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First, Best Destiny - Part One

Chapter 20: The End of the Beginning

Summary:

Scenes set during Generations

Scenes set after the end of the first five year mission.

Notes:

Over a year of my life, 200k words, and we're finally at the last chapter! I hope it's what you hoped it would be. Also, you only have yourselves to blame that we aren’t at the end of the story. I was originally planning to wrap this up in twenty chapters, but the feeling in the comments was that, well, more is more, so there will be a First, Best Destiny – Part Two, taking us from just before the Motion Picture to Generations, and after. I hope I’ll see you there! I can't guarantee when it will be posted, but I can say with certainty that the chances of it being up sooner are significantly increased by encouraging comments on this fic!

Oh, and speaking of Generations, here beginneth the retconning, so you’ll have to indulge my bit of canon divergence. :)

I have people to thank: first, of course, my amazing beta, manekikat, who is not only a incredibly kind person who actually kept this readable, but also encouraged me to keep going, kept me sane, and stopped me throwing in the towel half way through this chapter!

And second, every single person who has commented on this fic, as of right now. I genuinely would have stopped after a couple of chapters without your enthusiasm. Thank you so, so much. You are all wonderful and have made me cry in the best possible way. All my love to: 3kidsinatrenchcoat, Aliset, angharad233, Anon / AnonWhoAdoresYou / AnonkTime / AnonkTimeIsPanicking / Anon2RevengeofAnon, Arianna, Arin_I_Nira / Arin, Asguardianspock, beanbags, Bubbly_Mer, Child_of_Darkness69, ChimaeraKitten, cryptyd, deeptime, DetectiveMA, Donnita, Dreya monster, Earthberad, EmeraldsAndAmethyst, Erik_Heinrich, eveningstar10, ForceoftheSpear, Fractured_View, fyre, greenforsnow, HelenaSerdaigle, HiddlesHasLokiFeels, hothotpot, imnotcreativewithnames, Ineffabilitea, jenny 40, Judy Carter, Klari, Legobattlefield, Lemon_Demon_but_sadder, LissetteG, llamacat, lost_in_the_cosmos, LSPINGLES, maidengarnet, manekikat, McMac, MetisRose, Minastara, mindmeld, MOji10, monkeybob602, NebulaeEmmers, newaunty, Nosferotica, novemberleaves, perunanaama, phelmI7, Proudotaku2019, quantum27, RabbidMaki, Rachel74, readwing, Rinrys (mehtron), ShiningTimeStories, slashisfamilyhistory, Sleeping Rory, Smilingfish, Sophie, Soral179, Speff, spocklee, Talitacortazar, Tau9, TFT, the scribbler dragon, The_Bean, TheWriter2, tmelange, tooberjoober, Tournevis, vulcanrise, WeirdLittleStories, WhatsSheCalled, and last but very much not least, wisdomofcheer.

(Oh, and people who commented on The Eleventh Hour, asking about the drydock scene? There's a bit in here that's just for you. :) )

Lastly, I would beg you to remember, when you reach the end of this chapter (which was by far the hardest chapter to write) that it says in the introduction to this fic that we are following canon. So you knew what you were getting into. I hope you like it.

Deep breath. Here goes...

Chapter Text

 

Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of the love is lost. 

Kahlil Gibran 

 

The Nexus, 2371  

Kirk rested his hands on the pommel of his saddle, and looked appraisingly at the man next to him. He was much older than Kirk had been when he had first taken command of the Enterprise. His demeanour was grave, and his eyes serious. But there was something indefinable about him that Kirk liked. An air of authority, but with an undercurrent that suggested there might be more than a little rebel, if you dug beneath the surface. 

He said, “Captain of the Enterprise, huh?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Close to retirement?” 

Picard blinked. “I’m not planning on it.” 

“Let me tell you something.” Kirk leaned forward in the saddle, and his tone was earnest. “Don’t. Don’t let them promote you. Don’t let them transfer you. Don’t let them do anything that takes you off the bridge of that ship, because while you’re there, you can make a difference.” 

Picard leaned forward in turn, and matched Kirk’s intense tone. “Come back with me. Help me stop Soran. Make a difference again.” 

A smile hovered around Kirk’s lips. “Who am I to argue with the Captain of the Enterprise?” He saw a glimmer of amusement reflected in Picard’s eyes. “What’s the name of that planet - Veridian Three?” 

“Yes.” 

“I take it the odds are against us, and the situation is grim?”  

“You could say that.” 

Kirk grinned. “So, how do we get out of here?”  

Picard looked around. “It seemed to happen automatically last time, as soon as I decided I didn’t want to be part of the illusion the Nexus created for me. One minute I was there, the next, here.” 

“Huh.” Kirk raised his voice and addressed the air. “Okay, we’re done here. Veridian three, stopping the mad scientist, let’s go.” 

The air around them didn’t change, other than a gentle breeze which ruffled the manes of their horses. Picard gave a tiny huff of irritation.  

Kirk said, “Are you sure you really want to leave?”  

Picard said, “My ship is at stake. My crew. Millions of lives.” 

“I guess that’s motivation enough.”  

Picard said, “What about you? Are you sure you want to leave?” He hesitated, then added, “No ship. No crew. You’re eighty years out of time. Here, you can have anything you want. There? Not so much.” 

Kirk looked at him in wry amusement. “I thought you wanted me to come with you?” 

“I do. I can’t do it on my own. I know that. But if you don’t really want to leave, I can’t make you.” 

Kirk frowned. “I do want to leave. I do. For the reasons you just gave. Millions of lives. And it’s not my Enterprise, but it’s still the Enterprise. Of course, I’ll help.” 

Picard was watching him intently. “So, is there anything – anything at all – that might be keeping you here?”  

After a moment, Kirk drew a breath. “It could be that – I've forgotten something. Something important. I think if I could just remember – that would help. I’d know, you know? Whether I should be in here, waiting, or out there with you. I’d be sure.” 

“And me asking what it is you’ve forgotten wouldn’t be helpful?” 

Kirk shot him a half smile. He was warming up to Picard with every minute that passed. “Not really, no.” 

Picard settled his horse, which was beginning to fidget. “Okay. This thing you’ve forgotten, is -” 

“Not a thing. A who. I’m - fairly sure.” 

“Good. That’s good. Is it a person from your real life, or someone you conjured up in the Nexus?” 

Kirk hesitated, then said. “Real life. Too important not to be.” 

“Right. So you’ve forgotten someone from your life -” 

Kirk held up his hand. “Wait. No. Not forgotten. Not forgotten. I remember now. The Nexus hid the memories from me. Because it couldn’t replicate them. That’s what she said.” 

“Who?” 

“The woman. In the bar. With the purple robe and the - the smile.” 

“You spoke to Guinan?” 

“Guinan! Yes, yes, I did. More than once.” Kirk’s horse, disturbed by his enthusiasm, began to fidget, and he walked it around Picard’s horse, and back into place. “This is good, this is right. I remember this.” 

“What did she tell you?” 

“Just that. That the Nexus was hiding my memories of someone from me because its inability to replicate that person was causing me distress.”  

Picard frowned. “But if that’s the case, then this conversation is unlikely to help with your motivation to leave.” 

“Why not?” 

Picard shifted uncomfortably. “Captain, you’ve been gone a long time. With a few exceptions, everyone you knew...will be gone.” 

Kirk looked away, and swallowed. Then set his jaw. “But better that, than this – illusion.”  

Picard didn’t reply. Kirk said suddenly, “Hold on. What exceptions? If it’s been eighty years who the hell is still alive?”  

Picard gave a brief smile. “Believe it or not, your former Chief Engineer.” 

Kirk stared. “Scotty? He'd be a hundred and fifty at least!” 

Picard’s smile widened. “I think you’ll find him pretty much the same age as you left him. He was stuck in a broken ship, just drifting in space, so he transported without a destination and stuck himself in the buffer until we ran across him entirely by chance.” 

Kirk gaped at him for a long moment, then laughed. “Stuck himself in a transporter. Of course he did.” He shook his head, still smiling. “God bless you, Scotty.”  

Picard added, “And of course Vulcans have natural longevity.” 

Kirk blinked. “Vulcans?” 

“The Ambassador. Well, former.” 

Sarek is still alive?” 

It was Picard’s turn to frown. “No. Sarek died a few years ago. I’m sorry. I meant his son. Your first officer.” When no recognition dawned, he added, in a tone that indicated he might be concerned for Kirk’s mental faculties, “Spock.” 

Jean-Luc Picard was a well-read man, and had seen many literary descriptions of people turning white with shock. But he’d never seen anyone come as close to it in reality as James Kirk did in that moment. He said, in concern, “Captain?”  

He didn’t think Kirk heard him. The other man was muttering, “Eighty years. Eighty years. My god. Oh my god.” His horse, sensing its rider’s distress, began to edge away from Picard and his mount.   

Picard reached to grab the bridle, but Kirk was faster. He yanked on the reins with a ferocity that made Picard wince. The horse reared in alarm as Kirk roared to the suddenly darkening sky, “Get me out of here! 

Launch site, Veridian III  

The world around them changed like they were at the heart of a storm tearing reality itself. The sensation was like being beamed into zero gravity, then instantly out again. The seemingly solid landscape around them simply vanished, and there was a moment of hideous disorientation before it was replaced with an entirely different, apparently solid, landscape.  

Kirk had just enough time to note excessive heat, an unwelcoming rocky desert landscape, an out of place metallic platform with a rocket-like structure – that must be the launch pad – and the presence of Picard, a short distance away.  

Then the pain started. It seared into his mind like a brand, and he fell to his knees with a gasp.  

Picard, who had taken a step towards him, increased his pace and dropped next to him. “Captain, are you alright? Can you move? It worked. We’re here.” 

Kirk could barely hear him. The pain in his head was all consuming, spreading through, and weakening, his entire system. And it wasn’t just physical. A profound hurt – grief, anger, excoriating sadness - was beginning to tear at his insides.  

He pushed the emotional charge away as far away as he could, and forced himself to stand, against every instinct that screamed at him to just curl up and stop moving. Picard seized his arm to help, otherwise he might have fallen again.  

He gasped out, “I’m – I’m okay.”  

Picard looked like he didn’t believe him, but wasn’t about to argue. He nodded towards the odd structure. “Soren’s over there with the launcher. We need to get to the platform, deactivate the launcher itself, and get the control off him so he can’t reactivate it remotely.” 

Kirk said, with a tight, careful nod, trying to avoid moving his head as far as possible, “Alright. Let’s go.” 

The adrenaline rush from being shot at by a lunatic with a rocket launcher and a phaser seemed to be helping with the pain. Certainly, once Soren had made a dash for it, and dropped the control padd onto the scaffolding bridge below, he was feeling well enough to say, “I’ll get it. You go for the launcher.” 

Then the pain in his head spiked again and he swayed in place. Picard frowned. “Forget it, Captain. Get to the launcher. Engage the docking clamps. I’ll get the control padd.” 

Under other circumstances, he would have argued. Instead, he forced a smile. “Good luck, Captain. And call me Jim.” 

The explosion from the trapped rocket knocked him off his feet. When he rose, Soren and the rocket were gone, and only a crater remained. He only had time to mutter, “Yes,” before he heard the call. 

