DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are my creation and property and are copyright. I will not benefit financially in any way from the publication of this story.
Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise was more than accustomed to the unexpected. Over the course of his career, he had pretty much seen it all, from genuine tribbles to fake Andorians and everything in between, and had been surprised by very little of it. Thrilled, enraged, saddened and awed, perhaps. But surprised? No. And that is why it was so ironic that here on Tilenius II, renowned resort planet, place of perfect weather and perfect peace, James Kirk found himself in a situation he would not in a million years have anticipated.
He was on shore leave with a drunken Vulcan.
Kirk sat on a log and ruefully surveyed his normally dignified first officer, the one who was now slouched at an impossible angle against the trunk of a tree, holding his head as if it would whirl off his neck unless firmly grasped. The whole situation would have been funny, if it were not so scary. Miles away from medical help, Kirk thought. No antidote with us. No way of knowing how long this will last. He certainly acts like he’s just drunk, but what if it’s more serious than that? What if he doesn’t get over it… or gets worse? Kirk chewed his bottom lip and fretted. “Damn red berries,” he said.
Spock squinted up at Kirk and slightly loosened his death grip on his head. “Indeed,” he slurred. “The damn red berries were pernicious, baneful, pestilential, noxious, and treacherous.” He cocked his head to one side, apparently trying to assess why all of the “s” sounds in the sentence he’d just uttered seemed to have spontaneously converted into “sh’s,” and why such a large effort seemed to be required in order to put together a sentence these days. With a slight shrug, he tried another tactic. “They were bad,” he told Kirk. “Very, very, very, very bad.” That established, he let his head fall back against the tree trunk with a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a hiccough.
Kirk rubbed his forehead. He was starting to get the kind of headache he usually reserved for Klingon attack. If Spock did not start to sober up soon, this five day long camping trip was going to be just like the berries: very, very, very, very bad. He glared at his first officer. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have just done the reasonable thing and eaten the food we brought with us,” he scolded. “But no, that was too easy, wasn’t it? You just had to try out the local fauna, and this is what it got you.”
Spock rested his elbows on his knees and sank his chin into his hands. “Flora,” he said.
“Flora, sir.” After a pause, during which Spock apparently reconsidered the gist of Kirk’s question, he added, “The local flora is the correct term, Captain. Fauna indicates animal life, and as you know, I do not eat meat. I would not therefore sample the local fauna. I would - and admittedly did - sample the local flora. In the form of the red berries of which we have been conversing. The very bad damn red berries.”
“Thanks for clearing that up,” said Kirk dryly.
“You are most welcome,” Spock replied politely. There was quite a long silence. Finally, Spock observed, “This planet rotates much more quickly than my scientific data led me to believe. In fact, there appears to be a small patch of earth located directly beneath me which is spinning at an alarming rate.”
The spins. Spock had the spins. Jim reflected on past indiscretions of his own and knew that this was not a good sign. He leaned forward anxiously. “Spock. Are you going to be sick?”
“You know: sick to your stomach. Are you going to vomit?”
Spock drew himself up into a slightly more vertical posture. “Captain,” he replied, a tinge of affronted pride coloring his voice, “I am a Vulcan. I am certain you are aware that Vulcans never vomit.”
Jim grimaced. “No, of course they don’t. Sorry I even mentioned it.”
Silence reigned again, during which Jim kept himself busy by snapping small sticks in two and keeping an eye on his first officer, who had begun to lean starboard once more.
Finally, Spock cleared his throat. “They do, however, urinate. Upon occasion.”
“Hmm? Oh, OK. Let me help you up, and…”
But Spock was already gathering his long legs underneath him and lurching with uncharacteristic gracelessness to his feet. “Not necessary, Captain. I am quite capable of – ” and he pitched forward headlong onto the ground.
“Spock! For God’s sake! Are you all right?” Jim rushed over and bent over the fallen Vulcan, searching quickly for signs of damage.
Spock rolled over onto his back and peered up fuzzily at the concerned human. “I am unharmed, sir. However, perhaps your offer of assistance was more apt than I had at first believed.” He reached out to allow Jim to grab his arm and haul him to a standing position.
“All right,” said Jim, placing the arm around his shoulders. “Just take it slow and let me help hold you up. That tree over there ought to suit just fine – let’s just make our way over to it – slowly and carefully. No more nosedives.”
Taking a course that was somewhat more zigzag than strictly necessary, they finally reached the tree that Jim had targeted. Jim slipped Spock’s arm from around his shoulders and grabbed the back of Spock’s shirt to help keep him upright. “Before you get started,” he advised, “take it from someone who’s been there. Aim out, not down. Otherwise, you’ll end up with wet boots.”
Spock frowned in puzzlement. “You ate the red berries also?”
“What? No, of course not. But I’ve been in the same state you’re in - lots of times. Usually Saurian brandy’s been to blame. But now that I think of it, there was that time with Scotty, when he insisted that I try that bottle of…”
Jim trailed off, because Spock was unfastening his pants and taking out his big, magnificent, glorious green cock. Suddenly, Jim found that his heart was hammering and his mouth was going dry. His eyes widened as he beheld it: long and perfect even when flaccid, so close that Jim could easily reach out and touch it. What would that feel like, he thought to himself – and instantly felt himself grow hard at the half-formed idea.
