pretty face.”

The omega laughed openly as he peered into the bag and got wide-eyed. He snatched the bag from the Vulcan and smiled a closed-lip smile that reached to his crinkling eyes and nose. “You got me books and a blanket.”

“One of the books was listed on your ‘to be collected’ database, one I believe you might enjoy, and the third is one I was fond of in childhood. The blanket simply is practical,” Spock spoke stiffly.

Jim worked quickly to contain his excitement and brought the bag and his hands behind his back while he took a half step forward to close the distance that had been maintained between them.

“Only really sweet alphas get omegas nesting materials,” Jim spoke, a purr suddenly bubbling up and maintaining while he spoke. “They also get omegas hobby items that are entirely impractical, but entirely meaningful. If I didn’t know better, Mr. Spock, I would believe you are attempting to seduce another Starfleet officer.”

Spock’s mouth opened to retort, but it was clear he was distracted by Jim purring, and Jim truly could not stop himself, it was an involuntary vocal reaction that literally only Spock was able to pull out of him in the most unpredictable of situations.

Then, the Vulcan leaned in and with only a breath of space between them whispered, “You must be projecting that false reality onto me. I will be prudent next time to not make my claim on your inguinal region.”

Jim reeled back, wheezing with laughter, purr quickly cut short. “That was the least sexiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Spock still seemed smug as he righted himself. “Yet, I know that you will use those exact words while you beg, next we meet.” The Vulcan raised the ta’al and bowed his head slightly. “Until we meet again, Live Long and Prosper, Lieutenant Kirk.”

The omega was still laughing as he did his best to respond with his terrible excuse for a ta’al. “Peace and long life, Mr. Spock.”

Chapter Text

Say hi to Sam for me.

Those were the last words James had said before he died in her arms. The words that haunted her to finish the mission, to make it home and check on her Enterprise. Alone in her room, she unraveled. James T. Kirk had destroyed every wall she had built to protect herself, and without him, she crumbled. How could she ever look at Sam Kirk again after having watched his brother die, after she felt her heart shatter? La’An did not fall for anyone easily (note: she had never fallen for anyone).

Never had La’An seen a future beyond herself and Starfleet. Not that she had never been in a relationship with anyone, but it had never felt as easy as breathing. It was in the past that she had built a new kind of future for herself beyond Starfleet, and as quickly as it was built up, she watched it wash away like a drawing in sand at high tide. How could James T. Kirk have peered into her soul so easily? He had pulled out desires and dreams she never dared to have.

 While the Time Assassin had tried to free her from the infamy attached to her name, James T. Kirk, even in the abruptness of his death, had given her the freedom not only to feel, but to see a future for herself.

And James T. Kirk was not entirely out of reach in her universe. He was tangible. There was hope that the drawings in the sand could become concrete.

M’Benga was right, she had been lonely, but she did not need to be.

“Sam!” Jim exclaimed the moment he saw his brother after being beamed aboard.

The USS Farragut was under the command of Captain Pike (well, temporary Fleet Captain Pike), with an outpost refinery being built in Bannon’s Nebula. Typically, the Farragut would not be assigned to such a mission, nor would this sort of mission require two starships. However, the real mission was for Jim to board the Enterprise for a temporary planned heat leave. The moment he felt his pre-heat symptoms, he alerted his own ship’s medical staff, who informed the powers that be, so that arrangements could he made, under the guise of an important mission. Not that the mission was not important, and Jim did have his part to play in it, but eventually he would go into heat taking out the Enterprise’s Chief Science Officer.

Thus, it was important for both ships to stand as a fleet. Not just to hide the real reason for their joining forces, but to support one another, as important staff suddenly became unavailable. Jim’s bags had already been sent to a guest room, per his request, as Spock was likely not to be alerted of Jim’s arrival until the day they were assigned this mission. Because he did not feel comfortable enough to contact the Vulcan himself, Jim did not want to assume he would stay in the alpha’s quarters. He kept in mind that Spock had a girlfriend on the ship, and Jim truly did not want to interfere with that relationship. The omega did, however, alert his brother, who was more than happy to greet him.

“Jimmy, welcome to the Enterprise.”

Jim looked around with awe and jealousy. “Hell of a ship, and they let you work here?”

Sam chuckled, “What can I say? Captain Pike asked for the more handsome Kirk brother.”

The younger Kirk brother laughed and pulled his brother into a hug, clapped his back, and then took a step back. With his hands still firm on Sam’s shoulders, he assessed his brother up and down. Jim had always found humor that he was taller than Sam despite their opposing designations.

“You want a tour?” Sam asked as he kept an arm around the middle of Jim’s back.

Jim kept his arm around his brother’s shoulder happily and nodded, “As long as it ends at the bar.”

The tour led, in fact, straight to the bar. Sam was off duty, as was Jim. Because they would need to get rest eventually before the next Alpha shift, it made the most sense to go straight to one of the recreation bars to sit down and converse. A real tour could be had once they were on duty and had to be more professional and serious.

“So, what’s new and exciting in the world of xenoanthropology?”

Sam smiled, a flash of excitement in his eyes, “Literally everything in xenoanthropology is new and exciting.” The man took his glass and sighed, “But, instead of giving you a long answer you don’t actually care about, why don’t we skip to your news?”

“Wow,” Jim breathed in, face pinched. “Sensing some hostility there, Sam.”

“Not at all,” Sam sucked in a breath too as he raised his glass, “Congrats, Jim. First officer of the Farragut.”

“Well, not for another few months, still have to train my replacement,” Jim swallowed a swig of dark liquor Sam had ordered for them.

“Still, it’s quite an achievement.”

“Thank you,” Jim nodded.

“And youngest first officer in the whole fleet,” Sam appeared to be in disbelief, “Youngest first officer ever, actually.” His older brother sucked on his teeth as he stared into his drink. “I don’t suppose you remember who held the record before you?”

Jim sighed, “Okay, so that’s what this is.”

“George Kirk Senior, first officer of the Kelvin.”

“And First Officer Una Chin-Riley was the first omega XO,” Jim shot back with annoyance. “Look, Dad gave you his first name, and you’re an alpha, so I have to do something to keep up.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief as he started to say, “You’re making me look—”

“Like what?” Jim pressed, “What does my ambition have to do with you?”

“He has a very old-fashioned idea of what a successful career and a fulfilling life looks like,” Sam pushed back, “and it just so happens it looks a lot like you.”

Jim swallowed what he wanted to say. Sam was feeling sorry for himself for reasons Jim could not fathom. So it was not worth telling Sam that he would never have to face the issues Jim faced, not just because he was an omega, but because Sam never wanted anything more than to be a scientist. Jim had become the target of their father’s imposed career ambitions after Sam ran away. And Jim would also not dare mention how they both knew George was disappointed that their youngest was an omega. Sam was the alpha George had hoped for, but even a Beta would have been a better option than an omega. Jim knew what their father would have chosen for Jim if George had been given that choice.

“If you’re worried about impressing Dad, then why are you wallowing in a science lab?”

Jim knew it was the wrong thing to say, but it was the least damaging statement out of all the thoughts that muddied his mind. Even without the added weight of their opposing designations’ pheromones, the tension between the brothers could be cut with a knife.

“Wallowing, seriously?” Sam practically cursed him and looked to be on the verge of crying.

Jim pivoted his point because he really did not want to see his brother cry. “Records are made to be broken, and you know how much work I put in just in this past year to break this one. So, what, why can’t we make him proud in our own ways?”

Sam raised his glass, clearly not listening as he said, “Or not at all.”

Watching Sam walk away was annoying, but seeing Spock come into the bar with Nurse Christine Chapel to play chess was worse. With the heightened senses of pre-heat, Jim could smell Spock even from the distance between them across the bar, and it took a lot of control for him to not interrupt the date the Vulcan was clearly on. It seemed Spock had not yet noticed him, likely because he had nasal suppressants. Jim knew that while on Earth, Spock had sacrificed his freedom from the stink of humans for his and Jim’s benefit. However, there was a more annoying alternative: Spock had seen (or smelled) Jim and said nothing. Though it was true they were attempting to maintain a professional relationship, Jim would have thought that meant they could at least greet each other.

In reality, the omega was not annoyed that Spock had not greeted him; it was just easier to focus on that rather than the jealousy he had regarding Spock playing chess with Nurse Chapel. She was not bad at the game, but certainly not on a level needed to compete against Spock. However, Spock was not performing as well as he usually did because they were engaged in a serious conversation that appeared to be an emotional battlefield. Jim had been observing every move, without even an attempt at being discreet about his watchful eye. Though it appeared that Spock and Nurse Chapel were clearly experts at ignoring annoying, nosey omegas.

There's been an attack in the past. You have to stop it.

Red alert sirens sounded. The bridge. La’An had to get to the bridge. The man with a bullet wound from the past, who had handed La’An the strange device, had advised her to head to the bridge before he disappeared. She was disoriented, but she ran to the lift and took the few seconds she had to steady herself so she could report to the captain. However, upon entering the bridge, the man who turned around in the captain’s chair was not Captain Christopher Pike. Nor was the man Starfleet, which was clear from their different delta insignia badges.

La’An breathed too heavily as the disorientation returned. An uncanny reaction to the space she stood in. It occupied her mind more than the desire to answer the captain’s question. The epinephrine that surged through her body forced her senses into overdrive. Senses that were typically well-controlled because she was an augment. Loud sounds and flashing lights were overwhelming, but even more distracting was the scent that permeated from the captain’s chair.

Even if every aspect of the bridge was similar to the one La’An knew, and their delta insignias were correct, the omega in the captain’s chair alone was enough to inform her that she was in an entirely different universe. It had also become clear that there was no alpha on the bridge meant to balance the omega. No couplet dance between omega and alpha like she saw between Chris and Una. The omega Captain was alone.

The scent, too, was intoxicating. Because she had no real control over her senses, La’An grew frustrated from experiencing the full-bodied scent. So distracted, La’An was unable to answer the captain’s question before they were interrupted by a signal incoming from a Vulcan ship. La’An’s eyes shifted to the view screen.

Spock.

The pair introduced themselves, but the shift in Captain James T. Kirk’s scent told her that he was already familiar with Spock. (La’An had never thought to picture Sam’s brother before, and that added a new level of disorientation.) She took note of Captain Kirk’s shift in posture before she continued to stare at her…friend…who asked for help against the Romulans.

Shock forced La’An back into the moment because Captain Kirk denied the chance to team up with someone who clearly needed help. Someone that Captain Kirk was intimately familiar with just from his scent alone. Maybe some other lifetime, he had said while he spoke Spock’s name with such familiarity. Spock was desperate, an individual in her universe who never asked for help, and this man rejected the request without thoughtful consideration.

How would James T. Kirk treat her, a person out of her time with an unclear mission?

When Nurse Chapel and Spock were distracted by a crewmate, Jim, still sipping his drink at the bar, turned his body to face the group more directly so he could study the exchange. Jim had never seen Spock interact with any of his friends as a fly on the wall. It was worth mentioning that the Vulcan had done an excellent job at keeping Jim entirely in the dark about his friends, while Jim had let Spock meet almost everyone important to him (even if not terribly long after, Finney departed his life ), however unintentionally. There was no bitterness at how Spock had hidden Jim because it had been done at Jim’s request, knowing that if he knew more about the Vulcan, he would be overtaken with emotions he didn’t feel ready for. Despite this, Jim was a curious person by nature and could not help but watch Spock and Christine care for this newcomer. A newcomer that had been thusly pissed off by the pair and stormed to the part of the bar Jim sat at.

After the young woman ordered her drink, Jim rapped his fingers, offered a teasing smile as he said, “Your Vulcan buddy should protect his queen. He was two moves away from checkmate until you distracted him, now he’s in trouble.” Jim shifted from his lounging position on the bar to reach his hand over in offering. “James Kirk.”

They needed money. As strange as it felt to need it for food and shelter, luckily for La’An, it seemed Kirk had an idea of how they could make quick cash. In a park by the edge of Lake Ontario, they wandered into an area where chessboards were set up for public use. It was there that Kirk swindled and beat everyone who dared play against him in chess. Betting on games had earned them a lot more money than La’An would have ever expected. However, given the time period, an omega with too much confidence was catnip to an Alpha or Beta that wanted to prove they were better than an omega. La’An felt the heat of enjoyment as she observed Kirk intellectually brutalizing Alpha after Beta after Alpha.

Kirk had a smugness to him that typically she would find unattractive, but he wore it well. La’An had seen his confidence as a kind of wall, not unlike her own, and maybe it still was in one way, but it was also very real and well deserved. While he beat the entire park of chess players, Kirk was able to charm his way into more games, more money, and out of any arguments that someone might have wanted to have with him. Diplomacy was an excellent skill for a Starfleet Officer, though she reminded herself that he was not Starfleet and was not from her universe. La’An really wanted to ignore how at ease she felt with Kirk, in this strange time, especially with her face muzzled.

At the time, she had ignored how Kirk had said he had been looking for a proper opponent to play chess with. It was a moment that she would reflect on later, just as she would with the moment on the bridge. The memories La’An made with this James T. Kirk would provide insight into the future, but in the moment, it had not been something her mind had lingered on. Because it seemed irrelevant at the time. Until the future came to pass, and these small moments would all hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Uhura,” she accepted Jim’s hand with caution and suspicion. “You’re Sam’s brother.”

Jim knew that look all too well. Sam had told her the rumors that had spread around Starfleet, because despite none of them being true, Sam believed them. Or maybe Sam didn’t actually trust the rumors and only told them to Jim to neg him. So, it was entirely possible she had just assumed Jim’s character based on a quick first glance. Sam did seem a bit ignorant of Jim’s plight, considering the conversation they’d had moments ago. So, he would try to give Sam and Uhura the benefit of the doubt and hope she was just having some sort of day.

“Oh, you’re friends with Sam,” he replied in what he hoped would come off as friendly.

Uhura scoffed, “Look, I don’t really want to be hit on right now.”

And there it was. “Oh.” Jim began to draw out his vowels and spoke a little sarcastically. “You’re friends with Sam.” That answered that question, she was having a day and Sam liked to help spread rumors. The omega chortled and shook his head. “No one is hitting on anyone. You sat next to me, and you look like you could use a friend.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I am not in the market for friends right now.”

And with that, Uhura finished her drink in one swallow and left the bar. Jim had taken his time to finish his drink, but ended up following the young woman because she seemed unwell, and her friends (Spock and Nurse Chapel) were too engrossed in their own dramatics to realize. That had led to a series of events from getting decked in the face to Uhura fixing his nose apologetically. (Strange how often Jim made friends this way.) Jim had then gone on a fact-finding mission to the Farragut, reported back to the Enterprise with a decent lead, and then searched for the crewmate he had pulled records of. Then, the pair of them had managed to collect said crewmate until then, the crewmate who had snuck out of sickbay, forcing them to go back to find him.

 Uhura had to at one point abandon Jim because she had the wherewithal to realize that she may not be able to appropriately handle the situation given her condition. Managing hallucinations while on a mission was a difficult task. Something Jim had done several times before, but it was not ideal, especially when other people could easily replace you or continue without you. In his continued search for the escaped crewmate, Ramon, he ran into Christopher Pike and La’An Noonien-Singh.

“James,” she spoke with a recognition that distant acquaintances like them should not have.

In the fancy hotel suite the pair of them had managed to steal, La’An could not find sleep. For some unknown reason, the self-sacrificing omega had given her the bed rather than accept it when she had offered. Sleep evaded her as she remained off-kilter from the tingling sensation she felt when calloused fingertips removed her muzzle. Impulsively, she left the bed, a robe wrapped around herself, and quietly padded out to the living area. There the omega was, pretending to sleep on the couch, without a blanket to cover himself. She took a step forward and paused to debate internally.

Kirk answered her silent question when he sat up and peered at her with curiously wide hazel eyes. His hair was a mess on top of his head from his attempt at chasing sleep. La’An took a hesitant step back, unsure of herself and whether she should be opening herself up more to James. But he then stood and met her where she was. The hot dog length distance that had been maintained between them and their flirting while the sun had set earlier was less than a few centimeters now. And the height La’An had from the lifts she had worn was gone. So, James stood with his head tilted down just so, while his neck was offered. La’An thought he might not have even realized, given his posture.

“Did you want to come to bed?” La’An breathed and tilted her head up to meet him halfway.

“Are we just sleeping, or...?” James whispered back, his lips only a breath away.

La’An might have wanted to say it was a mistake inviting Kirk to bed—sleeping with him. But she would never regret it. The sex had been as close to perfect as two strangers could have. James had taken her in with ease, soaked and loose. He had been just as affected by her as she had been by him. Though she was similarly dripping from her own cunt, James had preferred to ride on her clitoral dick. La’An would never complain either because as nice as James’s cocklett looked, his cunt felt much nicer. The omega was skilled, and his body held onto her so tenderly. They kissed intimately, and James asked for her seed over and over. Wanting to be filled, wanting her to stake her claim, and wanting so much more than either of them could realistically have with each other.

And La’An gave James what he asked for happily. Kissed him as if they had kissed thousands of times before and fucked him with the intimacy of that like age-old lovers. As they fell asleep, James’s cheek pressed to her sternum, her arms wrapped around his body, and their legs tangled. It was in her heated skin he had whispered hopes of her seed taking, not caring that she had not knotted (because she could not). There in her arms, he moved one of her hands to feel the soft swell of his lower stomach, where he murmured thoughts of how well-bred she made him. That sort of bedroom talk had never been something of interest to La’An, until James, but maybe that was because it had never seemed so truly sincere until him.

When the morning came, they showered. La’An cleaned the omega, ate him out, and felt his orgasm on her face. And James did the same for her, hoisting her small body on his shoulders in a display of strength so he could get a better angle. (Something La’An had thought to do to him, but it was because she was an augment and able to do so that she chose not to. Most people did not enjoy being reminded that she was augmented, capable of strength they had never seen a human do.) La’An had left the shower first, leaving James to clean himself up lest they get distracted again. They still had a mission.

La’An’s scent leeched out, and it was the first time Jim had smelled that particular alpha scent. Given that he had potentially smelled every eligible alpha since he entered Starfleet and had become eligible at 18, he felt confident he had scented everyone in his age range (and outside of it). Which meant something about her physiology allowed her to be exempt from being required to be in a duo pair. Likely her being an augment, which he assumed based on her last name, Noonien-Singh, but Jim hated to assume. Even if his assumptions were usually correct. But not only was it the first time he smelled that particular scent, it was the first time he enjoyed smelling an alpha’s scent that wasn’t Spock’s. And that was a curiosity in and of itself.

“You two know each other?” Pike asked with surprise.

“Now is not a good time to explain, Captain,” La’An interrupted.

She spoke as though there were depths to her and Jim’s relationship, but as far as he knew, they did not actually exist. So, either there were depths that she had already read into from their short call, or something was going on concerning him that provided those depths.

“This is Lieutenant Kirk,” Jim answered the call in his quarters as he was just about to settle in for the night.

“Uh, hi,” the mysterious woman on the other end answered.

“Do I know you?” Jim asked in an attempt to assess why she decided to suddenly call him.

“No, we’ve never met,” she stuttered, “I’m La’An Noonien-Singh, Chief Officer of Security on the Enterprise.”

“Oh stars, what did Sam do?” Jim interrupted.

He was Sam’s emergency contact over their parents because he was currently deployed in the fleet. And never would Jim expect to receive a call about Spock, at least not from the COS of the Enterprise.

“Oh no, no, Sam—Sorry, Sam is fine.” She seemed more frazzled than Jim would ever expect from a COS, clearly not adept at lying at all. “I was just looking for—um—something for his file.”

“His security file?” Jim asked, confused.

“That’s right,” she cleared her throat. Despite it being a small video, he could see so clearly the loss that flushed her freckled, high cheekbones. “Just a place of birth, please.”

“Riverside, Iowa,” Jim answered with befuddlement because that would be the easiest information to find in a file. “Same as me.”

“Iowa on Earth?”

Jim laughed awkwardly, “Iowa on Earth, yes ma’am.” He knew his verbiage was a departure from Starfleet standard ‘sir’, but being reminded of Iowa and the strange exchange seemed to bring the Midwest out of him. “Is that really why you’re calling?” Jim could tell there was more; the grief meant something in this exchange.

“That’s it,” La’An answered, seemingly satisfied with him. “I’m just a sticker for a—uh—orderly security record so—”

“Well,” Jim rolled his shoulders as he admired her more pleased face. “If you want the real dirt on George Samuel Kirk, buy me a drink next time we’re on Starbase together. I got some real gems for his permanent file.”

Tears dewed on her lashes as she replied, “That sounds lovely.”

And Jim decided that it was a suitable time to hang up the strange, but interesting, call with La’An, “Kirk out.” Immediately upon finishing the call, he rang Spock because he did not want his brother bothering the woman and knew Spock would be discreet enough regardless of whether she was a friend of his.

“Lieutenant Kirk, I was not expecting a call from you,” Spock answered.

“Mr. Spock,” Jim replied, “I just received a call from your Chief of Security, and she asked me where Sam was born to ‘keep tidy security files’. Do you have any idea what that might have been about?”

Spock was quiet and thoughtful, then clearly puzzled with furrowed brows. “I do not know why she would believe Sam Kirk’s file to be inaccurate, nor why she would call to ask you to confirm what Sam could just as well.”

Jim hummed and shifted back from the screen to tug off his uniform shirt. “I think something else was going on. That she wanted to call me to speak to me, specifically, and just made up a reason.”

“Jim, I am on duty,” Spock began in warning.

“I’m not giving you a strip tease,” Jim laughed, “I just got off duty and want to be comfortable. Who knew that me revealing my Starfleet-issued turtleneck would get you hot and bothered?”

“James,” Spock warned again, Jim could see the Vulcan move to take their conversation to a more private place.

“Are you friends with La’An?” Jim asked.

Spock opened his mouth and closed it, brows furrowed once again. Apparently, Jim was asking a far too difficult a question. “Yes,” he answered slowly. “I believe she would consider us friends, though we are not particularly close.”

“Well, to me, I think she lost someone she cared a lot about,” Jim sighed and leaned towards the small viewscreen. “So, if you’re her friend, maybe try to reach out to her.”

“I—,” the Vulcan paused and looked down for a moment. Jim could tell he was centering himself, reflecting perhaps on his relationship with La’An. “I will speak with those I am close to who are closer to her. Perhaps she will find comfort in them. I cannot provide for those grieving.”

Jim released another sigh, not of disappointment, but of understanding. Spock often sat on a fence where he saw himself as too emotional, but not emotional enough. Unable to convey the appropriate message needed to support a friend, lover, coworker, or any other in need. Likely, Spock would go to Nurse Chapel, who would go to La’An. Which, in the long run, was probably for the best. There was no reason for La’An to suspect Jim spoke with Spock rather than his brother. And not speaking to his brother might earn Sam brownie points for not negging her about Jim receiving a call. Of course, Sam wouldn’t know that’s why he was getting on La’An’s good side (if he needed to), but it would probably work in his favor.

“I understand your hesitation, but I think you can be compassionate when you’re given time to think and prepare. Maybe,” Jim shrugged and gave a teasing smile, “you’ll be able to hear someone’s trauma and react appropriately.”

“I do not appreciate that jest, Jim.”

Jim shrugged again, “I think I’m allowed to still tease you about it. Anyway, I hope she’s okay and that you can find a way to check in on her.”

“You are allowed,” Spock confirmed somewhat bitterly. Jim watched the way his face relaxed, his eyebrows raised slightly, and his eyes crinkled at the outer edges; he was humoring Jim. “Is there anything else you wish to speak about?”

“Do you still want a strip tease? I can see you’re in private now.”

“Spock out.”

The omega laughed and leaned back in his seat with arms folded, “Coward.”

In the darkness of the ship, Jim could not get a good read on La’An or her emotions, and she had serious control over what she allowed her pheromones to let slip out.

La’An spoke up again, “If you haven’t seen Ramon, then—”

“He must have found a hole to hide in,” Jim finished.

Chris gave the command for everyone to double back, but La’An did not immediately follow. She lingered, scenting the air curiously, and Jim caught a whiff of that grief and loss he saw on the call. As well as unmistakable lust. Immediately, Jim turned himself back around to go back the way he came because he did not have the time to figure La’An out. Nor could he process smelling a lusty alpha so close to his heat.

There was an emergency, and Jim was pretty sure that the next time he came into direct contact with Spock, he would go right into heat. The Vulcan was on the bridge, which meant that Jim had as much time as this emergency took and no longer unless it escalated, and Spock was called to help sus out Ramon. Either way, La’An would be a situation to consider when he was not so easily influenced by alpha pheromones. In the middle of his musings, thankfully, Uhura called for his help, and he was obliged.

Jim stood outside the medical bay while Uhura and Chris Pike spoke about Ramon and her parallel situation in private. Luckily for them, the omega was not keen on accidentally seeing Nurse Chapel, afraid she would take him off duty if she caught how close to heat he was. The omega hated not seeing a resolution to a situation he had involved himself in because of his nature. But he continued to wait for Uhura because she still needed support, and the Captain could not be there for her like Jim could. To distract himself, Jim had become engrossed in reading health records, communication scans, and scientific scans of the Nebula, so much so that the omega had not noticed when someone walked up to speak to him.

“James Kirk, Sam’s brother,” La’An spoke as she stood at attention in front of him.

“La’An Noonien-Singh, stickler for orderly security records,” Jim smiled as he dropped his arms by his sides.

Though unexpected, Jim saw an opportunity to try to unwrap the mystery that was the Chief Security Officer of the USS Enterprise.

“Were you injured?” she asked with genuine concern.

A trait Jim appreciated in a security officer, but knew the question held more weight than just a friendly check-in.

“Oh, no. I am just—uh—waiting for Ensign Uhura,” Jim said.

He glanced around the corner to check that no one was coming around. Not just to ensure that he didn’t run into someone he didn’t want to catch him, but it paid to be vigilant while potentially gossiping.

La’An seemed to sober up whatever flirtatious loose posture she had begun to have. “Oh, right, I didn’t know you were friends.”

“We just met,” Jim clarified. “I just happened to be there when she needed some help. Although she seems the type who has trouble asking anyone for help, especially her friends.”

Then, her posture relaxed and gave Jim knowing eyes. La’An replied, “And you’re the type who can’t walk past a stranger in need.”

Chapter Text

“Could’ve just let me wear the watch,” James hummed playfully.

“Oh, that again,” La’An snorted.

“It’s an omega’s watch,” James insisted. He had a point. The watch band was a soft black leather, wider than a traditional “alpha's” watch, without losing a delicate edge. It was decorated with crystal inset around the mother-of-pearl face, tiny phosphor-painted gold numbers reminding her that they were here on a mission, and to look past its beauty to the task at hand.

La’An smiled up at him. “You just want to be in charge! How about this,” She paused and slipped her hand into James’s larger one, “if you’re good for me tonight, I’ll give it to you as a gift.”

Jim’s scent sweetened, and the scent of wood deepened with it. He squeezed her hand tightly, having been rendered speechless by how forward she had suddenly been. Or so she had assumed. She was used to being all business most of the time, and she rarely recognized when her affections were being returned. They continued their walk in silence for a moment longer before La’An felt the desire to speak up again.

“You know, if I was in your position, I don’t know that I would have gone along with this. And I don’t think I could have gotten this far without you.”

“You definitely would have frozen to death on the first night, and starved, that hot dog saved your life,” James teased as they bumped shoulders. “Truth is, if we can only save one timeline, I’d rather live in yours. I know that’s not how it works—”

“But, what if you could?” La’An interrupted, feeling the sudden urge to take a leap she never would in any other circumstance with any other person. “Come to my time?”

“I’m not sure one timeline is big enough for two of me.”

“I’m serious, I brought you here, maybe the device could take us both back.” La’An found James had difficulty meeting her eyes, and she found she had the same problem. “People are usually difficult for me. There’s always been a barrier, and it can get lonely. But you…you see me.”

“So, you’re saying you took my pillow talk to heart?” James interrupted because La’An was sure the man could not be serious for more than thirty seconds.

“I’m not, not saying that,” La’An sighed and looked to the sky to find peace.

There was a hand that snaked around her neck and cupped the back of her head as James entered her space more closely. “So, I’m special?”

“Yes,” then, “No,” La’An took in a breath and ignored the fingers on the fastenings of her muzzle. “Both, I guess. Look, I’ve been carrying something around in my heritage for a long time.”

“A line of axe murderers?” He asked.

Two gentle hands pulled her muzzle down from her nose and mouth, but still she pressed on. “No, we never use axes. Truth is—”

Lips were on hers, and they were just so gentle and perfect. They pulled away for just a second and then found themselves kissing again. Careful because they were certainly breaking laws by having La’An temporarily unmuzzled just so they could kiss each other. Reflecting on the potential of bringing James back with her to the right timeline. One where Sam Kirk was alive and well, one that allowed her to have a family full of Jim Kirk’s kids running around on a starship. A family La’An thought she’d never be allowed to have because of her heritage, because of the defenses she had built so well for herself. Swirling images of a faux future disappeared as quickly as the kiss had ended, so James could bring their focus back to the mission at hand. There was a time restriction; they had to focus.

Jim gave a quiet laugh of disbelief and grabbed the PADD with both hands to build a personal wall before someone else could see through him and break it down. The omega could not allow another alpha to just penetrate him and take seize of his being. There was a pattern Jim appeared to be destined to experience, and somehow La’An fit into that pattern. Not to mention that it really, truly, felt like she knew him, and he hated being on uneven ground with someone. And her personal knowledge obviously did not come from Sam or Spock.

“What?” she asked with more sincerity than Jim wanted or could manage to listen to in his hyper-emotional state.

“My dad was in Starfleet. My mom, my brother, and I spent my whole childhood chasing him from one post to another, barely seeing him.” Jim sighed because if she was going to act as though she knew him, he supposed he’d indulge her. It might pay off for him in the end. “When I’d ask why, my mom would say that he’s helping people who really need it. But when you’re a kid, you think—”

“Why does he care more about strangers than he does about me?” La’An answered. She was clearly moved by his openness or by some sentiment within his admission she could relate to.

“So, you tell yourself, if my dad chose helping total strangers over me, it must be important,” Jim sighed longingly.

“As one of those strangers that Starfleet helped, I promise you, it is,” La’An assured. It was not the reassurance Jim needed, but he appreciated her sincerity and openness, nevertheless. Then, before he could accomplish his goal of finding out more about this mysterious La’An Noonien-Singh, she said, “I should finish my rounds. Good evening, Lieutenant.”

Jim gave a nod and watched her retreat; however, he was not willing to let her have the last word and piped up with, “I haven’t forgotten that drink you owe me, by the way.”

With the mission over and the two-ship fleet on its way out of the Nebula’s space, Jim ended his night with Uhura at the bar. A twentieth-century jazz instrumental of a song covered by many artists of that era, titled 'Til' There Was You', filled the air. Somehow, Jim had yet to see Spock, and he was almost thankful for that because he had hoped to find closure with Uhura. A lot of emotional camaraderie had been shared between them, and Jim would have hated to disappear without proper closure. Especially because he was sure, if that happened, she would probably hold a grudge against him for it. Uhura had brought with her a picture of her family, after sharing with him a video of the ship’s deceased Chief Engineer, Hemmer, earlier during their battle against hallucinations caused by the Nebula.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to look at that,” Uhura laughed, one filled with sadness and love in equal measure.