“Captain. Captain Kirk.” It was Picard, and it sounded urgent. He turned. The Enterprise’s Captain was hanging one handed from the remainder of the scaffolding bridge, the rest of which was crushed in the valley below, and he was losing his grip. He raced across the rocks, and threw himself down on the remaining bridge section, seizing Picard’s arm. Between them, they levered him back onto solid ground.  

Lying on the rough surface, staring at the blue grey sky, Kirk panted, “I thought I told you to call me Jim.”  

Picard said, after a few steadying breaths, “Old habits. You have to realise, I learned about you at the Academy. And - it’s Jean-Luc.” 

Kirk extended a bruised hand. “Pleased to meet you, Jean-Luc.” 

Picard’s dirt smeared face broke into a smile and he seized the proffered hand with alacrity. “Likewise, Jim.” 

The adrenaline was beginning to fade. The pain in his head was starting to ramp up again. He said, “Jean-Luc, any chance of a lift from your ship?”  

“I think I can arrange that.”  

“You got a good doctor aboard?” 

“The best. Are you alright?” 

“No. No, I’m not. I -” He inhaled sharply and put a hand to his head. The pain was worse. He heard Picard’s voice say, “Captain?” Then, more alarmed: “Jim!” 

Then the world turned black.  

Romulan Space, 2371  

Spock lay on the bunk at the back of the ship’s small cabin. He’d programmed in the course, and the ship was following it obediently, if with no great speed. He had set the sensors to alert him immediately if any other ships were detected, and with that precaution in place, he had given into tiredness, and slept.  

He awoke with a start, and glanced automatically towards the navigation console. All the readouts were as they should be. Nothing there had awakened him. He had slept for barely twenty minutes. He looked at the grey ceiling of the small bunk space, directly above his head. He had not been dreaming. What, then, had disturbed his sleep?  

He sat up slowly, and walked to the front of the ship, checked the readouts, ran a sensor sweep of the area, and confirmed the course. All was as it should be. In front of him, the stars hung, clear and cold and unhelpful. He walked back to the bunk and lay carefully down again. Closed his eyes. Slowed his breathing. Waited for sleep to claim him.  

Deep in his consciousness, behind walls of grief and decades of denial, past forgotten memories and long-lost joys, in a part of his mind ignored and neglected, the tiny golden ember which had just flickered to life, began to glow.   

San Francisco, Earth, 25th April 2270, evening  

“Jim?  

“Jim, you here?” 

“Bedroom, Bones.”  

Kirk heard footsteps through the apartment, then his former CMO’s head appeared round the door. “There you are, I-” McCoy stopped, and took a step further into the room. “Well, don’t we look dashing. What's the occasion?” 

“Just because I’m not wearing a uniform, there has to be an occasion? In case you didn’t notice, I’m not in command of a ship any more. I can wear other clothes.” 

“You can, but you don’t. Especially not brand-new ones like that. Where are you off to?” 

“Did you come here for something specific, or just to comment on my sartorial choices?” 

McCoy said, “Joanna wants us all to meet for lunch before she leaves town. You, me, Jo, and T’Rena.” 

Kirk looked at him. “Oh, the big meet.” He touched his CMO’s arm as he passed. “Sorry, Bones, I forgot. How did it go?” 

McCoy trailed him into the living space of the small apartment. “You know, it was good. Really good. You were right. T’Rena and Jo hit it off right away. Turns out, T’Rena doesn’t only know about people. She knows about animals too, and Jo’s half way through her veterinary qualification and there are entire modules on xenobiology in off-world species. I barely got a word in.”  

Kirk said, “That’s great.” He put a hand on his CMO’s back, steering him gently towards the door. “That’s really great. Tell Jo I’d love to have lunch with you all. Call me tomorrow and we’ll set it up.” 

McCoy dug his heels in, and they stopped moving. “Alright, what’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You. Twenty-four hours ago, you were miserable as sin about the mission ending. Now you’re like a cat on coals, and dressed to impress. Who’s coming -” His eyes fell on an overnight bag near the door. “Scratch that, where are you going? We’ve got more debriefs tomorrow.” 

“I know. I’m not leaving town.” 

“So where are you going?” 

“If you must know, I’m meeting someone.” 

McCoy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who?” 

Kirk ran a hand through his hair, then froze, and hurried to the mirror over the fireplace, straightening the disarray he’d just caused. Across the room, McCoy’s look of suspicion faded, and a slow grin began to take its place. He said softly, “Well. I’ll be damned.”  

Kirk turned sharply. “Don’t make a big deal of it. It’s not a big deal. It’s just two friends. Meeting up, talking about – stop smiling like that.” 

“This is my normal smile.” McCoy was grinning.  

“Well, stop it.” Kirk crossed back to his friend, straightening his shirt as he moved.  

“I don’t know why you’re bothering. You know you could show up dressed in scrubs and he wouldn’t care.” 

“The fact that he’s seen me in a lot worse,” Kirk muttered defensively, “is exactly why I’m bothering.” 

McCoy held up the overnight bag. “Going to be a long friendly chat, is it?” 

Kirk snatched it off him and headed for the door. “The next time we go on an extended deep space voyage, you’re not coming.”   

“If you can promise me that, I will never refer to this moment again.” He followed Kirk to the door. As they reached it, he touched his friend’s arm. “Jim.” 

Kirk stopped, took a breath. McCoy said, “I’m really pleased for you. For both of you.” 

Kirk hesitated for only a moment, then stepped forward, and enveloped him in a tight embrace. McCoy froze for a surprised second, then hugged back.

As Kirk stepped away, he muttered, self-consciously, “Thanks, Bones. For, well, you know. Everything.” 

McCoy smiled fondly at his friend, then said abruptly, “What are you still hanging around here for? It’s been five goddamn years. Get out of here before he changes his mind.”  

The walk across the city took a ridiculously short amount of time. He’d been hoping, by the time he arrived, his nerves would have settled. But they hadn’t. If anything, with every step, they’d become worse. 

What if Spock’s feelings didn’t match his own? What if the prospect of sex with his closest friend hadn’t been occupying Spock’s mind for months? He was bringing an overnight bag, for heaven’s sake. He was making some pretty clear assumptions from the moment he walked in.  

He kept walking, following the directions he’d received that afternoon. The evening was beautiful, the sky clear. Stars glittered overhead, and a gentle breeze blew in from the bay. In other circumstances, he’d have slowed his walk, admired the view. He quickened his pace.  

The building wasn’t hard to find. It was a beautiful example of earth architecture, now centuries old, but updated with all the modern technology a visiting alien dignitary might require. The windows had that old fashioned tint that indicated whilst the view from inside might be spectacular, anyone looking inwards wouldn’t see anything at all. He guessed that was a holdover from a time when local people might have been over-eager to catch a glimpse of aliens in their midst. But San Francisco had been host to both Starfleet Headquarters and Starfleet Academy for nearly a century. He doubted that a Klingon in full battle dress wandering down the main street would attract more than a passing glance from the denizens of the city now.   

Sensors at the door, and the lift, granted him access before he had time to wonder how to get in, and on the top floor of the beautifully appointed building, the door to the penthouse apartment was ajar. He took a steadying breath, and stepped inside.  

He was dimly aware of the door closing quietly behind him as he stared around, suddenly glad he’d made an effort with his appearance. The room was large, spacious, and absurdly luxuriously appointed. Opposite him, a huge window gave a spectacular view of the night sky, and the skyline of the bay. He dropped his bag, and moved automatically towards the stars.  

He was almost to the window when movement to his right caught his attention. He turned.  

Spock was standing a few metres away, illuminated by the light from the bay. Jim felt his mouth go dry. Spock was wearing a dark robe, not wholly unlike the one he had worn for meditation aboard the Enterprise. But this material was darker, richer, and even more flattering, emphasising his slim form, his height, and the incredible darkness of his eyes.  

Jim swallowed, said, “Hey.” 

“Hello Jim.” 

After a moment, aware that he was just staring, he managed, “Hope, er, hope you don’t mind,” he gestured vaguely back the way he’d come, never taking his eyes off Spock, “Door was open.”  

“For you.”  

Spock crossed the room, his step measured, and stopped an arm’s length away. “I am – very glad you came.” His tone was oddly formal, and Jim thought, with a sudden fierce surge of affection. He’s nervous too.   

He shot Spock a half smile. “You – didn’t really think I wouldn’t?” 

“The thought had occurred.” 

“Not to me.” 

He took a small step closer. There were only inches between them now. Jim took a breath. He didn’t want to rush this, didn’t want to make any stupid, fumbling mistakes.  

They stood in silence before the window, a panoramic view of San Francisco bay in front of them, with eyes for nothing but each other.   

In the light from the bay, Spock’s face was partially shadowed, and his eyes looked depthless, staring into his from so close, such a small measure of space all that stood between them now, when they had been so far apart for so long. 

Jim’s heart was hammering in his chest, but he couldn’t seem to speak. All the things he’d carefully planned to say, all the declarations of love, of devotion, simply died in his throat as he gazed at the man in front of him. Spock seemed similarly stricken, and around them, the air was hushed and silent, as if the night itself was holding its breath.  

Silently, slowly, he reached up to touch Spock’s face, and run a hand that wasn’t entirely steady across the soft skin of his cheek. Spock leaned his face into the touch, a tiny, elegant movement that still made Jim’s breath catch.  He ran his hand gently to Spock’s hairline, then to his ear, where he ran a finger lightly around its edge, and up to the elegant point. He said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I- I’ve always wanted to –“ 

Spock said, in a quiet voice that was even less steady than his own, “Jim, please, I – “ He raised two shaking fingers and Jim recognised the ozh’esta, and hurriedly fitted his own two fingers against Spock’s. He said, uncertainly, “Is this right? Show me –“   

Spock gently trailed his fingers against Jim’s, running them down one side, then up the other in an achingly slow rhythm, never breaking contact. Jim felt his heart rate, already high, kick up again. Every point of contact between his skin and Spock’s was tingling, like a circuit was being completed. He was almost light-headed with anticipation. If he didn’t get to touch more, feel more, he felt like the world might end.   

With his other hand, he reached for Spock’s extended fingers, drawing them away from his own to press a kiss reverently against the pads.  

When he opened his eyes again, Spock was staring at him, mouth slightly open, and breathing more rapid. His hands came up to hold Jim’s face, gentle, caressing, and he said, “Jim, may I –“ 

“Yes, Spock, yes.” He closed his eyes as Spock drew their lips together. At the first touch, Jim thought he might simply expire. His heart felt like he was sprinting for his life, and he was sweating all over. Spock’s lips were gentle, and soft, and perfect, and his hesitancy, his carefulness, his reverence, was heart breaking. It felt like not enough, and far, far too much, all at once. He was frozen with the enormity of it, felt like if he reacted at all, made any movement, this exquisite, perfect moment would be forever broken.   

