The BLTS Archive- Intermezzo
by Lyrastar (watergal@liquidfic.net)

---

Please let me know what you think.

Disclaimer:  The characters and all things Trek are the property of
Paramount/Viacom.  No money is being made here.  I sincerely doubt
they would want this one anyway!

Challenge:  Written in answer to Hypatia's challenge to write the
above threesome in a plausible context with Chapel as a serious
character.

Notes:  Set between the teaser and episode proper of For the World is
Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky.   There is no time frame specified
between teaser and episode, so I am calling this canon all the way.
Many thanks to Sara for beta reading above and beyond the call of
duty.

---

Jim sat bolt upright in bed.  His forehead was clammy, his heart
beating ridiculously fast.  Disoriented in the dim light, he pressed
his head between sweaty palms and tried to focus.  Slowly but surely,
dream separated from reality and his breathing slowed.

"Jim?"  Spock inquired.  He had moved from the desk to sit beside his
t'hy'la on their bed.  He sat precariously close, by careful restraint
not touching Jim in his turmoil, leaving that choice to the human.

Jim edged a little farther away and flopped backwards onto the
pillows.  "Sorry," he said ruefully.  "Just one of those things."  He
wiped his brow and turned into Spock's concerned gaze.  "Have you ever
had a dream that seemed so real that even after waking, you weren't
sure how things stood?" he said thoughtfully.   "Not been able to tell
what was real and was unreal?"

Spock considered the question and concluded that a direct answer was
not required.  "I understand.  You had a realistic nightmare."

"No," Jim said flatly.  "This was all real."  He swallowed hard and
stalked off to the head.

Bladder emptied and face splashed, he felt immeasurably better.  The
command persona returned and relegated the grief and pain to simmer in
a far corner of his mind.  Later they would be there waiting for him,
still oppressively warm and ominously sweet, but right now he had
other priorities.

When Jim emerged he was again the sunny vibrancy that had blazed
inexorably through the Vulcan's barren soul.  He hopped back onto the
bed, casually displaying himself, buck naked, on top of the covers.
"So," said Kirk, stretching himself shamelessly, "are you just going
to sit there and watch, or are you coming to bed?"

Spock raised an eyebrow.  "While both options have some appeal, I
believe I will avail myself of the latter."  So saying he rose to
strip.  Spock peeled back the covers and slid into bed, tenting the
sheet in invitation.

Grinning, Jim crawled under the covers and curled up on the arm of his
love.  "Good answer," he mumbled into Spock's neck.  Face clear and
serene, Jim settled down as if to sleep.

Spock slipped into a light meditative state, restful yet lingering in
the twilight of percipience.  He noted that despite Jim's evident
distress mere moments ago, the willful human had his formal thoughts
firmly shielded.  The vague empathic emanations of warmth, gratitude
and affection were there, as strong as ever, but there was something
else.  A crying need for reassurance, for something unnamed.  A need
to be with.

"Jim," Spock said to the human not sleeping beside him, "is there
anything you wish to discuss?"

Defeated, Jim gave up the pretense.  "Yes," he sighed, "but I can't."
He felt Spock tense almost imperceptibly.  "Not by my choice," Jim
hastened to add.  "I promised someone else."  He sighed. "God, I wish
I could talk with you.  I need you right now.  Badly."

"Surely you know that you have me.  Now or at anytime."

"I don't mean physically, exactly.  I don't mean sex.  I just--" He
shook his head.  His voice trailed off.

"Jim, it is my intention to be here for you in any way that may be
salutary.  If you cannot tell me what is distressing you, then I
suggest you simply tell me what it is that you need."

"Life," Jim said.  "I need to feel that life goes on.  That what we
are is real and extant beyond today."  He paused, "Spock, I feel
something cold, like a bitter wind blowing around me, taking my breath
and creeping closer and closer.  I need a buffer...a shield of...life
and warmth and love to keep it at bay."

Spock hugged him close.  The captain of the Enterprise relaxed into
his embrace as naturally as if he had been doing it all his life.  If
he perchance he hadn't, by god, he certainly would for the remainder
of it.

With the back of his hand Spock lightly brushed the beloved cheek, the
chin, the chest.  Jim's breathing grew heavy.   Spock's hand brushed
softly over Jim's stirring genitals.  Delicately he fingered Jim's
testes and tentatively teased the velvety skin around the anus.

"Jim," Spock began in a throaty voice. "What you desire, is that not
also a reasonable description of sexual intimacy?"

Jim chuckled under his breath.  He turned onto his side to wriggle his
now-hard penis into the hollow harbor of Spock's hip.  "Yes," he
smiled, "I would say that it is."

Tenderly then, they loved each other, chasing the cold specter of
death irrevocably from the room.

---

Thirty minutes later, Jim was still awake.  Spock slumbered beside
him, eyes open and fixed sightlessly on the ceiling.  Not wanting to
disturb the Vulcan, Jim rolled out of bed, threw on his uniform and
quietly withdrew from the room.  He wasn't quite sure where he wanted
to go, but he did know the one person he wanted to see--alive.
Decided, he made the turn to McCoy's quarters.

When he pressed the signal for the third time, Kirk realized he no
longer expected an answer.  Were he in, the doctor would answer any
call, any time.  After a brief moment Kirk turned for the nearest
turbolift and went straight to Deck 5.

The captain swooped into sickbay to find it in semi-darkness.  A
feathery figure jumped up from the computer.   "Captain!" Christine
exclaimed in surprise.  "I'm sorry, Sir."  She gestured at her
decidedly non-regulation attire.  She wore some sort of ridiculous
half-caftan that dangled precariously from one shoulder and appeared
to defy the laws of physics to somehow cover the most significant body
parts.  "I couldn't sleep so I came down to do some research.  Do you
need something, Sir?" she asked, doing her best to look professional.

