Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jim opened his eyes, fighting against an odd sense of déjà vu. He was in his quarters, so they must have gotten free from their prison on Triona IV. Recalling that when they’d been transported there initially it had taken a few minutes to remember what had happened, he closed his eyes again, trying to wait patiently for things to resurface, which became more difficult to do once he realised he was naked. And… sticky. And… so was the body he was touching beside him. Spock. He remembered them going to bed the night before... apparently they had decided, somehow, to do… well, whatever it was they had done. His heart pounded. He hoped Spock was all right: he could feel him breathing, but he hadn’t moved, and Jim didn’t want to startle him if he hadn’t woken up, or if he too was in the midst of trying to avoid panicking as he attempted to make sense of his thoughts.

Some of it was coming back. Spock’s low voice. “And what is it you have realised?” Jim heard it in his mind as clearly as if it had been said out loud. His eyes burned with overwhelming emotion and relief as more of his memories started to fit back into place.

His own voice, centimetres from Spock’s mouth. “What do you want?”

“Everything.”

Jim sucked in a shaky breath, chancing a look at Spock beside him. To his surprise Spock’s eyes were open, watching him. “I did not want to wake you prematurely,” he said.

Jim smiled. “I’d been thinking the same about you. Do you— how much can you remember…”

“It took approximately two point four minutes, during which time I experienced some unease, but now… everything,” he said, and Jim had the déjà vu feeling again. He propped himself up on his elbow to look at him better.

“Thank god.” Spock’s hair was something of a mess, not to mention the dried come on his hand and his stomach, the hair below his navel darkened and stuck together. He was probably fairly uncomfortable, and likely cold, too. Jim trailed his fingers up his side. “Well, as much as I think you look lovely like this, you probably want a shower. I must smell like I could use one, too.”

To his surprise Spock inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arm around his back. “You do, but I admit I find it somewhat… compelling.”

Jim laughed. “Good to know we’re both animals at heart,” he joked. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up so we can let the others know we’re back safe and it’s time to get the hell out of here.” Groaning, he dragged himself upright, and noticed their clothes were folded into two neat piles on the chair next to his bed, their boots lined up beside each other on the floor in front of it. “Huh,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows, shaking his head. He couldn’t respect the Trionans, not really, but he had to admit they were, to borrow a word, fascinating.

After a quick turn in the sonic and a few minutes of making themselves presentable (while Spock shaved at the bathroom sink, Jim patted foundation over his chin where it was noticeably pink from Spock’s rarely-seen five o’clock shadow, not wanting to draw more attention than necessary to the facts of the matter), Jim went to the intercom to get a hold of Scotty. “Bridge. This is the Captain. Is Mr Scott there?”

“Captain! It’s good to hear your voice.” Jim could hear Uhura’s smile as she answered. “Yes, he’s here— where are you?”

“We’re— I’m back in my quarters. Tell him I’ll meet him in briefing room two in ten minutes. Send Dr McCoy, as well.” Jim was assuming the two were already aware of the situation, given that the other couples had apparently been returned hours earlier, so he thought it’d just be best to get it over and done with so they could be on their way.

“Aye, sir.”

“And have my yeoman bring up a pot of coffee and some toast, if you don’t mind, Lieutenant,” he added, realising they had not had breakfast. “Thank you. Kirk out.” 

Spock had exited the bathroom into his own quarters for clean clothes, and now the door on Jim’s side slid open again as he stepped in, fully dressed with his hair perfectly in place, straightening his sleeves. “Captain,” he said in greeting, and for a moment it was as if they hadn’t been naked and covered in each other’s come twenty minutes earlier, but he saw the faint quirk at the edges of his mouth, as though they were sharing a private joke, and Jim smiled back, moving to put his boots on.

“Ready?”

“We ought not to delay any longer.”

“We won’t have to give anyone the specifics— it’ll be enough to know that… well, that we did what we needed to and that the change between us is desired entirely of our own free will.” They were professionals; Jim was sure Spock could handle it. Personally, he’d found what they’d had to report after being held prisoner on Ekos to be far more degrading and uncomfortable than this.

“Yes,” Spock agreed. 

In the briefing room, they were greeted by an agitated McCoy and a somewhat anxious-looking Scotty, neither of whom was sitting down. A tray with toast, fruit, boiled eggs, and a carafe of coffee sat on the table. “Captain, thank heaven!”

