Author’s note: This story was first published in T’hy’la 11 in 1992 and was my very first venture into creative writing. 17 years on, I reread it for the first time since it was published and winced! I decided to rewrite it, keeping the plot and the structure, but rewriting the characters to something closer to who I think they are, than I believe the original reflected. I didn’t look at this until after I’d written “Mistletoe Challenge”, and was amused to see echoes of this story in that one.
A Brief Encounter
‘The Denebian Dish’ Kirk thought wryly as he exited the restaurant, could just as aptly have described the native of the Deneb star system who’d been waiting on his table, as the establishment itself. Now that he was on his feet, he was more conscious of his overly full stomach. The starter and main courses had been excellent, but their selection of desserts had been little short of sinful. He had pondered the choice for quite some time, finding it hard to decide from so many of his favorites, eventually taking an utterly self-indulgent route and settling on two. The triple chocolate fudge delight had been mouth-wateringly delicious, but even as he had plowed through the exquisite tarte au citron a la mode, he had begun to feel guilty—although not to the extent that he had left more than a few crumbs on his plate.
Kirk considered working it off with the little blonde bombshell of a waitress. She had shown a definite interest in him and had indicated her shift was soon to finish. But a restlessness in him made him choose to go for a walk instead, taking a route back to his hotel that would allow him a final tour of Luna City.
Part of Kirk still felt as though he were in a dream. Three months earlier he had been called to Nogura’s office to be officially notified of his promotion to Captain and to be given his new assignment. Having stood to attention in front of the Old Man’s desk, he had been invited to sit and had been glad of it when the Admiral had informed him he was getting command of the Enterprise. Even now, the reality of it had not entirely sunk in.
Kirk paused, debating which way to head from the restaurant. After a moment’s consideration, he selected a route away from his hotel towards the Aldrin Shuttleport for a little trip down memory lane. The mall where the restaurant was located was way too congested for his liking—he hadn’t figured on quite how busy the place would be when he’d made his booking, but the annual Interplanetary Conference on Computer Technology apparently attracted scientists from all over the sector. In fact, he had been lucky to get a room—a last minute cancelation had freed one up just he was making inquiries.
Ignoring the travelator, he walked with purpose along a wide, tube-shaped thoroughfare constructed of transparent aluminum, keeping out of the way of the passenger service vehicles that travelled to and from the spaceport. When the crowds thinned out, he found himself breathing a sigh of relief.
Luna City’s five spaceports existed as satellites to the main hub, located at the end of equidistant radiating spokes. When viewed from above, the city took on the shape of a simple five-point star.
Aldrin was built on a plateau to the northeast. As Kirk neared it, the ground took on a steep gradient and the exertion of walking briskly up it helped him work off his culinary excesses. Close to the summit, he paused to take in the uninterrupted view.
Turning towards the east, he looked out over the barren lunar landscape which was designated by the Federation Council an “Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty”, its conservation allowing no further construction beyond Luna City’s current limits. The month long lunar orbital cycle dictated which part of the moon’s surface received sunlight over the cycle’s period. The current phase created a sharply delineated line running north to south between ground that was sun-drenched and deep shadow partway across the cratered plain to the east. In three more solar days, Kirk estimated, the shadow would be cast across Luna City and it wouldn’t see direct sunlight for another fourteen days.
A one hundred eighty degree turn and Kirk took in the spectacular outlook over the domed city which sat in a naturally formed crater below. It was a view designed to thrill tourists as they left the space port, but even he was moved by the sight of the great blue and white orb of planet Earth, in part darkness, dominating the sparkling, jewel-encrusted sky above.
Aldrin remained Kirk’s favorite spaceport. On one of his rare visits home, George Kirk had taken him and his older brother Sam on their first trip off-planet for a weekend of ‘spotting’. His father had chosen Aldrin over Luna City’s other spaceports, as it was by far the busiest, handling all the passenger flights from Earth, although they had spent a little time at the Armstrong Freightport too, watching a few cargo ships come in.
Kirk recalled the notebook his father had given each of them and wondered what had become of it. His father had encouraged them to record the registration details and type of every ship that docked in their book and during lulls in arrivals, had shared stories of his own space-faring exploits. He smiled at the memory of how he’d enthusiastically filled in page after page, while his brother—true to form—had grown bored, being of a more quietly studious temperament, and had pulled out a reader he had brought in his backpack.
Their father had also taken them to the Lunar Landing Museum, where he’d learnt about the earliest moon landings starting with those of the 20th century, and included exhibits of much of the original antiquated equipment that had been left behind. Kirk remembered the museum’s “Low-G” room, where gravity was ‘Moon-Normal’, or one sixth that of Earth. He’d loved bouncing excitedly around doing “Giant Leaps for Mankind”, while Sam had cried off quickly saying it made him feel nauseous. Funny, he thought now, how in the years since, he’d never suffered from space-sickness, while Sam had remained resolutely planet-bound.
Coming from the quiet backwater of a small Iowan town, he could still recall how exciting he had found the trip and how his fascination with space exploration had begun with that excursion. Later that year, his dad had sent him a telescope for Christmas and he had been completely hooked.
The ‘backwater’ issue had proven to be something of an embarrassing problem for Kirk, and although very common, it still troubled him. Until he was 17, he had grown up in two isolated communities, in Riverside, Iowa on his parent’s farm, and for two years, on Tarsus IV—a period of his life he had since buried the memories of. In both places, he had been surrounded almost exclusively by humans. Although as he grew up he saw many alien species on his trips to larger cities and on his few vacations off-planet, he had one problem. Until he got to know them, people from the same alien species looked very alike to him, and he found from cursory meetings that it was hard to recall the features of non-humans enough to recognize them next time they met. He had a number of memory systems to assist with this, but it was far from fool-proof with some, such as the avians of Betelgeuse whose differences in plumage and beak markings were very subtle, or some of the reptilian races, continuing to defy him. He would make a terrible diplomat.
