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Instead, It Happened So Easily

     Sunlight on his face. After almost four years out in the black, the simple action of leaning his head back and letting warmth and light bathe his skin became both extraordinary and therapeutic. Jim opened his eyes slowly and let out a deep breath, feeling some of the tension ease in his shoulders and back. A sip of wine from a chilled glass, and he licked moisture from his lower lip, indulging in a small, impulsive grin.

     Across the small courtyard, a lovely lady smiled at him, lifting her own glass. Jim blinked and returned the gesture, but then lowered his eyes deliberately, making no move to join her. He was waiting for someone else.

     His ship was safely docked at Starbase Four, undergoing an upgrade of her weapons systems that was certain to take nearly four weeks. Jim had put in for a leave of ten days. He had also asked his first officer to accompany him. He’d been confident that the first request would be granted and was cautiously hopeful of the second. On both counts, he’d been successful.

     Jim’s smile returned and he stretched out his legs, enjoying the incongruous feeling of old-fashioned jeans. The shuttle to Amarathus Colony had crawled along at a leisurely warp two and he hadn’t minded a minute of it, sitting next to his dearest friend, anticipation buzzing along his nerves. 

     There had been countless moments before, when Jim had recognized his own feelings for what they were and yet bowed to the requirements of what he thought was his duty. He’d buried himself in work and comforted himself with a most cherished friendship. He’d convinced himself that it was enough. It hadn’t been.

     Jim sipped his drink again, savoring the flavor. He couldn’t recall the exact moment when he had decided to yield. Oddly enough, it hadn’t been when either of them had been laid out in sickbay or engaged in gamesmanship across a chessboard. As close as he could guess, it had been some odd instance of realization, like the first lap of water over the edge of an overflowing pool. Like inevitability.

     Something sparked along the edges of his wandering thoughts, and Jim glanced over at the entrance to the sunny seating area. There he was: tall and elegant in a white shirt and dark trousers. His best friend and best officer. The love of his life. The captain grinned openly, seeing Spock’s impassivity lighten and Jim rose from his seat to greet him.

     “I apologize for my lateness, Jim,” Spock said. “It was necessary that I confirm the new torpedo tube parameters with Commander Peterkin over the secured link.”

     “Not at all.” Jim motioned to the empty seat across from him. “I ordered a bottle of wine.”

     “Thank you.” Spock seated himself and watched as the captain poured the liquid from the insulated decanter into a waiting glass.

     Jim sat down and lifted his own glass. “To our ship. And to the sunshine.”

     Spock lifted an eyebrow and his wine. “And to you, Jim.” He sipped and made a soft noise of appreciation. Spock had shed his strict aura of professionalism upon sitting down and Jim savored the subtle evidence of relaxation in the long lines of his body and in the planes of his face.

     “Good, right?” Jim leaned back in his chair. “Our bags made it to the house. I checked it out before heading over here. The house, that is. It’s nice. Not too far.”

     The Vulcan merely watched him, no doubt amused by his usually eloquent captain’s reversion to the simplest and vaguest of descriptors. 

     Jim cleared his throat. “Well.” For a moment, his resolve failed him, and then he saw the faintest crinkle of a smile on his friend’s face. More, he could feel it, and his lips parted in recognition of the normality of the feeling. It was no more than they shared on the bridge, or in the shadowed camaraderie of their quarters, or in the heat of battle or negotiation. It was a sixth sense, one he had accepted and integrated and relied on. And it was presently telling him that what he wanted to say would be no surprise at all.

     “Are you hungry?” Spock asked blithely.

     The captain shrugged, appreciating how much had been shared and acknowledged in their own little privacy, despite the bright public sunlight. “Not really. How about a walk, instead? After the wine?”

     “Indeed.”

     Jim shifted in his seat, sipping his wine again. He allowed his gaze to soften and to finally regard the other man with the eyes and expression of a lover. Despite his bone-deep certainty, it still felt daring. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said gently. “I want to ask you a question.”

     Spock tilted his head in that way he had. “You may ask me anything, Jim.” 

     Jim self-consciously ducked his head. He knew that such a gesture was somewhat uncharacteristic for him, as was the flutter of nerves in his abdomen. Resolved, he nodded to himself and lifted his chin. “You know that you are closer to me than anyone has ever been. I trust you with my life and I cherish the time we spend together.” He paused, realizing that this was sounding more like a speech than a confession of love. He took in Spock’s calm acceptance and decided to press on.

     “What I mean to say is that you’ve become a part of me. You’re the best part of me.” He leaned forward. “My feelings towards you have only continued to deepen. Spock, if I were to tell you that I desire more than friendship between us, what would you say?”

