The BLTS Archive - Serpents in the Garden
by Islaofhope@aol.com

---

Archive: Yes

Feedback:  Both negative and positive feedback is welcome; either post
to ASCEM or KirkLovesSpockFic or send to Islaofhope.

Disclaimer:  All that is Star Trek: TOS belongs to Paramount.
Alexander and Bagoas are borrowed from Mary Renault's "The Persian
Boy."  The rest of it -  well, I just made it up.  This is fan fiction
and I won't make any money from it.

Thanks to my betas (in alphabetical order): Hafital, Jat Sapphire,
Roisin, and T'Aaneli, without whose help this would be a much shorter
- and far less interesting - story.  Oh, yes, Carola also gave me
suggestions on the first sex scene, so I think she'll recognize that
part at least. I don't always  listen to my betas, so don't blame them
for any of this. You should see they  what made me take out.

Chronology:  "Serpents" take place after "The Opening Door" and "The
Workout."  Yes, I know that "Private Little War" came before "Tholian
Web" in canon chronology, but I couldn't resist spackling it, so it's
another place that I want you to suspend belief when you visit my
"Island."

---

It was late in the ship's beta shift.  Spock was working in his
quarters when the door slid open, and Jim walked in.

"Am I disturbing you, Spock?"

Spock leaned back in his chair to study Jim.  His face was flushed,
his hair was damp, and the faint scent of his customary pine shampoo
teased at Spock's senses.  Wearing only athletic pants and a
short-sleeved tunic, he was barefoot.  Spock was slightly amused,
wondering how crewmembers would react to seeing the captain of the
Enterprise standing in his first officer's quarters dressed thus.
"No, you are not disturbing me.  I am surprised to  see you, but
pleased."

Jim drew a chair over close to Spock's, and sat down.  He leaned in
for a swift open-mouthed kiss, tangling his fingers in Spock's hair.
"I told you that I wasn't coming by this evening, but after Sulu
spanked me -"

"Our helmsman spanked you?"  Spock lifted an eyebrow and pulled away
from him fractionally.

Jim chuckled.  "Not literally.  It's just an expression.  Let's just
say I came out on the losing end in our fencing match."

"It would be better to describe it so."

"Okay, I'll try to be more clear in the future."  Jim popped up from
his seat and went behind the chair to put his hands on Spock's
shoulders.  The kneading motion on neck and shoulders released
tension that Spock had not been aware of before Jim touched him.

He whispered a kiss on the back of Spock's neck.  "I know that you
wanted to work on that research paper; I stayed away as long as I
could, but - "

"You missed me.  And I, you."  Spock closed his eyes briefly, allowing
the  sensation of Jim's fingers to flow through his suddenly relaxed
body.  "Apparently, the action of Mr. Sulu spanking you - "

Another laugh escaped Jim.  His hands stilled for a moment and then
moved down to caress Spock's chest.  "Hmm, if *you* were interested
in spanking me  - "

Spock reached up to capture one of Jim's hands to bring it to his
mouth.  "If I understand the idiom correctly, perhaps you wish me to
'spank you' at chess?"

Another laugh.  "No, if it were chess, I would put up a fight."

With a swift movement, Spock turned his chair, grasped Jim's hands,
and pulled him into his lap.  "Then you are now asking me to be
literal?"  Spock curved one hand around the smooth nape of Jim's
neck, and stroked the other down his back to the base of his spine.
He pulled Jim closer and claimed his mouth in a long, slow, deep
kiss.

When they parted, Jim's breathing had accelerated, and his eyes
sparkled even  brighter.  "Have I ever told you what an amazing man
you are, Spock?"

"You have."  Spock placed his hands on the hem of Jim's shirt.  Jim
automatically raised his arms to allow the silky garment to be pulled
over  his head.  He was not wearing an undershirt, and Spock ran a
hand appreciatively over Jim's bare chest.  "Have I told you what an
aesthetically pleasing man you are, Jim?"

Jim laughed.  "Do you remember in 'The Persian Boy' when Bagoas was
fantasizing about Alexander?"

Spock kissed Jim's collarbone, and then, closing his eyes, Spock
rubbed his cheek against Jim's hard nipple.  "Yes, Lasha."  Spock saw
the words in his  mind as though they were printed on his closed
eyelids: 'Am I beautiful?  It is for you alone.  Say that you love me
for without you I cannot live.'  Jim's arms encircled Spock's neck.

Spock stood up abruptly, taking Jim in his arms.  There was token
resistance, but he was laughing when Spock situated him on the bed.
Stretching out beside him, Spock ran his fingers through golden hair.
"You *are* beautiful."

Jim found Spock's other hand, and brought it to his mouth.  "For you
alone."

Spock sat up to pull off his own boots and tunic.  Jim's hand caressed
his  back.  "And you are absolutely amazing in black.  I have half a
mind to order you to wear a black uniform shirt instead of science
blue."

"Unwise.  It could prove distracting on the bridge."  Because he did
wish to 'distract' in the privacy of his quarters, he did not remove
the black undershirt before he turned back to Jim.  Again, his hands
strayed over Jim's chest, savored the hardening of nipples, the
dilation of pupils, the ragged  breathing, and the scent that was an
intriguing combination of sweet, new-mown hay and male musk.  Jim
arched himself up to meet Spock's touch.  He placed his hands on the
waistband of Jim's pants.  He lifted his hips to allow Spock to pull
them down.

Spock wasn't surprised to discover that Jim was not wearing briefs.
Spock's hands slid down to caress Jim's hips, and then Spock brushed
his thumbs against Jim's testicles, eliciting a gasp and a moan.
"You were confident that I could be dissuaded from my plans to work
this evening, were you not?"

"Yesss."  The one word that Jim gasped out could have been a response
to  Spock's question, but was equally likely a response to the caress
of his  body.  Spock knelt between Jim's spread legs, and Jim thrust
up to press his straining penis against Spock's hand.

Spock sat back on his heels to survey his beloved.  Yes, Jim was
beautiful, and he was Spock's alone.  Although Spock was still
clothed in his undershirt and uniform pants, Jim lounged wantonly
before Spock, gloriously naked.

Jim's smile was seductive.  //Just who are you calling wanton?//

Spock smiled involuntarily, impressed by Jim's increasing ability to
send and read thoughts even when they were not in physical contact.
//I call thee wanton.//

//Wanton?  You make me so, t'hy'la.//  Jim pulled Spock down into his
arms.

Spock allowed his full weight to crush Jim momentarily.  Inexplicably,
his cool fingers seared Spock through his clothing as they resumed a
massage on the back of Spock's neck and shoulders.  When Spock lifted
himself away, his eyes and hands ran appreciatively down Jim's naked
flanks.

He pushed himself against Spock like a beloved pet consenting to be
stroked.  In the throes of first passion, he had instinctively called
Jim 'Lasha.'  Like Spock's pet sehlat, Lasha, this one was a wild
animal as well as a precious playmate, his power reined in by love.
For now, he played at being compliant under Spock's hands.

Jim had taught Spock much of what he knew about himself as a sexual
being.  Jim had come to Spock's bed as the most deeply sexual person
that he had ever known, and he was glad of Jim's experience.
However, Spock felt a curious pleasure when Jim confided that their
lovemaking satisfied him in ways that he had never before experienced.
"If you recall," Spock said, his mouth centimeters from Jim's, "there
was a certain touch technique that you requested - "

"Yes, I do recall."  He kissed Spock, a sweet tongue darting into his
mouth, before Jim rolled onto his stomach.

For a moment, Spock silently admired the muscular curves of the body
spread  out so willingly on his bed.  His eyes caressed that which his
hands soon  would stroke.  He opened the drawer of his bedside table
and extracted an  apparatus not generally found in a bedroom.  Last
week, Jim had astonished  Spock by appearing at his door with an
ahn'woon in his hand.  Although it was considered a deadly Vulcan
weapon, in truth, it answered well for the purpose for which Jim
suggested it - after Spock recovered from his initial shock and
reluctance at the suggestion.

He gasped when Spock pulled Jim's arms above his head and secured him
to the bed with the long straps of the ahn'woon.  Spock ran his hands
teasingly down Jim's shoulders, lingering on the sweet curve of the
backside, before he lifted Jim's hips with several pillows.

He remembered the quartermaster's frown of disapproval when he had
requisitioned additional pillows, but she had not dared to ask why the
first officer required them.

A second ahn'woon worked admirably to secure Jim's ankles, and he lay
spread-eagled on Spock's bed.

"Spock."

Spock turned Jim's head to silence him with a bruising kiss.

Spock's voice was low, his mouth against Jim's ear, when he said, "Do
not  speak.  I intend to take what is mine and enjoy your body.  You
will enjoy my touch, but you will not speak."

"Yes, of course, but - "

Spock drew away, but his eyes held Jim's as he brought his hand down
on the tempting backside.  Jim flinched in surprise and let out a soft
cry, but he  bit his lip and said nothing further.  Spock did not
strike Jim with anything close to full force, but his hand left a
faint mark, which flamed red as additional blows were administered.
Jim writhed under the touch, his breath coming out in gasps and soft
moans.

Heat rose from Jim's body, and Spock's nostrils were assaulted with
the musky scent of Jim's growing arousal.  Spock considered relieving
his own sweet agony by pushing his erection between the twitching
buttocks spread before him.  Given their mutual arousal, it would
take only a few strokes to send them both over the edge.  He rejected
the idea; he wanted to prolong the enjoyment for both of them.
Although Jim was secured firmly on his stomach, his face was turned so
that he watched Spock, his hazel eyes, glowing golden with desire.
Spock stood up, removed his trousers and undergarments, and rubbed
his erection against Jim's lips.  Lips parted and Jim's mouth opened
to suckle at Spock's erection hungrily.  Jim's enjoyment was evident
as he expertly wrapped his tongue  around the head and bathed it with
his cool saliva.  The touch of his tongue seemed to light a fire
where it touched Spock's skin, and the heat radiated out to his
entire body.  Because he desired more of the delicious sensation,
he gently pushed himself further into Jim's mouth and teased at the
back of his throat.  Jim took in as much as he could with his head
held at the awkward angle.

Spock's other hand began a slow massage down the length of Jim's body,
beginning with the nape of his neck, stroking down his shoulder, and
then  squeezing first the right buttock and then the left.  His
fingers next insinuated themselves between Jim's spread thighs,
teasing his testicles, and  causing Jim to gasp - a sound that was
almost completely muffled by the penis  in his mouth.

