The BLTS Archive- The Same Mistake
by Isla (islaofhope@aol.com)

---

Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom are the owners of all things Star
Trek--no infringement on copyright is intended and no money is being
made from this fan fiction.

Feedback:  Both negative and positive feedback is desired.  Even
flames are interesting and inspirational.

Betas:  Many thanks to Animasola, Hafital, Jat Sapphire, and T'Aaneli.
I'm greedy.  I love my betas too much to go without!  And this story
is so very strange that I sent the first draft off to each of them
asking, "Should I just hit delete?"  My gratitude to J.S. Cavalcante,
who betaed the first version posted to KSOF, and gave me some
invaluable suggestions for improving the story.

Special thanks: to kira-nerys for her inspiration (as well as a
heartfelt 'thank you' for her hard work on both this fest and the
Spock FuhQ Fest). She's been begging me to write additional "First
Times."  I have four of them in this story.  Will that hold you for a
while, Kira?

Part of the Kirk/Spock Online Festival.

Challenge: Kirk is lonely, bored, and angry on Earth; his marriage to
Lori just broke up.  And Spock is about to enter his final rites as a
Kolinahr. No V'ger to prevent this.  Will Kirk just let this happen?

Note:  "The Same Mistake" was inspired by my story "The Dohlman's
Alternative."  Not necessary to read before you read this one.

Also, I was inspired by "Mess" by Ben Folds (1999).  I've been
listening to the song for months.  Now I've written the right story
that goes with it.

---
. . and i can't be changed
all alone as i've learned to be
in this mess
i have made the same mistakes
over and over again . . .
--

Kirk pushed the data solid across his desk.  The one that contained
the apology--actually, a confession and an apology--from his best
friend.  At least, he'd thought that Spock was his best friend.  He
hadn't known what Spock had done to him when they served together on
the Enterprise.  He had played and replayed the message a dozen times
since he'd received it a week ago.  But he still didn't really
understand it.

McCoy had been solicitous when Kirk had told him that Spock was
resigning his commission to go to Gol.  He had felt some sadness, but
he respected Spock's choice to embrace his Vulcan heritage instead of
joining him at Starfleet Headquarters.  McCoy had hovered worriedly
around Kirk, asking him why he didn't go after Spock.  It was only one
of the things that Kirk and McCoy had argued about before Bones
resigned, too.
 
"Jim." 

He looked up at Lori standing in the doorway to his office, her arms
crossed, her expression controlled.  Her dress uniform emphasized her
cool beauty. Not a hair out of place.  She was always in control of
herself.  In meetings. At Starfleet parties.  When they had made love.
And when they had argued.

No, they hadn't really argued.  They had merely stopped talking to
each other.  Except for occasional sarcastic comments.  After he
checked out emotionally on the relationship before the first year was
over, the second year had been painful for both of them.  They had
stopped making love long ago.

Even before the message had come from Spock, Kirk was already
depressed, mostly over the triviality of his job.  He had begun to
question everything that he knew about himself.  Had the message made
it worse or had it begun to explain his confusion?

He stood up, resting his hands on the desk, and attempted to smile.
"Lori. What can I do for you?"

She smiled back, faintly.  "I wanted to let you know that I just moved
the last of my clothes out of the apartment."  She walked forward and
held out her hand.  "Jim, it was fun."

He stared at her blankly.  It had been fun at first.  They had
attended countless parties and sat up for hours "dissecting" their
friends and acquaintances after.  One of the joys of intimacy.

"But I think we're doing the right thing by breaking it off before
anyone got hurt," Lori said.

Before anyone got hurt?  He should be glad that Lori wasn't hurt by
the break-up.  It had been a mutual decision not to renew their
marriage contract.  But it seemed wrong somehow that she felt nothing
about the end of their marriage.

That was unfair.  He didn't feel anything either.  Just overwhelming
relief that he could go home to an empty apartment at the end of a
shitty day, and he didn't need to explain himself to anyone.  Not any
more.

He walked around his desk and took her outstretched hand.  Held it in
both of his.  "Lori, if you ever need anything, let me know."

"Thanks, Jim."  Her smile became real; she brought his right hand to
her lips and kissed his knuckles.  "I had always heard that about you.
That you're a loyal friend."  She was right.  He was much better at
being a friend than at being a husband.

"I'm sorry, Lori," Kirk said.  But she was already gone.  He should
have said it sooner.  It wasn't her fault that he was unable to
respond emotionally to her.  Hell, he couldn't respond emotionally to
anyone any more.  Maybe *he* should be the one taking the Kolinahr
training.

Now that was a stupid thought.  He sank down in his chair and picked
up the data solid.  He didn't have to play it again to remember what
it said:
 
"Admiral, I wronged thee.  

I owed you an explanation before I left Terra, but I was a fool and a
coward. After I take my vows as a Kolinahr initiate in one Terran
month, I will never again contact you.  I communicate with you now to
confess my guilt and ask for your forgiveness.  I must do this to
cleanse myself before I accept the total logic of Kolinahr.

I wanted you as my own.  And I used my mental powers to awaken the
same desire in you.  It was not logical.  To take you as my own would
have required total honesty between us.  But I feared to tell you the
truth.

I touched your mind without your consent and took your memories.  When
Flint used chemical means to inspire you to love Rayna, I took that
memory from you.  I wished for you to love me instead.

I wanted you to give me freely what I had taken by force. Perhaps you
could have forgiven me if only I had confessed that I loved you.

I wronged thee, Admiral.  

You gave me your friendship, but I wanted more.  Perhaps if I had
asked you honestly for what I wanted, matters would be different
between us.  As it is, I know you, and I trust that you will forgive
me.  But we will never see each other again.

Live long and prosper,

Spock cha Kolinahru"  

He dropped the data solid and turned to the messages displayed on his
computer.  The first was a reminder that he'd agreed to attend a
reception at the Vulcan Embassy.  Kirk had always enjoyed his contact
with the Vulcan ambassador.  Until this message from Spock.  But he
had too much pride to admit that he was afraid of Vulcan mental powers
now.

---

"James."  

Kirk flinched when Sarek walked up behind him.  It had been hot inside
the Embassy, and he had walked out on the balcony to stare up into the
night sky.
 
"Ambassador."  He looked at the dignified Vulcan and saw lines on that
seemingly ageless face.  Weariness?  Or grief over the son who now
signed his correspondence as Spock cha Kolinahr instead of Spock cha
Sarek?

He and Sarek had talked earlier of Federation politics and the
nominees for T'Pau's replacement on the Vulcan Council.  Sarek had
introduced him to the new members of the Embassy staff who had arrived
from Vulcan earlier that week.  He knew enough Vulcan language and
custom to realize that Sarek had introduced him as he would a family
member.

"You are thinking of Spock."  It wasn't a question.  Sarek tucked his
hands inside his robe.   He was probably uncomfortable in the damp fog
that surrounded the balcony.  Spock would have been, and Kirk would
have sensed that discomfort even if Spock denied it.

Sarek came a step closer.  "I find that my mind is on Amanda.  It is
possible during the day to distract oneself with work, but in the
evenings . . . " Sarek's eyes also scanned the night sky.

"Why didn't Amanda come with you?"  Kirk was a little uncomfortable
talking about Amanda.  Did Sarek believe that he was thinking about
Spock in the same way?

"Her work keeps her on Vulcan."  Sarek rested his hands on the
railing.  "She asked me to speak with you.  She wishes you to come to
see her.  You are welcome in our home.  She wished me to tell you: we
do not blame you for the choice that Spock made."

The breeze off the bay was suddenly cold, and Kirk wrapped his arms
around his chest.  "Maybe you should, sir."

Sarek sighed.  A human sound that Kirk had not expected to hear.
"Specify."

Maybe it was the full moon.  Maybe it was because Lori had just left,
and McCoy had gone away long before.  And there wasn't anyone to talk
to.  Maybe it was because Sarek was experienced in inspiring people to
confide in him. A useful skill for an ambassador.  Just as it was a
useful skill for the starship captain he had once been.  But, staring
out at the bright lights of San Francisco, which were slightly
distorted by the fog, he told Sarek everything.  At least, everything
that he remembered.

The silence hung between them before Sarek said, "You rejected him,
James? And that is why he went to Gol?"

"No, I never . . . "  Kirk swallowed.  "I don't know.  If I did, I
don't remember."  He rubbed his jaw.  "I don't know how I would have
reacted if he had told me the truth.  He must have believed that I
would reject him, and that's why he left."

"Initially, he may have feared it."  Sarek steepled his fingers
together. "But he trusted that you would forgive him.  That was his
conclusion after two point three five years of contemplation."

"I'm sure that he had plenty of other matters to contemplate," Kirk
said.  He could hear laughter coming up from the street, muffled by
the fog.  Behind him, inside the Embassy, a string instrument played a
tune that he had heard Spock play more than once.

"He sent his message to you."  Sarek inclined his head slightly. 

Kirk shrugged.  "Yes, he sent me a message.  I think it took a lot of
courage, but I wish that he had--"

"You do not understand, James."  Sarek placed his hand on Kirk's
shoulder. It seemed to burn through the fabric of his dress uniform.
"A Kolinahr is only permitted one message.  It is his last contact
with the world.  He chose to contact you."  Sarek took the hand away
and tucked it back into his sleeve.  "He was wrong to take your
memories, but I am sure that he had a logical reason.  Perhaps he
intended to spare you pain."  Sarek's expression became remote.

Kirk flushed and dropped his eyes to study the toe of his boot.  "I
believe that you're right.  And I forgive him.  Maybe I shouldn't, but
. . . "  He took a deep breath and looked back at Sarek.  "Spock means
more to me than you could ever know.  If he's suffering over something
that he did to me . . . "  He shook his head.  "He trusts that I
forgive him.  But I want him to know that I do.  I want him to choose
Kolinahr because he wants it, not because of some misplaced guilt over
what he did to me."

Sarek nodded slightly.  "You will accept him as your bondmate.  Amanda
will be pleased."  He turned toward the door.  "I will inform her of
this."

Kirk frowned and put up his hand as if to stop Sarek.  "I didn't say
that.  I said that I forgive him."

"It is not so simple as that, Admiral."  Sarek came back to stand at
the railing.  "If you wish to communicate with him, you must go to
him."

"Really, Ambassador?"  Resting his elbows on the railing, Kirk looked
sideways at Sarek.  "That's what you want me to do, isn't it?  You're
hoping that I can convince him to leave Gol."

Sarek tensed beside him, and then relaxed, a faint smile passing over
his features.  "I trust you will not destroy my career by allowing
word of this to 'leak out,' James.  It would not do for an ambassador
to be so transparent."

"You love him," Kirk murmured.  He shook his head.  "I don't know if
Spock realizes how much his father loves him."

Eyebrow climbing, Sarek said, "Or his former captain?"

Kirk sighed.  "We were best friends."  He stared down at his hands.
"I guess I must have failed him.  Or he wouldn't have gone to Gol
because he was afraid to tell me the truth."  He turned his back on
the lights of the city and crossed his arms on his chest.  "Sarek, can
you help me?  I want to remember.  You see . . . "  He compressed his
lips.  ". . . it seems that even I don't realize how much I love him."

---

"Do you wish a healer?"  Sarek's voice was gentle. 

Kirk shook his head.  "Can you do it?  I don't want a stranger." 

Sarek nodded.  "I believe I understand."  He pressed his fingertips
together. "When?"

Kirk straightened.  "Now?"  

"Very well.  Come."  Sarek led him back into the crowded room.
Without betraying any sense of urgency, they walked side by side,
greeting acquaintances but avoiding being drawn into any
conversations.

Kirk nearly laughed when they exited into the hall, headed for Sarek's
office.  "You're very good, Sarek.  No one could have guessed that you
couldn't wait to escape that gathering."

"And you, James."  

Kirk smiled, enjoying the ease of walking beside a close, trusted
friend. The first time he'd met Sarek, he'd been intimidated, but now
he was relaxed in his presence.  Nonetheless, some of that relaxation
vanished when they walked into Sarek's office, and he thought about
why they'd come.

"Sit.  Be comfortable."  Sarek went to the sideboard and began to
prepare tea.

Instead of sitting, he walked off some of his nervous energy, looking
at memorabilia on Sarek's walls, his desk, and his credenza.  The
middle shelf of the credenza held a holo of Kirk and Spock, which had
been taken at the end of their five-year mission--before Spock had
gone to Gol.  He picked it up, marveling at how relaxed these two men
looked together.  Why hadn't he recognized that losing Spock left a
hole in his life?  Why hadn't he tried to talk him into staying?

"James?"

Kirk put down the picture and sat down on the couch beside Sarek.  He
nodded thanks as he lifted the cup to his lips.  He breathed in the
warmth and the spicy scent.  Cardamom and cinnamon.  He closed his
eyes and conjured up a picture of Spock sitting beside him on a couch
in his quarters.  He opened his eyes, and drank the warm liquid, the
warmth sliding down his throat into his belly.

They put their empty cups on the table nearly simultaneously and
turned to gaze at each other.

Kirk smiled faintly.  "Are you sure that you're ready for this?"

Sarek's eyes sparkled, but his lips did not turn up.  "I was prepared
to ask you the same."  He put out his hands to touch the meld points
on Kirk's temples.  "Relax."

He lifted his face to Sarek, closed his eyes, and obeyed.  It was the
first time that he'd ever allowed anyone other than Spock to touch his
mind.

---

Jim walked down the empty corridor and touched the access pad to one
of the biochemistry labs.  It was late in the beta shift, so he hadn't
expected to find anyone in there, but he'd heard voices.  He hadn't
been in command of the Enterprise long enough to have met everyone on
the ship, so he was eager to meet these scientists who were working so
diligently into the night.  He stepped in the door.

And stopped.  

Gary Mitchell, his old friend from the Academy and his second officer,
and Spock, his first officer and science officer.  Mitchell was no
scientist, so it was a surprise to find him here.  Jim had sensed
tension between them before.  It was his fault, he realized.  He had
recklessly promised Mitchell that he would be the first officer of the
Enterprise, but Starfleet Command had appointed Spock over Jim's
objections.  He and Spock had already worked through their differences
by the time Mitchell had arrived.  He should have found a way to
smooth over the tension between his old friend and his new friend.

Mitchell's back was turned, but Spock's face was visible.  Neither
appeared to have heard Jim walk in.

"I'll bet he has the softest mouth in the Fleet.  Definitely, the
sweetest ass," Mitchell was saying in a low voice.  "The only tough
part is deciding where to put your cock first."

Spock's eyebrow jumped.  "Mr. Mitchell, I am not interested in your
fantasies of--"

"Fantasies?"  Mitchell laughed, and the sound caused the hairs on the
nape of Jim's neck to stand up and his stomach to flip-flop.
"Besides, don't tell me that you're not interested.  I've seen you
look at him."

Spock straightened.  "Naturally, I look at him.  It would be
disrespectful to avoid--"

"No, you don't avoid him, do you?"  Mitchell laughed and clamped his
hand on Spock's arm.

Spock shook the hand off.  "I believe that you are intoxicated, Mr.
Mitchell. Perhaps you should retire to your quarters."