     There was no hesitation. “I would say that your desire is quite logical and that I would be amenable to such an expansion of our relationship.”

     Jim blinked owlishly at the quick certainty of his friend’s reply.

     Spock’s lips curved again, perhaps calculating the very human need for redundant affirmation. He reached out, two fingers extended in a familiar gesture.

     The captain reached back immediately, a pleased exhale escaping him. The chaste contact lasted only seconds, but Jim’s entire body felt warmed, his thoughts buoyed by relief and satisfaction. He let out a spontaneous laugh, seeing his happiness reflected in Spock’s brown eyes.

     “Well,” Jim said. “Alright.”

     They sat together, finishing the bottle of wine, the sun above bathing the murmured socializations of others around them. Jim internally rejoiced in the freedom he now knew. This remarkable being was his dearest friend, his soon-to-be-lover. Their hands rested together on the table, their fingers still extended, still touching, relaxed. Their touch filled the comfortable silence between them.

     “Excuse me for just a moment,” Jim said finally, setting down his empty glass and impulsively clasping Spock’s hand briefly before standing up.

     “Of course,” Spock replied.

     Jim felt giddy. His skin tingled with the warm electric sensation he always experienced when touching his friend. He paused at the entryway just to glance back to see Spock still watching him. Inside, as he was washing his hands, he looked in the mirror. He was flushed and his heart beat out a rhythm of anticipation and joy. He peered closer, recognizing the similarities to his brother Sam’s expression immediately after Aurelan had agreed to marry him. The comparison startled Jim and he chuckled out loud. 

     Just like that, he knew that he wouldn’t settle for anything less than a lifetime with this man. His certainty was soul-deep and he was hungry for it. No matter that the idea of romantic attachment had only just been broached; commitment felt like something already hard-won. His heart was full as he walked from the cool interior of the restaurant back to the bright patio. 

     Spock regarded him with some curiosity as Jim, no doubt with a silly smile still plastered on his face, regained his seat. 

     “Are you alright, Jim?”

     “Quite alright,” Jim said immediately. He reached out to close out his tab on the table’s small service console. “Come on, my friend,” he said. “Let’s walk.”

     The bustling pathway through the main tourist area turned quickly into a nearly isolated forest trail at the boundary of the shops and eateries. Direct sunlight turned to dappled, shifting patterns, and wholesome warmth faded into the cool breath of shadowed growing things.

      Jim strode more measuredly than usual, hands loose at his sides. He waited for the silence to close in around them, taking another several steps before stopping and turning to face his companion.

     “Honestly, this,” he said, gesturing between them, “seems almost too easy. I’d imagined having to convince you at length.”

     Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “Your concern was not misplaced,” he said.

     Jim studied him. “So, you’ve considered it?”

     “I have.” Spock bowed his head. “I acknowledge that my thoughts seek yours, as does my body and, indeed, my very being.”

     Jim made a pleased noise at his forthright words.

     Spock continued, “Reconciliation of that with my duty to Starfleet is non-trivial, but such pairings do exist in the service. Reconciliation with the traditions and expectations of Vulcan itself, however, proves to be more difficult.”

     The mention of Vulcan brought the captain on edge.

     “Of course, mental affinity is of paramount concern in choosing a lifemate.”

     “We share a connection already,” Jim asserted quickly.

     “Yes,” Spock replied. He pronounced it reverently, gazing into Jim’s eyes.

     This was something that they had never openly discussed, but it had always seemed to have been there. First appearing as an unusual affinity, and then later, after Spock’s aborted pon farr, as more substantial awareness of the other’s presence. 

     Jim felt keenly possessive as he remembered T’Pring’s icy stare. Sixteen…no, seventeen months ago he had woken up in sickbay with sand in his clothes and sweat stinging the cut across his chest and a pounding headache. He had immediately forgotten all of that in the brilliance of his friend’s unexpected smile. 

     “Less than a marriage, but more than a betrothal?” Jim chose his words precisely.

     The space seemed to warm between them. “If you wish to consider it that way,” Spock said. “It is somewhat equivalent, though developed spontaneously instead of having been constructed by a healer.”

     Spock took a small step forward. “Jim, our telepathic resonance is quite extraordinary, particularly for a partnership involving a psi-null member. Its significance should not be underestimated. However, until now I was not certain of your own wishes with regard to our relationship. I surmised that you were engaged in your own reflections.”

     “You’re correct, as always,” Jim said finally. He paused, thinking about it. “Being with you is as necessary as breathing.” He shrugged. “I decided to stop trying to hold my breath.”

     “Indeed?” 