Damn! That was all he needed: a big, fat, totally inappropriate, inexcusable erection. He could just imagine Spock’s eyebrow shooting up toward the heavens, and that perfectly reasonable, calm voice saying something like, “Pardon me, Captain, but you appear to have become sexually aroused at approximately the same moment that I removed my penis from my pants. I must therefore conclude that there is a 99.9% chance that you would like to seduce me.” No! It would never do! Jim yanked his eyes away, stared determinedly at the trunk of the tree, and silently chanted his foolproof cock-softening mantra.
…dead rotting Marfakian wartworms…the water maggots of Sadr XII…T’Pau in a pink bikini…
“Mmm? Oh. Uh, all finished, then? All right. Give me your arm.”
“I assure you, I am increasingly able to control the deliberating… debilterating… the harmful effects of the red berries. It is therefore not at all necessary that you…” Spock began, at the exact same time that his left foot had a serious disagreement with his right about the proper course back to camp. The tall Vulcan began to topple off to the side; it was painfully clear that a crash was imminent. With a muffled curse, Jim grabbed for his friend, but managed to grasp only a small portion of sleeve, and found himself being yanked off his own feet by the momentum of Spock’s plummeting body. There was no help for it: in rapid succession came the sound of snapping branches, crunching dead leaves, and – finally – a soft “oof” as Kirk landed full force on Spock’s back.
“Damn. Sorry, Spock – I couldn’t catch you. Are you hurt?” Jim struggled to his knees and once again surveyed his first officer for damage.
“No - thank you. I am unharmed,” replied Spock as he sat up amidst the broken saplings that had fallen victim to the crash.
Jim frowned. “You are, too, hurt. Look – your shirt’s torn, and you’re bleeding. It looks like you got stabbed by a branch on your way down.” He leaned forward and carefully inspected the wound, his eyes dark with worry. “Let’s get you back to camp and get that taken care of - it wouldn’t be good if it got infected. Come on.” He got to his feet and reached down for Spock, who meekly took Jim’s hands and allowed his captain to pull him upright. For a moment they stood close together, swaying, and Kirk was afraid that he was going to have to recite another mantra. You, James T. Kirk, have got it bad, he told himself. He’s drunk, he’s covered with dead leaves, and for once his hair’s a mess. And you still can’t get near him without wanting to fuck the daylights out of him. You are in deep, deep trouble.
With those disquieting thoughts swirling around in his mind, he guided Spock back to camp and helped him to settle against the trunk of the same tree he’d been sitting under before.
“Take off your shirt while I get the first aid kit.” Kirk instructed over his shoulder as he dove into the tent to find the medikit that was stowed inside.
“I am,” Spock announced regretfully, “an inordinate amount of trouble to you.”
Jim emerged from the tent, took one look, and swallowed. Spock’s shirt was off, and the sight was indeed causing Jim trouble, though not the kind that Spock was thinking of. … T’Pau in a pink bikini… clean away the fragments of wood… dead rotting Marfakian wartworms… antiseptic salve…water maggots of Sadr XII…don’t look down, don’t look anywhere but at the wound… T’Pau in a pink bikini…spray on bandage…
“You are not an inordinate amount of trouble,” Jim answered, when he was able to concentrate on anything other than his mantra. “I shouldn’t have scolded you about the berries. I know you checked them out with the tricorder first and got no indication they’d have this effect on you.” He chanced looking into Spock’s eyes; they seemed to be a little more focused. Or maybe he just wanted to believe it: Spock’s slumped posture was still suspect. “And if the truth be told, it’s my fault you’re here now, and in this predicament. If I remember correctly, you didn’t want to come here in the first place.” He looked again at the wound he’d just dressed. It was quite deep, and he didn’t like the way the sharp branch had left such a jagged tear. I hope I cleaned it well enough to keep it from getting infected, he mused to himself.
The left corner of Spock’s mouth quirked upward. “Whenever I am injured,” he pointed out, his voice still slurred, “you become pale and there are lines around your eyes that are not present at any other time.” He fell silent for a minute, studying his captain’s face. “You are,” he finally added, “a most excellent human. But I fear that you would be inadequate as a Vulcan.”
Jim decided that it was imperative that he tend to an inch-long superficial scratch that lay to the left of the main injury. He took a long time doing it, gathering his thoughts as he worked. Finally he said, “I guess you’re right. I never was much good at hiding my emotions – frankly, I’ve never seen much use in it.” He looked up and gave Spock a lopsided grin. “Anyway, I could never get the hang of that neck pinch.” His expression became serious as he added, “I am what I am, just as you are what you are. And for whatever it’s worth, I think that you are a very excellent Vulcan.”
The deep sadness in Spock’s voice caused Jim to fasten him with a keen gaze. Spock had always prided himself on being Vulcan to the power of ten. Why then did Jim’s comment seem to depress him so? Had the red berries altered his mood that much, or was something else bothering Spock? Jim’s hazel eyes scanned the Vulcan’s face thoroughly, searching in vain for clues. What Spock said next was strange.