Jim was more than appreciative that she had shared her memories with him because he knew when the time eventually came, he would have a friend on the USS Enterprise to turn to when he needed the same support.

Lifting his glass, he said, “To staying in the fight.”

After they cheered, Uhura set her PADD down on the table. “Why do you think they chose me?”

Without missing a beat, Jim answered easily, “You were exactly what they needed. Thoughtful, empathetic. You heard them.”

Uhura’s shy smugness came out as she replied, “Well, maybe all it took was a good listener.” Her affectionate words were not just about the new life forms, and Jim felt a warmth in her subtle friendship.

Sam walked up without concern that he might be interrupting a private conversation and said, “Well, I’m glad to see that everything worked out for the best. And I think I’m going to write a paper about our deuterium friends.”

Uhura raised her glass in support while Jim felt mild irritation bubble as he lifted his glass to his lips and muttered, “Oh, wow. Sounds thrilling.”

Though he had set aside his frustration with his brother to help Uhura, now there was no emergency and no reason to compartmentalize how he felt. (Maybe it was also his pre-heat that caused him to act out, but Jim would prefer to continue to ignore the dangerous edge he had been walking on since his arrival on the USS Enterprise.)

“I’ve been wanting to say,” Sam's voice was tense. As if they were children again, and he had been chastised by their mother and forced to compliment Jim. “The Farragut is lucky to have you, Jim. I’m proud of you, honestly.”

Towards the end, it seemed as though Sam was surprised by his own sincerity. And so, Jim felt his anger begin to melt away.

“Thanks, Sam!”

But then Sam gave him crazy eyebrows and eyes as if he wanted Jim to say something back, except Jim had nothing to say back to Sam at all. In fact, Jim was not the mind reader that Sam had for all their lives expected Jim to some how be.

“What is happening right now?” Uhura cut through the tension with playfulness.

Sam’s face turned into a full-on expectant stare, glaring at Jim now for a mysterious reason.

“I’m not sure, either?” Jim replied.

“You’re seriously not going to apologize?” Sam huffed out finally.

“For what? Being extremely competent?” Jim snapped back because of course, it was about his promotion again.

“For being a st—” Sam took a deep breath as his eyes wandered to Uhura, remembering that there was an audience. “You know what? Forget it. Go have your fun on your stupid little ship. I’m gonna be here, on the flagship!”

The man finished his drink and dropped his glass on their table before he stomped away. Sam was drunk. Which made a little more sense for his openly abrasive behavior in front of a coworker and friend. Jim scoffed and fell into a chuckle of disbelief.

“Well, that was something,” Uhura breathed.

“Yeah, it’s just Sam being Sam,” Jim sighed as he tried to play off his brother’s behavior. “Sometimes he can be uh—”

“Frustrating,” a deep baritone voice finished.

An arm reached across the table to collect Sam’s cup. Jim followed the length of the arm up to look upon Spock’s face. The Vulcan stood at their table and cleared the glass Sam had left.

“James, meet our Chief Science Officer, Mr. Spock,” Uhura introduced. “Spock, meet James Kirk, First Officer of the Farragut.”

Jim smiled up at Spock and could see the Vulcan’s eyes shine with the same glittering amusement in return. He stood and reached his hand out as he always did when they would break their distance. The omega had decided not to correct Uhura because there was no point; she would figure out who they were to each other in a short matter of time. Jim honestly did not expect Spock to give him his hand back, Vulcans did not shake hands, and Jim was technically committing a cultural faux pas. But then Spock’s hand clasped around Jim’s forearm, his hand around Spock’s, and their wrists pressed together discreetly.

“Why don’t you join us?” Jim asked as he held onto Spock’s arm.

The omega knew any illusion of simple introductions crumbled as the seconds ticked on, their wrists firmly clasped, but he could not bring himself to let go. Spock asked for permission from Uhura, which she gave easily, thus prompting the men to release their hold on each other. The Vulcan sat beside Jim in the open chair between Uhura and him and shifted slightly, so he was perched closer to the omega than the beta. Jim almost refused to acknowledge the irony of the romantic jazz song that continued to fill the space. The omega knew if he and Spock were closer and more open about their relationship, he might have been inclined to ask the Vulcan for a dance.

“This is a recent promotion, then, Lieutenant Kirk?” Spock asked once they were settled.

“Well, it’s not official yet, I have a few more steps to do, but, yes, in another three months or so,” Jim trailed off, pleased.

“The Farragut doesn’t have a First Officer, so I’d say you’re the ship’s XO,” Uhura insisted. “Considering they sent you over here, not anyone else.”

“That is a keen assessment, Nyota, one I would agree with,” Spock replied.

Jim pursed his lips because he could argue that Sam was on the ship, so Jim was better suited to be a delegate from the USS Farragut. He also wanted to ask Spock when he had become so willing to work within a grey area. But Jim also wanted to keep playing the game of pretending he didn’t know Spock as well as he did in front of Uhura.

“Didn’t think you were so humble, Kirk,” Uhura teased.

“Oh, no, I’m not humble,” Jim placated, “but it really isn’t official yet, and I’d hate to get anyone’s hopes up about me breaking a record.”

“It is an assured promotion and a guarantee that you will break the record,” Spock spoke with finality.

Jim leaned forward on the table just to admire Spock’s face for a moment before he turned his eyes back to Uhura, who carefully watched them. The table was small, so it was not as though they could hide anything if they wanted to give each other sneaky physical affection. But the omega could see what she might, their bodies turned towards each other, the way Jim’s and Spock’s eyes roamed the other’s body. Spock was most certainly a difficult individual to become fast friends with for humans. Well, for anyone but Jim. He was excellent at making friends with people who had the biggest barriers up. Maybe that’s what Uhura saw. Or, she had a keen sense of smell, in which case, the game was up.

“I’m going to get us all more drinks, play nice, Kirk,” Uhura spoke up almost suddenly and disappeared with their empty glasses.

Spock turned towards Jim, their knees pressed between each others, and the Vulcan leaned forward just enough to slip his hand up Jim’s thigh while he scented the omega.

“Do you regret not going for that strip tease a month and a half ago?” Jim asked.

Spock hummed thoughtfully. “I do, however, I am more concerned about your impending heat and why you did not alert me.”

Jim tsked and sighed. He pressed his cheek to his fist with his elbow propped up on the table and leaned in such a way that exposed more of his neck to Spock. The man’s free hand also rested on the table, fingers tapped a pattern right next to the Vulcan’s exposed wrist. Spock had boxed Jim in as if to prevent the omega from escaping the situation, and anyone who did not know they were involved (which was everyone) would likely have been concerned about an omega being cornered by a seemingly unfamiliar alpha. Luckily, Spock had the benefit of being Vulcan, and thus most people never suspected Vulcans were up to any nefarious act, especially against an omega.

“Because the arrangements had been made, I assumed you would catch on when the mission was given to you,” Jim answered.

His fingers poked at Spock’s wrist as Jim sought comforting contact through skin. The Vulcan continued to gently rub the lower aspect of his thigh as discreetly as he could manage.

“Also, I am not sure of the best times to call you—”

“And you do not want to send a message because you fear they will be read,” Spock filled in the rest. “I do not see the point in pretending we are not what we are.”

Jim scoffed, “Of course you don’t. You don’t face even what human alphas go through, let alone omegas.”

The omega dropped his hand from his face and tried to pull away so he could stand, but Spock pinned his wrist on the table to hold him in place. Jim could easily get out of it, but with his heat only in a few hours’ time, thanks to the proximity he had with Spock, he remained. Desired the closeness he could have outside the throes of heat.

“I apologize, you are correct in that I do not understand the social pressures you are faced with. However, the Admiralty, medical staff, and the respective Captains and First Officers of our ships know, and still, you are to be promoted. You and I are given loopholes to continue to work on separate ships without detriment to our careers. I believe our crews and friends will not judge nor think small of us. Of you.”

“Are you drunk off my pheromones or something? I don’t remember you being so emotionally intelligent,” Jim teased.

The omega flushed from Spock’s sincerity and leaned in closer. How much Jim wished to kiss the Vulcan, but there were boundaries to maintain.

Spock pulled away entirely as he replied. “Many aspects of my life have changed, pressures have been removed, and I am testing the bounds of myself. I will explain more of what I mean after your heat.”

“I thought I smelled something,” Uhura chirped as she set drinks down. “Should you be drinking if you’re about to go into heat? And shouldn’t you be on the Farragut with your alpha?”

“You’re maybe right about the drinking part, but I’m on the correct ship to take care of my heat, I assure you,” Jim replied as kindly as he could.

“I was led to believe that topic was still a private and taboo conversation topic,” Spock asked with a raised brow.

Jim snorted, “It’s a private and taboo topic on a first date, in public, with a strange alpha I’ve never met before. Nyota, while maybe not her place, is just trying to make sure I’m not pushing the limits or risking my health.”

“So, you two are…” Uhura trailed off as her eyes widened. “What the hell did you ask on the first arranged date, Spock?”

The omega barked out a laugh when he saw the Vulcan’s eyes widen slightly from the shock of Uhura chastising him while she also sought to extract information.

“And you!” She jabbed a finger towards Jim.

“What did I do?” he gasped and held his hands up in surrender.

“You let me just introduce you two and let me believe you didn’t know each other?” Uhura huffed.

“I thought you would have figured it out when we did a scent exchange right in front of you,” Jim said with a teasing smile, “I mean, have you ever seen Spock shake hands?”

“Not with another human, I suppose,” Uhura hummed.

“Oh, Spock, are you out here kissing other aliens?” Jim acted faux scandalized.

“Of course. You and I maintain a professional relationship, and my relationship with Christine is, apparently, far more open than I was led to believe,” Spock replied matter-of-factly.

“A professional relationship?” Uhura asked, “Like Una and Chris?”

“Exactly,” Jim answered.

“Not exactly,” Spock replied simultaneously.

Uhura laughed, “Definitely not exactly.”

“Oh please,” Jim rolled his eyes. “Those two flirt all the time, and I haven’t been on this ship more than twelve hours.”

“There is no way,” Uhura denied, laughing more.

“You’ll start seeing it now that I’ve pointed it out. Duos can only be so professional. And when you’ve met a perfect match that professionalism line gets blurred,” Jim shrugged.

“You are implying our professional line has been blurred,” Spock interjected.

Jim shrugged, “You tell me.”

“We have scarcely communicated since our departure from Earth.”

“I would say that isn’t even a professional relationship, just avoidant,” Uhura spoke thoughtfully. “Hey, why are you two allowed to be separated anyway?”

“Because we’re special,” Jim teased and winked at Spock.

“No, what’s the real reason?” Uhura rolled her eyes and looked to Spock for the truth.

“Because Lieutenant Kirk is special,” Spock answered with a flat look.

“I knew he was funny, but his humor is normally so dry. Whatever this is, is…”

“Special?” Jim laughed, and Nyota easily joined in. The omega thought he might have heard a noise akin to a chuckle from Spock and gave him a little nod once he had sobered up from his laughter. “I should get going. Preparations to make, clothes to steal, nurses to warn. Watch out for my brother Spock, as you saw, he’s on the warpath.” He stood and squeezed Spock’s shoulder as he walked past.

“Should I not come with you?” Spock asked.

“You know I hate being watched when I have to build, as long as you show up in the next two or three hours, I think it’ll all go smoothly,” Jim assured.

Smoothly, it did not go. Jim had barely made it to the residential level where his guest quarters were located when his heat came on with almost no warning. The omega thought he had hours when, apparently, he had minutes. Jim clung to the wall as he walked, his hand fumbling with the communicator at his hip until he dropped it. When he looked down to pick the device up, vertigo claimed him, and he collapsed. By the time he hit the floor, he had entirely blacked out. The halls weren’t entirely dead, thankfully, and a crew member made it to Jim’s side to call security and medical. There was no Enterprise-specified identification on him, so the individual called in a collapsed omega in heat.

Only a few moments had passed before the next person who walked down the hall’s feet picked up in a rush until they slid to the ground by Jim’s side. Gently, the individual rolled Jim over to his back to ensure he was breathing properly and nothing had broken.

“What happened?” the newcomer asked.

“He just collapsed, I think he’s in heat. Shouldn’t you stay away from an unmated omega?” Jim’s first savior had asked.

“He’s my brother, so I think I’ll be fine,” Sam replied snottily.

There was no acknowledgment that he was a little inebriated, and people did not widely know that Sam had a brother, or at least did not know what his brother looked like. And it was also extremely unlikely that this stranger even knew who Sam was; there were hundreds of people on the Enterprise. Still, Sam remained hostile; he did not do well in stressful situations. Never before had he been around Jim in heat either, but he knew well enough from his academic studies that siblings became protective over each other when they were in a vulnerable place during their cycles. Despite logically knowing this, he could not calm himself.

“Do you know where his room is then? Probably better to get him out of the hall,” the other replied, quieter.

“Sam?” Jim questioned in delirium, unable to move his body.

“He’s too heavy for me—“

“Not for me,” a feminine voice piped up that jogged over.

“Oh come on La’An, you’re half his size, plus you shouldn’t even be around him, he needs—“

La’An ignored Sam and pushed past the pair that hovered over Jim to pick him up in a firefighter carry. The omega instinctually pushed his nose into the crook of her neck, the scent wasn’t quite right, but satisfactory for what he needed.

“Show me to his quarters, Nurse Chapel is on her way,” La’An commanded while two security personnel trailed behind her.

“Uh, right, okay,” Sam nodded and stood quickly to lead her to his room.

“James,” La’An sighed, “did you know you would be going into heat?”

Jim nodded slowly as he rubbed his cheek against her slim neck. As awkward as it was for an almost six-foot man to be carried by a five-and-a-half-foot woman, it appeared smooth and effortless. Jim’s hands clung to her Starfleet red, clearly trying to pull the fabric away from her skin to get a fuller scent.

“Jim, why are you not on the Farragut if you knew you’d be in heat?” she asked, pressing for more information. “Is that the real reason you were standing outside of medical?”

La’An needed to know who the irresponsible party was for allowing Jim to get this bad. Jim provided no answer, and Sam glanced between them, opening his mouth and closing it a few times as if he had something to say. But he decided to remain quiet by the time they had arrived at Jim’s temporary quarters. Once inside his room, La’An was careful to set Jim down on the untouched bed, but he refused to let her go.

“Alpha,” Jim breathed.

“Jimmy, you gotta let her go,” Sam sighed and moved to the other side of the bed to help her get free. “She isn’t your alpha.”

“It’s fine, he can cling all he wants until Christine gets here,” La’An assured.

“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?” Sam balked.

“I don’t see his duo anywhere, do you? He should be on the appropriate ship, and his duo should have already known this was coming—James should have been put on medical leave,” La’An ranted as she sat on the edge of the bed with Jim clawing at her clothes.

When Christine and M’Benga walked into the omega’s untouched quarters, it was La’An’s quick reflexes and Sam’s much slower ones that caught Jim by the waist and arm, respectively, to prevent him from attacking the new alpha in the room. Though Jim struggled, La’An managed to pin Jim down by his shoulders while Sam pinned an arm and a leg. One leg was left free to kick and Jim growled and yelled whatever epithets his delusional mind came up with.

“I thought you said his heat behavior improved?” M’Benga asked Christine.

“This is normal?” Sam gaped.

“Well, there hasn’t been more than one alpha in a room since I started treating him. I mean Sam doesn’t really count, and La’An is...well her scent appeals to everyone—"

M’Benga interrupted Christine’s rambling, “Have you alerted—“

“Yes,” Christine interrupted back, “he was aware Kirk was going into heat, but, apparently, agreed to leave him to his own devices for a couple of hours.”

“So, he does have an alpha?” La’An asked. Curiously, she sounded disappointed but also relieved. “Why was he not on the Farragut with him?”

“Because his alpha isn’t on the Farragut,” Christine answered coolly as she began to run her tricorder. “His hormones are all out of whack. They weren’t even this bad before he had his duo match.”

“It is likely the time and distance caused considerable disruption, which only became present as a reaction to the sudden appearance of his match only hours before his heat,” M’Benga replied.

“Minutes,” Christine clarified, “apparently they hadn’t come into contact with each other until they met at the bar tonight, which was fifteen minutes ago?”

“Not true,” Sam countered, “he scented him when you were there earlier.”

Christine looked up at Sam and glanced at La’An, realizing her unintentional vagueness was now meant to become intentional through signaling from Sam. “I didn’t see Jim there at the bar earlier. Which means he’s had more than enough hours to progress this far.”

La’An growled in interruption. She sought information to figure out how and why James had been allowed to get to the point of desperate need and vicious behavior. It was her job to keep anyone on the ship safe, which meant people had to be held accountable for someone falling through the cracks. Starfleet was usually a well-oiled machine when it came to omega and alpha cycles. This was unacceptable.

“Who is his—“

“I apologize,” Spock interrupted as he rushed through the door where two security officers stood outside. “I needed to collect some necessary items.”

Of course, James had to go find the flashiest car for them to steal, but in his defense, it was very convenient that the owner had been right there. Even more convenient was the Vulcan nerve pinch he employed on the car owner to knock him out.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” La’An asked in shock.

“Spent six months in a Denobulan prison, my cellmate was a Vulcan,” James began to ramble in excitement from the epinephrine that now fueled his blood. “I can also make Plomeek soup in the toilet!”

Once the pair of them were in the car chasing after their target, La’An asked as casually as she could, “So, the Vulcan cellmate, was it, Captain Spock?”

James’s head turned to her in a sort of double-take before he focused back on the road. “That was quite a guess.”

“Am I wrong?” she asked with deeper interest.

“No."

At a key moment in the future, La’An would reflect on the bridge of the UEF Enterprise, comments about chess, and a conversation about the Denobulan prison. Memories that should have meant nothing but became everything, clues that she had missed while wearing rose-colored glasses. That was probably when she should have built the wall back up that James had so perfectly destroyed. La’An should have shut out James T. Kirk as best as she could because it would become clear he could not be her omega in any timeline. It was a fated connection between James T. Kirk and Spock of Vulcan, and no one would be able to get in the middle of it. It appeared they would always meet, bond in some capacity to one another, and James Kirk would always die too soon.

Still, La’An had ignored the signs to dare hope that she was the one with the fated connection with James T. Kirk. Because if they met in an alternative timeline and were thrown back in time together, La’An felt that she had to believe that she had not constructed some reality entirely within her mind. That the pair of them were truly meant to find each other again. In the future, she would realize that though they had found each other again, she would lose him. Not even to Spock, but to her own overzealousness. These were reflections from the future; however, nothing La’An had yet realized as they chased down the perpetrators of the explosion.

All eyes fell on Spock, and the Vulcan froze at the chaotic scene before him. Jim was violent against those who held him down while Christine and M’Benga ran a swathe of tests. Though once Jim himself had realized everyone had frozen, the omega seized the opportunity to get free of their grasp, and just as he had been about to go for M’Benga’s throat, he caught Spock’s scent and froze as well. The Vulcan set aside the items he had acquired on a small table next to the entry. Spock took a few cautious steps forward and paused. The omega scented the air with curiosity, and before anyone could catch up, he moved again and practically flew off the bed. La’An went to chase after him clearly concerned Jim was about to assault the Chief Science Officer of the USS Enterprise, but M’Benga held her back.

“Omega,” Spock growled in minor disapproval.

Jim ignored the chastisement and pressed himself up against the Vulcan who stood steady like a wall. “My alpha,” Jim whispered as his hands slid up Spock’s chest.

“You did not make me aware that you were in the bar earlier today. As I have scent inhibitors, I could not smell you the way you could me. It is dangerous that you have been working in your condition,” Spock chastised further, though the lesson would not sink in. Jim was too far gone. A hand gently held the middle of Jim’s back firm while the other pushed back the man’s already sweat-soaked caramel hair that had slipped out of place from his struggles. “If you all will excuse us, his current condition is the worst I have seen.”

“I agree,” Christine sighed and waved for everyone to leave.

La’An seemed hesitant while Sam was the first to rush out. Spock’s eyes rose from their steady focus on Jim to track La’An. She was slow to move, but with every meter she walked away from the bed, Spock used the opportunity to usher Jim back towards it.

“Thank you for overseeing him without judgment,” Spock spoke kindly, seemingly aware of her sudden fragility.

“I—of course, he’s just…stressed,” she sighed and ducked her head. “I’ll leave security outside the door in case someone goes rogue.”

“It is appreciated,” Spock acknowledged and gave her a nod.

Once La’An left, only Christine remained. “Next time, we’ll cancel our plans and put him on heat leave immediately.”

“Regretfully, that does appear to be the best course of action if three months separated has left him so disoriented,” Spock swallowed.

“We’ll be monitoring with the computer systems. I left you a tricorder if you can report as often as you can think of it. Otherwise, I or Joseph is a call away,” Christine assured before she too left.

Chapter Text

“Christine,” Spock rasped into the communicator.

“Spock, is everything alright?”

“It has been seven days, and he still has not reached his peak. I may be Vulcan, but even I cannot continue like this. I have forced him to take a physical break for two days per your recommendation, but his behavior and restlessness have grown worse,” Spock rambled, his sentences punctuated by heavy breathing.

“You’re right to worry. We heard back from Dr. McCoy, and he even finds this unusual for Kirk,” Christine replied. “Has he said anything new or different?”

“No, he still begs for a mating bite,” Spock replied quietly to not wake or excite the omega asleep in his lap.

“Have you bitten him anywhere else?”

“Same as I did last time—his inguinal region, his wrists, right below his armpits. I have claimed every aspect but the mate gland,” Spock responded with exasperation.

“Okay, then that’s what we’re left with before a reciprocal mating bond. He’s definitely not going to be happy with you when he’s lucid,” Christine appeared to have a bit of an ironic, humorous tone in her voice.

“I would rather him alive and hate me than dead because I respected his wishes,” Spock muttered humorlessly.

“As long as he doesn’t bite you, the mating bond will dissipate quicker than if he does. They can last six months to a year if it is reciprocal, but one-sided, it’ll last until his next heat. The distance and time between you two may also shorten its longevity as well,” Christine told Spock. “He’ll be mad, but this is the last thing I can think of before a reciprocal mating bond.”

Spock sighed quietly and gently squeezed the omega in his arms. He sat up with Jim’s back pressed against his chest, and his head lolled to one side as he slept peacefully.

“If there is no other choice, thank you, Christine,” the Vulcan murmured before he ended the communication.

The Vulcan pressed his nose into the exposed crook of Jim’s neck and allowed himself to feel the excitement bubble. Focused on the primal urges that had surfaced the moment he had smelled Jim’s scent the first time and pulled them to the front of his mind. It would not be due to be reluctant about what he was about to execute, so he would release a little bit of his control to save his mate. The Vulcan’s lips latched onto the crook of the omega’s neck to suck and lick at the skin right above the gland to wake Jim.

The omega quivered and whined happily at the implications of his alpha’s attentions. Spock did not delay any longer because if Jim was awake, that meant trouble would soon follow unless he was given what he wanted. Without needing to prompt the omega, Jim shifted in their positions so Spock could adjust them until he slid into swollen, dripping heat. He held onto the omega’s waist to keep him in place because, at this point, Spock couldn’t bother with properly fucking his omega. The alpha could only hope that the heat would end once his bite took, and all went well. With another quick swipe of his rough tongue over Jim’s abused trapezius muscle, the omega squirmed more. Enough excitement and awareness had been roused that Spock finally did as he was supposed to and bit down with inhuman force. Sharp Vulcan teeth pierced delicate skin and punctured the gland that released the bonding hormone throughout Jim’s bloodstream.

Spock felt himself orgasm inside Jim’s channel for the first time in several days. The alpha’s knot popped and pulsed while the omega seemed to sob in relief as a dry orgasm rushed through him while his tight cunt milked the Vulcan’s knot. The connection that formed was so close to the fulfillment Spock sought. While the game they typically played had Jim desperate to feel owned, the Vulcan had wanted to know he belonged to Jim. A feeling the Vulcan was sure to ignore once Jim’s heat ended because the omega was not ready for such a commitment, and Spock admittedly was not either. However, even a simple one-way connection made the alpha feel as though he was ready and would give anything for it. But he was unwilling to further compromise Jim’s autonomy and force a two-way bond when he knew a lucid Jim would be furious at the presence of a one-way mate bond.

Every muscle in Jim’s body ached. There was a warm body beside him, but it lay almost impossibly still. Slowly, he managed to open his eyes in the dimly lit room and examine his surroundings with slow, careful movements. Jim himself was propped up in a bed with a catheter in his hand and a nasogastric tube. Hazel eyes followed the tubes to where an IV and a nutrient bag hung. Then his eyes caught sight of a sleeping Nurse Chapel and First Officer Una Chin-Riley, who read quietly on a PADD. Jim shifted minutely and grunted from the pain in his muscles. Then he looked over to the still body beside him, and there lay Spock entirely unconscious. Beside him, Doctor M’Benga scanned his vitals with a serene look.

“Is he alright?” Jim rasped, voice barely able to produce human sounds.

“He will be soon. Spock went into a Vulcan sleeping trance the moment your heat ended,” M’Benga relayed.

“I didn’t mean to be so irresponsible,” Jim continued.

“This—“ M’Benga cut himself off and sighed clearly unsure of what to say.

Jim looked away as shame filled him and chose to focus on the two women in the sitting area of his guest quarters. Nurse Chapel had woken up with a start and appeared to still be collecting her bearings while Commander Chin-Riley stood to make her way to Jim’s side. Though his conversation had been quiet, it appeared the First Officer had waited for Jim, specifically, to wake up.

“Physiological reactions are not your fault,” Una spoke up as she sat perched beside Jim.

“Even if you had been sequestered at the appropriate time, I do not believe the outcome would have been any different,” M’Benga finally said as he picked up the appropriate approach from the omega first officer.

Despite their assurances, the shame Jim felt persisted because neither of them was well. In fact, he and Spock were both doing so badly that they hadn’t been moved to sickbay. Though Spock was not fully awake yet, his hand wandered to find Jim’s limp wrist and fingers loosely wrapped around it. Gently, lithe fingers pushed into the bite on Jim’s wrist, which sparked contentment and comfortable companionship. It was a surprise, the connection he could feel with Spock. The last time he had been claimed at the wrist, he had felt those same emotions, and the connection at the groin had made him lusty for the Vulcan.

But now, there was a newer, deeper emotional connection, an actual tether to the Vulcan beside him. It felt far more tangible than the other bites ever had. So, Jim took stock of his body. There weren’t any severe marks on his own body that he could see, but Spock’s had lingering bite marks and bruising in non-gland locations. It was obvious after Spock touched his wrist that he had been bitten at the gland there, but Jim was not displeased. This had happened before, and Jim had not been controlled through that connection, nor when the groin gland had been bitten. The only gland worth worrying over was the one on his neck.

“I am,” Spock began, then suddenly sat up to cough uncontrollably.

M’Benga was replaced by Nurse Chapel, who gently patted his back and listened to his chest. Once the coughing fit ended, Spock turned to Jim. He appeared neutral but Jim could feel that there was a knot of shame besides his own.

“I am sorry for what I had to do.”

Jim tilted his head slightly, “What did you have to do?”

There was no reason to ask when the omega already knew. It had been easy to identify the emotions that weighed heavier than his own and understand they did not belong to him, but to the alpha he was now tied to. Still, Jim thought he wanted the explanation, that it might loosen the tight knot of emotion in his throat.

“After five days I contacted Christine and was told to mark the glands I had during our shared rut and heat,” Spock began.

Actually, it was too much to hear the explanation. “That’s okay Spock, you don’t need to—"

“No, Jim,” Spock interrupted. “After five you began to grow physically confrontational. Then, we had reached seven days neither of us had sufficient sleep or food or water—"

“Seven days?” Jim squeaked in his roughened voice.

Though he did not wish to hear, now it seemed more important that he listen to what Spock had to say. Despite the weight of the shame he carried for two, Jim had never had a heat last that long before. Regardless of the swirling red of foul emotions towards what Spock had done, Jim needed to know what he had done, how he had forced Spock’s hand. Jim should know better than to allow bitter emotions to influence how he felt about the Vulcan because Spock did what was needed at the risk of his relationship with the omega.

“Jim, focus,” the Vulcan chastised delicately.

“How many days did…?” Jim whispered unable to finish his question.

Spock squeezed Jim’s wrist in an attempt to pull Jim back from his thoughts. “Your heat lasted approximately eight days, three hours, and sixteen minutes. Since the end, it has been another four days, five hours, and twenty minutes. I have been in and out of a sleeping trance as a healing trance was far too dangerous—”

“He didn’t want to leave you alone, so he refused to go to sickbay—” Nurse Chapel interrupted.

“And a Vulcan healing trance is dangerous and disturbing to watch a Vulcan wake from,” M’Benga continued.

“—so I chose to remain by your side,” Spock ended and pulled his hand away from Jim’s wrist. “My point is that, your heat went on too long and I had to—"

“You had no other choice,” Jim slouched and shut his eyes to gather himself better.

The omega remained quiet and weakly reached over to grab Spock’s arm back and squeezed as best as he could to prevent the Vulcan from finishing his story. He felt lucky that Spock understood, but he was a touch telepath, so Jim supposed he should feel lucky Spock had a high psi-rating. And Jim understood what the Vulcan had been getting at. There had been no other option. At least Spock had enough wherewithal to prevent Jim from biting him back.

 “It’d be unfair to get mad at you for doing it to save my life. ‘Cause I’d do the same.”

And that’s probably where the shame really came from. The pair of men remained quiet. Jim avoided Spock’s too-emotive brown eyes while they both had medical scans to add to the data that allowed Nurse Chapel and Dr. M’Benga to track vitals outside of medical bay. It was also probably important to add to the data now that they were both fully conscious. He wondered if his stability after the bite and the end of his heat had been a problem. It would explain why moving him might have been too dangerous.

“When you’re deemed healthy, you can go back to the USS Farragut,” Una spoke up after seemingly growing bored of the quiet.

Jim snorted, “Starfleet will know what happened here.”

“They’ll know what I tell them,” Nurse Chapel argued. “As long as we know the best resolution, this shouldn’t happen again.”

The omega glared down at the hand with the catheter. “How are we supposed to maintain a professional relationship if we have to have this bond sooner than expected?”

Nurse Chapel began to protest, “Well, it’s only one way—"

“When his rut comes next time, how will he stop me from biting him back?” Jim huffed.

“Chris and I maintain an extremely professional relationship and we have a permanent mating bond,” Una spoke up.

“And you share your heats with Chris?” Jim snapped in through the hoarseness.

Spock scoffed, scandalized. “Jim you cannot ask the First Officer—“

“We do share heats and ruts,” Una confirmed. “As you know, I am an Illyrian, but genetic alterations could not remove my omega nature. And traditional medication doesn’t work on me.”

“So, like me, you have to have an entirely different set of boundaries,” Jim mumbled.

“Exactly,” Una confirmed. “And Chris maintains romantic relationships beyond what he and I have.”

Jim’s gaze slowly moved to meet Una’s in understanding, preventing his hazel eyes from darting to Nurse Chapel. “What about you?” Jim asked instead.

Una hummed and patted his thigh. “A conversation for another time. I’m just here to make sure you don’t assault our CMO and don’t die. Next time you’re on the ship, we can talk more. I promise. But for now, I should speak with the Captain so he and I can decide how best to keep your arrangement working.”