Kirk leant against the cool surface of the window looking out towards Earth and scratched irritably at his beard, wondering if the facial hair he sported as part of his disguise would ever stop feeling itchy. He silently cursed Nogura. The wily old admiral knew a chance for some good publicity when he saw it, and within a month of their meeting, Starfleet had made a public announcement of his appointment. He’d been ordered to spend an entire week at the old Four Seasons hotel in downtown San Francisco giving interview after interview to the media. It could have been worse, Kirk smiled to himself—the cute publicist they had assigned to babysit him had turned out to be quite an inventive sex kitten.
He’d been a good officer, sticking carefully to brief by stressing the exploratory and scientific nature of his up-coming five year mission. Starfleet needed to counter all the negative press it seemed to constantly receive from pacifist Federation members who saw the organization as little more than an aggressive military machine. Coming from Vulcan, the powers-that-be had mooted the idea of lining up his Science Officer too, to emphasize the point, but in the end for whatever reason, it had just been him.
What came next still left him aggrieved and was the reason he was sporting the stupid beard. The blanket news exposure meant he was recognized everywhere he went, and the final straw was an incident that truly reached the point of beyond-intrusiveness. He’d been out having a meal in a fancy restaurant with an old Academy classmate and had gone to the men’s room to take a leak. While he’d stood at the urinal, a man at the one next to him had asked him for his autograph. Shoulda peed on his shoes, Kirk thought with an inward smile, only now able to see the funny side of it. At the time, he’d sworn at the man and after a perfunctory washing of his hands, had stalked out fuming.
The following day, he decided to head east to the sanctuary of his former home in Iowa for a two week break with his mom. He frowned as he recalled the row that had abruptly ended that visit after little more than a week. After all the hype, never had he craved peace and anonymity so much, but there was no escaping the fact that he was now Riverside’s most famous resident. Consequently, there had been a constant stream of visiting family, friends and locals he barely knew or was certain he’d never met before.
While for the most part his mother hadn’t actively encouraged it, neither did she discourage it. Not fully comprehending the pressure and strain he’d been under, she hadn’t understood his need for solitude any more than he had understood her need to share her pride in him with just about everyone within a fifty kilometer radius of their farm. In the end, after their third argument, he’d terminated his visit early.
A few hours ago, he finally felt he’d calmed down enough to call her and apologize and they’d said goodbye on good terms. He didn’t know when he was next going to see his mom and hadn’t wanted to head out with bad blood between them.
As he now stood gazing at the ethereal beauty of his home planet, watching the shadow of dawn creep inexorably westward across central Europe and Africa, he reflected that coming here had been a good choice. He had needed to escape—to get off-planet—but with too little time to travel far, Luna City had been an obvious option.
After what he now labeled “The Men’s Room Incident”, vacationing incognito had become a necessity to avoid being constantly pestered. An old Academy friend, now working in Starfleet Intelligence, had come to his rescue, helping him create a disguise. She’d got him a powerful hair accelerant not available on the open market, which had done the job rather nicely, he thought. He now sported wavy, shoulder-length hair and the irritatingly itchy beard. He’d ruined a good tee-shirt when they’d used a dye to make it all a dark reddish-brown, and managed to get the stuff everywhere. But it had worked surprisingly well—not once had he been pestered for an autograph.
‘Raffles’, Luna City’s most exclusive spa hotel, was used to catering to high-profile clients, who were fiercely protective of their privacy. Kirk had counted on this when with the discreet and sympathetic hotel manager's blessing, he’d registered under a pseudonym—choosing James Tooley in honor of his father’s Irish ancestors. Accommodation at the spa had cost him an arm and a leg, but having availed himself of many of the pamperings on offer, he was now feeling considerably more relaxed, making it worth the expense. Anyway, he reasoned, being in deep space for the next five years, what else was he going to spend his hard-earned credits on?
By the time Kirk entered the shuttleport terminal, he had already walked over two kilometers and the meal was not sitting quite so heavily. The arrivals lounge was deserted; taxis, hotel reps and guides touting for business, as well as locals meeting and greeting, would all be in the baggage hall on the level below.
One part of the large hall was designated a viewing area, with a floor-to-ceiling panoramic window looking out over the landing pad. A number of viewing monitors with a high zoom capacity had also been helpfully provided, trained on Earth and its immediate vicinity, where many spaceships, space stations and satellites orbited. Kirk went over to where he had sat with his brother and father almost twenty five years earlier and took a seat in front of a monitor. It took him less than a minute to find the Gagarin spacestation which currently housed the Enterprise…my ship, he thought, still with a sense of wonder.
His attention was diverted by the sight of the evening shuttle lining up for touchdown. He watched it come to rest and the docking arm extend to line up with the forward hatch like a giant caterpillar stretching in the sun. Within minutes, the area was filled with the noise of welcome announcements and the chatter of excited disembarking passengers, led by those sitting at the front in First Class. One of them, a young, shapely brunette caught his eye and he realized he hadn’t had sex since his romps with the Starfleet publicist. He looked again at the woman and acknowledged she was beautiful and probably classy, but he felt no little hitch of his breath, or an increase in adrenaline and certainly no stirrings down there. Maybe he needed something a bit more exotic.
He noticed passengers peeled off into two streams, those with only hand luggage heading directly to the main exit, while the rest made their way down escalators to the level below. With a small smile he noticed how they seemed to hurry expectantly, just as he himself had a few days earlier, as if hoping their baggage would already be waiting for them. Despite all the advances in space and travel technology, it rarely was.