“I know something,” he slurred, “that you do not.”
A warning bell started to sound, loudly, inside Jim. Something told him this conversation might be going in a direction he was not quite ready to take. He kept his tone light as he replied. “I’m sure that’s very true.”
Spock’s eyebrows rose. “You are not curious?”
Jim sighed. “Spock, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You know a lot of things I don’t know. If I tried to figure out all of them, I’d either go crazy or my brain would blow up – probably both.”
Spock leaned forward until his face was very close to Jim’s. Jim could smell the faint scent of the intoxicating red berries on Spock’s breath, heady and sweet. I’ll bet his lips would taste even sweeter, thought Jim, fighting the mad impulse to test his theory then and there.
“But this thing that I know, and you do not, is different,” confided Spock in a conspiratorial whisper. “This is something which you must never, never, never find out. Never.” Spock looked deeply into Jim’s eyes as he said this; for the third time in an hour, Jim felt himself grow hard. This time he couldn’t even collect his thoughts enough to recite his mantra, not with Spock so devastatingly close, not with those sensual lips so near his face, perfectly shaped and slightly parted, begging to be kissed. “I think that I will tell you now,” concluded Spock.
That uncharacteristically illogical turn of thought caused Jim to blink in alarm. “Spock,” he said, more sharply than he had intended, “don’t.” He reached out and put his hand on Spock’s bare shoulder and squeezed gently for emphasis, trying not to notice that Spock’s skin was hot… and soft… trying not to think about how much more of it he wanted to touch. He squirmed slightly to readjust his insistent, inconvenient erection. This situation was fast becoming unbearable: he had to put an end to it. “You’re not yourself right now – don’t tell me anything you might regret. Wait until tomorrow, when you’re feeling better, and you can say it then.”
Spock’s lips curled up in that little half-smile that always made Jim’s heart stop. “But Jim,” he said in a voice so reasonable he almost sounded sober, “don’t you understand? Tomorrow I will never tell you what you must never know. That is why I must tell you today.” And he leaned forward and kissed Jim on the mouth.
Jim’s first thought was that the red berries must be contagious, because the planet, his head and his thoughts all started to spin at once, each in a different direction. Spock’s lips were flame on his; the sensation was incredible – the beautiful mouth at once soft and firm, the taste of Spock mingled with the berries, and then – oh, God! Spock’s tongue slipping past Jim’s teeth and into his mouth, probing, exploring, igniting a fire deep within him that threatened to burn away every shred of control he ever pretended to have. Jim pulled back, gasping, and regarded his first officer with consternation. He wanted more of that kiss, much more, but not this way. Not with Spock so… so not Spock. Not if there was a possibility that Spock was too drunk to fully consent. Not if Spock would later want to take back any of this. Jim’s voice was heavy with regret when he spoke. “Contrary to what you might think, I do have some ethics about… about this kind of thing. And right now, I don’t think you’re in any condition to really know what you’re doing.” He touched Spock’s face gently. “We can’t do this – not like this.”
“Ah.” It was little more than a breath, hardly a sigh. “It is true, then.” Spock fell back against the tree and shut his eyes.
“What is true?”
“You do not want me. There was an 87.2 percent chance that you would tell me that.”
Jim couldn’t help it – he had to ask. “And the remaining 12.8 percent?”
Spock did not open his eyes. “I calculated a 12.6 percent chance that you would say nothing at all to me, but would merely push me away and refuse to see me ever again.”
Jim frowned. “That doesn’t quite come out to one hundred. What about the point 2 percent that’s left over?”
Spock finally opened his eyes. Jim’s stomach lurched when he saw that the Vulcan’s lashes were wet. Please, let it be from the red berries. If I’ve caused him that much pain… Spock replied, in a very small voice, “I computed that there was a point 2 percent chance that you would kiss me back.”
“Those aren’t very good odds.” Jim fought to keep his voice dispassionate.
“No. They are not. Today, having eaten the red berries, it seemed worth the chance to me. Tomorrow, of course, I will act more logically.” He formed his face into its usual impassivity and looked Jim squarely in the eye. “I apologize for my actions. I hope you will accept my assurance that it will not happen again.”
Jim couldn’t stand it any more; he grabbed Spock by the shoulders and said vehemently, “You have never been so wrong – about the odds, or what I want, or – or anything! I haven’t told you I don’t want you – I do want you! And I would never walk away from you, or reject you! You must know me better than that!” He glared at Spock; suddenly, he was thoroughly exasperated by the whole situation. “For your information, I practically begged you to come here with me because I planned to seduce the hell out of you. I wasn’t going to stop until I got past your damned thick, logical Vulcan walls and made you accept what you are to me! I have no idea how you came up with those stupid percentages in the first place, but they are off – way off!” Kirk settled back on his heels, scowling with outrage.
Spock regarded Jim in total befuddlement. “You want me?” he whispered.
