The BLTS Archive - The Sock Strikes Back by T'Rhys --- DISCLAIMER: This is an original work of amateur fiction not intended to infringe on the copyrights of Paramount or any other legal holders of Star Trek licenses. Author's copyright extends only to the story and those elements not owned by Paramount, et al. Originally published in "Off The Wall Too", Firetrine Press, 1993 Copyright 1997 by T'Rhys. Archiving permitted, no paper reprints or professional media display allowed without permission of the author. Rated [NC-17] for homoerotic displays of non-violent affection (just in case anyone wants to filter out any positive emotional content as well). This is sort of a sequel to another story, "Half the Fun", which was published in Off the Wall #1. I didn't write "Half the Fun", so I can't post it or distribute it privately. Sorry. This story does stand on its own, however. Please retain all headers and disclaimers intact. --- Captain James T. Kirk stood in his morning shower looking down at himself with some perplexity. "Great. How am I going to hold him to his promise *now*?" The night before had seen the start of what promised to be a thoroughly satisfying relationship between himself and his Vulcan first officer, thanks to Human/Vulcan impatience and ingenuity. Spock hadn't exactly liked the semi-public nature of their first time together, and had promised to make sex with him interesting enough so that he, Kirk, wouldn't need such 'dangerous' liaisons once they returned to the ship. Since their duty shifts had conflicted last night, Kirk had decided to start collecting on that promise tonight -- except that he seemed to have developed a problem. An itchy one. "If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd somehow gotten into something like poison ivy," he mumbled irritably, inspecting the pink area on his slightly sore cock. "Ow! This sure doesn't feel like that, though. More like I got chafed -- Oh, of course, the sock!" He straightened up, letting out his breath in a sigh of relief. "Must have been more scratchy than we thought. Well, can't do what I was planning to do to him. Guess he'll just have to do it to me!" Cheered by the prospect, he finished getting dressed for his shift and exited his quarters, anticipating both breakfast and bedtime. --- In the next cabin, a certain Vulcan was having a similar problem. /A direct result of your having been unable to control/, his Vulcan half reprimanded. /Shut up/, the human half snarled back. /I didn't hear any objections from YOU at the time!/ Spock, deciding meditation wasn't going to help much, left them to fight it out in the privacy of his subconscious, and eyed the source of his discomfort. It looked irritated and felt worse. It was definitely out of commission. He sighed and considered registering a complaint with Starfleet regarding the abrasiveness of standard issue stocking material... /Why?/ his mind-voice snickered, /Were you planning to repeat...?/ Spock strangled it viciously and instead tried to decide what he was going to do about tonight as he finished dressing. Clearly, the activity he'd had in mind would have to wait a few days. He suspected that wouldn't go over at all well with his soon-to-be lover. He didn't like it much, himself. /No reason HE can't do it to YOU, is there?/ his mind asked helpfully, bringing him up short halfway out his door. He considered that rapidly, and felt his spirits lift. /None whatever/, he agreed as he resumed course toward the nearest turbolift, completely unaware that he was again 'glowing'. --- Shift end came as a welcome relief to the two, who had spent most of the day on edge with anticipation. It had made work difficult. They were no sooner through the door of their quarters than they flew into one another's arms and into bed, lips devouring one another passionately, fingers fumbling in their haste to undress. Strong bodies moved, almost perfectly synchronized, to recline invitingly as eager hands urged each other into position. It might have worked if at least one of them had been trying to dominate. The kiss ended abruptly as they lost their grip on each other and tumbled neatly off opposite sides of the narrow bed. "Oof! What the --- Spock?" Puzzled Human eyes met equally confused Vulcan ones across the slightly rumpled bedclothes. Kirk started to smile as comprehension dawned. "Looks like we kind of got our cables crossed there," he chuckled, picking himself up off the floor and giving Spock a hand up on his side. "I've been wanting to give myself to you so much all day that I just didn't ---" Spock's apologetic headshake stopped him. "What is it?" "You will have to... make love... to me if we are to indulge tonight. I am somewhat... abraded... in a most uncomfortable location." "Uh oh. Not you, too? That's why I wanted you to --- uh --- How bad is it?" A visual inspection revealed identical -- except for color -- irritations, and some cautious exploration quickly convinced them that they were indeed too sensitive to continue. "Damn." Kirk slumped in disappointment, then grinned wryly. "I guess that stunt with the sock did us both in, huh?" A few days before, while planetside on a landing party, their affair had begun rather unexpectedly in a sleeping bag. Due to the limited privacy, with other members of the landing party a bit too close by for comfort, they had hit upon the idea of using one of their socks to absorb the results of the impetuous lovemaking. It had seemed like a good idea at the time... "Indeed, it would appear so," replied Spock. "Although it did serve its purpose of containment quite well, the... friction... appears to have caused an epidermal irritation. Perhaps we would be well advised to postpone any activity for a few days..." "Yeah, I guess so. Stay with me tonight though? I want to hold you, even if we can't do anything else..." "Of course, Jim. Tonight and any other you wish." --- A few days later, it became evident that 'matters' had not improved much. "Spock, this is getting out of hand. We're going to HAVE to go see Bones." Seeing Spock's expression, Kirk hurried on. "Well, it hasn't gotten any better, has it? We haven't been able to be together since that night on the planet, and I don't know about you, but if the frustration doesn't kill me, the itching will!" Spock studied the deck, frowning. "It has proven most annoying..." he conceded, then looked up a bit defiantly. "... On BOTH counts." --- McCoy was surprisingly civil, examining them each in turn, then treating them without comment. They had just dressed and were about to make their escape when the doctor abruptly turned. "Hold it right there, you two." They froze in mid-flight, shifting nervously like a pair of guilty school kids, as he strolled casually between them and the door. "I've gotten you both out of some pretty odd scrapes without askin' too many nosy question," he grinned. "Mostly you, Jim-boy, though ya can't beat Spock here for sheer inventiveness." "Anyways..." He paused, eyes twinkling in speculative, fiendish glee, "Nobody's goin' anywhere until one of you tells me EXACTLY how y'all got yourselves a case of Athletes Foot *there*!" --- The End