When Spock pulled away, Jim let out a low groan of frustration.
"Spock, I  want -"

Spock silenced Jim with another blow.  This one was perhaps a little
harder than the earlier blows, and it left an additional red mark.
However, Jim's writhing motions against the pillow beneath him told
Spock that he was aroused by the punishment.  He delivered several
additional blows before he found that he no longer wished to delay
satisfying his arousal.

Spock knelt between Jim's spread thighs and drew his erection across
the red marks left by his hand.  Jim bucked back against Spock - no
easy feat because  he was held firmly at all four of his limbs.  Spock
stroked his hands down  Jim's backside and savored the feel of
muscular legs.  When he ran his thumbs  along the softness of Jim's
inner thighs, Jim stifled his moans by turning his head into the
pillow under his head.

Using his knees, Spock spread Jim's legs further, and positioned his
hands on Jim's backside, thumbs teasing into the crevice between the
buttocks.  Jim  was breathing harshly, pushing himself into the pillow
and then pressing himself back against Spock.

Spock fitted his erection along the crevice and executed several
experimental thrusts before pulling away from him.  Jim murmured in
protest as Spock broke the contact to lean over to the bedside table
to hunt for the tube of lubricant.

He lightly touched Jim's mind, so that he could *feel* Spock leisurely
coating his own erection.  Spock also *felt* the heat of desire that
enflamed  Jim.  "You may speak now.  Tell me what you wish me to do to
you."

Jim choked on a laugh and said, "You know what I want.  I want you to
fuck my brains out."

Spock stroked his hands over the flesh that covered the muscles of
Jim's legs; savoring the sensation of silk over steel.  "Indeed?
Perhaps it is  best that I do not expect conversation from you at this
time.  'Fuck my  brains out' is hardly the elegant turn of phrase that
I would expect from a man of your education."

"And you think I talk too much - "  This last was interrupted by a low
moan  as Spock gently squeezed Jim's testicles.  "Put it in, Spock.  I
want you now." Spock coated Jim's opening with lubricant and
continued his caress of  Jim's inner thighs.  Spock leaned over to
release Jim's ankles from their bonds, and Jim bucked back to impale
himself on Spock's erection.

"You are so... impatient..."  However, Spock found himself unable to
speak  further as he was engulfed in Jim's core.  The tightness and
sliding sensation produced a feeling of vertigo, and Spock propelled
himself forward, burying his erection completely, resting his full
weight on Jim.  He rubbed his face into the sweet silk of Jim's hair,
and lay still momentarily, breathing in the mingled scent of their
arousal.

Jim's voice was a hoarse whisper.  "You feel so good, so hot and hard,
filling me up."  His words were punctuated by a gasp as Spock shifted
his  weight to unfasten the restraints on Jim's hands and bury himself
deeper in the body beneath him.  Once freed, Jim braced himself to
push back, but Spock would not allow him to take control.  He sat
back again on his heels, cupping his hands under Jim's hips to lift
them to a more convenient angle, and commenced driving himself into
Jim's body.  He began slowly, pulling himself all the way back out of
the tight opening, and leisurely insinuating himself once more inside.
Jim  gasped out Spock's name over and over as the pounding began.  The
pace became  quicker and more forceful.  Spock felt both of their
heartbeats quicken, and his blood seemed to roar in his ears.

The texture of Jim's flesh under Spock's hands, and the sensation of
the  tightness sliding over his own highly sensitized erection was
unbearably sweet.  Spock was torn between the desire to pierce this
flesh over and over, listening to Jim's sounds of pleasure, and the
compulsion to seek release.  He lifted Jim's hips higher and wrapped
a hand around his hardness; the sweat from their exertions provided
enough lubrication to allow a blissful  friction.

Jim cried out with pleasure and drove himself forward into Spock's
hand and then backward to impale himself further on his lover's
erection.

Recognizing that they were both near climaxing, they simultaneously
sought each other's mind.  Jim's mind voice filled Spock's brain.
//Spock.  Oh,  yes.  Love.  You are.  Oh, Spock.//

Spock's own thoughts were equally chaotic.  //T'hy'la.  My own.  My
everything.//

They rode the crest of their arousal and pleasure together.  When they
did  spill over, neither knew where their separate orgasms began and
ended.  They  collapsed together, and Spock wrapped his arms around
Jim's waist to pull him  close.

Jim's breathing slowed, and his pulse rate returned to a more normal
level.  A shiver stole through him when Spock kissed the back of his
neck.  More tremors shook him as Spock nipped at his shoulder.

"Where did you learn to fuck like that?"  Jim laughed softly.

"You well know."  Spock bit gently at Jim's ear lobe.

---

Later, as he sluiced soapy water down Jim's back, Spock recalled Jim's
earlier seductive words.  "Am I to understand that I am now cast as
Alexander when you share my bed?"  Spock reached around to stroke his
hand down Jim's smooth chest.

"Mmm?  Because I quoted Bagoas?"  He pressed himself back against
Spock.  //Yes, Al'skander, lord of my heart, I am your bed boy.//  A
soft laugh.

//My bed boy?//

Jim turned his head to kiss Spock's mouth.  "Well, only part time, of
course.  I wasn't planning to quit my day job."

Spock tightened his arms around Jim.  "You are an excellent starship
captain."  Jim's mouth smiled under Spock's as they kissed again.  //I
find you equally impressive as a bed boy.//

//I didn't spend nearly as much time training for that.//

"Indeed?  Your reputation is otherwise."

Jim let out an indignant sound, but changed it to a chuckle.  He
stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself.

Spock was toweling his own hair when he said, "I do not recall Bagoas
asking Alexander to 'fuck his brains out.'"

"Mmm.  Alexander never restrained him with an ahn'woon, I guess."
Another yawn and a shiver as Spock kissed his throat.

They were back in bed, arms wrapped around each other, when Jim spoke
again.  "Spock?"

"Lasha?"

"Does it bother you when I'm crude?  When I ask you to fuck my brains
out?"

Spock rested his mouth against the enchanting roundness of Jim's ear.
"Do you imagine that there is anything about your sexuality that I do
not value?"

"Even the ahn'woon?  As I recall, you were a little uncomfortable when
I first suggested that you tie me up with it?"

"I was somewhat...disconcerted.  However, I realized that it was a
method of controlling your reactions...in a sense removing the
negative images associated with that particular object."

Jim grinned.  "And I just thought it seemed like an efficient use of
resources.  We can use the thing in the gym for our workout and then
use it for our...um cooldown."  Spock shook his head wordlessly.
Jim's sense of humor to mask his true feelings was occasionally
worrying, but it was not the best time for a serious discussion.  He
followed Jim's lead in returning their conversation to the level of
post-coital banter.  "I believe that it was a compliment when you so
urgently requested that I 'fuck your brains out.'"

Another laugh and Jim shifted himself so that he was able to look into
Spock's eyes.  "It *is* a compliment.  You aren't, of course, my first
male lover, so I was hardly a virgin when you first...um, had me.
But I don't remember ever wanting anyone's cock as badly as I want
yours.  I've always enjoyed sex, in just about every position that
you can imagine - "

"Indeed.  You have shown me positions that I never thought to
imagine."

Jim's grin showed no trace of embarrassment.  "I do so thoroughly
enjoy it when you fuck me."

"Yes, I have noticed that on more than one occasion - "

He laughed and said, "You're supposed to tell me that you enjoy it,
too."

"I would not presume to tell you that which you already know so well."

Jim wrapped his arms around Spock's neck and pulled him close.  "I
love you."   He yawned again.  "Sorry, I'm beat."

"It is past time for you to sleep.  Good night, Jim."

They were both nearly asleep when Spock said,  "I trust that you
recall that the reverse is also true."

"What, Spock?"  Then Jim chuckled.  "Are you reminding me that you
also thoroughly enjoy being fucked by me?"

"Yes, Jim."

Another chuckle.  "Okay, I promise to return the favor tomorrow."

Satisfied, Spock composed himself for sleep, but awoke 2.5 hours later
to the whistle of the comm unit.  Swiftly, he left the bed, wrapped
himself in a robe, and keyed the audio only on the unit in his work
area.  "Spock here."

"Bridge, Mr.Spock.  It's Lieutenant Uhura.  You and the captain are
needed on the bridge. "

Before Spock could answer, Jim appeared in front of the desk.  "Kirk
here, Lieutenant.  What's up?"  He unsuccessfully attempted to stifle
a yawn and came around to stand behind Spock's chair, resting his
hands on Spock's shoulders.

"Sulu breaking in, sir, we have a possible contact with a Klingon
battle cruiser."

"Mr. Spock and I will be right there.  Kirk out."

They both headed back to the sleeping area.  "Damn."  Jim picked up
his shirt and pants from the chair.

"Captain?"  Spock was already in his uniform.

"Well, I can't go like this."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but found that he had to press his lips
together to keep from showing amusement at the thought of the captain
appearing on the bridge dressed in the clothing that he had been
wearing when he had slipped into his first officer's quarters the
night before.  "I will see you on the  bridge as soon as you have had
the opportunity to change."

Jim scowled at him, yanked on the pants, and threw the shirt over his
shoulder.  They exited together.  Spock headed for the bridge, and Jim
returned to his quarters.

---

When Jim appeared on the bridge minutes later, Spock smoothly rose
from the command chair, and headed for his station without looking in
Jim's direction.  "No further signs of contact, Captain."

Jim's eyes were fixed on the forward viewscreen as he sat down, and
absentmindedly noticed how warm Spock had left his chair.  "Nothing at
all?"

Sulu turned around.  "I was here at the beginning of gamma shift, sir.
I was training the new beta shift helmsman, and I stayed just to see
how Mr. Woods was doing on gamma shift.  A quarter hour in we had a
definite contact."

Jim stood up to prowl the well of the bridge before he turned to lean
on the railing behind the science station.  Spock was intent on his
sensors.  "Spock?  What about it?"

Spock shook his head without turning around.  "Nothing, sir."

Jim mounted the stairs and stood behind Spock's chair.  He turned back
to the helmsman's  station.  "You have a tape from the time of the
contact?  Put it on Spock's screen up here, Mr. Sulu."

"Switching, sir."

Crossing his arms, Jim studied the screen.  Spock stood up beside him
and pointed at the faint distortion.  "I see it, Mr. Spock."  Jim
turned back to Uhura.  "Anything from Starfleet regarding Klingon
activity in this sector?"

"Nothing, sir."

Jim frowned.  "When was our last contact with the Klingon vessel?"