Jim rubbed his forehead. He’d forgotten about that headache, but now it was back with a vengeance. “Yes,” he said, with exaggerated patience. “I do.” He looked up at the cloudless sky. Everything already had gone totally haywire: he might just as well say the rest of it. “I love you, Spock. I want you and I love you.” He looked again, resolutely, at the Vulcan, whose face was transformed with wonder. “And that is why I can’t make love to you when you’re intoxicated, when you’ve already told me that tomorrow…”
But Jim was unable to finish his sentence because Spock’s powerful arms were suddenly wrapped around him and he was being kissed again, passionately, demandingly, and the planet started to race around on its axis faster even than the beat of Jim’s heart. Impossible, the effect this Vulcan had on his body and on his will – how easily the feel of that mouth, hot upon his own, stripped away all rational thought. Spock’s tongue pushed into Jim’s mouth once more, and the now familiar taste of berries, the scent of Spock’s skin, the feel of those long, warm fingers caressing Jim’s face, all began to coalesce into a bright core of desire. Just one moment to treasure this, Jim promised himself. One moment to feel this, with no guilt and no remorse. Then I’ll make myself be responsible again. That decision made, Jim put his hand on the back of Spock’s neck, pulled his first officer even closer, and kissed him back, slowly, deliberately, with abandonment.
Long minutes passed, minutes unbroken by sound. Then, a low growl from Spock, a hard shove, and Jim felt himself being pushed over backwards onto the ground. The weight of a very aroused though still slightly uncoordinated Vulcan settled on top of him; the mouth moved to Jim’s neck, where it started to nip and tease with enthusiastic expertise. Jim gasped. With this kind of treatment, it wouldn’t take him long to lose control. “Spock, no! We’ve got to stop this!”
Spock continued to kiss Jim’s neck as he started to work his hands under Jim’s shirt. “Why?” he murmured lazily, brushing his lips across Jim’s collarbone.
“I told you – you’re intoxicated.”
Spock’s hands stroked across Jim’s hard abdominal muscles and then moved up in search of Jim’s chest and nipples. Jim squirmed and moaned under his ministrations. “But you are wrong, Jim,” he replied, his voice husky in Jim’s ear. “I am feeling much, much better.” The insistent hands started to move down again, toward the fastening of Jim’s pants.
“Spock, please! You’re not in your right mind. Tomorrow…”
Spock stopped his exploration and stared down at his captain. “I already told you,” he explained patiently. “Tomorrow I would not do this.”
“That’s exactly my point.” Jim started to struggle against Spock’s weight. He could feel Spock’s massive, hard sex pressing against his inner thigh; he tried not to think about how easy it would be to release it from its confines, stroke it, watch Spock’s face become flushed with passion…
“I am what I am,” Spock said softly. “You said it yourself. But today I am drunk on red berries, and today I am someone other than what I am. Someone who,” he lowered his head to fasten another passionate, dizzying kiss on Jim’s mouth, “can kiss you like this. Someone who,” he shoved Jim’s shirt up roughly, exposing his chest and dark puckered nipples, “can tell you that you are beautiful. So beautiful.” Spock’s smoldering, dark eyes raked over Jim’s body with hungry appreciation. “Someone who,” another kiss fell hot on Jim’s mouth, “can show you how much you are desired, without feeling shame.” Swift, relentless hands tugged again at Jim’s pants, opening them in one quick motion. “Someone who is not an excellent Vulcan.”
Jim felt his hard cock come tumbling out of his pants and Spock’s hands capture it. Warm fingers stroked him slowly, persistently; the blood began to bang savagely in his ears. Frantically, he struggled to get away, only to have Spock pin his arms at his sides with an uncompromising force. Jim felt ridiculous tears of frustration sting his eyes. He looked Spock full in the face, accusingly. “And someone who, tomorrow, will become that excellent Vulcan again? Hide behind that wall of logic again? Pretend this never happened - expect me to do the same?” The tears welled up, blurring his vision. He ignored them. “No. If that’s what’s going to happen, tomorrow will hurt too much.”
Spock’s eyes were black and impenetrable. “You will not deny me. You will not allow your fear of tomorrow to take today from us.” He lowered his head to Jim’s chest and pulled one of the erect nipples into his mouth, suckled it, then bit it gently. Jim writhed and gasped. “You will say yes to me, Jim. It is not logical for you to pretend otherwise.” Spock abruptly released the captive human’s arms, reached down, and pushed Jim’s pants away from his waist. He claimed Jim in another long kiss; Jim found himself moaning into Spock’s open mouth – out of longing or protest, he could no longer discern. “Say yes, Jim,” Spock prompted when he finally pulled away.
Jim turned his head to the side and tried to reclaim his thoughts. His breath came in hard gasps, but he remained stubbornly silent. Spock sighed, and began to turn his attention to Jim’s sculpted chest, and then his hard, well-muscled abdomen. The inhumanly hot tongue blazed a fiery trail over Jim’s smooth skin, around his navel, down lower… From a distance, Jim heard himself whimper. He had never been so aroused, had never wanted anything so much. As if sensing that Jim was teetering on the edge, Spock paused, his lips against Jim’s triangle of pubic hair, his breath searing the base of Jim’s stiff cock. “Say yes, Jim.”
“God, Spock!” Jim half-sobbed.
