Work Text:
“Would you like another?” Jim asked, his face open and nonjudgmental. He was handsome and real—oh god he had been real the whole time—and Spock’s tired brain felt like it was going to short circuit.
“No, thank you.” Spock said, and they rushed back to the console to get Scotty and Ortegas out.
That night, after a long talk that Spock believed strengthened their friendship, Spock tried and failed to sleep. He allowed his mind to go back there, to that moment of the slap. Jim’s palm on his face. Jim’s eyes on Spock’s face. Jim’s mind so close to his mind. “Would you like another” Jim had asked and yes, Spock thought, he did.
On Sesnsa, Jim (who was not a hallucination) had asked him if he might be gay, and alone in his quarters Spock contemplated it. It was true what he had told Jim, his relationships with women had all be failures. Even La’an, even now. The sex had been good—especially with La’an—but there had been no emotional connection there. No possibility of a deeper bonding. With T’Pring he had assumed it was his human half holding him back. With Christine they had coasted far on the thrill of an illicit flirtation. She had realized before him that it wasn’t sustainable. It had been so hard, both the trying and the failing, and even now it felt like a wound in his psyche that she had left him.
And now, La’an. The sex was extraordinary, certainly the best he had experienced. She had recognized something in him, something that matched something within her, and she had acted accordingly. She was so efficient, taking what she wanted from him. And for his part, Spock loved being used by her. He loved when she told him exactly what to do, when she commanded rather than asked. The first few times they had intercourse he had felt drunk on her, but that too was already fading. He didn’t expect it to last much longer. He longed for something deeper, and La’an did not, and so they could never be compatible in that way.
As he reflected on it, Spock thought that Jim had a good point that he had not attempted any sort of romantic relationship with a man. But, he also thought, genitals seemed irrelevant to his attraction. Yes, thus far his attempts had been with women, but Spock didn’t think that meant anything.
Jim though, Jim was not a woman. Jim was not a woman and Spock wanted him. He wanted him differently, perhaps more, than he had ever wanted anyone. Was that a physical attraction, or a mental one? Surely the mental aspect could not be dismissed. After the meld, and before it if he was honest with himself, Spock had longed to connect with him. He had thrown himself into work and La’an and anything else rather than think about Jim, but he had to admit it was there. A kernel of something. A desire. A hope.
“Do you want another?” Jim had asked, and Spock wanted it all. Another mind meld, another hug, another brush of their hands together. Spock had never wanted to plunge into someone before—the idea had seemed distasteful—but with Jim it was appealing. More than that, it was magnetic, a need.
He resolved that he would talk to Jim in the morning.
Jim found Spock alone in one of the smaller mess rooms, eating an orange and staring at his padd.
“Spock!” Jim said, standing and gesturing to the chair beside him, “I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”
“I found myself wishing to speak to you,” Spock replied, pulling his own meal from the replicator. “It feels of utmost importance.”
“Speak away,” Jim smiled and opened his arms, and for a moment Spock thought he intended it to be a hug. Then, he realized that Jim was gesturing that he was open to communications. His years in Starfleet had taught Spock much about human body language, but often it still seemed a mystery to him.
“I would like to attempt another meld. And also, I would like to have intercourse with you.”
Jim, who had just taken a sip of his drink, choked. His facial expression shifted multiple times, and then he simply replied, “okay.”
“Excellent. Is now an acceptable time?”
Jim looked around at the empty room, at his half eaten meal, and then nodded. “You know what? Yeah. It is.”
As they walked through the corridors their hands would brush, and Spock could feel a tingle of anticipation from Jim at the connection. Anticipation, lust, curiosity, and a deep fondness that Spock did not know how to interpret. On the turbolift, Jim openly held his hand, his fingers running up and down Spock’s own and causing all the hair on his body to stand on end.
“Are you aware that hands can be an erogenous zone for Vulcans?” Spock said, his voice shaky.
“Yeah,” Jim laughed, sliding his fingertips over Spock’s palm. “You like this, don’t you?”
Spock held back a whimper, and stopped the turbolift. He pulled Jim close to him, close enough that he could surely feel his erection, and buried his face in his shoulder. Slowly, with plenty of time for Spock to stop him, Jim pushed him against the wall. For a moment Spock thought he was going to kiss him, which would not have been unwelcome, but instead Jim took his pointer finger and touched Spock’s lips.
“Open,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. Spock did. He took Jim’s finger into his mouth and ran his tongue over the calluses, over his knuckles, and he sucked. “Would you like another?” Jim asked, and then said “oh yes you would,” and put another finger in his mouth, and another, until Spock was sucking hungrily on three fingers. Jim stroked his tongue and moved his hand back and forth, back and forth. He was fucking Spock’s mouth with his hand, and Spock nearly lost his balance as he realized. He could feel Jim’s mind—shining, thrilling, thrilled—and he wondered if their connection was already strong enough for Jim to feel his. Spock could feel that his sheath had opened and his lok had emerged, hard and sticky and wanting wanting wanting.
