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Captain Kirk proudly entered the room, surveying the diverse crowd before him. His stiff blue jacket was impeccably brushed, his shirt white and elegantly frilled at the collar, and his boots bore his manly stride with solid competence. He smiled at those he met, proud to command the finest ship that ever sailed the salty seas.

Actually, Cadet Jim Kirk had borrowed these clothes, and he had just walked into a Halloween party. Someday, he hoped he really would captain a ship, but for now, he was just a Starfleet Academy student with a geeky passion for historical adventure who had decided to spend the evening at yet another icebreaker. It was a month and a half into the semester--his first season in San Francisco--and he had indeed met many interesting new people, but he still hadn't met anyone with whom he genuinely clicked.

The room was dimly lit and the illumination spotty, colored, and moving. As he moved through the crowd, he wished he could see the costumes of his fellow celebrants more clearly. He wondered if anybody else was dressed in period garb; women's costumes of the Age of Sail had tight bodices which displayed the feminine accoutrements to fine advantage.

The music was loud and thrillingly rhythmic, and it made him want to dance, but the room was so crowded that he could barely tell who was with whom, and who was alone and available for a flirtation. He bobbed to the music subtly and passed slowly through the molasses of the feathered, beaded, and masked group of dancers.

He moved without direction, and found himself approaching the back of a guy in ordinary black formal wear. The thought flitted through his head that it seemed like not much of a costume--that is, until the guy turned to face him. Wow! A Vulcan! Now *that* was a creative costume. And of course, the lights were dim and flashing weirdly, but from what Jim could see it seemed like a pretty convincing make-up job.

He was very attractive. Suddenly Jim wasn't thinking about Marie Antoinette anymore. He opened his mouth to ask the other man if he wanted to dance, especially because the guy had looked a little bit lost and possibly intimidated in the crowd, but when he leaned his head closer to be heard over the music, the other spoke first. "Early nineteenth-century American naval officer?"

Jim blinked, surprised. "Yes!" he beamed, smiling. He was stunned that someone else at this party could identify the origins of his meticulously constructed costume.

"It resembles those I saw in a painting earlier today," the other man explained, "in a museum."

"I like you already," Jim quipped. He eyed the simple black suit, the pointed ears, the exotically slanted eyebrows. "Vulcan?"

The other man nodded. "This is my first Academy party. I have only been here fifty-five days."

"This is my first year here, too," said Jim sympathetically. "Hey, d'you want to dance with me? I'm the captain of the ship, you know." He winked.

"Will the Acts of War permit it?"

Jim's jaw dropped. Though the other man's face hadn't betrayed the slightest hint of amusement, he had just said something incredibly funny--and the best part of it was that Jim would have bet that he, the naval history buff, was the only person in the room who would have gotten the joke. "That's British. I'm American, remember?"

Their bounces to the music moved them closer to each other. Jim held the other man's eyes with his gaze, thinking for a moment how unusually large and gleaming they were. He wondered if that were simply an illusion due to the false eyebrows. "That's a great costume. You look great in it."

"Thank you," said the other man shyly, clearly flattered, if slightly confused.

"The best part is that you really have the Vulcan facial expression down pat," Jim continued, sidling slightly closer forward. "You must be the calmest person in here!" For some reason, his comment seemed to unnerve the man slightly, at which point he suddenly remembered he hadn't yet introduced himself. "I'm Jim, by the way. Jim Kirk--I'm from Iowa."

"My name is Spock. My mother is from Chicago."

"Ah." Jim nodded. "No wonder you like museums. I bet you grew up going to the Field Museum all the time."

"Iowa's landlocked. Why the navy?" Spock observed.

"Love sailing--ocean or space. Can't wait to get back in space."

"Back?"

"Yes, I--"

At this point, the lights dimmer further and changed to a mix of purples and blues. The hyper beats of the music melted into a mellow ballad with deep bass, and the teeming mass on the dance floor coagulated into couples.

Spock seemed a bit unsure, but Jim gently took hold of Spock's upper arms with both hands. He leaned his head closer to Spock's ear where he knew he'd be heard without shouting, and said, "I love to slow-dance." He moved his arms around Spock's body and held him in a comfortable embrace.

Tentatively, Spock's arms came up around his back in response. "It is relaxing," he said into Jim's ear, tickling it slightly. It made Jim shiver.

Spock didn't actually seem relaxed at all--beneath Jim's hands, his body felt like a hardened, tightened muscle. Jim ran his fingers up and down Spock's spine, and accepted the trembling it elicited as a minor victory.

The sweet moment lasted a short while longer, and then the pace of the music picked up again. Without moving away from Spock again, Jim began to grind his body suggestively, playfully. As Spock got used to this, Jim turned around in his arms, so that his back was to him. He pulled Spock's arms around his waist and held the other man's hands comfortably across his belly.

Jim smiled into the orange and yellow disco lights. He was aroused and happy--and the pleasant bulge he could feel against his ass indicated that Spock was having fun as well. He shimmied against it, wondering if his tight, cream-colored navy costume trousers were making his erection obvious to the rest of the room.