     “Indeed,” Jim replied. He smiled. “May I kiss you?” He waited for the inevitable raised eyebrow. “In the human fashion,” he clarified.

     Again, there was no hesitation. Spock moved even closer and cupped Jim’s jaw in his hands. Jim sighed into the warmth of his beloved’s skin and breath and closed his eyes, surrendering to the feeling of Spock’s mouth on his. Gentle at first, soft brushes that worshipped his lips, and then firmer pressure: commanding heat and strength. It was more intoxicating than the wine, and the sense of inevitability came again. It was freefall, the heat of the sun, welling arousal, immersion. Jim had to reluctantly break away to finally catch his breath.

     “Damn,” he murmured and caught Spock’s smile just before they fell together again. Still waters certainly do run deep, he projected playfully, confident in their existing connection and Spock’s sensitivity to him.

     You are my life.

     The simple phrasing caught him, and he broke away again to look into dark eyes made even darker in the shadowed forest. The thought, and the emotion behind it, had flowed into his mind with Spock’s voice as if Jim’s brain knew exactly what to do with it. There was no coy diversion here, no winking flirtation or ambiguity, no games. It was simple logic: Spock loved him, and therefore offered everything he was. 

     And Jim, desperate to have this man always at his side, met that offer with fierce, human affirmation. “I love you,” he said immediately, gripping Spock’s arms. “I love you! You know that, right? You can feel it?”

     I do know, t’hy’la.

     The multiple meanings of the Vulcan word rang between them and Jim found himself breathless yet again. The draw between them intensified into something nearly palpable and Jim pressed against his friend’s body. He moaned as their lips came together again and again. I wanted this so much. With his eyes closed and surrounded with the heat and scent and taste of his friend, he could sense whispers of thoughts not his own, untamed emotion, passion rising up to meet every place they touched. He moaned again and wondered if it was possible to crawl into another person.

     Now, it was Spock’s turn to break their kiss. “I must revise my previous statement,” he growled, his lips moist.

     “How so?” Jim shifted in his lover’s hold, moving his body in a sinuous, calculated way. He could barely stand even the smallest separation.

     Spock’s voice hitched. “Our connection is quite…stronger…than I had considered. You…your mind is incredibly…” He seemed to be having some trouble putting the words together. “It is difficult to control.”

     “So what happens when we make love?”

     Spock made a low, dangerous sound and clutched at him. “Jim.”

     “It’ll bond us, won’t it?”

     “Jim.” Spock was almost pleading as his hands ran up and down Jim’s back, his sides.

     “Won’t it?”

     “I have never experienced this…this desire…this…longing for another. Mating during…during my time should lead to a full bond.” He faltered. “I am not familiar with another way.”

     Jim leaned in. “I think this is it,” he said as he pressed soft kisses along his partner’s jawline. “We already had this link, didn’t we? Even when you went down to her, you were already mine. That link was only a scaffold; ours comes from a much deeper place. Want to know how I can be so sure? Because you’re here now. You didn’t die when you released her. You’re mine.”

     Spock kissed him again, and Jim knew that it was settled. Forever, forged in the heat of a thousand moments of terror, joy, discovery, and love and confirmed here, as they finally, finally touched as lovers.

     Jim pulled away only to grab Spock’s hand, entwining their fingers in a most lascivious way. The house he had rented was indeed not far. In any normal situation, it would have been a lovely walk in the waning sunlight. Now, the surroundings were a blur, the surroundings too brightly colored and irrelevant in their passage. Jim’s hand was tight and sweaty around Spock’s. Neither cared a whit for the Vulcan impropriety of it.

     They passed down a side path, skirting the edge between glowing lights and people and the cool darkness of the forest. Through an old stone archway and into another courtyard. Small houses appeared on either side of them, set among lush vegetation and far enough from each other to preserve the seclusion of those inside. The scent of flowers wafted pleasantly around them as Jim guided them up one of the short walkways and to the wooden door of their house. He punched in a code and pushed the door open, his body taut with desire, his mind practically vibrating.

     Feverishly, Jim glanced back to see shockingly wanton, wild desire on the countenance of a man who had, quite recently, nearly died before even speaking of his culture’s sexual habits. 

     Jim paused. And then he let go of Spock’s hand.

     “I don’t want to push this,” Jim said unevenly. It sounded ridiculous. It looked ridiculous with an erection clearly visible through his jeans, but he did note how Spock’s shoulders seemed to relax as their immediate contact broke and Jim’s emotional transference diminished. The wildness in dark eyes seemed to calm slightly and Jim saw his partner swallow and take one deep breath and then another. Spock tilted his head in that curious, endearing way he had and simply stood there, hands at his sides.