“Yes, it’s good to be back, Scotty— are the others aboard, safe?” Jim gestured for them to sit, and Spock took the chair next to him. Jim gratefully poured himself a cup of the coffee. As he took a sip, a part of him wondered wistfully if he’d have gotten a real cup from the Trionans had they stayed long enough for them to have been brought breakfast. The replicated stuff was caffeinated, and at least the smell was familiar, but it always tasted slightly weak and burnt, like something left on a warming plate too long at an old-fashioned diner.

“Yeah, last night, a few hours apart. They, uh—” Bones hesitated, obviously trying to decide whether to give Jim the details or let him wait for the officers' reports. “They explained in general terms what happened. Everyone seems to be all right. I gave all four of them a day’s leave… there’s nothing medically wrong with them, but I thought they could use a bit of time to themselves before they start having to deal with people asking them about it.”

Jim nodded. “Yes, I’ll have to speak to them again for our report, unfortunately.”

“Captain, what did they want with you and Mr Spock? We’ve got control of the ship again, we just didn’t like to leave orbit before getting your say-so. But whatever you did down there, it worked,” Scotty said.

Jim couldn’t help sharing a look with Spock, but apparently neither of them felt keen to be the first to tell them the truth. Dr McCoy, watching this exchange, broke the silence with a short bark of disbelieving laughter. “You didn’t—!”

Jim licked his lips. “We did.” Scotty’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. Spock stared resolutely at the wall between Bones’ and Scotty’s shoulders. The doctor’s laughter deepened, his head dipping toward where his arm rested on the table. Eventually he looked back up at them, but he still laughed a little as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Jim, but I’d give just about anything to be able to witness the look on the face of the admiral who ends up reading the report about the two of you and your cosmic fuck tape. Pardon my French,” he added.

“Bones!” Jim didn’t look at Spock, but he could practically sense his desire to roll his eyes. Jim, for his part, could feel his face reddening steadily.

“I said sorry, didn’t I?” He managed to compose himself. “Are both of you all right? They didn’t make you—” he looked alarmed suddenly, as if he’d only just considered this possibility.

“No, no, we’re fine, it wasn't like that,” Jim said. McCoy looked to Spock for confirmation.

“That’s correct, Doctor. The Captain and I agreed to the request of our own accord and in fact, have decided to continue to pursue a relationship of a personal nature.”

McCoy seemed remarkably unsurprised by this news, and laughed again. “It was that good, huh?” he said through his grin.

“Bones!” Jim said again, and then sighed, relenting. “Not that it's any of your concern, but we came to that decision beforehand.”

“Well, that’s a relief. It was getting to be pretty insufferable for the rest of us, having to watch two so-called geniuses act completely clueless with each other every damn day.”

Spock frowned and looked at Jim, who was also a little taken aback. With a questioning look Jim turned to Scotty, who held his hands up, shaking his head. “This is out of my jurisdiction,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr Scott,” Jim said, while glaring pointedly at Bones. “Well, looks like we can finally be on our way, and get back to mapping the rest of this system. Though I don’t imagine the Federation will be too eager to send any other ships back here, once they’ve gotten wind of our report.”

“Well, now, I don’t know about that,” Scotty began. Jim looked at him in surprise. “It’s the damnedest thing… one of my engineers was swapping out some depleted dilithium from the chamber matrix this morning, and while he was transferring them to hazmat storage, they vanished, just for a moment, and came back fully crystallized again.”

“And I suppose you made sure he hadn’t just picked up the new crystals by mistake?”

“Of course, sir, I had another engineer double- and triple-check how many we should have had, and they were all accounted for. These were the same crystals he’d just removed, for sure. It was like they’d never been used! But I don’t know of anything that can re-crystallize dilithium once it’s been used inside a reaction chamber.” He spoke with a sense of disbelief and amazement, but there was an underlying annoyance, as though it were a personal offence that someone had apparently altered the known physics of warp core technology.

“How many crystals did you say it was?”

“Three, sir.”

“And this happened when?”

“Oh, thirty, forty minutes ago. ‘Round the same time we got helm and engine control back.”

Jim nodded, looking at Spock. “I think now we know what the Trionans had in mind for their tokens of appreciation,” he said. Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed, Captain. Three crystals, three additions to the Trionans’ libraries… it seems… logical.”

“Well, we can debate over the ethics of the trade later. Doctor McCoy, Mr Scott, you may return to your duties. Mr Spock, please proceed to the bridge and have the helm take us out of orbit. And have, um, have communications locate Ensigns Brand and Holtzmann and contact them privately to come see me here.” This seemed kinder, rather than drawing further attention to them by using the intercom, if they were not in their quarters.