"At ease, nurse.  It's all right.  I was just looking for Dr. McCoy."

She gave him a funny look.  It was more than three hours into his
sleep shift.  But she let it drop.  Certainly he didn't have to
explain that particular problem to her.   "He's not here, Sir.  I
think he was going to Engineering to talk with Technician Chen.  His
son knows Joanna somehow," she added, by way of explanation.

Kirk nodded.  Leonard's daughter.  Progeny.  Continuance.  Life from
life.  "I won't interrupt then.

"Christine," he began hesitantly, "is he all right?  Emotionally, I
mean."

She sighed.  "I think so, Captain, but he's so proud it's hard to
tell.  He won't let anyone in.  If he weren't the man he is I'd call
it denial, but in his case I think it is just plain hard-headedness.
For as many patients as he has comforted through death and life, he
insists on doing this alone.  I just don't understand."

She thumped the desk in frustration.  "And he won't even try to help
himself.  I have to sneak around him to access the bio-comps.  He says
it's pointless and for me to stay out of his business."

"Bio-comps?"  Kirk repeated, startled.  "Why do you need bio-comps?
He said there was no cure?  Is that true or isn't it?"  His snap
sounded much harsher than he had intended.

"Well, there isn't one as of yet," she stressed, "but that isn't the
point.  How often have you known him to give up on any other patient?
But now that it is for himself--"  Her voice trailed off.

She recovered admirably.  "So I had to do something.  I put a call in
to the Putexa clinic where Roger used to work.  They are the premier
research site in the Federation for hematology and immunology.
According to what I am finding, there is a vinsclerotin analogue that
has shown promise in slowing, if not stopping, cell division.

"But Leonard...I mean, Dr. McCoy, won't even talk about it.  He just
talks about 'making things right while there is time'."  She stopped,
visibly distraught, and pressed her palms down flat onto the desk,
pinched her eyes shut.

"Nurse Chapel--" Kirk began quietly.

"No, I'm all right, Captain," she said, straightening.   "I just can't
stand the idea of losing him.  He's the closest thing I have to
family.  I can't stand to see him in pain and I don't think I can let
him go."  She stood facing him with quiet dignity, looking a great
deal more collected than Jim himself felt at this moment.

"I know the feeling," Kirk said.

The grief hung suspended in the air like a physical thing.   Without
warning it dropped heavily over the both of them.  A great gray wet
cloak that smothered, squeezing them tightly together within its
folds.  Breathing was a chore; moving worse.  Motion without action.
Paralyzed force.  Just when Christine thought she would surely
suffocate, it was gone as quickly as it had fallen.  She scrambled
away before it could overtake her again.

Heart still racing, she found herself stopped in front of the
shelving, face to face with one of McCoy's miasmal biospheres.
Fumbling for words, she had lost her way in the conversation.
"Leonard was always fascinated by these," she said to no one in
particular.

"Regulan bloodworms?" Kirk asked incredulously, coming over to stand
behind her.

She grinned, feeling better already.  "No, I think the worms are just
an excuse to keep the tanks here."  She gestured at the murky mixture.
"This one is a microcosm of a haloswamp on Regulus V, but he's got a
dozen more like it in the lab.  Leonard would use any excuse to go
tramping around in swampy bogs and marshes.  He insisted they were
primordial, the root source of life.  He saw the organisms within them
as the beginning of everything.  He used to spend hours studying the
life forms that fed off the decomposing sludge, then track down anyone
who would listen and wax rhapsodic about the miracle of the mire and
the circle of life from death.

"Oh shit!"  She broke off suddenly.

He looked at her in mild alarm.

"Did you hear me, Captain?  I'm talking like he's already dead.  What
in the world is wrong with me?"  She rubbed her forehead and sank back
down into the chair.

Kirk didn't hesitate.  "Nothing that hasn't gone wrong with every
person who has ever loved.  We can't have the joy without the grief.
It...doesn't work that way.  It never has."  His tones were clipped.
It was the voice of the leader, bound by necessity to lead his people
some place he would rather not have them go.

She nodded, comprehending.  "The strange part is, I think it is harder
on you and me than it is on him.  I don't think he really minds dying.
He understands more about the end of life than any of the rest of us
do.  It seems so selfish, but to think about losing him and to have to
face those fears without support is about the loneliest feeling I have
ever known.

"You asked if he was all right.  The funny thing is that I think he
might actually be glad in a way to know what's going to happen.  How
and when things are going to end for him.  It sort of takes away the
fear of the unknown.  Makes it just another, sort of, career change to
be planned for."

Kirk's face was hard.  "No," he said.  "Not one of us is granted that
luxury.  It's a big bad universe out there, nurse, and a year is an
eternity in deep space.  None of us can know what fate has in store
for us.  No one on this ship is promised as much as a year, not as
much as a week.  Not even a day.  Making things right...is a pretty
good rule for all of us.  Coming to a...separate peace.  If we have
any gift to give, any kindness to spread, do it now, for none of us
are promised tomorrow."

"Fatalism isn't much like you, Captain."  She eyed him clinically

"In terms of my ship, no.  I run this ship.  I control what I can, but
in the end man is but a...poor player in this universe.   No matter
how much knowledge we accumulate, what wonders we achieve, how far we
spread, we will never be its master."

"Pretty bleak," she observed.

He never flinched.  Looking straight at her he made no effort to
conceal the grief that would grant him no quarter.  "I am going to
miss him more than anyone can ever know."  He paused.  He seemed about
to add something. But in the end "Goodnight, Miss Chapel," was all he
said.

"Captain!"  She stopped him with the word.  "Did you mean it?

He was in the doorway.  "Yes, of course.  Always," he said, confused.

"No, I mean the part about giving what we can now.  Did you mean it?"

"Of course, always," he repeated.