     Jim had seen his friend forced into demonstrable emotion by drugs and aliens and goddamned space pollen. He had watched Spock be cruelly misunderstood, blamed, or demeaned for reactions that were not human. Jim had no wish to add another burden like that and no matter the physicality that had come before. 

     “I want you to be, to feel–” Jim hesitated. Protected? Safe? It seemed silly saying this to a being who possessed three times his strength, but Jim knew, better than anyone else, how easily this man’s gentle soul could be wounded. “We could,” he offered a lopsided grin, “watch the stars and just hold hands. If you want?”

     Spock reached out to place a hand at the small of Jim’s back, making an elegant gesture towards the open door as he guided Jim inside. “If you would not mind, t’hy’la, I believe that the very next thing I want to do will require privacy.”

     Jim allowed himself to be guided into the small house, more of a large suite, opulent in an understated way. It was richly colored beneath sultry lighting and smelled like warm apple cider. He caught a glimpse of one of the two bedrooms as Spock firmly shut the front door. Their bags stood just to the side of the entry and Jim was careful not to trip over them as they faced each other. He was expecting to be kissed, and perhaps he was, but this time it was in a very Vulcan way.

     Spock’s gaze was encompassing, his fingertips deft and warm where they traced exotic patterns across the skin of Jim’s face. A psychic awareness was building from the connection they shared and the motions, though not pressing any harder, seemed increasingly intense. It was intimacy, held on the cusp of eroticism, centered on his meldpoints.

     “May I touch your mind?” Spock asked.

     “It feels like you already are.”

     “I will stop if it becomes overwhelming or–”

     “No!” Jim said quickly. “No, please, continue.”

     “Jim, I also wish you to feel safe with me, particularly given the combat in which I–” He swallowed deeply and continued, “I…cherish your emotions. They inflame me.”

     “The sense of your mind inflames me. This,” Jim gestured between them, careful not to disturb Spock’s brushing fingers, “is so beautiful.” The captain’s mind flashed over images of the two of them locked together, mind and body, limbs intertwined. But this wasn’t the kalifee. In Jim’s mind, Spock’s fingers curled around his face and their heads were thrown back in vivid, shared pleasure.

     Spock made a small, strangled noise. The wildness was back in his eyes, his lips parted. “I must admit,” he began somewhat roughly, “that human imaginative faculties are extraordinary.”

     “It feels even better in reality,” Jim whispered. He locked eyes with his lover and, as Spock’s fingers continued their soft roamings, he turned his head to capture a forefinger with his lips.

     Spock openly gasped and, emboldened, Jim flicked the digit with his tongue, drawing it in just enough so that his teeth grazed skin.

     A string of muttered Vulcan words ended with Spock’s mouth on Jim’s and long fingers curled into his hair. This kiss was somehow more. Deeper, devouring: Jim could sense their minds nearing, sparks bursting at the very edges between them. He could feel Spock’s yearning for the deeper mind touch, matching Jim’s own need to have nothing between their bodies.

     “The bedroom,” he gasped wetly against Spock’s mouth. He grabbed two handfuls of Spock’s shirt and tugged him backwards. They moved in nearly perfect synchronicity, never losing contact. Jim’s hands clung tight and desperate and Spock’s slid over his beloved’s body. Into the nearest bedroom and Jim released his hold as Spock’s legs hit the side of the pristinely-made bed.

     “Let me,” Jim said as he slid to his knees in front of his friend and reached for the fastening of Spock’s pants.

     Spock managed a nod, his eyes nearly black in the simulated candlelight. His fingers hovered against Jim’s head as if he couldn’t bear to have them anywhere else.

     Jim coaxed his partner’s trousers and underwear down and leaned closer to nuzzle at the soft hair there. Spock’s erection nudged at the side of his face and he rubbed his cheek along it, eliciting another choked noise from above. Jim breathed in deeply; he loved using his mouth to pleasure a partner. It was so immediately intimate, so incredibly satisfying. And to be able to do this with Spock was desperately exciting. 

     He moved slowly, taking his time to caress silky, sweet-smelling skin over powerful hardness, using one hand to guide his lover’s penis fully into his mouth as he reached behind to knead a buttock, feeling Spock’s legs widen in response and a small thrusting motion begin. He tasted the cinnamon of exuded slipperiness as he moved his lover’s erection in and out of his mouth. He reveled, making it wet and sloppy and loud. Spock’s hands cradled his scalp, each finger a point of warmth and sensation. Any barriers between them were coming down; Jim could hear whispers; he felt another’s building pleasure; he sensed awe and devotion and astonishment. He was praised and cherished and adored within a thick, comforting blanket of Vulcan telepathy and when Spock climaxed, Jim held him there, swallowing carefully around his penis until the psychic echoes of his silent cry vanished. The pleasure continued to vibrate between them, making the room hazy and Jim’s own erection ache.