Scotty and McCoy acknowledged the request and got up to leave, and Spock, though he too had acknowledged his instruction, lingered behind. “It does seem a reasonable price to me, Captain… overall it could be considered little more than an exchange of knowledge and resources, something the Federation does value highly.”

“Well, we’ll see if the brass agrees with you,” Jim said, amused in spite of himself. “I’m not totally thrilled about the idea that there’s some kind of explicit recording of us in god knows what hands, but with dilithium mining being a somewhat ethical question in and of itself in many cases…” He trailed off. Who even knew if the Trionans would be interested in more of the same, or if the price would remain the same each time? “Well. We’d best get to it. I’ll see you later, all right? You can come by my quarters, if you want to.”

“Yes, Jim.” He turned to leave, and Jim started in on his now-cold toast while he waited for the two engineers to arrive.

Overall, the meetings with the two couples (separately, of course) hadn’t gone too badly. Brand and Holtzmann admitted they’d been a little out of sorts for the first few hours, trying to search for a means of escape or contacting the ship, but after the visit from Dr McCoy had had to admit those efforts seemed fruitless. Eventually, they decided to treat it like a hotel room, and then were able to mostly forget about the Trionans. “I don’t want to say too much, but… well… we haven’t really had the opportunity to be together away from the ship, as of yet, so…” Brand had trailed off a little awkwardly.

“I understand, Ensign. Sorry to have to bring it up.”

“It’s all right, sir. Oddly, I didn’t even feel that self-conscious, since they weren’t actually there with us, or anything. Or at least, not in any way we could see,” Holtzmann continued in his place. “Honestly, trying to be in a relationship during my first year at the academy was worse… having a roommate and all,” she said.

Jim nodded. “Yes, I wouldn’t care to relive those days, either,” he said, smiling in sympathy. “Well, thank you both for your report, and I’m… sorry you had to go through that.”

“Better than ending up in sickbay after a mission,” Brand replied as they stood up to leave.

“I won’t disagree with you there," Jim said, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Oh, one more thing, Ensigns, just out of curiosity... during your time on the planet, were you aware that anyone else had been captured?"

"No, sir," Holtzmann said. "Dr McCoy didn't say anything, and our captors certainly didn't, so we assumed we were the only ones. It wasn't until we got back that we heard otherwise."

"Understood," Jim said. "Dismissed."

The meeting with the Valdezes had gone similarly, as they, too, believed themselves the only ones taken captive. They admitted it had taken them awhile to grow comfortable with the idea of what they were being asked to do, knowing they were being observed. “I guess you might call it stage fright,” Pedro had said, smiling nervously as he glanced at his wife. “But… I don’t know, it could have been worse… I mean, we weren’t hurt, were we? And this doesn’t seem like it’s going to end up in any kind of interplanetary database, otherwise we would have heard about something like this before now, right?” His question seemed somewhat rhetorical, more a way of reassuring himself, but Jim nodded anyway.

“That’s a fair point.”

Mariela apparently agreed. “I even tried asking why they didn’t just look up already existing recordings of the sorts of things they were interested in, and they said that as non-telepathic beings, we wouldn't understand the difference. That was the only thing that kind of bothered me, was knowing they’d been in our minds…”

“Yes,” Jim said, though he realised, surprisingly, he hadn’t felt the same way. He’d been too concerned with what the communication was doing to Spock, and with regaining their freedom. “Well, thank you for the report, and please, don’t feel rushed to return to your duties. If you need more time, Dr McCoy or I will gladly grant it.”

They thanked him, leaving him alone in the briefing room again. He poured himself a second cup of coffee, and began his own report.

Several hours later, the door to the captain’s quarters chimed. “Come,” Jim said from his desk, where he’d been catching up on the previous day’s paperwork, and had just been considering pouring himself a drink. Spock entered the room, standing in parade rest. Jim smiled. “How’s my ship?”

“In Lieutenant Sharif’s capable hands for now. We have completed mapping of Triona V and its three moons and are now en route to the outer cluster of planets. I have also completed my report.”

“You didn’t do that while you were on the bridge, did you?” Jim asked. He couldn’t imagine Spock talking about such things in front of Uhura, or god forbid, Chekov.

Spock blinked. “Obviously not, Captain. I used briefing room three. I was only away from the bridge for eighteen point two minutes in order to complete it.”

“All right, forget I asked. We can compare them tomorrow. Are you hungry?”

“I have eaten recently with Ms Uhura, who noticed I used my lunch period for meditation, and insisted. But I will accompany you, if you like.”