Nearly all the passengers had come through when Kirk noticed a stern-looking man, dressed from head to foot in black, carrying a small valise. It was only as the passenger was level with him that he caught sight of the upswept eyebrows which, together with his ears, were almost completely hidden from view by his long, jet-black hair. His recent research on the Vulcan race in preparation to working with Lieutenant Commander Spock meant he was very aware of the deceptive strength and power contained in that tall, slim frame. As he watched the Vulcan gracefully cross the lounge towards the main exit, his breath hitched, the adrenaline coursed and there was a stirring. Now that, he acknowledged with a wry smile, was exotic.
Seeing the Vulcan reminded Kirk that Spock was proving to be quite a puzzle as far as personal biographical data was concerned. In fact he had never before seen such sparse Starfleet records and wondered what the deal was with his Science Officer. He was listed simply as ‘Spock’ together with his date of birth and the fact he was half Vulcan, half Human. No family name, no parents’ names, no home city and no educational details prior to Starfleet Academy were listed. He was also clearly camera-shy as there were few photos of him beyond a handful of official ones. He was aware that Vulcan was one of the most private—some said secretive—of the Federation members, but even so, Spock’s lack of personal data was all very peculiar and both official and unofficial probings had left him none the wiser.
Spock’s record since enlisting with Starfleet, on the other hand, was plentiful. It was exemplary, showing him to be hugely accomplished—an Academy Valedictorian with the highest computer rating in the ‘Fleet, an IQ score that was off the scale and a string of qualifications as long as his arm—both his arms, probably—he amended with a smile. In fact, a part of Kirk, normally so self-assured, was actually a little intimidated by the thought of that enigmatic Vulcan.
The arrivals lounge was once again deserted and Kirk decided to head back towards his hotel for the final night of his brief sojourn.
Lieutenant Commander Spock stared out the window towards the edifice that housed Aldrin Shuttleport as the passenger bridge extended to dock with the craft, reflecting sardonically that the best part of the flight had been the landing. His last-minute booking had resulted in his being able to procure only a tourist class seat on the evening shuttle. Obviously the company running the shuttle service wished to maximize their profits and they did this, as Spock had discovered to his cost, by cramming as many seats into the ship as they could. As a result, he had been forced to sit in cramped conditions with his long legs jammed up against the seat in front. The passenger in said seat had clearly objected to having his bony knees thrusting into her back and as a protest, had pushed back on her seat a number of times, causing him a certain degree of added discomfort.
To make matters worse, his assigned seat was the center one of a block of three, between a portly lady who spilled over from her own seat both towards him and into the aisle, and a young man beside the window who seemed intent on imbibing as much beer as possible on the journey, resulting in frequent visits to the head that entailed them all having to stand twice each visit. He had suggested, with faint hope, that they swap seats, but the man confessed to being a nervous flyer and wished to remain by the window so he could see any hazards before the ship hit them. Clearly there was no arguing with someone so irrational and Spock let the matter drop.
As a Starfleet Officer, Spock would have been top of the list for an upgrade and could have increased his odds of a better seat, had he not been travelling incognito. His most recently published paper on where the line should be drawn between artificial intelligence and sentience was somewhat controversial and had split the field of computer science down the middle. He knew that many of his fellow scientists attending the computer technology conference would want to question him about his conclusions.
Had he attended the full week, he would have welcomed the debate. As it was, his late arrival meant he was there for one day only and he intended to listen to one lecture and leave. As far as he was concerned, the fewer people who knew he was there, the better. Having just spent the past few months on Regor VI, during which time his hair had grown long enough to cover his ears, and his straight bangs had gone, he was reasonably sure he would remain unrecognized.
The shuttle Captain made the usual farewell announcement during the docking process and then illuminated the disembarkation light. As one, everybody stood up, even though for those more than halfway along the shuttle it would be many minutes before they would be able to move from their position. Therefore, having risen with no-where to go, this necessitated the taller passengers closest to the viewports standing in what looked to Spock to be uncomfortably awkward positions in order to avoid their heads making contact with the overhead storage lockers, a state of affairs Spock found quite illogical. Since he was in the penultimate seat row, it would be some time before he and his travel companions would be leaving and, remaining seated, resigned himself to a few more minutes wedged in.
While she stood waiting, the woman in the seat in front of him took the opportunity to turn and throw Spock dirty looks—illogical since he clearly had been unable either to shorten his legs or increase the distance of his seat from hers. Ignoring her, he reflected on his up-coming five year assignment.
He was sorry that both his captain and exec were leaving; the three of them had established a more than satisfactory working relationship over the years of their mission. In particular, Spock had begun to understand Pike's methods, illogical though they sometimes were, and had appreciated Number One’s objectivity and lack of emotionalism, to be commended in a human. Now he was about to be thrust into the unknown with a new captain and FO. Change, he reflected, was one of the few constants in his life.
Starfleet had sent him a brief of Kirk’s official biodata and military record, which was outstanding for one of his age. His new commander had already been awarded a number of honors and medals for bravery and his rise through the ranks had been little short of meteoric, establishing him somewhat controversially as the youngest starship captain in Starfleet’s history. While Spock was aware that others questioned the wisdom of this move, he accepted unequivocally Nogura’s decision to give one so young (by Vulcan standards) such a huge and high-profile responsibility. The admiral had a fine mind and was an exceptional strategist—needed in the complex political world of Starfleet. He would not have given Kirk the job had he not had absolute belief in his ability to do it well.
Spock gazed out the viewport to the sight of the moon’s mother planet suspended above the horizon, the shadow of dawn falling along the eastern Atlantic rim, and beyond it, the particular configuration of solar planets, constellations and star clusters as viewed from Earth that he had become familiar with in the night sky during his Academy days. Other than the brief transit from an interstellar flight to the Luna City shuttle, it had been quite some time since he had last visited the planet of his mother’s family.