Sulu turned in his chair.  "1.5 hours ago, sir."

Glancing at Spock again, Jim said, "We've still got nothing?"

"That is correct, Captain."

Jim rubbed his chin reflectively and glanced around the bridge.  The
majority  of his alpha shift had displaced their gamma shift
counterparts, and those officers were standing by with strained
expressions on their faces.

"Well, you were right to call me, Mr. Sulu, but it looks like this is
a  non-event."  He looked from one anxious face to another.
"Tomorrow's another day, and I'd prefer to have my alpha shift alert.
Let's leave the bridge to the gamma shift."

The looks of relief that swept over the faces of the gamma shift
officers gave Jim a twinge of guilt.  He had been neglecting them -
possibly making them feel like they weren't 'as good' as alpha shift.
"Sulu, Uhura, and the rest of you, get out of here."  His first
officer didn't stir.  "You, too,  Mr. Spock."

"Captain?"

Without looked at Spock, Jim said, "I'm gonna stick around for a
little bit just to make sure - "

"I will stay as well.  Additional sensor sweeps may - "

Jim draped himself across the console, pitching his voice so only
Spock could hear him.  "Spock, if you stay, the rest of the alpha
shift won't want to  leave.  And I'm serious that I want a well-rested
alpha shift - if something is going to happen, we all need to be
alert."

"The captain, of course, should also be alert."

"As if going back to bed will ensure that I get my rest..." Jim's
voice was  low; their conversation was intended for no ears but their
own.

Spock's eyebrow jumped.  His voice was barely a whisper.  "If you
require a sleeping aid - "

"I thought I told the alpha shift to get off the bridge."  Jim had
turned and raised his voice, his eyes sweeping the bridge.  He
watched several officers scurry for the turbolift, waiting for them
to leave.

He knew that Spock was right.  He did need to get some sleep.
Particularly if things were going to heat up with the Klingons soon.
He caught Spock's eye; Spock *was* his favorite sleep aid.  "Are you
coming with me - or do I  have to call Security to drag you away from
your station?"

"I will come with you, Captain."

When they were alone in the turbolift, Spock said, "It may be
difficult, of course, for you to explain to Chief Giotto when you
require his men to drag  your first officer back to your quarters to
share your bed."

Jim had been rubbing his eyes, and he dropped his hands to stare up at
Spock.  "I never said that - "

"Forgive me, Jim.  It was intended as a joke."

Jim's glare turned into a sheepish grin.  "Your captain is an idiot.
Next time I plan to spend the night somewhere other than my quarters,
I'll carry my comm cell."

"And where else are you planning to spend your nights?"

The turbolift came to a stop, and Jim led the way down the corridor,
stopping in front of his quarters.  "You are coming in, aren't you?"

"I am."  They walked through the door, and Jim keyed the lock behind
them as Spock continued speaking.  "Fortunately, if the bridge should
call looking for me here, I do keep a change of clothing in your
quarters."

Jim sighed and leaned back against the door.  "This is crazy."

"Specify."  Spock stood very close, looking down into Jim's face, but
he did not place his hands where he very much wanted to put them.

"I'm sorry.  Uhura called me in your quarters and Sulu - "

"You have fallen asleep in my quarters before.  After a particularly
long day...over a game of chess..."

Suddenly, Jim's arms slid around Spock's waist, and he rested his head
against Spock's shoulder.  "Are you suggesting that I should take
Uhura and Sulu aside tomorrow and say, 'You know it seems kind of
suspicious that I was in Spock's quarters, but...'?  I don't want to
deny that I'm in love with  you.  Is that what you want?"

Spock put his arms around Jim's shoulders and held him tightly. "No, I
do not wish that either."

"I'm glad."  Jim lifted his face for a kiss.

"You made me a promise, t'hy'la."  Spock pulled off Jim's tunic, and
then  began to pull off his own.

"Let me."  Jim removed Spock's tunic, and slid his hands under the
black undershirt.  "That was for tomorrow, remember?"

"It is now tomorrow."  Spock took Jim's hand and led him into the
bedroom.

Jim laughed as he sat down on the bed and watched Spock tugging off
his  boots.  "I would like to oblige you, but my first officer told me
that I needed rest."

Spock paused, caressing one of Jim's bare feet in the palm of his
hand.  "Your first officer?  He sounds like a meddler.  Must you
always do as he says?"

Jim laughed again.  "No, he's really amazing."

"Intelligent?"

"Brilliant.  And I recently learned something new to appreciate about
him. "

Spock pulled off Jim's other sock, and reached for the waistband of
Jim's trousers.  "And what is that?"

"He has the warmest ass."

Spock's eyebrow jumped.  "Were you not aware that a Vulcan's body
temperature is - "

"Of course, I knew that *you* had a hot ass, but just a little while
ago when my first officer relinquished the command chair to me, it
was toasty warm.  I'd never noticed that before. "

"If you would care to explore, you will find that the core temperature
is even higher."

"I gotta be out of my mind, but do you mind if we try something...less
strenuous?"  Jim lounged back on the bed, trying to stifle a yawn.

Spock bent over to kiss Jim's mouth. "You were most insistent that I
leave the bridge.  Perhaps you will make me forget my desire to
return to the bridge to study sensor records."

Jim wrapped his legs around Spock, and their cocks pressed together
trapped between their abdomens.  Spock took both of their cocks in
his hand, squeezing them together, his  hands slick with their
combined precum.  Jim's hand slipped down between them to lightly
grip their balls together.  Jim's tongue probed Spock's mouth,
keeping rhythm with Spock's hand.  They climaxed together, slow and
deep and easy.

After a swift clean-up, they rolled on their sides to sleep, Spock's
arms wrapped protectively around Jim.

"Horny Vulcan."  Jim's voice was a low murmur.

"Not precisely.  My intention was to ensure that you were relaxed
enough to sleep."

"Logical as always."

"Thank you, Jim."

---

Jim watched as his officers filed into the briefing room; he didn't
have to look sideways to *see* Spock beside him.  Since their
bonding, Spock was a constant, reassuring presence in his mind.

He let out his breath slowly and thought about Tyree.  Wondered what
he would look like after all of these years.  Wondered if he was in
danger from the Klingons that the Enterprise had been playing cat and
mouse with for the last 24 hours.

Skirmishes with Klingons were nothing new for Jim and his crew.
Eventually, the Federation and the Klingon Empire would end up with a
permanent peace, but Jim was sure it wouldn't happen in his lifetime.

He started the briefing by playing his report from 13 years ago, and
he caught Spock's eyes, reading his silent amusement at the
ridiculously young James T. Kirk on the screen.  Jim ended by saying,
"I'm not expecting trouble.  I don't automatically assume that the
Klingons have broken the Organian Peace Treaty by contacting this
world, but I want to be prepared for anything."

After the briefing, he watched his officers file out again, but Spock
remained seated.  Jim did the same, grateful for a chance for a
private word between the captain and his first officer before they
beamed down.

"Mr. Spock, something that you didn't want to share with the rest of
our  officers?"

Spock leaned back in his chair.  "An observation only, Captain.
Apparently, you chose your friend well - as he is now the leader of
his people."

Jim smiled.  "I did select Tyree for contact.  And I did have a hunch
that he would end up in power, but the friendship wasn't really
deliberate.  We just  - "

"Found that you had 'chemistry'?"  Spock lifted an eyebrow at Jim.

Jim found himself blushing.  Damn, what that Vulcan did to him!
"Don't tell  me that you're jealous of an affair that I had 13 years
ago."

Spock's eyebrow climbed higher.  "Captain, I said no such thing.  I
was merely gathering information about the closeness of your
friendship.  It is relevant information in determining - "

"As long as you're not planning to walk up to him and challenge him to
a duel."

Spock moved his chair fractionally closer to Jim's.  "Even aside from
the fact that we are not planning to make contact, why should I wish
to do such a thing?"

Feeling suddenly ridiculous, Jim said, "No, of course, you wouldn't.
I was just joking about the possibility that you might react with a
little bit of jealousy."

"Because so many of your 'old friends' turn out to be former lovers?"

Jim grinned and dropped his eyes to the table before lifting them
again to meet dark, smiling eyes.  "Well, I *did* sow a lot of wild
oats in the past.  But that's all in the past."

"I know that, my own."

"Spock."  Jim met the dark eyes of the man who was both his first
officer and his entire future.

Spock stood up abruptly.  "No doubt Dr. McCoy is wondering why we have
not joined him in the transporter room."

Jim got to his feet, too.  "No doubt.  Well, let's go to work."

---

Spock looked up from his tricorder when Jim returned from his
reconnaissance.  He had long observed that Jim was able to appear
relaxed in situations that would make most Terrans nervous.  This
particular mission was a textbook  example.  They were on a planet
where Jim had commanded his first landing  party 13 years ago.  Jim
knew the people of this planet to be peace-loving  and unspoiled - one
of his metaphorical 'Gardens of Eden.'  However, the recent
indications of Klingon activity were very much on both of their minds.
If the Klingons were here, there were possibilities that the 'Prime
Directive' - and the Organian Peace Treaty - had been violated.  Yet
Jim  seemed as calm and collected as if he were on the bridge of his
own ship.

Spock had been studying a mugato track, but Jim identified it as being
several days old.  They climbed up to a ridge to survey the valley.
Spock spotted a group of natives, and he lifted an eyebrow.  "I
believe you said that the natives used only bows and arrows,
Captain."  He gestured at the  group.  "They are carrying flintlocks."

Jim frowned.  "I don't understand."

Another group of natives came into view.  This one carried bows and
arrows.  Jim saw them almost at the same moment that Spock did.  He
shaded his eyes.  "One of those men.  That's Tyree.  The friend that
I lived with."

They realized at the same moment that Tyree was walking into a trap.
Jim drew his phaser.

"No, Captain.  The use of our phaser is expressly forbidden."  Spock
should not have had to remind Jim of that fact, but the stricken look
on his face told Spock that Jim was desperate to keep his friend from
being shot down  before their eyes.

Perhaps it was that desperation that led Jim to stoop to pick up a
rock.  Useless, Spock thought.  The men were over a hundred yards
away.  Desperation  gave Jim range and accuracy.  One man was almost
hit by the rock, and, in his  surprise, he fired his flintlock
erratically, revealing their position to Tyree and his men.

The warning was effective as the group with bows and arrows scattered,
making them no longer attractive as a target.  However, suddenly Jim
and Spock were targets.  One of the men with flintlocks snatched it
up and began to rapidly approach them.