After a length of time Jim had no capacity to reckon, Spock drew away slightly and said, uncertainly, “Jim, is this not – pleasing? I – you are not – you do not seem –“ 

The doubt in his face, his anxiety, broke Jim’s heart. He took Spock’s face in his. “Spock, this is –  you’ve no idea. I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long – I don’t know how to – “ he ran a hand through Spock’s hair, across his shoulder, along his arms, to his hands, seized the hand that was still near his face, and pressed it to his cheek, kissing the palm.  “I don’t want to get this wrong – I want you so much, I don’t know where to start, I –“ 

“Kiss me. Please, my Jim, my ashayam. Please – kiss me. I desire you.” Spock was trembling with the force of it. “I have yearned for you; it is impossible that you could not please me. Jim – I beg –“ 

Jim felt his heart crack wide open. All the years of suppression, of ignoring, of pretending not to feel this – this overwhelming, all-consuming feeling – came rushing out in a wave of love, of desire so strong, it was overpowering. He reached up, pulled Spock’s face to his and kissed him. It lacked the gentleness of their first, but he was too far gone for that restraint now. He kissed Spock with all he had, with every moment he had wanted and walked away, with every glance, with every touch, with every time he had looked at him and wanted and been denied.   

In response, Spock wound his arms around him, pulling their bodies into every inch of contact he could, until there was nothing between them but slim, permeable layers of fabric, that did nothing to disguise the rising heat, the slowing forming feedback loop of sensation, and their growing arousal.  

Kissing Spock was like nothing he’d ever experienced. He felt dizzyingly turned on, and cherished, and adored, and although he had initially led their embrace, Spock was fast proving his equal in the arena of amorous exploration. Every moment that they touched drove every previous experience from his mind. Spock’s mouth was hot, and he tasted of spice, and heat, and desert. His body was pressed hard against Jim’s and the sensation made him hyper aware of every nerve ending where their bare skin met. 

Spock was pulling them together so tightly it almost hurt, kissing him back with a fervour that matched every moment of his own. How long, he thought wildly, have you looked at me and wanted this? Against his mouth, Spock made a sudden noise of desperate, abandoned desire, and every thought of caution, of restraint, was driven from his mind.  

He needed to touch more. He fumbled for the front of Spock’s robe, not breaking the kiss. Spock did likewise, grabbing for his shirt, and moaning in frustration when it did not immediately come away. He found the tie for Spock’s robe, and pulled it apart. Underneath, his exploring hand found Spock’s naked chest, and he shoved aside the robe, feeling for every inch of skin he could reach.   

Spock’s skin was heated, his torso muscular and firm. Jim’s exploring hand found his heartbeat, strongest on his lower left side, and racing beneath his caress. In a distant part of his mind, he was aware that his new shirt was no longer intact, but that was an insignificant price to pay for the feel of Spock’s hands on him, the sheer heady sensation of those long, elegant fingers against his bare skin. He could feel Spock’s hands exploring him with a kind of frantic reverence: stroking and caressing, covering every inch of Jim’s torso within reach, as if he were trying to map his form by touch alone. His hands roamed lower, over Jim’s ass and his grip suddenly tightened, almost lifting Jim off his feet and pulling their groins together with a firmness that made Jim gasp into his mouth.  

In response, he moved his own hand lower, across the front of the thin briefs under the robe, and Spock gave a wanton moan, a noise Jim would never have believed him capable of producing, and bucked involuntarily against Jim’s hand. Jim had to break their kiss to catch his breath and steady himself.  

Against Spock’s cheek, he gasped, “I want you so much.”  

Spock’s voice was wrecked, almost incoherent. “Yes. I too. Please, Jim. Please.” 

He seized Spock’s mouth in another bruising kiss. If this had been anyone else at all, he’d have been worried about holding them so tightly, about pushing so hard. But every touch of Spock’s hand reminded him that this was a strength even greater than his own, and absolutely nothing would happen here without Spock’s total engagement. 

He pressed his hand against the front of Spock’s groin, and that hot, hardening length. Spock gave a cry of pure, desperate arousal and Jim moaned into his mouth. They weren’t going to be able to stay upright without support. Without breaking their kiss, he moved Spock backwards, against the window, and trapped him in place.  

Spock moved as if he’d lost all voluntary control of his limbs, his only assistance being to hold Jim so tightly during the move that the distance between their bodies could not increase.  

With his free hand he seized Spock’s, pressing their joined hands against the glass and entwining their fingers together. Then he began to move both hands in the same rhythm. Stroking between Spock’s fingers and along his length, slowly, tortuously, increasing the pressure and speed of his caress.  

Spock threw his head back against the window and made a sound like a wounded animal, gasping for breath. 

Jim had to change his stance so no part of his groin was in contact with Spock. He was already so hard it was almost painful. Any friction at this moment could be fatal.  

Years of duty, of repression, of denial, were stripped away with every breath, every moan, with every kiss. He’d known he would feel this way. Known how much he wanted this, known how Spock’s mere presence could make his skin tingle in anticipation. But he hadn’t considered the effect of Spock’s responses. He’d always imagined Spock to be deeply passionate, but in an understated, Vulcan way. Not obvious, not demonstrative.  

He had been wrong, and his miscalculation had utterly ended any possibility that they might be able to take things slow. To explore each other gradually with the reverence their first union deserved.  Spock was holding him as if their time together was limited, and he wanted to wring every ounce of pleasure, of connection, of love, out of what little they had. He had thrown aside Vulcan reserve as if nothing mattered. Even in his wildest imaginings Spock had never been like this. So openly vulnerable, so nakedly desirous and desperate. For him. For James Kirk. It was shocking, and incredible, and the most intensely arousing reaction he had ever experienced.   

Spock closed his eyes and made a noise that was almost pained. Jim slowed his movements, and forced himself to take a steadying breath. He whispered, “You okay?”  

The eyes that met his were hazy and unfocussed, dark and drowning in desire. Spock took a trembling breath, then rasped, “Control. No control.” 

Jim took his hand from where it held Spock’s against the window and caressed his cheek. “I know. It’s okay. It’s – more than okay. But are you alright?” 

Spock nodded jerkily. “Yes.” Jim leaned forward to kiss him again, slow, and intense, and tender. He took his hand back to entwine their fingers once more and beneath his other hand, his lover’s cock jerked violently.  

He broke their kiss to murmur, “Are you close? I want to see you. Please.” Spock made a broken noise. His eyes were wide, and desperate.  

Jim tightened his grip, and increased the movement of his hand. As Spock tensed, he ground out, “Come for me.”  

Spock’s entire body trembled, then convulsed, and he gave a wild cry that echoed through the space.  

Jim continued to slowly stroke, and kiss, and gentle, keeping himself back from the brink by sheer force of will, until the tension in Spock’s body had subsided. Then he closed the tiny space between them and moved himself in contact with Spock’s thigh. Two thrusts were all it took before he was entirely lost, as the world imploded and he gasped, ”Spock, oh god, Spock,” and clung to the Vulcan with the kind of strength that would have bruised a human, bracing them both against the cool glass to avoid the indignity of crumpling to the floor.  

They stood for a long moment, pressed together, breathing each other’s air.  

Eventually, against Spock’s cheek, he murmured, “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean things to move – quite that fast.” 

He heard a trembling intake of breath, and then, in a quiet, unsteady voice, that nevertheless had something of Spock’s usual dryness, “I am not complaining.” 

Jim huffed a gentle laugh into his neck. “Good. Because I was rather planning to continue in this vein, if that’s alright with you.”  

“I - believe your plan to be - both appropriate and - and apposite.” Spock was clearly trying to conduct the conversation as if they were discussing nothing more interesting than a requisition request for the Enterprise, but his unsteady voice, and the slight tremble that still seized his slim form, was undermining the attempt.  

Jim drew back slightly, raising his head from Spock’s shoulder to see his face.  He’d been planning to make some light comment, about refraction periods, or captains and plans, but the impulse simply died when he saw Spock’s expression.  

His eyes were glistening, and so emotional it made Jim’s own heart clench in turn. His face was full of a kind of stunned adoration, and more openly vulnerable than Jim had ever seen. He said, almost without conscious intent, “I love you. I know I said it yesterday, but I wanted you to know that – I meant it. I wasn’t tipsy, or – or overwrought, or –“ He broke off as Spock suddenly pulled them together, so close that Jim’s head was over his shoulder, cheek against his hair, and he could no longer see his face.  

He breathed to continue speaking, then some deep instinct, instinct that he’d spent his life trusting, told him to stay quiet. He increased his grip on the body against his, trying to quieten the trembling with the weight and warmth of his own body.  

After a still, silent moment, so quiet he barely heard it, Spock said, “And I you. My Jim. My T’hy’la.” His grip tightened, and his head lowered so that his face was buried against Kirk’s neck, and he repeated hoarsely, “And I you.”  

They stood together, wrapped in each other, for a long time. It felt necessary, as if they both needed reassurance that this was finally real: that the other wouldn’t suddenly be pulled away.  

Jim slowly became aware of two things: one, the heated area between them, where their bodies pressed together, was damp, and the window, against which Spock was leaning, was beginning to cool.  

He moved gently against Spock’s grip, pressed another kiss to his lips, and leaned their foreheads together for a moment before taking a tiny step back. He’d never seen anything like the expression on Spock’s face. He looked overwhelmed. Devastated.  

Jim pressed a light kiss to his temple, before giving a gentle tug on their intertwined fingers. “C’mon. Let’s get more comfortable.” He walked them both towards the bed, before saying softly, “As lovely as this is,” he gestured towards Spock’s severely disordered robe, “I’d really like to see you without it.”  

Spock gave him a tiny, trembling smile, before slipping the robe from his shoulders, and removing his ruined briefs. Jim took a step forward, staring covetously at Spock’s naked form, only to walk into Spock’s restraining hand. He tore his eyes from Spock’s chest and looked to his face, to be confronted with a glance towards Jim’s creased, damp, but still in place, trousers.  

Jim followed his eyes and smiled. “Oh, yeah. Fair’s fair.” He slipped out of his trousers, using the wreckage of his shirt to clean himself, then Spock, before pulling the unresisting Vulcan down beside him on the bed. Spock seemed transfixed with Jim’s naked form, never taking his eyes from it, even as they moved. As Jim threw the wrecked shirt to one side, Spock followed the movement, and said, suddenly, “I should –” he made to rise, and Jim pounced immediately, pushing him backwards against the pillows. 

“Don’t you dare move.” He trailed a hand down Spock’s naked torso, admiring the smoothness of his skin and the defined muscles under it. “Not when I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”  He let his eyes roam over Spock’s perfect form, only to realise, as his eyes came back to Spock’s face, that he was doing the same, drinking in the sight of Kirk naked like a drowning man sighting land.  

Jim said softly, “I have the better view.”  

Spock’s eyes, which had been lingering on his groin, came back to his face. He said, hoarsely, “You are – incorrect.” 

“Oh, I see how this is going to go.” He ran a possessive hand down Spock’s chest, before bending to kiss his exposed nipple, an action that drew a light intake of breath. “Less than twenty-four hours out of my command, and you’re giving me back talk.”  

Spock had reached up to run a reverent hand along Jim’s cheek, “I am merely –” Jim lent forward to make a more determined assault on the same nipple, licking and sucking lightly, and Spock’s breath hitched “- correcting your – ah – erroneous –”  

Jim raised his head, innocently, “Sorry – erroneous?” 

“Please - do not desist.” 