Mitchell's hand clamped on Spock's shoulder.  "Why don't you join me?
Since it's clear that--"

"Mr. Mitchell."  A light green flush suffused Spock's face.

Jim stepped forward.  "Mr. Mitchell, I think you should take Mr.
Spock's advice and go to your quarters."

Mitchell and Spock both whirled around.  Grinning widely, Mitchell
moved his eyes slowly up and down Jim's body.  "Hey, kid.  I was just
telling Spock here--"

"Captain," Spock said sharply, "I did not expect to see you at this
hour."

Jim gave Spock what was intended to be a reassuring smile.  "I was
just walking around tucking in the ship.  I didn't intend to
eavesdrop.  But if Mr. Mitchell is annoying you--"

"I was just leaving."  Mitchell's grin shifted back to Spock.  "Sweet
dreams, Mr. First Officer."

"Good night, Captain."  Spock sat down in front of a computer with the
air of a man who wanted to be left alone.

Jim nodded.  "Good night, Mr. Spock.  Mr. Mitchell."  He turned and
walked out of the lab.  As he strode down the corridor, his hands were
shaking a little, and he decided that his day had been long enough.

"Jim."  A large hand grasped the back of his neck.  "That wasn't very
friendly, was it?"  He could smell the whiskey on Mitchell's breath.

"Damn it, Gary, can't you . . ." But he swallowed his words when
Mitchell wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him into the
nearest lab. Mitchell pushed him against the wall, rubbing his hard
groin against Jim's thigh.  He pulled Jim's wrists up over his head
and captured his mouth in an angry kiss that tasted more of whiskey
than desire.

Choking on the scent of Mitchell's sweat and arousal, he pulled his
hands free and pushed the other man away.  "What the hell do you think
you're doing?"

Mitchell's eyes were sparkling, and he laughed again.  "Don't tell me
you don't remember, kid."

Jim flushed.  "Spock's right.  You are drunk."  

Grabbing his right arm, Mitchell twisted it around Jim's back.
"Spock, huh?" He leaned forward and bit Jim's earlobe.  "You want the
Vulcan, don't you? That's why you're not interested in your old fuck
buddy, Gary."

He tried to push Mitchell away, but the grip was too tight on his arm.
Jim was just as strong as Mitchell, but he didn't want to send his
second officer to sickbay or end up there himself.  It had been a long
time since Mitchell had . . .  Stay calm, James T.

"Mitchell, you're drunk.  You and I have been over for a long time.
Let go now, and we'll forget this ever happened."  He grunted at the
pain as Mitchell twisted the arm a little harder.

Jim didn't want to cause a scene with Mitchell, but he wasn't going to
let this go any further.  He brought his knee up to impact Mitchell's
groin.  At least that was his intention.  But he didn't move fast
enough.

"Just like last time, Jim."  Mitchell twisted him and pressed his
forearm against Jim's carotid artery hard enough to clamp off some of
the blood supply, so that he was dizzy and nauseated.  He dug his
fingernails into Mitchell's arm.

The pressure suddenly let up.  His ears were still ringing, but he
opened his eyes slowly.  Mitchell had come to his senses, and . . .
Jim stared at Mitchell sprawled on the floor, and then looked up into
his first officer's dark brown eyes.

Spock swallowed and gripped his hands behind his back.  "I trust that
I was correct in my belief that his attentions were unwelcome."

"Yes."  Jim voice came out almost a whisper.  He cleared his throat
and tried again.  "Thank you, Mr. Spock.  I don't . . . "  He looked
down at Mitchell. "What did you do to him?"

"A nerve pinch."  Spock gazed down at Mitchell with a look that Jim
had once seen on his face when reviewing a failed scientific
experiment.  "He will wake up with sore shoulder and neck muscles, but
no permanent damage has been done."  He looked at his captain.  "Shall
I call security to put him in the brig?"

Jim shook his head.  "I'd rather not."

"Ah.  You are involved in an intimate relationship with Mr. Mitchell,
and this was merely a misunderstanding?"  Spock looked away.  "I did
not believe him.  I assumed that--"

"No," Jim said quickly.  He flushed and stared down at the toe of his
boots. "We were . . .  But it's been over for ten years."

"Apparently, he does not realize that."

Jim's chin came up, and his eyes widened as he studied Spock's face.
"Apparently."  He rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly.  "This is
embarrassing."

Spock's eyebrow lifted.  "You have done nothing for which you should
be ashamed."

Jim smiled faintly, mocking himself.  "Except choose my old lovers
unwisely."

"I might consider it unwise if you were currently involved with Mr.
Mitchell, but I would not judge you for a youthful error."  Spock's
tone was gentle.

Jim's smile widened, and he touched Spock's arm.  "I don't think I'm
going to be able to sleep for a couple of hours.  Can you spare some
time from your work?  How about a chess game?"

"That would be acceptable."  

He looked down at Mitchell.  "He'll be OK here, won't he?"

Spock spared a glance for the fallen second officer.  "No doubt he
will be awake before the alpha shift comes in.  But I cannot guarantee
that he will be of much utility on the bridge tomorrow morning."

"That's OK.  We won't be reaching the galaxy's edge for another couple
of days."  Jim led his first officer out into the corridor, and the
door slid closed behind them.

They talked ship's business as they walked.  Spock didn't seem
surprised when Jim headed for his quarters instead of the rec room
where they usually played.  Spock had a suggestion for a replacement
navigator.  Jim hadn't even told his first officer that he was
thinking about asking Mitchell to transfer off the Enterprise.

He offered Spock tea and decided to have the same.  They didn't set up
the chess game.  He sat down on the couch next to Spock who commented
on the books on the credenza.  Spock had read most of them on
computer, but he was curious about the experience of reading them on
paper and how it differed from reading a computer file.  A slight
smile played on the Vulcan's face as Jim passionately described the
experience of holding a book in one's hands and turning the pages.

"You're laughing at me," Jim said, refilling Spock's cup.

"I?"  Spock shook his head and sipped his tea.  "Vulcans do not engage
in such behavior."  But his eyes were sparkling.

Jim looked down and smiled into his cup. "I think Mitchell was wrong."

"Specify."  Spock's response was curt, but the tone was infinitely
gentle, and peering through his eyelashes, Jim could see his lips part
slightly as he stared at Jim.

Spock's gaze warmed him as he put his cup carefully on the table.
"When he was talking about the softest mouth in the Fleet, he should
have been talking about you, Spock."  He liked the feel of Spock's
name on his tongue.  He took the cup out of his friend's hand, their
fingers brushed together, and he placed that cup down on the table,
too.

Spock swallowed and extended a hand to lightly touch Jim's lips.  "Ah.
This may be the first occasion when I agree with Mr. Mitchell.  He was
referring to *your* mouth."  He rubbed his index finger across Jim's
lips until they parted, and a tongue darted out.  Spock gasped softly.
"Your mouth *is* exceptionally soft."

He leaned forward slightly, Spock did the same, and their lips
touched.  Jim closed his eyes and, for a moment, their lips just
rested against each other, heat against cool.  Their lips parted, but
only by a half-centimeter, and Jim breathed in Spock's scent of
sagebrush and spices.  Spock's right hand came up to cup Jim's chin.
He already knew the strength in that hand, but now he knew the
gentleness there.

"Jim," Spock breathed.  

When Spock's lips parted to say his name, Jim's lips parted, too, and
his tongue slipped easily in, tasting the heat and the alien spice of
Spock's mouth.  He dug his fingers into the taut muscles of Spock's
shoulders. Spock's left hand went to the small of Jim's back and
caressed soothing circles.  He relaxed and moved closer, seeking the
delicious warmth that radiated off his friend.

He was suddenly lifted, carried into the sleeping area, and placed on
the bed.  "Spock!  What do you think you're doing?"  But he grinned
and began pulling off his boots.  He was glad that he'd worn his
wraparound tunic, so he didn't have to take his eyes away to pull it
over his head.  He hoped that Spock wouldn't come to his senses and
leave.  Jim told himself that he would go crazy if they stopped now.

Spock pulled off his own clothes and folded them neatly.  "In the
interest of harmony with my fellow senior officers, I wished to verify
whether I find another area of agreement with Mr. Mitchell."  He eased
Jim back onto the bed, supporting himself on his elbows, so that his
full weight wasn't crushing Jim.  They were chest to chest, belly to
belly, and cock to cock when Spock's mouth came down on his.

Jim closed his eyes and slid his arms around Spock's neck.  Spock's
lips were as soft as he had imagined.  And his tongue was hot and
sweet.  If his tongue tasted this good, he wondered what the rest of
Spock would taste like.  But he didn't waste much time wondering.
Spock was stronger, but he wasn't intent on proving it.  He allowed
Jim to roll him over on his back, and his fingers caressed Jim's hair
and the nape of his neck as Jim kissed and nibbled a path down his
body.  Spock's accelerated breathing was audible in the quiet room.

Jim smiled at the soft cry when he teased his tongue against Spock's
cockhead.  "You taste good."  He slid one hand around the base of his
friend's cock, and palmed his ass with the other hand.  He urged his
legs wider and stroked his perineum so that Spock moaned out loud.
Jim's tongue explored the thick vein on the underside of the shaft and
played along the sensitive place between the twin ridges.  Spock's
cock was big, but by relaxing his throat muscles, he could take it all
into his mouth.  He deep-throated the hot length, but when Spock
started to thrust helplessly, he backed off a little.  He used his
stroking hands on the entire shaft and sucked on the tip until Spock's
balls tightened.

"Jim!  Oh, Jim," Spock groaned out before he orgasmed.  His come was
thicker and sweeter than a human's.

"You liked that, did you?"  Jim chuckled and stretched out beside his
enervated first officer.  He leaned in to brush a kiss across Spock's
mouth.

At first, Spock was very still.  When his eyes finally opened, he said
huskily, "Your fame is well-deserved."  He slid his hand around the
back of Jim's neck and pulled his head down for a deep kiss.

"You're laughing at me again," he murmured when Spock's mouth came
away.

"I assure you," Spock said, leaving Jim sprawled on the bed as he
stood up, "I am quite incapable of laughing at you."

Jim raised himself on his elbows.  "Spock, where are you going?"  A
flutter of resentment began in his stomach.  He was still aching and
hard.

--

Spock stood beside the bed, and his eyes swept over Jim's naked body.
Although he didn't smile, his eyes conveyed appreciation.  His mere
gaze was more erotic than an entire sexual encounter with a less
skillful lover.  "I will not leave you unsatisfied.  It would be
illogical as well as unmannerly."  He tilted his head slightly.  "We
were somewhat impetuous when we commenced, and we did not prepare
appropriately.  Do you have some oil? Or some other type of
lubricant?"

Jim's mouth went dry.  Spock was going to fuck him.  His cock leapt at
the thought.  He'd heard rumors that male Vulcans were extraordinarily
dominant in bed, but he always thought that the people who spread
those rumors had overactive imaginations.  Vulcans were so controlled,
and Spock had been gentle so far.  "Um, yeah.  In the top drawer.
Unscented massage oil."  He gestured at the bedside table.  He
flushed; he knew he sounded too eager.

"Ah."  Spock sat down on the bed, and opened the vial.  "This will do
very well."

Jim's eyes widened as he watched Spock's cock harden again.  Vulcans
are insatiable.  More stupid rumors.  He felt a little foolish.  He'd
always treated Spock like a person.  He'd never thought of him as a
"Vulcan" before, but now he was thinking that he was about to be
fucked by a "Vulcan" instead of thinking about his friend, Spock.

He rolled over on his stomach and spread his legs.  He'd been
annoyed--and maybe a little scared--earlier that night when it was
clear that Mitchell wanted to fuck his ass.  But now he was curious
about what it would feel like to have Spock's hotter-than-human cock
inside of him.  He'd taken his time sucking it, so that he knew
exactly how it felt in his mouth and his hand. Up his ass was another
thing.  It had been a while since he'd been fucked. But he wanted it.
He trusted that Spock would be careful and wouldn't hurt him.

"Beautiful one."  Spock's voice was soft, almost a whisper, and his
hot fingers skimmed lightly down Jim's back and molded his ass cheeks.
"Do you believe that I am that selfish?"  His slid his hands over
Jim's inner thighs, and Jim gasped.  "I wish to give you as much
pleasure as you have given me." Spock rested a hand lightly on his
buttocks.  "Your entire body is beautiful, but I would prefer to see
your face."

Jim rolled over, his cheeks hot.  "I'm sorry.  I just assumed that . .
."  He wondered why he wasn't uncomfortable with Spock calling him
beautiful and touching him gently, almost reverently.  It was an
entirely new aspect of their relationship.  Spock had always treated
him with grave and genuine respect--once they had learned to trust
each other as captain and first officer.

Spock bent to kiss his mouth.  "There is no need for apologies between
us." He knelt between Jim's thighs, and rubbed his hands together,
before he placed them on Jim's chest and  began to massage gently.
"It was a logical assumption.  I did ask for a lubricant."

Jim closed his eyes, enjoying the light touch.  Spock was firing nerve
endings of which he had never before been aware.  "You can, you know.
Fuck my ass.  I know that it would feel good for both of us."

"Affirmative."  Spock lifted one of Jim's hands to his mouth.  "But
there is plenty of time for that."  He kissed each of the fingertips
separately.

"Spock."  Jim gasped at each contact.  "What the hell are you doing to
me? That feels incredible."

Spock didn't respond.  He replaced Jim's hand gently on the bed, his
fingers slid over pectoral muscles, and his thumbs teased at nipples.
When Jim moaned softly, Spock lowered himself to stop that moan with a
kiss that was feather-soft, but seemed to reach inside and squeeze his
chest until it ached.  Jim writhed under the hot body as Spock's lips
trailed after his fingers, as though seeking to touch and kiss every
centimeter of his skin.

Warm oil coated Jim's cock and balls, and an oiled finger slid up
inside his puckered opening.  He tried to tamp down his excitement by
calculating fuel-intermix formulas, but the sweet sensation was too
much.  His balls tightened, and he cried out incoherently as he
orgasmed.  If he'd had the breath for it, he would have laughed out of
pure joy, but he whispered, "Sorry.  I couldn't wait."  He petted
Spock's ears and the back of his head.

He must have fallen asleep.  When he woke up, his head was pillowed on
Spock's chest.  Spock's heartbeat thrummed against his hip.  He
stirred and rubbed his cheek against Spock's hard nipple.

Spock pushed back the hair off Jim's forehead and his voice was barely
a whisper when he said, "I love you, Jim."
 
Jim froze.  He hadn't expected that Spock would . . .  He admired his
friend, and the sex had been amazing, but he wasn't ready to make any
such declaration.  The only solution was to pretend that he hadn't
heard it. He yawned and in a teasing tone, he said, "So, do you,
Spock?"

Spock, his eyes still closed, massaged lazy circles into Jim's back.
"Do I what, Jim?"

"Agree with Mitchell?"  He kissed Spock's nipple and smiled when he
jumped slightly.
 