“Lieutenant Kirk! Welcome back to the Enterprise,” Una greeted Jim a month later as he materialized on the Enterprise.

“Thank you, Commander,” Jim smiled and saw his welcoming committee was small. “No Sam?” He asked, ‘No Spock?’ He thought. “Thought he'd be here.”

“He's busy,” Una answered. “We'll find him later.”

“Thank you for agreeing to do this. Even if it's not fully necessary,” Jim remembered his manners suddenly as he took a few steps off of the transport platform.

“When I took my commission, I spent a week shadowing Pike. It made all the difference. Hopefully, it'll do the same for you on the Farragut,” Una assured in bright spirits.

“Well, a week is nothing like several months, but I appreciate your willingness, regardless,” Jim added with a dip of his head. Finally, he focused his sights on the obviously anxious alpha that seemed to bounce on her heels. Before Una could introduce the Chief Officer of Security with her grand sweeping gesture, Jim said, “Good to see you again, La'An. You still owe me that drink, if I'm not mistaken.”

Una eyed La’An with a bubbling excitement. Jim now understood why the Illyrian seemed to be in a good mood. La’An was not being herself, and that abnormality was worth some excitement. He would take that as a compliment.

“You know each other?” Una asked with a sly smile.

La’An cleared her throat as she gave a small nod. “Yes, but I still need to do a security clearance.”

Jim and Una shared a brief smile before he focused back on La’An. It was not every day an omega in their high positions saw an alpha COS stumble over themselves because of an omega. Jim wondered what she was like when he wasn’t in the room because he was sure she couldn’t be so shaky and nervous.  

“Lead the way,” Jim motioned with a kind smile.

La’An gave a nod, turned on her heel, and walked one way before doing another 180 to go in the opposite direction, muttering an apology. Jim glanced at Una with some more focused concern, but the woman just shrugged and smiled, allowing them to leave her sight. The omega quickened his pace enough to walk alongside La’An and tried to keep his pheromones to a minimum as he looked around the halls of the ship. She probably had a keener sense of smell like Spock, so Jim would try his best not to assault her senses too much. However, he wondered how hidden his scent was because of the mate bite on his neck.

“Is the security clearance check another cover where you ask me where I was born, but you really want something else?” Jim asked casually.

“What? Uh, no, this—We have to do a real security clearance,” La’An replied seriously and appeared to try to pull herself together based on how her pace slowed a tad.

“Right,” Jim hummed and looked down at the woman with a toothy smile. “So, a thorough pat down then.”

“Lieutenant Kirk—,” La’An warned without malice.

“Call me Jim,” He interrupted.

“Lieutenant Kirk—”

“Jim.”

“James—”

“Oh, I like it when you say my full name. You can keep doing that,” Jim flirted.

La’An huffed, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Jim would call that a win. Once at the security office, La’An bypassed her other officers poised to clear Jim and took him to her private office. Though it shared a wall and a door with the main security office, they were not followed, and there was far more privacy than Jim expected in an office on a starship. The COS moved to sit in her chair behind her desk, and Jim followed her instead of sitting in a guest chair. Rather than be fully upfront about his interest in her, he leaned on the edge of the desk next to her chair.

“There are actually seats for you to sit in,” La’An motioned.

“I’m fine here, but thank you,” Jim teased as he leaned back to prop an arm behind himself with his body turned towards the woman and her computer display. “So, what do you need cleared? I already did the biometrics last time, voice, so on and so forth.”

“Well, last time you were here, a health emergency occurred, and I was left in the dark about where you needed to be and who I should have contacted,” La’An answered seriously. “You were lucky that you were found by a Beta who thought to call medical and me. My security team clearly failed to do their jobs.”

“Oh,” Jim chortled and gave her a smug smile, “you want to know my relationship status.”

“No, I—“

“Sam is my emergency contact. Spock is the alpha that reports to my heat, and I’m the omega that reports to his rut,” Jim explained.

“Just say you’re a duo,” La’An replied with faux annoyance.

“I think we would have to be following the rules more strictly for me to say that—”

“Aren’t you mated?” La’An asked.

Jim pursed his lips. He really did not want to answer, but could see how it was relevant to his documentation, and to pursuing his curiosity with the alpha beside him. It was also relevant for Spock’s security clearances. La’An would not just provide Jim the access he needed to particular parts of the ship, but to particular people and vice versa. And despite how much he hated the weight of being mated, it certainly meant something in the way of security.

“It’s just one way, borne out of a health emergency.”

Jim found himself over-explaining because he did not want to ruin his chances with La’An. Spock had his sort of girlfriend on board, and Jim was extremely intrigued by La’An. He supposed she was owed a little bit of an explanation, even if it was not presently necessary.

“Noted,” La’An replied slowly. Her gaze rose to do a quick sweep of Jim’s form before she focused back on her task. Jim supposed that was another win, progress to get back into her good graces. “You’ve been assigned guest quarters on the same level as all senior crew, and your schedule follows Commander Chin-Riley’s. However, your ship practitioner, Chief Nurse Chapel, wants you to report to her first thing tomorrow,” La’An relayed to Jim. “You will not be cleared for duty until she says so.”

“Understood,” Jim gave a curt nod, displeased, but he did not plan to defy anyone in favor of being able to work. “Anything else, Lieutenant?”

After a quiet moment, La’An asked, “How would you feel about having that drink?”

In La’An’s quarters, Jim sat with a leg tucked under the other, tapping nervously on the floor. A thick hand swirled a liquor that matched the color of his eyes, following the liquid’s smooth movement. After simple chatter, the alpha had left to go get something. The moment alone had been brief enough, but Jim still felt antsy. She sat back down beside him with a small paper box in her small, calloused hands. Jim’s eyes wandered over it with curiosity; he was, at heart, a simple omega. Distracted by the box, La’An had slipped her arm on his shoulder and part of the couch, which gave her fingers enough leverage to stroke the curve of his ear, decorated by Spock while on Earth. The feeling teased Jim to the point he could no longer find control over his pheromones. With her other hand, she fiddled with the folded box before she placed it on Jim’s folded knee, delicately balanced.

“Is this...?” Jim started.  

“A courting gift,” she answered.

“La’An,” Jim found himself breathless, suddenly nervous.

“I’ll leave your silver piercings for Spock to fill in, but I wanted to get you something, so you know that I’ve been thinking about you,” La’An spoke, and her voice wavered.

The alpha’s nerves settled Jim a little, but her confident words did far more. There was no expectation attached to them; in fact, the reason for the gift was far more traditional than any alpha’s offering to him had been before. While Jim practically had Spock on an “IOU” system, La’An was far more advanced in her presentation of courting gifts. Though Spock had never made gift-giving appear to be a chore and he could not fault the Vulcan for not fully grasping the courting concept yet. Jim felt that the former was true for his past partners, and they had no excuse for not understanding the intricacies of romantic courtship. The man shifted to set his glass down on the coffee table before he gently picked up the box. Slowly, he unfolded the top and pulled out a black chain link necklace. The links were delicate, and the black was a mineral Jim had not encountered before, but it felt soft between his fingers.

“Will you put it on me?” Jim asked quietly, stunned.

“Spock won’t mind?” La’An asked but moved when Jim did without necessarily needing the answer to the question.

“He probably will, but he has no leg to stand on,” Jim hummed.

Jim watched the woman intently out of the corner of his eye as she placed the chain around his neck. He turned his head slightly to close their distance and brushed his pierced lips against hers. La’An managed to close the clasp before her hands cupped the back of his head and kept him in place while their lips danced. Jim was not about to fall into bed with her his first night on the Enterprise, nor did it seem like she had that intention either. At another time, Jim would allow himself to process the anxiety he felt about the seriousness that La’An took their meeting and how easily he had jumped in. Curiosity always seemed to get the best of him.

They kissed for a long while, their drinks abandoned. Jim leaned on La’An while she held them both with strength that he admired in such a small body. Eventually, they parted for air, and Jim dropped his head into the crook of her neck to take in her ever-curious scent. La’An gently petted his cropped hair and caressed his hand as she hummed happily to herself.

“I should go,” Jim murmured.

“Big day tomorrow,” La’An confirmed.

“True,” the man replied, “but I should go make sure a certain Vulcan is aware I’m on the ship.”

“Expose yourself just in case you jump-start your cycle early?” La’An predicted.

“I have a feeling that’s why medical wants to see me tomorrow. So, I should go expose myself and hope for the best,” Jim muttered and reluctantly pulled away from La’An.

Spock knew Jim was on board the Enterprise, but had been so caught up in an experiment that he had been unable to free himself to greet Jim appropriately. After many hours had passed, Spock realized he had made no plans with Jim, so to expect him to appear was without logic. Jim had not done so on his previous visit, though he supposed there had been a ship-wide emergency during that time. Despite the lack of logic in anticipating a visit from Jim, Spock knew Jim was close, could feel the omega because of their partial bond. Although it had only been about a month, Spock had no doubts the mating bite would remain until at least Jim’s next heat.

Along with Jim’s presence, he could feel ghosts of excitement and pleasure, which distracted Spock. Those impressions distracted him long enough that he sent himself to his quarters to meditate. For hours, that method of distraction worked well enough until the alpha actually felt his omega approaching. There was no anticipation. How strange it must be for Jim to feel owned but have no awareness of his alpha, while Spock was free and felt everything from his omega. Meditation ceased merely breaths before Jim rang his bell. Spock was on his feet and to his door swiftly before Jim could ring him a second time.

“Jim,” Spock greeted right as the door slid open.

“How’d you know...?” Jim looked up slightly with wide surprised eyes.

The Vulcan stepped aside to allow Jim in and once the door closed answered with a firm grip at the crook of the omega’s neck where his mating bite was. “I felt your approach.”

Jim shivered under the strong hand, and his lips parted. Spock observed as the man’s nostrils flared slowly, taking in Spock’s scent so deeply as if he wanted to drown himself in it. The Vulcan could not do the same as he had chosen to keep his nasal inhibitors functional, despite how he craved to have a taste of Jim’s scent as well. It was simply more logical to maintain the function of nasal inhibitors if he did not have to assist with a heat yet. And while he enjoyed the way Jim smelled, he was the only human that his sensitive senses tolerated, and a starship was compressed with foul human odor.

Thick hands found their way to Spock’s chest, and the Vulcan glanced down before his own found Jim’s slim waist. It had always been incredible to observe how quickly Jim’s weight fluctuated, but it seemed he had not recovered at all from his last heat, where he lost more than the appropriate amount of adipose. Spock would be sure to right that before their next heat-rut.

“Did you plan to remain here for the night?” Spock asked to bring them both back to the moment.

“If you don’t mind?” Jim asked with a nervous smile.

A smile that meant Spock should have been aware of something enough to have already remarked upon it. The likely answer was a note about the omega’s scent that Spock had missed. Unfortunately, Spock could not scent him and would have to rely on Jim’s willingness to convey information.

“I would prefer it,” Spock answered, “though this will be for your benefit rather than mine as my nasal inhibitors have not yet worn off.”

“You knew I was coming,” Jim trailed off with a narrowing of his eyes and suspicion. The man slowly walked backward towards where Spock’s bed was.

“Your scent is the only one I enjoy. Human body odor is still not one I am used to,” Spock admitted, a personal failing in his own opinion.

“Well, seems difficult for us to balance each other pheromonally if you can’t even smell what’s going on,” Jim hummed, lighter and teasing.

The man sat on Spock’s bed and began to remove his boots and the outer layers of his uniform. The Vulcan sat beside him to observe. It had been four months, maybe longer, since Spock had allowed himself to indulge in the visual stimuli that Jim provided. He would no longer deny himself, he decided, as long as his omega allowed him to watch.

“I suppose there is logic in your remark. I will work towards being able to do my duties without a nasal inhibitor,” Spock assured.

He continued his admiration of Jim’s form despite how thin he was. The Vulcan would fix that; Jim would not survive another heat if he remained so thin. Though he was aware that Jim’s cycle would fight against him in the coming weeks, once over the testosterone peak, it would become much easier to get Jim to a healthy weight. Brown eyes continued to watch without hiding, and Jim appeared to enjoy the attention until Spock’s eyes fixated on a chain necklace around the omega’s neck. His eyes narrowed, and his hand reached out to touch the item without an ounce of Vulcan control.

“This is new,” the alpha pointed out.

Jim sucked in a breath and his tanned skin reddened more while his chest heaved from air being held hostage. Spock was not about to allow his omega to get out of an answer by holding his breath too long like an insolent child, so he moved his hand to run the flat knuckle of his finger over and under Jim’s exposed nipple. He flipped the piercing he had gifted the omega up and down, teasing Jim until the man squirmed away.

“Yes,” Jim breathed out. He took in a much steadier breath before adding, “I got it tonight.”

“Another alpha on the Enterprise?” Spock asked.

“Yes, but nothing happened other than some kissing,” Jim blurted, unable to make eye contact.

“So, this is a more serious individual,” the Vulcan guessed.

Jim sighed and gave a slow nod. “Yes, which means I have to have a discussion and explain that nothing serious can happen.”

“Why can nothing serious occur?” Spock wondered; he had assumptions, but he wanted Jim’s thoughts spoken aloud. They would clarify the Vulcan’s contemplations.

“Well, it looks like I have to be mated,” Jim replied. He did not sound disappointed, merely bored by a simple fact. Though true to Jim’s nature, the man threw in a joke to break up the seriousness of their conversation, “And, as you know, I’m loyal to the stars.”

“And these are the only reasons that you do not feel as though you can pursue a serious relationship?” Spock pressed.

Hazel eyes examined the Vulcan’s and the man shifted so he was pressed against Spock’s body so he could bury his nose in the crook of the Vulcan’s neck. The alpha shivered from the sensation, contented with the omega’s blatant desire for his scent and closeness. It seemed unnecessary to press Jim further. The time to sleep was upon them, and as the omega’s hands slipped open Spock’s meditation robe, he realized Jim needed more than just a discussion. Though some may call them both avoidant, Spock understood there was a time and a place for certain dialogues; this was neither the time nor the place.

The Vulcan removed the robe from his body and shifted deeper into the bed, and Jim finished disrobing himself to follow. The pair slipped under the light blankets, and the omega tucked himself into Spock’s side, nose still pressed into the crook of his neck, breathing in and out in a slow rhythm. Spock held Jim close to his body and shut his eyes to enjoy his omega in his arms without worrying about judgment. Jim held none for him.

“I think we should go back to how things were when we were planet-side,” Jim muttered after many long minutes. “At least when we can.”

“That is an arrangement we can continue, though it will certainly be less strict and less often. However, we can and should maintain the arrangement for meals, once you are cleared by medical and we are on the same shift,” Spock answered.

“Meals are perfect,” Jim replied with a breath of relief, “then I don’t have to worry if I’ve got friends to eat with.”

“I am sure Uhura, or the alpha that is courting you, would be pleased to share meals with you,” Spock replied.

Jim shifted with a soft yawn. “I’d rather eat with you”

Spock rumbled in response and stroked his fingers through Jim’s hair. While Jim fell heavily into sleep, the Vulcan reminisced about the first time he fed the omega and the purrs he had received as a reward. Most of their meals would be public, but perhaps he could convince Jim to have a private meal or two a week to try and repeat that experience. However, his mind raced with ideas of how to repeat that experience in public as Spock’s memories reminded him of how humans behaved publicly with their duos. As he fell into his own deep sleep, the Vulcan had settled on a solution.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Spock woke to a warm body beside his own after sleeping the longest he had in months, longer than was typical for a Vulcan. Though Jim had left his arms in the night, the omega still occupied more than his fair share of space as he lay face down and limbs spread. Spock propped himself up on his side to run his fingers down the exposed nobs of Jim’s spine. At least they had reinstituted the dynamic they maintained prior to Spock clearing Jim’s mind of convolutions because it had been mornings like these when Spock felt his desire stir with possessive need.

Long fingers softly brushed further down and followed the curve of the omega’s ass to his thigh. Gently, he cupped the underside of the man’s thigh and raised it so it was folded more comfortably by Jim’s side. He moved his body over the omega without resting too much of his weight on the man so as not to disturb him. Spock’s lips brushed over the mating bite that maintained a strong presence on Jim’s trapezius. Because the omega’s thigh was high enough to expose what Spock aimed for, his fingers slipped back up the furred thigh until he reached the junction that brought the Vulcan to his goal. Gently, Spock’s long fingers pushed through the slick folds. Spock’s dick was lubricated and dripping from anticipation.

Pleased with what he found, the Vulcan guided his cock to the twitching channel and pushed into Jim’s warm and welcoming cunt. Spock sighed contentedly against Jim’s neck. The omega squirmed a little, a soft moan pushed past his lips for the long duration it took for Spock to fully sheath himself. There was a pause in his movement to enjoy how the connection of the partial mate bond and his touch telepathy enhanced being inside his omega. Especially enjoying how Jim’s channel spasmed and tightened. Spock was careful as he rocked in and out of Jim. His hips were slow as he held Jim's folded leg in place to ensure he was not jostled too much. Eventually, a soft mewl of pleasure informed Spock that Jim was awake enough to react in earnest with a push of his hips back to meet each slow thrust inside of his cunt.

“Alpha,” Jim moaned in a rough morning voice.

“Be good omega,” Spock encouraged.

The omega breathed and relaxed fully again, but was still present enough that the Vulcan picked up the pace just a bit. “Take care of me, omega,” Spock whispered into his skin.

“Take what you need,” the omega replied sleepily.

Spock moaned at such an erotic phrase and snapped his hips hard. His pace remained slow, but it was every thrust in that was hurried. As if each drag out was something that pained him too much that he had to sheath his dick as quickly as possible. Each thrust shook pleasure through the omega below and seemed to fill him with desire to reciprocate, beg, and present. As Spock’s thrusts grew more erratic, Jim grew close to his orgasm.

The Vulcan’s hand wandered around and pressed in the space between Jim’s hard, slim body and the bed to slide down his abdomen. A gentle tease to a nipple and its piercing, the same action was given to Jim’s belly piercing until Spock reached the omega’s cocklett. Dexterous fingers gave slow strokes, with a tight hold of Jim’s base and loosening on the upstroke to the tip of his head. It did not take long for Jim to spill into Spock’s hand, given the state he was in. And the desperate clench of the omega’s channel brought Spock over the edge and spilled inside of Jim. The Vulcan muffled his sounds in the crook of Jim’s neck where his mating bite seemed to tingle in response.

After a few moments, simply relishing the desire shared between them, Spock began to pull out slowly. Jim whimpered. “Where—?”

“I need to report to the bridge, Alpha shift begins in fifteen minutes,” Spock whispered against his skin. “I am going to be late.”

Jim’s body heated, and Spock could hear thoughts of want, the desire to beg for Spock to just be a little bit late to his shift. And the desperate want, which had nothing to do with the veritable lust Jim certainly felt, had everything to do with particular emotions of fondness towards Spock. Overwhelming and enticing as they were to taste at the surface, the Vulcan had to pull himself away. If Jim was not ready for such desires to be spoken aloud, Spock would not press Jim, nor would he listen further in. Exhaustion likely influenced Jim’s thoughts, and Spock would not allow himself to read too far into them. The Vulcan fully departed from the bed and took a quick sonic shower before he dressed in his fatigues. When he took one final parting look at his used, naked, and exposed mate, the door chimed. With a curious brow raised, he turned and walked out of his quarters. Spock hoped his movements would be quick and distracting enough that the person on the other side would not see who was in his quarters.

“That was fast,” Christine noted as her gaze remained constant over Spock’s shoulder until the door fully slid shut. While panic rose in the Vulcan, Christine drew her attention back to him, and surprisingly, her lips found his for a soft kiss. “Good morning, you’re going to make us late for our shift.”

Both of Spock’s eyebrows rose, mouth slightly parted to remark, but nothing came out as they began to walk together.

“I told you, we’re undefined, it allows us to do this without everything getting over complicated,” Christine assured.

Spock’s gaze found hers and took a moment to admire her form in the white medical nursing jumpsuit. She did like his attention still if the red of her pale cheeks meant anything.

“You are far better at compartmentalizing relationships than I seem to be,” Spock admitted.

“Well, it’s time that you do because I heard he’s already got people around here riled up,” Christine teased. “And only a select few know he’s mated to you right now.”

“He wears—”

“According to Sam, he has always worn multiple alpha’s gifts, it won’t deter anyone,” Christine hummed. “But that does answer the question of whether or not you’re the jealous type.”

Spock did not deny Christine. He knew he felt jealousy, it was an emotion deeply entrenched in his personality that often went hand in hand with shame and feeling as if he were an impostor. She saw him far too deeply than was comfortable, and though she was an individual with whom he felt comfortable expressing emotion around, he was not entirely ready for someone to see him so transparently. Lost in his thoughts, Spock had not noticed their arrival at the lift until Christine kissed his cheek.

“I’ll make sure to loudly say he’s mated when he comes in, you know nurses are gossips. Have a good shift, Spock,” Christine parted.

Some deep emotion settled within Spock. Another sickly one bubbled up at realizing how possessive he was of his omega. How would he feel once their mating bond had been reciprocated?

“Spock isn’t here,” Sam said the moment he saw Jim walk into the lab and his workspace.

“Well, it’s a good thing I came looking for you,” Jim replied with a smile.

“I have actual work to do, I don’t need your smug face bothering me,” Sam retorted but pulled Jim into a hug despite their combative attitudes.

“Well, your XO wanted us to meet here before she showed me around. I’m sure she thought it would be nice for us to see each other before I become her shadow.”

“If you’re her shadow, does that mean you can give me orders?” Sam asked with suspicion.

Jim moved around the table he’d seen on his previous visit and examined the artifacts. He was sure Sam was a biological xenoanthropologist, but maybe he was thinking of Spock’s sister that he had obsessively read about. Jim sometimes found it a little fantastical how much their lives aligned. Or, alternatively, xenoanthropologists had to morph themselves where the material manifested, and Jim was simply looking for signs of connection. The man had no plans to ask his brother because he was not interested in another lecture about the academic schools of xenoanthropology.

“Would you listen if I did?” Jim asked with a curiously raised brow and a coy smile.  

“Eugh, don’t do that, that’s freaky,” Sam practically gagged, “you look like a smugger version of Spock.”

“Or does Spock look like the Vulcan version of me?” Jim joked.

Sam had been about to say something else when his hand darted up to Jim’s neck and tugged the black chain that peeked out of the collar of his black undershirt. “This is new, and definitely not your style or color.”

Jim pushed his brother’s hand away and huffed as he tried to hide it again. “What’s your point?”

“My point is,” Sam reached out and tugged the ear Spock had filled with piercings of his choosing. “That isn’t from Spock. You’re not dispelling rumors when you do things like this.”

“He and I have a professional relationship,” Jim started.

“Right,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“It is, and you expect me not to find romance somewhere in the middle of all this?” Jim crossed his arms. More than irritated with his brother, tempted to find a clock to check the time.

“I’m sure Spock wouldn’t be opposed,” Sam snorted.

“What would I not be opposed to?” Spock’s deep voice sent an anticipatory shiver down Jim’s spine. The Vulcan found his way to the omega’s side and discreetly ran his hand down Jim’s spine before it was clasped behind his back again.

“Telling Sam that he needs to pick a discipline within his academic pursuits or he’s going to be pulled in too many directions,” Jim lied.

“I have expressed this as a concern before,” Spock admitted.

“You know he’s lying, right?” Sam asked with a deadpanned look.

“Indeed, Jim is not a proficient liar,” Spock teased.

Jim rolled his eyes with a fond smile. “I am waiting for Number One to whisk me away, and then I’ll stop bothering your lab associates.”

“That is the reason I am here. We are to have lunch together and then return to the bridge where Una will give you your assignment.”

Sam released some air as relief littered his features.

“Don’t be so excited to be rid of your baby brother,” Jim joked.

“Baby my ass.”

“Alright, Mr. Spock, lead the way. I believe I’ve tortured my brother enough.”

In the cafeteria, Spock led them to a more solitary corner. Though they had agreed that meals would bring them back to their old dynamic, Jim was not entirely sure it was appropriate to do so in public and during a shift. Spock sat Jim down, collected their meals, and joined him again with their chairs close together. Jim’s back faced the entire room while Spock sat almost shoulder to shoulder but at a slight angle so he could see the rest of the cafeteria. The omega assumed it was to keep an eye on if they were being watched or going to be interrupted.

Jim stared at the meal. Spock had a soup while Jim had an array of fruits and a chicken salad he was a little displeased with. He would have preferred a hardier meal, and he wondered how Spock planned on having him gain weight, because Jim was not an idiot and knew why the Vulcan had readily agreed to meal sharing. Despite his distasteful expression, Spock seemed unfazed as he pushed the sleeve of his uniform up and gently picked up a piece of fruit with his delicate fingers. The omega suddenly received new chemical signals from Spock’s pheromones, and Jim prayed to the stars that no one else was inhaling Spock’s scent. It gave their game away far too easily in public.

“There will be a dinner tonight in Chris’ quarters, you will have a fuller meal then,” Spock informed.

“I don’t think you’ll get away with feeding me here, how do you plan to do it at a dinner party?” Jim asked with a teasing eyebrow raised.

“Pick up your utensil,” Spock calmly commanded. Jim did as he was told. “Get a bite of your salad.” The man complied and focused on getting food onto his fork when a piece of fruit was pressed to his lips. “Eat,” Spock commanded again. And Jim did.

He withheld a shiver of excitement. The Vulcan’s commands were never used with psionic influence at all, yet his body reacted as if he had been commanded with Alpha Voice. Something had to be said for the compatibility the pair of them had because Spock always had Jim eating out of the palm of his hand, literally. Their lunch continued in a similar manner. Jim would feed himself the bland salad, but only because Spock refused to give him a sweet treat and a chance to lick or suck the tips of his fingers if he didn’t between bites. And surprisingly, the meal was filling, and Jim felt energized. He also felt that urge towards the end of their meal to steal a kiss from Spock’s lips, but that was a boundary that only got crossed in the throes of heat and rut. Jim hadn’t crossed that line since they agreed it would make their situation more complicated.

Jim leaned back in his seat with a satisfied sigh, his head dropped back over the edge of the chair so he could allow the full benefits of the small dynamic exchange to settle. Muscles relaxed, his heart rate slowed, his breathing evened out, and, surprising himself, a quiet purr bubbled from his larynx. Spock’s scent changed—Jim read smugness in the spiciness of it—and so he peeked an eye open only to find Spock observing him, with a slight tilt of his lips and a glint in his eye. Smug indeed. Jim would let him have his moment and closed his eye again. Spock would let him know when they would need to return to work.

“So, omegas do purr,” a familiar voice murmured, and the sound of a kiss was exchanged.

The purring stopped. Jim did not change his position.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Kirk, didn’t mean to ruin your mood,” Nurse Chapel sounded truly apologetic at least.

Slowly, the omega brought himself back to an upright position so he could twist and examine the platinum blonde in a tight jumpsuit.

“No,” Spock and Nurse Chapel spoke in unison.

“You have no idea what I was going to say,” Jim laughed.

“I have several ideas,” Nurse Chapel replied.

“Whatever rumors Sam is spreading I’d ignore them,” Jim protested.

“I was more thinking about what an acquaintance of mine, Doctor Carol Marcus, said about you,” she responded.

And while the statement was meant to be teasing, the man’s body seized up as his blood ran cold. His hand moved up and paused on the chain around his neck. Gently pushing on his sternum, a harsh breath was released. It was a terrible method to get himself breathing steadily, but it worked better than not. Jim stood almost dizzily; the chair squeaked obnoxiously as he shoved it out of his way with a little bit too much clumsy strength.

“I’ll see you on the bridge, Mr. Spock,” Jim spoke stiffly before he ducked his head and retreated from the cafeteria without a glance back.

Jim could not begin to believe that his on-staff caring physician was in communication with an ex of his. That his ex had spoken about him. Said something salacious about him. That Nurse Chapel believed it and took it as a valid opinion. It was not as though his chart had specified the alpha that had coerced him into a pregnancy. Or that he had been coerced. The omega’s mind ran thousands of lightyears a second as he stumbled through the halls entirely disassociated from reality, unable to pay attention to where he went, or who saw him in his disoriented state. Jim entered a turbo lift on autopilot, intending to go to work, and barely gave notice to the person who followed him inside. With his back pressed to the cold wall, he slid down to the floor by the time the doors had closed. By his side, the stranger knelt beside him to soothingly rub his shoulder and grip his clammy hand.

“James,” the stranger whispered.

“La’An,” Jim replied once he could focus enough.

“What happened?”

Jim shook his head, “It’s not important.”

“It’s important enough for you to be having a panic attack,” she protested in a low and calm tone.

“I’m not having—” Jim shut himself down.

La’An’s voice brought him back to his body and he was soon able to recognize that he was, in fact, having a panic attack. That La’An not only soothed him with her gentle coaxing, but her scent. His mate bite burned a little in protest, but because of her augmented heritage, the scent posed no real threat, and the burning soon dissipated. Once his breath had evened out, Jim gripped her hand firmly, and she cupped his elbow to help bring the omega back to his feet. La’An was insanely strong, given how small she was compared to him, and was reminded of that fact while she remained steady under his wobbling weight. The three alphas Jim had spent his time with over the years had been as tall, if not taller than him, and it was attractive to find a small alpha who cared little that his height and size had him tower over her. Not that Spock nor Finney seemed to care about that really, but it put Jim at ease and inspired feelings of control over himself despite knowing La’An was undoubtably stronger than him.

“How much of a disturbance did I make for you to follow me?” Jim asked with a derisive snort.

“None at all, I just sort of…knew,” La’An shrugged. “Your face and posture were big factors, but I couldn’t scent you at all, and I knew that meant something serious had happened. But if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

Jim gave a nod of understanding. Knowing his tells was good information. It meant he could work on hiding that sort of panic better. Though he supposed that keeping him in a comfortable area in a stressful moment was Spock’s job. Certainly not La’An’s. He smoothed the chain he clung to and worked to hide it back in his shirts. It was refreshing for Spock not to care about the evidence of another Alpha’s interest. Though Jim wondered if the Vulcan did actually care, given he had not been bothered enough to think if Jim would be disturbed by another woman kissing Spock while Jim had been in a vulnerable position.

“Maybe I’ll share another day,” Jim finally answered after he cleared his throat.

“To the Bridge?” She asked, all business again.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and forgot Iowan manners were not appropriate for a ship. “Sir,” Jim corrected after clearing his throat again.

La’An simply laughed and commanded the lift to take them to the appropriate level.

Upon their arrival, Una was kind enough not to question La’An’s presence by his side rather than Spock’s. The woman was also quick to introduce Jim to the bridge crew; of course, he knew Chris and Uhura, but the rest were unfamiliar. Though it appeared they had done their research after his previous visit. Whether their research was done through Sam or someone else remained to be seen. Despite the possibility that their first impressions had been tainted by someone else’s opinion, Jim focused on preserving a professional front. After introductions, the XO went over their station and its duties, the mechanisms that were upgrades compared to the Farragut. When the bridge lift doors opened and Jim lifted his head slightly to take in the scent that followed Spock’s arrival, the omega had been unable to help himself. Hazel eyes wandered away from the station and peered over his shoulder at Spock who appeared frozen in surprise that Jim had made it to the bridge on his own.