Jim leaned forward with a smile and placed a light kiss against his lips. “Be careful what you wish for. If I have my way, you’ll never be rid of me again.”  

“That would be a hardship I would be willing to bear.” Spock’s voice was softer, his face more open, than Jim had ever seen or heard. The look in his eyes was searing. Jim lent forward to claim another kiss. When they broke apart Jim found himself unable to look away. The luxury of being able to look, to touch, when he had been denied for so long, was overwhelming.  

“Jim. You are - staring at me.” 

Jim said, and his smile grew, impossibly, fonder. “I am. I’m staring at you. Because I can. I’ve always loved looking at you. And now I can look at you all I like.”   

Spock said softly, “Jim.”  

“I love you, Spock. I love you. I can say that now too.”  

Spock’s eyes were moist. “And I, you.” He reached across the intimate space between them, ran his fingertips along Jim’s face. As they passed his psi points, he felt a tingle of response.   

As his hand drifted across Jim’s cheek, Jim caught it and kissed the pads, before sucking lightly. Spock gave an involuntary intake of breath.

Kirk broke off long enough to say quietly, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? Wanted you? It feels like - forever. I can’t remember a time before.” 

 “I have long desired you also, my ashayam.” 

Jim smiled at him, entwining his fingers with Spock's and bringing them both to his lips. “Well, I’m all yours.”  

Spock’s dark gaze met his. Some of his stunned expression had begun to fade, to be replaced with reawakening desire. He ran his free hand possessively over Jim’s bare chest, then pulled him down for a thorough, very human, kiss.  

After a long moment, when they had broken apart, Jim gave a sudden huff of laugher, and laid his forehead against Spock's. “I wish I’d known you felt like this six months ago. I nearly caused a diplomatic incident trying to get you away from Droxine. I was so jealous I could barely see straight.”   

Spock made an odd noise that could have been suppressed laughter, and Jim grinned. Spock said, in quiet amusement, “You had no cause.” Then he added, “I, on the other hand –” 

Jim, who had been running his hand through the hair on Spock’s chest, stopped, and looked at him in surprise. “You – were jealous?” 

Spock said evenly, “Jim, although it is true that I am often in control of my emotions – It is frequently, significantly less true when it comes to you.”    

“Is that your way of telling me – you were jealous too?” Jim was smiling.  

Spock’s tone was gently teasing. “I had more reason to be.”  

Kirk frowned. “Hey, that’s not fair. You were practically married. And I wasn’t allowed – you. I had to keep my hands to myself. Couldn’t touch you. For five years. I get credit for that, surely.”  

Spock raised an eloquent eyebrow. “You did not always keep your hands to yourself, Jim.”  

“I did.”   

“You did not.”   

Jim huffed a laugh. “Okay, I didn’t. But you were – right there. All the time. I’m not made of stone.”   

“And I am,” Spock lifted Jim’s hand, and ghosted his lips against his fingertips, “A touch telepath. Who desired your touch.”  

Jim licked his lips. “I – didn’t think of it like that.”  Spock’s hand had been caressing him for a few minutes now, and he felt his body beginning to respond again. He seized Spock’s hand, and halted the movement, holding it against his chest, not wanting his next words to be lost.  

He said, and the truth of it stung like a brand on his heart, “It’s only ever been you, you know. For – for the longest time. Since before I even realised.” 

Spock stared at him for a long moment, his eyes wide, and shocked, then in a flurry of movement Jim was on his back on the bed, and Spock was on top of him, kissing him in the human and Vulcan ways, whilst pressing their naked bodies together to bring their hardening lengths into contact. The feel of Spock against him, pinning him in place, sent a jolt of arousal through his system so strong, he bucked against his former first officer almost involuntarily.  

There was no sound for a long time but breaths and moans, words of encouragement, words of adoration, and abortive cries of near-nonsense as they explored each other, and gloried in the freedom to do so without hesitance or restraint. The feel of Spock, his heat, his scent, his nearness, his passion, his obvious desire, was bringing Jim to the brink again much faster than he wanted. He gasped, “I’m close – slow or I’ll –”  

Spock looked up from where he was lavishing attention on Jim’s nipple, and that small smile reappeared. He said, and his voice would have been teasing, had it not also been dark with desire. “I shall not. I wish to see you.” Instead of decreasing the friction against Jim’s length, he added his hand, rubbing his thumb against the slit, and increasing the rhythm of his stroking. Jim made a strangled sound of pure need, and thrust into that irresistible warmth as Spock continued to lave his nipple with an agile tongue.  

Jim’s climax hit with a force that would have bucked him violently against Spock, had the Vulcan not held him in place, continuing to gently stroke as he slowly came back to himself, and gazing down at him with something very close to wonder.  

As Jim’s breath began to even out, he became aware that Spock was still hard, and he grinned up in delight. “My turn.”  

In one quick movement he flipped their positions, leaving Spock blinking up at him in surprise. He leaned down for a quick kiss, before beginning to work his way down Spock’s chest, kissing and caressing as he went. Spock began, “Jim, there is no need to –” 

Whatever else he might have said was lost, as Jim reached his destination, and took the head of Spock’s erection into his mouth. Spock’s voice ended in a cry of pure unbridled lust, and he stared down at his former captain in utter disbelief. Jim released him long enough to say, teasingly, “Sorry, you were saying?” Spock did not respond, and Jim returned to his task with the slightly smug smile of man who had successfully rendered a Vulcan speechless.  

Spock’s voice became a litany of random words, moans, and small cries of ecstasy. Jim heard his own name, and a string of Vulcan that he had no hope of deciphering. He reached out, seeking Spock’s hand where it was gripping the sheets, and entwined it with his own. Spock’s other hand came to touch his hair, and he made a noise of encouragement. Spock said, barely coherent, “Jim, I am close – please, I – ah, Jim, ashayam –”  

Jim merely increased his pace, and squeezed the fingers that were in his own. Spock came with a sound that was almost a sob, repeating Jim’s name like a prayer. Jim slowed his pace, gentling and releasing with infinite care, before wiping his mouth and moving back the way he’d come, kissing and nuzzling gently as he went. When he reached Spock’s face, his eyes were closed.  

He placed a light kiss on his forehead. “Hey. You still with me?”  For a moment there was no response, then he was gathered close in Spock’s arms and held with such reverence that it brought a lump to his throat. He wound his arms around Spock in turn, and lowered his face against his neck.  

They lay there for a long time, breathing in sync, and simply drifting. With anyone else, Kirk would have tried to move, concerned that his weight would grow too heavy, but he had no fear of that with Spock, and in his turn, the Vulcan seemed disinclined to release his firm but gentle grip.  

Jim was beginning to doze, when Spock stirred, and he raised his head to see dark eyes looking down at him with open adoration. He smiled. “Hey.” 

“Hello.” Spock smiled back. It was such a rare and wonderful sight, that Jim simply stared in delight for a long moment, before reaching up to press a kiss against it, and then laying his head back against Spock’s shoulder in satisfaction.  

After a while, he said, “It’s good we didn’t do this on the ship. A red alert couldn’t move me right now.”  

Spock made a gentle noise of agreement. “Then we are similarly incapacitated.” 

Jim was running his hand idly across Spock’s chest. Aloud he said, quietly, “Beta Three.”  

Spock blinked at the non-sequitur. “The planet of Landru.” 

Jim smiled against his shoulder. “Yes, and the first time I saw your bare chest.” 

Spock said, in a voice of mild confusion, “And that was - significant?” 

“It was for me. Before that, I just assumed Vulcans didn’t have chest hair at all.” 

“Well, not all Vulcans do, but-” Spock’s confusion was clear, “-why would we not?” 

Jim said, idly, “Well it’s a bit of an evolutionary throwback, isn’t it? Not very – logical.”  

After a moment, Spock’s chest began to shake, and Jim looked up in time to hear Spock make a sound he’d never heard before – laughter. Jim grinned and gazed at him in delight. Spock took a steadying breath, and said, “That is – the most – illogical thing –” he broke off again to suppress another laugh.  

It was the most infectious sound Kirk had ever heard, and he joined in, almost without realising, never taking his eyes off Spock’s face. He wanted to fix this moment forever in his mind.  

As Spock recovered his equilibrium, the question Jim had been thinking about for months occurred to him again, and he said, a little self-consciously, “Spock – can we – can we meld?” 

Spock’s face softened immediately. “Of course. If you wish.”  

Jim smiled.  

“But,” Spock added quickly, “we must not meld during any sexual act.”  

Kirk looked instantly disappointed. “Why not?” 

Spock said, with the air of one explaining the obvious, “It requires a great deal of discipline to maintain a stable meld with a non-telepath. And I would be – distracted. As we are already predisposed to the formation of a bond, there would be a risk of a permanent connection being formed by accident.”  

“Because we are –” Jim spoke the alien word with his usual care “- T’hy’la.” 

“Yes.”  

Jim pressed his lips together for a moment then said, with painfully studied casualness, “Would that – a bond - be so bad?”  

Spock’s eyes widened, then their opaque surfaces became misted, and he reached for Jim’s hand, entwining their fingers. After a moment, he said hoarsely, “It would not. But it would be irrevocable. It cannot be done on an impulse, or under the influence of undue emotion. It must be done soberly, after due time has passed and our feelings have not changed.”  

Jim swallowed, then nodded. “Fair enough. How, er, how long a time exactly?”  

“Jim-” 

“I know, I’m sorry. Always rushing in –” 

“Jim, we cannot know what the future will hold. If you are, as you should be, given command of the Enterprise again, any bond between us would endanger my position as your first officer.”  

Kirk took a breath, and looked away. “Let’s worry about that when we find out whether I’m ever getting anything to command ever again.” He inhaled, making an obvious effort to change the suddenly heavy atmosphere. “So, what you’re saying is: I have to pick one. Sex or meld.”  

Spock blinked. “That is certainly – an interpretation of what I said.”  

“Okay. Meld or sex. Sex or meld.” Jim’s was the exaggerated face of man struggling with a serious dilemma. “Talk about a rock and a hard place. Do you have a preference?” 

Spock looked, for one brief moment, lost for words. “It is – not a dilemma with which I have ever been confronted.”  

“Hmm. Okay, meld first. It’s harder to focus after sex. I tend to want to sleep.”  

“You do not seem especially fatigued thus far.”  

Kirk smiled. “Give me time. We’re just getting started.” He sat up, and pulled the unresisting Vulcan with him. “Right. My temples are at your disposal.” 

Spock merely looked amused. “You do not wish to – dress?” 

Jim blinked. “Not really, no. I mean, you can if you like, but I’d honestly rather you didn’t.” He grinned laviciously at his former first officer, whose attempt to look disapproving failed markedly.  

Spock said with amusement, “Very well.”  

They positioned themselves comfortably in the middle of the bed, and Jim closed his eyes with a smile. After a moment, Spock’s fingers were against his temples, and he felt a rush of sheer joy. As Spock’s presence began to shimmer on the edge of his mental horizon, he sent, Hurry up, get in here.  

Spock’s voice came back, clear and fond, and inside his mind. I am here

His presence was stronger than it had ever been. It was vibrant, and beautiful, and the very essence of the man he loved. It was every time they had laughed together, and cried. Every time they had faced danger, and every time they had overcome. It was a presence indelibly linked with his ship, and the happiest days of his life, and yet it was still itself: whole, entire and wonderful, and everything he never imagined he could have. He sent, with all the mental focus he could muster, I love you.  