"'Fishing for compliments' is, I believe, the correct expression."
Spock raised himself on his elbow, dumping Jim off his chest, and
looked down into his captain's face.  "Is Mitchell the reason that I
am here?"  His eyes were solemn as he traced a finger along Jim's jaw.
"Captain, I will not mind.  If you wish me to tell Mitchell . . . "

"No."  Jim turned his head to kiss Spock's palm.  "You aren't here to
make Mitchell jealous.  I asked you here because you have a brilliant
mind and a beautiful body, and I enjoy being with you."  He raised his
head slightly to press a kiss onto Spock's stern lips.  "I didn't
actually plan to end the evening like this.  Maybe it was a mistake,
but I can't regret it now."  He smiled a warm smile.  "And you
shouldn't call me 'Captain' when we're in bed together."

Spock slid his arms around and pulled Jim hard against his chest.  "I
do not wish you to ever regret any time spent with me."  They kissed
until Jim moaned softly in his throat.  "In truth," Spock murmured, "I
fear that I have not conducted enough research.  I will agree that
your buttocks are pleasing to contemplate, but I have very little
experiential data."  One of his hands captured Jim's cock, coaxing it
back to life, while he slid his other hand into the oiled cleft of
Jim's ass.  "More research is indicated."

"Horny Vulcan," Jim said with a chuckle.  He twisted out of Spock's
arms to lie face down on the bed.  His breathing accelerated when
Spock spread his ass cheeks and anointed his opening with a kiss.  He
gasped and cried out when Spock manipulated his cock and balls and
probed his ass with his tongue. He expected the tongue to be replaced
with a hard cock, but Spock took him over the edge again with just his
tongue and his strong warm hands.

After, Jim rolled over and tugged Spock up to kiss his mouth.  He took
Spock's chin in his hand and placed kisses along his jawline.  "Where
did you learn to fuck like that?"

The slight smile vanished, and Spock pulled away.  "I do not believe
that interrogation is part of your right as . . . "  He turned his
head, so that Jim's hand fell away.

"As what?"  Jim gripped his shoulders.  "Your captain?  Or your
lover?"  He pushed the dark hair off Spock's forehead.  The hair that
he'd never seen mussed before tonight.  "Spock, it wasn't an
interrogation.  It was . . . um . . . sexual banter.  A compliment on
your skills as a lover."  He kissed Spock's eyelids closed.  "I didn't
intend to make you uncomfortable.  I want to make you feel good.  As
good as you make me feel."  He reached between their bellies to fondle
Spock's hard cock.  "Now what would you like me to do with this?"

Spock's only answer was a light kiss on the corner of Jim's mouth.

"So, I need to take the initiative, do I?"  Jim chuckled.  He urged
Spock to straddle his chest and plumped the pillows under his own
head.  He gripped his hips and drew the green-tinged erection into his
mouth.  Spock gasped and flattened his hands against the bulkhead.
Jim sucked at the cockhead, and massaged the shaft and balls.  Spock
moaned softly and thrust instinctively. When Jim moistened one finger
and inserted it, Spock cried out sharply.

Jim gasped for breath between strokes as Spock fucked his mouth.  He
knew that his throat was going to be sore in the morning, but he loved
the taste and texture of the alien cock.  He grasped the base of the
cock to keep it from penetrating too deep and gagging him.  When Spock
froze, Jim was ready to swallow.

Moments later, he eased Spock back onto the bed.  He kissed the tip of
his softened cock and shifted so he could kiss the tip of his nose
before he glanced at the chronometer.  "Mitchell isn't the only one
who's going to have a tough time on the bridge today."  Jim sighed and
flopped onto his back. "If it weren't already technically morning, I'd
say that I was going to hate myself in the morning."  He balanced on
his side and reached out to stroke Spock's face, which wore an
expression of complete relaxation.  Spock didn't stir at the light
touch.  "I think I'd prefer to forget what happened last night.  OK
with you, Spock?"  Without waiting for an answer, Jim rolled over,
spooning against Spock's warm body.
 
He was already half-asleep when Spock's hand slid up to stroke his
temples. Unexpectedly, the touch lacerated his skull with a sharp jolt
of static electricity, but then the pain was gone.  "What the hell was
that?" he asked, but his question came out as a tired rumble before he
relaxed into a deep sleep.

---

"What the hell was that, Spock?"  Kirk's eyes flew open, and he stared
at Sarek.  He blushed and looked away.  "I'm sorry, Sarek, but
I . . ."

Sarek poured another cup of tea.  "James, you must have known the
nature of the memories that we would resurrect."

Kirk rubbed his hand across his chin.  "How could I have forgotten
that?  I never thought of Spock as so . . . sexual."  He shook his
head.  "Why don't I remember that?"

Sarek took a sip of his tea.  "You said that you regretted what
happened. You said that you wished to forget."

Kirk stared down into his cup.  Was Sarek shocked by Spock's behavior?
And which would he find more shocking: the sex or the apparent
mindwipe?  He gave no sign that he was shocked by either action.

"He made me forget?  But that isn't what I meant when I said I wanted
to forget."  Kirk wanted to shout or hit something, but his voice came
out in a whisper.  "I wanted to forget about what Mitchell did."  He
took a sip of the tea.  "And I did forget.  I remember being
uncomfortable with Mitchell, but I didn't remember the assault."  Kirk
shrugged.  "Guess that explains why Spock knew what Mitchell was
capable of."  Kirk stood up and walked to the window. "Spock and I had
been friends for only a month or so when we went to bed together."

"It seems early to you?"  Sarek stood up to brew more tea.  "When do
you recall becoming lovers?"

Kirk walked over to the credenza and picked up the picture of himself
with Spock.  "Sarek, before I got Spock's message, I remembered him as
my best friend.  Before tonight, I didn't remember him in my bed."  He
pressed his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes.  "I don't
remember him kissing me. How could I forget that?"

"It is a pleasant memory?"

Kirk blushed and put down the picture.  "Yes, of course."  He sank
down on the couch.  "Sarek, I don't think this is such a good idea
after all: retrieving memories of my sex life with your son."

"You are angry with him for taking those memories from you?"  Sarek
warmed his hands on his cup.

Kirk started to pace the room.  "Yes, I suppose I am.  How can he have
shared . . . " He made a vague gesture in the air " . . . *that* with
me and pretended that nothing happened?  If he cared about me, don't
you think that--"

"You will not forgive him?"  

Kirk rubbed his jaw.  "It's not that, Sarek.  I can't explain."  He
stood at the door.  "I do want to thank you, but I don't think I need
the rest of the memories.  Not right away."  Kirk flashed a tired
smile.  "And when I retrieve the rest of them, I think that it's
probably better for me to do it with Spock instead of with you,
Ambassador."

Sarek's eyebrow climbed.  "You are going to Vulcan?"

Kirk rested a hand on the doorframe.  "I am.  If only to clear up a
misunderstanding from our first night together."

Sarek opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he closed it
again. After a moment, he said, "Safe journey, James."

---

"Jim, your mind isn't on the game," Bob Wesley said as he shuffled the
cards.

Kirk leaned his chair back, so he was balanced on the back legs.  "No,
I think I need to leave soon.  I was out late last night at a
reception at the Vulcan Embassy, and I didn't get much sleep."

Carol Wesley opened another beer.  "A wild party at the Vulcan
Embassy, Jim? Somehow I can't imagine it."  She took a sip of the
beer.

Grinning, Kirk said, "I didn't say it was a wild party.  I just said
it was a late night.  Ambassador Sarek and I had a lot to talk about."

"I'll bet," Wesley said, dealing the cards.  "Do you really want to
transfer to Vulcan, Jim?  I know that you're restless here at
Starfleet Headquarters, but I can't imagine that heading up the
detachment on Vulcan would be more interesting."  He shrugged.  "Of
course, you know what we both need is a ship."

"Damn," Kirk said under his breath as he let the front chair legs down
with a thump.  He looked around the table at the curiosity on his
friends' faces. "I fold," he said, dropping his cards on the table and
standing up.  At a surprised sound from Carol, he added, "I guess the
cards are telling me pretty clearly that it's time to go."

Wesley stood up and followed him to the door.  When they were alone,
Kirk said, "What makes you think that I'm transferring to Vulcan?  I'm
planning to take shore leave there next week, but I didn't even know
there was an opening at the base there."

"There isn't.  Sarek wants one created."  

A strangled laugh escaped from Kirk, but he couldn't think of anything
to say.

Wesley said, "Jim, I didn't realize that Sarek didn't mention the
transfer to you.  What do you want me to do about the request?  You
know how important Vulcan is.  Starfleet needs all the support that it
can get."

Kirk picked up his coat off the rack.  "Sarek hasn't been a big
supporter of Starfleet in the past."  He tried to keep his face smooth
as he elbowed his way into the coat.  "Just because my former first
officer is half-Vulcan, Starfleet expects me to keep Vulcan happy?"

"Your former first officer?"  Wesley crossed his arms on his chest.
"Now come on, Jim.  Everyone knows that Spock was more to you than
just your first officer."

--

"He was my best friend, but he resigned his commission to join a
monastery on Vulcan," Kirk said with more heat than he intended.  He
winced at the compassion on Wesley's face.  "I don't know, Bob.
There's something I need to do first before I make any more decisions
about my life."

"I understand."  Wesley stood in the doorway as Kirk walked down the
steps. "Good luck, Jim."

Kirk walked the five kilometers to his apartment instead of finding a
muni. It wasn't a bad night for San Francisco in the summer.  Almost
fifty degrees, and the fog wasn't all that thick.  But it was a heck
of a lot different than summer nights in Iowa.  If he wanted heat, why
didn't he just go to Iowa?  It wouldn't be spring yet on the
hemisphere of Vulcan where Gol was located, but it would already be
unbearably hot.  Oh, for the climate control of a starship!

He climbed the ten flights of stairs to his apartment instead of
taking the lift.  He recognized that he was hoping to wear himself out
so that he would sleep tonight.  Last night, it hadn't been all that
late when he got home, but he'd stared at the ceiling until the dawn
poked through the curtains.

Kirk paused next to the wet bar when he walked in, but shook his head,
forbidding himself a drink.  He kicked off his boots in the living
room and continued into the bedroom, stripping off his uniform as he
walked, leaving a trail of clothes through the apartment.  He lived
alone now, and no one would be coming by to catch him making a mess.

He threw back the covers, crawled in, and punched the pillow a couple
of times before he closed his eyes.

---

Jim didn't look up from his computer when he heard the chime at the
door. "Come," he said, touching the release.

"Captain."  Spock stepped in and waited.

Jim gestured toward a seat, but his eyes remained on the screen, and
his fingers tapped the keyboard.  "I'll be with you in a minute,
Spock."

"Are you aware of what time it is, sir?"  Spock remained standing.

"Don't you have enough to do, Spock?" Jim said with a smile.  "You're
my first officer and my science officer.  You don't need to pull
triple duty as my alarm clock."  Jim finally looked up and, as he did,
his smile turned into a grimace, and his hand flew up to the back of
his neck.  "I was just going to say that I have a perfectly good
chronometer, but now I'm wondering if I can turn my head to read it."

"Captain, if I may . . ."  Spock moved around the desk and began to
massage Jim's neck and shoulders.

Jim let out a low moan that could have been pain, but was mostly
pleasure. "How the hell do you do it?  That's exactly where it hurts."
Jim leaned back into the touch.  "Spock, you're doing quadruple duty
as my massage therapist now?"

There was a smile in Spock's voice when he said, "As first officer, it
is my duty to assist the captain in any way necessary to ensure
optimal functioning of the ship."

Jim put up a hand to cover one of Spock's.  "I won't tell McCoy, but I
think you're treading in his territory here."

Spock's hand stilled for a moment but then resumed its kneading
motion.  "I have precise knowledge of human anatomy.  It does not
require a medical degree to relieve simple muscular pain."  His warm
hands continued to caress Jim's flesh.  "Have you reported your
condition to Dr. McCoy?"

"I think I wrenched it when we beamed over to that First Federation
ship. The ceiling was low and . . . "  He sighed and shrugged
slightly.

"I do not intend to contradict you, sir, but I believe that the damage
I find here is cumulative.  Dr. McCoy would say that you carry the
entire ship . . ." Spock's right hand slid up to rest on the nape of
Jim's neck " . . . here, Jim.  The doctor's words are somewhat
fanciful, but there is some truth there.  You have a great deal of
responsibility, and if you fail to release your tension, it builds
here to cause you pain."

Jim chuckled softly.  "He's right.  You're both right.  But there
isn't a lot I can do about that.  The responsibility is mine."

Spock's hands moved again, stroking, gathering up tension and
dispersing it. When Spock reached for the hem of his tunic, the breath
stilled in Jim's throat.  "You don't have to . . . " he said, but the
touch felt too good to tell Spock to stop, so he held up his arms
obediently to allow Spock to remove the tunic. Another moan escaped
him as Spock's hands slid down to work the tension out of the middle
of his back.

"Today, for example."  Jim turned suddenly and looked up at Spock.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you.  When you--"

"When I recommended surrender, Jim?"  A slight green tinge suffused
his face, and his hands fell away from Jim's shoulders.  "You were
correct to reprove your first officer."

"No."  Jim captured both of Spock's hands in his own.  "I was too hard
on you.  McCoy calls you unfeeling, but sometimes you seem so
vulnerable."

"Only to thee," Spock breathed.  And then he closed his eyes.  "Jim, I
. . ." Still holding Jim's hands, he knelt beside Jim's chair before
he opened his eyes again.  "I came to request you to teach me to play
poker."

Jim looked down into his first officer's dark eyes.  "Poker?  I
thought McCoy offered to teach you."  But a smile spread across his
face.

Spock shook his head slowly.  "McCoy can teach me nothing."  He looked
down at their joined hands.  "What you did today to save the ship . .
. "  He shook his head again.  "When we play chess or when I observe
you analyzing a difficult tactical situation, I find that I cannot
always follow your reasoning.  But your conclusions are generally
correct even if some would say you are not logical.  You have a gift
for arriving at a unique solution."

He almost stopped breathing when Spock raised his right hand and
placed a soft kiss in the palm.  "I admire your mind," Spock said
quietly, his eyes holding Jim's.

"Oh, Spock, I . . ."  Jim brought Spock's left hand to his mouth and
kissed the knuckles.  "You're amazing . . ."  He felt a little
foolish, not knowing what else to say.  Spock was still on his knees
beside Jim's chair and words seemed inadequate.  It was much easier to
lean over and kiss Spock's mouth lightly.

"Jim, please . . ." Spock murmured.

Jim froze.  "You don't want . . .?"  Jim cleared his throat and stood
up so quickly that he knocked over his chair.  But Spock was blocking
his only route of escape.  "I'm sorry, Spock.  I didn't mean to
presume.  You must think that I'm some kind of sex-crazed--"

"No, Jim."  Spock stood up, too.  "All is well."  He moved gentle
hands over the taut muscles of Jim's shoulders, and Jim was astonished
to realize that his first officer was nearly a head taller.