     Jim released him and sat back on his heels, watching. Spock had lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, his pants around his ankles. He appeared shell-shocked. “I–” He seemed to gather himself. “Jim, you–”

     “Did you enjoy that?”

     “Yes. Quite.” Spock blinked and then raised an eyebrow. “The physical expression of love is…can be most gratifying. I must confess that I did not realize the potential of it.”

     Jim let out an easy chuckle and then saw that his friend was serious. He wiped a hand across his mouth. “You’ve never orgasmed before?”

     “I have, but I was not in my right mind.” Spock noticed Jim’s quizzical look. “At the kalifee. After the,” he cleared his throat, amending, “during the combat.”

     “I see.” Jim licked his lips and adjusted himself. “And, forgive me for asking, but–”

     Spock shrugged endearingly. “Activities with others resulted in release, but not,” he exhaled, “this.”

     “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

     Spock’s eyes narrowed slightly and Jim felt the atmosphere in the room shift.

     “T’hy’la,” Spock said, “please remove your clothes. I wish to share my revelatory experience.”

     Jim made an involuntary noise, captivated with the sight of his partner flippantly kicking away his pants and boots, lean muscles shifting in the shadows as his tunic followed. Spock sat on the edge of the bed, hands loosely folded, eyes piercing, nude and patient under Jim’s gaze. The moment was breathless. Jim was suddenly a flurry of movement, a struggle against his own clothing. He had risen to his feet. He had pulled off his boots and tugged his shirt over his head and now stood, bare, sweat beading on his body with the effort and the intensity of the situation, his penis erect and jutting forward.

     Spock rose, too, and gently rubbed his hands together in that thoughtful way he had before a meld. Close your eyes, t’hy’la.

     Jim obeyed, and licked his lips involuntarily, and then Spock’s hands were on him. Jim’s entire focus was riveted on the resumption of their telepathic synergy. His sharp arousal abated somewhat as he allowed Spock to take control. It was so easy to be guided to lie face-down on the bed onto cool sheets miraculously revealed. It was so pleasant to savor the anticipation and wanting between his legs and he shifted his hips to lazily rub his erection against the bed.

     His lover’s hands continued to mold him, stroking along his muscles, applying pressure, making his body sing and relax and want and reach all at the same time. Every part of him was deepening into the thickening resonance between their minds. It was like a meld, but with an incredible awareness of his own form.

     He was turned onto his back seemingly without any effort on his own part. He shivered at the dampness left on the sheet by his waiting erection. And then Spock’s touch took over again, kneading, caressing, possessing him with intimate knowledge of his own body’s reaction and needs. Fingertips moved along his face, tracing psi points, and then the nature of the motions shifted.

     The touches were just as measured, just as gentle, but there was now a naked emotional need behind them that stoked a steadily rising fire. Jim let out a moan and his hips jerked as his arousal peaked again. Commanding hands slid down his torso, owning him, loving him, and Jim arched his back, desperate for anything…anything… .

     Please.

     He meant to whisper it, but the word appeared between them in thought only. Jim felt his partner’s instinctive response. There was a sudden expansion of their shared mental landscape, a surge of incredible devotion, and then perfect, sucking heat descended over his penis. Those hands held him steady, cradled his testicles and stroked even lower, and Jim’s raw cry echoed in every layer of their connection. The pleasure reverberated through his entire body and into their minds and back again and then he was helpless and limp in its wake.

     He had to remember how to breathe again, and each breath was shared with the man next to him. They lay together with their arms around each other, bodies and minds revealed to each other.

     “I’m so happy,” Jim whispered. “I love you.”

     The resonance had not faded and his words held layers of meaning merged with shared perception.

     Spock hummed and reached down for the blanket. He tugged it haphazardly over them and settled back.

     Jim gently stroked his partner’s hair and traced a pointed eartip with his fingers. “I think you’ve been holding back whenever you’ve offered me a backrub,” he said teasingly.

     “I have imagined touching you in that way,” Spock murmured. “Using the va’estuhl.” A shiver of complex and ancient significance accompanied the Vulcan word. “Your body is beautiful. Your mind is… .” His voice caught. “I do not have the words.”

     “I feel it,” Jim said. “I do feel it.”

     “Our link is growing stronger. Even in this small space of time, it has deepened considerably.”