But somehow, it felt inadequate. The mere words could not possibly do justice to this feeling. This feeling that was overwhelming, almost frightening, in its intensity. He felt a wave of it overtake him, stronger than he’d ever felt before, and he directed it all to Spock: this unbearable love, this desire, this adoration, this passion: every beat of his heart which said, “I love you, I can love you.” It was all he had, but it was not only his, it was theirs, pure and perfect, and greater than them both.  

Spock gave a sudden cry of distress, and his hands dropped from Kirk’s face. The meld broke so abruptly that Jim gasped. When he opened his eyes, Spock was backed against the head of the bed, his hands braced against the mattress, gazing at Jim in wide-eyed near panic. His breathing was fast and his voice raw as he said, “You – you love me.”   

Jim stared back in confusion. Sitting alone in the middle of the bed, he felt suddenly exposed. “Well – yes.” Wasn’t it clear? “Of course. You didn’t – didn’t you know? I thought – it was obvious. I mean, I – I said so.”   

Spock’s breath was beginning to hitch in a worrying manner. “I – did not realise the – the extent of – I felt it. I felt it.” His voice broke and his eyes had filled with tears. Alarmed, Jim crossed the space between them, reached for him, then stopped abruptly. The need to comfort was visceral, but touching had produced this reaction – Spock made a broken sound that was almost a sob, and Jim had his arms around him, pulling him close before conscious thought could intervene.   

“Spock, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m sorry I –” he realised he had no idea what he’d done, “– I’m sorry.” He murmured words of comfort, holding him as close as he could. He had feared that Spock might recoil from his touch, but instead he clung to Jim in trembling silence, burying his head in his shoulder as he struggled for control.   

Jim stroked his back, and held him tightly, as the night drew on around them. Spock’s breathing began to even out, then after a while, he began, unevenly, “I am sorry-” 

Jim cut him off. He drew back just enough for Spock to be able to see his face, so there could be no misunderstanding. “Please don’t.  Don’t apologise. Not for emotion. Not with me. Not ever. I’m the one who should be sorry – I just threw all that at you, I –”  

Spock leaned forward, and kissed him.  

It was slow, and reverent, and adoring. It was joy in their connection, and love, and perfect in this intimate silence. They breathed each other’s air, and kissed again, and again, with no rush, no desperate desire, simply a quiet peace.  

When Jim finally slept, it was with Spock’s arm over him, and the warmth of his body against him.  

Sunlight streamed through the window, warming and lighting the apartment. James Kirk came to slow, sleepy consciousness, and blinked in momentary confusion at a richly appointed ceiling, before memory returned. He was on Earth. The Enterprise was no longer his ship. He felt a tightening of grief in his chest, then he turned his head.  

And smiled.

Next to him, on the pillow, Spock was still asleep. His hair was tousled, and too much over one side. His breathing was regular, and rhythmic, his sleep apparently deep, and peaceful.  

Jim’s smile widened as memories of the previous night came back to him. His pain at the ending of their mission, the loss of his ship, the scattering of his crew, had eased with every touch, every kiss, every demonstration of love. He might no longer have the Enterprise, but she had not left him alone. She had given him this: this unique and extraordinary being. His equal. His lover. This incredible intelligence and physical strength combined with a compassionate and beautiful soul that never ceased to inspire and move him. 

Jim shuffled onto his side, and gazed at his former first officer in quiet delight. He reached out a hand, and ran a finger, very lightly, across Spock’s cheek. The Vulcan didn’t stir. The right thing to do in this scenario was obviously to let him sleep. He’d just finished a five-year mission, in deep space, in challenging circumstances, in which he’d been fulfilling two posts at the same time. As his Captain, Jim knew exactly how hard his first officer had worked. He deserved his rest. Jim reached this conclusion quickly, then hesitated for less than a second before blowing lightly on Spock’s cheek.  

When this did not produce a response, he shuffled a little closer, until he could feel the warmth of Spock’s body, then pressed a light kiss to the end of his nose. Spock stirred, and shifted slightly. After a moment, his eyes fluttered open. Jim grinned. “Morning, sleepyhead.” 

This close, he could see every micro expression that played across Spock’s face. After the sleep cleared, the first was utter shock, then disbelief, then an open wonderment and joy that gave a physical life to the feeling currently beating in Jim’s chest. All this took less than a few seconds, before Spock mastered himself, and his face resumed something like its usual neutrality. But the glow in his eyes remained. He said quietly, “Good morning.”  

Jim found that the grin which had lodged itself on his face at the sight of Spock was refusing to move. He said, just for something to say, because simply staring silently at Spock and smiling like a fool might get unnerving, “Sleep well?”  

Spock blinked. “I did, thank you. I was – somewhat tired.” 

“Can’t think why.” Jim deadpanned, “It’s not like you’ve had a stressful few years, or had anyone keeping you awake last night.” 

Spock’s eyes twinkled at him. “It is an insoluble mystery.” 

He grinned back. He reached under the light cover, found Spock’s hand, and interlaced their fingers. Spock’s expression softened instantly. Jim said, quietly, “No regrets?” 

An eyebrow arched in a way that was so familiar, it made his heart swell. Spock said, “What could I possibly have to regret?”  

Jim smiled in relief. “My thoughts exactly.” After a moment, he added, “I am glad we didn’t do this on the ship though. It was hard enough imagining it in theory. After the practice, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off you. I’d have been a walking liability.” He pitched his voice in an imitation of his chief engineer’s Scottish brogue, “’Where’s the Captain?’” He imitated McCoy’s gentle southern lilt. “’Oh, he’s off taking another cold shower.’”  

Spock looked amused. “I believe you underestimate your own professionalism.” After a moment he added, hesitantly, “You – imagined this?” 

Jim smiled. “This, last night,” he twinkled at the man in front of him, “- tonight.“ On Spock’s expression, he said, “Oh, you didn’t think you were getting rid of me, did you?” 

“I hoped not.”  

“There’s very little chance of me going anywhere whilst you’re here.”  

“Other than headquarters.” 

Jim pulled a face. “Yeah. Other than. Nogura again. Hopefully the last debrief today though. Wait, wait a second – you didn’t imagine this?” 

Spock’s expression was mildly disapproving. “It would have been most inappropriate of me to indulge in such imaginings. You were my Captain.”  

Jim eyed him in amusement. “Nice evasion, but that’s not a ‘no’, is it?” 

The guilty expression on Spock’s face made him laugh out loud. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d be prepared to bet I was worse than you. Honestly, some days there would be entire shifts when I could barely look at you.” 

Spock blinked. “You imagined – on the bridge?” His voice was slightly scandalised.  

Jim said, defensively, “You were right there! Practically in my eye line, and it’s not like we were saving the Federation every shift – some shifts were quiet. And you were very distracting. There was a chair at that science station, you know, you could have used it more.”  

Spock frowned. “For what purpose?” 

“To sit in! Instead of,” Jim gestured, “bending over all the time.” 

Spock began, “In order to utilise the sensors, and the overhead –“ he broke off “– why would it be distracting if –“ he broke off again, and stared accusingly at Jim. 

In response Kirk pulled their cover over his head, and from beneath it came, “Yes. Okay. I was looking at your ass. You have a really fine ass. There, I said it, happy?” 

An odd noise made him pull the covering back, and he realised, he was, for the second time in their relationship, watching Spock trying – and failing – to suppress laughter. He grinned in delight. “Oh that’s right, laugh it up. Come on, you didn’t think about me on the bridge at all? Throw me a bone here.” 

Spock recovered himself quickly. After a moment, he said reluctantly, “You have – a very pleasing aroma. It was particularly – notable when you stood close to me.”  

“Are you saying I smell?” 

“It is a very pleasing scent, and only noticeable when one is possessed of a sensitive olfactory nerve, and you are very close. As you frequently were. For no reason that I could adequately discern.” 

“The readouts on that science station weren’t big, you know, I had to be able to see them.”  

“It was – somewhat distracting.”  

“Was it?” 

“Yes.” 

Kirk shuffled closer with a teasing smile. “How distracting?”  

“In the latter half of our mission? Very.”  

Kirk’s face was getting inexorably closer to Spock’s. Until he said, reluctantly, “Jim, you must prepare for your meeting with Admiral Nogura.” 

Spock was treated to the rare sight of James Kirk, renowned starship captain, and hero of the Federation, pouting. “I don’t want to meet Nogura. I want to stay with you.” 

“I will be here when you return.”  

Jim’s face relaxed into a genuine smile. “Promise?” 

Spock said with amusement, “Where would I go?” 

Jim’s smile faltered. “Well, Vulcan.”  

“My ship does not leave for two days.”  

Jim sat up, his teasing bonhomie falling away entirely. He took a breath, then turned to the man next to him.  

“Spock – don’t go. Stay on Earth.” His face was serious. “Teach at the Academy. I couldn’t say that before, when I was your Captain. I had to give you the best career advice. And I know – I know I’m being selfish even asking –” 

“I shall stay.” 

“- and I should still be telling you to go, but – what?” Kirk blinked.  

Spock said mildly, “I shall inform the Academy today that I wish to avail myself of their offer of a teaching position, and convey my regrets to the Admiral.” 

Jim stared at him. “Just like that?” 

“Yes.” Spock’s face was gently amused.  

“But –” Kirk licked his lips, “-what about your career, Spock, you need –”  

“Teaching and researching at the Academy is not a step backwards, Jim.” 

“Well, no, but –”  

“And,” Spock hesitated, then added quietly, but firmly, “I wish to be with you.” 

Kirk had opened his mouth to protest again, but stopped, a smile beginning to spread across his face. “Really?” 

Spock looked as if he were barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “Of course. Now, you must dress and go to Headquarters.”  

Jim was smiling at him with an expression like he’d hung the stars 

Spock began, “Jim. You must –” 

Kirk leaned forward and kissed him. Slow, and intense, and tender. All thoughts of Nogura were driven from Spock’s mind in an instant. Until Jim drew back with immense reluctance. “I really do need to go. Don’t want to upset the old bruiser when I still want him to give me my ship back.”  

“Indeed.” 

“You’ll be here.” 

“I will.” Spock glanced down at his naked form. “I may dress, however.”  

Jim sighed in theatrical disappointment, then perked up, “Will you be wearing that robe you had on yesterday?”  

Spock raised an eyebrow. “It requires cleaning.”  

“Oh. Yeah. Shame.” On Spock’s expression, he added, with a wry grin. “You looked incredible in it. I’ve never seen you in anything I wanted to take off you so much.”  

Spock blushed, distinct and obvious, and Jim grinned again. Spock eyed him censoriously and said, “You will be late.” 

Jim heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Right. Yes. Duty calls. Again.” He slid out of bed and took a step away, before turning back and pointing a finger at Spock. “Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” 

“Yes, Captain.” Spock’s face was entirely neutral.  

Kirk shot him a look, before scooping up a fallen pillow and aiming it at his head. As Spock plucked it from the air, he turned towards the bathroom, muttering in amusement, “No sense of humour, my ass.” 