Spock was reminded how he had had narrowly avoided being ordered to Earth to participate in the publicity drive Starfleet had organized for the Enterprise and her new captain—an onerous task he would have endured out of duty. Over the course of his career, he had accrued a great deal of leave, so while the ship was undergoing an overhaul of the engines and major systems upgrades, he had decided to take full advantage of the down time. Unable to return to his home on Vulcan since his father had disowned him, he instead left no forwarding address and headed to Regor VI where he had spent three months assisting on a fascinating new excavation of a former Vulcan colony. By the time an officer from Fleet intelligence had tracked him down, it was too late for him to participate.
Random occurrences had favored him a second time. In not being called back on duty, Spock had been on hand three days later to witness the unearthing of the entrance to a large underground burial chamber. The find was so significant that without a second thought, he had cancelled the bookings for the flight and hotel he had made several months earlier to attend the computer technology conference in order to remain on site until the last possible moment. This had allowed him a unique opportunity to participate in an important and major archeological discovery. Having once read Howard Carter’s journal of his discovery of King Tutankhamen’s tomb, he believed after his experience on Regor VI that he had understood the old archeologist’s fervor in his work.
There had been thirty two members on the archeological team, including a number of Vulcans. One, a former professor from the Vulcan Academy, had been the source of his invitation to join them. Other than when working and meal times, he had generally preferred to keep his own company after he found himself the object of amorous interest from two sources: a young human woman and an unbonded Vulcan male, both of whom he had found attractive and engaging as individuals.
The sexual element had not been the issue—he had experienced a number of one-night liaisons since his days at the Academy—it was that he had not wished to participate in a relationship where there might be an expectation on the part of the other of a continuance. Although his pre-marital bond to T’Pring could be annulled, his new mission would involve him spending considerable lengths of time in deep space—an unsatisfactory state of affairs upon which to form a union. His choice to remain apart had not affected his working relationships, and he had not remained unmoved when the entire team had held a leaving reception for him on his final night. They had been good people.
Starfleet required him to be available to report for duty seven solar days prior to Captain Pike’s hand-over to Captain Kirk. He had calculated a route back to Earth that, while more expensive, would allow him to reach Luna City in time to attend the last day of the conference and hear the closing lecture by Dr. Richard Daystrom—the man he regarded as the greatest living computer scientist.
Unfortunately, last-minute plans came with a cost; he had managed to obtain the flights but had been unable to book accommodation. Several hotels had stated that they would not know if they would have any rooms as a result of last minute cancellations until the day he was due to arrive. Now that he was here, he had he calculated the probability of finding accommodation at 6.7%, although he was quite unconcerned as he had achieved his main objective.
Spock's attention returned to the present as passengers directly in front began to move and he was able at last to stand up and stretch his legs for the first time in nearly two hours. Collecting his hand baggage he exited down the connecting bridge. By the time he reached the arrivals hall it was almost empty, and having no hold baggage, he was able to make his way direct to the exit. After being cramped for so long, he decided to forego a taxi and encourage blood circulation to return to his lower limbs by walking down to the heart of Luna City where all the hotels were located.
Arriving back at his suite, Kirk caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror near the door and reacted to the darkly hirsute face staring back, still unused to this disguise. The only part of him that looked recognizable were his eyes.
The suite had an in-house entertainment system set in its own area, where he started a quiet game of computer chess until restlessness broke his concentration. He investigated some of the more energetic interactive games, but none caught his interest—his mind was elsewhere. Tomorrow he would be heading back to Earth and a week after that, he would be beaming aboard to take command of the Enterprise.
The prospect of such responsibility was more than a little daunting.
Following the loss of over 200 lives on the USS Farragut, including his own captain’s, the FO had written a glowing report on Kirk and had recommended him for a commendation for his actions and bravery. Yet despite that, it had taken him years to really believe he had done all he could as a young wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant in such harrowing circumstances. In its way, the event had been his own kobayashi maru and so, more than his command training, it was his hard-won experience that taught him to understand a little fear is healthy. It would keep him on edge and complacency at bay.
Now that the names of all 430 of his crew had been finalized, Starfleet had sent them his official bio, and he found himself wondering how they might be feeling about having such a young captain; half his senior team were older than him.
He was about to experience, for the first time, the loneliness of command. Most of the crew would already have established working relationships and possible friendships and he was glad he was going to have the friendly faces of Gary and Bones to start with. That said, his new CMO was delayed on Delta Hydra II, heading a team who were on the verge of a breakthrough in finding an antidote to a plague that was threatening to become pandemic. With both Mitchell, and to a lesser extent McCoy—since the doctor carried greater maturity and wisdom—he recognized he would need to quickly establish the boundaries between their friendships and professional relationships.
While he was certain he would be able to build a good rapport with most of his command team, the one he was uncertain of was Lt. Cdr. Spock. Bones, he had found out the previous week when they had spoken by vid-comm from his mom’s house, had already met Spock a couple of times at symposiums and had apparently been unimpressed, privately describing him as a ‘pointy-eared walking computer’. Since Medical and Sciences often had to work closely together, and knowing how emotional McCoy could get when ruffled—not something a Vulcan would likely appreciate—he would have to watch them closely.
Realistically, Kirk realized, there was little likelihood of his ever establishing any kind of meaningful friendship with Spock. Pike, he had heard, had made little impression on that front, although it was said that the Vulcan was very loyal to him. Kirk suspected that Spock was someone that he was going to have to work on; even loyalty had to be earned.
All in all, though, he really did have the best of the best, and they would no doubt have high expectations of him as their captain. From his own similar experiences on his way up the career ladder, he knew that until they got used to him and he had gained their trust, his command team, and the rest of the crew, would inevitably be privately comparing him to Chris Pike—and he was all too aware of that captain’s formidable reputation. All he could do was his best too.