     “It’ll form a bond all on its own.”

     “Evidently. Given our compatibility, I should have known that such closeness may accomplish a full joining.”

     “How would you know? Your only comparison was that link with–”

     “Do not say it,” Spock broke in. “I won’t have that spoken of when I can see what we might have together. She barely tolerated me. She held my mind apart from hers. I accepted it because I knew nothing else. Now?” He shifted to cradle Jim’s face in his hands. “Your mind is so open to me. More, you reach out to me. You reach for me.”

     Jim turned his head to place a gentle kiss on Spock’s palm. “And I always will.” He moved his hips against his lover’s. His own body was so responsive to Spock’s own arousal and he smiled into a kiss.

     It started lazily. A gentle and searching press of lips slowly deepened into open-mouthed passion. They had tasted the psychic measure of their love for each other and now pure physicality was striving for dominance.

     “Damn.” Jim nipped at his partner’s full lower lip and flipped them both over so that he was on top. He pulled away momentarily, pressing his palms over Spock’s chest and simply looking. He was so excited by just looking, with just feeling the other man’s hard body under him.

     I want you.

     His mind shouted it even as he tried to calm his reactions and the explicit visuals that were pouring through his heated mind. He didn’t want to overwhelm his partner. He had only done it himself once or twice–

     “Yes,” Spock said out loud. “Yes. I wish to experience that with you.” His eyes were narrowed again and Jim could sense jealousy beneath the arousal.

     Jim leaned closer. “I’m yours,” he said vehemently.

     The jealousy was ruthlessly quashed. “I apologize.”

     “No.” Jim flattened his body over his lover’s, molding into him, kissing him as if he were breathing life into him. The action sparked a memory of kneeling in the dirt on an alien world as he attempted to resuscitate his dearest friend’s limp body. Another memory flashed of their ship in danger as her captain used sex to gather essential information. It would always be the mission and the ship and the crew and their own sacrifices, whether it be useful gratification or their very lifeblood, would not end no matter what happened in this room.

     “I’m yours,” Jim repeated. “And you’re mine. In every way that truly matters. In every way that someone can be for another.”

     “Yes.”

     “I want the bond.” Breathless again.

     “Yes.”

     “I want it now. What do we need to do?”

     Spock’s hands tightened over Jim’s body in emphasis. “Given that this experience is my only reference, I believe that continuing as we are will accomplish what we wish.”

     “Continuing.” They were both hard, with human sweat and natural Vulcan lubrication contributing erotic slickness between their bodies.

     “Continuing…ah, Jim.” Spock’s hands gripped impulsively tighter and then released, his fingers carding through Jim’s hair as he arched up into his partner. “Fascin…fascinating.” The telepathic density was increasing again and making time itself seem to slow.

     “But, I’ll know, right?” Jim’s words were muffled against the skin of Spock’s neck. His body was supported by his best friend’s strength. His mind was cradled with inhuman love. He let himself soften into it, reaching out for it, just as Spock had said.

     A soft chuckle came from beneath him. “It is so close already.”

     “So am I.” Jim pulled back, grinning, punch-drunk. “Are you laughing?”

     Please, t’hy’la. Spock turned over, arching beneath him.

     Hopelessly excited, Jim’s hands slid over Spock’s lean, muscled back and over taut buttocks. He reached around to stroke over alien hardness, gathering slick to ease the way before slipping his fingers into even tighter heat. Spock let out a desperate cry and pressed his hips back into his lover’s hand.

     Their world had contracted and the psychic webbing was drawing them closer and closer. Jim perceived his partner’s mind as quicksilver lights, as colors, as images, words, and emotions intertwined and beautiful. He knew when Spock’s body was ready to accept him. He knew he was causing no pain. Everything inside of him radiated to everything held by this other, infinitely precious being.

     Now. Now!

     It happened so easily. Not a restriction, hardly a binding, instead, it was a natural blending and a familiar path. It was a place of joining and a shared peace. It ebbed and flowed around them as their bodies joined and their physical need for each other pulsed into their shared space. Jim discovered that he was fully sheathed inside his lover as his blood pounded in his ears and a delicious intense pressure throbbed across his groin.

     “Are you…are you alright?” he managed, his voice sounding unfamiliar. His body was begging him to move.

     “I am,” Spock muttered, his head bowed and his body strung tight under his lover’s. “I need you to dispense with…with your restraint.”

     Jim grunted and started to thrust carefully and slowly. Below him, Spock made a frustrated noise and pushed back, grinding his hips into Jim’s.

     “More!” Spock demanded hoarsely. “I will not break. You will not hurt me. More!”