"Spock."  Jim closed his eyes and leaned against Spock.  "You were
impressed by what I did today, but the truth is: I was terrified.
What if my bluff hadn't worked?  What if I was wrong to go back to
rescue the other ship? They could have been waiting to destroy us
instead of testing our compassion."

"If you were wrong . . ."  Spock's voice was a low rumble, and his
hands slid down to encircle Jim's waist, pulling their groins
together. " . . . we would not be standing here like this.  But you
were not wrong.  And we are here. It is only logical to accept what
is."

Feeling the bulk of Spock's erection rubbing against his own, Jim's
mouth went dry.  He couldn't think, and he wondered if he was going to
faint.  Now that would be embarrassing!  Spock's hand was under his
chin, tipping it up, and his breath was warm against Jim's lips.  Jim
opened his mouth, but instead of words coming out, Spock's tongue slid
in.

He lost track of time as he stood in his work area kissing his first
officer, tasting the alien spice of Spock's mouth and clutching at
Spock's biceps.  He would have made a joke about needing a chronometer
after all, but he didn't want to remove his tongue from Spock's mouth
long enough to speak.

Spock's hands roamed over Jim's naked back before they went down to
cup his buttocks, and one long-fingered hand slid between them to
trace the outline of Jim's erection.

"Spock," Jim gasped.  "I'm going to come just like this if we don't
stop."

Spock shoved Jim away, but he continued to grip Jim's shoulders.
Spock's pupils were dilated, so that his eyes appeared completely
black.  "You wish to stop, Captain?"
   
Jim shook his head but didn't trust himself to speak.

Spock nodded once and released him.  He turned to walk into the
sleeping area, appearing to assume that Jim would follow him.  Jim did
follow him. Spock sat down on the bed and bent to remove his boots.
He looked up at Jim, who stood with his back against the mesh divider,
and said, "Jim, I have said that I admire your mind, but I am also
attracted to your body.  Will you undress for me?"

Jim nodded mutely; he used the toe of his right boot to push off his
left boot and his stockinged foot to remove the right boot.  His eyes
were still on Spock when he stooped to pull off his socks.  Jim's
hands paused at the opening to his uniform pants.  Spock's lips were
slightly parted, and his dusky green tongue darted out to lick his dry
lips.  He stared at Spock's lips as he peeled down his pants and
briefs in one swift motion.

"Ah, Jim."  Spock turned and opened a drawer in Jim's bedside table
and extracted a vial of massage oil.  He placed the vial on the bed
beside him and stood up to pull his uniform tunic off his head.  He
paused to move his eyes over Jim's body, seeming to catalog every
detail, before he pulled off his black thermal top.

"It's probably too cold in here for you, Spock," Jim said suddenly,
and he walked back into the work area to raise the temperature ten
degrees.  When he came back, Spock was seated naked on his bed.  He
flushed at the sight of Spock's aroused cock.  He'd seen his first
officer unclothed before. Showering next to him in the ship's locker
room after a workout.  Landing party duty when they . . .  He
swallowed.  Spock's aroused cock was larger than he'd imagined, the
twin ridges flaring.

He walked over to the bed, and sank down on his knees between Spock's
spread thighs.  "You're beautiful," Jim said softly just before he
placed a kiss on the tip of Spock's cock.

"Jim," Spock murmured as Jim began to slowly lick the length of the
cock.  "I want . . . "  He gasped.  "I want to feel you inside me."

"Oh, God, Spock."  His hands caressed Spock's hip, massaged slowly
along his finely muscled thigh, and kneaded the quadriceps.  He
thought of the power that was in these deceptively wiry muscles.

A smile curved Spock's mouth as he made the automatic response.  "We
require the intervention of no deity.  I require only you."

"If you need me," Jim whispered against Spock's cockhead, "I won't
deny you. I could never deny you anything."  He tongued the slit,
tasting the thick, sweet fluid that leaked out.

"I do need you."  Spock pulled Jim to his feet, positioning him so he
could take his cock into his mouth.

Jim moaned at the heat and suction.  He murmured a protest as Spock's
mouth released him, but he squirmed pleasurably as hot fingers coated
his cock and balls with the oil.  He bit his lip as he watched Spock
settle himself stomach-down on the bed.

Spock's voice was slightly muffled by the pillow when he said, "Other
positions are possible, but for this first time, this would be the
most efficient position for you to penetrate me."

"Spock," Jim said, "you're amazing."  He knelt between Spock's spread
thighs and filled his palm with more oil.  Spock groaned softly and
then more loudly when Jim gently inserted his index finger.  "Don't
let me hurt you.  Tell me if it feels comfortable."

There was no sound in the room other than their breathing as Jim
caressed Spock.  When Spock began to push back against him more
urgently, he carefully inserted the tip of his cock.  He gasped as the
heat enveloped him.  The sound that Spock made was almost a whimper.

"Easy," Jim murmured, as he pushed in deeper, fighting for control.
He stroked Spock's hips and made more soothing sounds as he slid in
all the way. When he was completely buried, they both paused and low
moans of pleasure started in both throats.  Jim rested there for only
a few seconds before he began to move.  "Spock," he gasped, "how is
that?  Does it feel good?"

Spock writhed under him, and gasped, "I will never understand . . .
oh, Jim . . . yes . . . more, please . . . your tendency to ask
questions . . . oh, Jim. . . to which you already know the answer."
He pushed back strongly, and Jim cried out and climaxed.

He eased himself down and kissed the back of Spock's neck.  When he
could breath again, he murmured, "Emotional security.  Remember,
Spock?"

He chuckled as Spock rolled them over, so that he was looking up into
the warm, smiling eyes of his first officer.  He glanced down and saw
that both of their cocks were soft and nestled against each other.
"Did you . . .?"

"It was most pleasurable," Spock said, his mouth curving up slightly.

"Me, too."  Jim smiled.  He stretched luxuriously.  "And my neck feels
pretty good, too."  He rolled Spock onto his back and nestled against
him, his head cradled on Spock's shoulder.  "Do you mind if we
postpone the poker lessons for another day, Mr. Spock?"  He stroked
his hand along Spock's thigh and yawned.

"Agreed.  I find that I am also fatigued."

Jim caressed Spock's flat stomach absentmindedly.  "Maybe I'll call
McCoy and ask him to join us.  It would be more fun as a threesome, I
think."

"Spock froze.  "Dr. McCoy?  I do not understand, Captain."

Jim frowned.  It seemed like the temperature of the room had dropped
twenty degrees.  "What's wrong, Spock?  I know that you and McCoy
don't always see eye-to-eye, but--"

"He is your friend, and, therefore, I must accept him."  Spock
squeezed his eyes shut.

"That's right."  Jim sat up and stared down at Spock.  "I can't
believe that you would be so unreasonable about this."  He shook his
head.  "I blamed Mitchell when you two weren't getting along, but now
I wonder."

Spock's eyes flew open.  "Your friendship with Dr. McCoy is important
to you. As was your friendship with Gary Mitchell."  He sat up.  "I
have no intention of coming between you."

Jim put out a hand to touch Spock's shoulder.  "Relax, Spock.
Everything is going to be fine between you and McCoy and me."

"Of course, Captain."  Spock's agitation disappeared, replaced by his
coolest, most-controlled expression.

Regretting the loss of the passion that had been in Spock's eyes
earlier, Jim flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.  "I'm
sorry.  What we just did . . . well, it was special.  I can't believe
that we're arguing now."  He covered his eyes with one hand.  "Damn,
I'm developing a killer of a headache."

Spock rolled over, propped himself on one elbow, and slid his fingers
along Jim's temple.  "Let me help.  I can relieve your pain."

Jim nodded wordlessly.  The slight pressure made him flinch at first,
but after a moment the pain was replaced with numbness, and he yawned
with exhaustion and relief.

"Sleep now, Jim," Spock ordered gently.  "All will be well in the
morning."

---

Kirk's eyes flew open.  Had that been a dream or a memory that had
been dislodged by his mind meld with Sarek and triggered by playing
poker at the Wesleys'?

He remembered very clearly teaching Spock to play poker.  Spock was a
natural.  And shortly after, he'd invited Spock to join a game during
which he had given McCoy fits by winning every hand without a hint of
satisfaction. Now that he thought about it, Spock and McCoy had been
even more argumentative than usual that day.

But he sure as hell didn't remember feeling anything but pride and
warm friendship for Spock as he sat across from him at the poker game.

His cock twitched.  How could he have forgotten the feeling of sliding
his cock into Spock's ass?

Kirk flushed, threw back the covers, and swung his feet out of bed.
He wasn't going to sleep any more tonight.  Might as well catch the
early shuttle to Vulcan tomorrow.  Apparently, he and Spock had a lot
to talk about.

As he began to pack for his trip, his comm unit chimed.  Who would be
calling at this hour of the night?

"Jim, I'm sorry.  Did I wake you up?  I keyed your number before I
thought about what time it was."

"Bones!"  Kirk sank down into the chair behind his desk.  He rubbed a
hand across his jaw.  "I was just thinking about you."  He smiled a
shaky smile. "I wonder who else I could conjure up that way."

McCoy smiled.  Kirk's viewscreen showed him leaning back in his chair
and raising a highball glass to his lips.  "Why?  Who else would you
rather talk to than your oldest friend?"

"No one but you, Bones."  But McCoy's bright blue eyes seemed to look
too hard at him, and Kirk had to glance away from the screen.  "We
haven't talked since you . . . since you ran away to join the
traveling medicine show.  To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"You aren't still mad at me for leaving Starfleet, are you, Jim?"
McCoy rocked back in his chair. "I've gotta confess.  This call wasn't
completely my idea.  Sarek called me.  He's concerned about you."

"Sarek?"  Kirk chewed on his lower lip.  The Vulcan ambassador was
full of contradictions.  He'd been so warm and open with Kirk the
night before and then had gone behind his back to get Starfleet to
send him to Vulcan.  Hard to say what Sarek had in mind.  What
difference would it make if he were on Vulcan, if Spock had no
intention of leaving Gol?

"Vulcans never cease to amaze me.  They can be so cold-blooded--I bet
Sarek didn't bat an eye when Spock decided to go to Gol--but he was
visibly concerned about you."  McCoy took another sip of his drink.
"Or maybe it's just the effect you have on Vulcans, Jim."

"What did he tell you, Bones?"  Kirk's voice was very soft.

McCoy cleared his throat.  "He said that you were experiencing . . .
some memory loss."

Kirk crossed his arms on his chest.  "Oh, really?  Was he specific
about what I'd forgotten?"

McCoy let the chair bang down on the floor, and he put his glass down
on the table so hard that if it hadn't been almost empty it would have
spilled over the jumble on McCoy's desk.  Even over a comm line, the
sound made Kirk flinch.  "About Spock.  He said that you couldn't
remember about you and Spock," McCoy said.

Taking a deep breath, Kirk said, "How can I be sure that the problem
is my lack of memory?  How do I know that Sarek didn't plant those
memories?"  It was a ridiculous idea, but it had just popped into his
head.

"Denial," McCoy said softly.  He looked away from Kirk's gaze.  "I
know you're hurt, Jim, but you wouldn't admit to your pain when he
first left you. At the risk of making you mad all over again, I gotta
tell you that I wasn't completely surprised.  You guys had your ups
and downs, and open relationships are pretty tough to maintain.
Especially when you're dealing with Vulcans.  Possessiveness is a
cultural norm."

McCoy rubbed his chin.  "You know, I used to be hurt that you and
Spock never admitted to me that you were lovers.  I was your friend
even before the Enterprise.  Maybe you thought that by not telling me,
you could keep it a secret from the rest of the crew.  But no one had
to make an announcement. Everyone could see it when you looked at him
and he looked at you.  We all had to watch out for the sparks."

Kirk pushed his chair away from the desk and almost stood up to pace
but changed his mind.  "Do you really think it's denial?  Anger over
him leaving?"  Kirk held McCoy's eyes on the viewscreen.  "If that's
what's causing these huge holes in my memory . . ."  He shook his
head.  "I didn't remember anything about Spock and me being lovers
before Sarek touched my mind."

McCoy leaned forward slightly.  "You realize, of course, that this
memory loss could be a warning sign of something pretty serious.  This
is what comes from letting Spock muck around in your brain."  He shook
his head angrily. "I suspected what he was going to do about Rayna,
Jim.  I should have stopped him.  At the time, I thought it was for
the best."

"Rayna?"  But Kirk shook his head when McCoy opened his mouth to
explain. "Never mind.  It can't be worse than what I already know.  I
think that Spock deliberately wiped my memories of our sexual
relationship."

"What?"  McCoy's jaw dropped, and then he visibly controlled his
emotions. "What do you plan to do about it?"  McCoy clasped his hands
together.  "Jim, I can be on Earth in--"

"Bones, thank you."  Kirk shook his head and smiled faintly.  "I'm
going to see Spock."

"Is that a good idea?"  McCoy's voice had softened to nearly a
whisper.

Kirk made a small movement that could have been a shrug, but then he
laughed. "Well, it could be a terrible idea, but . . . "  He lowered
his voice and stared unseeingly out the window.  "Part of me is angry
with him.  Still, I have to know, Bones.  In these memories . . . I
love him.  How can I not know the truth?"  He let out a shudder.
"Besides, what do I have to lose?"

McCoy leaned forward.  "Your mind?  Your heart?  Hell, what about your
soul?"

Kirk laughed an unhappy laugh.  "I think it's too late for that."  His
expression softened.  "Thank you, Bones.  At least, I remember that
you've always been a friend."  He stood up abruptly.  "I've gotta go.
We'll talk soon, old friend.  Kirk out."

McCoy's "Jim!" faded away as Kirk turned off the comm unit.      

---
 
Kirk was exhausted and uncomfortable after three days of crossing the
desert; he wore protective clothing and a backpack containing basic
camping gear. He'd camped on Vulcan before.  With Spock.  So he knew
what he needed to have with him.  But he hadn't known how many nights
he would be sleeping under the cold stars.  The overland trip to Gol
took longer than expected.  He had known that he wasn't in good
physical condition, but he hadn't given it much thought when he
planned this trip.

He was almost out of water.  If they didn't let him in, he hoped that
they would at least give him water.  He had enough food to get by on
short rations, but water was critical for surviving the dry Vulcan
desert.

The porter looked at him.  Disdainfully, Kirk thought.  Was disdain an
emotion?  No, he just looked at Kirk coolly and waited for him to
speak.  The Vulcan didn't say a word.  Just waited.

"I'm Admiral James T. Kirk."  He could've kicked himself for that.
Gol didn't care about how important he was to Starfleet.  He cleared
the dust from his throat.  "I am here to see Spock cha Sarek.  He's a
Kolinahr initiate."

"What business do you have with the Kolinahr?"  The man's voice was
toneless; his face was expressionless.

"He sent me a message."  Kirk fished it out of his pocket.  Stupid
thing to bring.  No one could read it without a comm unit.  "I wanted
to . . . he wished to make his peace with me before he took his final
vows."

The man's eyebrow climbed.  Yeah, all Vulcans did that trick.  "Who
are you that he would send his message to you?"

"I'm his best friend."  Kirk searched for the Vulcan word.  "His
t'hy'la."
 