“I had kind of a late lunch too, I’ll get something later. Come here,” Jim said, turning in his chair. Spock stepped in from the door, and Jim stood up, reaching to pull him closer, but stopped short on his way to kissing him. “Is this all right? We didn’t— talk about anything, really, there wasn’t time, and I don’t know what level of contact you’re comfortable with…”

“It is quite all right,” Spock said, his arms slipping around Jim’s shoulders. “We are in private, and off duty,” he pointed out.

“And those are the only restrictions if I want to kiss you?”

“I imagine there may be exceptions, but if others arise, I will keep you informed.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Jim said, leaning in. He felt a thrill as their lips met, partially the energy between them that had so surprised him earlier, but partially just the excitement of knowing they were here, together, wanted to be together. The kiss deepened, and Spock’s hand slid down Jim’s arm to touch his fingers, the shock of sensation reminding him of that morning, spreading a fire through him. Spock traced his middle and index finger lightly with his own as Jim’s tongue touched his, and it was hard to believe he could get turned on so quickly just from this, but it seemed he wasn’t alone, because as he pulled them together with his free hand, Spock moaned into his mouth. After a moment, Jim broke away from his lips, focusing on their hands. “What’s this doing for you? I remember feeling something like this this morning…” He mimicked the movements with his own fingers, running them over the fingerprints, down the sides, across the pads at the top of his palm. Spock groaned softly, his eyes closed.

“It is… Vulcan fingers are rather sensitive, as a conduit for psionic energy. Vulcan bondmates often touch theirs together, briefly, to check in on one another, or to show affection. Touching like this enhances my ability to sense your emotions, which increases the physical response, if it is sustained. It works in the reverse as well.” 

“You mean earlier, because your physical senses were already heightened during sex, you could sense more from me when our hands touched?” This knowledge was surprisingly arousing. He wondered what it felt like between Vulcans when they touched this way. Jim kissed the side of his neck, near the collar of his shirt.

“Mm— correct.” Jim laced his fingers through Spock’s, slowly, dragging them gently over the webbing between them, and he gasped.

“So what can you sense now?”

“You find this arousing.”

“Mm-hm,” Jim agreed, kissing his way back up to his jaw. “Anything else?”

“You— ah— are amusing yourself with inappropriate scenarios involving my hands.”

Jim laughed. “All right, guilty,” he said. He’d been considering what might happen were he to lay his fingers next to Spock’s and brush them gently back and forth as they rested on the arm of the Captain’s chair. “I wouldn’t actually try to turn you on on the bridge, you realise.”

“Clearly not, as I would have to report you for misconduct.” But the expression on his face was pleased, and it made Jim need to kiss him again, and soon he felt the edge of the desk at the back of his legs, their hands disentangled so Spock could hoist him up onto it, making room for himself between his thighs, pressing against him as they both started to get hard. Both hands now free, Jim set to the task of getting Spock out of his shirts, pulling away from his mouth to get them over his head, tossing them over the chair beside him as Spock kissed his neck.

“Computer, increase temperature twenty-two percent.” Usually he set the temperature twenty percent higher when Spock visited his quarters for chess or work, a compromise that was more comfortable for Spock without making Jim overheat, but if Jim was intending to get him naked, he didn’t want him to get cold. He wondered idly, as Spock undid the collar of Jim’s shirt, how long it would take before they’d want to spend time alone without getting their hands on each other immediately.

“Jim,” Spock said, having lifted his shirt off, cool fingers moving over his chest.

“Hmm?”

“I am finding your emotions somewhat contradictory. Your actions indicate you desire sexual activity to take place between us, and I can see that this does excite you, but there is also apprehension and confusion. If you do not wish for us to—”

“Oh no, no, Spock, I don’t want to stop,” Jim assured him, bringing a hand to his face. “It’s just— well, yesterday you were my friend, and my first officer, and now we’re on our way to having sex for the second time in twelve hours… I suppose I’m just thinking about the future, getting used to the change, that’s all.”

“I remain your friend, and your first officer,” Spock reminded him. “We do not need to rush.”

“No, that’s just it, it doesn't feel rushed, it feels natural. I think that’s the part my mind’s having trouble with. That this is new, and I should be more cautious, take it slow…” He thought of times in the past when the fervour of his own emotion had brought his metaphorical hand too close to the metaphorical fire and still, it never stopped his inclination towards seeing the best in people, what they might be for each other. Hopeless romantic, Bones had called him, more than once. It was kind of a misnomer: being hopeful was often the crux of it. Now, though— he felt so certain, and that was what he’d taken notice of. “But, well, what for, if we already know what we want? That we already have it, right here?”