“Why don’t we do that tour?” Una asked to interrupt the strange, silent exchange.

Jim’s attention snapped back to the First Officer, and he gave a curt nod. “That sounds good.” He had become a little familiar with the ship during his last visit and had memorized the layout and schematics, but that was not the same as learning the feel of the flagship.

Una squeezed his shoulder, and together they left the bridge. Leaving the distraction that was Spock behind. She started by pointing out different rooms and areas of interest. After some time, when Jim was told all the important rooms for work and recreation, the pair paused in front of slim doors that were unfamiliar to Jim’s memory. The Farragut definitely did not have these kinds of accommodations on it.

“Have you had a chance to build a nest?” Una asked quietly.

Jim blinked in shock and shook his head. “No, not yet.”

“Then come with me in here, it’s a room for us. Kind of like a sauna, but with pheromones,” Una smiled as she led him inside.

The first room they entered had cubbies for uniforms and personal items as well as robes to wear instead. It was a method to preserve the scents on the clothes without contaminating the space beyond the first room. Jim remained a silent observer as he dressed down and pulled on a robe, a perfect soft texture. Indulging himself a little, the man lifted the collar of the robe and rubbed his cheek on it with a pleased hum. Una could be heard chortling behind him; it seemed she had caught him in an entirely predictable act, and she looked pleased. Not smug the way Jim or Spock would be when proven right, it was the simple delight friends felt in their companion’s joys. He certainly had a lot to learn from this woman.

“Are you ready?” She asked, her hand hovered over the button that would reveal the next room.

“I am. The Farragut doesn’t have anything like this,” Jim remarked passively as he followed her into the room.

Una had not exaggerated when she spoke of a sauna, but with pheromones. There were other omegas present, lounging at various levels of the multi-tiered benches. Una forced Jim to decide where to sit, so he placed himself on the floor, closest to the pheromone dispenser, and settled into the comfort of his robe.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but I think it would help if you did talk to someone about it,” Una spoke up after a while.

They weren’t alone, but even after a few cycles of breath, Jim felt good enough that there was no fear if the other omegas listened in. In all honesty, he hadn’t been around this many omegas since his orientation at the academy. Jim focused his half-lidded gaze on Una, assessing the woman for a long moment before he dropped his head back on the bench he leaned against.

“So, I remember asking you if you had romantic relationships,” Jim deflected with purpose.

“Right, I did say I would give you an answer, didn’t I?”

Jim merely hummed in agreement.

Una folded her hands in her lap and mimicked Jim’s posture a little. “It’s difficult not to have feelings for someone you have perfect compatibility with. Before my trial, we weren’t bonded, but when the trial came, Chris looked for any solution that might force Starfleet’s hand to allow me to stay. I didn’t want to, but…”

“You already had feelings for him, and your lives were already tied together?”

“Exactly, it was easy to give him that. Like you, I’ve been solely focused on my career, and romance has always been on the back burner. But I’m not sure anyone would actually compare to Chris.”

“I understand,” Jim sighed forlornly. “It’s not that I’m necessarily not ready, but my career comes first, and he probably will want something else eventually.”

“That’s a cop out, isn’t it?” Una poked him. “Not being ready is fine, but to say you are married to the stars is a line from a man scared of feeling his own emotions.”

Dinner in Pike’s quarters was a sit-down meal with the crew Jim was likely to work closely with, so all senior staff and those who were mentees of senior staff. Captain Pike and Spock had cooked the meal. Jim finally understood where his cooking skills came from, but controlled himself enough not to mention it. However, whoever had helped plan the dinner was a fan of drama because they placed Jim between Spock and La’An. Spock also sat beside Nurse Chapel, who sat next to Lieutenant Erica Ortegas, the pilot of the Enterprise. At one end of the table was Ensign Uhura, and at the other was Chief Engineer Pelia. Across from Jim was Una, Pike across from Spock, and Sam and Dr. M’Benga, as well as a few others, filled in other seats. One stranger named Mitchell and another Kyle, and some Jim had not become acquainted with yet at all. Though he was sure he would learn quickly.

Throughout the meal, Spock and Pike served each dish, notably plating Jim and Una as well as their own servings last. Una and Jim seemed to watch one another for the other’s reaction. Jim had hoped to take a cue from Una, while Una wanted to dissect Jim’s every move since their conversation. Throughout the meal, Spock had been extremely touchy. Long, delicate fingers would run down Jim’s back or suggest he take a bite of one thing or another, just short of feeding the omega himself. Meanwhile, La’An had a hand on his thigh, squeezing and stroking. Whispering that she had another gift for him when he had the time to spend with her. Of course, none of their behavior went unnoticed. And while Sam was glaring daggers at him, everyone else just seemed amused by the entertainment. However, Jim could not see Nurse Chapel, so he had no clue how she felt about the whole situation he had been unwillingly placed into.

Luckily, the meal shifted into the group just mingling around, eating amuse-bouche of small desserts. Spock was stuck cleaning with Chris, and La’An was distracted by Una and M’Benga, which allowed Jim time to breathe without two alphas vying for his attention. Though he could still smell them, they weren’t in his skin (well, he supposed Spock was, but in an entirely different way). Pressed against the wall, Jim stared through the window to watch the stars slowly drift around the ship that moved at impulse.

“Next time, I’ll make sure to put myself and someone else between you and those two,” a familiar voice said.

Jim smiled fondly as he turned just enough to invite Nyota into his moment. “The way Sam was looking at me, you’d think I planned it like that.”

“Well, he’s an idiot,” Uhura laughed, “and anyone that isn’t blind like him could see how uncomfortable you were.” The woman offered a plate of small desserts to him. “You don’t have to, but I thought you’d like a taste before there's none left.”

“Oh, thanks,” Jim gave a small nod and took the plate. He had no plans to eat anything else, but he supposed it couldn’t hurt to look. “Definitely was not the most uncomfortable meal I’ve had, but it wouldn’t make my top ten best meals I’ve ever had. Luckily, I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

“Well, still,” Uhura sighed and looked out to the stars. “It’s funny that everyone is so interested in your eating habits.”

“I’m an omega, it happens,” Jim shrugged and raised the plate of food Uhura had brought.

He could see embarrassment deepened the dark tone of her warm brown cheeks as she said, “Touche.” Uhura hummed a moment, clearly thoughtful, so Jim allowed himself a break again from conversation. “It is a weird amount even for an omega, though, right?”

Jim shrugged, “Yes, yeah, probably.”

“At least Sam came to your defense about that during dinner?”

The man shrugged again and gave a weak nod. “He has his moments. Shouldn’t you be talking with people far more interesting than me?”

Nyota laughed, “Please, no one gets me to open up the way I did with you, and they aren’t also interesting.”

“Touche,” Jim laughed and opened himself up to the room more.

Instinct seemed to have taken over Jim because Spock walked up to them right in that moment. Yet, he was still left stunned as he had not realized the clinking of washed dishes had dissipated from the noise of the room.

“Don’t let him bully you too much the rest of the night,” Uhura patted Jim’s arm before she departed.

“You have not yet tried the desserts,” Spock commented as he took Uhura’s place, but notably more in Jim’s space.

“The dinner was very filling,” Jim replied and looked down at the plate rather than into Spock’s eyes.

The Vulcan gently slipped his fingers along Jim’s arm closest to the window, finding his wrist to gently rub and pull his scent from. Jim wanted to hate how quickly that act made him relax and lean against the wall and window for support.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I enjoyed the food,” Jim answered.

“I apologize for the seating arrangements; I had not anticipated that Chris and Una would be so adamant about seating placements.”

“They wanted to have a little fun, I think it’s their right as our mentors,” Jim shrugged and finally met Spock’s eyes.

“It made you uncomfortable, it was not appropriate,” Spock insisted.

“Plenty of stuff makes me uncomfortable, that doesn’t mean you need to check in on me or send Nyota to me with a plate of food.”

The Vulcan flushed green, seemingly shocked that Jim had not fallen for Uhura’s lie. “I apologize again.”

Jim sighed, frustrated with himself, and shut his eyes to catch his breath for a moment. “Don’t apologize, I asked you to help me, and you are being as discreet as you can be given the circumstances.”

The omega reached up and gently held Spock’s cheek, stroking his cheekbone. He wanted to blame their partial bond for his desire to kiss Spock, but he could not because this was a craving that possessed Jim long before any bite had been made on his body. Spock’s skin seemed to return to its natural complexion, and he leaned into Jim’s touch minutely.

“How was Chapel during the dinner?”

“Difficult to decipher,” Spock answered honestly.

“Should you maybe check on her instead of me?” Jim offered, “I’m fine, I promise.”

With that, Spock left to go bother Nurse Chapel, who chatted in close quarters with Ortegas. And before Jim could cycle through his breaths to calm himself down, he heard and smelled La’An as she walked up behind him. So, he turned and was pleased to be given the face of surprise that she had been caught.

“You’re not as quiet as you think when you’ve been drinking,” Jim teased and leaned down to steal a kiss from her lips. It did not shake his want for Spock’s lips, but he enjoyed the open affection he knew he could have with her.

“You’re just kissing up to get that present,” La’An teased.

“Technically, I’m kissing down.”

“James,” La’An chastised with a short, laughing scoff.

“Well, how can I show you I’m not?” Jim asked as he reached to tuck some hair behind her ear, advertising his scent (though he was sure it was not just his scent as Spock had just felt up that same wrist).

“Let me feed you?” She asked with more sincerity than was fair, unfazed with Spock’s scent on him.

It was impressive how unbothered she was. He was sure he was drenched in Spock’s scent because he had not washed himself of his activities from the morning and afternoon. Jim redirected his focus to the plate in his hand. Maybe if he could make a relationship with La’An work, he would be able to forget the yearning he had for Spock. The Vulcan had a fiancée and a situationship; he was entirely unavailable in every sense of the word. And Jim told himself that he was not ready for Spock, and so he also believed he ever would be. Though they were destined to be a great command team, anything more than that felt like a fantasy. Jim forced himself to live in a reality where he could not have everything.

While his head was in the stars, it was there for the stars, not the possibilities those stars provided in the way of romance. It would also be unfair to characterize La’An as a distraction from Spock because he had tangible feelings for her, though he was unsure how they would fully reveal themselves as their relationship developed. But, if they were able to be something long term, it wouldn’t hurt to indulge her wishes, especially if it meant he could take one or two or three things off of Spock’s duties to him. It would be less painful in the long run if Jim could find a suitable partner for his longevity.

“Sure,” Jim said with a soft smile and handed the plate to her.

Chapter Text

La’An was not a terrible choice of companion. In any typical circumstance, Spock would recommend her to anyone who sought someone strong-willed and bodied, beautiful, and wholly empathetic. It seemed that a small interaction months prior had left enough of an impact for Jim to pursue her interests. And La’An appeared serious enough that he sat in a small conference room with her, where privacy was afforded to both of them, to discuss Jim. A sensation inside vexed Spock. A nagging that told him Jim would be displeased that he and La’An were meeting without his knowledge or consent, and without his presence. La’An and Christine had assured Spock this was typical courting practice, especially for a conservative omega like Jim. Still, Spock could feel a slight nausea associated with the situation and knew he would tell Jim that a meeting had occurred, regardless of whether La’An approved of that.

“Do you plan to meet with Sam?” Spock began with curiosity.

“No, why would I?” La’An asked, then, at Spock’s raised brow, laughed. “Right, your rituals are different. As I said, because you are Jim’s alpha, and more importantly, his mate, your permission is required for me to feel comfortable pursuing a deeper relationship.”

“A physical relationship, you mean?” Spock clarified.

Jim had already let on that his and La’An’s relationship had deepened. They spoke of their lives, their time in Starfleet, some of their past relationships, though Jim had specified he avoided much of the more gruesome details. Meaning, La’An knew nothing of why Jim’s heats were problematic, nor the quirks or preferences he had which manifested from them. Spock had to wonder if a physical relationship would cause Jim to provide her with more information or if the omega would keep his cards tightly held. That Jim might leave some aspects of his life for Spock alone to care for. The Vulcan had no qualms with any arrangement Jim wanted beyond the base concern of whether La’An might trigger Jim in some way like Spock, or Christine had in the past.

“Yes,” La’An answered after an indignant purse of her lips.

Not every human was as free in giving away their sexual exploits, La’An appeared to be one of them. At least that meant she was likely to keep anything that came up with Jim quiet and to herself rather than contribute to the salacious rumors that followed him and affected his interpersonal relationships. Spock found comfort in his omega’s safety in that manner with La’An.

“Jim has already chosen what he wants,” Spock pointed out. “I see this meeting serving no purpose other than to suggest I have power over him.”

“You have a point,” La’An acknowledged.

“Unless you plan to ask for a monogamous relationship from him. Then this meeting is more of a warning to me than a request for permission to expand the already complex relationship Jim and I have with each other and others.”

La’An gave a slow nod. “I think I will be asking for a monogamous relationship from him, yes.”

Spock went silent and studied his own folded hands. What was even permissible to say in this situation? Of course, Spock felt possessive over Jim; it was wholly part of his nature as a Vulcan and partially as an alpha half-bonded to an omega. But underneath his nature were many factors that Spock knew of Jim. Upon meeting Spock, he had not been comfortable sharing his heat with him and chose his long-term heat partner instead (though it had not worked so well in the end). Spock could not say for sure that Jim would jump all in and allow La’An to take over all duties that the Vulcan held, but he had an inkling Jim would not. The human was extraordinarily cautious, calculated even, when it came to relationships, understandably so. Monogamy did seem to be within Jim’s repertoire in the past, but presently Spock had doubts.

“Would it not have been more prudent to discuss this with Jim first before coming to me?” Spock asked.

“You’re assuming I haven’t discussed monogamy with James.” La’An caught Spock’s gaze and his raised brow, only to laugh nervously. “You’re right, I haven’t. But you knowing I haven’t makes me think that’s bad news.”

“I cannot presume what Jim might say. If he wishes to pursue a monogamous relationship with you, that will then be a conversation between you, him, and his physicians,” Spock gave a figurative shrug as he leaned back in his seat.

La’An was quiet, studying Spock with a severe gaze. “You know, there are a lot of implications in your words. I thought Vulcans did not deal in implication?”

“I am unable to speak on behalf of Jim. There are, of course, facts that I know. Because I am unsure of your knowledge of those facts, I cannot provide further insight the way maybe you wish I would,” Spock attempted to explain. “Human relationships are far more complex than Vulcan ones. Information that is freely shared among Vulcans is not so in Humans. So, while I have insight I could provide, I will not, as you would be better served asking Jim your question.”

“I suppose you’ve given the permission you can without me necessarily knowing the minutiae you imply exist,” La’An stood. “I or Jim will keep you informed.”

Left alone to his thoughts, Spock released an audible sigh as he closed his eyes. In the quiet, he allowed the connection he had with Jim to wash over him. It was easy to feel his distance, harder to understand his emotional state. After a month or so of being separated by solar systems, the connection had felt strong upon Jim’s return to the Enterprise. Two weeks of close proximity, and Spock could feel the strength weaken. The Vulcan wondered if Jim’s romance with La’An was the culprit, or if his meditative work with M’Benga suppressed the intensity of his connections. That was just as likely, given that Christine had recently been concerned with his emotional distance from her. When she suggested it was due to Jim’s need for attention, Spock admitted he had scarcely given focus to the omega. Christine had not been pleased with that answer either and expressed concern over Jim’s well-being, avoiding her own. On the other, other hand, La’An had absorbed the time Spock could not donate, so it was logical their mate connection weakened.

“Lieutenant Kirk to Mr. Spock,” the Vulcan’s communicator called.

Leisurely, Spock pulled himself from his thoughts and answered the comm. “Spock here, what do you require?”

“Requesting we share dinner tonight? A game of chess, even?” Jim asked, and the tone of his voice deepened.

“I would be amenable to that. Do you have plans for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I do not,” Jim answered. “Am I too presumptuous to suggest that I do now?”

“You are not too presumptuous, no,” Spock answered, affording himself the comfort of his speech with Jim while he remained alone.

Upon entrance to his quarters, Spock observed Jim examining the lyre that the Vulcan had failed to put back in its appropriate place. It rested upon the small desk in a corner of Spock’s quarters, where the Vulcan had also piled PADDs and other items, still rearranging the space to his specifications. He had been unsure if he wanted the desk to face the wall, or if he wanted space between the wall and the desk so he could sit behind just as he did in his regular office. As it was, pressed up against the wall, Spock realized his space appeared more cluttered, a reflection of his mind, no doubt. This would have to be rectified before they neared the Vulcan star system. T’Pring would not be impressed that his room had grown more cluttered and human, not less so. And Jim would not appreciate being blamed for that when his quarters were much tidier.

“Are you good?” Jim asked.

Spock tilted his head slightly as he walked deeper into his quarters with two covered metal plates and placed them on the short table in the sitting area. The question had little context, and Spock had already been so deep in his thoughts between cooking with Pike and his conversation with La’An, he hardly had the capacity to understand Jim’s meaning.

“Expand your question, I apologize,” Spock requested.

Jim walked up behind Spock with a loose gait. Heavy hands found the Vulcan’s broad back and shoulders. The man leaned into him to hook his chin over Spock’s shoulder. “I was asking if you were any good at the lyre,” Jim spoke gently, “But I guess now I’m asking if you’re alright?”

The Vulcan stood straighter and turned in Jim’s hands. Gently, he cupped the man’s elbows to keep them touching, to keep them close. Spock, concerned this might be his last night to have Jim to himself, would indulge in having him wholly.

“I believe I am skilled at the Vulcan lyre, my neighbors would disagree,” Spock began with a joke, which eased the crease between Jim’s eyebrows. He released an elbow to tenderly caress Jim’s plush bottom lip where his first gift shone and sat comfortably. “We are nearing the Vulcan star system; my mind is distracted.”

Jim hummed, “I have a difficult time believing T’Pring is the only reason you’re distracted. You made me dinner with Chris, so maybe he provided too thoughtful of a conversation?”

Though he listened, the Vulcan was admittedly distracted by his desire to kiss Jim’s lips; he knew Jim wanted the same, but he would not cross the line until the man did. However, it seemed their time was coming to an end as quickly as it had begun, if there ever was a moment to try to test a boundary. Rather than kiss where he wished, Spock’s hand moved to wrap around the back of Jim’s head and pulled him close so he could kiss the man’s forehead. Haunting Spock’s desires were Jim’s emotions, filled with content, disappointment, and understanding. An array that Spock typically found comforting, but in this moment could not, knowing he must admit to the secret conversation he had with La’An.

“Sit, I will discuss with you what is on my mind while we eat,” Spock answered.

They parted from each other, both quick to remove their outer fatigues, and left only their undershirts, which stripped them of their position status. The Vulcan took care to send their uniforms away and searched for his chess set while Jim made himself comfortable on the ground beside the chair closest to the small table where the food remained covered. While Spock had grown concerned his connection to Jim had diminished, it seemed Jim was eager to show that was not true. However, the alternative was that Jim was lost in his thoughts and had such a desperate desire to submit, he disguised it out of concern for Spock’s more obvious dissociation. To an outsider, it appeared that Spock held power over Jim, that he enjoyed the submission. While the latter was true, the Vulcan was sure Jim held all the power, and the omega’s submission gave Spock’s psyche a central focus, which brought him back into his own body. The Vulcan could not experience his omega’s submission without being present, and Jim, who was often too wholly present, could not experience his alpha’s dominance without reverie.

Spock returned to Jim’s side to steal the shoes and socks the human had removed and placed the shoes by his own, disposing of the socks just as he had with their uniforms. Then he finally sat beside Jim, and the man appeared confused, used to a performed difference of height and power. Spock in a chair with Jim at his feet. He requested patience from the omega because tonight they would do things a little differently. They needed to converse, and Spock needed closeness. After he revealed their healthy meal comprised of vegetables and carbs, a vegetarian meal that Jim would complain about later, he opened himself up to Jim. Without further question, the human moved to sit between Spock’s legs, his back pressed against one shoulder and a propped-up leg, with the Vulcan’s arm around his broad shoulders. Jim’s legs were in a tangle over Spock’s other leg. This allowed them to sit on equal ground, see each other as they spoke, and give Spock enough movement to feed Jim without being entirely blind.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Jim remarked as Spock collected the first bite of food.

The Vulcan fed it to Jim to keep him silent, earning a chuckle from the man. “You are correct that I am distracted. While the impending visit from T’Pring certainly brings me a level of anxiety, this does not distract me so much that I…”

“Become non-verbal?” Jim asked, finishing Spock’s sentence with ease.

“Indeed,” the Vulcan agreed and gave the man another bite. This earned another laugh, at least Jim found some amusement in this arrangement. “You were also correct in assuming I had a conversation with Chris today, but it was brief and provided a reminder that you requested I stop the nasal inhibitors.”

Jim had no remark and gave a simple nod as he took the next bite of food. Spock fed himself, to give him time to chew on his own thoughts. This conversation could be short, it could be long, it might end this close intimacy they shared, or it might not. Spock could not predict for sure as this seemed to be uncharted territory in a way. How much of his conversation could he give? How much was appropriate? Spock did not want to ruin his friendship with La’An, after all she had done him the courtesy of speaking with him about Jim. Something he was sure she might have requested to do earlier, had she known the extent of his and Jim’s involvement with each other.

“La’An and I met today, to speak about you,” Spock finally admitted. Jim opened his mouth to ask a question and the Vulcan put food in there instead and admired the omega’s glowering face, one he had not had the pleasure of seeing before. “She asked for the meeting,” Spock clarified. “She wanted to ask my permission to pursue a deeper relationship with you. I would not bring this up under normal circumstances, but I know she did not seek your permission in this, and I would feel amiss if I did not inform you that this conversation had occurred.”

Spock hesitated with the next bite of food, but Jim stole it, clearly needing time to chew on his own thoughts. So, the Vulcan took Jim’s lead and filled his own stomach that he had neglected in favor of Jim’s. They ate quietly as Spock had nothing else to say if Jim had nothing to ask or respond with. But the Vulcan knew Jim had many things he wanted to say, it was simply choosing the correct line of questioning. One that avoided landmines but gave him enough information to understand. Spock would be honest, but he knew Jim often chose to avoid questions that would give him the entire truth. He preferred inquiries that required answers disguised from the truth, distanced.

“I appreciate that you told me,” Jim started and stole another bite meant to satiate Spock’s own hunger. “Your instinct was good, that I would be upset that this conversation happened behind my back.”

“It is not my intention to upset you or sour your relationship with La’An,” Spock attempted to clarify, concerned he was doing unintentional damage.

“She is following a very old standard of courting rules, had you not been my mate she would have spoken to Sam,” Jim reassured, “I think she’s trying to gauge just how traditional I am and without asking me, she’s going to miss the mark at times.”

“You believe she is attempting to be romantic.”

Jim gave a slow nod and gazed up at Spock with a sly smile, “Attempting was a choice word Spock. Do you not find it romantic?”

Spock released an audible sigh and diverted his gaze towards the food. “I am not the party being seduced.”

“Oh, now I’m being seduced,” Jim teased.

“Are you not?”

The final bite made it to Jim’s mouth, and the omega shifted so he faced Spock a little more straight on and pressed his cheek to the Vulcan’s shoulder while his nose gently twitched in search of Spock’s scent.

“I think I’ve been seduced, but I also think romance is a little different,” Jim admitted.

Spock could feel the heat that grew in Jim’s body; he was embarrassed, and the Vulcan could not understand why. “To answer your question, I believe you would find it more romantic had you been invited to the meeting. You enjoy displays of possession and prefer to have a say in the progress of your relationships.”

“You know me very well,” the man murmured.

Arms wrapped around Jim’s body to hold him close, the chess game could wait; Spock would steal as much of the human’s physical affection as he could. “After ten months of knowing you as intimately as I do, I would hope that to be true.”

“The conversation with La’An bothered you enough that your thoughts are jumbled,” Jim started again, “You’re not usually this touchy either.”

The Vulcan simply maintained a meditative breathing pattern, unwilling to release Jim despite being read so thoroughly.

“Remember when we first started this, I told you Ben was going to still be a part of my life until I trusted you?”

“I do,” Spock answered, it seemed Jim echoed his reflections from earlier.

“I’m not sure I could trust anyone with my heat but you,” Jim confessed, his face still hidden, his voice quieter.

Spock’s lips brushed Jim’s forehead again. “I was told you were very calm with La’An until M’Benga came into your quarters.”

“You showed up and I didn’t give her another thought,” Jim countered.

The Vulcan felt a swell of pride and possession fill him in equal measures, hearing Jim’s confession. Heats and ruts alike were difficult to recall from memory immediately, but given enough time, all memories eventually returned. Jim did not provide a false recollection of something he had been told, that had been a true memory and experience. Spock could feel Jim’s laugher bubbling, he had been caught rumbling in the pleasure of knowing that during the omega’s heat, he was the one and only alpha he wanted.

“I’m not going to give you up,” Jim said, voice almost a whisper, as if he spilled secrets he was not meant to. “Regardless of you being my alpha, my mate, we’re going to be an incredible command team, and I don’t plan on being Captain with anyone else as my First Officer.”

That was a deeper confession than any Jim had given before. For a time, Jim’s admission that every time they engaged in coitus or Spock was simply himself, the omega wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him, had sustained the Vulcan in believing that they could become something more. But Jim’s openly selfish declaration was the comfort Spock sought and reflected in his physical hold of the omega. That for Spock was romance. They could never be physically intimate ever again, but it was clear the emotional and intellectual intimacy they shared was for them alone and no one else. Spock could have been satisfied with that. Now he realized far more deeply the strong urge to kiss Jim. His fingers twitched, mind selfishly suggested that he run his fingers along Jim’s, the human would not need to know that they kissed as Vulcans did, but Spock could not do such a thing without Jim’s knowledge. Would not. It would not taste as sweet, feel as triumphant a feat if Jim had no understanding of what the action meant.

Without another word, Spock took Jim to bed, undressed him, and sat the omega with his hips on the edge of the bed so the Vulcan could worship him on his knees as he should. Jim’s legs tightened around Spock’s bare shoulders, thick fingers pushed through black and silver hair, flexing and releasing with the waves of pleasure. Heels dug into well-muscled shoulders as the human’s body tensed, arched, and displayed the grand menagerie of muscle under tanned skin while an orgasm was pulled through his cocklett. With the organ flaccid, the Vulcan moved to the dripping cunt. Jim shook with need and overstimulation, his body contorting and folding around Spock, hunched over as well as he could. A reaction as if his body wished to remove the Vulcan and simultaneously hold him closer. While many of his muscles remained on display, the softness of his belly reappeared, the quivering of the cushion that surrounded his thighs and pressed against Spock’s ears.

Jim had become incoherent as several more orgasms were pulled from Spock’s dexterous tongue and exploratory fingers. With Jim seemingly spent Spock ushered them back onto the bed, pulled Jim’s back against his chest, and pushed his cock into Jim’s loose and slick cunt from the back. A weak mewl left Jim’s throat, but his hips pushed back, his cunt squeezed around the member that thrust in with short ruts. Spock’s arms encircled Jim’s chest, one teased his pierced nipples, and the other held his hips in place while he fucked into his cunt from behind. The Vulcan’s lips and teeth teased the mate mark he had made, urging another orgasm from the omega. It had been some time, but Spock, upon orgasming, managed to pop a knot with the help of Jim’s milking cunt. With his cock surrounded by Jim’s heat, the omega sufficiently satiated with orgasms and a knot, the human’s hands found Spock’s and held them tight until they both fell asleep tangled together.

The morning came, and they shared a quiet meal discussing the mission that Spock had been assigned as well as T’Pring’s visit. She would not join them until after Amanda came and went, and Jim had wondered aloud if he would meet Spock’s mother. He had to thank her for a gift after all. And Spock could give no answer as he had not even considered the possibility of his mother’s visit including an introduction to Jim. They shared a shower and more intimacy before they began to dress. Amid their morning ministrations, Spock received a call that he had to take immediately, as it came from T’Pring. Even if they had not planned to meet, he was always sure to answer her calls as they were infrequent and she had no way to truly know his schedule, especially when he was not yet on duty. Jim continued to prepare for his day, doing well to ignore what he could and be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Spock,” T’Pring began, “there is a situation I felt the need to apprise you of. During your upcoming visit, I have arranged to have our ceremonial engagement dinner.”

Jim froze where he stood on the other side of Spock’s quarters, and the Vulcan could not prevent himself from glancing at such wide hazel eyes. When the human looked away first, Spock turned his attention back to T’Pring and the conversation at hand.

“A V’Shal Dinner?” Spock glanced at Jim again as he said, “Is it not too soon? After all, I am still not speaking to my father.”

There was also the minor (major) detail he had yet to confess to her, that he had mated Jim, that they would be fully bonded in the human way come Spock’s next rut in a month and a half.

“My parents are aware of the situation with Sarek.” T’Pring took a suffering breath. “And yet, with your Starfleet schedule so challenging, my mother felt this would be best.”

“This was T’Pril’s idea?”

“Yes,” T’Pring answered, “she remains opposed to our union. I believe providing this will—” she took a more noticeable breath, “—alleviate some,” she swallowed, “tension.”

As she finished her forced sentence, Jim appeared behind Spock to collect his shoes and a PADD of his own that he had left on the desk.

“A logical assessment,” Spock replied and forced his focus despite Jim’s wrist caressing his neck. He could see T’Pring’s gaze following up to where Jim worked to collect his belongings. His own followed hers to examine Jim again before he added, “I will help in any way that I am able.”

“I was under the impression that your next cycle was not due for another six weeks,” T’Pring changed the subject.

Jim flushed and brought his face down to the screen to give the Vulcan woman a nervous smile, one Spock did not feel he needed to give. She knew how they were interwoven, even if she did not know the deeper capacity of it yet, and she had facilitated their reunion after Spock’s heinous faux pas.

“Hello T’Pring,” Jim greeted, “I have been stationed on the Enterprise for First Officer training, and I am leaving now to go to my shift.”

“James,” T’Pring called the man before he could dart away, filled with shame. It took most of Spock’s self-control not to give the omega an assuring touch, and with his nasal inhibitors, he could not control his scent effectively to calm him down either. “We have conversed briefly about whether this situation were to arise in the near future.”

“Yes,” Jim acknowledged.

“When did this occur?” Spock asked, surprised and unaware.

“I have prepared for it,” the omega spoke up when T’Pring appeared unsure of what to say.

“As have I,” T’Pring gave a nod. “Spock. James, I look forward to our meeting.”

The call ended, and Spock felt stunned and left out of the loop of a very important meeting. When he looked to Jim the man was pulling his regulation boots on with his PADD tucked into his armpit, failing to display any grace in his movements.

“So, you do not plan to explain yourself then?”

Jim looked up and flashed his teeth at Spock. This was not a smile, but a primal primate response left over from his ancestors. “You didn’t tell her that we’re practically engaged, so why should I share what she and I planned, knowing you would eventually have a ceremonial engagement dinner?”

Spock stood hands clasped behind his back as he took measured steps towards Jim, who inched backwards towards the door of his quarters, as if they were not both headed to the bridge. He had not intended to be menacing, but Jim’s wavering smile and the way his fingers twitched against his PADD told Spock that the human was nervous. So, he smoothed his facial features more, attempting neutrality, and Jim’s nose twitched, clearly seeking assurance he would not receive. More evidence that Spock would need to rid himself of nasal inhibitors. To see Jim’s anxiety about something so serious led Spock to believe that he could not understand that the Vulcan was teasing and flirting, through his own lens of worry.