"He is no longer Spock cha Sarek."  The porter looked over Kirk's
shoulder. "Once the ceremony is complete, he is no longer Spock.  He
is Kolinahr."

Kirk turned and squinted off into the distance.  As though he could
really see whatever was going on.  "No, it's not for several days
yet."  He turned back to look at the porter.

The porter's eyes bored into Kirk's.  "You have come to claim your
t'hy'la. You would contest your right over the rights of the
Kolinahr?"

"Um, yeah.  Sure."  Kirk felt ridiculous.  He felt a vague uneasiness
about this claiming business, but it seemed to work.  The porter's
stern expression lightened.

The porter stepped back and gestured Kirk into the entryway.  "You are
welcome here.  You will refresh yourself, and I will call the Master
of the Initiates to evaluate your claim."

"My claim?"  Kirk shook his head.  "I just want to see Spock." 

The room that the porter showed him was far more comfortable than what
Kirk had expected in a Vulcan monastery.  It more resembled Spock's
red-draped quarters on the Enterprise than a monk's cell.  A silent
Vulcan brought warm water to clean off the desert's dust and cool
water to drink.  The Vulcan also brought food and a Vulcan-style robe
colored a rich jewel-toned green. Kirk had expected to be regarded as
an intruder, but he was treated like an honored guest.  Except it was
clear that he wasn't welcome to mingle with the residents.

Kirk tried to meditate while he waited for the Master of the
Initiates--seemed like a logical thing to do in a Vulcan monastery--
but he soon realized that he was too exhausted.

It was hot, and he was having a little trouble with his breathing.  He
probably should have got a prescription for tri-ox, but he
acknowledged that he hadn't been thinking all that clearly when he had
packed for the shuttle.

He closed his eyes, telling his body to relax.  To save strength for
tomorrow.  He drifted down into sleep.
 
--- 

Jim touched the access pad, and the door opened.  Most of the doors on
his ship were programmed to open at the captain's touch, but among the
living quarters, only the captain's and the first officer's doors were
programmed that way.  His door opened at Spock's touch, too.  It was
logical for the captain and the first officer to have quick access to
each other in case of an emergency.

"Spock?"  It was as hot as Vulcan in his quarters that night, and
Jim's heart thrummed with adrenaline.  He couldn't catch his breath.
Had Spock lowered the oxygen content, too?  His chest throbbed where
McCoy had regenned the new skin.

"Spock?"  Jim walked in, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust
to the dark, lightened only by a red flicker.  He flinched when he
identified his friend hunched on his meditation stone on the floor in
front of the firepot. Spock knelt at an odd angle, clutching at his
stomach.

He swallowed and willed his feet to carry him across the floor.
"Spock." Resting a hand on Spock's shoulder, he said, "We should talk.
I want you to know that I don't blame you for what happened."  The
shoulder blazed with heat through the silky texture of the meditation
robe.  He resisted his impulse to snatch his hand away.  Spock had not
radiated this heat when they had stood side by side in sickbay six
hours ago.  But this was the same terrible heat that had plagued him
before they beamed down to Vulcan.

"Leave me, Captain."  Spock's tone was as flat as Jim had ever heard
it.  It revealed none of the anger that Spock had shouted at McCoy or
Chapel when they had tried to help him in the early stages of his pon
farr-induced madness.

Spock had said the madness vanished after the combat.  After he had
killed his captain.  To this assertion, McCoy had privately said to
Jim, "In a pig's eye."  Jim was here to find out.  And he didn't
really care for what he was learning so far.

He swallowed.  "I can't leave you, Spock.  You're my friend, and I
want to help."

"You do not know for what you ask."

His hand strayed from Spock's shoulder to the side of his head, and he
gentled him until Spock rested his cheek against Jim's hip.  Spock's
arms were still locked around his own stomach, but he closed his eyes
and breathed deeply, no longer resisting Jim's touch.

"It was like pulling nails to get answers out of you before, Spock."
Jim sighed, and slumped a little, breathing in the heat and incense.
"I'm tired. And I'd like to go to bed and sleep for a week.  I almost
think that I can. Komack is punishing us . . . well, he can't really
punish us because of T'Pau's request.  But, he's assigned us to re-
chart a sector that was already charted fifty years ago.  Punishing
the Enterprise and me by assigning us the dullest duty that he could
come up with."  He took a deep breath, looking down at his motionless
friend.  "Anyway, I'd like to go to bed and sleep for a week, but I
need to know that you're OK."

"I am well."  Spock abruptly pulled away, placed his hands flat on the
meditation stone, and gasped for breath.  On his hands and knees, he
looked like he barely had the strength to support his own body weight.

"Spock."  Jim put out a hand.  "You don't look well.  Should I call
McCoy?"

"There is nothing that McCoy can do."  Spock's head snapped up, and he
glared at Jim.  He shook himself, wrapped his control around like a
cloak, and continued in a quiet voice.  "Captain, I request permission
to be left alone. My quarters should be sealed.  It a private thing.
A Vulcan thing.  You have always respected cultural differences.  I
ask that--"

"Denied," Jim said sharply.  "I don't think I'm feeling a lot of
respect for Vulcan culture right now."  He turned, paced across
Spock's quarters, and leaned against the mesh room divider.  "I can't
understand a culture where a man comes home dying and is rejected by
his . . . betrothed.  And he's asked to fight to the death for . . . "
Jim made a vague gesture in the air. "Spock, in case you forgot, you
won the combat.  Why are you still dying?"

"She did not want me."  Spock paused, but Jim didn't say anything.
Just waited for Spock to continue.  "And I did not want her."

Jim rested his forehead against the divider.  "Why not?  Because she
challenged?  You were angry with her?  Hell, Spock, if you needed to
fuck her to live, I would think that--"

"Do you understand nothing?"

Jim flinched at the harsh anger in Spock's voice, but he didn't turn
to look at his friend.  "Staying alive should be enough of a
motivation.  I know that I have a certain reputation, but . . ."  He
gripped his hands together.  "I would fuck whoever I needed to if it
meant my life."

"No.  You would not."  Spock's voice was quiet.  "You would not take
an unwilling partner.  You would die rather than . . . "  His voice
choked, and he was silent.

It seemed too cold instead of too hot in Spock's quarters for a
moment.  "If I were rational maybe.  You said that pon farr was
madness."  When there was no answer, Jim tried again.  "You said that
she didn't want you.  But you also said that you didn't want her."

"Correct," Spock said in a ghost of the voice of Jim's first officer
giving his captain a report.  "When I realized that I had killed you,
I wanted nothing."  He made a soft sound in his throat.  "The madness
receded.  I hoped that . . . "

"It's not logical, Spock.  What you hoped for."  Jim glanced back.
Spock stood in front of his meditation stone, his hands steepled in
front of him. He looked so calm, but there was a tension in his
shoulders that troubled Jim.  "The way this thing should work is you
fight your rival, and the winner . . . well, the winner satisfies his
biological imperative by . . . rutting . . . with his mate.  It's only
logical; the stronger one passes on his genes."

"I was under the impression that your background was history rather
than anthropology."  Spock's tone was so dry that Jim turned, half-
expecting to see a twinkle in his dark eyes.  But his expression was
completely blank.

"Just tell me the flaw in my logic, Mr. Spock," he said, almost
irritated.

"I did not fight my rival.  I fought my . . ."  Spock made a sound as
though someone had punched him in the stomach.

Jim turned and crossed the room to where Spock was practically doubled
over with agony.  He put out a hand.  "Spock."  Spock grasped his
wrist fiercely, and the pain jolted through him, but he didn't cry
out.

"Thee."  Spock's head came up sharply, and the madness was back in his
eyes. The burning look that Spock had fixed on Jim as the lirpa was
placed in his hands.  At the time, he had thought it was cold disdain,
but now he knew it for what it was.  Blood fever.  "I burn for thee,
t'hy'la."

"I'm here, Spock."  Jim swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at
Spock steadily.  "Whatever you need."

He dropped Jim's wrist, and took a step back, his eyes on the ground.
"You would not take an unwilling partner.  Nor can I."

"Who said I was unwilling?"  Jim gripped his hands together so that
Spock wouldn't see the tremor.  Abruptly, he turned to walk back into
the work area.  "I have to let McCoy know that we need medical leave
and--"

"Kroykah."  Spock's full weight pressed Jim's groin against the desk
and his upper body against the ruined computer console.  He could
imagine Spock's fist smashing that console.  What else was that fist
capable of doing?

"I burn for thee.  My eyes are flame.  My heart is flame, t'hy'la."
Spock's voice choked.  "For thee alone."  His right arm looped around
Jim's waist to hold him close.  His left hand moved restlessly along
Jim's body, his fingertips searing Jim through his uniform.  Hot
kisses rained on the back of his neck.  The hard bulk of his erection
pushed against Jim's ass.  It felt big.  Gary had been big, and he
hadn't been shy about demonstrating that fact, but not this big.  Jim
tamped down his fear.  Whatever happened, McCoy could stitch him up.
The important thing was that Spock would not die.

"I just need to call McCoy," Jim said.  He touched the crushed comm
unit and was greeted by static, but at least the audio was working.
"Kirk to McCoy." He gasped as Spock tore at his pants.  "Wait, Spock."
He groaned when Spock's hand grasped his cock roughly.

"McCoy here.  Jim, this is a terrible connection.  Why don't you--"

"Bones," Jim's voice came out in a gasp.  "Medical leave for . . . oh,
God . . . Spock and me.  Effective immediately.  I'll signal you when
. . . we're well enough to--"

"Jim, what the hell is it with you two?  Are you sure this is a good
idea?" McCoy's voice held fear.  "He just--"

"No choice, McCoy."  Jim gasped but managed to choke back a shout of
pain when Spock rammed his hard cock up against Jim's rectum, blindly
seeking entry.  "Kirk out."

"Wait, Spock."  Jim grabbed Spock's cock in his hand.  It was slick
with precome.  Spock, his eyes squeezed shut, thrust helplessly into
Jim's hand. "You're just going to hurt us both if . . ."  He stopped
talking.  It was useless to try to reason with this hormone-crazed
Vulcan who wore Spock's face.  The only thing that he would understand
. . . the only thing his body would process now was sexual release.

Maybe Spock had some oil, something to make it easier.  But there was
no time for that.  He added saliva to the coat of precome on Spock's
cockhead, and his right hand guided it to his opening.  He breathed
deeply trying to relax as he wrapped his left arm around the ruined
computer console and pressed his face into the crook of his elbow.
His own cock was trapped against his stomach, but it had gone flaccid.
He was too scared about what was about to happen to feel any sexual
excitement.

God, it burned.  It hurt when it went in, and it hurt when it sawed in
and out.  The precome and saliva provided some slickness, but Jim
wasn't relaxed enough to accommodate the bulk.

Gary had usually been careful when he fucked Jim, but sometimes he
enjoyed the power trip of hurting Jim with his cock.  He was always
apologetic after, but more than once Jim had caught a satisfied smile
on Gary's face.  Jim ended their sexual relationship shortly after he
realized that it was anger instead of lust that inspired him to fuck
Gary one afternoon.

What Spock was doing to him now wasn't anger.  It was flat-out
biological need.  Spock had dropped his robe, but Jim still had on his
uniform tunic. His pants and briefs were around his ankles but he
still had his boots on. Jim wanted to call a time-out.  Slow this
whole thing down and make it good for both of them.  But the
biological imperative wouldn't allow that.

Spock came with a shout and sprawled panting on top of him.  He
groaned, trying to wriggle out from under Spock, but Spock was too
heavy.  If only the madness would release his friend long enough to .
. .  "Spock, let me up," Jim said sharply.  "Dammit, Spock, we can do
it as many times as you need to, but at least let's use the bed."

With a sharply in-drawn breath, Spock stood up, and he backed away
from Jim.

Jim groaned and pushed himself up to a standing position.  He looked
down, considering whether to pull up his pants, but decided against
it.  He grunted a little as he bent to pull off his boots and socks,
then he removed his pants and briefs completely.   After he pulled his
tunic over his head, he realized that Spock hadn't made a noise.

"Spock?"

Spock was huddled up against the bulkhead with his arms wrapped
defensively around his belly, and his chin on his chest.

"Look at me."  Jim took a step forward and put out his hand, palm up.
He remembered Spock's earlier words: my heart is flame, t'hy'la.
Since when did Vulcans talk about hearts?  He said the unfamiliar word
out loud, "T'hy'la." Spock's chin came up.

T'hy'la.  Spock mouthed the word and cleared his throat, his eyes
sliding over Jim's naked body, before he looked away.  "My gratitude,
Captain.  What you gave me was sufficient."  Spock was clothed
suddenly in Vulcan dignity.

---

Jim flushed.  He felt stupid standing there naked, his cock
inexplicably throbbing with its own need, on the verge of asking Spock
to fuck him again. Spock was hard again, and Jim could feel the heat
that still radiated off the Vulcan.  "Bullshit.  We're not done.  Not
by a long shot."

"You are most generous, but I cannot ask you to continue."

Jim took a step closer, and he was a little short of breath when he
said, "Selfish Vulcan.  Don't you know anything about sexual
etiquette?  You wouldn't leave your lover unsatisfied, would you?"  He
wrapped his hands around Spock's biceps.  He told himself that he was
only enticing him because it was necessary.  To relieve the hormonal
pressure, Spock needed more sex.

It was irrelevant that Jim had been silently lusting after his first
officer for months, and he'd been crushed when he'd realized that
Spock belonged to T'Pring.  He tried to deny that it was a dream come
true now when Spock's mouth came down on his, and Spock kissed him as
if his very life depended on kissing Jim.  And Jim kissed him back as
if he were a starving man and Spock's kisses were the only food that
would satisfy him.

"T'hy'la."  Spock broke the kiss and murmured the word against Jim's
temple. His hands roamed over Jim's back and then slid down to cup his
buttocks. "T'hy'la, I need thee."  His voice was hoarse, and tremors
shook his body. His hands moved restlessly over Jim's body, squeezing
and kneading the flesh. He seemed to be unaware that he was thrusting
against Jim.

"Yes, of course."  What was Jim thinking?  Standing around in a
romantic haze when there was fucking to be done.

"Spock, can you stand to go a little slower this time?  It would be a
lot better for both of us that way."  It wasn't selfishness that made
Jim insist that his own orgasm was important.  It was only logical.
His enjoyment would relieve Spock of the guilt that vibrated through
his friend.

Jim took Spock's hand and kissed the palm before he led him into the
sleeping area.  He paused thinking how sexy it would be to have Spock
fuck him on the meditation stone, but he decided to be more practical.
The bed would be easier on both of their bodies.  Another time.

He sat down on the bed with Spock beside him.  He turned to Spock,
and, at first, Spock just looked into his eyes, holding Jim's face in
both of his hands.  His expression puzzled Jim.  Spock had something
to tell him.  Or something he didn't want to tell him.

"T'hy'la, I must touch your mind.  It would be a shallow meld, but it
is necessary for me to do so."

"Of course, Spock," Jim said quickly.  "Whatever you need.  I told you
that before."