“Yes…” Spock agreed, and tilted his head thoughtfully. Jim looked back at him, waiting for him to voice whatever it was. “There is something which… may provide further understanding, but it could prove overwhelming, if you are currently struggling with the nature of our relationship.”

“I’m not,” Jim insisted. “What is it?”

“I would like… I wish to share my mind with you. However, I understand that after our dealings with the Trionans, you may not appreciate another presence entering your mind. A meld puts you in an immensely vulnerable position, as a non-telepath, so you are completely within your right to—”

“Yes,” Jim said, cutting him off. The idea that Spock trusted him enough to let him see into his mind had his heart hammering in his chest. “Yes, Spock. I want that.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. But I think I better get off this desk before the edge starts to cut through my thighs.” Spock stepped back, and he hopped down. “And while I’m at it…” He sat down, taking off his boots and socks, then standing up to take his pants off as well, leaving just his briefs. Spock raised an eyebrow. “It’s warm in here,” he said, smiling, as he went to sit on the bed. Spock, after a moment of consideration, began to undress as well, and joined Jim on the bed.

“We can sit, or lie down, whichever you prefer, but it will be easiest for me to reach your qui’lari if we face each other.”

“I’ve done a lot of sitting today, let’s lie down.” Jim settled onto his right side with his head on the pillow, facing the middle of the bed as he made space for Spock beside him. It struck him how small this bed was— he had never shared it before. The realisation that every night he’d spent on this ship the past three years he’d spent alone, a fact he’d always accepted as simply part of his duty, seemed suddenly too sad for words. How much time they had already missed… 

Spock slid closer. “In order to show you my thoughts, this will be somewhat deeper than a surface level meld. I will not intentionally access memories you do not wish for me to see, but to avoid showing me anything like this accidentally, you may envision any mode of protection that comes naturally to you, such as placing them on an island with no means of access, within a locked room, and so on.” Though he spoke evenly, Spock seemed a little anxious, and Jim knew it wasn’t only he who would be vulnerable when their minds met.

Jim had never experienced a meld before, though he’d witnessed Spock use the technique on a few occasions. However, it was usually a last resort, sometimes when they’d had no idea if it would hurt him or even if it would work (like with the Horta, and Nomad), and he’d only seen him do so to one other human, the circumstances surrounding which had not been pleasant. So while Jim felt no need to keep parts of himself from Spock, he didn’t want to expose him to anything that would make him feel bad. He nodded, and closed his eyes, imagining a storage chest lined with velvet cloth. Carefully he placed inside his grief over Sam, and Gary, and Edith; his awful memories of Tarsus, some of which Spock knew about, but Jim didn’t want him to have to see how bad it was; the faces of all the officers under his command who’d lost their lives in the line of duty. If Spock wanted to know these things, Jim would share them, but it didn’t seem like the right time. He closed the box and imagined himself locking its hasp, placing the key in his pocket, taking a moment to clear his mind of the painful associations. 

“All right, I’m ready. Wait…” Jim leaned forward, kissing him softly on the mouth. “Okay, now I’m ready.” He closed his eyes again, and felt Spock’s fingers touch his face with a light, specific pressure.

“My mind to your mind… your mind—”

“—to my mind,” Jim finished the words with him, inside his head, as he felt a strange clarity, a blissful emptiness, before he was able to return to his own thoughts. He could feel Spock’s presence, gently and curiously pushing against his consciousness. “Oh… Spock,” he felt himself say, in the space their minds were sharing. It was so easy to have him there, to feel him, and Jim suddenly wanted to show him everything. All his favourite memories of Spock started to surface, and he felt Spock’s mind stagger a little as the thoughts whirled around them, sparkling with the love Jim hadn’t realised was woven throughout each one. Dimly, he became slightly more aware of his body, of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Spock hadn’t said it, exactly, but Jim felt it nonetheless. And though the Vulcan word was foreign to him, he knew its meaning because Spock knew it, and he doubted Spock would ever say it out loud, but it didn't bother him. Jim wasn’t much for endearments either. It was enough that he could see now how it was in everything Spock did, every time he said Jim’s name: beloved.

“Jim… you do not need to show me only that which you think I will find complimentary,” Spock said, the words dancing with a laughter Jim had never heard out loud in real life, and his soul leapt to feel it.

“But I can’t think of anything about you I don’t like.” Jim wanted to clothe himself in the feeling of Spock’s mind: orderly and smart and protective as he knew him to be in life, cool and smooth like a river stone, veined brightly with his dry humour and powerful curiosity. It was delicious, the most wonderful thing he had ever known. “Spock, it— I feel so good with you here. What did you want to see?”