She stood and walked across the room to meet him.  Without her
regulation boot heels they stood eye to eye with each other, perfectly
level.  Ranks notwithstanding they were to be equals in this.  She
took in his tumid lids, the lines of care, the hair mussed from far
too many sleepless hours.  "You haven't told Mr. Spock?" she guessed.

"No," he said, not following.  "McCoy asked me not to."

"Then," she said, absurdly serene, "please don't misunderstand, but I
don't want to be alone tonight.  If you aren't doing anything else, I
would like you to stay."

"Nurse," Kirk said carefully, just beginning to get the picture,
"please believe me when I tell you that I understand that very well."
He held out his left elbow.  She accepted it willingly.

Unable to hold the moment any longer, his voice took on a too familiar
lilt.  "And, what manner of man could refuse such a fair damsel in
distress?"

But his eyes still said simply, "Thank you."

---

Back in her cabin Christine adjusted the luminosity to just a few
candlepower.  She plopped down on the bed and kicked off her slippers.
Kirk stood at the divider and just looked in.

"Now that we're here, this feels a little awkward," Christine
admitted.

"A little?" Jim snorted.  He paced the length of the bed up, down, and
stopped.  He spread his hands in open entreaty.  "I confess, I have
absolutely no idea what you want me to do."  It was the smile that had
felled countless women before her.  And one half-human man.

She looked at him with an expression that approached pity.  "I don't
think it's that complicated.  I just want to feel good for a while,
know that someone else feels the same way I do and, maybe, find some
rest, some peace of a sort."  She patted the bed beside her.  He sat.

"We don't have to have sex if you don't want to," Christine offered.
His eyes shot to her, clearly bemused.  For the first time in the
conversation she blushed, but her voice held steady.  "I mean, I don't
know...about you and Mr. Spock.  It was my intention to...ease
personal problems, not to cause more."

Kirk scooted closer to her until they were thigh to thigh.   With just
the tips of two fingers he slid the translucent gown off of the one
shoulder that had held it improbably in place.  Utterly focused, he
stroked the creamy skin of her neck, her breast, the tender spot
underneath her arm.  She shuddered involuntarily at the sensation.

"Christine," Jim said.  His eyes were bright, his voice painfully
earnest. "If Spock were the kind of man who would begrudge anyone a
measure of kindness or a modicum of harmless comfort, I assure you, I
wouldn't be married to him."

He brought his hand up to caress her cheek, cup her jaw.  She rubbed
her face luxuriantly against his hand.  Drawn by his strength, she
leaned in to kiss him deeply, reverently.  She probed fiercely with
her tongue as if to reach some hidden core of him.  She stretched a
hand down the green V-neck firmly stroking his smooth chest, moving
down past the waist wrap, down to where the single patch of body hair
began.

Instantly hard, Jim groaned into her mouth.  He pulled back, grabbed
her by the shoulders, distancing them each from the other.
"Christine!"  He struggled for control, ultimately gracing her with a
sheepish smile.  "I think this may be your last chance to change your
mind."

In answer she tugged firmly on the wrap popping it open.  With no
hesitation she peeled the shirt backwards, decisively dissipating the
isolating hold of his hands.

Kirk struggled out of the shirt.  Boots, pants and shorts followed in
short order.  Christine had already shrugged out of the remainder of
the flimsy garment and was appraising his body appreciatively.  Naked,
he knew his power.   He stood before her, an offering and a
supplication.  She opened her arms and invited him in.

He moved his lips methodically as if to cover every square inch of her
skin in kisses.  He repeated her name over and over, the syllables
barely recognizable as they vibrated into her flesh.

"Oh, yes, Captain, yes!"  She sighed and reached down between his legs
to feel his desire for her.

Aching, he spread her legs with his hand.  He felt her sex slick and
wet, ready for him.  With a guttural sound he pushed his face firmly
into her cunt, licking and thrusting into her as she had into him.
With each thrust his nose jarred the hood of her clit sending her
writhing and squirming up the bed.  He grabbed her ass and pulled her
back into his face.  Roughly he sucked her inner lips, running his
tongue in circles around the root of her clit.

"OH!  Captain!  Captain!" she moaned.  With each use of his rank his
dick leaped and pulsed harder.  Suddenly she threw her head back and
went rigid, silent, a look of complete rapture on her face.  Kirk
sucked with all his might.  Her firm thighs bit into his cheeks,
clamping him in place where she needed him.

He didn't stop until she had pushed his face away with her hand.
Laying his cheek against her, he rested momentarily.  He inhaled
deeply, savoring the musky odor.  The rich, ripe female smell of
mother earth.

On fire now, he moved instinctively to relieve himself.   She cuffed
his wrist.  "Oh no, Captain, don't you dare come yet."  She whispered
in his ear, "I want to feel you inside of me."

That was very nearly the end.  His penis began to leak copiously.
Pushed to brink of some critical limit, he grabbed the base of his
dick and squeezed until it hurt.  He made a great terrible noise deep
in his throat and held until his eyes watered.  His balls threatened
to explode right there.  For a moment he didn't care if they did.
Anything for release.

After long seconds, when he thought he might move against the sheet
without immediate orgasm, he slid up to kiss just the tip of her nose.
"Christine," he said with resignation.  "I think, for now, you 'd
better just call me 'Jim'."

When at last he had regained some marginal measure of control, he
positioned himself over her.  "Jim," she said earnestly, "I need to
feel the joys of life.  Please make it last."  At the very thought his
dick leapt again, oozing more sticky seed, threatening not to stop.
He closed his eyes and it stilled momently.

When he opened them again she was looking up at him, a rapt expression
on her face.  "You can feel it too, can't you?  The immanence.  Can
you feel it?"  she asked.  "Can you feel the life force around us?
Isn't it beautiful?"