Spock's fingers stroked across Jim's face, and he murmured, "Beautiful
one." His eyes were suddenly very bright.

"Don't, Spock."  Jim touched the sadness on Spock's face.  "It's OK.
Whatever you need."  He closed his eyes when Spock's fingers touched
his temple, and he tasted Spock's bitter regret on his tongue.  He
grasped Spock's fingers and brought them to his lips.  "Come to bed,
t'hy'la."

Jim lay face-down on the bed, and with his knees, Spock spread his
legs further.  Spock positioned his hands on his backside, thumbs
teasing into the crevice.  He breathed harshly, pushing himself into
the pillow and then pressing himself back against Spock.

Spock coated his erection and Jim's opening with lubricant and
caressed his inner thighs.  Spock thrust forward, impaling him too
quickly; Jim whimpered and bit his lip, willing himself to relax.

Spock gasped as Jim's core engulfed him and propelled himself forward,
plunging his cock forward.  He shifted his weight and buried himself
deeper.

Jim braced himself as Spock sat back again on his heels, cupping his
hands under Jim to lift him to a greater angle, and began to drive
himself into his body.  He began slowly, pulling himself all the way
back out of the tight opening, and unhurriedly insinuating himself
once more inside.

The slower pace turned the pain to pleasure just before the pounding
began, and Jim gasped out Spock's name over and over.  The pace became
quicker and more forceful.  Blood seemed to roar in Jim's ears.

Spock lifted Jim's hips higher and wrapped a hand around his cock; the
sweat from their exertions allowed a blissful friction.

He cried out and thrust forward into Spock's hand and then backward to
impale himself.

Spock hands settled on Jim's meld points.  He closed his eyes as Spock
slid into his mind.  The entry was not gentle like their previous
duty-related melds.  Heat and desire and need seared his mind.

They rode the crest of their arousal together.  When they did spill
over, they collapsed together, and Spock wrapped his arms around Jim's
waist to keep him close.

Jim eyes remained closed.  Spock was sprawled on top of him, still
trembling, and he reached back to stroke his neck.  "Spock, it's OK."
He let out a shuddering breath.  "Is it over?  Can we--?"

"I fear not," Spock whispered.  His cock was hard again, and he was
thrusting against Jim's hip.

Jim clamped down on his irritation.  Even though Spock had been more
careful the second time, he was sore from the inadequately lubricated
initial penetration.  "Spock, how about if I suck you off this time?"

Spock rolled off, allowing him to sit up, but he grabbed Jim's arm
when he realized that he was leaving the bed.  "Do not go."

Looking down at the iron grip on his arm, Jim swallowed.  "Um, Spock,
I just want to get something to clean you with.  It will be more
pleasant for both of us if we do that first."

"I do not want you to go," Spock said in a low voice, his eyes
fastened on Jim's.

"Fine, come with me."

In spite of Spock's reluctance, Jim selected a water shower, soaped
himself and Spock thoroughly, and kissed him lingeringly under the
spray.

But it wasn't long before Jim sank to his knees to take Spock's cock
into his mouth.  He placed his hands on Spock's hips and relaxed his
mouth to take the hard shaft in until it nudged against the back of
his throat.  He swirled his tongue between the twin ridges.  Spock's
free hand curved around the base of Jim's skull.

He deep-throated Spock's erection for three slow strokes before he
spread Spock's thighs wider and buried his nose into the hot, soapy
balls.  Spock's balls tightened as Jim probed his tongue deep inside
his rectum.  After turning him to rinse the soap away, he licked and
sucked at Spock's balls and perineum and then turned his head to
nibble at the smooth flesh of Spock's inner thighs.  His right hand
strayed between Spock's buttocks before he sat back on his haunches
and took Spock's right hand into both of his own.  He sucked each
finger individually, his tongue sliding down into the crevice between.

"Jim."  With a moan, Spock sank to his knees, pulling Jim roughly
against him with his left arm.  His right hand reached between them
and mated their erections.  His hand moved firmly and rapidly over
their joined flesh.  Jim clutching at Spock's shoulders just to stay
upright as Spock bent him backwards with a deep kiss.  Spock's orgasm
came only seconds before Jim's.

"We've never done it that way before," Jim said with a chuckle as he
wrapped a towel around Spock and grabbed one for himself.

A green tinge appeared on Spock's face, but he didn't say anything.

Jim straightened and looped his towel over the rack.  "Why did I say
that? After all, we've only been lovers for a few hours and . . . "
He paused. "Spock, it's so strange.  I remember . . ."  He grasped
Spock's shoulders. "This can't be right, Spock.  Were we lovers
before?"

Spock swallowed and took Jim's face in his hands.  "The meld must have
. . . our minds are very attuned to each other, Jim."  A slight smile
brightened his eyes.  "Fantasies, t'hy'la."  He lowered his mouth to
Jim's.

Jim closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Spock's hard body.
They kissed deeply and urgently, and Spock's fingers moved up his
face, pressing against his temples almost painfully.  Jim's knees
weakened, and he almost collapsed against Spock.  Without releasing
his mouth, Spock swept Jim up in his arms and carried him to the bed.
He lost his battle to remain conscious when Spock again shoved his
cock into Jim's battered opening.

---

"Admiral."  

Kirk's eyes opened; an elderly Vulcan female stood over him.  He
snatched a blanket and threw it over his exposed body.  He sat up,
"Excuse me, ma'am. It was so warm that I . . . "

She appeared to take no notice of his apology.  "So, you are here."
She nodded.  Approval?

He leaned over to retrieve his discarded tunic and leggings.  He
decided that she had no intention of giving him any privacy to pull
himself together. Kirk kept his eyes downcast as he jerked on the
clothes.  He idly wished for his uniform to give him a little dignity,
but then smiled at himself.  It was highly unlikely that a Starfleet
insignia and a few rows of braid would impress this Vulcan.

"I am intrigued, Admiral."  Her grim expression made him wonder if she
was annoyed with him for having the effrontery to intrigue her.

Kirk took a deep breath, and gestured an invitation for the Vulcan to
sit on the couch.  He bowed slightly.  "I'm James T. Kirk.  Are you
the Master of the Initiates?"

"I am T'Sai."  She held up her hand in the Vulcan hand sign.  "I wish
you long life and prosperity."  She sat down.  "Your Terran accent is
distracting, but it is well that you made the effort to learn Vulcan."

"My t'hy'la taught me."  When had Spock taught him to speak Vulcan?
He didn't remember any lessons, but he had begun to understand it a
little at a time.  As though Spock had transmitted the knowledge in a
meld.  "I'm sure he would agree that my accent is terrible."

She calmly surveyed him as though waiting for him to make the next
move.

He had nothing to lose, so he played his opening gambit.  "Where is
Spock? Does he know that I'm here?"

"He is aware of your presence."  

"I just want to talk to him.  Tell him that I accept . . . "  He
stopped. He'd been about to tell her that he accepted Spock's apology,
but that would beg the question of what Spock had done.  He really
didn't want to expose his friend's mistake to the Kolinahr.  Kirk felt
responsible for causing Spock to choose to misuse his Vulcan
abilities.

"Ah," said T'Sai.  "I have been told that you cannot resist a
challenge." She stood up, smoothing her robe around her hips, a
curiously human gesture. "Very well.  The Kolinahr accepts your
presence."

A challenge?  Kirk thought about T'Pring selecting him as her
champion, and Kirk accepting, trapping his friend into killing him.
He frowned as he remembered his dream about the night following that
challenge.  Dream or lost memory?

Maybe Spock would be better off if Kirk backed off on this
"challenge," whatever it was.  But when he stood up, he said, "When do
I see Spock?"

"We will travel to the place of challenge tomorrow.  Rest well,
Admiral."

She glided out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.  Was he an
honored guest or a prisoner?  He had a sudden wild thought that they
believed he wanted to join the Kolinahr.  She had said that they
accepted his presence. Why had he allowed her to intimidate him out of
asking questions?  Maybe because he didn't want to know the answer to
those questions?

Instead of sleeping, he knelt on the floor to meditate.  His knees
complained at first, but as he settled deeper into his mind, he forgot
his body.  His breath kept cadence with the wind outside.  In this
desert, a wind like that could mean a sandstorm.  His last conscious
thought was of relief that he wasn't camping outside tonight.


The next morning, Kirk was dressed and waiting when the same silent
Vulcan from the evening before came to his door.  He ate his breakfast
alone, thinking about Terran monasteries where the monks spent their
days in contemplation but started the day in public prayer and
chanting.  Around him, the monastery of Gol was completely silent.

Another Vulcan came to his door and gestured for him to follow.  He
looked back at his camping gear, wondering if he was going to need it.
He shrugged and picked up the daypack in which he had placed his
leftover food and water.
 
T'Sai was no more informative that day than she had been the previous
day. She greeted him with a Vulcan hand signal, and he held up his
hand even though he couldn't split his fingers correctly.  Right
there, he told himself, this inability disqualified him from the
Kolinahr.

As they headed out into the featureless desert, he walked behind T'Sai
and in front of two male Vulcans, but when the silence began to make
him jumpy, he said, "How far?"  No one answered him.

Some shore leave, he mused as he tromped through the desert.  He
didn't have any clue what he was getting himself into.  Kirk was
honest enough with himself to admit that a good part of why he was
here was sheer boredom with his life.

The other part was that he was on his way to see Spock, his best
friend.  But everything had changed between them since the last time
they had seen each other.

The last time he had seen Spock, Kirk had been excited about his new
life at the Starfleet Admiralty, and he'd already convinced himself
that he was in love with Lori Ciani.  They had spent most of their
last evening before Spock left for Gol talking about Kirk's excitement
about his future.  He'd barely noticed that Spock had been almost
silent.  Or maybe he found nothing odd about silence from a man who
had told him that he was joining a monastery.

Now Kirk knew what a mistake the promotion to the Admiralty had been.
He knew what a mistake Lori had been.  He knew that what he should
have done was apply for another starship and convince Spock to stay on
as his first officer.  Somehow, Kirk knew that Spock would have agreed
to that.  They belonged together as a command team.

He stumbled a little in the deep sand as another thought occurred to
him.  If they had gone out on another five-year mission, would Spock
have continued to play the same game with him?  Seduction and sex,
followed by some kind of mind-wipe?  Kirk mentally shook his head; he
didn't really know what Spock had done to him.  He rubbed a hand on
the back of his sweaty neck.  Maybe Spock had been right to come to
Vulcan.

Had their deep friendship been nothing but five years of lies and
denied feelings, followed by two and half years of emptiness?  Kirk
hated his position at the Admiralty and disliked himself more every
day.  He couldn't imagine that Spock had been much happier, but, of
course, for a Vulcan, happiness wasn't considered a worthy goal.

An ember of resentment blazed in Kirk's belly.  Why was he here?
Spock had asked only for his forgiveness.  He had never asked his
illogical, emotional friend to come to Vulcan to his Kolinahr rites.

Kirk concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.  He was
tired and thirsty, and the Vulcans were setting too fast a pace for
him.  It was probably part of the challenge.  To remind him that he
was just a weak Terran.

He stopped at the sight of an outdoor temple cut out of red rocks.
When he stopped walking, the Vulcan behind him grunted softly.  Kirk
shook himself wondering if he was hallucinating.  What was the word
for it?  A mirage?  But wasn't a mirage something that a traveler
desired?

---

Steam rose from bubbling pools on either side of the walkway cut from
granite.  Kirk thought of Earth and a red-rock amphitheater outside of
Denver, the geyser fields in Yellowstone, and the granite walls of
Yosemite. The sky had darkened, but T'Khut had risen to light the
twilight as bright as midday even though the Vulcan sun had already
set.

They shared food and water silently.  Kirk didn't recognize the Vulcan
dishes, but he ate everything that was put in front of him, and he
drank all the water that was offered before he looked around.  It was
then that he noticed a dark shape at the foot of the granite walkway.
A gaunt figure with unkempt hair that brushed his shoulders shimmered
in the moonlight as though he had been beamed down in the middle of
the boulders.  How long had he been there?  The man lifted his head
and shaded his eyes with his hand.  The gesture tripped a connection
in Kirk's brain.

"Spock?"  Ignoring T'Sai's sharp in-drawn breath, Kirk strode forward,
holding out his hands.

Spock had always been thin, but now it seemed as though the desert air
had consumed him until his skin stretched across the prominent bones
of his face. His dusty robes hung on his tall frame.  The wind, which
had been calm during their journey, whipped the matted hair across his
face.  The dark brown eyes, which had once flashed with intelligence,
were dull with incomprehension as they fastened on Kirk.

Spock slowly approached, his eyes flooded with light, and his hands
encircled Kirk's wrists, gripping them almost painfully as Spock
pulled him close. Kirk closed his eyes against the pain, but he didn't
resist.

"Spock."  Kirk nearly whispered this time.  Indifferent to T'Sai and
the other Vulcans, Kirk leaned against Spock.  After he noted with
alarm that Spock's chest seemed to have lost all of its bulk, Kirk
stared into his friend's eyes.  But now there was no answering spark
and no hint of recognition.  "What the hell did they do to you,
Spock?"  He threw an angry look over his shoulder.  "He looks like he
hasn't eaten in days."

T'Sai's eyebrow lifted.  "He has not."

"Fasted in the desert for forty days and forty nights," Kirk said
softly, before he returned his attention to his friend.

Spock swallowed and his expression became wary.  He pushed Kirk away
and stepped back.  "Do not tempt me."  His voice was low and scratchy,
and he clasped his hands in front of him as though he were praying.
His eyes fell away from Kirk, and he looked up at T'Sai.

"Spock, I'm not here to . . . to tempt you."  Impulsively, he stepped
forward, invading Spock's personal space again.  Except, it had never
been an invasion before.  They had been friends.  The closest of
friends.  "We need to talk.  After we talk, if you still want me to
leave, I will."

T'Sai stepped forward.  "Kirk, I have been told that you have respect
for Vulcan custom."

Why was he here?  But his concern for his friend doused the ember of
resentment.  He chewed his lower lip as he took his indicated place at
T'Sai's right hand.

Spock's face had lost all expression when he brushed past Kirk to
kneel before T'Sai with downcast eyes.

T'Sai gazed down at Spock.  "Our ancestors cast out their animal
passions here on these sands.  Our race was saved by the attainment of
Kolinahr."

"Kolinahr: through which all emotion is finally shed," intoned the
male Vulcan at T'Sai's left.

"You have labored long, Spock."  T'Sai extracted a pendant from her
robes. Glittering with cut crystals, the pendant dangled over Spock's
head.  "Now receive from us this symbol of total logic."

"Now wait one goddamn minute."  Kirk stepped forward and grabbed the
pendant.
 

Spock raised his hand as if he would snatch the pendant away from
Kirk, but T'Sai's hand clamped around Kirk's wrist first.

"You would interfere?"  T'Sai sounded genuinely surprised.  At least
more surprised than a Kolinahr Master should allow herself to sound.
Her grip tightened on his wrist until it seemed like a bone would
snap.