“I will tell her we are mated and will be bonded.”

“Great!” Jim exclaimed and reached a hand up to the button that would open the doors. “She and I plan on doing our own ceremonial engagement—which may or may not involve a particular beta and alpha if she has her way—with you present, of course.”

The Vulcan knew his eyes doubled in size and his hands dropped to his side, fingers flexed in and out of a fist as his body suddenly became riddled with renewed anxiety. A ceremonial engagement between his Vulcan betrothed, to whom he had been bonded for the better part of two decades, and his human omega, to whom he had a complex, amorphous relationship and would be bound to in six weeks. A ceremonial engagement he would be an audience to, that potentially Christine and La’An would also be an audience to. As far as Spock understood of the two cultures he was born to, neither had ever set a precedent such as this before.

Jim took a few cautious steps towards Spock and ever so softly brushed his lips against the Vulcan’s cheek. “It’ll be fine, I promise. You have a few days to mull it over, and I have a few days to figure out what La’An wants from me. Right?”

“Indeed,” Spock replied mechanically.

The human hummed with concern. “Well, maybe your mom can help you come to terms with your complicated love life. I’ll see you on the bridge.”

“I will accompany you,” Spock finally spoke up from his languor.

Chris had believed Christine’s company on a mission would have aided in distracting Spock from his impending engagement ceremony with T’Pring and her family. And it might have in different circumstances. However, that was not the engagement ceremony Spock had truly become worried about. A ceremony that had no precedence, therefore no guidelines for Spock to study, worried him more. Especially that Christine would be asked to be a part of it. If Jim and Spock’s relationship was amorphous his and Christine’s relationship was exactly as she had described it, pandora’s box.

“The Vulcan Science Academy would be lucky to have someone of your experience,” Spock relayed during their conversation after he had set their course in the shuttle.

“Thanks,” She smiled happily. Though clearly, she was nervous that she had upset him with her application to a fellowship. “I know we already sort of talked about this, but I still feel like you’ve been avoiding me, even now while we’re in here together.”

Spock moved from his pilot seat to the science station to begin a scan. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“More than usual? Is it the anomaly that will tell us what happened to the Kerkhov moon’s ancient civilization?” She asked, it was meant to be teasing.

“While that persists to be my main focus, the impending visit of T’Pring has become more focal since this morning.”

“What happened?” Christine asked kindly.

Spock moved back to stand where she sat, hand on the back of her chair, while the other remained clasped behind his back. “I am to do a V’Shal Dinner, an engagement ceremony with her family and my mother.”

“This was probably expected?” Christine spoke with confusion.

“Not so soon, but yes, expected,” Spock replied, “What is unexpected is a ceremony she and Lieutenant Kirk have planned.”

Christine leaned back slightly and looked off to the surface of the moon rather than Spock. “That is unexpected, and you’re not just confiding in me because we’re friends.”

The Vulcan did not answer until she met his eyes again. “You are correct. Rather, this is Pandora’s box.”

“Spock,” Christine sighed, appearing exasperated that she might have to have this conversation again.

“T’Pring herself plans to invite you, and La’An, to bear witness alongside me as an audience to whatever those two have planned,” Spock explained and looked away at the mention of La’An.

“But you don’t know what kind of ceremony this is,” Christine confirmed.

“I do not. T’Pring does not yet know Jim and I are mates, but she and Jim have been conversing privately without my knowledge.”

Christine hummed, “Well, if they have a whole ceremony planned, I would assume she has an inkling that you and Lieutenant Kirk are going to be bonded if not already bonded.”

“Indeed,” Spock sighed and sat in his seat with some defeat.

“Well, I’ll go as a friend to you, to T’Pring, but I can’t… I can’t give more,” Christine admitted.

Spock understood. She never engaged in anything serious; she had told him as much. Christine enjoyed people in their multitudes, and he understood. Had he not been Vulcan, Spock was sure he would indulge himself in carnal pleasures freely, the way Christine did. Without emotional attachment. And while some might suggest he did indulge himself freely, he found deep attachment to all three of his would-be paramours. Christine knew this too, which was likely why she kept a distance between herself and Spock, to protect herself, understandably. She could not have Spock wholly in any true sense; he had a duty to his Vulcan heritage as well as his human one, and Christine was merely a person he chose for himself. A person he had chosen before Jim, and regardless of T’Pring.

“Mr. Spock?” M’Benga’s voice called to him. “Try to be still.”

Spock breathed in, able to smell the strong scents of Christopher Pike and M’Benga, and the quiet, more subtle and gentle scent of a beta, Christine. His eyes winced open at the lights above; normally, his eyes would better adjust, or his third lens would assist with the adjustment. Yet, that did not occur.

“You were in a shuttle accident,” Chris spoke softly.

“I feel,” Spock breathed out, his chest fuller, his sides slimmer. His heart pumped, but it felt wrong. “…strange.”

“You were injured,” Chris started.

Spock could smell the apprehension of all three observers, and he spoke demandingly, “What happened to me?”

“We don’t exactly know,” Christine responded.

Spock brought his hands up to examine; his palms were pinker in color, the muscles in his digits thicker.

“We crashed and then we woke up in space, right near the Enterprise,” Christine continued.

“Nurse Chapel was unhurt, but you were…” Chris appeared to have difficulty explaining exactly what had occurred.

M’Benga stepped in and finished with, “You were healed. Only, whoever did this seems to have made you human.”

Chapter Text

“It would appear I'm stuck like this.”

“For now,” M’Benga attempted to placate Spock. “We're working on a cure.”

“How do you, feel, Mr. Spock?” Chris asked with intense worry.

Dizzyingly, Spock sat up. There was a desire to attempt to understand everything that bubbled inside of him immediately. While Vulcans felt very deeply and strongly, a lot of work went into the suppression of those emotions because they often were too powerful if released wholly. The myriad of emotions simmering underneath Spock’s skin were not as powerful, but absolutely dominated his mind in a unique way.

“I feel angry,” an emotion that had always been close at heart for Spock. “And powerless. And annoyed.” Both new, but comfortably intertwined with each other, understandable given his situation. “And weirdly hungry? Is this a normal human feeling?”

M’Benga quickly replied, “Hunger can affect your mood. We'll get you something to eat.”

Spock smiled slightly, the up tilt of his lips easy and comfortable as he replied, “I feel grateful that you're trying to help me. Seriously, it's so nice of you.” It surprised Spock that even his language patterns had changed, more colloquial standard than he typically employed.

“There is the matter of your obligations on Vulcan,” Chris reminded.

Suddenly, there was a tightening in his chest and throat as panic rushed through his veins. Spock began to ramble, “It slipped my mind during the recovery. I don't know how I can attend my engagement dinner while I'm in this state. My fiancée's mother she hates me.” Because Spock could smell everything, he attempted to smell himself with concern, knowing how Vulcans felt about human scents firsthand. “Do I smell more human?” Speaking of scent, would Jim find him more or less appealing? A serious concern to be dealt with as well, especially if the human body remained more permanently. “I can’t see my mother like this. How long will this last?”

“I've already spoken to T'Pring and to your family.”

“What did you tell them, Captain? Because T'Pring's mother—if she heard I was human? This could be a serious disaster!” Spock’s voice rose uncharacteristically.

“Whoa. Whoa,” Chris attempted to placate Spock. “I simply told them that you were in an accident and you're recovering on the ship. They agreed that it was logical to postpone the dinner. And, regarding your mother, I already planned to send Lieutenant Kirk to greet her at transport if this is not resolved by her arrival.”

Spock gave a slight shake of his head, though he had been reassured by Chris’s calculated moves, another concern sprouted. “Lieutenant Kirk has never met my mother. Was that a wise decision?”

“Lieutenant Kirk is great with parents and is a good diplomat, you know firsthand that at least the latter is true,” Christ reassured further.

“You are correct, I absolutely trust your judgement.”

M’Benga then spoke up, “Nurse Chapel is already working around the clock to find a way to reverse your genetic alteration. But in the meantime, there is nothing—technically—wrong with you.”

“Then I should return to my duties and social obligations,” Spock spoke with confidence.

“Well, hmm—” Chris assessed Spock with a concerned eye again, “—alright, but take it easy, Mr. Spock. Go slow. Get your sea legs under you. Okay?”

Spock, enjoying his newfound and further developed sense of humor, replied, “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Security called me up here—”

“Don’t test me, Kirk! I will break you!” Spock roared.

“I’ll clean it up,” Sam whimpered.

“Woah, hey!” Jim shouted.

The man ran over to Spock, who was held back by two of his subordinate Science Officers to prevent him from physically assaulting Sam Kirk. Jim put his hands on Spock’s chest and worked to help the other Officers by pushing him backwards, so Sam could scurry out of the room with his dirty dishes.

“Be careful,” one of the officers grunted as his grip on Spock loosened.

Jim had been informed by Chris what had happened, and when he had asked further questions about what that meant for their duo compatibility, the Captain had come up short. It seemed M’Benga and Nurse Chapel also had no information to give Jim in this regard. But he had expected at some point to be called to level out Spock because he had already been reported to be acting strangely.

“I’m his duo,” Jim reassured the Science Officer, “I’ll take it from here.”

The omega instinctively pushed out his pheromones more thickly, filling the conference room. Spock’s heavy breathing increased his susceptibility to the intensity of the scent, and the alpha absorbed it rapidly. As a result, Spock’s heart rate and aggression decreased. Once it seemed he had leveled out enough, or at least had become distracted enough with Jim’s scent and touch, the other Officers felt comfortable enough to disappear just as Sam had. Ultimately, leaving the pair alone.

“Where is your office?” Jim asked as he gently pet Spock’s chest and then his cheeks to bring the Vulcanhuman back down from his heightened state.

“He pisses me off so much!” Spock protested while his hand gestured grandly at a door at the end of the room.

“Oh, trust me, I grew up with him. He can be a disgusting pig sometimes,” Jim assuaged as he led Spock into the alpha’s office.

“Stars, you smell so good,” Spock confessed once the door closed, and he could bury his nose in the crook of Jim’s neck.

His arms wrapped around Jim’s waist and pulled their bodies flush together. Jim, happy to provide for his alpha, especially after a night that played out like it was about to be their last, took in Spock’s scent only to frown. He pulled his head away slightly with a wrinkle of his nose and then took it in again. Spock’s scent was not quite right, and Jim really could not pinpoint what it was. All the notes were there, still spicy, woody, musky, with that added flavor of citrus, amber, and lavender as undertones. However, Jim would never admit to Spock that he did not suddenly enjoy the other’s scent. Something Vulcan likely made it far more appealing. It was not even a quarter as appealing as he typically found it. La’An’s scent was more appetizing.

It was not the moment to panic because Spock needed support. The alpha still found Jim’s scent appealing, so he would commit to his duty as Spock’s duo and mate. What he had not expected was for the hard press of Spock’s dick in his trousers against Jim while the alpha’s hands roamed his body to grope and feel him up. Without resistance, the omega allowed his alpha to back him up against the desk and pin him there. The alpha worked his shirt up to tuck under Jim’s chin so he could dip down and suck and lick at pierced nipples. At least Spock had not lost his skill; Jim would be thankful for that as he dropped his head back with a moan.

“Have I ever told you I love your tits?” Spock moaned against Jim’s chest.

How embarrassing, Jim thought. “No,” he answered breathlessly.

“Well,” Spock sucked hard on a pierced nipple while his other hand squeezed Jim’s other pec until his fingers slipped to pinching the nipple. “I love your tits. Especially when you start gaining weight like this.”

Jim was sure he would die if the man kept that up and was certain that Spock might die from embarrassment if they ever got him back to normal. His legs wrapped around Spock’s slightly slimmer waist, but the alpha pushed them so he could instead pull off Jim’s boots, his pants, and boxers. This left the omega only in his rucked-up shirts. As Spock’s lips found Jim’s neck, the omega worked the alpha’s pants open, because if they were going to do this, they needed to be fast. He was positive La’An would show up soon to make sure the security threat had been neutralized.

Once Jim managed to pull Spock’s cock out, he gave it a firm stroke and sighed with some devastation that the double ridge and self-lubrication had been removed from Spock’s physiology as well. So, the omega was careful in taking his slick and used it to stroke Spock’s member.

“That is so warm, your hand is rough, it feels good,” Spock commented with awe.

He spoke as if they had never had sex before. As if Jim had never stroked Spock’s dick in his work calloused hands. The omega found himself speechless as his body heated and his mind raced. Jim wondered if the pillow talk was the thoughts that had raced through the Vulcan's mind but went unspoken. Spock, as a Vulcan, had excellent pillow talk, sensual and exciting, always right on the edge of raunchy and debauched, but human Spock was reminiscent of Jim’s younger years with inexperienced partners. Jim’s legs wound back around Spock’s hips and the alpha pushed away Jim’s hand to guide his dick in, pushing inside of the omega’s cunt in one fluid motion. Thick fingers dug into Spock’s thick shoulders while the alpha’s hands gripped Jim’s hips in a vice. It seemed Spock was reveling in the surrounding heat of Jim’s channel.

“You are so warm. And tight. And wet,” Spock remarked.

Jim gave a weak nod; his body shook in torturous pleasure. “It’s…It’s because…” The omega flushed, embarrassing himself to no end, feeling ten years younger. As if he were three months into his time in Starfleet, seventeen, and giving his virginity to another early admission cadet. “It’s because it’s you,” Jim admitted finally with an excited moan as his channel tightened.

“Tight,” the alpha breathed and pressed his nose into Jim’s neck again. “It’s all mine too.”

The unexpected possession sent sparks up Jim’s spine and pleasure through all his appendages and buzzing at the tips of his fingers and toes. His cocklett spurted in excitement because while it was not necessarily true that Spock had him wholly, it was true enough. Without wasting more time Spock began to fuck Jim urgently. It was fast, brutal, and had Jim collapsing back on Spock’s desk. Decorated chest heaved; thick calloused fingers clung to the edge of the desk above his head as Spock took what he needed. Jim would thank all the stars that Spock still knew what the omega enjoyed despite the alterations to his favorite appendage. And the omega would praise whatever deity that had this human Spock care that Jim wanted to get off. What he had not expected was for a full knot to pop.

A surprise to them both as Spock no longer had the ability to control his knot, and for humans, to knot outside of cycle in unbonded duos was extraordinarily rare. Jim’s eyes rolled, his body spasmed, and the tight channel of his cunt instinctually milked the knot for all it was worth. Fortunately for the pair of them, the knot did not last as long as usual when Spock forced it, but for a human, it certainly lasted longer than expected, especially with how eager Jim’s physiology had been to receive what Spock gave.

When Spock finally pulled away completely and Jim’s chest no longer swelled to catch air and his body no longer shook, he attempted to get back to his feet. However, he pressed his thighs together and gripped the edge of the desk beside them as his body appeared desperate to hold the cum inside of his body. The alpha, once his member was safely tucked back into his pants and his uniform was smoothed out, went to Jim’s to assist in redressing him. While Jim held Spock’s shoulders, his face turned away to avoid the strange scent of the alpha, the man buttoned Jim’s pants and kissed his neck. Hazel eyes fluttered shut to enjoy the intimacy of having Spock put him back together again because never had the alpha done that before.

Desperate to keep their closeness and intimacy, Jim ignored his distaste for Spock’s scent and hid his face in the Vulcan’s human’s thick, broad shoulder. Having been so distracted by the sheer intimacy of the moment and the embarrassment of having been so suddenly and thoroughly ravaged, Jim had not heard the chime of the door of Spock’s office. The omega’s hands moved down Spock’s chest slowly to feel the thicker muscle while the alpha continued to run his hands up and down Jim’s back.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” an accented voice announced, “just meant to check on the situation.”

Jim pulled away and gently pushed Spock to give them distance. “It’s under control,” he assured La’An.

“Maybe, you go clean yourself up and I’ll have a conversation with Spock? I believe I’ll distract him less,” La’An suggested.

Now that Jim had space to breathe, he had the space to think. And while clean up would be a decent thing to do for the sake of the rest of the crew, he needed to go to medbay. The chance that Spock was suddenly fertile was a major concern, especially if his entire physiology had been “fixed”. That would require a special concoction that only McCoy knew how to make, which meant communication would need to be had between M’Benga and McCoy across subspace frequencies. And, with Nurse Chapel frantically trying to find a way to fix Spock herself, the special concoction would take longer to make. However, Jim was not keen on the idea of walking the ship smelling so distinctly of sex, so he would listen to La’An’s advice and then report to medbay. In the meantime, to occupy his racing thoughts, Jim would concoct ways to prevent another ravaging until Spock and he both had what they needed to manage this strange turn of events.

“He’s all yours,” Jim muttered and ducked his head.

“Jim,” Spock called after, but Jim had slipped out the door and out of the main conference room before he could think about retreating to Spock’s arms.

“So,” Jim kicked his feet out nervously as he sat on a biobed nervously and held a PADD for dear life. “How is that cure coming along?”

“Well, so far my protein sequences keep collapsing into goo,” Nurse Chapel sighed and continued to scan Jim as she made notes occasionally on her own PADD.

Jim’s nose twitched as he smelled Spock all over her. “So, you also saw Spock. How is he?”

It was then that Nurse Chapel finally met Jim’s eyes with reflections of guilt and…fear? Disappointment? She was difficult for Jim to read. Beta scents held no real emotional information, so he was left to wonder.

“He said La’An told him to have better impulse control,” Nurse Chapel hummed.

“Oh?” Surprise flooded Jim; it seemed La’An at least had tried to help Spock, and Spock held no grudge against her for wanting to keep Jim to herself. “And how is that going?”

“Well, I imagine she said it after your incident with him,” Nurse Chapel began and then shrugged slightly, “And I also imagine you know what I smell like—”

“—So, impulse control is not going well?”

“Not at all,” She laughed nervously.

“Is it weird to ask if—”

“—It’s weird to ask.”

“Right,” Jim kicked his legs a bit more and fiddled with the edges of the PADD. “If he stays like this, I can’t stay with him,” he spoke quietly and retreated.

Nurse Chapel fumbled her PADD, and once she had her body settled from the surprise, she directed her shocked gaze at Jim. “Why?”

“His scent,” Jim wrinkled his nose, “it’s all wrong. Like, it’s right, but it’s off. I can only guess it’s whatever Vulcans smell like that makes it smell correct.”

Nurse Chapel tilted her head thoughtfully. “Some Vulcans are coming to the ship tomorrow, right? Maybe they’ll give me some insight on fixing him.”

“Oh, no. No Vulcan he’s related to is showing up, and—and you can’t tell them,” Jim jumped to his feet in defense. “I mean, scent is really just so…so arbitrary, who's to say I don’t just have a weird nose that suddenly hates the way he smells.”

“But you don’t hate it,” Nurse Chapel pointed out.

Jim chewed on his lip and gave a slow nod. “You’re right. I don’t hate it. But even if I thought those other Vulcans smelled good, could you even figure out what protein or enzyme is missing from that alone?”

“I can try,” she spoke with confidence.

The omega sighed and stared up at the fluorescence. “If it gets him back to normal, fine.”

“We’re on the same team, I’m not sure I like him like this,” she said sadly.

“I have a mother to greet in the transport room.”

“She did seem awfully enthusiastic about purchasing dilithium,” Chris could be heard speaking.

Dr. Amanda Grayson, Jim guessed, chuckled, and looked as though she meant to make a humorous reply when her eyes landed on Jim and his regulation gold. The pair of them seemed to suck a breath in simultaneously and Jim was thankful he took a real shower before going to Medbay and the Transport room because he had forgotten that Amanda was an omega. If he hadn’t cleaned himself, she would have smelled exactly what her son had done during working hours. It seemed his nerves got the best of him because her shock melted into serene calm and pleasantness. Her scent provided Jim with Spock’s lavender and citrus, settling him down into some comfort.

“You must be Lieutenant James Tiberius Kirk, youngest First Officer in the fleet,” Amanda spoke and took Jim’s hand into her own.

“You can call me Jim, Ma’am,” Jim gave a stiff nod.

“And where is my son?” She asked, her gaze focused on Pike while her hands continued to hold Jim’s.

“I thought it would be better, given Spock’s accident, that you were met by me and Lieutenant Kirk,” Chris tried to answer without appearing to lie.

“Alphas are terrible liars Jim; don’t you think so?” Amanda turned her focus back to Jim.

“Dr. Grayson, they’ve never been good at it, no, Ma’am,” Jim replied with a pleased smile.   

She gave him the same smile in return, “Now, tell me why my son is not here to greet me.”

Jim opened and closed his mouth several times, glanced at Pike for help, who only shrugged a bit desperately, his mouth making the same motion.

“Men, I swear,” Amanda rolled her eyes and squeezed Jim’s hand. “Omega to omega, please tell me Spock is okay.”

“Spock is okay,” Jim replied honestly, “he’s just not…feeling…like himself.”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed at Jim’s choice of words, “You really are Spock’s match, aren’t you. I can see why he’s so taken with you.”

“Taken?” Jim lurched slightly, “With me?”

Before the woman could explain further, the doors of the transport room slid open, and in walked Spock in a regulation beanie. Jim’s eyes widened because if Spock was attempting discretion, he was doing himself no favors at all.

“Spock, I was just speaking with Jim about—why are you wearing that silly hat?”

Spock scoffed and made a decidedly unVulcan face as he said, “It’s not silly. It’s regulation.”

And while Chris tried to offer his support, Jim could smell that Amanda had already seen through the façade, he also felt her hands tighten on his own again.

“As you know, we have to do the V’Shal dinner now or the wedding is off,” Amanda explained, “the engagement dinner has been moved several times due to your Starfleet schedule and the unmentioned physiological changes you underwent last year.”

Guilt filled Jim because apparently, he had put Spock’s life further off track than he had previously believed. But Spock’s focus was on further delaying the engagement dinner, understandably given his current state, rather than Jim’s discomfort, understandably as well. The omega felt guilty, but it was unsubstantiated as he knew Spock preferred to delay these proceedings as long as possible, regardless of Starfleet or having need of an omega. Amanda was incredible to watch as she went back and forth with Spock and Chris, calling them out on their lies as they discussed the V'Shal dinner. All the while, she maintained contact with Jim as if trying to keep the omega stable, and Jim was trying to regulate his hormones in response to Spock’s extraordinary unstable ones. Amanda was certainly a force of her own.

It was Spock’s outburst, “I don’t care about logic!” that finally had Amanda pulling away from Jim to round on her son. “I was in an accident and I’m in absolutely no state to possibly do this dinner! What part of that do you not understand, Mother!”

Inwardly, Jim groaned because the rumor that Spock was acting like a teenager was eerily correct. The outburst was certainly that of a petulant child who was unwilling to consider a perspective outside of his own and needed to be loud about it. Amanda, having already figured out exactly what was going on, glided to her son until she was almost chest to chest with him, a stern but loving gaze up, while he stared down wild-eyed.

“Take off your hat,” Amanda spoke with motherly authority.

And Spock, like the momma’s boy Jim knew he was, took it off without further argument. It was clear to everyone in the room that she had been waiting for honesty, and when that had not come, she forced Spock’s hand. She was disappointed that she had not been told the truth, but understood that it was not Chris's nor Jim’s truth to tell. Spock needed to have been the one to come clean. Instead, he had not, despite Jim’s hormonal urging, and disappointed his mother. And Jim didn’t feel good about it, so he knew Spock felt a million times worse. As a group, they decided it would be best to go to Pike’s quarters, where there would be enough room for the four of them. However, on their way, they intercepted La’An, who had just been released from duty.

“Lieutenant Kirk, do you have a moment so we can speak?” La’An asked, her hand cupping his elbow.

Though her language was formal, because of a guest she did not know, her physicality openly displayed their closeness. Jim’s eyes darted to Spock, who watched on, but was gripped by his mother, seemingly strong enough to ensure Spock would not outwardly react to whatever complicated set of human emotions he experienced upon seeing La’An and Jim. The omega assessed the entire situation for a moment before Chris gave him a small head nod.

“You know where to find us, Lieutenant Kirk,” Chris spoke with some authority.

With that, the trio left while Spock tripped over his feet a little bit, no doubt that Amanda somehow forced his attention forward despite his desire to track his omega’s movement.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jim asked and reached up to try to tuck a stray hair that fell from her braid behind her ear.

La’An’s hand reached up and snatched his wrist. “My quarters are not far from here?”

Jim’s eyes slowly slid back to the retreating backs before he gave a slow nod. “Sure,” he draped his arm across her slim shoulders and followed her lead to her room.

Sat on the couch where he had received his first gift, he watched as she rummaged through drawers, likely trying to find another gift. Relaxed back on the couch, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, one arm tossed over the shoulder of the couch while his other hand fingered the necklace, she had gifted him thoughtfully.

“I had something I wanted to ask you, too, but you can go first,” Jim said as she walked back to him, gift in hand.

La’An held a decent-sized leather box that dwarfed her hands but fit well in his own. She fell back against his chest, tucked into his side with her legs tucked under herself. His arm fell from the shoulder of the couch to La’An’s so he could hold the box in both hands with her wrapped in his arms. Though the position was awkward and slightly uncomfortable, the intimacy that bloomed between their bodies was well worth it. Especially as La’An’s hand gripped his thigh so tightly, and after his day, her scent had become far more enjoyable after having a human Spock’s scent all over him. Leisurely, he opened the box, inside a watch made of black metal, which matched his necklace, and had a pearlescent face staring up at him. Before he could say anything, she removed it from the box and found Jim’s wrist to adorn him with the gift.

“Presumptuous,” Jim couldn’t help but laugh.

“Confident,” La’An corrected.

“About?” Jim prompted.

La’An shifted their positions, so they sat face to face. “I wanted to ask you how you might feel about us being more serious?”

“More serious, how?” Jim asked warily.

The woman examined Jim for a long moment. He was sure his scent was riddled with anxiety and fear. Jim was unwilling to give Spock up in any capacity, and he had warned Jim of this conversation. They had even had sex in such a way that they might not ever again, but that had been before Spock had been made human. While Jim certainly had feelings for La’An, he could not set aside what he felt for Spock—a sudden realization he had come to at that very moment.

Jim would never trust anyone with his heat aside from Spock. Sure, he had been interested in La’An because her scent was pleasing—he did assume that was because of some form of contraception, though they had never actually discussed that. And sure, they also mentally sparred in almost the same way he and Spock did. And sure, she was athletic and beautiful and would certainly make a good First Officer. But La’An would not make a great first officer. And she would never compare to the complex beauty of his mate. And she was not nearly as intellectually brilliant as Spock, as much as she was able to keep up with Jim when he allowed her. And her scent was not the one that had awoken a desire for more in him almost ten months prior.

La’An seemed to be in deep contemplation just as Jim had when she finally answered. “I had intended to ask you to be in an exclusive relationship with me, but I had a conversation with Spock, and I understand that your situation is more complex than you’ve offered to explain to me. So, I wonder if you might consider as much exclusivity as possible? Maybe Spock is only your heat partner and I’m yours the rest of the time?”

Impulsively, Jim replied, “He’s my mate.”

La’An, with too kind and too understanding of deep walnut eyes, gave him a fond smile. “I know, but I also know that Chris and Una are mated, and Chris has outside relationships. They just share Una’s heat.”

“Right,” Jim swallowed and blinked.

Ice filled Jim’s veins. He felt frozen as realization had washed over him. A battle within his mind and body. La’An, who arguably was the closest to Una, seemed to miss a blatantly obvious fact about the omega First Officer. Una was in love with Christopher Pike; she had alluded to and then told Jim as much. And he was sure Chris reciprocated, but was entirely oblivious because of the external relationships he kept to run from his feelings. An activity Spock would come to understand just as Jim had, if he was not already aware. But it would also be flippant to claim that La’An (or Christine and T’Pring in Spock’s case) was a passing phase because Jim could see her filling the spaces that Spock could not or would not. She could be a partner, a good one, a loving one. La’An was certainly far more intuitive than Spock, but she also had more time to hone her instincts. But she wasn’t Spock. And even if Spock did get stuck in a human body for the rest of his human life, he knew what he had said to Christine had been voiced out of fear rather than reality. The bite on his neck was proof enough that Jim would be Spock’s until the end.

“Do you like the watch? It's time can be adjusted based on the planet or starship,” La’An gently pulled Jim from his thoughts.

Thick fingers touched the watch with feeble admiration and examined how it looked on his wrist. Modeled after 21^st century watches, but with all the technology for modern times and needs. New and old, traditional and modern, she really saw him, and that in and of itself kept him frozen with fear. It was as though La’An knew every depth he had, and Jim knew nothing of her. They had conversations, of course, and they shared their experience in the war, something Spock did not fully understand, though that was certainly debatable, as his experience in the Klingon-Federation War was unmatched. But Jim truly knew nothing other than what he could assume from her name, her relationships, files, and videos from various sources. Those weren’t experiences relayed directly from her mouth. How fair was it that Jim knew close to nothing about La’An, and she seemed to know the depths of his soul?

“It’s very nice, thank you,” Jim finally answered, overwhelmed by her dedication to him.

Their eyes met, and Jim’s softened as hers brightened. Suddenly, with just the warmth in those brown eyes, there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than her. La’An stood first, took his hands in her small ones, and he stood to follow her to the large bed in her quarters. Their lips were soft and gentle as they moved. Simply teasing as fingers grazed uniforms, pulling the material off slowly, tossing the items carelessly until they were both naked and tumbling into bed. La’An was intentional with her touch. She held him with confidence as she stroked his cocklett, and his lips and hand found her breasts. Jim’s other slipped down her body as he hovered above her to feel her slick cunt, and stroke her member, similar in size to his own, thicker.

With the bodies they did have, they teased each other to completion at least once. La’An with her dexterous hands-on Jim’s cocklett, and Jim with his curious fingers in her tight cunt. Their first shared orgasm, mouths gasping and panting against each other, had them almost desperate to have each other the way alpha and omega craved. This was not their first time having sex either, so Jim knew how well La’An could take care of him in the simplest of ways. He was a bit clumsy as he crawled over her to straddle her waist while her hands worked to calm his body and stroke her member using their combined slick. Jim didn’t wait to be prepped either, despite La’An’s protests, because after having been taken by Spock earlier in the day, he knew he’d need no help.

La’An still managed to set the pace as she held her dick and guided Jim down slowly. Once she was fully sheathed, which took no time for him to achieve, even though he further incurred her chastisement, they remained still. Jim leaned down and held her round, soft face between his large, rough hands and kissed her with urgency. A desire had suddenly come over him. One that he had never shared with anyone but Spock during his heat or his worst nights. Gradually, Jim lifted his hips and brought them down deliberately, picking up the pace with every roll of his hips. La’An kissed across his broad chest as they moved. But Jim whined and bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself quiet.

“You’re normally chatty,” La’An breathed against his jaw as she brought his back down to pull his bottom lip back from where he sucked hard on it. “What are you keeping quiet?”

“Can’t say,” Jim shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as he buried his face into La’An’s neck.

She pulled his hips down and held him in place, making the man squirm. “You can say, trust me, I’ll like anything you have to say.”

If Jim had been of sound mind, he might have heard the knowing tone her voice held. “I… I need,” Jim whined, and it morphed into a groan as she used her inhuman strength to keep him in place.