Kirk's mind returned to the present. Having packed most of his belongings in preparation for the journey home the following day, he decided he was too wide awake to sleep. He had spent the previous two evenings in clubs and although he had had offers from several attractive women of company for the night, he had not been interested. It left him wondering whether he was getting a little jaded with it all; no doubt a few months in deep space would turn that back around, he thought wryly. Tonight he didn’t feel like going too far afield, so decided to pay the hotel bar a visit.
Situated to one side of the main lobby, the bar was packed with people from the computer conference, all wearing badges of identification. The large bar was filled with tables, some of which contained virtual vid-games for entertainment, while others had old-style board games and decks of cards.
Having drunk wine with his meal, Kirk decided not to mix drinks and ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio from the bartender. The place was busy and walking around with glass in hand, he was unable at first to find a free table. There was a free chair at a large table close to the bar, occupied by Tellarites playing poker, but he dismissed it, not wishing to join in.
Just as he resigned himself to having to prop up the bar, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted three Rigellians vacating a table and swiftly made his way over. On it, stood a three-dimensional chess board with the pieces in a stale-mate position. As he took his seat, his eye was caught by the Vulcan he had seen earlier at the spaceport making his way across the lobby to the check-in desk, and he felt the shadow of a tingle course through him.
Spock had one more hotel to try before finally exhausting his list—the most exclusive hotel in Luna City. Walking up to the counter, he inquired after rooms.
“Do you have a reservation, sir?” the desk clerk asked him, as he had been asked at every other establishment. The tone of his voice already suggested if he had not, the earlier calculated odds at finding somewhere for the night would need to be revised downward.
“No,” he responded with an almost sigh.
“I’m sorry we’re fully booked until tomorrow. You could try—”
“I have tried them all,” Spock interrupted before he was given a list. “Thank you,” he added and turned to leave.
Working at ‘Raffles’, the clerk was used to dealing with celebrity divas, overbearing politicians and spoilt rich kids, with their rude demands. He found himself taken by the polite, unassuming Vulcan.
“Excuse me, sir.” Spock turned back and gave the young man his full attention. “We just might have a room, but I won't know for sure for another hour or two. Two rooms have been reserved by clients coming in on the late night shuttle from Earth. If either of them don't show, the room's yours. Until then, you can leave your bag with the concierge and if you stay in the hotel complex, I can get you paged as soon I know one way or another.”
Spock put down his valise. “I am most gratified by your assistance.”
“Do you have your ID?” the clerk asked.
“I do, however,” Spock leaned a little closer and lowered his voice, “I would ask that you grant me a... favor.”
“Sure, what is it?” the clerk asked in a lowered tone, unconsciously leaning towards Spock.
“When you page me, you use the name Spenn. I do not wish to draw attention to myself,” he explained.
The clerk was intrigued, although he was very used to his clients wishing to protect their privacy. He could tell from the quality of the Vulcan’s clothes he was from wealthy stock. Curious, he took the ID card from Spock and read the name.
“Right commander, no problem. I've heard of you—my sister’s in Starfleet. You're on one of those big ships, the... the... Endeavour?”
“Enterprise,” corrected Spock.
“Right, Mr. Spenn. Leave it with me.”
The sound of voices on the other side of the lobby drew Spock to the hotel bar.
Kirk enjoyed ‘people watching’ and the bar’s clientele gave him quite a variety. Being so close to Earth, the majority of visitors to Luna City were generally human, but with the computer conference going on, the place was filled with a real mix of species. In fact, with the exception of Vulcan, he estimated that all the major Federation member planets were represented in this one place alone. The Vulcans, he reflected with an inward smile, did not have a taste for alcohol, nor crowded places such as this. In fact, in all his years in Starfleet, he could probably count the number of Vulcans he had seen in bars on one hand. They were more likely to be gathered some place quiet like the botanical gardens, no doubt debating in their logical way.
With a frown, Kirk caught himself. Stereotyping was not a good basis for a working relationship with one of his crew. Just as every human was unique, so was every Vulcan, he reminded himself, and being half-human made Spock even more so. He would need to watch that he didn’t allow pre-conceived ideas or beliefs to determine the quality of the early interactions they had while he was getting to know the officer better.
As if on cue, Kirk's attention was suddenly drawn to the entrance of the bar, through which the by-now familiar Vulcan walked, giving him a jolt of surprise. His eyes followed the dark-clad man as he made his way to the counter, noting how his movements were both fluid and poised.
With his dark looks, he cut quite a dashing figure wearing all black. The epitome of a tall, dark, handsome stranger, thought Kirk, and the earlier tingle intensified. He idly wondered whether the Vulcan had deliberately chosen black because he was aware that it complimented his natural coloring. Unlikely, he quickly amended, since that smacked of vanity and was inconsistent with everything he’d read about the logical race.
From behind the chess set, Kirk was able to study the Vulcan closely as he turned to survey the room, noticing his distinguished features and the lean, athletic body that held so much hidden power. He felt his body reacting more strongly, with a familiar stirring at his groin. Hmm, he pondered, and stroked his beard idly. What are the odds, he wondered, of a night with him? He didn’t often find men sexually attractive; his record showed that on the Kinsey scale he was towards the hetero end—but not entirely out of the bisexual range either—which would account for his very occasional forays in that direction.
What it would be like to have sex with a Vulcan? Did they even indulge outside of bondings? During his research, he hadn’t found much information on their pairing rituals beyond a description of the telepathic union of bondmates. Same-sex partnerships, he assumed, would be considered illogical. Perhaps when he got to know Spock better, he speculated, he might be able to ask him some questions concerning Vulcan culture and mores.