“You, Jim. You are showing me yourself. It is— you are so beautiful. This is… overwhelmingly exquisite,” he said, now sounding slightly less ordered. “I will show you yourself as I see you.” He felt a pull in his mind, and he followed the trail of Spock’s thoughts.

Slowly, he was surrounded by a warm, golden energy. It moved like a murmuration of starlings, unpredictable, yet perfectly in sync at all times, a work of living art. It rang with laughter, filled the shared mind-space with a thoughtful, yet unashamed joy, a gentle and quiet power. He could feel the way Spock was drawn to it, was awed by it, cradled it within him. “That’s me?” he asked, disbelieving. This beautiful thing could not be himself. 

“It is your mind, Jim, the way I experience it when I am with you. It is indescribably lovely to be with you in life, but to be inside your mind feels…” he paused, and Jim felt him gasp, a distant, quiet sound of pleasure beside him in the bed. “Oh, Jim— the way our consciousnesses accept one another, so comfortably, so readily… I— I must resist joining us too deeply…”  

He heard the wonder, the appreciation in Spock’s words, felt the pleasure this knowledge gave him, and Jim's own consciousness rose up to meet it, licking at it with insistent tongues. “Why? Why shouldn’t you go deeper if we both want it?” It struck him suddenly that this was all seeming rather sexual, and the thought was both amusing and arousing. Spock sensed this from him and seemed to agree; Jim felt the laughter in his mind again, along with something more primal, and his arm, in the space where their bodies still existed, reached to pull Spock closer.

“It is not… dissimilar in that regard,” Spock admitted. “This is not always the case, but within a meld the desire to know one another can be quite powerful. And I suspect the joining of our minds is further coloured by the attraction we feel for each other.” Jim could feel heat pooling in his groin, and Spock, sensing it within him, thrust his hips forward. Jim moaned as their bodies made contact, and wasn’t sure if the sound came from his mind or his mouth or both. “To answer your question, too deep a joining, when our minds so strongly desire this connection, to share this compatibility, could result in a bond. Such things should not be undertaken lightly, as they are not easily undone. There is a possibility of damage to your human mind, if I were not careful. And I currently do not feel… the necessary levels of control.”

“So, essentially… you’re so horny for my mind you’re worried you might accidentally marry us?” Jim teased.

“That is a rather crude way of putting it. And your own consciousness is hardly an innocent bystander.” Spock’s indignance was tinged with amusement. God, how Jim loved him. It was so very obvious now, he wondered how they’d managed to stay so blind to it before. 

“Mm, you’re right,” Jim said. “I do want more of you, I love feeling you in me… but yes, we can wait. I can wait.” It was difficult to think logically amid the undulating beauty of their mental connection, swirling silver and gold lit with affection that seemed to warm him from within. But Spock appeared firm on this, and Jim didn’t want to push.

“I can show you one more thing, if you desire.” Jim could sense his excitement, and he followed the pull of Spock’s thoughts again.

“Yes, anything.” There was a strange feeling as Spock led them on, kind of like when the gravity kicked back in after being in an anti-grav chamber, or like the few times Jim had ridden a roller coaster, feeling his stomach drop in freefall. “What’s happening?”

“We are moving slightly further into your mind… do not worry.”

“I’m not,” Jim said, knowing it was true, because Spock would never do anything that would make him unsafe. He found himself looking into what resembled a library: clean and warmly lit, beautiful, ornate; filled floor to ceiling with books. Jim was sure he had never seen this place before, but it was so familiar. He felt as though he could live in it. “Oh,” he said, in awe of how this fantastic place could exist in his mind. Spock’s fond laughter filled him again.

“It does not, as such, exist. I chose a form that would feel pleasant and comfortable to you.”

“It’s wonderful. What is it?”

“This is the place where we would share consciousness, if we were to bond. Where our minds would always be connected, even without a meld.”

“‘Parted from me and never parted’...” Jim recalled.

“Yes,” Spock said, pleased. “Currently we cannot touch what is in this room, but one day we may choose to.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to laugh. “Of course, we just need a— a library card,” he said, remembering the old way those sorts of places functioned.

“That is one way of understanding it,” Spock said.

“How are we here, then, if it doesn’t really exist, and we’d need to bond in order to make use of it?” Jim was still taking in the space with wonder, peering into its depths, but he felt a little out of his element. Spock clearly had a lot of knowledge about the inner workings of the mind, whereas Jim did not.

“This is simply a representation of the connection we have forged between ourselves. Though we cannot know what it looked like to them, I believe it must have been this which the Trionans saw when they were selecting partners from the Enterprise.”

“So why didn’t we notice it? Before?”