Instead, it was his tightly-held control over his reactions that
snapped. His voice was nearly a roar when he said, "Why did you bring
me here?  You had no intention of letting me talk to him?"  He
clenched his fist until the pendant dug into his palm drawing blood.

T'Sai's eyebrow lifted.  "He rejected you.  What more do you expect?"
Her hand released his wrist, but came to rest on the side of his face.

Kirk cried out, dropping the pendant and sinking to his knees.  He
clawed at her hand to push it away.  His wrists still ached, but his
head felt like it was on fire.

"T'Sai!"  Spock's arms shot out to catch him, to cushion his fall.  

Kirk squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the scrape of the granite on his
knees, the warmth of Spock's breath against the side of his face, and
the tension in Spock's too-thin body.

"Do not hurt him," Spock said in a choked voice, his hand cradling the
back of Kirk's neck.  "I beg thee.  I am responsible."

"Spock, give me your thoughts."  T'Sai's voice was low and without
emotion.

"There is no need, T'Sai."  Spock's other hand moved in restless
circles on Kirk's back.  "I can tell you what you will find: my link
with Admiral Kirk has not been broken."

Burying his face in Spock's neck, Kirk breathed in the not-unpleasant
desert scent of his friend, and combed the tangles from his hair with
gentle fingers.  "Spock?  Why didn't you tell me?"

T'Sai's voice seemed to come from far away.  "This touches your human
blood. You have not achieved Kolinahr."  She made a small sound that
was most likely disapproval.  "Your answers lie elsewhere."

When Spock pushed him away again, Kirk's eyes flew open.  "Spock?"
He coughed as the wind threw sand into his face, clogging his throat
and stinging his eyes.

Spock swallowed, staring down at the broken pendant on the ground.
"You do have a unique approach to Vulcan ceremonies, Admiral."  His
face wore no expression, but he gripped his hands together as if to
keep them from shaking.

Kirk was aware that T'Sai and the other Vulcans had retreated only a
few yards, but he didn't care about them.  He was genuinely concerned
by the frozen look on Spock's face.  They were both on their knees
facing each other.  "Spock."  He put out his hand to touch his
friend's shoulder.  "I ruined it for you, didn't I?  I am sorry."

Vulcan swiftness combined with Vulcan strength when Spock's hands came
up to grasp Kirk's wrists.  A fire kindled in the alien eyes.  "I am
not interested in your regret.  Instead, I demand what is my right."

"Your right?"  The pain flared in his already-damaged wrists.
"Dammit, Spock," he snapped.  "What kind of game are you playing?"

Something flickered in Spock's eyes.  Uncertainty?  And then his
expression was fiery again.  "I ask you the same.  Why are you here?"

Kirk's voice was still angry when he said, "Because I . . . I need
you.  I'm probably a complete fool, but I love you."  He panted as
though he'd just run a fifty-yard dash.  Spock's face had gone blank
at Kirk's declaration, and the lack of reaction refueled his anger.
If he hadn't held his wrists immobilized, Kirk might have struck him
across his face.  "Dammit, Spock. Why won't you tell me . . .?"

Spock let go of his wrists long enough to tear off Kirk's robe before
he pushed him onto the ground, and straddled his hips.

The granite scraped Kirk's back, and he turned his head to look around
wildly, embarrassed at the thought of T'Sai still near enough to see
them. He could hear what sounded like chanting in the distance.
"Spock, what the hell do you think--"

"You are mine."  Spock's voice was low, his eyes were dilated almost
to blackness, and his breath was coming out in harsh gasps.  "I can
never be Kolinahru, but I will have you."  He strayed one hand down
Kirk's cheek, down across his clavicle, molded his pectorals, and
pinched one nipple into a hard peak, eliciting a harsh moan from Kirk
and leaving a red mark.  He rubbed his thumb over the hardness of that
nipple, and palmed Kirk's chest.  Spock pressed his groin forward and
the bulk of his cock butted against Kirk's.

The reality of Spock's demanding hands on him overlaid his half-buried
memories of their tender lovemaking.  The desert scent of Spock, the
heat of his hands, and the roughness of his voice melted the last
vestige of his anger into arousal.  Kirk realized that he hadn't come
to the desert merely for answers.  He had come because he craved the
touch of fire that was Spock's hands on his body, Spock's mouth on his
cock, and Spock's mind and cock plunging into him.

"I want you, too, Spock," he gasped.  "But . . . can't we go someplace
. . . private?"

Spock cupped Kirk's balls and lowered his face to tongue the underside
of his cock until he arched up with a moan.

"I hunger for thee," Spock said, his voice nearly a growl before he
took Kirk's shaft into his mouth.  He suckled avidly, enclosing the
hard length in heated silk.

Kirk groaned loudly and, tugging his hands free, he slid his hands
into Spock's hair, and thrust helplessly into his mouth.  "Spo - ock."
When Spock inserted a finger inside his tight rectum, he cried out
sharply.

Spock's teeth raked lightly along the full length of his cock.
Instead of being painful, the rough caress made him whimper, spread
his legs wider, and propel his cock deeper into the hot cavity.  Spock
tore at the opening to his own robe.  His penis humped against Kirk's
leg, and he rubbed his fingers against his cockhead to gather
lubrication.

Kirk cried out again as Spock slid two fingers deep into his ass to
massage his prostate.  His balls tightened and he groaned Spock's name
as he climaxed.  Spock's eyes closed and his expression became rapt as
he swallowed and then licked away every trace of semen from Kirk's
cock and groin.

Kirk closed his eyes, completely enervated.  Not even the realization
that he was stretched out in an undignified sprawl on Vulcan
ceremonial grounds was enough to rouse him to action.  "That was the
most incredible . . . "  His voice was barely a whisper, and he
moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.

Spock gave no sign that he had heard the comment; he continued to bite
and lick every available centimeter of Kirk's naked flesh, suckling at
the flesh beneath his collarbone so hard that he had the odd thought
that Spock intended to draw blood and swallow that, too.

Kirk's eyes flew open, and he started to sit up.  "Spock, T'Sai said
that you haven't eaten.  I have food and water that I --"

"T'hy'la, I hunger only for thee," Spock murmured as he pushed him
back down into a reclining position, continuing his exploration of
Kirk's body.

Both of their breathing seemed unnaturally loud in the suddenly calm
desert night.  Spock turned him over so he crouched on his hands and
knees. Spreading his ass-cheeks with one hand, and placing the other
on the side of his face, Spock said, "T'hy'la, I want . . . I need . .
. "

"Whatever you want, Spock.  I'm here for you," Kirk heard himself
gasping. He flinched as Spock fitted his precome-slickened cock
against Kirk's opening.  "Spock."  He closed his eyes and cried out
harshly as Spock buried his heat in Kirk's body.  Wrapping one arm
around his chest to pull him close and his other fist around Kirk's
erection, Spock stroked him slowly while he fucked his ass.

"Mine.  You are mine."  Spock lowered his head to sink his teeth into
the skin where Kirk's shoulder met his neck and worried the skin.

Kirk writhed under him; the initial pain of entry changed to exquisite
pleasure.  Sweat poured from his body, making him almost too slippery
to grip.  He was clutching at the ground with his hands, his scraped
knees splayed wide.

Spock let go of his cock to wrap a nearly bone-crushing embrace across
his chest.  They were both moaning loudly as they slammed together.
Kirk gasped as he felt the twin sensations of his ass being penetrated
and his cock sheathed in cool skin.  Three final strokes, the
incredible pressure building up in his testicles, and they shouted
incoherently with one voice as they found their release.

He collapsed on the ground, and Spock fell down on top of him, his
spent cock still in Kirk's ass.  They lay still while both of their
heartbeats slowed.

"Marry me," Kirk whispered, astonishing himself.

"I already have," Spock murmured in his ear.

Kirk stirred with a soft laugh, not really understanding but
inexplicably happy anyway.  "Is it an absolute necessity on Vulcan to
spend one's wedding night on a granite slab?  Because I would really
prefer . . . "  He grunted as Spock rolled off him.  Sitting up, he
rubbed his hands across his face, before he looked around.  "They're
gone, aren't they?  T'Sai and the others?" He groaned and rubbed at
the grit on his bruised knees before he struggled to stand up.

Swiftly, Spock was on his feet, reaching out to help Kirk stand, too.
"I ask forgiveness.  I could not . . . control my . . . my desire for
you."  He swallowed and looked away.

"I'll forgive you on one condition."  Kirk struggled to control the
grin that spread across his face, as he looked down at their joined
hands.

"Admiral?"  Spock put his other hand over their joined hands.

"Two then," Kirk said.  "First, stop calling me 'Admiral.'  And
second."  He lifted his face.  "Kiss me."

"I will."  Spock brushed his lips against Kirk's.  "Are you certain .
. . " He kissed him again, this time, allowing his mouth to linger.  "
. . . that you have no other conditions?"  He released Kirk's hand,
wrapped his arms around his waist, and pulled him close.

Kirk closed his eyes as the hot tongue traced along his lips before
gently questing between.  He reached behind Spock's head to bring him
down, and the hot tongue slid all the way in, possessing his mouth
completely, stifling his low moan.  He gasped and broke the kiss when
his need for oxygen could no longer be ignored.  "Other conditions?"
Kirk murmured distractedly.

Spock smoothed his hands down Kirk's back as they kissed again.  "To
obtain your forgiveness."

Kirk closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of Spock's
warm body against him and Spock's deep voice in his ear.  "Um."  He
kissed Spock's mouth lightly this time, just their lips pressing
together with the slightest suction.  "I can't remember what I'm
forgiving you for."

He felt Spock shiver, and he pulled back to look into his eyes.  "This
is crazy,' Kirk said.  "We're standing naked in the middle of the
night in the desert.  You're freezing, aren't you?"

"I assure you.  I am quite warm."  The sweet warm mouth covered Kirk's
again, and a large hand squeezed his ass.

"Remember your survival training, Mr. Spock?" Kirk murmured against
Spock's mouth.  "You're in luck."  Another kiss.  "I have food and
water.  I have a tarp that we can improvise for shelter, I guess."  He
pulled away to search the ground.  "At least I do if my daypack is
still here."

Spock's eyebrow climbed.  "There is no need.  Food, water and shelter
are nearby."

Kirk shivered himself.  "It took us almost the whole day to walk here
from Gol, Spock.  I don't think . . ."

Grasping Kirk's hand, Spock brought it to his mouth to kiss his palm.
"T'hy'la, I believe that you will be pleased with our . . . I believe
the Terran term would be: 'honeymoon hideaway.'  If you are ready . .
."  He bent to pick up Kirk's robe to hand it to him.

Kirk's jaw dropped, but he closed it again as he wrapped his robe
around his rapidly chilling body.  "Um, sure.  I'm ready."  As he
followed Spock down the granite path out of the temple, he looked
behind him at the dais where they had made love.  He shook his head in
astonishment.  Doubtless, his life was never going to be the same
again.

---

When Spock's light touch woke him, Kirk opened his eyes; he was amazed
again at the bubbling hot spring that dominated the room.  It was a
cave, actually, but it looked more like a luxury room at a resort on
Wrigley's Planet.

They had bathed together in the hot spring before Kirk had eaten
dinner. Spock ate very little, but he drank the water brought from the
monastery, promising that he would show Kirk a nearby well in the
morning.  He had then confessed to a different kind of hunger.  Kirk
had fallen asleep shortly after they had made love again, using their
hands and mouths to pleasure each other.
 
When Kirk's eyes fluttered opened, Spock stretched out beside him.  He
pillowed his cheek on Kirk's hip, his left hand soothing his bruised
knee almost absentmindedly.  "Why did you come?"  Spock's voice was
almost a whisper.  "Perhaps it was not for the best."

He smiled as he stroked his fingers through Spock's damp hair.  "Why
did I come?  You give the best head that I've ever had.  I couldn't
help myself."
 
Spock's hand stilled.  "I do not understand."  He frowned.  "You are
using humor, I believe, to avoid answering my question."

"Yes, I guess I am."  He traced the outline of Spock's ear.  "But you
do give amazing head."  He frowned slightly.  "I didn't even think
about the fact that you hadn't eaten in forty days."  He stroked the
tip of Spock's ear, and there was a smile in his voice when he said,
"Have I asked you this before? Does swallowing violate your usual
vegetarian eating habits if I don't eat a vegetarian diet?"

Spock sat up, his eyebrow climbing.  "I cannot imagine on what
occasion you would have asked me such a question."

"Spock."  Jim's eyes turned solemn; he sat up, too, hugging his legs
to his chest and resting his chin on his knees.  "I should have told
you sooner.  I remember . . . what happened between us.  When we were
together.  On the Enterprise."  He hesitated.  "I don't remember all
of it, but I regained some memories in a meld with Sarek.  And I've
remembered more of it in dreams."

"More of what, Jim?  I do not understand."  Spock draped the covers
over his lower body, arranged pillows behind him, and leaned against
the wall, his eyes fixed on Kirk's profile.

Kirk frowned.  "About us being lovers."  He peered over his shoulder
at Spock.  "Why *did* you take the memories away?"  He blew out a puff
of air between pursed lips.  "I should be angry with you.  Hell, I
should be terrified of you."

Spock's hand was a flame on Kirk's naked back, but his voice was
level.  "You are suggesting that I was your lover while I was your
first officer?  And I caused you to forget?"  His hand slid up to
cradle the nape of Kirk's neck. "Do you truly believe that if once I
possessed you, I could have given you up?  Do you not know what effect
you have on me, beautiful one?"

Kirk's breath stuck in his throat for a moment, and when he remembered
to breathe again, he said, "Your letter said--"

"That I wanted you, but I feared to tell you."  Spock reached for
Kirk's shoulders, and pulled him close to hold him against his chest.

"You made me forget Rayna."  Kirk closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth
of the long arms that wrapped around him.

"Affirmative."  Spock's voice was barely a whisper that stirred the
air beside Kirk's ear.  "I was wrong to take that memory without your
permission. I can only defend myself by explaining that your emotion
for Rayna was artificially induced."  His embrace tightened.  "If you
prefer, I will restore the memory."

"No," Kirk said quickly.  He rubbed his hand along Spock's lightly
muscled forearm.  His years at Gol had left him thinner, but he was
still strong. The warmth and scent of Spock's skin threatened to drive
all coherent thought out of his brain, but he struggled against it.
"I don't understand.  The memory that I shared with Sarek was so . . .
real."

"You said that you dreamed other occasions."  Spock kissed his temple.
"Have you considered the possibility that these were fantasies?"

"I don't know."  Kirk shook his head, a small movement against Spock's
chest. "Bones thinks that I'm in denial because I didn't remember it,
and you think I'm living in a fantasy world because I do."  He cleared
his throat. "Besides, you said we had a link."  He turned his head.
"Are we bonded now? How did you --?"

"Our minds have always been very attuned.  It was a simple matter to
complete the bond once you agreed."

He blinked.  "I agreed?"

Spock brushed a kiss against the nape of his neck.  "You offered
yourself to me.  Invited me to take whatever I needed.  Did I
misunderstand?"