Spock grabbed Jim’s hips and looked intently into the amber eyes that were fast becoming unfocused with desire. Without hesitation or warning, he plunged his molten mouth over Jim’s cock, encasing it tightly for one glorious instant, then pulling heartlessly away, leaving Jim moaning, crazed with want. “Say it.”
“Yes.” Jim whispered.
“Yes,” Spock answered, and bent over Jim’s impatient penis, taking it again in his mouth.
It was a blowjob like none that Jim had ever had. Spock seemed to know exactly where to put his tongue, how hard to suck, when to speed up and when to slow down. One moment, a long hot Vulcan tongue was dragging up the full length of Jim’s sex, driving him to blissful distraction and threatening to completely undo him. The next moment, Spock’s warm lips were tight around the end of Jim’s cock, the tip of that talented tongue was darting out to probe at Jim’s small slit and caress the sensitive head. The next moment… oh, God! The next moment Spock plunged Jim’s full length back into his mouth, all the way to the soft part of his throat, and sucked hungrily at the base of the throbbing organ. Then the tongue again, the lips, the mouth… Jim soon found himself begging, hardly able to think yet sure of what he needed. “Please, Spock! God, Spock,” he panted, clutching frantically at Spock’s silky hair. He felt Spock hold his hips more tightly; the Vulcan drew up on him with greater force and plunged down hard – and Jim exploded into Spock’s mouth, crying out wildly, thrashing about on the bare earth, sobbing incoherently with relief and gratitude.
Spock kept his mouth on Jim for a long time. He licked carefully along the softening cock, intent on finding every drop of precious cum, swallowing it with sensual gusto. Finally, he kissed Jim just below his navel and sat up, regarding the dazed, panting human with eyes that still burned with passion. Wordlessly, he bent to remove Jim’s boots, and then pulled his pants off. Jim lay passively, his golden eyes never leaving Spock. Spock lifted Jim up by the shoulders and with one efficient tug, yanked his shirt up over his head, casting it away on the ground once it was free. Spock then got to his feet, staggering less than he had before, and stared at the naked man below him with obvious lust. Jim began to feel a current of anticipation course through his body; amazingly, he began to grow hard again. Spock saw it, licked his lips, and slowly, deliberately, removed his own pants and boots.
The naked creature that stood before Jim could have been some kind of mythological god of the forest. A few small bits of leaves still clung to Spock’s hair; his eyes were dark and wild, burning with a strange, hot light, fathomless and fierce. Gone was the gentle science officer that Jim thought he knew so well, spirited away by this savage forest deity who stood so tall and sharply chiseled in the early evening sun. The sinewy, lean body lightly covered with dark hair, the graceful length of Spock’s arms and legs, and that cock! God! That cock, large and long and hard – Jim couldn’t look away. Sensing Jim’s growing arousal, the deity’s lips curled in a lascivious almost-smile. Making certain that Jim could see all, he reached down and began to stroke himself, black eyes narrowing in satisfaction at the sensation and at the obvious effect he was having upon the human below him. Jim watched in fascination as Spock pleasured himself, made himself even harder, and then finally brushed the tip of one finger over the head of his sex to spread the slippery pre-cum around on the tip.
“Get on your hands and knees,” the forest deity instructed.
With unexpected speed, Spock fell to the ground and grabbed Jim, shoving him face down onto the ground and then hauling up on his hips with brutal strength until Jim was indeed on his hands and knees, his ass frighteningly exposed to that massive erection. Jim had just enough time to realize that his knees were raw from being dragged across the bare ground, but not enough time to sort out whether the tingling he felt throughout his body was from apprehension or arousal, when the Vulcan was upon him. Spock shoved his huge cock underneath Jim, between the human’s spread legs, and drew Jim’s ass back up against his flat belly. Jim heard a wet sucking noise behind him, and then felt Spock’s moistened thumb push up against his tight opening. Instinctively, it clenched tight at the threatened intrusion.
“Say yes,” Spock ordered.
“Spock, please…” Jim whispered.
The thumb thrust into him.
Jim yelled and struggled to move away but Spock held him immobile with one iron-hard arm while his thumb pushed and probed within Jim. Jim felt himself start to loosen; a small amount of the pain subsided. “Say yes, Jim,” the husky, relentless voice behind him whispered.
Jim moaned and tried once again to break Spock’s grip. He heard a low growl from deep within the Vulcan’s throat and the thumb withdrew, to be replaced by three of Spock’s long fingers, plunging in all at once, causing Jim to cry out again in pain and something else, something brighter and more urgent. The fingers worked determinedly inside the human’s channel, spreading and scissoring, pushing and searching until they found the prostate and slid maddeningly against it.
Jim’s moan was closer to a whimper this time; rivulets of sweat ran down his arms as he trembled uncontrollably. His stiff sex arched out beneath him, twitching convulsively; a thin trail of ooze seeped from the tip and dangled slowly to the ground. Every inch of his body was becoming enflamed, not just from the physical stimulation but also from the thought that it was Spock doing all this to him. Unhurriedly, the tormenting fingers finally withdrew; he felt Spock move back slightly and the long cock between his legs snake away, leaving him feeling both relieved and bereft.