“You just need to tell me, James, I’d give you anything.”

He moaned long and low and rubbed his face in the crook of her neck. “I want you to breed me, fill me with pups, please. I’m so empty, I need you. I need your seed, please.”

“Oh James,” La’An purred as she held his hips up slightly and began to rock herself up into his dripping cunt. “I’d be happy to.”

Jim’s entire body shook with pleasure from being so easily accepted, from her strong hands, her skillful hips, and teasing lips. She allowed him to take a harsh and desperate pace where his cunt squeezed every pull up, their skin slapped loudly, and the squelch of slick became obvious. Her hand found his cocklett again and began to stroke him with a firm grip as her hips met Jim with power. He continued to babble about what he needed and wanted all the way through their shared orgasm.

When they came down together on the bed, Jim on his back, head propped on La’An’s arm and shoulder, while she rested on her side alongside him, stroked his hair and chest. It was comfortable, intimate as their lips shared lazy kisses, and he worked to undo her braid. A delicate hand moved down to his lower abdomen and gently rubbed just right below his belly button, brushing against the jewelry Spock had gifted him many months ago.

“I hope it does take, it’d be a joy to see you with our child,” La’An whispered against Jim’s lips.

Chapter Text

“Glad you decided to join us for the engagement dinner, Kirk,” Captain Pike hummed.

Jim tilted his head and sighed. “Well, if my scent can assist in keeping him calm, I suppose it’s the least I can do while Nurse Chapel finds a cure.”

“Yes, let’s hope she does, otherwise…”

“Otherwise, what?” Jim snapped as he tried to smooth his formal Starfleet shirt.

“Well…nothing,” Pike hummed and turned his attention to ensure his food looked perfect. “How was your visit with La’An?”

A frown aged Jim’s young face. He avoided Pike’s inquisitive knowing gaze. There was a soft nagging feeling within, and his head turned to the door of the Captain’s quarters, where he could hear faint conversation. Quickly, he moved to pretend to be busy with Pike’s array of Vulcan appetizers, keeping his head down. He could hear the other man chuckling, but did not dare to catch his eye.

For the occasion, Jim had made himself undecorated, which felt entirely uncomfortable, but Vulcans had particular opinions about omega ornamentation. If he were to serve his purpose without drawing undue attention, then he would need to blend into the background.

The door swished open, and in walked T’Pring with Spock sluggishly trailing behind. Sneaking a glance, he could tell by Spock’s sheepish expression that he had not admitted anything to T’Pring. It was also the first time Jim had seen human Spock in faux pointed ears. They were entirely wrong, and either T’Pring simply ignored the problem or did not pay Spock enough attention. What Jim hoped for was that T’Pring was stressed and paying more attention to everything else rather than her fiancé’s strange appearance.

“James,” T’Pring spoke with surprise.

He replied, “So Spock didn’t tell you I’d be here.”

“No,” T’Pring replied flatly. “But I should not be surprised, and I did not forget of our plans. However, all that must wait as my parents will arrive at any moment.”

“Yes, I was asked to be here to…assist in hosting,” Jim said.

“He is learning all aspects of what it means to be First Officer,” Pike said.

“You are naked,” said Spock.

Jim’s hand carefully caressed his naked ear and face. “Yes, Vulcans…”

“An appropriate choice, I appreciate your consideration,” T’Pring nodded her head. “However, next time I urge you to remain as you are. My parents must be faced with difference if they are ever to grow.”

Spock stared at T’Pring, confused, and Jim merely sighed because his own mate underestimated his fiancée. The pair stood close together, T’Pring positioned them just so in front of the door, and brushed off invisible lint from Spock’s robes. The exact robes he had worn to their first meeting. Engagement dinner indeed.

“Jim,” Amanda called after the retreating omega.

After the V’Shal ritual ended with much emotion and confrontation, Jim had hoped to escape with his head down and little conversation from either side. But he couldn’t just ignore the mother of the man he was mated to. So, he stopped and turned with a weary smile.

“Dr. Grayson,” he acknowledged.

The woman took his arm in hers and began to stroll through the empty nighttime halls. He did not feel comfortable breaking their companionable silence, so he kept his head down as they moved in step. Still uncomfortable with his nakedness, how he left the situation with La’An, and the end of Spock’s engagement dinner. Together, they found a small observation deck devoid of other visitors. There they stood and took in the Enterprise’s breathtaking view of its orbit around Vulcan.

“May I speak freely with you, Jim?” Amanda asked.

“Of course.”

“Spock has explained to me the unique situation between you two. Provided me with a little context of why your relationship is so…complex,” Amanda confessed. “Now, before you curse him for sharing personal details, I was the first person contacted when he went into rut a year ago. It was quite a surprise.”

The woman fell silent for a moment to collect herself. “Sarek, Spock’s father, was told, of course, and we felt fear for what might happen to him given his unique…biology. The first rut he was safe, but who was to say the subsequent ruts would not cause considerable issues? Spock did not share much of anything either. Though I am unsure if that was because he felt shame or there was little information to be shared.”

Amanda turned to Jim, reached up to cup his face, and held his shoulder. “None of us knew what would become of his career or relationship to T’Pring. And then, Spock informed me he had been matched. All I felt was relief.”

Jim gave a slow nod. There was a lot he did not know about Vulcan biology. Perhaps a rut could be much more dangerous for a Vulcan. Some unique aspects of their reproductive cycles could make his mate’s hybrid biology more complicated. But Jim could not dwell on unknowns that served no real purpose. Spock had been fine during his rut with Jim. The Vulcan was not the issue—Jim was.

In an effort to change the subject, Jim said, “Thank you.”

“For what exactly?” Amanda asked, amused.

“The sweater,” Jim replied, “it helped when I was on my ship away from Spock.”

“Well, of course.” Amanda stroked his cheek with a coy smile. Then she parted and returned to her observation of Vulcan. “It may help you here, too. Especially if you plan to be in relationships with other alphas.”

Jim cleared his throat of discomfort.

“It’s okay for an omega to play the field even with his match. Especially when I see that my son has been doing very well for himself.”

An ugly laugh burst out of Jim, and he had to turn away to settle himself.

“Honestly, it is quite the relief he is not so introverted. Here I was worried he would never experience romance, but now he’s messing up three relationships simultaneously!”

“You must be very proud,” Jim snickered.

“Well, proud is not the word I would use,” Amanda smiled brightly.

Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief, Jim had seen in Spock’s own. He shifted back to look at the woman with more consideration. Big dark brown eyes, beyond expressive, and a soft mouth filled with humor, though she tried to suppress the emotion on her visage. Spock looked so much like his mother that he could hardly believe the alpha might reflect any aspect of his father aside from the distinct Vulcan physiology he possessed.

“Does Spock look anything like his father?” Jim wondered aloud.

Amanda laughed, and Jim smiled slightly, seeing her cheeks flushed. “So much. I hardly see any resemblance to me.”

“Well, I’d argue he’s all you,” Jim chuckled softly and felt himself flush in kind.

Amanda gently reached and took Jim’s hand into her own and just held it in her grasp, examining his palm with careful consideration. “You have been good for Spock, so I should say thank you.”

“I’d disagree,” Jim snorted.

“I’m sure you would,” Amanda hummed, “but it isn’t that you saved my son’s life or that he’s saving yours. Or that you’re saving his career. I can just see a future I had never believed he’d have before, and for that I need to thank you.”

Jim swallowed and gave a slow nod. “It's not me that has had that influence—you should be thanking Nurse Chapel.”

“Now, Jim…” Amanda spoke with disbelief. Before she could continue, Spock’s voice filled the small room where he called his mother from the entryway. The pair turned to look at the other and parted. “Spock,” his mother greeted.

“I’ve come to walk you to the transporter and bid you farewell.”

She gave a single nod before she returned her attention to Jim. “Do not sell yourself so short; otherwise, I will believe you are terrible for my son,” Amanda whispered. At least Spock was polite enough to linger in the entrance and pretend he did not hear their conversation.  

Amanda parted from Jim then and walked away with Spock arm in arm. For what felt all too long, Jim stood, staring through the clear plates out into space. Hazel eyes, taking stock of Vulcan alone. He doubted there would be a time he would be able to visit. Jim would not be welcome as it was. Especially, not after what Spock had said at his own engagement dinner.

Though Spock had not said what was necessary because of their relationship, as it had been about Spock and his mother, his ancestors. Jim’s humanity and Spock’s physiological connection made him more of a pariah to his own people. The Vulcan would not be welcome because his human half was not welcome. Therefore, Jim, the embodiment of an archaic past that Vulcans had forced humans to grow from, was a reminder of the untamed being Vulcan logic sought to control.

“James,” a melodic voice disrupted Jim’s thoughts.

He turned enough to glance at T’Pring before returning to his observation. The soft clicks of heels tapped muted on the carpeted floor. Beside Jim, she stood, unfazed by his silent contemplation. Perhaps this was the most “Vulcan” she would ever see him.

T’Pring asked, “What do you think of Vulcan?”

“Hard to say, not sure I will ever be welcome,” Jim mused.

“Probably not for a long time, not as you should be, at least.” A reminder that Jim had unnecessarily cut a part of himself to appease a part of Spock’s. An aspect Spock had thusly reprimanded, though, not for Jim’s benefit, but Amanda’s. After a moment, when it was clear Jim had nothing to say in response, T’Pring said, “But I endeavor to ensure when your time comes, you are welcome and appreciated.”

Jim smiled a little and looked at the woman. “It was Spock’s own choice to keep you in the dark—a choice none of us expected. We had thought you knew.”

T’Pring nodded solemnly. “Well, it was a choice he made.” She turned to him, and Jim met her and found a package offered up to him. “Despite that choice, and its consequences, I still would like you to have this.”

With careful hands, Jim took the beautifully wrapped package from her delicate hands into his own. He bowed his head slightly in thanks. “My gift for you should be among your belongings. I had a feeling, given Spock’s condition, the night would not end as we had hoped.”

The Vulcan woman bowed her own head. “Keep in touch, James Kirk. There will come a time when Spock’s Vulcan biology will usurp, and you will need appropriate guidance.”

As vague as her warning was, Jim appreciated it nevertheless. Spock would likely never divulge the secret sexuality of Vulcans, so T’Pring’s assurance warmed him. Her hand rose and carefully rested on Jim’s cheek with little force. Jim bent down enough that they were at eye level. The Vulcan, surprising Jim, leaned in to kiss his cheek very softly before she parted.

“You are appreciated. Ensure he appreciates you,” T’Pring said. “I love him deeply, but I fear his love for me is not of the greatest importance to him. So, when he finds that he loves you, do not make my mistakes.”

“I can hardly believe you ever made a mistake,” Jim breathed.

“Do not allow him to walk all over you,” T’Pring said sternly. “Put yourself first. Make sure that his ambitions align with yours and that while you fall deeper in love with the stars, he falls deeper in love with you.”

Jim’s breath was caught in his throat, stunned, almost speechless.

“Please listen to me, James. Learn from me. Spock’s bondmate to Spock’s bondmate.”

In the morning silence of his room, Jim took extra time to put each piece of his uniform on. Refusing to look in a mirror or acknowledge the laid-out jewelry he was meant to adorn. It felt as if his life had suddenly become not his own, connected and maintained by people beyond himself. While his identity remained, he felt…empty. Perhaps T’Pring had a point, and not just about Spock, but about who Jim allowed to be poured into. Exhaustion weighed heavily in his body, but the Enterprise would leave the Vulcan system and lead them to other stars known and unknown. A bold future, Jim could pour into instead.

The door to his modest room opened. Spock’s steps were hesitant and quiet as they closed the distance, though he did not have far to go. There was reluctance when Spock laid his hand on the back of Jim’s neck. Long fingers wrapped around, and the tips pressed into his aching bondmark.

“Did you enjoy your night with Nurse Chapel?” Jim couldn’t help but sound jealous. “Celebrate your freedom?”

Spock removed his hand only so he could sit beside Jim and rest it on his thigh. “Jealousy is unbecoming of you.”

Jim shrugged.

“Allow me to help you put your jewelry back in and take you to breakfast.”

With a soft sigh, Jim looked up to Spock finally and saw the alpha he suddenly felt so overwhelmed by. “Fine,” he acquiesced.

“How was your time with La’An?”

“It was,” Jim frowned, “you know, I think I made a mistake.”

“Why have you come to this conclusion?”

“Sexual incompatibility.”

“That is more than I ever expected to know about La’An,” Spock replied with amusement.

“You asked.”

“I did.” Silence filled the space as Spock carefully began his work. “May I make an inquiry?

“You may.”

“This is not the entirety of your collection. Where is the rest?”

“You mean the gifts from past partners?” The Vulcan gave a hum of affirmation. “Well…” Jim sighed, hesitant about answering. Then he opted to lie, despite how Spock’s fingers grazed his skin. It was not as though he had never lied before, while his alpha could feel his surface emotions. “I left the rest in storage. I only brought what I thought I might need to the Enterprise.”

Spock met his eye, but did not bother to call him out on his lie. Jim could not know why the Vulcan gave him a pass for once, but he was thankful, nevertheless. When Spock completed his task, he gathered a set of rings he had given Jim before their last separation and began to place them carefully on each finger.

“Your body piercings…”

“Will need to be put in as well,” Jim replied, trying to remain focused on keeping his body unresponsive to the warmth of the Vulcan’s electric touch.

“That may have to wait…”

“Why?” Jim frowned.

Spock looked up at Jim with half-lidded eyes and said, “I am unsure we have enough time this morning.”

“Oh,” Jim breathed out and felt his body heat despite himself. “Well, we could—”

“We will not skip breakfast just to satiate our desire for sexual intimacy,” Spock interrupted and stroked Jim’s cheek.

Then, after a quiet moment of the pair sitting in tenuous silence, the Vulcan leaned in close. Every day, they toed the line. Closer to changing their dynamic irreparably. Jim swallowed, always ready to dive headfirst into every relationship except the one he had with Spock. T’Pring’s warnings echoed in his mind. A cautious approach was necessary when it came to being involved with Spock. The Vulcan was magnetic, and he hardly thought of himself capable of such magnetism, but he drew people in so easily. Jim would have to strike a careful balance between Christine’s avoidance, T’Pring’s depth of love and bond, and his own willingness to be seduced and romanced.

“Right,” Jim sighed. Rather than close the distance between their lips, Jim turned his head down and parted from the gentle hand that cradled his face. “So, you and Nurse Chapel are closer now?”

“I am unsure how to categorize it. We have not discussed much in-depth, admittedly.”

“Well,” Jim shrugged, “you two have been playing around, and I assume last night was like…a tipping point for you two?”

“Your jealousy is not well disguised by your curiosity,” Spock remarked.

Jim pulled away and huffed, gathering his PADD and communicator. “Saying I am jealous doesn’t make it true, Spock. Every time you say it, I think you want me to be jealous. As if we aren’t going to be bondmates in a month. What would I have to be jealous of?”

And truly, what did Jim have to be jealous of? He had Spock almost whenever he wanted. Their careers and lives were tied together. T’Pring could not have what Jim and Spock had, but Jim could have what Spock and T’Pring had. Then there was whatever sort of Pandora’s box of a relationship Nurse Chapel and Spock had that Jim was sure he definitely did not need.

Spock shuffled behind him, his hands on Jim’s hips and his lips to the uniform-covered bondmark. “Perhaps I am projecting because I feel jealousy,” he whispered.

“Jealousy over who? La’An?” Jim huffed.

“Yes,” Spock said honestly.

A small snort left Jim, and he glanced over his shoulder to meet Spock’s eyes curiously. “Well, don’t worry, I just said—”

“Is sexual incompatibility really the reason you feel you can no longer continue with that relationship?” Spock interrupted. There was a glint in his eye. After destroying his engagement dinner the night before, and deepening his relationship with Nurse Chapel, it seemed he was on the warpath. Throwing caution to the wind. “I had assumed your first night you would have discovered the incompatibility, not…several weeks later.”

With a shrug, Jim “How about breakfast? I am sure your stomach is messed up from the meat you ate, which…I really don’t understand why you would do that.”

When he turned to look at the Vulcan, raising a mocking eyebrow, Spock only shrugged in response. A shrug. Jim blinked. Wondering what had come over the Vulcan. Had being human for almost a full day really changed Spock in such strange ways that it resulted in long-lasting effects on his sense of self? Rather than dwell on the thought and spiral, Jim opened the door to his small quarters and led them out. They needed to get on with their day. The omega would monitor his alpha for strange behavior as long as he could.

Sat on a bio-bed with legs swinging, Jim twisted the rings on his fingers.

“There’s hardly a week until your heat was supposed to occur,” Nurse Chapel said as she walked over with her PADD and tricorder.

“Right,” Jim swallowed. “But…”

“But we should arrive at Starbase 1 in a day.”

“What about Spock’s rut?”

“Well, considering your condition, I have been monitoring his hormones, and it is highly unlikely that he will go into rut,” Nurse Chapel informed. “But, if he does, we know from his first rut that he can be sedated.”

“So, because I’m—”

“There are a lot of reasons a rut could not be on the horizon,” Nurse Chapel interrupted. “When Spock became human, that could have reset his cycle. Even the persistence of the bondmark on your gland could alter his cycle. It is difficult to say with any real assurance.”

“Sorry, Bones’ recipe didn’t work,” Jim muttered.

“Well, you two are very compatible, stands to reason your body might resist.” Nurse Chapel looked up from her PADD and looked at Jim with true affection and kindness. They were not friends, but it was not as though they were rivals. “Despite my many attempts at replication and alterations, your allergies to modern medicine make all this very difficult. And because I do not have the equipment or the certifications to actually do archaeological medicine on you, it’s for the best we drop you off Starbase 1, where the situation can be resolved in a safe, more controlled environment.”

At least it was the end of his time stationed on the Enterprise. Though those closest to him and Spock would find it strange Jim left before they shared a heat-rut, no one else would think to question it. Jim sighed and tried to peek at her PADD, where his information was being stored. Nurse Chapel looked at Jim with scientific scrutiny. Not once had she ever looked at him as if he were a competitor or a nuisance. Either she was incredibly good at compartmentalization, or she was not threatened by Jim’s relationship with Spock in the least.

“I didn’t tell him,” Jim admitted.

“Oh,” she looked genuinely surprised, and disappointed. “Then I will do my best to lie convincingly to a touch telepath.”

He sighed roughly. “This is weird.”

“Yes,” Nurse Chapel said with a humored smile. “But we all make it work.”

Jim gave her a look of disbelief.

“Okay, I make it work and you two make it weird, but I’ve always thought alphas and omegas were weird, so…”

“You’re the strangest beta I’ve met, if that means something,” Jim sighed.

Nurse Chapel snorted and took one last scan before tucking the tricorder away in its compartment that hung from her shoulder and held the PADD behind her back. “You look healthy enough considering. When you return, I have already asked that Dr. McCoy make you bring back physical samples of his recipes.”

“If they work…” Jim muttered.

“Well, I hadn’t even thought that the alternative was possible,” Chapel said with wonderment.

“You did not inform me you would be leaving,” Spock said, a small wrinkle between his brows and a frown at the corners of his lips.

“I am sorry, I don’t have a choice. The Enterprise is not equipped with the necessary tools needed for my procedure.”

“That simply does not seem possible. Christine is well-versed—”

“She tried,” Jim interrupted. “Many times, mind you. My allergies are too complex, and so I have to leave.” Spock was unconvinced. But Jim was not a trained liar; he would have to improve.

“What about my rut?”

“Nurse Chapel assured me that you are not near your time. That whole human fiasco messed up your cycle.” At least that was not a lie, but also not the whole truth. “And you can safely be sedated if it comes down to it. Remember, I’m the one with a weird body. So, everything is all in hand.”

“What about your heat?”

Jim shook his head. “As I said, it’s all in hand. Plus, with your mate bite, your messed up cycle messed mine up—”

“Then more reason for you to remain on board just in case—”

“As I said, the procedure must be done—”

“Then I will take leave so I can accompany you.”

“Spock,” Jim raised his voice, the sound rough. “I will be fine. All the risks were weighed by my attending physicians, and did not require either of our inputs. Obviously, my preference would be to remain on the Enterprise. With you. However, it didn’t shake out that way.”

Spock stared with scrutinizing judgment. Jim stared back at him with minor exhaustion. “I must admit, you have not been yourself.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Neither have you, but at least I don’t point it out right before you’re about to have some weird experimental procedure.”

“The more you speak of this procedure, the more concerned I become.”

“You are concerned anytime Una lets me take over her functions on the bridge or when I have my regular check-ups with Nurse Chapel.”

Spock took Jim’s face in his hands, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs. “Is it not normal that I worry over my omega? You must remember our relationship developed because you have a chronic, unmanageable illness.”

Jim heated and closed his eyes to control his heart rate. “I won’t die. Bones would invent necromancy just to forcibly keep me alive after all the trouble I’ve caused him.”

“Yes, as would I. Much effort has been put into your health, so I—”

“So, you will let me go to Starbase 1 with no complaints so Bones can put me back in working order.”

“Well, I could not prevent you if I wanted to.”

Jim smiled and sighed, leaning into the hand with affection. “How about I let you fuck me tonight leave my scent in your bed and room?”

“Will you wear an item of my clothing?”

With an almost shy nod and smile, Jim parted to remove his clothes while Spock rummaged in his closet to pull out a sweater. It seemed Dr. Grayson had a hobby that ensured Spock was fully stocked with a variety of soft wool knits. So, Jim accepted the item and pulled it over his otherwise naked body. Spock sat on the edge of the bed in just his black silk sleepwear and gazed up at Jim in wait.

“I’m guessing you’re keeping your clothes on—”

“To preserve your scent, yes,” Spock finished.

Jim felt his body heat. Warming to the thought alone. Imagining the Vulcan using the sweater covered in Jim’s scent of lust and desire while he was away made his cocklett hard and his cunt drip. Without further delay, Jim straddled Spock, his arms came around his shoulders, and the Vulcan’s hands slid under the sweater to take hold of his hips. Sat in the alpha’s lap, they stared at one another, their breaths mingled in the Vulcan warm room that pricked Jim’s skin with sweat. Delicate hands slid up Jim’s back before digits pressed into his spine and dragged down. Jim released a groan. His eyes fluttered shut, and he dropped his head to press his nose in the crook of Spock’s neck. Thick work-worn hands moved down the silk wrap shirt the Vulcan wore until they dipped down to carefully pull out the alpha’s prick from his trousers. Jim’s lips moved up Spock’s neck, his hand stroked the Vulcan until his dick was lubricated and hard.

Lips reached the underside of Spock’s jaw, and he hesitated as he parted, his nose brushed against Spock’s. Jim could feel the other watching him as his half-lidded eyes looked at Spock’s lips. They wanted the same thing; the omega could feel it. Afraid of what he might do, Jim pressed his forehead to Spock’s as he rose up and sank slowly on the alpha’s prick. Once he pushed past the doubled ridges, the omega paused, thighs flexed to hold him in the teasing position. Thankfully, the Vulcan’s hands moved down his back to wrap around the underside of his ass to help the omega hold his weight up. Spock’s lips parted as he tried to keep his breath steady while Jim panted against the alpha’s open mouth.

It was too much, having Spock so close, still feeling the gentle pulse of his alpha’s emotions in his almost faded bite. Jim could feel the Vulcan’s hot breath, his slick prick, warm and careful hands. They were supposed to be professional; Jim was supposed to be cautious. Perhaps it was instinct or the reason he was about to go to Starbase 1, but Jim could not hold the only professional line they had drawn any longer.

As he finally sank to the hilt, his hands slid back up Spock’s chest and clasped behind his neck as they moaned into each other’s mouths. It was the pleasure that sent him over the edge. Jim kissed Spock. His tongue pushed into the Vulcan’s mouth to taste him. And where he expected hesitancy, he received enthusiastic reciprocity.

A hand slid into Spock’s hair, tightening while the other clung to his shoulders to press their chests together. The Vulcan’s arms wrapped around Jim’s torso, holding him impossibly close as their mouths danced. It was impossible to move, and so Jim’s cunt twitched around the fullness of the alpha’s prick as they learned how to kiss properly. Kiss outside of their heat-rut. Taste each other without any real goal other than to finally be able to.

Then, Jim began to grind his hips, wishing to move, but unable to with Spock’s hold. And so, the Vulcan loosened his grip so Jim could finally rock his hips up and down the length of Spock’s cock. Something had shifted between them, that much was clear. Jim broke the flood gates, and they breathed into each other’s mouths as if oxygen could not be found anywhere else. Kissing and licking. Whatever changed didn’t matter. Not when Spock surrounded him and penetrated him more fully than ever before.

The pair parted their lips to suck in real air, staring at one another as their chests heaved. Spock’s grip loosened, and his hands moved outside the sweater, gliding up to press the soft wool into Jim’s perspiring armpits and down his sides. Jim dropped his head back still sucking in air while his alpha held his back with one hand as he leaned backward. The other hand moved down the front of the sweater, rubbed right under Jim’s swollen, pierced pectoral, pulling gasping moans from the newly bouncing omega as he collected the sweat with the sweater. Spock’s hand moved further down to stroke Jim’s cocklett. The soft fabric wrapped around his small prick made Jim buck up into the fist Spock made with it. His pre-squirt slicking the wool knit. It was filthy, but it all felt exactly right. Just what they needed.

Thick fingers dug into Spock’s back and Jim continued to rock his hips on his alpha’s prick, fucking into the wool fist. The Vulcan’s hand moved back up Jim’s back to cradle his head to pull him into a kiss. After all, what hesitancy did Spock need to have if Jim was the one who blew up the dam? The omega fell into a haze, surrounded by Spock’s scent, his touch, his rough tongue. The Vulcan’s perfect control seemed shattered. One boundary seemingly was all the difference between controlled procedural sex between matched duos and uninhibited messy sex between mates. But they weren’t really mates, not yet. They weren’t really anything at all. And yet…

In what felt like no time Jim orgasmed around Spock’s prick, his cunt spasmed and tightened as his cocklett squirted into the sweater. His moan, loud and long, into his alpha’s mouth. Before Jim could come down from his high, Spock lifted him off his prick and flipped them so Jim lay on his back, gasping and whining from the loss of pleasurable intimacy.

“Spock, what are you doing?” Jim protested and tried to sit up. The Vulcan knelt by Jim’s feet where he tucked his hard prick back into his silk sleep trousers. “Wait, what are you doing?!”

He sat up with more motivated vigor and tried to reach for Spock. The Vulcan knee walked between Jim’s legs and took hold of his reaching hands. With unrestrained strength, his alpha pulled him to sit up and captured his lips. Jim gave muffled protests until Spock’s clever tongue and sharp teeth distracted him from his loss. Once the omega felt himself calm, the alpha parted, eyes watched Jim as his lips traveled along his jaw to teasingly lick along the decorated shell of his ear.

“Take the sleeve of your sweater and soak it with your wet cunt,” Spock whispered in his ear. “I want to smell every part of you that I will miss.”

Jim moaned wantonly and turned his head to capture Spock’s mouth again. His legs moved to rest overtop the Vulcan’s thighs, leaning against him as he did as he was told. Perhaps it would stretch out the sleeve for him to cover most of his hand, but Spock had made a request, and Jim could only comply. He rubbed himself, panting and whining against Spock’s mouth as he soaked the sleeve with his slick. When it seemed he had dried himself up, his other hand joined, fingering himself. However, Jim grew frustrated with the angle and sobbed with unfulfilled pleasure.

“Please, Spock,” Jim whispered against his lips as if it were the Vulcan that tortured him.

“Tell me what you want,” his alpha commanded, “You know I want you to be explicit.”

“I want your fingers inside of me,” replied Jim. “I want them deep, fucking me, making me wet.”

Spock did as Jim asked and slipped his fingers through the lips of Jim’s cunt before slowly pushing in with two long digits. The omega moaned and tightened around the intrusion, and Spock moaned alongside him. Fingers curled and stroked the omega’s channel where they were buried deep. The vibration of the Vulcan’s pleasure sent a shiver through Jim’s body, and he gushed slick, eliciting another deep rumbling moan from the alpha. His fingers began to thrust in and out of Jim, provoking more wanton sounds from the omega. A third finger added to spread him open, and Jim clung to Spock with his free hand while the other gathered slick and rubbed his cocklett with the sweater.

“That’s it, omega, I want your slick, I want your scent,” Spock coaxed.

“How…how does it feel? With your fingers?” Jim whispered.

“Silky, warm, welcoming,” Spock whispered. “I can feel your emotions, but your pleasure is what is most clear to me.”

“Oh,” Jim moaned. “It’s…electric, the warmth at the tips of your fingers.” He spasmed more around the dexterous fingers until the omega was surprised, gushing from his cunt and squirting from his tortured cocklett. Jim fell back as a second orgasm was pulled from him without warning. With a smug expression, Spock pulled his fingers out, and Jim’s arms and legs sagged, lying spread-eagled on the bed again. Half-lidded hazel eyes peered at Spock. With parted panting lips, Jim asked, “When are you going to cum inside me again?”

“Is that what you need?”

The alpha wanted to torture him, punish the omega for keeping him in the dark. Jim was sure that was true, but he would take Spock’s torture. Without shame, the omega said, “I need you to mark me with your cum, inside, tonight and tomorrow.

“If that is your wish, just allow me to complete the task at hand.”

The Vulcan started from Jim’s ankle, where he kissed at the gland and the golden anklet he had gifted the other. Jim twitched and quietly complained about how slow Spock moved up his body. Lips kissed and sucked at the inguinal junction, making Jim squirm. But he couldn’t close his legs around Spock’s head because the Vulcan held his plush thighs down. The alpha’s mouth kissed around Jim’s glistening cunt, but not quite giving him any tangible pleasure. He parted from Jim and his hands once again smoothed the sweater down over his torso from his shoulders down to his hips. Then, hands carefully slid up underneath the sweater as Spock kissed up Jim’s torso with quiet adoration. The kind Jim hardly felt he deserved but desperately wanted.

“Are you sure your heat is not near?”

“Why do you ask?” Jim whispered.

“Your weight is the healthiest I have ever seen it.” Spock pushed the sweater under Jim’s chin and squeezed his plump pectorals as if to make a point.

“You going to say you love my tits again, Spock?” Jim asked.

An exhale prickled Jim’s sweat-damp skin, and he knew the Vulcan had laughed. “As if you do not enjoy how I see and take pleasure in your body.” Thumbs brushed over his nipples repeatedly, and they tightened in reaction; Jim’s chest arched under the attention. Lips wrapped around one, and Jim’s legs wrapped around Spock’s waist, grinding up against him, asking for what Spock said he would give. “But I do love your tits.”

Jim groaned and tugged the sweater off. “I’ve been eating regularly like you wanted,” he answered and tugged at Spock’s shirt. “Come on, I’m tired of being the only naked one here.”

With Spock’s mouth busy with Jim’s nipples, his hand moved to open his silk wrap shirt so Jim could get it off. While Jim worked his wrap off, Spock fought with his pants and pulled his prick out to push into the omega to keep him satiated so he could get his pants all the way off. Once inside and with full skin-to-skin contact, Spock lost himself in the feel of thrusting in and out of the tight omega. Jim moaned happily, his fingers tangled in Spock’s hair to keep him pressed between his plush pectorals with his legs wrapped tight around Spock’s torso. Heels dug into the alpha’s lower back to keep the Vulcan’s prick deep for as long as he could between thrusts. The alpha’s hot breath wet his sweaty chest, and his hands pushed the pecs together so he could messily mouth at the flesh. Spock growled in frustration as he fucked and ground his hips into Jim.