"Let's get out of here."  At a dead run, Jim led the way back to the
beam-up point.  The first two shots missed, but the final one hit
home.  Spock felt the impact of the bullet, and he was flung forward
with surprising force.

His chest was on fire, and he lay with his face in the dirt, unable to
move.  His first thought was, "Keep going, Jim.  You must get to
safety," but he knew that Jim would not leave him.  He felt Jim's
hands lifting him.  Jim's mind bled anxiety as he turned Spock over
to hold him against Jim's chest.  For a moment, Spock experienced no
pain; he felt only the comfort of Jim's touch.  But the pain flared
again when Jim said, "Your phaser," and lowered him to the ground to
look for it.

Through eyes dimmed by agony, he watched Jim scrabble around, seeking
the weapon.  It must have been lost when Spock hit the ground.  He
understood that it was vital to retrieve the weapon before they left
this place, but he did not have the strength to help Jim.  He felt
Jim's mind flare up briefly with satisfaction when he found the
weapon, and then he experienced Jim's cold anger.

Spock's eyes flew open, and he saw Jim start to aim the phaser.  He
clutched at Jim's arm to restrain him from this forbidden display of
technology.  "No,  I can travel."

Jim holstered the phaser and grasped Spock under the armpits, lifting
him to his feet.  It took all of Spock's powers of concentration to
ignore the agony that filled his chest.  He willed his feet to obey,
but Jim was obligated to bear most of his weight.  Fortunately, Jim's
fear appeared to give him the necessary strength to propel them
forward.  //Spock, you're okay.  You're going to be okay.//

He heard Jim give the command to beam up, felt the reassurance of
Jim's arms  encircling him, the world appeared to shimmer around him,
and he knew nothing after that.

--

It happened so fast.  McCoy was taking tricorder readings, studying
some of the local flora that Jim had said were used for medicinal
purposed when he heard a shot.  He flipped open his communicator.
"Enterprise.  Alert.  Stand  by to beam up landing party."

Jim came crashing through the brush, half-carrying and half-dragging
Spock.  Jim looked almost as pale as Spock did.  "Beam us up quickly,
Bones."

"Now, Scotty.  Have medics stand by."  McCoy's eyes were on Spock,
held protectively against Jim, as the planet disappeared and the
transporter room  appeared.

For a minute, McCoy wondered if he'd have to ask Security to
physically restrain Jim from following them down to Sickbay.  The
last thing he needed  was Jim anxiously breathing down his neck while
he struggled to save Spock's life.

"Bones, can you save him?"  Jim knew enough to stay out of the way
after he lowered Spock gently to the gurney.  His voice was very
quiet with no sign of the fear that McCoy knew had to be bubbling up
inside of him.  However, McCoy's attention was completely on his
patient.

McCoy ordered Chapel to apply a pressure bandage.  He had to stabilize
Spock before he could begin the journey down to Sickbay.

The red-alert klaxon sounded.  Jim paused at the door to the
transporter room.  "Bones?"

McCoy didn't look up, but he heard the agony in Jim's voice.  The
red-alert signal meant that he *must* go to the bridge, but he *could
not* leave without a word from McCoy.  McCoy gave him those words,
but there was no  comfort in them.  "I don't know yet, Jim."

He and M'Benga had barely arrived in Sickbay when Jim called from the
bridge.  McCoy's attention was focussed on his patient, and he deeply
resented the distraction, but the anxiety in Jim's voice demanded an
answer.  "I'll call  you as soon as I know anything.  Sickbay out."
McCoy couldn't be any more specific than that.

Half an hour later, Jim appeared in Sickbay, looking like he was the
one that had been shot by the flintlock.  He gripped the edge of the
table as if it were the only way he could stay on his feet.

McCoy's attention was riveted on Spock.  M'Benga looked up at McCoy
and said, "We've no replacements for the damaged organs; if he's
going to live, sir, his Vulcan physiology will have to do it for
him."

There was no emergency now.  Only the necessity to wait.  McCoy walked
over to Jim.  "He'll live or die now, Jim.  I don't know which."  He
paused, watching Jim's hands clench as he absorbed the information.
Something nudged  t McCoy's mind, and he found that he did have one
piece of reassurance to give to Jim.  "Dr. M'Benga interned in a
Vulcan ward. He couldn't be in  better hands."

Jim tried to smile, but he didn't completely succeed.  "Then you and I
are transporting down, Bones."

"I can't leave Spock at this time."

"You just indicated that you could."  In spite of his pallor, Jim's
eyes were flashing.  "There are Klingons here.  If their mission is a
legitimate research interest in the planet's organic potential, then
you're the one man who can tell me."

"And if that's not it?"  McCoy glanced at the frighteningly low
readings on  the biobed, then back at Jim.  He thought that he
detected a tremor in Jim's  hands, but, seeing McCoy's eyes shift back
to him, Jim put them behind his back quickly.   "Then I need
help...advice I can trust as much as Spock's."  Jim squared his
shoulders.

"I appreciate the compliment, Jim, but..."

"Bones, I'm as worried about Spock as you are."

More, McCoy thought as he studied the lines of strain on Jim's face,
but he didn't say it out loud.

"If the Klingons are breaking the treaty, it could be interstellar
war."  He wondered if Jim was flattering McCoy to convince him to
beam down, but another look told him that Jim was beyond artifice.
His eyes were on the  still figure on the biobed, but his mind was on
his duty.  Jim keyed the comm unit to call the bridge.  He gave the
order to prepare native costumes for McCoy and Jim to wear down to
the planet.

When Jim walked over to Spock's bed, McCoy followed him.  M'Benga had
left the room, but Chapel stood on the right side of the bed.  Jim
didn't spare her a glance or a word as he stopped at the left side of
the bed and put out a hand to brush Spock's hair back off his
forehead.

McCoy glanced at Chapel.  "Nurse, will you ask Dr. M'Benga to come
back in  here?"  Partly, he wanted M'Benga to talk to Jim, but mostly
he wanted Christine out of there, not watching Jim with her eyes
revealing her resentment over his right to touch Spock.  Not that Jim
noticed or would have cared if he did notice.

"Bones, give us a minute, will you?"

McCoy opened his mouth to protest, but realized that he should have
expected this.  "You got it."  He headed for the door, but couldn't
resist glancing back.  Jim had stroked his fingers into Spock's hair
and was leaning over to kiss his mouth.

He exited the inner ward of the Sickbay and headed for his office.
Near the door, McCoy practically collided with M'Benga.  "There you
are, Doctor.  The captain wants to talk to you, but he asked for a
moment of privacy first."

"That's not actually a good idea."

McCoy blinked at the other man.  "What are you talking about?  If you
think I'm going to tell the captain that he can't - "

"I understand how the captain feels, but it's not safe for either of
them."

McCoy watched in astonishment as M'Benga headed back in.  When he
recovered  from his initial shock, McCoy followed him, and they both
discovered that there was no sign of Jim.  They both turned at the
unmistakable sound of Jim emptying the contents of his stomach into
the head.

Jim stood up shakily, rinsed his mouth, and then splashed his face
with cold  water.  He avoided the eyes of the man in the mirror.  He
was annoyed with himself for being sick.  It was bad enough that
Spock was lying in Sickbay, more dead than alive, and that he had a
bad situation down on the planet, but now he seemed to be coming down
with the flu.

He walked out of the bathroom and encountered two pairs of concerned
eyes.  "Doctors, I'm sorry.  Bones, what've you got to get rid of
nausea?"

McCoy aimed his mediscanner at Jim.  "Dammit, when did this start?  I
know you said that we had to beam down again, but you're not going
anywhere like this."

Jim ignored the dizziness that was invading his head again.  He willed
himself to stand up straight.  "I don't have any choice.  Just give me
something to hold me together."

M'Benga nodded.  "As I suspected."  He turned to look at McCoy.  "I'm
sure that a few stimulants won't do any harm.  Just to hold the
captain together until the current crisis is passed."

McCoy started to protest.  Jim knew he wasn't used to taking orders
from other doctors in his own Sickbay, but apparently something about
the way M'Benga looked at McCoy sent him back to his office for the
recommended stimulants.

The dark eyes turned to study Jim.  "Now, Captain, we need to discuss
what is really needed."

Jim frowned, his eyes flickered over to Spock, who lay so still on the
biobed.  He felt a jolt of fear go through him.  "For me or for
Spock?"

"As I told Dr. McCoy, he has successfully initiated the healing trance
-  although your presence could distract him - "

"Thanks a lot.  If you're trying to make me feel guilty, I already
feel bad enough about him getting shot.  Besides, shouldn't my being
here help?"  It was a senseless thing to say; of course, he had to
leave.  Jim grasped the side of the bed as another wave of vertigo
shot through him.  "Damn."

"He cannot afford the distraction at present."

Jim frowned.  "I don't know - "

"Trust me, child."

The words were spoken in Vulcan, and Jim suddenly felt himself
relaxing and breathing out his tension.

"You know that I am a Vulcan-trained Healer?"

Jim did know that about M'Benga; that was why he had personally
recruited him to join the Enterprise as a research scientist.  He
nodded wordlessly.

"Your illness started when he was wounded?"

Jim started to shake his head, but he realized that he'd been too
distracted to notice that only sheer will had kept him on his feet
during the last couple of hours of anguish.  "Yes, but - "

"It is the bond that is causing you such suffering."  M'Benga studied
Jim's face impassively, and, for a moment, Jim wondered if M'Benga
actually was a  Vulcan with a recessive gene that had caused his ears
to turn out round.

"I don't understand."

"You have bonded with Commander Spock, haven't you?"

Jim almost blushed, and considered being annoyed with M'Benga.  That
was private.  How did M'Benga know?  And why was it any of his
business?  But Jim faintly recalled reading about some physiological
effects of the bond.  If M'Benga needed the information to help
Spock...

"Yes, we did bond."

"It is both his injury and his healing trance that is causing your
incapacity."

Jim frowned and ran a shaking hand through his hair.  "The bond?  Are
you saying that if I had been hurt instead, he would be - "

"Incapacitated?  Yes, most likely."

"Dammit, Spock."  Jim walked away from M'Benga and gazed down at
Spock's  still face.  "Why didn't you tell me that this could happen?"

M'Benga said nothing; he apparently realized that the question was for
Spock  - who wasn't able to answer it just then.

Jim put out his hand, but resisted his impulse to touch Spock.  He
looked up  at M'Benga.  "I can't be incapacitated.  Can you help me?"
Jim felt a chill  - he acknowledged that he was scared as hell that
the only answer was to break the bond.  What would be the effect on
Spock?  On Jim?  Would Spock  ever forgive him for breaking their bond
because of his duty?