Kirk chewed his lower lip, but then shrugged.  "It seems we belong
together." He reached back to stroke Spock's flank, a half-smile
playing on his face. "In my fantasies, we kept ending up in bed
together, so why fight it?"

"Indeed."  Spock's touch against his temple now was a light kiss
rather than a painful jolt.  "Have you considered that the fantasies
were mine?"  Spock shifted suddenly, pinning Kirk on his back, arms
over his head.  "Have you additionally considered that reality may be
more pleasing than 'fantasies'?"

Kirk looked into Spock's dark eyes, reminding himself that Vulcans do
not lie.  He ignored the soft voice in the back of his head that
reminded him that Spock did not consider it a lie "to keep the truth
to oneself."  Spock had never lied to him.

His solemn mood dispelled, he said, "Hell, yes, Spock," before he slid
a hand around the back of Spock's head and pulled him down into a deep
kiss.

---

Kirk suppressed a sigh as he looked around at the mostly Vulcan crowd
that thronged the reception hall.  A year ago, early in their bonding,
he and Spock would have arrived at this thing together and left
together.  Lately, Spock didn't even leave with him at the end of the
evening.  He always had  a plausible excuse, of course.  The demands
of his position at the VSA.

Tonight, it was necessary for Kirk to talk to his mate.  He could
picture the already-packed bag that he'd left in the corner of their
bedroom, but he wasn't the type to run away without an explanation.

He'd learned to dread these social occasions, but he was both the
commander of the local Starfleet contingent and mate to the
ambassador's son, so he had keep up appearances.  After spending
nearly an hour at the reception, employing all the charm that a former
starship captain could muster when dealing with a roomful of Vulcans,
he started to look for Spock.
 
He smoothed his tunic before he walked out into the garden.  T'Khut
was less than a quarter full tonight, so it barely lit the faces of
the two seated on the bench, but he recognized Spock from the set of
the shoulders, the deep rumble of the voice, and the way his own heart
sped up.

He stopped in mid-stride when he recognized the Vulcan female seated
beside Spock.  T'Pring.  It wasn't the first time he had found them
together.  The first couple of times, he had assumed it was Spock
being too polite to snub the female.  Kirk had no such reluctance.  In
fact, his dislike of T'Pring grew every time he saw her.  He had not
intended to eavesdrop, but when he froze a few yards away from the
bench, their voices floated across the still air.

"It was you who told Stonn that having was not as satisfying as
wanting," T'Pring's level voice said.  "It is hardly surprising that
you are disappointed in your precipitous bonding.  He is little more
than a pet."

Kirk bit his lip and clenched his fists.  It explained a lot.  In the
beginning, they couldn't get enough of each other; Spock had barely
left his side.  Once Spock was . . . sure of him, he had appeared to
become distant. Their lovemaking was sporadic, even though it was
passionate when it took place.  At first, he had teased and cajoled
Spock into bed, but, after a time, he had decided it was too
humiliating to beg, and had thrown himself into his work instead.  And
Spock had done the same.  Or maybe he had thrown himself into
T'Pring's arms.

"You are mistaken, T'Pring," Spock responded quickly and with more
heat than Kirk had heard in his voice in several months.  "He is
intelligent, charming, and aesthetically pleasing."

Kirk almost expelled the bitter laugh that welled up in his throat.
Was Spock saying these things to defend their marriage to his
childhood friend? Or to his mistress?  It was certainly more
complimentary than anything he had said to Kirk in months.

T'Pring made an unVulcan sound of annoyance.  "You care for him, but
you do not trust what you feel for him nor what he feels for you.  I
saw him in your mind years ago, but I also believe that you have--"

"You are not to comment on what is between us."  Spock's expression
turned stony.  "You have no right."

"Do I not?"  T'Pring laid a hand on Spock's arm.  "I do not blame you
for what you have done.  He is not your equal mentally.  It is logical
for the strong to take what is desired from the weak.  And I have
never denied that he is desirable."

Kirk closed his eyes and clutched at a tree.  T'Pring's words
confirmed what he suspected, but Spock would not admit.  Spock had
altered his memories.  At first, when Kirk had tried to talk to him
about the dreams about becoming new lovers nearly a dozen times during
their five-year mission, Spock had insisted that they were sexual
fantasies and had reminded him that reality was more pleasing.  Later,
Spock reacted to the topic with annoyance.  The last time they had
started to make love, Spock had left him in a fit of cold anger after
the same old argument.
 
"You could not understand," Spock said, but he was looking at T'Pring
intently, and he placed his own hand over hers.

T'Pring glanced down at the hand, and then looked up at Spock.  In the
pale light, it was impossible to read her expression, but her voice
sounded sad. "Perhaps I understand more than you realize.  Perhaps I
am mistaken about who holds the power of enchantment."  She turned her
head away.  "My friend, I once believed that you came back to me
because he was not worthy of you.  Now I wonder whether you came to me
because you feel unworthy of him."

"T'Pring, you see too much."  Spock's hand tightened on her arm, and
she stared at him wide-eyed.

Confused, Kirk turned toward the house, but he stumbled slightly, and
the noise caught the pair's attention.

Spock rose to his feet, allowing T'Pring's hand to fall away.
"James."  He extended paired fingers, inviting--or summoning--Kirk to
his side.

Kirk squared his shoulders, feigning unconcern, and approached.
Extending his fingers to nestle against Spock's in a ritual Vulcan
embrace, he met his mate's dark brown eyes.  "I wondered where you
were."  Inexplicably, Spock's warm fingers sent a chill through him
instead of the pleasurable shiver that he remembered from a long time
ago.

"You have found me."  Spock's expression was momentarily wary, then
pleading. But all emotion fell away when he turned to the female
beside him. "T'Pring, I am certain that you remember Admiral Kirk.
James, you remember T'Pring, she who was once my wife."

Controlling a flinch, Kirk nodded gravely at T'Pring.  "Ma'am."

T'Pring rose to her feet without looking at Kirk, "Admiral."  She
lifted an eyebrow at Spock and said, "Stonn will also wonder where I
am."

Kirk stared unseeingly at the ground as T'Pring glided off toward the
house. He wracked his brain for something to say.  Was it jealousy
that clogged his throat or something else?  How could they be standing
so close together, his fingers resting against Spock's, and still be
so far apart?  "What the hell is going on, Spock?"  He didn't expect
an answer, but it was an acceptable opening for what he needed to tell
Spock.

"Jim."  Spock traced his jawline with two fingers before he tipped up
his chin, and kissed his mouth lightly.  The heat of that slight
contact blazed though Kirk's entire body

He settled his hands on Kirk's shoulders.  "I am pleased to see you,
beautiful one.  It is well that you chose to dress in this manner
rather than in your uniform.  Pale green is aesthetically pleasing on
you."

Which was the lie?  Spock's apparent tenderness now or what Kirk had
overheard?  The distance between them in the last few months held his
answer. Kirk took a step back, so that Spock's hands fell away. "I
think we need a break from each other."

When Spock continued to silently gaze at him, he clenched his fists.
"Nogura asked me to come back to San Francisco, and I haven't seen
Bones or my other friends in over a year."  As soon as he said the
words, he wanted to take them back.  Or maybe he wanted Spock to
forbid him to leave.  Or beg him to stay.

Spock gripped his hands loosely behind him with no sign of tension in
his body; the tenderness had evaporated as though dried up by the
breeze from the desert that stirred the air in the garden.  He was
hypnotically beautiful in his thigh-length robe worn over leggings,
his cheekbones carved in stone, and his hair slightly ruffled by the
wind.

Kirk had to clear his throat before he could continue.  "I'll come
back if you need me."  Pon farr.  He didn't have to say those two
words out loud. They echoed in the silence between them.  James Kirk
would honor his bonding vows no matter how those vows had been
extracted.

Kirk bit his lip, feeling the ache behind his eyes.  The beginnings of
a headache?  "I want to catch the morning shuttle.  I'm going to make
my apologies to our host."  He turned away, swiping the back of his
hand against his burning eyes.  The walkway up to the house appeared
endless.  Could he make a dignified retreat without stumbling?

He'd only walked three steps before he felt Spock's hand close on his
arm. It would leave bruises, but it was not the first time.

"I will come home with you.  We will have tonight before you leave."

Kirk swung around, intending to protest that it was too late for that.
Spock's fingers bruised his temples, and, for a moment, he forgot how
to speak either Standard or Vulcan as the pain jolted through him.

Numbly, he gazed up into the face of his love--the love that it seemed
he had been missing for several months--and he swallowed.  His voice
came out in a whisper when he said, "Yes," and the icicles around his
heart began to thaw. "Let's go home, Spock."

As he walked into the brightly-lit reception hall, Kirk was very much
aware of Spock at his side.  Close enough that their arms brushed
against each other.  Like walking down the hallway together on the
Enterprise.  His mouth was dry; he was grateful that his tunic was
long enough to hide his arousal.
 

As they walked out to the aircar, he couldn't remember what he had
said to Sporvan, but their host had not looked at them oddly.  If
Sporvan--or anyone else--was surprised that the Vulcan ambassador's
son and his Terran mate left the reception scarcely an hour after it
had started, his perfect control hid that fact.

Long habit caused Kirk to slide into the pilot's seat and Spock into
the passenger's.  He extended his right hand to the controls, but
Spock grasped that hand in his own and brought it to his mouth to
place a hot kiss in the palm.

Kirk closed his eyes briefly before he turned to look at their joined
hands. "Right here?"

A slight smile lit Spock's eyes.  "I had thought to wait until we were
home, but if you would prefer . . ."  He leaned over, his brown eyes
nearly black and glittering in the faint light that spilled from the
house.  He slowly traced two fingers from Kirk's earlobe and across
his jawline.  His eyes followed the path that his fingers took.
"Beautiful," he murmured.

Spock's touch was a line of fire on his skin, and the heat transmitted
down to his groin.  Kirk's breath caught in his throat, and he
couldn't wait.  He leaned forward to press his lips against Spock's.
"Damn," he said with a chuckle as his hip bumped against the control
console; the pain contrasted with the even sharper pleasure of Spock's
fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Indeed."  Spock's voice was a low rumble against his temple.  He
placed a kiss there before he gently pushed Kirk away.  "At this time,
I would prefer to enjoy your body in the comfort of our home.  It
would be far safer."

He nodded but didn't trust himself to speak as he powered up the
aircar. Spock's gaze slid down his body, peeled away his tunic,
skimmed over his erect nipples, teased at his navel, stripped away his
trousers, and lifted his cock to caress the entire hard length.  "How
the hell do you do that?" Kirk said through gritted teeth.  "If you
don't stop, I'll crash this damn thing."

"You are an excellent pilot.  I have seen you perform efficiently
under far more stressful conditions."  The tender amusement in Spock's
voice caused Kirk to look over; he had to force himself to glare, but
it dissolved into a grin at the feigned innocence on Spock's face.
 
He landed the car using more instinct than control; he rushed through
the shutdown sequence in his eagerness to get out of the vehicle and
into the house.

Spock followed him into the house with an appearance of calm
unconcern, but as soon as the door closed, his hands closed on Kirk's
arms, spinning him around and into a desperate embrace.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Kirk said just before Spock's
mouth took his in a bruising kiss.  He slid one hand into Spock's hair
and his other hand quested under Spock's tunic to stroke the hard
muscles of his back.

Warm fingers stroked down the sides of his face, behind his ears, down
his throat, and along his exposed collarbone. Kirk's hands gripped
Spock's elbows, but he barely trusted himself to do much more than
hold on and ride the waves of pleasure.

Spock's hands slipped under the tunic, the pads of his fingers
spreading along the collarbone, the thumbs teased at his sensitized
nipples.  Spock cut off the sound of Kirk's gasp with a hot kiss, and
his hands traveled lower. He stripped off the tunic and stroked his
palms down Kirk's abdominal muscles.  His hands continued downward to
the fly of his trousers.

Kirk moaned softly against Spock's mouth as hot fingers opened his
trousers; he wasn't wearing any underwear, so his cock sprang free
immediately.  He moaned again as Spock traced the vein on the
underside. Closing his eyes, he worked his hands under Spock's robe
and dug his fingers into the lightly muscled shoulders.

Spock's hands cupped Kirk's buttocks, the warmth seeping through the
thin fabric, and his rough tongue journeyed slowly down from Kirk's
collarbone, across his nipples, and performed a slow exploration of
his stomach, and briefly stabbed at his navel.

Kirk moaned softly when Spock tongued his balls.  He gasped again when
Spock sucked first one and the other into his mouth and bit at them
delicately. The sweet fire built in his groin.  He combed his fingers
into the silk of Spock's hair, and moaned again as hot lips encircled
his cock.

One strong hand gripped the base of Kirk's cock; the other continued
to grasp his buttocks.  The conflagration weakened his knees, and it
was only those two hands that kept him upright: those hands and his
own hands clutching Spock's hair.

Spock's tongue teased at his cockhead, and then licked the underside
of the entire cock slowly. Kirk opened his mouth to speak, to tell him
something, but he couldn't remember what it was before the delicious
assault of hands and mouth accelerated, and he could only gasp and
moan.

He thrust blindly into the warm channel; Spock relaxed his throat
muscles to accommodate him.  It didn't take much longer; it had been
several weeks since he'd last had sexual release.  His knees started
to buckle as he came, and Spock's grip on his buttocks tightened.

After a moment, Spock gently lowered Kirk to his knees so that they
knelt facing each other.  They wrapped their arms around each other,
and he tasted his seed in Spock's mouth.  He wanted to speak but he
didn't want to stop kissing that cinnamon-cardamom, spicy-sweet mouth.

Spock's cock stabbed against his hip, and Kirk tugged blindly at
Spock's waistband.  "I love you," he said against Spock's mouth.  He
took a shuddering breath, his eyes closed, and his forehead pressed
against Spock's. "It's been too long, Spock.  I want you to fuck me."

"I intend to."  Spock released a puff of air that could have been a
laugh, before he swung Kirk up into his arms and carried him up the
stairs to their bedroom.

"I can walk, you know," Kirk said, but his heart was beating too fast
to do much more than chuckle at this reminder of Spock's superior
strength.

---

"Spock?"  Kirk blinked and threw his arm across his eyes as sunlight
flooded the room.  "What the--?"

The corner of the mattress compressed, and Spock slid his hand down
Kirk's arm in a caress.  "I have decided to stay home from the Academy
today.  Do you have any plans?"

"Plans?"  The pillow muffled Kirk's voice when he turned over on his
stomach. His sore ass made him remember their passionate lovemaking
the night before. Something else teased at his brain, but he couldn't
focus on anything other than Spock's hands performing a slow massage
on his back.

Kirk groaned with pleasure at the firm touch.  "I don't think so,
love. You're coming back to bed?"  He curled his toes luxuriously.
"Mmm, I can't remember the last time we took a day off together."

Stripping off his robe, Spock fitted his warm body against Kirk's.  "I
have observed that your memory is not what it once was.  Perhaps you
should speak to a healer."

Kirk murmured his pleasure as Spock's cock kissed the underside of his
own. "I remember that I love you.  What else do I need to remember?"

---

The End