When the omega realized what the alpha wanted, he aimed to soothe Spock. “Don’t worry about knotting me,” Jim whispered. He pulled the Vulcan from his chest so they could kiss. “Just want to feel you cum. Please, Spock…” He kissed him again with more force, shaking as his third orgasm quickly approached. “Please, alpha, cum in me.”

It was then that Spock did, thrusting through his orgasm, with Jim wrapped around him, their lungs sharing air as they reached their final climax.

Chapter Text

“Come in.”

Spock entered the CoS office and remained at attention as the door closed behind him. “Lieutenant, I apologize for my intrusion, but might I request—”

“Starbase 1 security cameras are pulled up, come sit with me and watch,” La’An interrupted and put the main camera she had pulled up on the larger viewscreen. “Who is that man?”

Together, they observed Jim pulling an older man into a hug and scented him in public without shame. “Doctor Leonard McCoy, Jim’s primary physician when he was at the Academy prior to our meeting.” However, McCoy did not appear too pleased with Jim’s behavior. Eventually, they did part and began to walk. The cameras continued to switch, and Spock stole a glance at La’An. “Did Jim inform you why he had to go to Starbase 1?”

“I thought he would have told you,” La’An replied with surprise.

“So, you have been informed?”

“No, he has been avoiding me, actually.”

Spock tilted his head as he watched La’An switch cameras again as Jim and Dr. McCoy entered the medical facility. “He has been avoidant with me as well.”

La’An gave Spock a look of disbelief.

“We have been physically intimate, yes,” Spock conceded because Jim's avoidance of his alpha was different than Jim, who avoided a romantic partner. “However, he has been disinterested in conversation.”

“Were you two ever conversational? I was under the impression your relationship was solely physical,” La’An said, matter-of-factly.

Spock visibly frowned as he watched Jim and McCoy argue. “Is there sound?”

“Wouldn’t it be an invasion of privacy to listen?” she questioned.

Raising a single eyebrow, Spock looked at La’An. “You believe what we are doing now is not?”

Sound cut through the silent room, filling the office with the quiet bustle of the Starbase hospital, the beeping of monitors, and the swooshing of doors. Though it reminded Spock of his time on Starbase 5, he was able to keep focus as he heard Jim’s voice. Perhaps he would have to meditate on the memories later. If all went well, Spock considered divulging his experience to try to better understand Jim.

“I don’t want to stay in the hospital!” Jim burst as they stood before the empty front desk.

“Jim,” Dr. McCoy attempted to placate, “you have to stay for observation.”

“What happened to a little pill and everything’s fine?” Jim huffed.

“The little pill didn’t work, and the hypo didn’t work, and the other treatments Nurse Chapel came up with. So, now it’s time to get experimental by bringing in a specialist in medical archaeology so we can try to—”

“Shush!” Jim put his hands over Leonard’s mouth.

The doctor grabbed Jim’s arms and tugged them down. “Why are you shushing me? You’re the one who’s all worked up! And in your state—”

“We are being watched and listened to,” Jim hissed.

Spock wanted to commend the microphones in the security system, but it was also quite alarming to know they could all be watched so closely and easily. He had never considered that the Federation and Starfleet to act as a surveillance state. Though he had hardly processed what had occurred on Starbase 5, it may not have been a surprise to him had he already examined those traumas.

Dr. McCoy had been laughing in mock of Jim’s paranoia. He began to say, “Oh, come on, who’s gonna…” It was then that both Jim and Dr. McCoy gazed up at several cameras before two pairs of eyes focused specifically on the one La’An had decided to watch through. “They wouldn’t,” Dr. McCoy said in weak protest.

“Oh,” Jim laughed without humor, “they would.”

“That’s an invasion of privacy!” Jim and Dr. McCoy stared at each other for a long moment. Then Dr. McCoy said, “The fact that I will have to inform security that there’s a breach in their system because your alphas…and I mean alphas plural—”  

“Or!” Jim interrupted. “You could just talk how we’ve been—”

“Come on, the medical staff are professionals, Jim, do you know how ridiculous it would be to censor their speech?” There was a quiet beat when Dr. McCoy seemed to have an epiphany. He said, “Wait, you want them to watch?”

“Ugh,” Jim covered his face.

“You are the most avoidant person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” Dr. McCoy complained. “Instead of playing fucked up mind games you could just communicate with both of them!”

“It’s not that easy! Can you please just…leave it alone?”

The physician then looked at the camera again with a severely disapproving frown. “Fine,” Dr. McCoy said all the while staring down the interlopers through the video feed. Spock did not look forward to the next time they were in the same room. The video feed was cut. It seemed La’An had not enjoyed being telepathically berated by Dr. McCoy either.

“Look, how about we don’t bother him with whatever he’s doing?” La’An suggested.

Spock looked at her and realized she had become thoughtful and reticent. “You have already come to a conclusion,” the Vulcan surmised.

“Yes,” La’An admitted.

“Do you plan to share this deduction with me?”

“No, if Jim wanted to keep everything private, then that is what I will continue to do. It is my job as Chief of Security, after all, I keep secrets.”

“Greetings, Jim.”

“Hi, Spock,” the omega sighed with a fond smile.

“What is the time of day for you on Starbase 1?”

“2423,” Jim answered. “How about you?”

“2030. Should you not be resting?” Spock asked.

“It’s not that late. Besides, I don’t sleep well in medical facilities,” Jim replied. There was a thoughtful moment before the omega grew bashful and said in a softer voice, “And…we keep missing each other, so I’ll take the small sleep deficit to spend some time with you.”

“I empathize. I, too, find myself unable to find rest in medical facilities.” Spock studied Jim through the viewscreen. “Jim, how are you?”

He exhaled; his visage was that of exhaustion as he stared groggily into the small portable viewscreen. “Tired, how are you?”

“I am…well enough,” Spock sighed. “Perhaps a little bored—”

Jim interrupted with a gasp, “Bored? Mr. Spock, I had no idea that was possible.” There was a toothy smile that peeked from Spock’s lips. “Woah? You’re like…smiling but bigger. I mean, you do that—smiling—but…not like that.”

The grin disappeared. “Apologies, I have been in the midst of trying something new.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

 “What were you expecting?”

“You,” Jim said simply with a frown.

“And you are displeased with me?”

“No,” Jim sighed exasperated. “No, I am tired. Displeased with the situation.”

“May I ask when you anticipate your return?”

Jim shrugged, “It was supposed to be weeks ago, but more problems, of course. I don’t really understand—I think there’s an outside party trying to involve themselves, but it…”

“It lacks logic and therefore exacerbates your exhaustion and condition.”

“Exactly,” Jim agreed. “I regret not asking you to be here.” That was almost as astonishing as the omega almost saying he missed Spock. But of course, Jim could not manage to be sincere for even a second and said, “But I’d really hate to get in the way of you bossing my brother around, so…”

Spock chuckled, a toothy smile forcing its way again. Jim looked away. The Vulcan could not decipher if Jim was still unsure what to think of the alpha’s experiment or if he was distracted by the goings on in the hospital. So rather than feel shame or antagonize the tired omega, Spock said, “Your brother is well. He avoids me. Does he know your exact condition?”

“Yes,” Jim sighed, “Yes, I told Sam. But you better not interrogate him, or I’ll tell Una.”

“That is a very good threat. I would never want to be on Una’s bad side,” Spock hummed, eyebrows raised from the fear of Number One’s wrath alone.

“Una also knows,” Jim said, “Pike does not. Chapel obviously knows, La’An does not.”

“La’An seems to believe she knows.”

“Well, I hope not,” Jim pursed his lips. Again, he looked away, seemingly distracted. Spock would not remark upon it. The man was clearly exhausted and wanted some…company. His worried hazel eyes turned back to the viewscreen. “So, what are your conclusions about my condition?”

“I am not a physician, so I could not begin to know.”

“Spock…”

“There have been many conclusions drawn, and none seem probable, and only an impossible answer remains—so however improbable…”

“Well, that’s definitely not how the quote goes,” Jim laughed and winked at Spock. He appreciated that Jim knew his humor well enough. Anyone else might believe he truly did not know the proper recitation of the quote. Then, Jim sighed and shut his eyes. “Thanks for pretending you are clueless, but right now I wish I had made you come with me.”

“That is often what I do best in situations I am unsure of how to manage.”

Jim laughed, loud and expressive, breaking through his exhaustion. “For what it’s worth, I am glad you’re my mate.”

“You are not dying, Jim, do not be dramatic.”

“Well, jury’s out on that one to be honest.”

Then Spock quieted and chewed on a thought for a moment. “I cannot say that I should have insisted on being by your side because you are more stubborn than I am; however, your presence is missed.”

 The omega’s smile was melancholic. “Thanks for calling me, it feels lonely even with Bones around every corner.” Jim sighed and curled up against his pillow and the sweater Spock’s mother had gifted him. “It’s just that nothing has worked, and it’s really strange. Today I was told that the only option is surgical, and I am not looking forward to it.”

Very softly, Spock said, “But the surgical option is relatively quick?”

Jim frowned in contemplation. “It’s supposed to be, but…I would have to be monitored afterward anyway.”

“I do not understand why this could not be done on the Enterprise.”

A rough, annoyed sigh came from Jim. “Because I was not responding to standard treatments and my privacy was at stake as well as my health, according to Bones. I don’t know, I’ve learned to do as I’m told after over a month trapped in this hospital.” The omega paused to take a calming breath. “If I don’t do what I’m told, my position as First Officer is on the line.” Jim waved his hand. “Anyway, I’ll be cleared by the end of this week or next probably and be back on the Farragut again. At some point, we will intercept the Enterprise, and you’ll wish I were literally anywhere else." 

“I would say this is the most dramatic I have ever seen you, but…”

“My heats are way worse.”

“Speaking of…”

“Jury’s out on how bad it’ll be,” Jim hummed. “But we’re uh…well, it’ll be fixed so it won’t matter.”

Spock felt his face shift and his body heat with desire.

“Ugh,” Jim complained, “A smug Vulcan? Don’t you have rocks to scan?”

Spock chuckled. “You do seem tired; I will say goodbye for now…”

“Kirk! You should be asleep!” A distant, unfamiliar voice called.

“Who is that?” Spock inquired.

Jim flinched and sat up as best as he could to reach for the off button on the portable view screen. “It’s uh, it’s…don’t…”

“Kirk,” a woman walked in with a disapproving glower, with short straight blond hair. “Who wheeled this in for you?”

“Bones,” Jim scoffed, “It was the only time—”

“Well…” The woman disappeared from the shadows of the room and the view screen before she blocked Spock’s view. “Nice to see you, Mr. Spock. I’m Dr. Carol Marcus. Jim needs to sleep now.”

Chapter Text

“Lieutenant Kirk! Welcome back to the Enterprise,” Una greeted Jim as he materialized on the Enterprise.

“Thank you, Commander.” Jim smiled and found that his welcoming committee was small. “No Spock?”

“He's busy,” Una answered. “We'll find him later.”

“Wow, I feel a little bit like this is déjà vu,” Jim laughed as he looked over La’An. “At least you don’t owe me a drink this time.”

“Perhaps not, but you have certainly earned one,” La’An said with a small smile.

The pair had hardly spoken since Jim went on medical leave and subsequently returned to the Farragut. A decision that Jim had made despite Enterprise’s welcoming presence and many of its crew’s desires to have him aboard. But after everything, Jim needed space. He needed to think about what he wanted, what he was doing, and how he managed to get into the mess he had been in. Jim wanted to avoid repeated mistakes. So, there was tension that hung awkwardly in the air from his extreme lack of communication.

Jim turned his attention back to Una. “Thank you for allowing me and Mr. Spock to—”

“Lieutenant Kirk, that is the decision of our Captains, you do not need to thank me,” Una interrupted. Jim took the few steps to cross the transport room, eyeing Chief Kyle, who he knew was not at all discreet. “And, having you as my shadow was going very well. So, you are more than welcome on the Enterprise.”

Despite Una’s attempt to keep Jim’s complicated life discreet, he turned his focus to La’An and asked, “Do I need to submit to a security check?” The woman flushed prettily, and Jim remembered one of the many reasons why he had been enamored with her to begin with.

“If you do not mind, Commander?” La’An asked.

With a knowing look, Una smiled, “No, we will catch up soon enough, Lieutenant Kirk. Make sure to take him to the bridge when you are finished. And please be quick!”

Una left before La’An pulled herself together enough to lead Jim in tow. They were quiet as they walked, and discomfort filled the halls of the Enterprise. There was a distinct need in Jim to say something, and he could feel La’An wanted to do just the same, but in public…it was difficult to justify the sort of conversation they needed to have. Jim was shocked out of his thoughtful stupor when he was shoved into a glorified broom closet by La’An. With the door closed behind them, they were forced into what should have been uncomfortable proximity. Yet, as he watched the woman, he could see how erratically La’An breathed. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought she was going into rut and attempting to corner him. But he did know better and was concerned.

“Are you upset with me? With what I said our last time together?” La’An asked.

A frown morphed Jim’s concern into hesitancy. “Not sure this is the right moment for the conversation.”

“There will never be a right moment while you’re here. We need to talk,” La’An insisted.

In the enclosed space, he backed the woman up against the door, used his height to bend over her, dipping his face so he was a hairsbreadth away. He tilted his head just enough so that his height and scent distracted her. Though he realized the trick would not work all that well because of her augment ancestry. Still, there was something to be said for flirting even if the alpha wasn’t affected by pheromones because La’An seemed dizzy with how close he was. Or maybe, his pre-heat pheromones were overwhelming enough to affect the alpha.

“We will talk,” he assured quietly. Jim’s breath caressed her plump lips, which caused the small alpha to gasp with desire. Closing the distance, the omega pressed his lips to La’An’s just to ease her worries. Sometimes it was better to be kind than cruel, though, perhaps it was cruel to give her false hope. However, La’An did not deserve to be heartbroken in a broom closet. “Just not in here. Before my heat, when there is time, and there will be time, we will talk, I promise.”

La’An relaxed after the chaste kiss and ran her hands down Jim’s chest before she took his hands into her own. If she noticed that he did not wear her gifts, she kept it to herself. “I’m sorry, I have been worried since your departure. It was sudden for all of us.”

“And here I thought you eased your worries by watching the security feeds.”

Another flush spread across her cheeks, and a small flirtatious smile made the desire in her eyes obvious. “I still don’t know how you knew…”

Jim snorted, “Please, I know Spock and I know what people in security are like. Plus, you two were friends before I ever entered the picture, I can easily run the calculus on that.”

La’An laughed and reached up to stroke Jim’s cheek affectionately. “Well, I won’t apologize.”

“I didn’t expect that you would, but we really should be getting to the bridge. Alpha shift starts in five minutes.”

“Says the man who showed up fifteen minutes late,” La’An scoffed.

Jim let them both out of the broom closet to begin their journey to the bridge. “Oh, there were transport issues.”

“Was there really?” La’An said with skepticism.

A sly smile spread across Jim’s lips. “Yeah, they were training a cadet, and he forgot the math of it all. The transport officer was so deeply disappointed I had to help the cadet with the calculations—it was a whole thing.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well, we can’t all have the smartest cadets from the academy on our ships. The Enterprise is the flagship; everyone else just gets who they get,” Jim teased.

Inside the lift, they were swept by a strong pulse, and Jim could hear music swell around them. He looked down at La’An, who met his gaze wide-eyed. Thankfully, the woman had also felt the pulse and heard the same change in the air. Before they could speak to the computer, they arrived on the bridge, and La’An, without missing a beat, began to sing. Jim was stunned. Every officer on the bridge sang a song Jim did not know, all in perfect harmony. Everyone seemed perplexed, but Jim was the only one who did not sing. Did the crew notice? Had they planned this? He felt more insane than they looked.

Until his own harmony burst out of him, he couldn’t sing if it would save his life.

“So…that happened,” said Captain Pike.

In Christopher Pike’s conference room sat the Captain, Jim, La’An, Dr. M’Benga, and Number One. Then there was Spock, who stood behind Una at the opposite end of the table from where Jim sat. A reasonable distance, as all senior staff in the room had expressed their concerns regarding Jim and Spock’s proximity to each other. Given their four months apart, the worry was reasonable, given that the pair might prematurely trigger their cycles before the musical crisis was resolved. And because both were necessary for the success of solving the crisis, neither could suspend themselves from duty.

“Reports of musical outbreaks have come in from all decks,” La’An relayed.

“Honestly, I thought it was something you all rehearsed,” then Jim looked to Spock, who knew of his vocal deficits and said, “but then I sang too.”

Dr. M’Benga replied, “So did I, and I do not sing.”

With attention turned to Spock, Captain Pike said, “A surge came from your subspace fold. Help me connect the dots?”

“Ensign Uhura and I sent a series of transmissions through the subspace fold,” Spock began to explain, “The final one was a song.”

“You sent in a song, and then we all sang?” Una questioned, eyes focused upon her duo, Captain Pike.

He reciprocated her confusion, “Why are we singing?” His voice cracked, desperate to prevent another musical number.

“I believe the song created a resonant frequency and dislodged something from the fold, a quantum uncertainty field,” Spock answered.

Jim tried to focus on Pike’s mated alpha scent and La’An’s muted alpha scent to try to force his body to relax because, unfortunately, he did immensely enjoy when Spock talked science. Seeing his alpha in his element as Chief Science Officer made Jim’s body react very inappropriately. He was a sucker for competence.

“Okay,” Chris said with some incredulity. “Why would that make us sing?”

“Imagine an area of space where quantum uncertainties collapse so rapidly and randomly that new realities are created. In one such reality, people sing uncontrollably.”

As Spock spoke, Jim’s fingers moved against the metal tabletop, doing the math of what the Vulcan explained. Hoping that would distract his mind and body enough. Jim tried to imagine himself as a bored cadet who attended a lecture at the academy. The thought exercise was meant to trick his body out of its excitement and to reduce exposing those around him to his desire. Others did not need to suffer the consequences of knowing Jim admired his duo’s intellect in the most lascivious sense.

“A musical reality,” Chief Engineer Pelia said as she entered.

“Indeed,” Spock replied.

“So, what’s next—more improbability?” La’An asked. “Or will we just suddenly poof into bunnies?”

“I would prefer not to be a bunny, either,” Dr. M’Benga said exasperatedly as he looked to the ceiling.

“I doubt we will be bunnies,” said Spock. Chris appeared skeptical. “But we may not be done with singing.” Jim watched as long, delicate fingers collected the PADD and ran a model on the view-screen to further explain their situation. “Simulations reveal we have become tethered to this particular improbability field. Attempting to fly out would likely make it wider.”

While the simulation ran and all senior personnel watched the viewscreen, Jim’s eyes flickered between dexterous digits on the PADD and his own that continued to do quantum computations. He was trying to keep all his remarks to himself. It would be safer that way, especially sitting between two alphas who likely were positioned specifically to keep his behavior in check with his mate in the room.

“It looks like a zipper,” Pelia said, “Which begs the question, might it function like a zipper?”

“Zippers work both ways,” Chris replied. “Could we use it to close the improbability field back inside the fold?”

“Potentially, if we combined shield harmonics with the Heisenberg compensator. You’d have to connect both to the deflector array and generate a beam.”

The way Spock said that particular sentence made a jolt of electricity shoot through his body, and Jim just knew he would make the Vulcan repeat that sentence over and over. It was then he should have realized that there was something seriously wrong with him and that everyone could smell it, but Jim wouldn’t feel too guilty for finding his mate sexy. Later, he probably would feel guilty that La’An could smell him. However, what he concluded was that the crew of the Enterprise were very polite—or maybe professional was the right word. Because his crew on the Farragut would have sent him out of the room to calm down, even in a crisis. Perhaps that was the difference between a beta Captain and First Officer and a duo Captain and First Officer.

Una said, “That means connecting them manually.”

“Let’s do it, we don’t know how this singing will affect us, and I’d rather not find out. Best to nip it in the bud,” declared Captain Pike.

Unable to help himself, having kept quiet most of the meeting, Jim blurted, “Mr. Spock, you explained that very well. I almost understood it.” He smiled a close-lipped smile, knowing he would pay for his comment later.

“Alright, Kirk, with me,” Una stood up without delay.

“You know what is expected?” Spock asked Una, but his eyes focused on Jim, who was slower to stand.

“Lieutenant Kirk?” Una asked.

“Yes, I am sure we’ll be more than able with Ensign Uhura and Mr. Spock’s capable…minds,” Jim answered, holding Spock’s eye contact.

“Enough, you two,” Pike snapped, “give us one more day, I beg.”

Spock’s eyes darted to the viewscreen, and Jim quickly chased after Una. Out of the room, he was met with clean filtered air. With no one around trying to balance out his hormones, it was like having cold water dumped on him. And Jim was thankful for the physiological reset. Maybe he would have been less wound up if they had at least allowed Jim and Spock to scent each other, but he understood that their dynamic was like fire with kerosene. Not so easily tempered with a standard greeting.

“Well, let’s hope we don’t sing our way through this,” Jim said as he clapped and rubbed his hands together. He was perhaps too excited about something potentially dangerous. Life on the Farragut was not so stressful, thus why he, as an unmatched omega, had originally been assigned after the war.  

“Let’s hope you and Spock can manage through this situation without causing an incident,” Una snorted. “All of that excitement for your duo in front of La’An was certainly a choice, Mr. Kirk. It seems your reputation does precede you.”

Jim groaned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You don’t believe gossip, do you, Number One? And are you really going to blame me for my physiological responses?”

“I only believe in observable evidence,” she said with a smile. “Also, ‘I almost understood it’?”

Heat spread across Jim’s cheeks. “What?” he asked innocently.

“You were doing the calculations with your hand,” she snorted.

“What do you want me to say? Don’t tell me you don’t feel some kind of way when you see Chris excel at his job,” Jim protested.

“We’re not talking about me,” Una laughed. “Do you want people to think you aren’t as smart as you are? That, like Chris, you failed quantum physics?”

Jim sighed and gave her a sidelong glance. “Would it be so bad?”

“Yes, you are an omega trying to become Captain with an alpha who is also Vulcan. Those around you will expect the level of competence a mate of a Vulcan should have.”

He soured and exhaled roughly. The implication was not one he enjoyed thinking about, but it was valid. It was not as though Una thought he was undeserving of Spock or that he would impede the Vulcan’s intellectual growth. But as omegas who broke records and tested the boundaries of Starfleet regulations, Jim and Una had to be exceptional in every capacity. It was a double standard, but one the omega had to remind himself to be mindful of, especially when his physiology got the best of him.

“I will find other ways to flirt with my Vulcan duo then,” Jim said with a faux sigh of disappointment.

“That is not the lesson here,” Una huffed. “No flirting would be the most professional stance.”

“Well,” Jim laughed, “that is a tall order.”

“I am aware,” Una said with a suffering sigh. “Alright, up in the Jefferies tube!”

Jim blinked as he watched the woman remove the round door. “Me?”

“Well, I trust you to know what Spock wants more than I trust my knowledge.”

Without further complaint, Jim climbed up and began futzing around with the cords until he was in position. Though he looked as if he were lounging, he was trying to triple-check Spock and Uhura’s calculations and their solution. It all made sense, so he turned over his shoulder to look at Una and asked, “Want me to call Spock and let him know we’re ready?”

“That’s funny that you think we’ll let you talk to each other,” Una snorted.

“Why is that funny? We are colleagues,” Jim scoffed.

“Did we not just say what the most professional stance would be?”

“And I established I am not capable of that with Mr. Spock,” Jim replied, “But I get it.”

“Number One to Uhura, Lieutenant Kirk and I are in place.”

Still, despite how he understood Una’s reasoning, Jim would remain jealous that she was able to speak with Spock.

“Standby for harmonics data,” Ensign Uhura’s voice rang through the communicator.

Had everyone decided Jim and Spock should not even hear one another’s voice? Alas, with the harmonics data received, Jim got to work. Allowing the task to take over his distracted mind. “One junction down, four more to go.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve run out of steam already,” Una said with a teasing smile.

“You know my brother, he always described you as the first officer that ‘I thought I should be like’. Someone who keeps a necessary distance from her crew because she knows she has to make hard decisions.”

“I’m aware of the reputation I’ve had on this ship, but recently I’m trying a new approach—more hands-on.”

“My last first officer definitely kept his distance,” Jim told her, and then slid his way out of the Jefferies tube, landing easily on his feet. Standing in front of Una, he continued, “And no one questioned him.”

“I call that style of command a first mistake.” Then the music swelled. Una looked up. Jim too followed her gaze, concerned for what was to come. “The kind that makes my head shake and my heart…break.” And then the singing began.

“Have you been singing your heart out, Sam?” Jim smiled when Una left the Kirk brothers to complete the next portion of the mission.

“No way,” Sam laughed, “wait, have you?”

“Yes,” he laughed with a bright smile. Together, they gathered the large cords to finalize the connections of the deflector array. “Sang with Una and everything. The whole bridge crew, too.”

“Wait, you heard Spock sing?” Sam gaped.

“Well, no…I actually don’t know if he sang,” Jim hummed. “What do you think that sounds like?”

“Oh my god,” Sam groaned. “No wonder Ensign Uhura said I have to be in charge of communication!”

“She did not,” Jim laughed.

“She definitely did.”

Jim elected to ignore his brother as he got to work. There was very little time, and he didn’t want to end up in a weird duet with his brother about their strangely competitive, uncompetitive relationship. Sam was the better singer, but that didn’t seem to matter in a reality where they were a part of an unscripted, scripted musical. Luckily, Sam took to just reviewing the documentation Jim had made to ensure he made the appropriate connections, rather than helping his younger brother. It was better to just have one cook in the kitchen for such a delicate task. Especially with him on his hands and knees, messing with the fussy wiring of a pristine ship.

As if on cue, with almost everything in place, Uhura called, “Lieutenant Kirk, not to rush you, but I’m rushing you. The sooner we close that fold, the faster we can say goodbye to the music.”

“Copy that, Ensign,” Jim and Sam said in unison, as they squatted side by side.

“She was talking to me,” Sam said.

“You don’t know that,” Jim protested.

“I do know that. I actually work here,” Sam huffed.

“This isn’t even your department,” Jim smiled and stood. “You’re xenoanthropology!”

“I was assigned here at your request! She said you missed me.”

Jim walked to the switch to flip on the deflector array, ignoring his brother—who was entirely right. Una and Uhura had asked him if he wanted company, and he requested his brother, knowing the man had absolutely nothing better to do. And what better way to get his mind off Spock than to have his brother bother him.

“Everything’s connected to the deflector. Ready to go, Nyota,” announced Jim with an air of smugness. Sam glared at Jim because he was being superior about his closeness to his brother’s colleagues. It felt like a win.

“Deflector aligned and ready to fire,” Una reported overhead.

“On your command, Number One,” Captain Pike replied.

In Pike’s quarters, the Captain and Spock stood on one side of the kitchen. On the other side of the kitchen, Uhura sat in front of the bar, Una sat behind it with La’An, and Jim lingered further behind. From the back, Jim could observe everything without being too close to the situation. All seemingly afraid they would spontaneously break into song. Spock, amongst the fearful, stood so stiffly despite Captain Pike’s pacing that he almost looked pained. Jim at least felt better knowing they both struggled. Even if Spock’s rut and Jim’s heat had not been on the horizon, the length of time apart had been heinous.

“Admiral April’s last message confirmed that the improbability field has now spread to twelve Federation ships,” Number One said. “He let me know in his surprisingly beautiful baritone that he wants us to stop this now, by the way.”

“Do we have any idea why this reality’s compelling us to confess our deepest emotions?” asked Chris.

Jim, who had been focused on the Captain and the Vulcan behind him, caught La’An very briefly peering at him from the corner of her eye. Clearly, she had undergone her own musically emotional outburst and had yet to recover. He could only assume, he was the culprit.

Nyota said, “I have a theory. I think since we’re in a musical reality, we’re actually following the rules of musicals.”

“So, when do characters in musicals usually begin to sing?” the Captain asked.

“When their emotions are so heightened that words won’t suffice,” Una answered.

Again, La’An looked over her shoulder at Jim, and her breath was heavy, intentionally slow. There was little Jim could do for her in the situation at hand, especially when his pheromones could do nothing to calm her, and they only reacted to Spock’s specific distress. Everyone was understandably frustrated and anxiety ridden, especially when everyone was powerless against unknown forces.

“This musical reality wants us to sing about what’s most pressing on our minds,” Nyota explained. “These emotions have the power to overwhelm our capacity for rational thinking. They also have the potential to drive us apart.”

“The subspace fold—I think we should blow it up,” declared Captain Pike. “Use the photon torpedoes to bring down the curtain on this thing for good.”

Spock glanced at the view screen and then looked to his captain to reply, “That has potential.”

“Really?” Chris replied, shocked.

Jim was, too; he had thought Pike was just being hyperbolic because of his embarrassing duet on the bridge.

“Since we are the focal point of this subspace fold, a matter/antimatter blast might untether the Enterprise and reverse the musical reality for all affected,” Spock explained. “But it would be prudent to test this theory in a controlled environment, in case it is more explosive than intended.”  

La’An said, “What if we could isolate and transport—”

“—Subatomic particles from the fold,” Jim finished. “Sorry,” he said and slid up beside La’An at the kitchen bar. “I shouldn’t have interrupted you because you had that thought first,” Jim smiled at the alpha.

Another competent alpha in the room certainly did nothing to ease Jim’s excitement, especially when he had enjoyed their last tryst, sans the pillow talk. But, rather awkwardly, La’An gave him a strange nod and smile. Not entirely out of character, but strange enough for Jim, who knew she should not have been so uncomfortable with him.

“Locking in on something that small would require cross-targeting,” Una said. Then leaned forward to look very seriously at Jim and La’An as she continued, “It’s a two-person job.” 

Jim said, “Well, luckily you have two persons right here.”

Again, La’An looked down at him to acknowledge what he said, but her expression was one that seemed to indicate she was seconds from an emotional outburst. Then, shocking the room, La’An said, “No, my apologies, but I cannot work with Lieutenant Kirk on this.”

Quiet filled Pike’s quarters. Then, Una rose from her seat and said, “La’An and I will go have a private chat; we will be back shortly.”

After they departed, Jim recovered as quickly as he could and looked to Spock with half-lidded eyes. He said, “Well, then how about—”

Without missing a beat, Pike had put a damper on Jim trying to get close to his alpha. He commanded, “Uhura, call Sam back up and see if he can help Lieutenant Kirk with this cross-targeting job.”

“Sam can’t help with that; he didn’t even help me with the deflector array,” Jim protested. But Pike did not budge. So, while they waited for Uhura to get in contact with Sam, Jim raked his eyes over the stiff, tight-lipped Vulcan. “So, are you singing?” Jim asked with an amused smile.  

The Vulcan’s eyes finally snapped to meet the omega’s gaze, but he did not speak.

“Kirk, get out and wait for Sam to bring you to the transport room,” Captain Pike snapped.

“Oh, I can’t even ask a question?!” Jim protested more. “This whole keeping us separate to the point we can’t even talk to each other is ridiculous, you know.”