"Yes.  Will you trust me?"

Jim closed his eyes and willed himself to not resist when M'Benga's
mind touched his own.

---

Almost as soon as they beamed down, McCoy fervently wished that they
hadn't returned to that cursed planet.  When Jim was attacked by the
mugato, McCoy didn't draw his phaser immediately.  He was too aware
of the fact that they were supposed to hide their technology.  By the
time he realized that throwing rocks wasn't going to work, it was too
late.  Jim had been badly mauled and bitten.  The phaser took care of
the animal, but Jim was writhing in agony from the pain of the wound
and the effects of the deadly poison.  While he was still coherent,
Jim said that McCoy had to find Tyree's people.  They had a cure for
the poison from a mugato bite.

McCoy couldn't remember the last time that he'd felt so helpless.
Spock was up on the Enterprise, probably dying, and Jim was sprawled
at his feet, definitely dying.  And with the Enterprise warped out of
orbit, there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly, a group of natives surrounded him.  McCoy thanked every god
in the heavens; they were Tyree's people and they knew of a healer.
McCoy trailed  behind as they carried Jim back to their camp.

There was no reason to feel relief yet, but McCoy did feel better once
he had Jim in the cave, covered him with furs, and heated the rocks
with his phaser.  The natives had promised to summon Tyree.  He hoped
that Tyree could produce the healer that Jim needed.  With the
Enterprise out of range, McCoy had no chance of synthesizing an
antidote.

When the healer was brought in, McCoy was surprised for a moment. The
woman was exotically beautiful. Not what he had expected.  But in
moments, McCoy was more interested in the plant that she held in her
hand.  It seemed to writhe and tremble as though it were alive.

McCoy watched in shocked fascination as the man who had introduced
himself as Tyree slit the woman's hand and blood poured out.  She
slapped her bleeding hand on the wound on Jim's shoulder with the
root between them.  She went into some kind of trance.  It vaguely
reminded McCoy of Spock mindmelding with that rock creature, the
Horta.  Such a strange thought.  And even  stranger was McCoy's
feeling of relief that Spock wasn't here to witness this ceremony.
It really did seem more like some ceremony than a medical treatment -
down to the drum that Tyree struck rhythmically.  He thought of
ancient Earth when healers were regarded almost as witches to be
respected and feared.  Not his preferred bedside manner.

He watched Jim's face, saw the torment, but then saw peace.  Jim's
lips moved, silently formed Spock's name, and relaxed in a smile.  He
woke up for a moment when McCoy bent over him.

"Bones, I had the strangest dream."

"How do you feel, Jim?"  Out of the corner of his eyes, McCoy saw a
smile appear on Tyree's face.

"Tired.  Very tired.  You did a fine job, Bones.  I think I'll sleep."
There was no sign of a wound on Jim's shoulder.

McCoy looked up at the woman.  "I want to thank you for saving his
life."  There was no trace of a wound on the woman's hand either.  "I
would like to learn more about this."

"Our blood has passed through the mako root together.  Our souls have
been together.  He is mine now."

"She will sleep also, " Tyree said.

McCoy stood up to follow Tyree and the woman - Tyree's wife - to the
outer chamber of the cave.  The woman looked over her shoulder with a
tired smile of triumph on her face.

"He is hers?"  McCoy was shocked and puzzled.  Maybe he did wish that
Spock were here.

Tyree's expression was serious.  "When a man and a woman are joined in
this manner, he can refuse her no wish."  A pause.  "But it is only
legend."

McCoy returned to check on his patient.  As he bent over Jim, relieved
to note that the fever was almost gone, he thought of the Dohlman
Elaan.  After she had infected Jim with her tears, McCoy had worked
desperately to find a cure for Jim's chemical dependence on her, but
Spock seemed to supply the only antidote that Jim had needed.  He
sort of felt sorry for Spock, but, heck Spock knew what he was
getting into when he 'got involved' with Jim.

This woman of Tyree's had the same acquisitive look as Elaan as she
gazed at Jim.  Hell, no wonder Jim was with Spock - it seemed like
every woman he encountered wanted him for his power.  McCoy shook his
head.  Where had that come from?  He certainly didn't know what the
woman's intentions were.  He just felt uncomfortable with the way she
had smiled when she said, 'He is  mine.'

McCoy was even more disturbed when he woke up hours later and
discovered that Jim had wandered off.  He found him sitting next to
the woman looking as though he were sleep-walking.  He grabbed Jim's
arm to drag him away, and, still half-asleep, Jim stared at McCoy and
said, 'Bones, what are you doing  here?  Where's Spock?"

Jim came fully awake when Tyree leaped from his bed.  The two men
stared at each other in delight.  McCoy had the oddest
sensation...yeah, this was one of the men that Jim had alluded to.
One of the male lovers that McCoy had never met.  He could tell by
Jim's open-mouthed grin and the way Jim and Tyree looked at each
other.

When the woman came up behind Jim, Tyree's eyes shifted to her.  The
man's eyes had the look of a man who's been enchanted.  Stupid
thought, McCoy told himself impatiently.  But he was thinking about
Tyree's earlier words...Tyree had been referring to himself when he
talked about the man who could deny the woman nothing.

McCoy kept his eye on Jim during the discussion with Tyree about what
was happening with the villagers.  He was concerned about what was
going on with Tyree's planet, of course, but his concern was more
personal.  Jim did this  all the time right after being injured.  He
jumped right out of his sick bed and plunged himself in the middle of
action.  Of course, it was necessary.  It was always necessary.  But
McCoy was just as concerned about his state of mind as he was about
how well his body had healed.

Despite Tyree's words that had set off the warning in McCoy's head,
Jim's eyes passed right over the woman when she came in to insist on
what they must do to help Tyree.  No, he didn't have the look of a
man who could 'refuse the woman no wish.'   McCoy put that worry out
of his mind temporarily.

The woman attacked Jim verbally, saying that he was the wrong kind of
friend if he would not supply weapons to prevent his friend from
being killed.  She insisted that they must kill the villagers before
the hill people were all killed.  Tyree turned on his wife.  "I said
I will not kill."

After she walked out, Tyree said to Jim, "You will help in ways that
she does not understand.  I have faith in our friendship, James."

Tyree left the cave, and McCoy had a moment alone with Jim.  "What's
bothering you, Jim.  If we find the Klingons have helped the
villagers, there's certainly something we can do."

Jim did not turn to meet McCoy's eyes as he tucked his phaser into his
waistpack.  "That's what's bothering me.  The *something* we may have
to do. "

As McCoy followed Jim out of the cave, he was torn between being
flattered and being flat-out scared that Jim had invited him along on
this reconnaissance mission.  He wanted to remind Jim that he was
just an old country doctor, not Jim's imperturbable, indestructible
Vulcan, but he didn't really want to remind Jim that his
indestructible Vulcan was laying in a biobed and neither of them had
any idea how he was.

They raided the villagers' ironworks and grabbed several flintlocks.
There was a tense moment when a villager and a Klingon entered the
room; the hum of McCoy's tricorder gave away their presence.
Luckily, they got out of it alive because of Jim's streetfighting
ability and the fact that McCoy's  survival instinct kicked in enough
to allow him to take out one of the villagers by braining him with a
flintlock.

McCoy was still shaking a little when he hunkered down under the furs
in his assigned corner of Tyree's cave.  Jim's eyes were closed, but
McCoy could tell he wasn't sleeping.

"Jim, I hate to admit it, but you were right."

"About what, Bones?"  Jim sounded totally exhausted, but he answered
promptly.

"I do need to work out with the combat instructor.  But do you think
you can teach me some of your moves?"

Jim yawned and turned on his side.  "I learned a lot at the Academy,
but I've also been working out with Spock for a while, so - "

"And the flying butt-kick is an ancient Vulcan combat technique?"

McCoy heard Jim chuckle just before a small pelt came flying in his
direction.  "Thanks, Jim."  McCoy rolled it up, and it made a real
comfortable pillow.

---

Spock felt surprisingly refreshed when he sat up.  Mr. Scott was
reacting with shock to the fact that first Chapel and then M'Benga
had struck Spock to revive him from his healing trance.

As he waited for the dispute to die down, he reached into that part of
his mind where Jim lived - just as he automatically did every time he
had awakened in the 74 days since he had formed their bond.  He
fought back his faint alarm.  Jim was still there, but something was
blocking the bond and he could not *feel* the thread that stretched
between them.

He stood up and reassured the three Terrans that he was well.
"Doctor, I require a word with you.  Alone."

With a resentful backward glance, Nurse Chapel followed Mr. Scott out
of  Sickbay.  Spock wondered whether he should speak to her about the
impropriety  - and uselessness - of her holding his hand when he
belonged to another.  However, he decided that it would serve no
purpose to discuss the matter with her.

He turned to M'Benga.  "The captain?  Where is he?  Is he well?"

M'Benga surprised him by smiling faintly.  "He is on the planet.  As
far as we know, he is well."  M'Benga stepped closer and stretched
his hand out to Spock's face.  He tilted his head slightly, asking
permission.  "A touch  only.  To be sure that all is well with you."

"Yes, Healer."  He nearly gritted his teeth.  Spock had found that he
did not care for any mind - other than Jim's - touching his.
However, he understood the necessity.  The healing trance was an
effective technique, but it had its risks - especially for a
half-Vulcan.

M'Benga's touch was fleeting - both the physical experience of the
hand on his face and the intrusion of the unfamiliar mind.  The
Healer backed away after 30 seconds with a grunt of satisfaction.
"You are well."

"The captain?"

M'Benga frowned slightly.  Disapproval?  Discomfort?  "Your bond is
strong -  surprising when one of the participants is a non-telepath -
and it is new."

"Yes."  Spock's voice and expression were carefully noncommittal.  He
waited to determine what M'Benga's point was in pursuing this line of
discussion.

"I respect your decision to form the bond privately.  However, you
have endangered your bondmate by not giving him the necessary
training to handle the accompanying risks.  It would be possible to
obtain this training without losing your privacy."

"I am not concerned about privacy.  What did you do to protect him?"

M'Benga folded his arms across his chest.  "I have assisted him in
blocking the bond."

Spock found that he could not meet M'Benga's eyes.  "Temporarily?  Or
is it permanent?"

"Temporarily.  However, it is possible that this is a permanent
problem for the captain and you."