“We did, Jim. But we chose to see it as something other. I believe it would still have flourished as it was, but, although I do not respect their methods, they were correct that we will experience a greater depth of feeling now that we have chosen to acknowledge it.”

“I see,” Jim said. He found it was growing more difficult to pull his attention away from the room.

“Yes… we must go now. The longer we stay, the harder it will be to resist its draw.” Reluctantly, Jim tore himself away and followed Spock back up to the space they’d been in before. “I will break the meld now, slowly. You may feel disoriented, but I will do my best to minimize these effects. Jim… you have honoured me beyond words to allow me this. Thank you.”  

“Spock,” Jim laughed, “don’t act like I was doing you a favour. This is incredible, I never want us to leave.” He felt Spock’s happiness at hearing this, a tingling joy tinged with hunger, desire.

“We must,” he answered, and Jim felt the silver-gold warmth fade from around him, and his eyes opened in confusion to his own quarters around him. His heart was beating fast, and he tried to even out his breathing. Gradually, he took in the fact that he and Spock were tangled together, Jim’s leg thrown over his thigh, both of them iron-hard, grinding against each other.

“Fuck…” Jim gasped, realising he was in real danger of coming with his briefs still on, and he pulled away slightly. “That was…” He couldn’t seem to find any words, but it didn’t matter.

“Indeed.” Spock was also breathing hard, and still had his eyes closed. “Jim, I need—”

“Oh, yes,” Jim hissed, shifting to get his underwear off, and beside him, Spock did the same. It was obvious they were both too far gone for any of the thoughtful foreplay and preparation of that morning, and once they were both naked, Jim pressed a desperate kiss to his mouth. “Here, let’s try this… turn around,” he said, and Spock flipped to his other side, letting Jim pull him close, his back against Jim’s chest. Jim guided his cock between his legs, the head pressing against his perineum, where testicles would be on a human, precome making it slide more easily as he started to move. “Is that good?”

“Mmh— yes,” he groaned, and Jim immediately reached his hand forward to take hold of his cock, spreading his natural lubricant with his palm, moaning a little as he let the movements of his hand match his thrusts. It was ungodly hot, knowing how turned on he’d gotten from being inside Jim’s mind.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me… so wet…” he whispered near his ear, his lips and teeth finding his neck, his shoulder. Spock’s eyes were closed as he made soft but desperate noises of pleasure, his fingers near his mouth, lightly touching his lower lip. Jim let go of his cock when he noticed this, and reached for his hand, pulling it toward him, plunging his middle and index finger into his mouth before returning his hand to stroke him again, picking up the pace a little.

Spock’s head tilted backward in his surprised enjoyment, moaning with the multitude of sensations. Jim made a muffled noise of satisfaction around his fingers as he sucked them. He felt the orgasm he’d held at bay starting to build within him once more, his cock sliding against him perfectly as he felt Spock clamp his thighs tighter. Spock’s hand moved, pulling his fingers back, then pushing in again, Jim moving his tongue around them. The knowledge that Spock was fucking his mouth with his fingers as Jim fucked him between his legs, the head of his cock just reaching the base of Spock’s as he thrust forward, brought him embarrassingly close to the edge, and he tried to slow down in case Spock needed more time, but at this Spock made an annoyed grunt and pushed back against him insistently, encouraging him, so apparently that was not the case.

“Oh— I cannot—” Spock was saying between moans and gasps of pleasure. “Ah— yes, please— do not stop,” he managed to deliver firmly, as Jim returned to his previous pace, moaning around his fingers as his eyes fell closed, giving himself over. It wasn’t long before he felt the first spasms of his orgasm, his breath hot and fast out his nose, trying not to lose his focus on Spock as he came, semen hitting his own hand and wrist, spreading over his cock and between Spock’s thighs as he continued fucking him through it, which he could tell from the sounds Spock was making turned him on, and as his own movements began to slow Jim felt him stiffen further beneath his hand. “Oh— Jim…!” he gasped unevenly, and in his post-climactic haze Jim thought that there could be nothing better than this, that he would gladly make Spock come every day of his life if he wanted it, and he was thrilled that they had so many days ahead of them, the thought bringing a pleased hum to his lips as Spock thrust his fingers into his mouth, coming hard over his hand (and likely across the sheet as well, but Jim wasn’t concerned with that at the moment). Gradually he relaxed, too, and he slid his fingers out from between Jim’s lips, guiding his hand away from his cock.