Confident that anyone who shocked easily wouldn't be at this particular party, Jim let himself fill to full arousal. He encouraged the sensation by concentrating on Spock's hard penis, thinking about how badly he wanted to turn around and touch it. At the same time, he was enjoying feeling it nudging his ass, and wanted to feel it there as long as he could. The music's heavy, dense beats and Spock's subtly squeezing hands on his stomach energized his gyrations further, and he could feel the other man's warm breath creeping across his neck.

The song ended and blended nearly seamlessly into a less favorable bit of music. Jim tilted his head back slightly against Spock's shoulder. "I'm getting thirsty. You want to go get some water?"

"Before we become dehydrated," Spock agreed, and they peeled their sweaty bodies away from each other. Jim snagged Spock's hand inside his own and led him out of the crowd.

There was a dispenser with recyclable cups in a nearby lounge, and Jim began guzzling the cool, refreshing water as fast as he could. Spock simply stood there beside him, breathing deeply away from the stuffy air on the dance floor. When Jim had gone through three or four cups, he put the cup in the recycling slot and turned to Spock.

He fully intended to say something--sweet, flirtatious, complimentary, geeky, witty, intelligent, mysterious--anything. But somehow, the deep look in Spock's eyes and the way their fingers were gently intwining, and the fact that they were still extremely hard, propelled them closer without another word.

The kiss was like water ballet--slow, graceful, choreographed. There was no tongue, at first--Jim sensed that perhaps Spock had never gone there before, and was content to let him lead to his greater comfort. They sucked on each other's lips gently and quietly, there in the half-lit, empty lounge.

Somehow without having Spock communicate to him in any open way, Jim knew that his companion wanted more. He slid his tongue easily into Spock's mouth, and Spock's tongue emerged to greet it. Jim sucked it into his mouth and closed his eyes.

And then, Jim had a tremendous feeling that Spock really, ~really~ wanted to take him home. Wondering if he was imagining things, just blowing an educated hunch out of proportion, he moved his mouth close to one of those pointed ears. "Hey," he purred, "let's go someplace." He didn't know why his little hunches were becoming so insistent, but he was glad for the assurance--however irrational--that his overtures were welcome, especially since Spock seemed a bit hesitant on first glance.

Holding hands the whole time, they ran like little boys across the Academy campus to Spock's dorm room. The grass was dewy with fallen fog, but the sky was clear and the stars shone brightly. Jim looked up at them with a smirk as he scampered, as if to say to them happily, Look at us!

Everyone in Spock's dorm was either asleep, out, or at the party, so luckily there was nobody there to give Jim funny looks for being dressed like a refugee from the War of 1812. When Spock keyed open his door, the two young men hurried inside, eager to carry out further physical exploration now that they had some privacy.

The room was already dimly lit by a small lamp in the corner, and they started kissing again so quickly that they forgot to turn on any other light. Spock's bed was unusually firm but covered up by something sleek and soft and Jim found himself horizontal on it before he knew it. He pulled Spock's lean body down across his and grabbed his ass, hard, with all ten fingers.

Then he remembered something. "I hate to interrupt this, because you're so hot, and this is so much fun, but before we continue I really should get out of this costume before I wrinkle it any more."

Spock pried his lips from Jim's neck and raised an eyebrow. "Logical." He climbed off the bed and treated Jim to his best coat hanger, then watched with an appreciative eye as the shirt and the pants joined their colleagues in Spock's closet. Spock, too, undressed, revealing a hairier chest than Jim had been expecting.

When Spock came back to the bed, Jim explored that hair with a few of his fingers. He had only been with one guy before, in high school, and he'd been practically hairless. Jim played for a while until it became conspicuous that he was paying attention to it. "You are not accustomed to this amount of body hair?" Spock asked.

"No, my... high school boyfriend wasn't like this at all." Jim ran his hand through the hair again.

"Do you like it?"

"I wasn't expecting it, but it's cool," Jim asserted. "It looks good on your, anyway. I like touching you."

"May I--" Spock cast his eyes downward across Jim's body, giving Jim a throbbingly beautiful view of his lush eyelashes, "--touch you?" He let the verb carry the full significance intended.

"I'm all yours!" Jim opened his legs slightly, invitingly.

Spock's hand traveled across Jim's torso and over his hip, and came to rest comfortably at the base of Jim's penis. Carefully, not so much timid as merely exacting, he grasped the firm skin and let it rest, warm and full, within his hand. His fingers curled around it and he began to move them in squeezing motions.

Jim sighed and groped in the air, reaching for Spock reciprocally.

They lay down, snug in a twin bed which was really too narrow to contain two lanky cadets, but they didn't care at the moment because it pushed them closer together. There were no words as they stroked and fondled each other--only soft groans and hard gasps, soft kisses and hard dicks. Jim grabbed and pulled on Spock's intimate places quite attentively, and somewhere in the back of his mind he noted that something about his new friend's genitals was... different from what he was used to. He assumed in his (quite understandable) distraction that it was simply a new human shape he hadn't come across yet.