"Understood."  Spock unclenched his hands and turned his mind to duty.
"I assume that you will certify me fit to leave Sickbay, Doctor?"

---

Jim didn't waste any time with the flintlocks that he'd stolen from
the  villagers.  McCoy thought they were going to take them back to
the ship, file a grievance against the Klingons, and use them as
evidence.  Of course, they still couldn't contact the ship.  But
when McCoy discovered Jim conducting a class in shooting the
flintlocks, he watched for a minute, reading the look of horror and
frustration on Tyree's face.  Jim - well, Jim always looked happier
when he was *doing* something.  McCoy would begrudgingly admit that
Jim was an excellent tactician, but he was even better at charging -
sometimes blindly - forward.

"Jim, I want to talk to you. "

Jim led him back to the cave, and the sparkle in Jim's eyes faded
immediately as soon as McCoy started to speak.  He told Jim in no
uncertain terms that he hated the idea of teaching these people to
shoot flintlocks and to kill each  other.  Jim got that familiar
stubborn look on his face.

"Have you gone out of your mind?"  McCoy suddenly remembered something
that scared the hell out of him. "Yes, maybe you have.  Tyree's wife.
She said there was something in that root...she said now you could
refuse her nothing."

Jim waved a hand through the air as though to dismiss McCoy's words.
He sounded surprisingly calm when he said, "Superstition."

McCoy leaned forward across the table.  "Is it a coincidence that this
is exactly what she wants?

"Is it?  She wants superior weapons.  That's the one thing that
neither side can have."

McCoy soon discovered that Jim really had given this whole thing
plenty of thought.  They both shouted at each other.  Nothing new
about that.  Jim tried to pull rank, but he knew damn well that McCoy
didn't give a damn about Jim's rank.

When they both calmed down for a moment, Jim said, "Alright, Doctor.
Say I'm wrong.  Say I'm drugged.  Say the woman drugged me.  What is
your sober, sensible solution to all this?"

McCoy tried to look away, but Jim was right in his face.  "I don't
have a solution, but furnishing them firearms is certainly not the
answer."

They argued some more.  Jim launched into one of his speeches -
complete with the emphatic hand gestures.  This one was about the
bush wars on ancient  Earth and the necessity of providing equal
weapons to both sides.  A 'balance  of power' was what Jim called it.

McCoy changed tactics.  "What about your friend Tyree?  Will he
understand this 'balance of power?"

"No, probably not.  But I'm going to have to try to make him
understand.  I never had a more difficult task."  Jim really did look
like hell.  McCoy  wondered if he'd slept at all the last couple of
nights.  More likely he'd been awake planning.  Too bad McCoy hated
the plan that he'd come up with.

"Well, Jim here's another morsel of agony for you.  Since Tyree won't
fight, he'll be one of the first to die."

Jim nodded.  Obviously, he'd thought of that, too.  "Well, war isn't a
good life, but it's...life."  Jim hesitated.  "His wife is the only
way to reach him.  If I tell her that we'll supply guns, maybe she'll
convince him."

Jim stared unseeingly at his phaser and his communicator before he
stuffed them in his waistpack.

When he started to walk away, McCoy reached for his arm.  "Jim, how
are you doing?"

Jim tilted his head toward McCoy.  "I'm fine.  Why?"  McCoy was about
to look in his bag for his mediscanner.  "When you first woke up, you
asked me where Spock was, but you haven't mentioned him since."

Jim shrugged.  "We both know - he's aboard ship.  And neither of us
know if he's okay, so there's no sense - "

"Yeah, but you must have some feelings about that."

Jim turned away and seemed to find something interesting to study on
the cave wall.  "I can't.  I'm the captain.  I've got a job to do.  I
just have to hope that when we're done here...that he'll still be
there."  Jim turned back to look at McCoy.  "You know that there's a
Klingon battle cruiser in orbit here.  For all I know, my ship's
gone, too."

McCoy was speechless and, for just a moment, he was furious with Jim.
Why hadn't he told McCoy?  Well, maybe he had.  McCoy had just been
too distracted.  Damn, what had Jim been going through?  Worrying
about Spock.  Worrying about his ship.  Worrying about Tyree's
people.  And he'd hidden it all behind a face that showed fierce
delight in raiding the village and in teaching Tyree's people how to
use the spoils of that raid.

In spite of his jokes to the contrary, McCoy had always admired
Spock's emotional control in a crisis.  Sometimes, he wondered how
Spock could handle Jim's fierce emotions.  But now McCoy remembered
that Jim had nearly the same control when he was under pressure - and
he didn't have years of Vulcan training.  Well, the conditioning that
human males receive in their adolescence wasn't that far off - and,
of course, there was the command-school conditioning.

McCoy wanted to tell Jim he was sorry and that he was surprised that
Jim hadn't decked him, but Jim was gone before McCoy could find any
words.

---

An hour later, Tyree walked into camp alone, and something in his
manner troubled McCoy.  "Where's Captain Kirk?"

The man beside McCoy said, "Tyree.  The firestick?  Where is it?"

"There! I left it there."  Tyree gestured angrily behind him.

McCoy grabbed his arm.  He wasn't afraid of the rank of the tribe
leader any more than he was afraid of the rank of starship captain.
"That's a fine thing to leave lying around.  Show us where it is."

They tramped through the brush for several minutes, with McCoy's
anxiety growing.  They came to a waterfall in a clearing, and they
found Jim on his knees with his head in his hands. Jim had been hit
on the head, and he was pretty disoriented.  After he found some
headache pills for Jim, McCoy looked up and intercepted an angry look
that Tyree turned on Jim, but there wasn't time to wonder about that.

They found the flintlock a couple of feet away from Jim.  When they
discovered that his phaser was gone, McCoy had a moment of disgust
that Jim had even been carrying the damn thing, but then he started
worrying about the possibility that Jim had a concussion.  Jim shook
off McCoy's concern.

Jim stood up saying that Tyree's wife must have taken the phaser to
the villagers.  He didn't say it out loud, but McCoy knew that Jim
was thinking that if Tyree wasn't willing to use the power, his wife
was just the type that would find someone who would.

McCoy had no idea how Jim knew where to look for Tyree's wife, but as
he scrambled up an embankment, trying to keep up with Jim, Tyree, and
Tyree's men, he suddenly heard her screams.

They got there in time to see Tyree's wife stabbed.  Almost
immediately, McCoy was winged by a bullet from one of the villager's
flintlocks, but it was just a flesh wound.  Jim, of course, ran right
into the fight.  Why he wasn't shot dead, McCoy would never know.
Something about random chance operating in his favor.

McCoy stayed out of this fight.  He'd had a bellyful of fighting by
now.  He knelt behind Tyree's wife.  Yes, she was dead.

After the fight, McCoy told both Tyree and Jim.  Saw the pain in
Tyree's eyes.  Love?  Not just enchantment?

Tyree turned angry eyes on Jim as he picked up the flintlock.  "I want
more of these, Kirk.  Many more."  Kirk.  Not James.  McCoy saw that
register on Jim's face.  A warrior gained, but a friend lost.  Tyree
turned to his men and ordered them to hunt down the villagers that
had fled.  "I will kill them."

McCoy came to stand beside Jim.  Jim looked shattered.  McCoy said,
"Well, you got what you wanted."

Jim straightened his shoulders.  "Not what I wanted, Bones.  What had
to be."

Something made McCoy take the communicator out of his bag, and some
great god allowed Spock to answer when Jim called the ship.

"Spock, are you alive?"  McCoy jumped in quickly to cover up the fact
that Jim was momentarily speechless.

"An illogical question, Doctor, since obviously you are hearing my
voice."  Spock's voice was a tired rumble in spite of his acerbic
comeback.

"I don't know why I was worried.  You can't kill a computer."

Jim, recovering his composure, said, "Mr. Spock, ask Scotty how long
it'll take him to reproduce a hundred flintlocks?"

A pause.  Then Scotty's voice came back.  "I didn't get that exactly,
sir.  A hundred what?"

"A hundred...serpents.  Serpents for the Garden of Eden."  Jim sighed,
and his shoulders sagged.  "We're very tired, Mr. Spock.  Beam us up
home."

---

Jim stepped off the transporter platform.  Somehow he had not expected
to see Spock standing behind the transporter console.  Their eyes met
and held.

"Welcome aboard, Captain."

Jim stood very still.  "Good to see you on your feet again, Mr. Spock.
How are you?"

"I am fully recovered, sir.  And you?"

Spock didn't know about what had happened on the planet.  Kirk wanted
to tell Spock everything, including what had happened with Tyree's
wife.  He'd  reached out instinctively and kissed her.  McCoy had
accused him of being susceptible to her will, but the only time he'd
really been under her  influence was when she'd mesmerized him with
those strange herbs.  They'd almost both been killed by a mugatu, and
then she'd crowned him with that rock and stolen his phaser. His head
still hurt.  He felt sympathy for Tyree in his grief over her death,
but he suspected that, if she'd lived, she'd have been trouble for
Tyree the rest of his life.

Jim smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile and lied to his first
officer and lover.  "I'm okay, too."  He wanted - and needed - a few
moments alone with Spock, but he doubted that a few minutes would
come close to being adequate.  No, he needed to meet with his
officers first.  Needed to plan for sending down the flintlocks and
the officers to train Tyree's people to use them.

The debriefing was sheer torment for Jim.  McCoy continued to be vocal
in his criticism of the choice that Jim made.  Jim didn't argue.  He
also blamed himself for handling the whole mission badly.  Hell, it
had been an absolute disaster.

If Jim were in front of a review board...  He should say *when* rather
than *if* - McCoy's report would see to that.  Jim would argue that
the Klingons had violated the Prime Directive first.  His actions had
been necessary to protect Tyree's people.  He wasn't happy about what
he'd done, but, given the  same circumstances, he would make the same
choice again.

Jim didn't believe in a 'no win' situation, but it was entirely
possible that he'd just stumbled across the closest thing he'd ever
seen to one.

Jim was tired, he had a headache, and he was discouraged.  Right now,
he truly didn't care if he drew a court martial for his actions.
Right now he wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep for a week.

When the meeting was over, everyone began to file out.  McCoy paused
for a moment but Jim didn't look up to catch his eye, so he left with
the rest, suspecting - and not entirely incorrectly - that his anger
at the debriefing had pushed Jim too far this time.

Jim and Spock sat side by side, pretending to review the logs.  Jim
broke the silence.  "I missed you."

"Yes, I regret that I was not available to you."