     Jim shouted and thrust with all his strength as he curled his arms under Spock’s shoulders and let his weight push them flat onto the bed. He paused only to kick his lover’s legs wider apart and moaned, moving faster, the scent of sex in the air feeding his passion. He felt Spock’s own pleasure surging through every point of contact and he bent his head against Spock’s bowed neck as his body ran away with him.

     Their intimacy stretched into their minds, the heat building even there. Their bond was a wildfire, inescapable, and Jim wanted to burn.

     “Damn,” Jim gasped, any reserve fully collapsing. “I love you. I wanted to fuck you so badly. You feel so good.”

     “T’hy’la.” The word was muffled in the sheets, and Jim felt his lover push up and turn them to the side so he could freely grasp Jim’s hands. “Fuck me, Jim.”

     Pleasure took wing between their minds as Jim let out a wholly uncontrolled sound at Spock’s voice saying those words.

     “Say that again!” Jim gasped. “Tell me…tell me…!”

     The sharp prick of teeth on the side of Jim’s thumb, and that deep voice murmured with inhuman sensuality, “Fuck me.”

     Jim hooked a leg over Spock’s for better leverage as he continued to thrust, grunting unabashedly with each motion of his hips. The pressure in his genitals grew unbearable and he wrenched one of his hands loose to stroke Spock’s erection. He licked his lover’s neck and then inelegantly against his mouth as Spock craned his head, and they gasped together in impossible pleasure as their bodies peaked. Jim pressed his hips fully against his lover’s body, grinding, his penis throbbing as Spock ejaculated over Jim’s hand and shouted his name.

     Their bodies were shaking in reaction as their minds clung together. Waves of sensation continued to roll in the shared sanctuary of their bond. They were holding each other too tightly and then not tightly enough and Jim let out a forlorn sound as he finally slipped from his lover’s body. He felt tears sting his eyes and Spock turned to fully hold him.

     No, no, t’hy’la. You are still here. Still with me. Always.

     The words echoed in his mind and Jim closed his eyes, leaning into the feeling of this new togetherness. Here, he was beloved. Here, he was safe. He considered it as their bodies slowly relaxed against each other, sharing warmth between them in the absence of the kicked-away blankets.

     “I never,” Jim cleared his throat and finally opened his eyes, “thought two beings could be this close. And isn’t it funny that it’s the two of us?”

     “Specify.” Spock’s voice sounded equally wrecked, and his expression was hazy, a smile playing about his lips.

     “You and I have been independent to a fault. It seemed to be a part of the job. A part of the command persona. A requisite for duty.” Jim huffed. Well, I suppose I insisted to myself that it was a requisite for duty. I knew we belonged together and I wanted it in whatever way we could manage it. I loved you so much. I love you so much.” He shifted against his partner, easing cramping muscles. “I would never have been fulfilled without this. I would have always been hungry without this.” He shook his head. “I’m a greedy bastard, my friend.”

     “I will not allow you to speak of my bondmate in that way,” Spock said pertly.

     Jim shot him a side-eye. “Maybe I’m not the only one who’s just gotten everything he’s wanted.”

     “Indeed.” Spock exhaled and stretched. “Perhaps I am a sensualist, after all.”

     Jim laughed out loud. “Please let me tell Bones you said that.”

     “Never,” Spock replied.

     Jim felt a fine trembling begin along his partner’s body. “You’re cold,” he observed, “and we’re a mess. Shower?”

     Spock glanced down, assessing the situation. “It would be unwise for two such newly bonded persons to separate.”

     “Shower together.” Jim playfully ruffled his bondmate’s hair. “You knew I meant that.”

     “I must maintain some semblance of dignity,” Spock retorted.

     “Of course.” Jim was already anticipating the pleasant steam of the shower and their bodies together, naked, slippery with soap and luxurious bath oil. He smiled. “Well, no one can fault our efficiency. Barely a day into our leave and we’ve already managed to get married. I wonder what else we’ll accomplish?”

     An elegant eyebrow arched. “I believe I now possess enough data to make a reasonable prediction.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

     Sunlight on his face. The roughness of clothes felt incongruous against his skin after close to three days of wearing nothing at all. Jim smiled to himself as he sat in the cafe’s courtyard. A glass of Amarathian whiskey with ice glinted in the sun in front of him. He could sense his bondmate’s presence nearby, quiet and focused. On his way.

     Clothes seemed new again, and so did being apart. Never and always touching and touched. The phrasing meant far more sense now, and Jim still experienced a pang of consternation at the thought of anyone else having had any of this, even peripherally. He was a greedy bastard, indeed.