Spock’s own interview with one of Nogura’s aides was a short, box ticking affair in the early afternoon. Jim was nowhere to be seen, so he headed back to their apartment, and finding it empty, commenced with some of the final report revisions Starfleet had requested. After almost three hours of work, a familiar voice interrupted his concentration. 

“Spock!” 

Spock looked up from his screen. The sound of running feet echoed in the corridor outside, then the door to the apartment flew open, and Jim appeared, sweating and out of breath. 

Before Spock could enquire as to the cause, he had crossed the room, and skidded to a halt, leaning on the table in front of Spock. He panted, “They’re going to refurbish her.” He took another breath. “And I get first refusal on the Captaincy.”  

He met Jim’s eyes, and they were brimming with tears, whether from exertion or emotion, it didn’t matter. “Spock – they’re giving her back to me.” 

He rose, reached for his former Captain. “Jim, that is – “ it was as far as he got. Kirk was on him in a flash, kissing him breathless before he could say anything else.  

Jim broke the kiss long enough to say, “You’re coming too, right?”  

He looked into the eyes of the man he adored, alight with joy, and hope, and love. A man seeing all of his wildest dreams coming true.  

He said quietly, “Of course.” 

Jim said, “Oh! Scotty! I need to give him a call.” He pressed a kiss to Spock’s lips. “I’ll be just a minute.” 

Spock watched as his lover crossed the room to the computer terminal, and sat to connect his call. He wanted Jim to be happy, wanted that light in his eyes never to fade. But – in what capacity was Jim proposing he accompany the newly refurbished Enterprise? The thought of being to Jim only a fellow officer, a colleague – even one who was also first officer, and a friend – was anathema now. He loved this man. Loved him with a soul-deep fire that traced its roots to ancient warriors, with a bond that was rare and treasured. Their relationship could not be what it had been. Surely Jim had considered this?  

Across the room, Jim glanced up, mid-sentence, and grinned, before returning his attention to the screen. Spock returned to his own terminal, and sat. He would speak to Jim of this. When the initial elation had passed.  

After an hour of calls, Jim’s stomach alerted him to pleasant scents emanating from the kitchen. He abandoned the terminal, and entered to find Spock standing over a large pot on the shining cooker. He crossed the room, and stood next to his former first officer in pleased surprise.  

“You’re cooking.” 

“As you see.” 

“This smells really good. I thought we were eating out tonight?” 

“I considered the possibility,” Spock added a pinch of a spice Jim didn’t recognise to the pot, “and rejected it.”  

“Suits me, but why?” 

Spock gave him one of his almost smiles. “I find – I have you exactly where I want you.” 

Kirk grinned, and repeated happily, “Suits me.” And leaned closer to examine the contents of the pot in front of Spock. “What’re we –“ 

Spock took a breath. Kirk froze, then looked at him with suspicion. “Did you just smell me?” 

“I did not.” 

“Liar.” 

“You are standing unnecessarily close.” 

Kirk looked at the inches between them. “This is perfectly normal.” He took a step closer, so he was pressed along Spock’s side, not even air between them. “Now this would be too close.” 

“You are being absurd.” Spock’s eyes were amused.  

“I’m not the one who brought this up, Mister Personal Space Issues.”  

Spock was looking at him with such fondness, that Kirk said with a smile, “What?” 

“It occurs to me,” Spock said, “that I have never known you without a command. I am forced to conclude that a starship is a steadying influence on you.” 

Kirk grinned happily at him. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve always been like this.” He grabbed a spoon and reached into the pot. 

Spock removed his hand, and received a put out stare for his trouble. “Jim, if you had always been like this, I would have been forced to assume command within weeks.”  

“Has it occurred to you,” Kirk put down the spoon and leaned against the counter next to Spock, folding his arms, “That this might be your bad influence? I mean, I’ve always been the textbook officer. But one night with you and I’m making excuses to a fleet Admiral as to why I can’t make a meeting on time.” 

Spock raised an eyebrow. “To which textbook do you refer? Would this be one you have written?” 

“Ha-ha, funny guy. I’ll have you know I’d write an excellent textbook.” 

Spock said, with heart-warming sincerity, “I have no doubt of it.” 

Kirk smiled, and leaned across to plant a light kiss on his lips. As he leaned back, he said, “I don’t know where you get that I’ve changed, I’d never have guessed you were a sentimental old romantic, and yet, here we are.”  

Spock hesitated for merely a second. “I am not old.”  

Kirk stared at him in surprise, then laughed in delight. 

Two hours later the meal was eaten, they had retired to the couch with a view of the bay, and Jim had announced his intent to get a kitchen installed in his quarters on the new Enterprise, so Spock could add Captain’s chef to his already impressive list of duties.  

Spock replied, in amusement, that he would not wish to usurp Doctor McCoy’s role in monitoring the captain’s diet.  

Jim frowned. “Oh, good point. Maybe I shouldn’t ask him back for the next trip.”  

“You would be unable to replace him with a CMO of similar calibre.” 

Jim grinned. “Bones never believes me when I tell him you’re secretly his biggest fan.” 

“The doctor frequently belittles his own professional competence. I am merely redressing the balance. That I do not do so in his hearing is....mere coincidence.” 

Jim laughed and gazed fondly at his former first officer. “Well, much as I love him, I don’t want to spend the evening talking about Bones.” 

Spock rose to the bait immediately. “How would you like to spend the evening?”  

Jim assumed an exaggerated expression of concentrated thought. “The whole night ahead of us. No red alerts, no drills, no reason for us to be disturbed at all, in fact. What shall we do? What shall we do?” 

Spock said, as if he were announcing the weather, “I would be interested in hearing more about your inappropriate thoughts in relation to me when I was under your command.” 

Kirk who had just taken a sip of his drink, almost coughed it back up. “What? You can’t just say – I’m not telling you that!”  

Spock blinked innocently at him. “Jim, you are blushing.” 

“Of course, I’m blushing –“ 

Spock looked amused. “It is most illogical to be embarrassed by one’s fantasies.” 

“I’m not embarrassed,” Jim cleared his throat. “you just – took me by surprise, that’s all.” 

Spock said gently, "Jim, if you do not wish to share, that is of course, fine.”  

“No, I do, I do –" he broke off. Then began again, "It’s just –“ he set his drink down and heaved a self conscious sigh. “I’m being an idiot.” 

Spock looked at him evenly. “I doubt that very much. Illogical, yes, very likely. Idiotic? No.”  

Kirk shot him a half smile, then his levity fell away, as he took a breath.

After a moment, he said, “It’s – there’s this thing. When you’re a captain. Or even just on the higher command track. You must have noticed it. No one ever says anything, but you always know what they’re thinking. That you’ll be, you know, in command. Taking the lead. All the time. And –" he swallowed. "and that’s good, that’s as it should be. One of my tutors at the academy used to say that you shouldn’t need the stripes for people to know you’re in command. And she was right. But it gets – wearing. You know. Sometimes.  

“And I imagined,” he took another breath. “That it wouldn’t be like that with you. Yes, I know there are three stripes on my sleeve and two on yours, but that’s just – the nature of the job. The buck has to stop somewhere. It doesn’t really mean anything in terms of who we are – who we are to each other. God, I’m actually rambling – is this – is this making any sense?” 

He looked up. Spock was listening intently, his head on one side, taking in every word. Slowly he nodded. “Entirely.” 

“Oh, good. I guess that was a really long way of saying – and I know I’ve got more experience here, but based on current evidence, that’s not a problem for you – if you wanted to, you know –“ he broke off. “Sorry. I really am rambling now.”  

Spock said quietly, “You are making perfect sense. And I am honoured.” He reached out a hand, entwined their fingers, and said, “May I tell you -about my inappropriate imaginings involving my Captain?” 

Jim’s eyes widened. “I knew you had them.” 

Spock almost smiled. “Of course. Just not,” he added censoriously, “on the bridge.” 

“Oh, of course not, no. Most inappropriate.” Jim coughed.  

“There was one that reoccurred more than once.” 

“Well, I definitely want to hear about that one.”  

“In my defence –“ 

Jim grinned. “Well, this is going to be good.” 

“I dreamt of it first during my time, so we could argue I was not in my right mind.” 

Jim raised his eyebrows. “And the subsequent times?” 

“I - would not have that defence.” 

“Just so we’re clear.” 

"So." Spock cleared his throat. “We are - on the bridge -” 

“Woah, hold on,” Kirk’s interruption was quick, “I thought fantasies on the bridge were forbidden.”  

Spock shot him a chastising look. “Fantasising whilst on the bridge, whilst on duty, is highly inappropriate. Fantasies that take place on the bridge, imagined whilst off duty, whilst perhaps not entirely appropriate, are nevertheless permissible.”  

Kirk looked at him in delighted amusement. “My, we’re splitting that hair particularly fine, aren’t we?” 

“The two things are entirely different,” Spock said archly. “May I continue?” 

Jim smothered a grin. “Of course, yes, sorry. Far be it from me to interrupt your appropriate bridge fantasies.” 

“We are on the bridge. It is ship’s night, and we are alone.” 

Kirk frowned. “Just the two of us? On the bridge? Does this end with me demoting someone for dereliction of duty?” 

Spock shot him a look that was half amusement, half frustration.  

“Sorry, sorry. Quite right. Not in the spirit. Carry on.” 

“We are alone. I am working at my station. You walk across to me, and lean casually against the station next to me. You are out of uniform.” 

Kirk cocked his head. “How out of uniform?” 

Spock cleared his throat. “You are wearing your casual blue shirt, and khaki trousers. You are -barefoot.” 

Kirk raised his eyebrows, and blinked. “That’s - some of my actual off-duty clothes. But I’ve worn them maybe half a dozen times in five years? I’m surprised you noticed.” 

“They are – quite flattering.” 

Kirk grinned. On Spock’s expression, he straightened his face and said, “Sorry. Again. Carry on.” 

“You are, as you frequently are, far closer to me than is necessary.” 

Kirk held up a hand. “How close, exactly?” 

“Jim, do you wish me to relay this story?” 

“You’re the one who keeps bringing up the personal space issues. I think it’s time we established once and for all: how close is too close?” 

Spock made a noise of slightly strained patience. “Very well.” He rose, and indicated that Kirk should do likewise.  

Jim did so with a grin. “So, you’re at your station, and I come along, all ‘How’s all the clever science stuff coming along, Spock?’ and I stand here.” He positioned himself an entirely reasonable distance from his former first officer.  

Spock turned and regarded the distance between them with distain. “Jim, you would not stand there.” 

Kirk raised his hands. “Okay, fine. Let’s swap. You be me.” 

He stood with his back to his former science officer and muttered, “Clever science stuff, clever science stuff,” before turning his head to comment on the distance, and jumped in surprise. Spock was directly behind his right shoulder, close enough for his breath to ruffle Jim’s hair.  

“I did not stand that close.”  

“Yes, you did. Frequently.” Spock’s voice was amused.  

Kirk said defensively, “Well, the readouts on those science monitors were really small.” 

“Have you considered you may require some form of ocular enhancement?” 

“Oh, shut up. I don’t need glasses.” 

“I believe you may be mistaken.” 

“The readouts on the engineering station are the exact same size, and I could practically read them from my chair.” 