And then he did.  Kirk's penis deflated just marginally.  As an
afterthought, he maneuvered inside of her, but the violent urgency was
gone as if it had never been.  With wide-eyed wonder Jim began very
slowly to undulate within her.  Taking nothing but time, they clung to
each other rocking and moving to an unheard rhythm all their own.

Some unknown time later Jim felt the mounting tension of her imminent
climax and intensified his strokes.  Her urgency became his.
"Faster...faster...FASTER!" she prodded.  She clamped her muscles
tightly around him pulling him with her down into the spiral of
oblivion.

"SPOCK!"  The unexpected resonance of the single word hung suspended
in the space between them.

After a minute he pushed himself off of her and over onto his back.
"I am sorry," he muttered into the air.  Eyes closed, he felt the
mattress sink down in the middle and then rapidly spring up.

"No, I'm sorry, Captain," he heard her say.  "Maybe this wasn't such a
good idea after all."

He opened his eyes to catch her tying a thick robe tightly around her
waist, her back to him.  She walked past the partition and out to the
anteroom.

"Look," he said sitting up on the edge of the bed, "it doesn't mean
anything.  Yes, I love Spock, but I'm here with you because I want to
be; because we wanted it.  And being with you tonight was wonderful.
Just what I needed.  Just what I still need. "

She had moved to sit behind the desk.  She had effectively separated
herself from him by ten feet of decking, by 30 inches of Durawood, by
one word.

Good going, Jimbo.  Great work.  With a deep breath he got up and
crossed to sit across the desk form her, stark naked, not particularly
caring.

"Christine, listen, I have no idea why I did that."  He placed a hand
on the desk.  Neutral territory.  "But I do know that during orgasm
sometimes people are driven to gut actions that can't be explained or
rationalized--"

To his utter astonishment, she erupted in gales of spontaneous
laughter.  "Captain," she said when she could speak again,  "is that
what you really think?"

"Christine," he said impatiently, "just because I called--"

"No, Captain," she interrupted, "you don't understand at all.  You
might have been thinking it, but--" She paused.  He whole face
changed, contorted.  She bit her lip.   "But it wasn't you who
actually called out.  It was me!"

Jim gaped at her in pure open-mouthed astonishment.

"I am sorry, Sir.   I should have realized that this could happen.  It
's just that I felt so alone.   I so very much wanted to be with
someone who felt the same as I did about Leonard that I wasn't
thinking clearly.  I wanted to be with someone who would miss him as
much as I would; nothing else seemed to matter."

"And nothing else does," Kirk said succinctly.

She reached across the desk and took his hand with gratitude.  "Thank
you," she said.

Kirk squeezed her hand once and released it.  "You don't need to
justify anything to me."  With a conspiratorial wink he added,
"Believe me, I understand...the attraction."  His face was innocence
itself.   "But I am," he chose his word carefully, "...surprised.   I
thought that your...inclinations towards Mr. Spock were a thing of the
past."

She gave him a disdainful look that few mortals would have risked on
the captain of the Enterprise.  "Well of course.  I'm not stupid, you
know," she snapped irritably.  She massaged her temple in fatigue.
"It's just that ever since that day Sargon used me to hide Spock from
Hanoch, I have been having...I don't know, echoes or something.  Some
kind of residual effects.  It's like traces of Spock's consciousness,
or what did he call it?  Katra?  It's like some part of it was left
behind--not really him, but of him.  Like a scent or a fingerprint, or
a silhouette.

"Usually it's not too bad," she hastened to add.  "But sometimes like
tonight, it's like he is right there in my head.   I'm not sure, Sir,
but I think it might be because you and he...  I mean, I love him of
course.  He is an amazing man, a dear friend, and a brother in
uniform.  But not like that, Sir.  If you know what I mean.  I think
that, maybe, something through you might have brought it all up so
intensely tonight.

"I really am sorry," she said for the third time.  "I should have
thought this through better.  I didn't mean to bother you with it."

"Bother me?"  Kirk barked.  "Christine, that was almost a year ago!"

"Yes, Captain, I can tell time."  Sarcasm suited her.

Kirk stared at her incredulously.  "Nurse, how can you let this go on?
Didn't you report it to McCoy?"

Christine gave a short, humorless laugh.  "And have him put me under a
Siggy scan?  You forget, I'm a nurse; I know what Siggy does to your
alpha waves!  No thank you, I'd rather hear voices.

"Besides," she said sounding much like a person trying to convince
herself, "I thought it would go away."

"A year?" Kirk prompted gently.

She had no answer.  She simply lifted her hands in supplication.
"What do you think I should have done, Captain?"

He paused.  "If this started with a mind-meld of sorts, maybe Spock
could undo whatever was done.  Wipe away the fingerprints, chase away
the shadows."

She shook her head firmly.  Jim had to admire her poise.  Not everyone
could pull off quiet dignity in a terry-cloth robe.

"I really don't want anyone to know, " she confessed.  "After Psi
2000, these stupid rumors got started and now people look at me like a
lovesick puppy.  Even you.   My nurses and I bring Medisupp meals to
everyone on the sick call roster.  But if it's Spock, suddenly Plomeek
soup gets transmogrified into a wedding banquet.  I don't need to add
any fuel to that fire."

"You have to admit, it was...dramatic," Kirk recounted.

 She pulled a laugh out of somewhere.  "At least Sulu looked dashing
and running around with a sword.  He gets to go down as d'Artagnan; I
get Quasimodo.  I just can't stomach the idea of bringing all that
back up."

"I could make it an order," Kirk threatened.

"You would order Mr. Spock to enter my mind against my will?"

"I need my crew at top efficiency," he countered, his face a mask.

"You have concerns regarding my efficiency?" she asked, face every bit
as still as his.

Kirk had to concede that this might not have been the right track to
take.   He looked a little deeper within himself.