Jim leaned back in his chair.  "I could have used your advice.  I
didn't do so well without you."

"Are you so certain that I would have been able to give you the advice
that would have prevented..."  Spock stopped, and Jim suspected that
Spock didn't want to add to McCoy's condemnation of his actions by
saying the words.

"Go ahead.  Say it.  'Prevented the disaster'?"

Spock steepled his fingers in front of him on the table.  "On another
occasion, you told me that sometimes it was effective to give yourself
some time to absorb."

"Absorb?"  Jim shook his head.  "Sometimes, there's no time to
absorb." He stood up and paced the room.  He returned to stand behind
Spock's chair, but he didn't touch him.  "Spock, I want...I have to
complete my log and draw up a plan for the training, but maybe
later...There's so much that I have to tell you, but I just don't
know where to start"

Spock didn't turn to look at him.  His voice was a gentle caress.
"Tomorrow will be soon enough for everything that must be done.
First, you must rest.   Jim, let me help."

Jim thought suddenly of Edith Keeler, with whom he had fallen in love
when he barely knew her; she had said the same thing to him, and he
had told her that it was preferable to saying, 'I love you.'

"Spock, how do you always know the right thing to say?"

"T'hy'la.  I know that you are tired," Spock said.  "I ask for nothing
more than to hold you."

Jim closed his eyes.  "Yes."

---

In fact, all they did *was* hold each other.  They undressed and slid
under the covers together, exhaustion and discouragement seeping from
Jim's mind:  something Spock had not felt in a long time.  "Sleep now,
Jim."  And, surprisingly, Jim obeyed without a word.

Spock held him for a long time, listening to his steady breathing.  He
wished to slide gently into Jim's mind, but found that he did not
quite dare.  After several minutes, he kissed his temple, reassured
himself that Jim would sleep for several hours yet, dressed, and
slipped out of the room.

M'Benga was not in the Sickbay, but the duty nurse offered to call
him.  Spock was deciding whether it was important enough to disturb
him when McCoy walked through.

"Spock, fancy seeing you here.  I thought you'd had enough of this
place when you were laid up."

"I am not here as a patient.  I am here for advice."

McCoy crooked a finger, and Spock surprised himself by following the
doctor into his office.  They remained silent as McCoy poured two
fingers of scotch into two glasses and offered one to Spock.  Spock
further surprised himself by accepting and imitating McCoy in tossing
it back in one gulp.

"I thought that you'd be with Jim."

Spock nodded.  "I was.  I stayed with him until I was certain that he
would sleep."  Spock looked down at the glass in his hand.  "You were
unnecessarily hard on him."

"Was I?  You weren't down there when he made the decision to supply
Tyree's people with weapons and to escalate the bush war with the
Klingons."  McCoy dropped into his chair.

"No, I regret that I was not."  Spock also seated himself.  "And what
advice did you give him that he chose to disregard when he decided to
escalate the  war?"

McCoy snorted.  "I never said I had all the answers."

"Perhaps you will forgive him for an occasional lapse."

"Comes with the territory."  McCoy crossed his arms.  "He's the one
who portrays himself as the all-knowing starship captain.  He'd tell
you himself that he can't afford to be wrong.  Ever.  He has too much
power - too much potential to do a lot of damage."  McCoy turned to
grasp the bottle of scotch  again, but then appeared to decide against
a second drink.  He was still turned away when he said, "Besides,
you're only defending him now because you happen to be in love with
him."

Spock lifted an eyebrow.  "Perhaps you are only attacking him because
you feel the same way." He stood up.  "If you will excuse me, Doctor,
it was actually my intention to seek Dr. M'Benga's advice."

---

For a moment, McCoy found that he was having difficulty breathing.
Well, there wasn't any oxygen nearby, so he took the next best thing.
He slopped another shot of scotch in the glass, and he tossed it
back.  The burning in  his throat and the heat traveling down his
chest calmed him somehow.  When he looked up again, he realized that
Spock had paused at the door and turned around.

"Doctor, I regret my words."

McCoy looked up in astonishment.  "What?  You're apologizing?"  For
which part, he wondered, but he didn't say it.

Spock walked back to the desk and stood with his hands behind his
back.  "I am not apologizing.  I merely said that I regretted my
words."  He took a  deep breath.  "I was wrong to object to your
criticism of his actions.  It is, of course, your duty as his advisor
to speak out against the actions that you considered to be
ill-chosen."

Spock re-seated himself and met McCoy's eyes calmly.  "If you are
correct -  if I am allowing myself to be influenced by my feelings for
him - I cannot serve him as the first officer that he requires.  I do
not wish to leave him, but I wish even less to fail him as that first
officer."

McCoy had a moment of panic - if Spock was thinking about
leaving...well, who knows what the after-effects of the healing
trance were.  Neither Jim nor Spock looked like they had quite
recovered today at the briefing.  It was up to McCoy to keep them
from doing something stupid.

McCoy half-stood up.  "No, of course not, Spock.  Don't even think
about leaving.  He would never - "

"Forgive you?  You are wrong.  He is your friend.  He will forgive you
anything.  Particularly since you are doing your duty, and I have
failed to do mine."

Sitting down again, McCoy leaned back in his chair.  Spock looked
miserable.  Maybe he wasn't as recovered as M'Benga seemed to think
he was.  Or was it  guilt?  For not being available to advise Jim on
the planet?  Of course, it wasn't his fault for being wounded, but
that wouldn't stop Spock from feeling guilty. Was it guilt for that
other thing?  He and M'Benga had talked about why Jim had looked so
terrible after Spock was wounded.  A pair of fools is what they were
for even daring to love each other.  He really should be angry with
both of them for not warning him that if one of them was hurt, the
other one would be affected.  McCoy stopped and looked at Spock with
fresh sympathy.

"Spock, I've known you and Jim long enough to know that you both put
duty  before everything else.  I *know* that you had a logical reason
for being annoyed with me.  And it's not just because I wounded Jim
by being so vocal in my criticism.  We both know that I *always* do
that, and Jim always gets over it."

"Your criticism is valid.  He *did* violate the Prime Directive.  The
court-martial review board -"

"What are you talking about?"  McCoy jumped to his feet and leaned
over to glare at Spock.

Spock lifted an eyebrow at McCoy, but there was no other movement in
his body  when he said, "They will have no choice.  When they review
your report - "

"Dammit, Spock, I don't want him court-martialled.  I just want him to
think about his actions.  I'm not happy about what he did, but he's
still a whole helluva lot better than any other Starfleet officer
that I've ever come across.  At least he did something.  Can you
imagine what someone like Matt Decker would've done in a situation
like this?"

Spock shook his head slowly.  "No, I cannot.  I did not know Commodore
Decker well enough that I could speculate."

Spock's calmness was driving McCoy crazy.  He actually preferred the
smolderingly angry Vulcan who had sat across from him a few minutes
ago and accused McCoy of...well, he wasn't going to think about
*that.*

"He probably would've done just what I thought Jim was going to do at
first.  Gone by the book.  Taken the evidence to Starfleet and by the
time the diplomats had chewed over it good and proper, the villagers
would've already killed all of Tyree's people."  McCoy rubbed a hand
across his forehead.  "Hard to say now which option would've saved
more lives, huh?"  McCoy contemplated his empty glass.  "So, what are
we gonna do?"

Spock tilted his head slightly.  "We, Doctor?"

He was so eager to *do something* that McCoy found himself bouncing on
the  balls of his feet.  "C'mon, Spock, you've got to have some idea.
You've always full of ideas."

"I doubt that there is anything that I can do.  I was not a witness to
- "

"Well, I was.  So what you're saying is that I need to change my
report?"

Spock suddenly looked a little 'green around the gills.'  "Certainly
not,  Doctor.  I would never recommend that you falsify a log entry.
The mere suggestion - "

McCoy waved his hand in annoyance - Spock was practically sputtering
with confusion.  "No, that's not what I meant.  If you read my
report, all I do is talk about what Jim did wrong."

"I did read your report."  There wasn't any reproach in Spock's voice.
It was just a statement of fact.

"Hell, Spock, like you said before, I didn't have any bright ideas.
And I didn't talk about how hard he tried to come up with another
solution.  If I  had looked at it logically - "

"Which is something that I would never expect in one of your reports."

"Now wait a minute, you green-blooded..." But when McCoy looked at
Spock, he saw a twinkle beginning to show in the dark eyes.  Damn,
Spock got him every time.  McCoy let himself smile as he perched on
the edge of his desk.  "Thank  you, Spock."

Spock's expression was once again unreadable.  "Specify?"

"For reminding me that the three of us are still on the same side."

Spock stood up slowly.  "I trust that you will not forget that fact
again."  He paused a moment.  "May I suggest that we - you and I -
hold our own 'court  martial review board' of the captain tomorrow?"

McCoy found himself grinning.  "You mean scare the hell out of him?
Make him explain himself?  Maybe it'll make 'Captain Impetuous' think
twice next time he gets himself into one of these situations."

"We can hope for that particular result.  If nothing else, he will be
better prepared to face the real board."

"Don't worry about that, Spock.  I'll rewrite my report, so he'll come
out smelling like a rose."  McCoy impulsively stuck out his hand.  "I
like the way you think."

Spock seemed to hesitate before he gripped McCoy's hand briefly.
"Perhaps you will agree that will also remain between the two of us."

---

Jim woke up when Spock slid back into the bed.  "Where'd you go?  I
missed you."

Spock wrapped one arm around Jim's waist to pull him close.  "I missed
you as well."

For a moment, Spock thought that Jim had fallen asleep again, his head
resting on Spock's chest, but then, without lifting his head, Jim
said, "You scared the hell out of me."

"When I was wounded?"

"Yes.  But then I found out that wasn't the worst of if."

"I regret the pain that I caused you.  I did not anticipate that you
would be adversely affected - "

"From what M'Benga told me, you should have known."  If it was an
accusation, it was delivered in the mildest voice possible for an
accusation.

"I hoped that we would be spared this."

Jim sighed softly.  "It seems like you said that about pon farr.  What
other surprises do you have in store for me?" He rubbed his cheek
against Spock's collarbone to show that there was no resentment
intended in the question.

"So little is known about Vulcan-Terran hybrids."

"Then it looks like we're going to have to become the experts."  Jim
kissed Spock's mouth swiftly.  "I love you."

"Yes, I know.  However..."

"There is no 'however.'  I thought for a while that there was, but I
realized that there had to be a way."

"A way?  I am not certain that I know to what you refer."