Spock cocked his head. “Then I believe my point is made.” 

Kirk sighed in defeat. “Alright. Fine. I liked standing close to you. And you never seemed to mind.” He turned, so they were face to face. “You - didn’t mind, did you?” 

Spock smiled then, and it was soft and open, and made Jim want to kiss him again. He said softly, “I did not. I would, however, have minded if you had stood so close to anyone else.” 

Jim grinned. “Good thing it was just the science station where my spatial awareness failed me then.” 

“Indeed.”  

He slipped his arms around the Vulcan’s lithe form. “I interrupted you. You were telling me a story.” 

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am unconvinced you truly wish to hear it.” 

“I do. No more interruptions, I promise.” He pressed his lips together firmly and looked at the Vulcan in mute appeal.  

“Very well.” Spock had embraced him in turn, and his hand came to rest in the small of Jim’s back. “You are standing too close to me. You voice is deeper, more resonant, than your usual tone on the bridge.”  

His hand began to stroke slowly, a repetitive, circular motion against Jim’s back.  

“You address me directly. You accuse me of – keeping secrets from you. I do not respond. You move even closer. I can feel the heat of you against me.”  

Almost unconsciously, Jim tightened his grip.  

Spock continued, “I deny it, but we both know I am not speaking the truth. You tell me that you know of my feelings for you. That you know I would like to disregard the rank between us. That you know -” His own timbre roughened, as he added, “I would like to have you.”  

Kirk drew an unsteady breath. Spock continued, in that same deepened tone, “It is my time. I am losing control of my impulses. I reach for you, but you pull away. You move to lean against the command chair. You tell me, that you are not so easy to have. That if I want you,” he held Kirk’s gaze and ran a possessive hand across his jaw, "I will have to take you.” 

Jim’s eyes widened, and his intake of breath was quick. “Damn, Spock.” 

“Do you wish me to continue?” 

“What? Yes. Yes, continue.” 

“I follow you, and pin you against the command chair. I am entirely in your power. You pull me close against you, so that I can feel your arousal. Through your clothes, and,” he entwined their hands and raised them into view, “through your skin.”  

Kirk swallowed. Spock said, softly, “I am kissing you. You are beyond exquisite: you drive me to utter distraction. I kiss your neck, your chest,” his hand moved to caress those areas of Jim’s body as he spoke. “You run your hands through my hair and hold my head in place, until I am drowning in the scent and taste of you. Your closeness is unbearable, but not enough. I break free of your grasp. I tell you I must have you, and you laugh. I beg. You take me in your hand and stroke me until I am trembling against you, then release me. You tell me,” he drew Jim’s hand to his mouth and began to press soft kisses against his fingers, “that you are not to be had by those who simply wish it. You tell me,” he was kissing his way down Kirk’s palm, to his wrist, and Jim was watching his every move, eyes blown wide, “that you must be claimed. 

“And then, you step away.” He stopped, loosening his grip on Jim’s hand.  

Kirk swallowed. After a mere second’s pause, he said, “But - you’re not just going to let me go, after that, are you?” 

Spock gave him an almost smile. “I am not. I pull you back, turning you against the chair and pinning you in place. I kiss the back of your neck, your shoulders, as I begin to strip your clothing from you.” 

Beneath his hands, Kirk shivered.  

“When you are entirely naked before me, I pull you back against me. My tunic feels rough against your skin.” He ran a hand down Kirk’s back. “I run my hands across your bare chest. I need to feel every inch of you. Your skin is heated, and smooth under my touch. I kiss your neck. You turn your face to mine and I claim your mouth in the human fashion, whilst I caress down your chest, your stomach, and then take you in hand. But I need not: you are so hard for me already.”  

Spock's hands had moved down Jim's back, and were now stroking his ass with intent. “You start to writhe against me, begin to moan into my mouth, thrust against my hand. I am desperate for you, but I do not wish things to end so soon. I release you, and you slump against the chair. 

“Before you can recover, I lean over you, holding you in place. I use my own arousal to lubricate myself before entering you, achingly slowly. You writhe and gasp beneath me, and I stop, but continue to hold you, caress you, kiss you.” 

True to his word, he was stroking the bare skin of Kirk's back where it met the curve of his ass, occasionally dipping his hand lower to squeeze and caress possessively. In the almost non-existent space between their bodies, he could feel Jim's arousal as he continued to speak.  

“Before long you ask me to move. I do so with care, but you are impatient, and push back against me. I move until I find the spot inside you that makes you cry out with pleasure. Then I take you in earnest. The feel of you is exquisite, your reactions are arousing beyond belief: you are simply perfection. I realise then that I am truly lost. No one could be to me as you are: I will never know pleasure like that with you."

Spock's voice was soft. “We move together as one towards our shared peak. Our cries echo around the empty bridge. You beg for more, and I respond, claiming you as my mate, my other self, my equal. As I move in you, faster, harder, you call out my name, and I yours. You thrust helplessly, mindlessly, into my hand and begin to come, your cries echoing around the bridge. I can feel your pleasure. It seeps through your skin like an earthquake and I am utterly helpless against my own climax, pulling you to me convulsively as I cry your name against your neck.” 

Spock broke off. His breathing was a little unsteady. After a long, long moment, Kirk drew back, and looked him full in the face. He took a unsteady breath in, then breathed out very slowly. “Okay.”  

Spock said, uncertainly, “It was merely – We need not –“ 

Jim pressed a finger to his lips. “Here’s what’s happening now. We’re going over there, and you are going to make good on that entire scenario, and I was listening extremely carefully, so don’t even think about missing anything out. Then we’re going to have a good long chat about any other scenarios you might have spent the last five years coming up with. Clear?” 

Moonlight streamed over the bay and into the window of their apartment. James Kirk never usually had trouble sleeping, but tonight he watched its glow creep across the end of their bed, before looking back at the sleeping Vulcan next to him. In the moonlight, he looked like a long-lost mythical creature: a sprite, an incubus, ready to vanish with the dawn.  

Jim shuffled closer until he could feel the warmth of his bedmate against his skin. He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want this perfect, unsurpassable night to ever end.  

He watched Spock’s eyelids flicker in sleep, his chest gently rise and fall. How had he got so lucky? Starfleet was giving him back the Enterprise, and fate, or God, or whatever deity watched over the life of starship captains, had given him this. His perfect partner. His soulmate. He had never imagined that there would be anyone like this for him. He had accepted the almost inevitable loneliness of his path many years ago. Had thought it would never change.  

He reached out a hand and gently nestled his fingers against Spock's where they lay on the bed, as if seeking proof of his reality. The Vulcan did not stir.  

Spock had fallen asleep with his arm around Jim, and only Jim’s own movement had dislodged it. He thought again of their evening. Of Spock’s confession of desire. He had honestly been naive enough to think that he knew this man. That Spock would be unable to surprise him, let alone render him almost speechless and unbearably aroused by only talking to him for a couple of minutes. 

Their sex after Spock’s confession was utterly unmatched in by any experience he had ever had. He had come in Spock’s arms, almost sobbing with the intensity of it, and entirely, completely overwhelmed. It was the kind of lovemaking he had never thought he could have. The kind he had never even allowed himself to admit to wanting. Total surrender to another. Complete trust, rewarded with maximal pleasure, and deep emotional release.  

Spock had been almost as affected, which  was probably contributing to the heaviness of his current sleep, as his subconscious sought to parse the events of the day.  

And they had years ahead of them. Years to grow this love, this trust, this bond, into something truly extraordinary. He felt his eyes misting again as he stared at the man before him. 

What did I do to deserve you?  

Spock was reviewing the last of his mission reports for command the following afternoon when Jim sighed from the opposite end of the table. He glanced up. Jim looked - despondent. Spock stared at his former captain in surprise. Jim’s mood had been buoyant to the point of near absurdity all day. He had not been able to so much as glance in Jim’s direction without receiving a smile which would rival a supernova, and had not been able to move within arm’s reach of him within being kissed to within an inch of his life.  

He was therefore more than a little taken aback by the slump of Kirk’s shoulders. He said, “Jim. Is all well?” 

Kirk looked up. “What? Oh, yes. I mean, yes, of course.” He ventured a half hearted smile. “Everything’s great.” 

Spock merely raised an eyebrow. Kirk sighed again. “I’m being illogical. I know that. I know. I’ll just – miss her, is all.”  

Spock said patiently, “Jim, to whom do you refer?” 

Jim pushed the padd across the table. On it, a schematic of the Enterprise was clearly visible. He said, “From Scotty. The refurb begins tomorrow. By the looks of it, they’re going to strip her to the bare bones and start again. I know, it’s good news. Really good. She’ll be all new. Basically, a new ship. But –“ he broke off, “God, I’ll miss the old one. I wish – I wish the last day hadn’t been such a rush. That I’d had a chance for a proper goodbye.” 

He gave his lover a wry grin. “I know. Not logical.” 

Spock said thoughtfully, ignoring his last comment, “If the refurbishment begins tomorrow, could we not say goodbye – today?”  

The turbolift doors opened, and Kirk took a slow breath before stepping out. The first thing that struck him was the blank viewscreen. No stars were visible in that usually vibrant rectangle of space. The second was the silence. There were no hushed voices, no beeps of responding control panels, no low hum of the ship’s engines. Just silence. The bridge lighting was dimmed. It looked abandoned. Kirk swallowed, and stepped down to the command chair, running his hand possessively along the backrest, allowing his eyes to roam the space before him. He heard the voices of his crew, remembered the times he had sat here, some of the proudest, and happiest, of his life.  

He said, and his voice was choked. “She was a great ship.” 

Spock had walked almost automatically to the science station. He said, with gentle certainty, “She will be again.” 

Kirk nodded. “I hope so. I really do.” He rounded the command chair, and sat. He loved this chair. He looked around. He hoped they didn’t do anything too radical with the bridge redesign. He liked this positioning in relation to the other stations – his eyes stopped at his former first officer. He smiled, some of his melancholy mood falling away. “Spock?” 

The Vulcan looked up from where he had been examining the science station. Kirk would have bet an awful lot that Spock’s thoughts about the redesign had been similar to his own. “Yes, Cap - yes, Jim?” 

Kirk’s smile widened. “Readings, science officer?” 

Spock looked at his former Captain, to his station, and back to Jim. “There are no readings. There is no power to the bridge stations. As you are aware.” 

Kirk leaned his elbow on the arm of the command chair, and rested his head on his hand, blinking at Spock. “Humour me.” 

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, but turned as requested and bent over the viewing scanner built into the station. Then suddenly turned, and levelled an accusing stare at his former captain.  

Kirk smiled innocently, and gave a 'carry on' wave.  

After a moment, Spock turned back, and in the voice of one not entirely sure he was executing a task correctly, said, “We are currently orbiting the third planet in the system. Sensors indicate it to be m-class, with a wide variety of life.” He became aware of movement behind him. As he would have done in reality, he reached to activate the overhead screen, to give the Captain a view of the readout. He began, “The atmosphere is -” As he did so, hands slipped around his waist, and there was suddenly a solid mass of warm human pressed against his back. He broke off in surprise. There was a light kiss pressed to his neck, then Kirk’s voice murmured, “Carry on. Don't let me interrupt.”  