"Nurse Chapel," he said.  His voice was almost painful with the sudden
raw sincerity. "If someone were hurting...and wouldn't let you help,
what would you do?  How would you feel?"  She opened her mouth.  He
cut her off, shamelessly pressing his advantage.  "How can you ask
that of me?  And what do you think Spock would say if he knew you were
in distress...because of him?  How can you ask either of us to live
with that, nurse?"

He composure broke just a little.  She strummed the table nervously
with her nails.  "I must say Captain, you do have a way with words."

"Mm."  He smiled.  "I think that's why they let me drive a starship."

Then she laughed outright, eyes shining in acknowledgment of their
unspoken pact.

He looked at her chronometer.  "It's late," he said.  "After alpha
shift, then?"  She nodded her assent.

"All right."  He patted her hand and stood back up.  Looking over at
his discarded uniform he seemed to reconsider.  "Spock will be asleep
for the night."  He swaggered just a little.  "Do you think I could
stay?"

"Yes," she said meeting his eyes quietly.  "I would like that."
Taking his hand, she allowed herself to be led back to bed.  The
nursing caduceus glimmered off of the bronze plaque that hung from the
wall.  The text below it read: To cure sometimes.  To comfort always.

---

"Good morning, Florence," he said, nudging her over the threshold into
wakefulness.

"Florence?" she mumbled, not yet willing to surrender the pillow.

"Florence Nightingale: savior of the common soldier," he explained
kissing her shoulder.

That got her attention.  "Captain," she said, sitting up to rub sleep
out of her eyes, "you are hardly common, nor do I think you need a
savior."

"No," he said seriously, "but I did last night."

She chuckled under her breath and started to swing her legs out of the
bed.  He stopped her.  "Hey, where are you going?"

"Sickbay.  We have a 0700 quality control review. "

"Well," he said, not releasing his hold, "then you have some time.
Its not even 0615 yet."

She looked up at his earnest face.  "I really should go.  Leonard will
be there early and I'd like to get him alone--try to get him to talk
to me."  She let out a breath. "And you have to admit, this is
awkward."

"Awkward?  How?"  His face became cherubic.

For once she appeared genuinely discomfited.  "Well...this!"  She
gestured over the bed.  "You, me, his katra--or whatever."  She groped
for words.  "You're the Captain, his husband!  It's a little weird."

He grabbed her by the shoulders, hard enough to hurt.

"Captain--" she protested.

He gripped harder.  "Christine," he said with a burning intensity
usually reserved for moments of life and death.  "There is nothing, I
repeat nothing, weird about two people sharing love.  At no time.
Under no circumstances.  Life is too short, too precious not to use
every allotted moment to its fullest.  And anyone who doesn't
understand that has no place in deep space."

Oblivious to the pressure searing through her shoulders she reassessed
this man.  "Captain, I think words like that are why they let you
drive the Enterprise."  And with a nod, he let her get up and dressed.

*****

Spock was still in their bed as Kirk strode back into their cabin
precisely at 0630.  "Morning," said Kirk cheerfully as he peeled off
his shirt.

"You did not sleep here," observed Spock, rising to greet him with a
kiss.

"No," Jim agreed.  He efficiently divested himself of the rest of his
clothing.  "I was with Christine Chapel."

"Indeed," Spock noted, reaching out to flake a dried bit of something
off of Jim's chest.

Jim had the grace to look abashed.  For a moment.  It didn't last
long.  "She needed someone.  I helped her," he said simply.

"Fascinating," was Spock's only comment.  Only one who knew him
intimately would have dared call that expression amusement.

"I need a shower," said Jim with a chuckle.

"Yes, you do," Spock agreed wholeheartedly.

Whistling, Jim took himself into the head.

He re-emerged a few minutes later in drawstring gym pants.  His hair
was matted to his head in smooth golden ringlets.  Steam still rose
from the broad shoulders as he crossed the room, towel draped around
his neck.  "Better?" he asked, kissing Spock lightly on the forehead.

Spock was fully dressed and seated at the computer.  "Much," Spock
said distractedly.

His first officer turned to him.  "Captain, Paleontology requested the
transfer of Technicians Chin and Singh 12.4 days ago.  They have yet
to hear back.  Botany requisitioned 3.7 kilotonnes of ureoplasm 14.2
days ago and as of yet have not had a response..."

"Spock...Spock," Jim said, sliding in to sit on his knee.  "Can any of
this wait until we are officially on duty?"

"Certainly, but it would be more efficient to--"

"Efficiency is not the primary thing on my mind," said Jim, nuzzling
his neck.  The towel lay abandoned on the deck.  Water still steamed
from his warm skin, rising up to the Vulcan's sensitive nose.  Kirk
rubbed sensuously against the soft velour, acutely aware of the effect
he was having.

When could speak again, Spock's voice was raspy.  "Jim, this is
illogical.  We are expected on the bridge in 22 minutes--"

"Mm," murmured Jim.  "If I don't excite you enough to get you off that
fast--"

"On the contrary.  It is your state that concerns me.  You may well be
depleted as a result of your recent exploits."

"Want to try me?" Kirk challenged as he reached his hand down to the
Vulcan's penis.  Deftly he rolled the velveteen organ around once in
his fingers.  Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away.  He stood and
with one sharp tug released the drawstring at his waist.  The pants
puddled to the deck and Jim stepped cleanly aside, an impish grin
smeared wide across his face.  Kirk was in his glory.

In the manner of one long-practiced, Spock prepared himself deflect
this man's will.  His face smoothed to an impenetrable mask.  There
was no crack, no ripple, no finger hold, no possible point of entry
upon it.  He raised one eyebrow, ready for the inevitable onslaught of
poorly timed lust and illogical desire.