For a split second, there was nothing but Spock’s harsh breath and Jim’s pounding heart; then, Jim again felt something at his entrance, not fingers this time, but something larger, too large for him to take. For the first time, he felt his trust truly falter. The Spock he knew would never force him; but this forest deity who held him so fast was a stranger. Fear started to spread through him. “Spock, no! Don’t do this!”
“Do not fear, Beautiful One. I am not going to take you: you are going to give yourself to me.” The head of Spock’s penis shoved against Jim, insistently. “You are going to say yes.” Jim’s breath hissed through his teeth raggedly; but he did not dare to move for fear that Spock would cram himself into him all at once. Spock reached around and took Jim’s hard staff in his hand; instantly, raging fire started to spread throughout Jim’s body and brain. The fear began to transform into something much more powerful: raw physical need, a need more powerful than any Jim had ever known. With a strange combination of desire and despair, Jim knew that his fate was sealed. Everything in his life had brought him to this moment, to this man - it was inevitable, inescapable. And it was what he wanted, what he had to have. As Jim moaned and arched his back, the Vulcan’s hands stroked his rod and fondled his balls until the writhing human could hardly keep himself from coming then and there. “Damn you, Spock - damn you - damn you!” The words fell out into the empty air in a gasping sob; there was no answer except for an almost imperceptible shove from the Vulcan’s cock.
“Give yourself to me, Jim. Now! Say yes!” And the tormenting hands fell away from Jim’s sex and grasped his hips mercilessly, thumbs spreading the cheeks of his ass apart to more fully expose him.
There was a long, shaky intake of breath from Jim, and for half a heartbeat the world stood still, waiting for his answer.
“Yes.” It was nearly inaudible, the faintest of whispers only, but Spock heard.
“Yes, my Beautiful One,” he responded, his voice thick with lust and triumph. And he slowly shoved himself into Jim’s ass, pushing into the human inexorably until at last his full length was encased in Jim’s tight tunnel.
Jim very nearly passed out; he was dimly aware of his almost limp form being held up by Spock as that searing cock tore into him, pulled back, and thrust in again, deeper than Jim would have thought possible. Gradually, as his senses returned, he discovered that his own body was pushing frantically against Spock every time that the Vulcan rammed into him; the pain slowly metamorphosed into something much more consuming. There was not enough of him to hold the entire length of Spock; he was filled beyond endurance, beyond possibility… and yet he found himself demanding more and more and more. And Spock, or the forest deity, or whoever it was who was fucking him with such with ruthless abandon, gave him all that he demanded. Raw human need met inhuman want; both prevailed. As Jim felt the bright hot light within himself flare toward orgasm, he realized that he was filled with all of Spock – not just his sex, but also his pleasure, his passion, his desire. The totality of Spock hummed through Jim’s body and brain like an electrical current, a stream of not-quite-words, a near physical presence, a mental and sexual energy so fierce that Jim was completely absorbed by it. He could no longer separate who gave and who took, who desired and who fulfilled, who demanded and who consented. And it did not matter. All that was left in the universe was that one last, shuddering thrust, the single cry that came from two mouths, and the hot, wet cum that shot deep within him and spurted from him. Strong arms closed around him, and the universe went dark.
Jim thought he dreamed, sometime in the night, of being picked up and carried like a child. When he awoke the next morning, he found himself in the tent, still nude, but clean, covered by a blanket. For a moment he just lay there half awake, completely relaxed. As the events of the day before came cascading back into his head, he smiled and instinctively reached out, but found only emptiness where he thought Spock would be. His chest tightened with anxiety: every instinct told him something was wrong. Wincing a little at the soreness that lingered within him, he got up and quickly scanned the interior of the tent. All was completely in order. Spock’s sleeping bag was laid out on the ground with nary a wrinkle to disturb its surface. None of the food was missing, and only one set of Spock’s clothing was gone. Perhaps he had only risen early and was waiting with his customary quiet patience outside of the tent.
Or Spock was so appalled at what had happened between them yesterday that he just couldn’t deal with it, and had fled.
Jim knew what the truth was. He pulled his clothes on, cursing under his breath, and grabbed the tricorder. With it, he would be able to locate Spock with no trouble. It was reaching him – really reaching him - that would be the problem. His mouth set in a straight grim line, Jim headed off down the trail, hoping to find his lover and his best friend at the end of it – but also fighting a sick feeling that today had taken both from him, perhaps forever.
It took him nearly an hour before he finally came to where Spock was, kneeling by the edge of a spectacular cliff, looking every bit the austere, ascetic Vulcan. Taking his courage in hand, Jim steeled himself to approach the unapproachable.
“Captain.” Spock met Jim’s eyes unflinchingly, his face an emotionless mask. But Jim knew Spock well enough to look for and to see the signs of quiet disquiet that told him that Spock was in turmoil. In the paleness of his face, in the deep sadness of his eyes, Jim read regret and shame, and a thin needle of fear started to work its way into his own heart. The forest deity of yesterday was gone. In his place was a Vulcan, a most excellent Vulcan, one who was having a hell of a time trying to reconcile yesterday with today. One who held Jim’s entire world – his happiness, his future, his love - in his hands. Mentally bracing himself, Jim walked over to his friend and stood silently beside him, looking down at the glossy, perfectly groomed top of Spock’s head.