     They still had plenty of time to themselves. No need as yet to inform anyone else of this new aspect of their relationship. It was a glorious privacy that made Jim feel the slightest bit smug. He had entered a lifebond with his best friend, a man whose brilliance was renowned in the Fleet, a man whose gentle nature and subtle humor made Jim happy to simply be in his presence. A man who knew Jim better than anyone else ever had, and who loved him unconditionally. Jim was enjoying the rare chance to pause and to savor. To truly appreciate what he had.

     And if I lose him?

     The spectre of danger and death, presently banished to the shadows, still lurked. Too many hours had been spent by each of them sitting watch over the other in sickbay for that fear to be completely forgotten.

     Jim.

     His bondmate’s mental voice thrilled him.

     “You caught me daydreaming,” Jim said, smiling up at his partner and offering a Vulcan kiss. 

     Spock met his fingers and let the touch linger as he sat down across from the captain. “You are worrying,” he said quietly.

     “Not really,” Jim said. He tilted his head. “No more than I’ve ever done when it comes to you.”

     A waitress appeared and Spock ordered the same drink as his bondmate.

     “You? Whiskey?”

     “Mr. Scott has spent significant time arguing its attributes.”

     Jim chuckled and waited for Spock’s drink to appear before raising his glass. “To new beginnings,” he said.

     “To you, my t’hy’la,” Spock answered. He sipped his drink and lifted an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

     “So where did you walk to?”

     “I had an errand,” Spock said.

     “Oh?” Jim crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know, it’s good that we can still keep secrets from each other. As close as your mind feels, it’s not intrusive or,” he searched for the word, “inhibiting? I don’t know how to explain it. Starfleet will approve of being able to maintain operational security.”

     Spock took another, fuller, sip and watched him. “Given that our joining has thus far aligned with Vulcan custom, I wished to purchase something in recognition of human tradition.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and set a small wooden box on the table between them.

     Jim kept eye contact as he reached forward. The box was smooth and satisfying to his touch and still warm from its proximity to Spock’s body. He opened it, seeing two gold rings. Spock’s countenance was impassive, hands folded neatly on the tabletop. Their bondspace, however, held anxiety and anticipation.

     Jim smiled, projecting all his own emotions to stream between them. “They’re perfect,” he said. “You wanted to wear one, too?”

     “Yes,” Spock said. “I welcome the acknowledgement of our commitment.” He paused. “Is it appropriate?”

     “Very.” Jim removed the rings and looked them over before guessing and sliding one on. He held the other up. “May I?”

     Spock unfolded his left hand and offered it across the table and Jim slid the matching ring onto his finger.

     “Perfect,” Jim affirmed. He sipped his whiskey, pleased to watch the sunlight glint on his ring. “Spock, how do you think this will go when we return to the ship?” He waved the glass. “Not between us, of course, but with the crew and Command.” He raised both eyebrows. “With Bones.”

     “A life commitment is not unheard of between the command team of a starship, as you know,” Spock said. “I cannot predict what Doctor McCoy’s reaction will be, however, given the undercurrents of gossip within the crew and even within the Admiralty, I believe that the only surprise will be that we did not formalize our relationship earlier.”

     “What gossip? The Admiralty?”

     Spock calmly sipped his drink. “Vulcan hearing is frequently underestimated, particularly towards the end of cocktail parties.”

     “I see.”

     “Gossip is irrelevant, Jim. I required my own judgement and desires to align. Further, I did not wish to impose upon you.”

     “Logically, I understand and am grateful. Emotionally, I wish you had imposed on me. For a captain whose, as Admiral Yu put it, ‘dynamic approach to problems brought me unparalleled success’, I seem to have been somewhat stubborn in this regard. And what won out was hardly logic. I simply couldn’t bear not having tried.”

     They watched each other fondly across the table, enjoying their drinks and the ordinariness of it all. Jim thought back to mission after mission, watching his first officer work, sunlight catching the amber tones in Spock’s dark hair. Desire was subtly building between them again and the freedom they had to indulge it felt luxurious.

     Jim took a final sip and closed out their tab on the service console. “Want to get out of here?”

     Spock nodded, replacing the empty box in his coat pocket. The waitress, obviously having observed their exchange of rings, murmured quiet congratulations as they passed.

     Jim reached out to take his husband’s hand as they walked together out into the street. Another couple out enjoying the sun with eyes only for each other. The concept was hardly novel to the world at large, but for them? 

     “A new adventure for us, Spock?” Jim said. He could not stop smiling.

     “As always, Captain,” Spock replied affectionately, "wherever you lead, I shall follow.”

THE END

Author’s Note: I do not own Star Trek and I make no money from this.