Kirk enjoyed diversity and had had sex with many races, mostly on a casual basis, and pretty much all of them female, and there had been one or two androgynous ones in there too. The few men he had slept with had all been human and like this Vulcan tonight, they had all been very Alpha. They offered a complete contrast to his female companions, not just in the obvious physical differences, but he enjoyed being able to handle them more roughly than he felt comfortable with a woman. He liked the raw power of sex with another male, that when he ran his mouth along their hard muscles, he had the odd sensation that their strength was being transferred to him.
With a start, Kirk realized that his gaze was being met and looked away guiltily, flushing as he did so. Picking up a chess piece as an excuse for something to do, he decided to set up the board, while covertly continuing to watch the Vulcan.
Spock took his glass of juice and having checked, found himself with two choices: the free chair at a table where a poker game was in progress, or where a man was sitting alone setting up a chess board. As he watched the young human, he considered why he might have been staring at him in such an odd manner. He had immediately discounted being recognized—that wasn’t the look, and neither was it a hostile one. No matter, he thought, as he made his way over.
“May I?” he asked, standing beside an empty chair.
“Oh... yes of course,” replied Kirk, a little flustered. The Vulcan looked even more gorgeous closer up. Kirk would have liked to have believed he had deliberately chosen his table, but knew without looking that the bar being so crowded, there had been little choice, unless he liked poker.
Feeling slightly embarrassed at having been caught staring, Kirk was careful to aim only the occasional look his way as the Vulcan sipped his drink in silence and stared at some point over his left shoulder. All around them, people conducted earnest conversations, or played recreational games, which to the human made the silence between them all the more obvious, yet the Vulcan appeared to him quite calm and unruffled, not in the least uncomfortable with the lack of communication.
Too intrigued by him not to try, Kirk decided on an opening gambit. “Allow me to introduce myself: I'm James... Tooley; my friends call me Jim.” Out of habit as he’d been using it since his arrival, Kirk gave him his alias. Almost as soon as the name left his mouth, he realized he probably needn’t have worried, since even if the Vulcan had heard of him, he probably would be too polite to say so. But to change it now would require an explanation he didn’t want to have to go into.
Spock looked up into a pair of very expressive hazel eyes, and as he did so, the human’s face broke out into a warm smile, the dark beard making his even teeth look all the whiter.
“I am Spenn.” Spock did not even hesitate to use his false identity since he had no idea if this man was one of the conference delegates whom he wished to avoid. Beyond that, he was soon to be paged by that name, making using it logical.
“Are you here for the conference?” Kirk asked after a long pause. Conversation clearly wasn’t going to be easy.
“I have just arrived and will attend the final day tomorrow. Are you?”
“No. Just here on vacation.”
Kirk's knowledge of computers ran to no great depth compared to the experts all around him and while he tried to think of a subject that might be of interest to the Vulcan, they lapsed again into silence. As Kirk expected, Spenn was not exactly talkative. Noticing he had nearly finished his juice Kirk, ever the tactician, had an inspired thought that might keep him there a little longer.
“Do you play chess, Spenn?” Kirk smiled. He had remained the unbeaten chess champion while a cadet at the Starfleet Academy. Never having played against a Vulcan himself, he had heard that they made formidable players, but felt reasonably confident he could hold his own with this man.
Spock raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question. “Affirmative.”
“Would you be willing to play a game with me?”
Spock eyed his inquisitor doubtfully. No human had ever come close to beating him and many had lasted only a few moves. However, since there was nothing else to occupy him while he waited for his name to be paged, he decided to agree. “Very well.”
Spock found himself not entirely unaffected when his companion smiled, his eyes appearing to glow. After choosing colors, the human pulled white and moved first and within minutes, Spock realized he was up against a superior player and found himself revising his initial impression of the man before him. What he found fascinating was that his chess partner made many of his moves after only a short pause and since the tactics he employed appeared highly illogical, it was almost impossible for Spock to predict his moves, making any strategy he attempted to employ, redundant.
Meanwhile, his opponent opened a discussion on Federation politics and Spock found himself considering what his occupation might be. The diplomatic corps was a possibility, he speculated, however not wishing to pry, he patiently waited for the subject to arise naturally during the course of the conversation. Spock was most intrigued.
He took the opportunity to study the human anew, whenever he was preoccupied by the board. They appeared to be of similar age and he was possessed of attractive... Spock halted his train of thought. Yes, he conceded, the human was attractive. He could also see that he was aware of this fact and if their interaction was anything to go by, he actively used it to charm others. He found it interesting that he himself was not entirely immune.
Spock resumed his study, noticing the bright, alert eyes which seemed to change shade, looking lighter and gold-flecked when he was excited, just as a moment ago when the human had put him in check, to a warmer brown when he simply looked up from beneath his long lashes and smiled warmly. Being in a seated position, he was unable to gauge the man’s height, but noticed that the thin fabric of his shirt which clung to the contours of his body, showed him to be fit and muscular. All in all, he acknowledged to himself, he liked what he saw.
Unknown to Spock, Kirk was undertaking a similar appraisal. Close up, he was younger than he first thought, although it was difficult to tell with Vulcans. His skin was smooth with the palest green tint to it. Under the up-swept eyebrows, one of which seemed to rise endearingly nearly every time he moved a piece and made him want to smile, were dark eyes that he guessed missed little. Apart from occasional glimpses, his trademark pointed ears were mostly hidden beneath ebony hair that almost reached the collar of his tunic and looked as though it would be soft and silky to the touch. Kirk found himself wishing he could reach out and see for himself.
During the game they continued to talk, both carefully keeping the conversation away from the subject of Starfleet. After over an hour, when neither man was any closer to winning and there were more captured pieces on the table than on any of the levels, a detached voice requested that Mr. Spenn report to the check-in desk.