Spock licked his suddenly dry lips. “The atmosphere is, er, nitrogen -” Kirk was kissing his way around Spock’s neck, “ - and oxygen, with – ahh” Kirk’s mouth had reached his ear. “Jim, you are being distracting.” 

“Mmmm. You know those inappropriate bridge thoughts we talked about? Well, I always wondered how you’d react if I did this. Think of it as – an experiment.” He pressed another warm kiss to the shell of Spock’s ear. “Carry on, Mister Spock. You were saying.” 

Spock took a steadying breath. “The planet’s population is approximately nine billion, including various orbital stations, and lunar –” Jim's hand had slipped lower. He drew a sharp breath. “Jim, we are on the bridge.” 

“See, it’s those razor sharp observational skills,” Jim’s hand had found the edge of Spock’s tunic, and the warm skin beneath, “that made you so valuable as a science officer.” He ran his hand lower, over the material of his trousers, and stroked against the length he found there.  

Spock drew a sharp breath.  

“Jim –“ Kirk’s other hand had slipped under his shirt and was toying with his chest.  

He took a breath and tried again. “Jim – oh.” Kirk’s lips brushed his ear.  

Kirk paused his gentle assault to whisper. “Five years, I had to look at you like this. Years of behaving myself. Of just looking. Of never touching.” 

Spock could feel a hardness against him, even through the material of Kirk’s clothing. His former captain began to move slowly, thrusting against him, even as he pressed a hand more determinedly against Spock’s groin, moving in that same slow but relentless rhythm.  

Spock could feel mastery of his physical responses slipping away with impressive speed. Beneath his convulsively tightening grip, a console switch snapped. Kirk’s voice said, husky with arousal, “Good thing we’re getting her refurbished.” He bent his head back to Spock’s ear.  

Many minutes later, as they appraised each other's dishevelled, damp appearance with dismay, Kirk cleared his throat. “You know, I bet I could talk that transporter tech into beaming us directly back to the apartment. If you’ve got the co-ordinates?”  

He looked hopefully at Spock.  

Late that evening, they were huddled together on the couch under the window, as Jim went over the plans for the new Enterprise for the hundredth time, making notes and corrections as he went, and bouncing ideas and changes off his former first officer, who had long since given up any attempt to read his own padd.  

Kirk was saying, “I don’t like this new bridge layout.”  

Spock's voice was mild. “The rationale for the new layout is well considered.” 

Kirk made a noise of disdain. “By someone who has never worked on a bridge. Look at this.” He pointed to the diagram. “If I want to see the science station from the centre seat, I practically have to stand up. The chair doesn’t even move!”  

“Jim, there is no necessity for you to be able to see the science station from the command chair. That is why you have a science officer.” 

Kirk frowned. “Of course I need to see the science station, I –“ On Spock’s expression, he stopped. “For good reasons. For sensible, command-related reasons.” 

Spock's eyebrow quirked.  

Kirk smothered a smile. “Oh, be quiet.” He went back to studying his padd.  

A few more minutes went by.  

Then Spock said, carefully, “Jim, I have been wondering. In what capacity do you wish me to accompany you on the new Enterprise?”  

Kirk looked up, and blinked. “Well, I was thinking first officer and science officer. Exactly what you did before.” He frowned. “Unless you’d like me to ask command for a science officer. I was thinking about that, it is a lot to –“ 

Spock raised a hand. “That was not my concern. I would be more than content to fulfil my previous duties.” He reached out, took Jim’s hand from where it rested against the padd, and entwined their fingers. “That is not what I was referring to.” 

Kirk looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Spock. “Oh.” 

Spock continued quietly, “If word of our relationship reaches ‘fleet command, I will be reassigned.” 

Kirk frowned. “We don’t know that for sure.” 

Spock took a breath. “We do. When your captaincy of the new Enterprise was confirmed, I contacted Admiral Nogura with a hypothetical situation involving unnamed crew. His position was quite clear. Whilst there is no objection to childless couples serving together on the same ship, he will not allow them to be in each other’s direct line of command. And certainly not - in the higher ranks.” 

Kirk lowered the padd. “He said that?” 

“He did.” 

“Damn.” After a moment of silence, he squeezed Spock’s hand where it lay in his own. “Well, that’s easy then, we just don’t tell him.” 

“Jim, he will find out.” 

“No, he won’t. Why would he?” 

Spock stared at him. “Because there will be over five hundred crew on the new ship. And their Captain and First officer will be sleeping together.”  

“Not in front of them.” 

“Jim -” 

“Why does anyone need to know?” Kirk’s tone was defensive. “It’s no-one's business.” 

Spock said patiently, “They will find out. However discrete we are, however careful. They will find out. Starships are too small for secrets to be kept. You know this.” 

“We can hide it.”  

Spock stared at him in disbelief. “Jim, we cannot.”   

“We managed it last time.” 

“That was entirely different.” Spock’s tone had risen slightly. “We had not embarked on a physical relationship. We were not certain of our own feelings. We did not know –” he broke off “I had not felt –” he stopped again.

Jim was watching him closely, brown eyes shadowed with concern.  

Spock finished quietly, “It will not be as easy as you imagine.” 

Jim sighed. “You’re right. I know you’re right. Now that we've - there'll never be a time when I don’t want this." He frowned. "But Spock, you're the best first officer in the fleet. By a goddamn light-year. I don't want anyone else. I want you. And I want the Enterprise. And I won’t -” Jim threw the padd onto the low table near their feet, “I won’t choose, dammit.” He made a noise of frustration. “I’m not prepared to accept there isn’t a way I can have you both.” 

He held out a hand. “Come on, it’s late. Come to bed. We'll talk about it tomorrow. There will be a way. We just need to figure it out.” 

Spock took the proffered hand, and rose with him.  

Jim said, on a sigh, “If all else fails we’ll have to pretend it’s the first cruise all over again, control ourselves, and just stare longingly at each other. God knows I ogled you enough anyway. I don’t think anyone will notice the difference.” 

They made love into the early hours of the morning. He had never imagined a relationship with someone so open, so expressive of their feelings. By the time Jim slept, curled against him in the dim light, he could still hear the whispered “I love you” that had been murmured against his skin as sleep began to claim his lover.  

To be together, but apart. To see him, touch him, but not to know his mind. Jim was asking for the impossible. He could not look on his t’hy’la and not love him, not touch his t’hy’la and not want him, not hear his voice, and not desire his mind. Everything inside him screamed for completion of their bond, consummation of their union. The emotions associated with Jim were overwhelming, terrifying in their intensity. He felt weak before them, child-like and frightened, as all of the logic and reason he had grown up with and relied on all of his life were helpless before the onslaught.   

I want you, and I want the Enterprise. I refuse to believe there’s not a way I can have you both.   

The vista of the bay lay in front of him, beautiful and calm, lit by stars and earth’s single moon. But he only had eyes for Jim. The starlight played across his sleeping form, outlining his naked form in shadows and soft silver. He was without question the most beautiful thing that Spock had ever seen. And behind the ephemeral physical beauty lay a mind – a soul – even more extraordinary and perfect. And his. His to touch, and hold, and glory in its mere proximity. He reached a trembling hand and touched Jim’s cheek, felt the warmth of his skin, the tingle of his meld points, tantalisingly close.   

There was a way. To give Jim what he wanted. It was a path Spock had once thought he would walk. Ironically, it had been Jim himself who had prevented it. HIs acceptance, his affection, for who Spock was – human and Vulcan - with all his flaws. Jim had never seen his flaws, had never cared about them. Had been his Captain, his friend, had loved him, in spite of them. It was a gift he had never truly imagined he would have. One that would stay with him for all of his life.   

And there was a way to give Jim a gift. Give him his heart’s desire. One that would surely bring relief from this emotional maelstrom.   

Kolinahr.   

He had mentioned it to Jim, once, not long after his time, and their trip to Vulcan. Jim had listened, brown eyes warm on his, as he had explained the concept and purpose. Jim had always listened. After Spock had finished, they had sat in silence for a while, then Jim had said, gently, “Well, I can certainly see the appeal, it does sound very – Vulcan. Very logical. But –“ he had stopped. “Spock, may I speak freely?” Spock had nodded, surprised that he would even ask. Jim had said, with some feeling, “No, Spock, no. For you? I think it’s a terrible idea. You’re talking about changing a fundamental part of what makes you who you are. As your friend, do you think I’d ever sign off on that? When the person in front of me right now is already perfect?”  

He had not often thought of Kolinhar since. But things were different now. They were no longer simply friends. They were more than friends, more than brothers, more than lovers. They were t’hy’la. In every sense of the word. Friends could stand apart, could appear to be indifferent to each other. T’hy’la could not. All the discipline of the service would crumble the first time Jim was hurt, or in danger. He could not control the passionate need, the fierce possessiveness, the sheer overwhelming love for this man. He would do anything, give anything, to keep Jim safe. He was - dangerous. To Jim, and to the ship. There was only one way he could ever be what Jim truly needed. Be his first officer. Be one half of the best command team in the fleet. Steadfast. Reliable. Calm. Not overwrought. Not emotional. Not - a lover.  

There was a way: Kolinahr.

He should wake Jim. He should speak to him of this.   

No. That was selfish. He wished Jim to wake to hear his voice, to see his smile, feel the touch of his hand, see those brown eyes filled with affection. For him. Jim would not, could not understand. Jim was not Vulcan. He would seek to persuade him to stay. And he, in this weakness, in the grip of these emotions, would do so. He had never been able to deny Jim anything. Especially not now, not like this.  

And he did not wish to force a choice upon his love. Us, or the Enterprise. For that, he well knew, was no choice at all. Jim had given up his entire life, his only son, in pursuit of this dream. Next to that, what could a relationship of such short duration signify? 

And he could not remain at Jim’s side without this being between them always: this love, this passion.  

Unless he removed it altogether.  

He slipped from the bed, moved quietly around the room. It took less than ten minutes to dress, and secure all his belongings back in his bag.   

Leave. Walk away now.    

He turned back to the bed. Jim had shifted slightly, his hand outstretched to the place Spock had just vacated. Seeking his lover, even in sleep.   

He could not simply – walk away. He had to explain, had to –  he walked to the desk. There was, as there sometimes was in old fashioned hotels, a pen and paper on its pale surface. He wrote for a few minutes, then stopped, placed the pen down and stood again. This was too much. He could not. A fierce trembling had taken hold of him.   

Leave. Walk away now.    

He sat again, wrote more. His vision was becoming blurred. He needed to leave before the strength to do so failed him utterly.   

He signed the page, stood again. Walked to the door.   

Leave. Walk away now.   

He turned back. With all that he was, he wanted to stay. Drop his bag, run to the bed, and take Jim in his arms. Kiss him. Hold him. Love and be loved. He wanted it so badly it hurt.   

He stood for a moment, memorising the sight. Jim, untroubled in sleep, lying in a bed that Spock had only just vacated, reaching for his lover. Reaching for Spock. My Jim. The body that had desired him. The mind that had accepted him. The heart that had loved him. And the soul that had sung to him of home. Of completion. Of T’hy’la. His vision blurred, and Jim disappeared.   

He turned, and walked away.  

 *

 

End of Part One