But contrary to his every expectation, it didn't come.  Jim stood
stock-still.  With the familiar raising of that eyebrow, the most
amazing display of expressions played across his face.  The quirky
smile became sheer wonder, then something else entirely.  By the end
Jim's face held such depth of unrestrained affection that it was
almost painful to behold.

Mercifully, Jim looked down.  From the side he bent to wrap damp arms
around the Vulcan's neck and bowed his head until it rested against
the Vulcan's temple. Jim placed on chaste kiss on a pointed ear and
then simply hung on for dear life.   "Spock," the rolling voice
whirled through the Vulcan's ear.  "I love you.  I love you so much
that sometimes I just don't know what to do."

In that fraction of an instant Spock crumbled completely.  He pulled
the warm human into his arms and kissed him thirstily.  Jim responded
gratefully.  He slid hungry hands under the uniform to roam the
Vulcan's chest.  Spock reached down and took Jim's penis in hand,
bringing him to full arousal in less than a minute.

With a gasp, Jim pulled away.  He cupped his own genitals keeping them
working in time with the rhythm building in his pelvis.  "What is it
that you want?" he asked.

"You," Spock answered.  "The exact manner is not important."

Jim smiled widely.  "Then I think you should take off your pants."
With no hesitation, Spock complied.

Stepping out of his trousers, Spock moved to bend over the berth.  Jim
drew a sharp intake of breath at the beauty of the sight.  Spock
reached up to the shelf and palmed a cylinder, then held it out behind
him.  Stroking himself harder, Jim accepted.

With a groan he could not quite stifle, Jim threw himself down to rub
the length of his hairless torso over the glorious curves of Spock's
backside.   The feel of silky flesh gliding over silky flesh was
exquisite.   Had they more time he could spend hours losing himself in
this sensation alone.  But that would be for another day.  He
activated the dispenser and without further ado, sunk himself into the
depths of his love.

Both gasped simultaneously at the intensity.  Recovering, Spock took
his own penis in hand and began to stoke his shaft.  Jim held Spock's
hips and began to move.  "I love you.  I love you.  I love you," Jim
repeated hypnotically, driving himself to ever-greater fervor with
each thrust.

Jim tried to wait for Spock, but it made little difference.  In less
than two minutes it was over for both of them.

Replete, they pulled themselves up and onto the berth.  Jim wrapped
his arms even more tightly around his husband once again astonished at
the perfection of their unity.  He nuzzled one pointed ear.  Picking
his moment, he took the plunge.  "Spock, I need a favor."

Chapel was still plowing through hematology studies when the door
opened behind her.  "Oh, Mr. Spock.  Is there something I can do for
you?  Or, did the Captain send you?"

"Something like that."  Jim brushed brusquely past Spock to stand in
front of her desk.  "Apparently, you two can't be trusted without my
supervision."  His voice hardened.  "You're late, nurse.  Alpha shift
ended two hours ago.  We had a date."

"I've been checking studies in progress.  Canopus VI is so close to an
intervention at the proerythroblast stage--" Her voice trailed off as
she realized her gaff.   "But, of course, you didn't come here to
discuss hematology."

"No," Kirk said,  "In fact, I wasn't planning on coming to sickbay at
all.  Shouldn't we adjourn to someplace...more private?"

"Really, Captain, I'm fine.  You're making a big deal about nothing."
She made as if to sit back down.

"Nurse Chapel," Spock interjected.  "I am told that you possess
something of mine.  I would like it back.  I trust that now is not too
inconvenient?"

Face twitching with bemusement she shook her head at the two of them.
"Does anything ever stand against the two of you?" she wondered.

Kirk gave Spock a sidelong wink of triumph.  "We really don't
recommend it," said Kirk.  Spock shook his head in doleful agreement,
no.

---

To Christine, entering her cabin that night felt like beaming down to
an unmapped planet.  Apparently she was the only one.  The men seemed
as steady as if they were all about to review crew fitness reports.
Why not, she thought.   No one is about to go poking around in the
cobwebs of their minds.

She perched her butt awkwardly on the edge of the desk.  Her
mini-dress folded inward to the very limit of her crotch.  She crossed
one long boot over the other, "Well, now what?" she asked.  To her
dismay, Spock turned upon her with a look that pierced straight
through her being.  "That, Miss Chapel, depends upon you."

"Me?" she ventured tentatively.  "Frankly, I'd like to forget the
whole thing. "

"I believe that is what we are trying to achieve," Spock said, not
entirely without humor.

She laughed nervously.  "That isn't what I meant."

Kirk sat down on the bed to watch.

Spock replied patiently.  "Nurse Chapel, I find your attitude
inexplicable.  For a health care provider to refuse an indicated
medical procedure because it may be uncomfortable, is patently
illogical."

She snorted.  "A cervical cancer screen is uncomfortable!  This--" her
voice trailed off.  Collecting herself, she straightened to face the
Vulcan.  "And I'm not refusing.  I'm just a little afraid."

"Afraid of discomfort?  It is my sole intention to relieve your
discomfort. I do not believe the meld will be unpleasant."

Unexpectedly, she broke into a brilliant smile.  "Neither do I, Mr.
Spock.  I think that is exactly what I am afraid of!"

"That response, nurse, I find even more illogical.  We are united, you
and I, not only through the past blending of our katras, but also, as
is all the crew, through Starfleet and beyond.  Surely time has
adequately proven that more than once.  There is no rational argument
for withholding your mind from mine.  As there is none for me to
constrain mine from you."

She could not quite stifle a short gasp.  Spock reached forward and
lifted her chin with one crooked knuckle.   He said, "And if there is
pleasure to be found in the situation, than that is a serendipitous
benefit as well."

He studied her face as if for the first time.  "There is a halo around
your eyes."  She tried to nod, found her face fixed firmly by his
finger.  She had to make do with her voice.  "They are called rings of
purpose," she said.  "They are supposed to signify something about
one's personality, but I can't remember what."