Spock turned his face to look out at the far horizon at some undefined point across the gorge. When he spoke, his voice was harsh with tension. “I ask that you leave me. There… there can be no words to explain or to excuse my actions of yesterday. There is quite simply nothing to say.”
Kirk sighed and sat down beside him. “It really isn’t as hard as you’re making it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Spock finally met Jim’s gaze. “I hurt you,” he whispered, a world of remorse in his voice.
“No,” Jim replied softly. “Not until this morning, when I woke and found you gone.” Spock flinched slightly, but did not look away. Jim leaned forward, studying Spock’s anxious face intently. “I said yes. Twice. Have you forgotten?”
Spock shut his eyes in pain. “I have forgotten nothing about yesterday,” he said bitterly. “I forced you to say yes.”
“Did you really? How long have you known me?”
“One year, two months, four days, and 6.8 hours.” “And how many times during that one year, two months, four days, and 6.8 hours have I agreed to do anything that I did not want to do?”
Spock considered briefly. “Other than occasionally following Starfleet orders against your better judgment, I am unable to recall a time,” he finally admitted.
“All right. I’ll leave you to draw your own logical conclusions, then, about what really happened yesterday.” Jim drew a deep breath. “Right now, I’m much more interested in what’s happening today. Why did you leave me? I don’t think it’s in your character to act out of cowardice any more than it’s in mine to give in to force. I can’t believe you left just because you didn’t want to face me this morning.”
Spock stiffened. “Please, Captain - there is no logic in discussing this. I have told you already – there is nothing to say.”
Jim laughed, a short, bitter laugh. “I really think, all things considered, it would be more appropriate to call me Jim, don’t you? And I also think you owe me the truth.”
Spock was once again unable to meet Jim’s eyes. He was silent for such a long time that Jim almost spoke again and pressed him for an answer. Finally, in a strained voice, he said, “Yesterday, with the taste of berries filling my mouth and you in my arms, I… I found that I had no control, did not even wish to have control. All I cared about was having what I had wanted for so long.” He paused, gathering the courage to go on. “Then, afterward, when I brought you into the tent, when you lay before me, unconscious because of what I had done…” Spock’s deep, dark eyes sought Jim’s, his face so full of guilt-ridden shame that Jim nearly winced from it. “…The berries still were in my mouth, and the flame still burned within me. I feared…” He stopped, and covered his face with his hands.
Jim leaned forward and gently drew the hands away. “What did you fear?” he asked softly.
“I feared that until the berries had left me, I would take you again and again, even if it hurt you. No,” he said, steeling himself. “You asked for the truth. You do deserve to hear the truth, shameful though it is. I did not fear – I knew - that I would take you again, right then, if I remained. So I left, and came here, to wait until the berries were gone from me.” Jim was still holding his hands; he stared down at them vacantly. “I intended to come back to face you this morning, though I had not determined what I could possibly say to you.”
“Why didn’t you?” Absently, Jim raised Spock’s hands to his lips and kissed them gently. Spock gave a tiny gasp and pulled them away as if Jim’s touch had burned him.
“Because,” he rasped, “this morning the berries were gone. I no longer tasted them in my mouth or felt them in my body. They were gone – but…” he clenched his eyes shut. “In my mouth, the taste of you remained. And I found that I still was drunk, and that I still burned. I knew.” He looked at Jim in dismay. “I knew then that nothing had changed. I still wanted you. It had not been the berries that intoxicated me – it was you. And I could not go back.”
A strange mixture of sympathy and anger filled Jim as he regarded his friend, whose head bowed low in shame as he ended his confession. “Let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “You left me because you found out that you wanted me, even when you weren’t intoxicated?”
“No. I already knew I wanted you. I had known that for a very long time. I left you because I found out that I could not keep myself from hurting you.”
“Oh, I get it now. You didn’t want to hurt me, so you left me.” Jim stared at Spock, his own face growing stony as anger boiled up and took the forefront over sympathy. “What do you imagine I thought this morning, when I woke up and found you gone? What do you think went through my mind? Did it occur to you that I might be terrified that I had lost you for good? That the Vulcan in you was so disgusted by what we had done that you couldn’t stand to look at me anymore? That you blamed me for all of it? Or…” Jim’s throat was so tight he had to swallow in order to force the words out, “…that you were only interested in a quick fuck, and I just happened to be conveniently nearby?” He ignored Spock’s expression of stunned horror and added, “I thought all of those things and worse.”
“Jim, - ” started Spock.
“No. Don’t say anything to me. Not until you understand this: I love you. And I am afraid of absolutely nothing, except of losing you. So don’t you dare – don’t you dare – take yourself from me in the name of sparing me pain.” He leaned forward and looked deep into Spock’s eyes, which were fixed on him with horrified fascination. “Now, I’m going to do as you requested, and leave you to think things over. Deciding what you want shouldn’t be that difficult, because you’ve only got two choices: all or nothing.” Still shaking with anger, Jim got to his feet and started to walk away.