Spock rose from his seat. “If you will excuse me Mr. Tooley, I will return shortly.”
Kirk stood up as Spenn left, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he and watched the Vulcan head towards the check-in desk. Spenn had called him Mr. Tooley, even though he had asked to be called Jim. It took him a few minutes to realize how he had phrased the request: ‘my friends call me Jim’. Logically, the Vulcan wouldn’t see himself as an actual friend and therefore wouldn’t consider himself entitled to use his first name. Kirk admonished himself for the lapse and realized that since he would be working closely with a Vulcan for the next five years, he was going to have to brush up on his logic if there were not to be misunderstandings.
While Spock was away, Kirk studied the board, looking to see the most devious moves he could make, as they seemed to elicit the most reaction from Spenn and he was enjoying doing so. When he returned and sat, Kirk favored him with another of his bright smiles. But intuition told him there was something in Spenn’s demeanor that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, that caused his smile to falter. “Is there something wrong?”
Spock inwardly started, surprised at the Human's perceptiveness since he had thought he had carefully masked all reaction to the desk-clerk’s news. “Until now, the hotel was not in a position to confirm if there were vacancies. However, I have been informed there are not. My attempt to secure lodgings have met with the same result at every other hotel.”
“I see.” Kirk’s heart was beating fast, but he kept his face carefully schooled to neutral. “What do you intend to do?”
“I have no contingency. It is not imperative that I sleep—I merely require somewhere to meditate. I will ask the concierge when I collect my luggage if there is a suitably quiet location.”
Kirk wanted to invite the Vulcan to his room but wondered if it was a bit precipitous. “Your move, Spenn,” he said instead.
The game lasted a further hour when, with only five pieces remaining, Spock found himself defeated. He had seen it coming several moves earlier, but instinct told him not to concede, that his opponent would want to continue to its final conclusion and would derive greater enjoyment from it, and he was not above indulging him this.
“Congratulations, you are the first human to beat me. Some of your moves were…” Spock sought to find a suitable word that would not give offense.
“Cunning?” Kirk suggested with a grin.
“Indeed,” he agreed, allowing his face to soften and his mouth to curve upwards in amusement. “On a number of occasions when I had thought I was close to defeating you, instead I found you had lured me into a trap I had not foreseen.”
Kirk’s heart skipped a beat at the warm look on the Vulcan’s face. “It was a close thing. You nearly caught me twice,” he conceded.
Spock’s attention was diverted by a loud argument that had erupted from somewhere behind him. He glanced around to assess the situation and on seeing the source of the dispute was the table of Tellarites, he quickly turned back before his action could be perceived as a threat.
Both Kirk and Spock knew of the dangers of drunken Tellarites. Add anger to the mix in a species known for its tendency for aggression and the result was an almost foregone conclusion. They had sat in tense silence for a minute as the loud accusations of cheating and abuse escalated, when Kirk suddenly leapt up and said urgently, “Watch out, behind you!”
Spock spun around, his quick reflexes allowing him to spring out of the way as a Tellarite went sprawling past, knocking over several of the Rigellian occupants at the next table. Bolstered by alcohol, they took exception to being flattened and lashed out. Within seconds, a major brawl had started.
Kirk floored one of the Rigellians who had managed to land a punch to his jaw, grateful that his beard had cushioned him from the worst of the impact. Catching something out of the corner of his eye he ducked, neatly avoiding the flying fist of another who had taken exception to his friend being knocked out.
Meanwhile an Andorian, who was clearly taking advantage of the opportunity for a good punch-up, was heading menacingly his way. Before Kirk had a chance to decide which to go for first, he saw the Vulcan leap towards him and neckpinch the Rigellian. As the victim slid to the floor, he turned with a brief but grateful grin towards the Vulcan. Realizing Spenn would be unable to help him out with the Andorian as he was on the wrong side of the table and a writhing group of beings intent on knocking each other out, Kirk stood his ground when the pale blue fist headed towards his face. He expertly blocked it, issued three of his own in rapid succession into his assailant's solar plexus and as the man doubled over completely winded, karate-chopped him over the back of the head twice and sent him cold to the floor in a textbook piece of unarmed self-defense.
Knowing Andorians to be generally stronger than humans, Spock had thought his help would be required and had managed to pick his way to the human’s side. However, by the time he got there, the smaller man’s evident expertise in hand-to-hand combat was obvious and Spock's face clearly registered his surprise.
Kirk threw him another grin and grabbed his arm, noting that no-one had yet dared to go near the Vulcan—no-one was that drunk or that stupid. “C'mon Spenn. Let's get out before security get here.”
Spock had no idea where the Human was taking him, but was nevertheless willing to be led. As they crossed the hotel lobby looking to all the world as though they had just been for a quiet walk, a security squad appeared and dashed towards the bar, phasers at the ready.
No longer in danger of being arrested, Kirk turned to the Vulcan. “Look. I've been thinking about your accommodation problem. I've got a suite in this hotel which I'm vacating tomorrow. You're more than welcome to share it.” He knew enough about Vulcans to be aware they were fiercely protective of their privacy and didn’t really expect a positive answer, but thought he had nothing to lose by trying.
Spock felt a spark within him. “I will accept your generous offer,” he responded, and was favored with a warm smile…and something else less definable.
After collecting his valise from the concierge, he was able for the first time to observe the human fully as he was led to the room. He was a little shorter than he and wore tight-fitting clothes that were designed to show off his trim body. He walked with a light spring in his step and exuded an air of quiet self-assurance. Although it was not overt, the overall effect was of strength and power and Spock felt the pull and resisted.