"Mm," he acknowledged.  Gently, so gently, his hand drifted to the
meld points.

Suddenly she caught his wrists.  "I'm sorry," she said, sounding as
surprised as anyone at her actions.  "I thought I could do this, but
it's just too much.  I'm not sure it will work anyway.  Right now I
can't feel anything in my mind except me."

Spock dropped his hands.  "Nurse," he said coolly, "may I make a
suggestion?  As your perception was most recently strongest through
intimacies with the Captain, and since he seems to be more able to
induce...relaxation, recreating last night's scenario may be the most
expeditious way to proceed."

"Are you suggesting sex?  Now?  With you here?"  She sounded genuinely
surprised, but in no way alarmed.

Spock replied, "Nurse Chapel, it is generally true that the shortest
distance between two points is through a third point.  If you object,
physical sexuality is certainly not necessary.  There are other
techniques of psychic healing which may be employed.  However I
suspect that this may be, by far, the most pleasant option."

Christine studied him openly.  "You don't mind? " she asked.  "The
personal exposure?  The indignity of coping with illogical human
passions?  It's not very Vulcan."

Spock shook his head.  "On the contrary, nurse.  I submit that we
three have already shared mind and bodies in such a way that there is
little remaining privacy to lose.  The shame would be in my failure to
follow the logical course of action solely on the basis of a baseless
concern for propriety."

She still looked skeptical.  "And," Spock added, "I came to help.  I
would be very much like to do so."

Grinning, Kirk moved in behind her and wrapped his arms around her
waist.  "Trust him," he said into her ear, but looking straight at
Spock.  "He knows what he's doing."

"You know," she said for lack of a better response, "no one will ever
believe this."

"That's the breaks," Kirk said.

He pulled her gently back towards the berth until his knees buckled
against the edge.  Willingly, she went with him.  He slid back to
recline against the headshelf and pulled her gently after him to
nestle against his chest.  He rested one hand on her stomach and very
lightly let his fingertips dance over the fabric sheathing her waist
and belly.  His other hand caressed her bare thigh, kneading it
methodically.  She closed her eyes and concentrated on nothing but the
rise and fall of his chest, the feel of his hands, the moisture of his
breath on her neck.

Spock trailed them into the bedroom.  He stood before them, "If you
are ready, Miss Chapel."  Kirk clamped her wrists securely with one
hand and pressed them tightly against her thigh.  Eyes still closed,
she nodded her assent.

His right hand molded itself to her face.  "Our minds are moving
closer--closer.  Our thoughts are becoming one thought.  Our beings,
one being."  His voice was hypnotic.  Christine shifted against Jim's
crotch grinding roughly against his sex with her ass.  He forced their
joined hands into her thigh, hard, and her movements stilled leaving
her pressed tightly against him.

Spock shifted one finger and Christine let out a groan.  Kirk let
loose her wrists to slide his hand up and underneath her panty
stroking her rhythmically.  She pressed back hard against his chest
compelling Spock to lean in after them.

"Yes, yes," she murmured in tempo.  "But he's not here."  She kept her
eyes squeezed tightly closed.  Kirk waltzed his other hand up from her
belly to cup her breasts, still massaging lightly.  "He's just not
here!" she repeated more urgently.

Spock lightened the mindtouch momentarily.  She furrowed her brow and
tried to explain.  "It's like trying to focus on something you can
only see out of the corner of your eye.  Every time I turn to look it
vanishes.  It is so close, but right where I never can, never will
catch it.  It is so frustrating!  Last night it was all so clear.  I
just don't know how I can get him any closer."  Nonplused, she shook
her head.

With a quirky slant of his mouth, Kirk looked up at his husband.  He
took in the aesthetic features, the lean lines, the familiar hips, the
ripening crotch.  He reached out and stroked the Vulcan's inner leg.
"Let's see if we can't get him more involved," he said seductively.
With a rueful smile that was not quite an apology, he shifted his palm
up to cup the Vulcan's rapidly engorging penis and softly he began to
knead.

Spock's eyes rolled back in his head.  His entire body was taut with
strain. Christine rocked sensuously, her pelvis rebounding between
Jim's hard sex and his harder fingers, her head rolling between
Spock's hot hand and the pulsing hollow of Jim's neck.  Jim's eyes
burned in hot intensity, victory in sight.

"Oh yes, that's better.  Oh, yes.  Yes, yes, yes!" called Christine.
"Oh, yes!"

Suddenly, "NO!"  Her body bucked violently.  Her body cringed as if in
pain.  Kirk's arms curled around her reflexively.  Spock took a step
back, dazed.

Blinking, Kirk came back to himself.  "What happened?" he asked.

Christine stayed curled, supported by his arms, collecting her breath.
Clearing his throat, Spock answered.  "I could no longer control the
meld," he said.  "The additional physical input was a...significant
distraction."  He eyed Jim in mild reproof.

"Just trying to help," Jim volunteered.  "Nurse, are you all right?"

"Fine, Captain," she said, the color coming back into her face.  "That
was just...a little disappointing."  Spock raised both eyebrows.  Jim
grinned.

"Okay," Jim said. "Let's try again.  This time no...distractions."
Spock eyed him significantly.  Jim managed to look a little contrite.
Then he shrugged it off with an angelic grin.  Spock forgave him
everything.  How could he ever do otherwise?

Spock said, "Christine, if you please."

Christine searched his face.  It was the impenetrable mask of Vulcan.
But his eyes told a different story.  Willingly she bowed her head to
meet his fingers.