“Mr. Kirk has the schematics of the ship memorized. I am sure he can escort himself and wait for his brother to join him in transport,” Spock said to Pike.

“Oh, good!” Captain Pike clapped his hands together. “Go on your way then.”

“Et tu, Brute?” Jim glowered at Spock before he left, ignoring how Nyota laughed at his suffering.

“We should boost the gain on the targeting scanners,” La’An said to Jim.

He had begun progress on the mission in the transport room by himself, only to be surprised by La’An’s arrival. Standing side by side at the transporter, they worked in tandem. Thankful that La’An freed herself from enough of an emotional and musical burden that Jim did not have to work with his brother, who would not have even been able to fathom what Jim and La’An wanted to attempt.

“Way ahead of you,” Jim replied. “Do we have a lock on the target?” He breathed, then looked at La’An. “Sorry, reflex. This is your ship, you give the orders.”

“Ready on both ends.” La’An watched Jim input the calculations to ensure he was correct. As his fingers took hold of the sliding nobs and raised them, she said, “Energizing…now.”

“The molecular imaging scanner can’t focus the signal,” Jim said.

La’An reached over the top of Jim’s arms and across his body to input more data into the transporter station. With their bodies pressed close, Jim kept his eyes focused on what La’An’s dainty fingers input rather than the warmth she brought. “Adding power. Isolating particles from the subspace fold.”

Jim said, “Got it,” and La’An pulled away. He tried to give her a pleased smile, but even though she was there beside him, she still avoided his gaze—avoided him. Perhaps they weren’t clear from musical danger.

“Confirmed,” La’An said. “Lieutenant Spock, I have the particles. They’re coming your way.”

“Acknowledged, ready to receive,” Spock’s voice came through the comm.

“Transporting subspace particles to Engineering,” Jim said as he pushed the nobs upwards again. Once it was successful, Jim brought the nobs down and looked at La’An again. “Wow! That was exciting.” He leaned on the transporter flirtatiously and grinned. “I mean, Spock and Uhura get to blow it up, which is the real fun, but, uh…We make a good pair. We should team up more often.”

And Jim meant that because he had never worked with La’An, but seeing how she excelled and remained undistracted by his proximity or flirtatiousness was pleasing. Perhaps he had been too hasty to decisively end their tryst many months ago. Though ‘end’ perhaps was not an appropriate descriptor, as he hadn’t verbally broken up with La’An, just avoided her until he was off the ship and on Starbase 1. But despite his excitement about their smooth workplace camaraderie, La’An didn’t seem pleased with him. Jim was left to wonder what had changed between the reassurances from earlier and their moment as colleagues.

“Lieutenant, um…Jim.”

“Jim?” he gasped. “Sounds so serious.”

She smiled and said, “I, um…” A loud boom shook the ship, and Jim held La’An’s shoulders to steady her as they waited for the tremor to end. “What was that?”

Back in Captain Pike’s office, Spock and Uhura sat on one side of the conference table, Jim across from Spock, and La’An across from Uhura with Number One and the Captain on either end. It was as if they were positioned for some strange delegation conference. But, instead, they were discussing the failure of Spock’s experiment.

“The Klingons have been affected by the subspace fold, and their ship will be here in two hours,” Pike said.

“I’ve hailed them repeatedly. They refuse to answer,” said Nyota.

“If they complete their mission of attacking the subspace fold, everyone affected by the improbability field will be destroyed,” Spock informed.

“So, just the entire Federation and half the Klingon Empire,” Jim summed up.

“We have to stop them at all costs,” Chris added. “Number One, analysis?”

“Well, striking them first would constitute an act of war.”

“Not much choice here, I’m afraid,” replied Captain Pike. “What if we just find a way to disable their disruptor cannons?”

“And their torpedo launchers,” La’An added.

“That’s a lot to disable before they get off a shot,” Jim remarked skeptically.

Number One said, “We need a tactical strategy immediately, La’An?”

“On it.” She paused, then looked at Jim, “And you. You’re with me.”

Jim smiled, his fear that perhaps he had ruined something good assuaged temporarily. “Partners again. I like it. Let’s go.” He stood without paying any mind to Spock. Or anyone else, for that matter, because he did not want to become distracted by their judgement. It was too late not to appear as the man the rumors said he was. The important people knew differently, and they were all in that room. Together, they left.

Chapter Text

With all the data run, Jim and La’An found themselves in Pike’s office, alone, considering their models.

“Number One suggested we concentrate our phasers on their disruptors and fore torpedoes,” Jim said.

“Aft torpedoes are what you really have to worry about when it comes to K’t’inga-Class ships,” La’An replied.

Jim turned away from the viewscreen to give La’An a pleased smile. “Well, I trust your aim.” She did not reciprocate his satisfaction. So cautiously, he took a step toward her and leaned his hip against the table. “So, are you going to tell me that thing you wanted to tell me before? We could also talk about that other thing, too, if you want.”

“Okay,” La’An sighed and leaned on a chair to keep some distance between them. “Uh, I need to just say this before it comes out in the form of a 17th-century sea shanty.” She took in a deep breath before continuing. “I, um…I know you. I mean, not you, you. We-Well, I know you now, but I mean before. In a different…time. I met another you.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jim waved to slow her down. “I-I don’t love rules, but I’m pretty sure you’re about to break a big one.”

She gave a nod before continuing despite the major temporal rule she was about to break, “The other you, he, um…He saw the real me. Beyond my name, beyond all that name stands for. He’d never even heard it before. And I-I liked it. I liked the way he looked at me…because through his eyes, I could finally see the person I had the potential to be. And it was someone who wasn’t burdened by…tragedy and darkness. Someone who could find hope and live in that hope. Someone free-free to feel and…and…take chances and, uhm, and make connections. But then, uh, he was gone, and with him, that version of myself was gone, too. And…that’s…that was what I wanted to say.”

La’An’s eyes were watery, and suddenly everything about them made sense. And simultaneously, suddenly everything about them didn’t make sense.

With La’An, he had felt so much and feared everything that came with those feelings. More than he had with Spock. Because with La’An came…consequences. Real consequences. There was a danger that everything could fall apart as easily as it had with Carol Marcus. Maybe not for the same reason, but similar enough. The danger had come from La’An seeing him, understanding him as if she already knew him. (And apparently, she had.) Not just seeing Jim for who he was or could have been in different circumstances, but what kind of person he could become in her hands.

But rather than stew too long on everything he had come to realize at that moment, he chose not to react. Instead, Jim stepped up to the small alpha whose head had fallen to her chest, and shoulders tight with shame. To try to defuse the tension, with gentleness, he asked, “Am I anything like the other me?”

In the small space between them, La’An looked up with such heartbreaking watery sincerity. “No,” she shook her head. Then she sniffed and smiled. “And—and yes.” Jim smiled in reply. Then, she grew with some confidence and leaned toward him. “I like how you look at me, too.”

“In what way?”

Her smile shifted to be a little more flirtatious but possessed of the same expression anyone had with Jim when he was fishing for a compliment. “Like you really see me.” She looked as if she was waiting, breathing him in.

Jim was thinking about everything he had learned and all that he had already considered as quickly as he could. Time was not of the essence; he had to consider everything La’An had told him as well, but couldn’t leave her in silence too long. That would only hurt her more.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the connection, too,” Jim sighed. “When you first called me…I felt like I knew you.” But perhaps it was time to remove her veil, now that he understood her better. Why she pursued him. “But I’m not that James Kirk.”

“Of course, it was inappropriate, and I am…”

“No, La’An, you don’t understand my…my life is complicated—”

She rolled her eyes as they watered, and she said, “Well, I know—”

“Not time travel complicated, but,” Jim interrupted. “I meant to talk to you…explain—" He took a deep breath in because the conversation had been long overdue. It seemed she already predicted where their relationship was headed after such disparate communication over the last almost five months, but still, Jim owed her closure. “Spock and I plan to be mated, La’An. Not just halfway or a bite somewhere else. But mated, in a very real way.” A slow exhale, the omega continued, “I need to be mated to Spock. My body…”

“My god…if I’d have known I—”

Jim hurt her; he knew, had hoped to avoid it, but she had not been swayed by his minimal communication. Perhaps she had compared notes with Spock because he too was hardly in communication with Jim. Everything that had happened was a mess of his own making.

“How could you have?” Jim interrupted her spiraling thoughts. “You’ve been purposefully kept in the dark about just how complicated my and Spock’s…situation is.” Jim sighed and caressed her cheek, drying a tear. “Look, I liked you for the same reason I like Spock, you’re both dedicated to your jobs intensely. But, after a second unwanted pregnancy…”

“Oh, wow,” La’An breathed. “Can I ask who—"

“No. I know, but don’t ask again, please.” There was no reason for her to have an answer. There had been no future for them, maybe a past and a blip in a parallel present, but it would be cruel to even suggest there had been a chance for her to get what she had hoped for from their last night together. “But I can tell you about my first pregnancy. Why I ran from you that night, why I’ve been avoidant. It maybe will help to put exactly why my situation is complicated into perspective.”

“James, you do not need to do that, I am clever enough to put the pieces together. I do not blame you for your reaction that night, the choices you’ve made, or…ending things here and now,” La’An sighed.

Jim nodded, “I…brought back your gifts, had them sent to your room.”

“I saw,” La’An sighed shamefully. She knew and yet dared to hope that she misunderstood. “And besides, I should have known.”

“Known what?” Jim pursed his lips.

“You and Spock,” she laughed sardonically. “When I was…with that Jim…It was an entirely different universe—”

“Should you be telling me more?” Jim protested.

“Please, allow me one more vague explanation, I will not give you details,” La’An requested. Once Jim nodded reluctantly, she continued, “I saw you two—those two—interact, and I should have known then. Or maybe when James told me of his encounter with Spock prior to the moment I witnessed.” She laughed, “Honestly, definitely should have known when he was extraordinarily braggadocious about his chess skills—”

“Well, I am excellent at chess, even Spock was surprised.”

“Exactly my point,” La’An said. “Exactly my point. How many more universes are there where you two exist and are drawn together despite everything pulling you two apart? I want to be upset, but I remember my time with him, and it was already written in stone, even then.”

“Nothing is written in stone, La’An,” Jim insisted.

“Perhaps not everything, but you two?” La’An shook her head. “You two are a universal constant, and that I now firmly believe.”

Jim frowned and had to look away, uncomfortable with the implication. “You know, I never felt like I saw you as you claim, but I have always been so afraid of how clearly it is you see me.”

“But I don’t. Because if I had, this would not even be a conversation, I wouldn’t have asked Spock's permission to pursue a relationship with you. There are so many things I wouldn’t have done—”

“Because you thought Spock and I are something akin to soul mates?”

“No, because I would have known what you want, just as Spock just…knows.”

“Okay, so you sang, but did you have a solo?” Jim smiled as a Klingon blood wine drunken Spock pulled him into his quarters.

“Why do you ask? Did you have an emotional outburst through song?” Spock asked more reticent than usual, even on blood wine.

“No, no solo for me. My life is pretty boring, no drama,” Jim smiled and winked at Spock.

“That is hardly believable considering—”

“So, you did sing,” Jim laughed as his ass hit Spock’s bed.

“Yes, I had a solo,” Spock untangled his hands from Jim’s and staggered to his closet to pull out a large clamshell box. Then there was more staggering until the Vulcan fell harshly to his knees between Jim’s legs.

“So, chocolate, blood wine, what else gets you like this?” Jim pondered allowed. “And what is that?”

“A gift,” Spock said and opened the box.

Inside was a mixed alloy collar similar to the one Spock had given him before they shared the Vulcan’s rut for the first time. Jim caressed the cool metal in admiration. Then panic attempted to take hold, but he tried to remind himself that his pre-heat brain would tell him any ugly thought it could come up with.

“Did you change your mind?” Jim asked, staring at the collar rather than Spock.

“No, but I thought you might have.”

Relieved, Jim exhaled heavily. He closed the box, taking it from Spock’s hands to set it beside himself on the bed. “No, I haven’t changed my mind,” Jim answered and cupped Spock’s alcohol warmed face. “In fact, I ended things with La’An officially today.”

The Vulcan’s eyes fell shut, and his face pressed into Jim’s hands. “Christine did not tell me she was accepted into the Medical Archaeology program on Vulcan and chose to celebrate without me. Then sang a song about her choice.”

Jim groaned and pulled Spock into a hug, which the Vulcan greedily accepted. “A song really would make that whole situation worse,” Jim breathed and kissed the top of Spock’s head. He was thankful that he and Spock were kept separate for so long. Their song would have either been highly erotic or both, finally naming their feelings. And having those out in the open would have meant they had to do something about it. Jim understood Nurse Chapel’s stance on remaining in an undefined relationship; he had been much the same. “So, your solo was about her.”

“Yes, and perhaps my romantic life in general.”

“Yeah, I could see how T’Pring and Christine would inspire a whole solo,” Jim hummed.

“Do you not believe you are included in the complicated matter of my love life?” the Vulcan asked, looking up at Jim.

“Oh?” Jim gave him a teasing smile, trying to calm his racing heart. “What’s so complicated about us? We have a lot of sex, take care of each other during our cycles, have meals together, and sometimes live and work together. We also knew we would mate, so I don’t really see anything complicated.”

Spock rose to his feet and pushed himself into Jim’s space, moving close enough that the omega lay back on the bed, so the Vulcan had to hover with a knee between his legs. Their faces were mere centimeters from each other, and Jim tried to maintain his teasing persona despite how excitement filled his body. Even though Spock had drunk an inhuman amount of blood wine, he had still finished his shift, which meant he was hardly tipsy as he toyed with Jim.

The Vulcan’s lips dragged along his jaw as he whispered, “Are you sincere in your belief that you do not complicate my love life?”

Jim swallowed, “I was more so implying that uh…we aren’t romantic.”

There was a hum that reverberated Jim’s body, then, where his lips pressed against Jim’s cheek, Spock murmured, “We had not kissed because if we did, you would have been unable to maintain an illusion of professionalism.”

“Are you questioning my boundaries?” Jim asked.

“I am questioning the logic. Do you only kiss those you are romantically engaged with? Or am I a special circumstance?” Spock whispered, his breath ghosting Jim’s lips.

“We have kissed!”

“Yes, we kissed,” Spock breathed. “But I wonder if it was hormonal due to your condition.”

“Four weeks hardly does anything to one’s mind.”

“I disagree. Your emotions were heightened, and you feared what might come from the failures of Christine’s medical interventions, that Dr. McCoy might also fail. And so, we kissed because you wanted to, of that I have no doubt, but I also predict it was also due to the stress you were under.”

Jim’s eyes fell from Spock’s to look down at how close their bodies were. His lashes shadowed his cheeks as he felt caught in his own paradox. Spock no longer willing to take part in another complicated, unnamed situation.

 “Last we kissed outside of our cycles was a goodbye kiss after we shared your first heat. Before that was in your office, less than a week before that,” Spock breathed. “Allow me to clarify, I enjoyed kissing you last we were intimate. It was exhilarating. But, before, I had refrained from kissing you in a Vulcan or the human way because I wanted to respect your wishes. But if you believe you do not complicate my love life, then I must—as any scientist should—question the validity of your reason to not engage in such a physical exchange.”

“Must you?” Jim sighed.

“Yes,” Spock insisted. “There is another topic I must address.”

“Again, must you?” Jim protested, growing frustrated with Spock’s confrontation with Jim in a vulnerable position.

“The unspoken matter being that you have not successfully maintained an outside romantic relationship since our initial meeting.”

“Neither have you,” Jim pointed out.

“My failures with T’Pring and Christine are unrelated to my relationship with you. They enjoyed the fact I had you and found comfort in it,” Spock explained. “But you and La’An…I wonder why you ended it today.”

“I already told you before, we weren’t—”

“Yes, you said you were not sexually compatible, which I know to be untrue when you still smelled interested in her today. So, I must ask—”

“Must you?” Jim hissed.

“Yes, I must ask why you have failed to continue a relationship I have no problem with you taking part in,” Spock pressed.

Jim glowered at Spock. Then, with his forearms planted on the bed, he pushed up to kiss Spock. The Vulcan gave no protests as he kissed him back with fervor. Spock’s hand slipped around the back of Jim’s head, cradling him as they kissed hungrily. Jim wrapped an arm around Spock’s shoulders, and a leg around the one between his own to flip them so he straddled the alpha. They parted, breathing heavily, and Jim tugged his uniform shirts up over his head and tossed them away, Spock doing just the same.

“You have not answered my question,” Spock persisted.

“Oh my stars, Spock,” Jim growled and grabbed the Vulcan by his perfect hair to pull him back up into a kiss as he ground his hips. “Shut up, just shut up.”

“You are very defensive for the question being simple,” Spock said as they parted again.

Jim was fighting his pants to the point he had to get off the bed and stand up to remove his boots and trousers. “You know the question isn’t simple, you’re being an asshole cause your girlfriend just broke up with you.” Spock simply sat up with his hands behind him to keep himself propped up. Muscles flexing as he watched Jim get naked. “You’re actually so irritating, I don’t even know why I put up with you.” He climbed back onto the bed and sat back in Spock’s lap, fingers working the Vulcan’s pants open since he couldn’t be bothered apparently.

“That is what I, too, find myself wondering, if I am an…asshole.”

Jim stroked Spock’s prick and glared at him. The Vulcan reached to stroke Jim’s cocklett, but he slapped the other’s hand away. “You’re not allowed to touch right now. Really, I should just make you eat me out, but…” Jim looked down at the dick in his hand and sighed, “Definitely would be a waste…” he slipped an arm around Spock’s shoulders, rose up before he adjusted the prick so he could slowly sit down on the member. A low moan left his lips as he became fully seated on the Vulcan’s member.

Spock’s own eyes fluttered shut as he got himself accustomed to Jim’s tight channel. “Is my prick why you ‘put up with me’?”

Jim’s hands slid down Spock’s hair-covered chest, admiring the swell of his muscle and the pure masculine appearance of his alpha. “And if it was, then what?” Jim shivered as he began to roll his hips up and down Spock’s dick. “Would you leave me to fend for myself if that were true?”

The Vulcan shifted, causing Jim to moan out, as he cupped Jim’s face, pulling him into a slow, luxuriant kiss. “It is not true, so I do not even need to consider such a hypothetical.”

“You’re so,” Jim groaned and pushed at Spock until the Vulcan was laid out flat on his back. His hands spread across his alpha’s chest as he picked up the pace with furrowed, intense brows. “You make me crazy.”

Warm hands wrapped around Jim’s hips, squeezing gently. “You have lost considerable weight, are you not concerned for your heat?”

“How…Can you talk?” Jim shook his head and squeezed the prick deep in his cunt. That pulled a nice, long groan from the Vulcan. The omega grinned wide, mouth open as he panted. He worked hard, and Spock massaging his hips did nothing to help the extraordinary pleasure he felt at getting the Vulcan to finally become silent. Then those long, strong hands moved from his hips to grip his ass, assisting him. Which only infuriated Jim more and made him grind and tighten his grip with every roll of his hips. “Fuck,” he groaned, and his fingers dug into Spock’s chest as he tried to pick up the pace.

“Allow me to help you,” Spock offered, a small smile gracing his features.

It seemed the Vulcan had fallen into his rut before Jim had reached the beginning of his heat. He could hardly give Spock an answer before the Vulcan was adjusting his position. He planted his feet on the bed, shifting Jim so that he could feel the prick deeper in his body. Then, as Jim rose up, Spock thrust up back into him, causing Jim to moan loud and long, especially as the Vulcan continued to lift Jim up and pull him down on his dick. Jim had been used like this before, but usually with some explicit intention of having Spock take over his mind to stop him from thinking. But with all his faculties in place, it felt raunchy and so good.

“I am close,” Spock said, and Jim gasped, “I’m…Fuck, I’m not.” And he couldn’t believe that he wasn’t close with how well he was being used. How his tight channel took to the Vulcan’s double ribbed prick and his thick shaft. Even his cocklett ached and dripped, but still, Jim was not close. It was frustrating beyond belief. When Spock spilled inside of him, Jim shook, his toes curled in pleasure, shivering in excitement from being filled by his alpha after so long without.  Spock held his hips tight and kept their bodies flush together. Jim was held so tightly he couldn’t even grind his hips. “Please, Spock, please.”

“Not yet, not yet.”

“You’re not gonna pop a knot yet, I’m sure,” Jim insisted. “Please, please, I need to get off.”

“Without me?”

Jim snorted and rolled off the Vulcan when he was released. “Well, you should have made me cum first.” He got off the bed and walked across the Vulcan’s room to where his bag had been put. Behind him, he heard Spock remove his pants and get off the bed. “Whatever you’re planning, you better mind your business,” Jim said as he stood with a metal box in hand.

“What is that?” Spock asked as he entered Jim’s space.

“You don’t recognize a gift?” Jim replied with a smirk.

Spock took hold of the gift and tossed it away to the couch. “Why would you need that when I am here?”

Jim sighed and tried to shuffle past the Vulcan when he gripped Jim’s waist and ushered him to the desk. They were kissing again, Spock easily distracting Jim from his goal of self-pleasure. The alpha lifted Jim’s leg up over Spock’s hip so he could fit nicely between Jim’s legs and push into his still-dripping-wet channel. Jim moaned and dropped his head back. He slowly lowered himself until he was lying on his back, arms reaching above his head to hold the edge of the desk and prevent himself from slipping off. Again, Spock used his body, a fist around his cocklett, milking the pleasure out of Jim as he stretched his cunt out with his prick again.

“Omega, I am here, you do not need anything but me for your pleasure,” Spock said between thrusts.

“Yes, sorry,” Jim nodded, having not realized how rapidly Spock fell into his rut. Having only ever experienced one, and he had been late to it, there was very little preparation for him in regard to how to manage the Vulcan. Spock’s face fell to Jim’s chest, licking at his pierced nipples, sucking on them as he continued to hold Jim down and fuck him.

Jim woke, lucid, aching, and whole. He could feel Spock so powerfully that it was overwhelming. With a sigh, he pressed his face into the alpha’s side, his ear up against the Vulcan’s ribs to listen to his heartbeat. Fingers gently stroked the sweat-sticky hair that curled at the base of Jim’s neck. Neither of them ready to move and face reality. They had become a mated pair, and with that came a heavier emotional burden. But Jim’s burden was not his alone, and so felt lighter despite it.

“Jim—”

“Shh! Not yet.”

The Vulcan’s chest rumbled, Jim smiled, glad he could make the other laugh. Reluctantly, he pulled his face from where he had buried it between Spock’s body and the bed to rest on his arm and look up at his alpha. Spock’s hand moved from Jim’s wrist to stroke his cheek, and the omega’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Jim,” Spock tried again.

“Yes, Spock?”

“Do you think you are able to stand so that we may visit medical bay?”

Jim opened his eyes halfway and pursed his lips. “You worried I couldn’t bite through your Vulcan skin?”

The alpha chuckled again, eyes too fond of Jim. “My concern is our mismatched rut and heat. I want to ensure you are healthy.”

“Oh please,” Jim stretched along the length of Spock to feel his aching body. He pressed close to Spock, resting his chin upon his folded hands on the Vulcan’s chest. “I can take anything you can give me.”

Spock raised a singular brow. “I appreciate your confidence, but I am now concerned your ego will keep you from admitting you need medical attention.” Despite his irritation, his arms wrapped around Jim’s body and held him flush.

“We can go to med bay and visit your ex-girlfriend since you’re so eager to flaunt our bond,” Jim teased.

The Vulcan flipped them and dragged Jim into a breath-stealing kiss, laying his heavy weight on the omega’s body. “Is that all I can flaunt?” asked Spock as his lips brushed against Jim’s.

The conversation probably couldn’t be delayed, but Jim wasn’t sure of what to say. Hardly any time had been given for him to process Spock calling him on his bullshit, and them bonding. The bond was a necessity, not necessarily borne from their romantic dedication to each other. But it was a lifelong dedication, nevertheless. That could not be enough for Spock; Jim should have known.

“Can we talk once hormones have settled and I can’t feel you inside of me?” Jim asked with fear, his heart racing.

“Yes,” Spock agreed all too easily and kissed the corner of Jim’s mouth. “That is a reasonable request.” Then he kissed Jim again before he parted and sat up on the edge of the bed, doing his own particularly slow stretch.

Jim was sure he was being teased, so he crawled over to him and managed to sit up and drape himself over the back of the alpha. “Stop teasing me when you’re trying to get me to be able to walk again.”

Spock turned his head enough to look at Jim with sparkling mischief. “If you cannot walk, should I invite Nurse Chapel to examine you here?”

“I am sure she will love that,” Jim frowned. It was strange how Spock spoke of him in relation to Nurse Chapel; he felt perhaps he needed to be more mindful. Ensure he would not be some rebound, as complicated as that would be to identify, given their entire relationship. “Help me to the sonic shower.”

In med bay, Spock and Jim were understandably isolated. Jim with Nurse Chapel and Spock with Dr. M’Benga. But as the woman ran her scans, he felt unbelievably uncomfortable and awkward.

“Did you—”

“Kirk,” Nurse Chapel warned.

Jim sighed roughly and stared at his bitten wrists. Spock had done a number on all of his glands during rut; he hoped that wasn’t a sign that Spock had been in bad shape because of Jim’s poor care of his alpha.

“Everything looks fine to me and still no risk for pregnancy, so thankfully you’re in the clear there,” Nurse Chapel recited dully.

“I could have had someone else—”

“That would make me poor at my job if I abandoned long-term patient care because I had a bad breakup with our boyfriend.”

Jim snorted. “He’s not anyone’s boyfriend.”

Chapel glanced from her PADD once and then twice before she set it down and stared at Jim seriously. “What was your question?”

His visage contorted uncomfortably. “Did you feel like a rebound?”

Christine stared at him, surprised. “Do you feel like a rebound?”

Jim couldn’t read her face, and so, in the discomfort he created, said, “How about I just ask someone else? Maybe that’s more comfortable for both of us.”

She sighed and looked around the private room for a moment. “Spock and I were together before his fallout with T’Pring, as you know, but…after…” she took pause to consider. “Whatever I say is unfair to say to you, and I think you need to figure it all out for yourself. Unfortunately, I think we’re too similar in our approach to relationships, so maybe ask T’Pring.”

That was not helpful because T’Pring’s advice banged around in his head all the time.

Jim had not been cleared for duty due to the amount of trauma caused to his body. Though dermal regeneration worked for the majority of bites, any on glands could not be touched without harming Jim more so they were cleaned and bandaged. Spock, however, had been cleared, but was also extraordinarily concerned about Jim’s well-being, so for a few days he had been by the Vulcan’s side. Possessive Vulcan paired with possessive alpha behavior was an interesting combo to witness and be the recipient of. So, while Spock did paperwork, Jim picked at a bowl of fruit, staring at Spock’s pile of work.

“Can I make an inquiry?”

Spock raised his gaze to meet Jim with curious confusion. “Normally, you do not ask, nor ask with such formality.”

“Right,” Jim sighed and stabbed mindlessly at the fruit.

“If you are bored, I am sure your brother could give you a cataloguing task.”

At first, Jim frowned, then fixed his face and looked at Spock with dispassion. “Already bored of me staring at you?”

“You are bored.”

“Well, yeah, of course,” Jim huffed and leaned back.

“What was your question, Jim?”

“It’s personal,” he muttered. Spock gave him a look to continue. “You’re still bonded to T’Pring?”

“I am, until, I assume, she finds a more appropriate match.”

“Oh,” Jim nodded. That made perfect sense and released a soft breath. Spock couldn’t leave T’Pring fully because of their physiological requirements. “What’s it like being bonded to both of us?”

Spock leaned back in his seat and folded his hands on the desk, considering Jim. “It is not as in conflict as I had assumed, given how T’Pring has pulled away from me, I do not feel drawn in two directions.”

Jim gave a slow nod and looked at Spock’s hands rather than his studious eyes.

“Is this an appropriate time for us to have that conversation?”

“What conversation?” Jim asked, lost in his own thoughts.

“Are we simply bond mates, or has there been a change?”

For a moment, Jim contemplated the question. “What do you mean, has there been a change?” He reached over and gently placed his hand on top of Spock’s, then looked up at him sincerely. “I mean, for me, this is…the best I’ve felt in a long time, and…I don’t regret a single moment getting here.”

Spock was quiet. “I see.”

“You…see?” Jim was a little frustrated. Maybe he misread Spock’s jealousy in the daze of post-heat/rut and mating bite. “What are you asking, Spock, you aren’t really one to beat around the bush.”

The Vulcan turned their hands so Jim’s was palm up and his on top. Slowly, Spock dragged his fingers from Jim’s wrist until their tips touched. A warm sensation moved through Jim’s nerves, waking his body and mind. Flaring their bond. “I wish to know if there is more.”

Jim met Spock’s searching gaze. “Well, can’t you feel nothing has changed for me?” Reaching across the desk, Jim caressed a chain around the Vulcan’s neck. He pulled the necklace out from under Spock’s blue uniform to admire the gift he had given Spock, which seemed so long ago but was only ten months prior. “We are bonded, eventually I’ll be your Captain, and you’ll be my First Officer. What do you think has changed? What more is there from me?” Jim could see and feel how disappointed Spock was by that answer. “Has anything changed for you?”

“No,” Spock answered unconvincingly.

A conversation that led nowhere only drove Jim crazier. “You’re a bad liar.”

“Vulcans cannot lie,” Spock said.

“Right,” Jim gave him a sidelong glance. Giving up on the conversation Spock had wanted to have, he squeezed Spock’s hand before pulling away. “I know I’m not supposed to be working, but I caught wind of some…potential problems Starfleet is facing, given my official promotion. So, I think I have to go back to my ship.”

“What problems are those exactly?”

Jim frowned and, with reluctance, said, “Not sure I can tell you. It is classified. What is your clearance level?”

Spock was unamused as he asked, “Are you attempting to prank me?”

“I would never try to prank the Vulcan prankster,” Jim teased, his eyes sparkling.

“I cannot fathom how you and T’Pring get along so well.”

A little smile graced Jim’s visage and unfolded Spock’s hands so he could hold one between his own and stroke the entire hand very slowly and gently. “You know all about the Gorn; your response to them is what triggered your first rut. There’s just an unreasonable amount of Gorn activity, so they’re going to send military veteran crews to check things out. But you can’t tell a soul I said that, Spock.”

“The Gorn?” Spock frowned. “The Enterprise has engaged with the Gorn, and the majority of the crew—me included—have no experience with war.”

Jim nodded his head slowly. “Well, the flagship may have a few secrets in her tubes, but the crew is still very important and cannot be—”

“You and many others are important.”

“Be logical,” Jim sighed.

Spock fell silent. “You have unique expertise,” he admitted. “Why not stay and train the Enterprise crew?”

“The Enterprise has had the most contact out of Starfleet, especially the most contact with a high survival rate.” Jim gave his alpha a small smile. “Spock, I have been learning from you all, when I can. Don’t worry, I am sure everything will be fine.”

The Vulcan paused, considering Jim before he asked, “When do you leave?”

“Not for another two weeks. Nurse Chapel still will not clear me for duty until she’s convinced I can stand to be away from you.”

“You are not being very convincing in this particular moment,” Spock teased.

Jim pursed his lips but relaxed, glad to see Spock was filled with some humor again. “Can’t an omega spend time with his alpha without people thinking I’m clingy and likely to have withdrawals?”