Someone banged on the lift door, and Jim abruptly stepped away from him. The lift started again, and Spock fought for his composure.
Five minutes later they were closing the door behind them as they entered Spock’s quarters. Spock’s control was gone, and he saw no reason to fight for it. He pushed Jim onto his bed and kissed him deeply. He moved to his neck, sucking on a spot near Jim’s ear that made him writhe.
“You’re hungry for it,” Jim said, smiling. He was always smiling, wasn’t he? Spock wanted to catalog those smiles and write up descriptions of them all until he was certain which ones were just for him. “Give me your hand.”
Spock complied, because he wanted nothing else but to comply with Jim’s every want. He wanted to be a vessel of his pleasure, to fill and be filled by him. Jim kissed each fingertip, then licked them, and then sucked on them. It wasn’t the needy, frantic sucking Spock had done in the lift; it was slow, methodical, and perfectly designed to drive him insane.
“Please…” he didn’t hold back his moan, “Jim…”
“Take off your pants then,” Jim said, shedding his own clothes. “Let me see you.”
Spock did, and he trembled as Jim’s lithe body moved against his. He was smooth, practically hairless, and Spock wanted to touch him everywhere.
“Go on then,” Jim said, sliding his body along Spock’s, “touch me.” So Spock did. He touched Jim’s back, he ran his fingers through his short hair, he caressed the smooth curve of his ass. He hesitated over the meld points on his face, but Jim smiled and nodded so he didn’t hold himself back. Without even saying the words they were one, gasping together at the intimacy of it.
Sharing minds like this while naked together, nothing separating them, felt extraordinary. The feeling resonated between them, echoing and growing. Spock could felt his body moving, could feel Jim’s body moving, and he could hear the little gasps and moans they were each letting out. He couldn’t tell who was who, or what was what—all he knew was the hazy feeling of pleasure and togetherness and communion.
They didn’t pull apart for quite some time. Spock would have preferred to stay like that always, but both he and Jim knew there were other duties to attend to and as time passed each of their minds became restless. He pulled back, and Jim pulled back, and for a moment his vision doubled as he saw both through his own eyes and through Jim’s eyes, and then it settled again.
“That was exactly what I wanted after our first meld,” Jim confessed, his hand still on Spock’s cheek. “To quote you, I have to say… that was fascinating.”
“And quite messy.” Spock looked down at the mess between them, where his bed was ruined with fluids.
“Yes, well, what can I say…” Jim scooped up some of the mess from Spock’s thigh and licked it, sending off sparks of arousal along Spock’s exhausted nerves. “I don’t know what to say, really, I just wanted to see your face when I did that.”
“I hope I met your expectations,” Spock said, trying for a bland, emotionless response, but if the soft look on Jim’s face was any gauge he was failing.
“More than.” Jim hugged him, then kissed him gently on the lips. “In the meld, I felt you wanted more. More than just sex.”
There was no point in hiding it. “Yes.”
“Then we’ll try. I can’t promise you much. You know me, you know my patterns.” Spock nodded. Between the mind melds and their long conversations, they certainly did know one another. He knew Jim struggled with relationships, particularly anything that might come between him and his career. Logically, they were not well matched.
Spock did not care.
“You know,” Jim said as he got up to clean himself and dress, “sometime in the future people will ask how we got together and I’m going to tell them the truth.”
“That we found our minds to be compatible and from there it was inevitable that we explore the romantic and sexual aspects of our connection?”
“No, that you walked up to me in the mess hall, said ‘wanna fuck’ and then took me back to your room and literally fucked my brains out.”
“That was not what happened!” Spock sat up quickly, concerned. “I did not use such foul language. And your brains are literally within your skull, I am certain of it.”
“Honey,” Jim laughed and leaned down to kiss him again, “I know. I’m exaggerating for effect.”
“Hmm. Perhaps a story closer to the truth might serve better.”
“What do you suggest, Mr. Spock?”
“I told you I desired intercourse and you climaxed all over my bed without me laying a finger on your genitals.”
“Well, that is true, you’ve got me there,” Jim said. “Maybe next time I’ll have the time to fuck you before you drive my mind into ecstasy.”
“You may have to tie me down,” Spock replied, licking his lips and envisioning it. “I am quite unable to control myself around you.”
“Hmm, yes, that might work. I do like the idea of you being at my mercy…” Jim handed Spock his clothing, then kissed him again. “I think this is the start of something wonderful,” he said.
“Yes,” Spock agreed, “I believe it is.”