Kirk focused just his thoughts on the Vulcan's body.  His fingers
stroked the swollen roots of Christine's clitoral nub, skated over the
tender place between leg and pelvis.  He was touching her, but
thinking of Spock touching him.  Touching her, but watching Spock's
penis jerk against the taut fabric, feeling Spock's hand on her
temple.  Touching her, but feeling him under his fingers.  Somehow,
through their marriage bond and the mindlink they were one,

Christine groaned.  "Yes," Spock said slowly, "yes."  His right hand
remained frozen upon her face.  His left hand moved to her right.  He
picked it up and placed it squarely on the bulge in his groin.

They gave a collective groan of satisfaction.  Her world contracted to
the feel of Spock's erection in her hand and he heat of his breath on
her face.  Something in her mind cried for the sweet familiar feel of
Spock deep inside of her, a feeling her body had never known.  Not
sure whether she was feeling Jim's urgency or her own, she clumsily
unclipped the fastenings of Spock's trousers.   Jim gasped in relief
when the Vulcan's cock sprang free.

Feeling the ache in Christine's body and soul, Jim worked his fingers
inside of her and felt her respond, clutching at him, pulling him more
deeply inside.  He bared his own sex and rhythmically pushed both
their bodies to ever-greater heights of desire.

Christine almost came undone when she finally had Spock's lean cock in
her hand.  With a hoarse cry she worked it tenderly, feeling the
resonance of the men's love somewhere deep within herself.  Kirk felt
it too and rocked his hips in empty desperation.   Inarticulate now,
he ripped her panty out of the way and he wedged his bulge in between
her round cheeks.   Through the mystery of their union Jim sent a
silent plea for the succor of his lover.  A plea that no part of Spock
could ever do anything but answer.

Helpless in the tidal pull of the humans' emotions Spock was sucked
relentlessly into the swell. He dropped his free hand down behind
Christine and with inhuman strength pulled her up to her feet, away
from Kirk.  She went eagerly. With the brief ripped open, her torn
uniform rose up around her chest and bunched under her breasts.  With
a thrust of his pelvis he forced his penis against her yielding belly
to assuage the need that burned hot among the three of them.  Tense
with their combined desires, Spock dug his fingers into the curve of
her ass.

Jim felt it too, the infinitesimal relief that then only caused the
fire to burn hotter.  He stroked himself feeling every movement, every
touch of Vulcan man against human woman.  He thought in passing that
this might well drive him mad.

Christine writhed against Spock undulating greedily against his penis.
When she felt the first strands of slick stickiness slide between then
she could take it no more. She threw her arms around his neck and her
legs around his waist, trusting herself to his strength.

With a strangled cry he lifted her one-handed under the ass and held
her tight, his penis trapped between their bodies.  With a backward
tilt of her pelvis and a push of her thighs against his hips she
maneuvered herself over the tip.  Almost sobbing with relief, she
lowered herself down onto him.

All three cried out as one.  Guiding her with his hand, Spock had her.
She had Spock.  They were one.  Their world exploded.  And then they
fell apart.

Spock collapsed to his knees.  Christine fell to the bed shaking in
wonder, dizzy with the discovery of what a full union could be.

But Jim was still on fire.  He pushed one leg up against the Vulcan,
reveling in the simple contact.  With his right hand he pumped himself
frantically.  Kirk's face was pinched, his body quivered
uncontrollably.  The rhythmic stroking of hand on shaft was rapidly
become more agony than ecstasy.

"Maybe I should go," Christine offered.

Spock said, regarding her evenly, "Do you think so, Christine?  It is,
after all, your own bed."

So be it.  She cradled Jim's left side with her body, leaving plenty
of room for his right hand to continue its task.  Her crotch nestled
tightly against his hip. The torn fabric tickled her crack.  Her head
sagged to his chest.  Fervently she raked her nails over the sinuous
rills of his twitching torso. One arm locked around her, he pulled her
ever more tightly against himself taking her breath away.  With a
whimper she bit down on his muscled chest.  He froze with the shock,
his breath one ragged draw.  Tenderly she inched her lips forward to
his nipple and sucked rhythmically, giving and taking in turn.

Reeling with desire, Jim reached his right hand out to Spock.  "I
could use some help here," he choked beseechingly.

Spock kneeled against the bed, head propped on one elbow, trousers
already re-zipped, and tunic already smoothed.  He regarded them with
almost scientific interest.   "Indeed, Jim?  You appear to be managing
quite nicely."  But his voice was far thicker than usual.

The plangent tones of Spock's desire torqued the ache in Jim's balls
to an unbearable tension.  His face screwed into the very image of
pain itself.  "Spock," he implored, "don't make me beg."

Only Jim Kirk could be so brazen.  Spock crawled up onto the bunk and
with a shudder swept one strong hand up Jim's thigh and dug his
fingers firmly into the tender flesh.  He fell face first into Jim's
groin, easily engulfing the whole of the turgid shaft with his mouth.

Jim was dissolving rapidly.  With one fluid motion Spock dragged one
long finger through the length of Christine's dripping crotch and
rammed it up Jim's ass.  Jim came with a force that would have blown
apart a planet.

Enervated and replete, all three lay puddled on the bed.  Jim had one
arm wrapped casually around each of them.   Out of nowhere his belly
began to quicken in ripples and a low chuckle rose up in his throat.

Curious, Spock raised his head just a little to search Jim's face.
Indolently Jim lifted one heavy eyelid to survey the two officers
nodding on his chest.  "Nurse Chapel," he said, "you are absolutely
right.  This is most definitely a little weird!"

---

Hours later she awoke in the dark with a muscular arm draped over her
stomach and a sharp shoulder digging into her back.  She was cramped,
hot, sticky, and couldn't remember the last time she had felt this
good.  With a start, she realized what else was different.  "Sirs,"
she exclaimed into the night air, "I think he's gone!"  Coarse hair
scraped across her belly as another arm reached to join the first.
Their clasped hands settled on her navel.

"That's nice, nurse," came the sleepy reply.   And they all drifted
off back to sleep.

---

The End