“Jim.” The quiet voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly, to see that Spock was still kneeling on the ground, his hands spread outwards in an uncharacteristically helpless gesture. “Do not go. I… Please.” Spock’s beautiful dark eyes looked up at Jim in silent appeal. “If you offer me all, I shall not be foolish enough to refuse it. But… it is easier with the berries,” he whispered, as both apology and explanation.
Jim’s anger drained from him, washed away in a flood of compassion and love. In less than two strides, he was back at Spock’s side, kneeling next to him, taking his face in gentle hands. “Spock.” Lightly and chastely, he kissed the warm lips that were tilted toward his, and felt a surge of joy when he sensed no resistance. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss. Spock gave a tiny moan and opened his mouth eagerly beneath Jim’s. Jim finally pulled away, not entirely surprised to find himself already breathless. “And without the berries,” he teased softly, “it’s absolutely god-awful?”
“No,” breathed Spock. “It is not. It is…” he touched his lips to Jim’s again. “It is absolutely beautiful.” He reached out to stroke Jim’s cheek. “As beautiful as you are. But I find that today, I do not know how to tell you that, or how to show you, or…” the little half-smile appeared again, and Jim’s heart gave its usual besotted leap, “…how to do any of this.”
“I think you’re doing quite well,” said Jim, tenderly tracing the outline of Spock’s right ear with his finger, and smiling to see the way that Spock instinctively pushed into his hand for more of the touch. “But if you really don’t feel qualified to go on, well – there’s always my plan.”
“Yes. I told you I brought you here to seduce you. Did you think I’d attempt such a tricky thing as seducing a Vulcan without planning it all out first? I’ve been working on it for months, getting every detail straight in my mind. I just didn’t anticipate that you would beat me to the punch.”
Spock tilted his head, intrigued. “Indeed. And what does your plan entail?”
Jim smiled at him. “Well, first of all, my plan involves some rather strenuous activity later on, so we should both go back to camp and have breakfast. Then, since I have slept and you have not, you are going to take a nap for at least two or three hours.”
“I do not require as much sleep as you. I am fully capable of…”
“Yes, I know – you’ve told me many times before. But you see, it’s essential that you take a nap, or my plan won’t work.”
“Really. I am not sure I understand.” Spock leaned forward, obviously fascinated. Jim smiled to himself, rather smug that he had piqued Spock’s curiosity.
“Well, after an hour or two, I plan to come into the tent, lie down beside you, and kiss you awake. I can’t very well do that unless you’re asleep, can I?”
“Most logical,” complimented Spock. “And is that the entirety of your plan?”
“Come on – give me more credit than that. Do you think it would have taken me months to come up with just that?”
“I must confess that I do not have the data necessary to estimate the time required to fully create a plan of seduction.” Spock’s brown eyes were seemingly all innocence, but there was a twinkle that was beginning to look suspiciously like humor. “My own was rather half-formed – even a bit spontaneous.”
“Yes, just a bit,” Jim said dryly. “And yet it was a dandy. But back to my plan. After I’ve kissed you awake, I’m going to take just a moment to assess the situation. If, at any point during this first step, you have kissed me back, I’ll most likely proceed directly to removing every last piece of clothing from your body and then ravishing you in all of the various and perverse ways that I’ve fantasized about forever. If you haven’t kissed me back, then I’ll know that I need to persuade you further. That part of the plan took me some time to work out. The essential question, of course, is how does one persuade a stubborn, unapproachable, Vulcan?”
“And how does one?” Spock asked, a little breathlessly.
Jim’s smile broadened. He was enjoying this more and more. “I’m still not exactly sure. But I think you helped me out yesterday.” He shot Spock a look of pure, unadulterated seduction. “I think the same technique you used to persuade me then might also work on you.”
“Indeed. I think if I kiss your neck and then get my hands underneath your shirt and stroke your chest and play with your nipples and tell you how beautiful I think you are, it might work. And if it doesn’t…”
“If it does not?”
“Well, then I’ll have no choice.” Jim sighed in mock discouragement. “I’ll just have to reach down and take your thoroughly splendid, glorious cock out of your pants and put it in my mouth and give you a blowjob you will not soon forget.” He leaned forward and kissed Spock, whose lips were already parted in rapt contemplation of the plan. “Given this plan, Mr. Spock, what do you think my chances are of persuading that stubborn, unapproachable Vulcan?”
“Approximately 98.1 percent,” replied Spock hoarsely but promptly.
“Well, that’s better than the point two percent you calculated for yourself. But what about the 1.9 percent left over?”
“There is a 1.9 percent chance that I shall die of pleasure after your first wakeup kiss, making any further persuasion not only unnecessary but impossible.”
This time, Jim was certain that the sparkle in the Vulcan’s eyes was silent laughter. His spirits soared: everything was going to be all right. The grin he flashed at Spock was brilliant and unrestrained. “Hmm. It sounds a little risky, but most of my plans are. Do you think it’s worth taking the chance, Mr. Spock?”
“I believe, Captain,” Spock said gravely, leaning toward Jim for another kiss, “that it is.”