Jim exhaled heavily, wet lips dotting kisses across Spock’s shoulder as he lifted his head a little, opening his eyes to look at him. His eyes were still closed, lips parted as he breathed through his mouth, his face flushed. He looked absolutely undone, and Jim had never seen anything more beautiful. He leaned over, kissing him on the cheek near his ear. Spock hummed in response, his eyes still closed, but his mouth relaxed into a slight smile, which brought one to Jim’s face, too. “Don’t move, I’ll be back in a second.” Carefully he released himself from their embrace and made his way to the bathroom, washing his hands and running a cloth under the warm tap to clean himself off afterwards. He returned to the bed with the cloth. Spock’s eyes were open now, and he reached to take it from him. “I can do it, if you want,” Jim said. Spock raised an eyebrow, but he let his hand fall back, bending his upper leg at the knee. Gently Jim swiped the cloth over his inner thighs and between his legs, tossing it on top of the stain on the blanket beside him when he was finished. He could worry about changing it later.

Spock rolled onto his back and pulled Jim down in his full weight on top of him. “Oof,” Jim said, laughing against his neck as he worked to prop himself up. “This can’t possibly be comfortable.”

Spock’s arms wrapped around his back. “I assure you it is.”

“I always knew you were a strange creature,” he said, teasingly.

“Our differences can be a source of beauty and strength,” Spock said, with what seemed a slightly facetious defensiveness, but then appeared pensive. “There is a Vulcan ideology you may know which encompasses this… IDIC,” he continued, and Jim remembered, saying it with him.

“‘Infinite diversities in infinite combinations’.”

“Precisely.” 

Jim couldn’t resist giving him a quick kiss on the mouth. “Mm, I think I like this combination just fine.”

“Previous evidence indicates that ‘just fine’ is a rather understated description of your emotions towards me.”

Jim huffed in amusement, looking down at his face. “Are you going to call me out every time I try to say something sweet?”

“Indeed not. Only when logic forces me to question the accuracy of such a statement.” He gave what Jim had come to recognise as the Spock equivalent of a smirk, and Jim laughed, his chest and abdomen expanding against Spock’s, settling into his arms.

“I'll choose my words more carefully in the future.”

"You will not, as humans often speak without considering the most appropriate phrasing. Additionally, you enjoy allowing me to correct you." Jim could feel the low reverberation of his voice where their chests were pressed together. 

"Stop doing that," Jim laughed again.

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Reminding me you know what I'm feeling. You've got an unfair advantage." But he was still smiling, and he knew Spock could tell he didn't actually mind. Faintly, Jim felt a sense of amusement and a deep comfort and satisfaction that didn’t belong to him, and he guessed it was not as easy for Spock to send his own emotions through touch as it was for him to receive them from others. Jim squeezed him a little to let him know that he’d gotten the message.

"I apologise. I am still restoring my shielding, and I may remind you it is as a direct result of your actions that it was weakened to begin with."

"Mm, is that your way of saying I fucked you senseless?"

"That is not entirely accurate, as it is my ability to suppress the effects of my touch telepathy that has been affected by the intensity of our encounter."

"Ah. An important distinction," Jim said, amused and more than a little pleased with himself. He was quite trapped with Spock's arms around his back, but managed to reach his fingers up around his shoulder to run through his hair. "I enjoyed myself quite a bit, too, you know."

"That much was clear," he said dryly, making Jim laugh into his neck again. He continued more softly. "I am glad of it, Jim."

"Mm," Jim agreed. "So, seeing as we both liked it so much, are you going to want to get inside my mind every time I want to get into your pants, now?" he asked lightly. "Or will that be only for special occasions, like after the next time we're made to perform indecent acts for a bunch of telepathic voyeurs?"

"I do not require our minds to be joined in order to properly appreciate our sexual activities," Spock answered, in a false tone of offence Jim was familiar with. "And I believe it highly unlikely that such a unique situation would be repeated."

"Don't go saying things like that, Spock, you'll jinx it."

He sighed, seeming thoughtful. "Humans have a remarkable number of superstitions surrounding things that occur largely by chance and circumstance."

"Yes, you'll have to forgive us for trying to pretend we have some level of control in a largely indifferent universe."

"We do have control... over some things."

"Like the way you're illogically letting me crush you with my body?"

"It is not illogical. You are sharing your body heat and affection with me. And I do not find you to be particularly heavy."

Jim chuckled, and kissed his neck. "Well, good, because I've gotten comfortable now."

Spock hummed his approval. "You will, however, need an evening meal at some point soon."

"Yes, probably," Jim conceded, realising he was getting a little hungry. "But not yet."

"No," Spock agreed, as his fingers moved up and down Jim's back. "Not yet."