The pressure built in their lower bodies, and their jerking hands moved faster and tighter. Together, they crashed headlong into orgasm. Spock kept his hand on Jim's dick and felt it throb, whereas Jim moved his hand to the head so he could catch Spock's semen. He played with its stickiness, and his dick throbbed a bit longer than usual because of the substance there across his fingers.

The air calmed. "That was... damn good," Jim drawled lazily, leaning his head on Spock's warm shoulder. Hot, actually. Spock's body was hotter than he'd expected--and not just in the sense of being sexually enticing.

"Pleasing..." Spock said quietly. He seemed at peace.

Jim nibbled his way along Spock's neck up to one ear, and sucked his earlobe gently. "You still have your ears on," he observed, nipping his way around the ear. And then suddenly all at once he realized what he'd said, and what was in his mouth--and who was in his arms. Spock seemed to tense up even before the words were out of his mouth. "Wait a minute, those ARE your ears."

Spock wriggled like an ornery cat in Jim's arms, but Jim put all his strength into holding him down on the bed. "Spock, calm down."

"You are mad at me."

"I'm not mad," Jim corrected. "I'm... actually kind of excited. I'd never even *kissed* an alien before tonight. Are you... really Vulcan?"

"Half." Spock seemed to be trying to will himself dead.

"Wow. What a neat mix!" Jim hugged him, with his whole body, like a little kid. "No wonder I liked you so quickly."

"I was pretending to be something I am not," said Spock, still flagellating himself.

"What--smart? Funny? Sweet? There's no way you could fake the personality that swept me off my feet back there." Jim kissed Spock's cheek, then his neck. "Why were you pretending in the first place?"

"It was not my intention, but when you mistook my... features as a costume, I--I found I did want to spend time with you."

"And you were afraid I wouldn't want to talk to you if I knew you weren't fully human?" Jim frowned. "I guess there are some people like that here, but I'm not one of them. Never have been."

"I could not be certain of that," Spock explained. "There have been... problems."

"I'm sorry about that," said Jim. "You're not really from Chicago, are you?"

"I said my mother is from Chicago," said Spock. "*I* am from Shikahr, the capital city of the planet Vulcan."

"You did say that, didn't you." Jim smirked, and kissed Spock on the nose. Spock was beginning to calm down, at least from the way his body felt in Jim's arms, but there was still more he was holding back. Jim knew a little bit about Vulcans and took a wild guess. "By the way, was I reading your mind tonight, or was that just my imagination?"

It took Spock a few moments to answer. "I sent a few of my wishes to you as unconscious messages. Forgive me for the intrusion."

"Forgive you? That was great! It gave me so much confidence to have such a strong gut feeling that my overtures were so... *wanted*. I don't know if I would have been as comfortable asking for as much as I did, otherwise."

"I could not bring myself to express my desires openly. I found I could not resist the temptation to express my desires in a way that was more natural to me, as a Vulcan," Spock explained. "I only projected. I did not examine your thoughts or feelings."

"Well, I thought I was making them pretty clear without that." Jim grinned. "I really do like you."

"I like you very much as well," Spock answered. "I hope you understand how sincere I am when I say I would not be here otherwise." He looked down across the bed. "I am not in the habit of participating in spontaneous sexual activity."

"We can plan it next time. I'll take you on a real Earth-style date." Jim noticed that his hand was still full of Spock's cum, so he industriously licked his fingers clean. He winked at Spock to deflect any possible brow-wrinkling at his action. "San Francisco has a lot of great places to go visit--especially if you're with someone special."

"That would be agreeable," said Spock. "My nature does not mesh well with this human custom of dancing in a darkly-lit room packed with of sexually aroused strangers."

"That's only one of the many ways humans have fun together," said Jim. "Next time, you can show me some of the Vulcan ways."

"Do you play kal-toh?" Spock asked.

"No, but I do play chess," Jim replied. "Perhaps you can teach me."

"And you can help me to better understand humans," Spock countered. "For example--" He raised his eyebrow and nodded his head slightly toward Jim's glistening hand. "--is excess semen customarily ingested following orgasm? They do not teach human sexual practices in Vulcan texts."

Jim chuckled. "No, that's... just something I like. I don't know why."

"Perhaps your body is deficient in salt, and it causes you to find salty substances appetizing."

"Mmmm.... I love having a naked nerd in my arms."

"I cannot disagree with that statement."

"Here--I'll tell you something about most humans after sex--or at least, that I know about, anyway. We get hungry."

"That is logical," said Spock. "A great deal of energy has been exerted."

"Would you like to go grab a midnight snack with me?"

"My body requires food as well. But you will have to borrow my clothing--or else continue to dress as Horatio Hornblower."

Jim grinned. "It's still Halloween, and I want to get more mileage out of those clothes."

"You look very handsome in them."

"Thank you! Your costume, too, was... very becoming."

"I did not have a costume," Spock reminded him.

"Sure you did." Jim got out of bed and stretched his beautiful body. "You had the best costume at the party! Nobody else was dressed--as a human."

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