"Oh, yes, you do."  Jim sat up suddenly and switched on the bedside
lamp.

Spock flinched slightly at the sudden light, but he took Jim's hand in
his own.

Jim interlaced their fingers. "We have to be careful how we do this or
we can't do it at all.  If you're hurt, I have to be functional.  If
I'm hurt, you have to be functional.  What would have happened if you
had died?"

"I do not know."

"Liar."  Inexplicably, Jim's voice indicated affectionate amusement.
"M'Benga told me.  You and I have a death bond.  If you had died, I
would have died, too.  Maybe not right away but pretty soon after."

Spock found that as much as he wanted to, he could not turn away from
Jim's intense gaze.  "I regret that we did not discuss this fully
before we formed the bond.  I thought that you understood."

"Don't give me that, Spock.  You know damn well if I had realized the
risks,  I would've said no.  You tried to tell me some of this before,
but I wouldn't listen.  I let myself believe that I knew everything
from the research that I did before we even went to bed together."

"I did not intend - "

"Water under the bridge.  We just have to make it work - break some
rules if we have to.  You know, if you had died, I wouldn't have
wanted to live."  Jim  silenced his protest by pressing a finger to
Spock's lips.  "However - and  there *is* a big 'however' this time -
I'm the captain.  I can't choose death.  And if something happened to
me, command falls to you.  You can't choose death either."

"We must part, it seems."  Spock sat up in the bed, so that their eyes
were level.

"No."  Jim shook his head.  "I told you that there's a way.  What
M'Benga did  - blocking the bond.  If we do that - when we're in a
dangerous situation -  we'll be okay otherwise."

"There is still the risk - "

"Risk is our business, remember?"  Jim smiled suddenly.  "Don't you
think it's worth the risk?"

"Yes, for me it is, indeed, worth the risk.  However, it would be
presumptuous to choose for you."

Jim leaned in to brush his lips against Spock's.  "We already chose,
remember?  I'm glad about the choice." Jim kissed the side of Spock's
mouth, his cheek, behind his ear lobe, and the side of his neck.
"M'Benga said that  he could help us, but maybe we don't need him.  If
you can - "

"Perhaps it would be wise to meet with him."

"Yes, but not tonight."  Swiftly, Jim grabbed Spock by the shoulders
and pressed him back onto the bed.  "Tonight..."  He leaned in to
kiss Spock's mouth thoroughly.

Spock's dark eyes met Jim's hazel ones.  "Tonight, I ask you to
fulfill the promise you made to me three nights ago."

"Did you bring the ahn'woon with you?"  Jim's eyes sparkled.

Spock shook his head.  "There is no need to restrain me.  I submit
myself to you gladly."

---

Jim felt a flame lick through him.  Spock looked at him so solemnly
when he  said, 'I submit myself to you gladly.'  With a moan, Jim
plunged his tongue into Spock's mouth.  He felt Spock's cock, hard
and hot, stabbing against his  belly.

His mouth traveled down to Spock's throat, biting gently at his adam's
apple.  He stroked his fingers through the dark hair on Spock's
chest.  His mouth captured the right nipple first and then the left,
and sucked at them greedily.  Spock's right nipple, inexplicably,
tasted better.  He bit down on it, tongued the hard nub, heard a soft
gasp, and felt hot fingers comb through his hair.

His fingers stroked down the flat belly, the muscular sides, and his
hands caught at Spock's hip sockets.  He slowly licked a line between
the two nipples, and then followed the line from the center of the
chest down to the navel.  After dipping just the tip of his tongue
into the navel, he detoured to kiss the skin above Spock's heart, and
rested his cheek there for a minute just to listen to the heartbeat
speed up. He stretched out a finger to gently  touch just the tip of
Spock's cock, and he sucked the drop of precum off his  fingertip.
"God, you taste good."

"Jim."  Spock's voice was half a whisper and half a gasp.  One hand
clutched at the sheet, and the other wrapped around the nape of Jim's
neck.

Jim leaned in closer to stroke two fingers along the underside of
Spock's cock, and press three fingers of his other hand into the
crevice between Spock's buttocks.  When Spock bucked up in response,
his cock was captured in Jim's waiting mouth.

His tongue teased at the head and then slipped down between the double
ridges.  He licked the underside from the base to the tip, and then
licked from the tip back to Spock's belly.  "You taste good," he said
again.

Jim pushed himself back into a sitting position.  "Roll over."

"I would prefer - "

"I want your ass, Spock.  Let me have a good look at it."

Obediently, Spock rolled over. Jim pushed two pillows under Spock's
hips, and positioned Spock's cock against his belly, rubbing the head
gently, coating his fingertips with the precum that seeped out.

He rubbed the moisture around Spock's tight opening and heard another
gasp.  He massaged the muscular buttocks.  "You have the most
gorgeous ass I've ever  seen."

Jim placed kisses on the small of Spock's back, and bit gently into
the right buttock. He wanted to pleasure Spock, wanted to hear him
gasp and moan and see him lose control.  He loved it when Spock lost
control with him.  But  more than that, he wanted to taste him.  He
was literally craving the taste  of Spock's ass.  It surprised him a
little how badly he wanted it.

He'd fucked and been fucked by plenty of men, but he'd never rimmed
anybody before he rimmed Spock.  He hadn't even tried it until Spock
had done it to him first, and it had felt amazing. The first time
Spock's tongue had touched  is prostate, he'd had one of the most
mind-blowing orgasms of his life.  When he'd asked Spock where he'd
learned how to do that, Spock had explained that he'd read about the
sensitivity of the human prostrate gland in an anatomy text.

Jim had been incredibly nervous - and incredibly aroused - the first
time  he'd tried to do the same thing to Spock, and the results had
been...  He  shivered at the recollection.

Now he loved it almost as much as he loved sucking cock.

As he ran his tongue along Spock's crevice, he allowed himself an
inward grin.  He remembered the 15-year old boy who had first gone to
the Academy -  that boy had felt so cocksure because he'd tumbled
plenty of girls in the hayloft.  Then he met Peter at the Academy,
and Peter had taught him the pleasures of bedding a man.  He'd spent
the next 18 years having plenty of recreational sex with both
genders, punctuated by a handful of intense love affairs.

Now he was head-over-heels in love with his first officer.  He'd never
had sex with one of his officers before - he'd had his opinions about
captains who did.  But Spock wasn't just one of his officers.  He
was...Spock.  And this wasn't just a love affair.  They were
bonded...as good as married.  For life.

And, damn, he tasted good.

Spock was writhing under him as Jim licked along the outside and then
slipped his tongue again into the velvet darkness.  Jim's own cock
was throbbing; he rubbed it against Spock's thigh.

"Jim, please.  I want you to fuck me."  Spock's voice was a harsh
whisper, barely audible against the pillow.  "If you keep doing what
you are doing, I will come and - "

"Then you'll take a deep breath, wait two seconds, and get hard
again."  Jim  chuckled before he kissed the inside of Spock's right
thigh.  But he sat up on his heels.  "Okay, one fuck coming up."

Spock was coated with Jim's saliva, but Jim wasn't taking any chances
of hurting him.  He found the tube of lubricant and coated his cock.
"Get ready for the best fuck of your life."

"Yes.  Each time is more pleasurable than the last."

Jim grinned and positioned the head of his cock at Spock's opening.
"Flattery.  Flattery."  He pushed gently at first, but Spock, who had
been sprawled on his stomach, came up onto his knees and lunged back
to take in Jim's entire cock with one stroke.

Gasping at the pleasure that shot from his cock to radiate out to his
entire body, Jim leaned forward to nip at Spock's shoulder.

"Relax, Spock.  Who's running the show here?"

"T'hy'la, it is thee.  And I am yours.  Always."

Jim's grin widened.  He was all set to fuck Spock, and Spock was
practically repeating his wedding vows.  Damn, he loved being
*married* to a Vulcan.  Such an intriguing mix of reserve and
reticence and....sweet, hot passion.

Jim placed his hands firmly on Spock's hip sockets.  He pulled himself
most of the way out, and then slowly - oh, so slowly - pushed his
cock all the way back in.  There was no resistance - just a shudder,
a tremor under his hands.  And a long, low moan of sheer (illogical,
Jim thought with another grin) pleasure.

He repeated the action again and again.  Most of the way out.  And
then the achingly slow re-entry.

He wrapped one of his hands around Spock's cock.  Spock gasped out his
name  again.  "Jim."

Jim left a bite on the back of Spock's neck that his uniform collar
wouldn't completely cover.  "Spock, I'm almost there.  Are you with
me?"

"I am."

Wedding vows.  Jim practically laughed with sheer delight.  Then he
began to fuck in earnest.  They were both sweating like crazy, and
moaning like madmen.

Spock put a hand forward to brace himself, and wrapped the other
around to squeeze Jim's left buttock.

Jim felt the sweet madness build up inside of him, felt the hot walls
of Spock's body enclosing him, felt the incredible friction on his
cock.

"Spock!"  Jim shouted out his name as he poured his seed into him.

"Jim!"  And Jim had a handful of Spock's seed.

They collapsed on the bed.  For a few minutes, they lay still, Jim
sprawled on top of Spock, speechless, motionless, and neither really
caring about anything but the slow thud of each other's hearts, which
they could both feel...just barely.

After a time, Jim rolled free, and they lay side-by-side, hands
clasped, staring at the ceiling.

"Our bond - "

"It's still blocked, isn't it, Spock?"

"Yes."

"Sorry, I meant to open up to you, but - "

Spock rolled over to silence him with a kiss.  Then he said, "It does
not  matter.  It gives me pleasure to be loved by you by any method."

Jim grinned up at him, stroking back the dark, silky hair.  "So you'd
be perfectly happy without the bond?  Just fucking me the
old-fashioned way?"

"On occasion."

Jim laughed.  "I know.  I like it both ways, too.  When you're inside
my  brain and when you're outside.  When we're fucking and when we're
playing chess."

"Yes."  Spock suddenly looked exhausted.

"Lie down before you fall down," Jim said, remembering that Spock
hadn't been out of Sickbay all that long - and guiltily remembering
that he'd never ask the doctor whether it was safe to resume sexual
relations.  He cradled  Spock's head against his chest.  "Tomorrow, we
go see M'Benga.  I miss our bond."

Jim expected a reminder that the bond was still there.  Merely
blocked.  But Spock was already asleep.  Jim tightened his arms
around his lover, and gently kissed Spock's temple.

"Good night, Spock.  I love you."  He didn't expect an answer, and he
didn't get one.

---

The End