When they arrived, he followed Kirk into the spacious room. Near the door stood a small lounge area, with two small couches flanking a coffee table and a dining table for two. But dominating the room was a king-sized divan. Although he had nothing upon which to base the assumption, he had been expecting twin beds.
“I'll take one of the couches,” the human said, as if guessing his thoughts.
Spock eyed the seats dubiously. “They are too small to sleep on.”
Holding the dark eyes, he smiled warmly. “I assure you, I'll be quite comfortable sleeping on the couch—it converts into a bed.”
Spock spent a moment in consideration before nodding his head. “Very well. However, I insist I take the couch.”
“The couch is designed for a child, Spenn—your feet would hang off the end. Since I’m shorter than you, logically I should take it.”
Spock conceded that the argument offered was indeed quite logical and inclined his head in agreement.
With some relief that he hadn’t scared the Vulcan off, Kirk’s smile returned. “I'll just go have a shower, then the bathroom’s yours. Make yourself comfortable while you're waiting.”
Now that he had the Vulcan in his bedroom, Kirk found he needed to spend a little longer than he had expected under the water, as he tried to think of things that would make his erection go away—wasting it with a quick jerk-off was out of the question if there was a possibility of bedding the gorgeous Vulcan. When he had finally succeeded, he climbed out and quickly ran a towel over himself.
He had deliberately not taken a robe into the bathroom, and so exited, naked and still slightly damp, and wandered around looking through the drawers and closets for a pillow and spare blankets. He realized that parading about in the nude was a rather unsubtle tactic, but hoped that if Spenn found him attractive and was up for a one-night stand, it might help things along.
Spock, meanwhile, was seated on a couch facing the bed and pretended to be reading the hotel’s guest information datapadd. He was not entirely surprised at the nude display and suppressed any outward manifestation of his amusement at the human’s forwardness, while appreciating the sight of the lithe, glistening body as he covertly followed him as he moved around the room.
The human’s skin was golden in color and largely hairless, with a broad chest showing off well-defined pectorals, banded abdominals and muscular thighs that rippled as he moved, showing him to be in the peak of physical fitness. A line of hair led down from his naval to... He forced the thought from his mind and picking up his valise, searched for his robe before disappearing into the bathroom.
When Spock returned, the lights were down low and his room mate was now settled on a narrow cot that had folded out from the small couch with a blanket thrown over him. Walking over to the bed, he pulled back the blanket and keeping his robe on for extra warmth, climbed in. He was unaware that his every movement was being watched.
Turning out the light, Spock lay on his back. He had not realized quite how large the bed was until he was in it—it could have comfortably slept three. He thought of his host lying on the cramped sofa and entertained the idea of inviting him in. He was certainly sexually appealing, as well as showing himself to be intelligent and articulate and Spock was undeniably attracted to him. But more than that, there was a magnetism about him that he was finding hard to resist. He felt his penis stir with interest.
He was aware there was always the possibility he had misread the signals—humans were complex creatures and in the past, he had frequently misinterpreted or completely missed the nuances of their body language even in the most mundane of circumstances. If he was wrong, the bed was large enough for them to sleep comfortably. If he was correct, then it would likely be a rewarding night.
He came to a decision. “Mr. Tooley... “
“Please call me Jim, all my friends do,” interrupted Kirk.
“Jim. Now that I am in it, I realize this bed is somewhat larger than I had at first thought. It is illogical for you to sleep in cramped conditions when there is more than adequate space for two.”
Kirk knew he had to be open with Spenn about his attraction—he would be unable to share the bed if the Vulcan only wanted to sleep. He didn’t think the odds were in his favor as he felt reasonably certain Vulcans didn’t practice casual sex—at least he’d never heard of anyone who had bedded one. But he enjoyed nothing more than a situation where the odds were stacked against him. His willingness to take calculated risks paid off more often than would be expected.
His heart hammered in his chest at what he was going to say next. “Let me be honest with you, Spenn, and I hope what I’m about to say doesn’t offend you. I'm physically attracted to you and if I get in that bed, I think I’d find your proximity hard to resist… If you’re willing, I’d like to have sex with you. It’d be just for tonight, as I’m leaving Earth soon and I’ll be gone a long time. If you aren’t interested in me that way, then it’s best I stay here and I won’t bring up the subject again.”
“Indeed,” came the reply. “Your lack of proximity would not be unwelcome.”
In the darkness, Kirk blinked, hardly able to believe he had heard the Vulcan’s words.
The moment's hesitation caused Spock to softly call his name. “Jim?”
Kirk swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, anticipation making him already half-hard as he walked unsteadily in the pitch blackness towards the bed and bumped into it. A moment later, the lights came on at a low setting. The Vulcan was sitting up and the sight of his dark eyes looking at him with frank desire fired off his adrenal glands in anticipation of what was to follow and his cock lifted higher. The hot gaze moved down to take in his erection and his skin prickled as though a thousand tiny needles had been gently pressed into him. He realized immediately that though it had yet to begin, there was a quality to this encounter that was different... special; not just another notch on the bedpost.
The Vulcan removed his robe and dropped it on the floor as Kirk pulled back the sheets and climbed in. He wondered whether Spenn’s superior hearing would pick up the sound of his heart thudding hard against his ribs. A moment later and they were sitting side by side.
As though a silent signal passed between them, they leant forward, tilting their heads as they allowed their lips to brush. The touch was electric. Another tentative caress, lips parted and wet tongues slid and entwined in an exploratory kiss. It was as though the Vulcan’s touch completed a circuit and Kirk’s cock became rock hard. He laced his fingers through fine hair, wanting to hold him there, feeding from the sweetness of his mouth while the other hand moved to caress a pointed ear, feeling a tremor from the Vulcan as he did so.
Kirk broke away and scooted down the bed, the Vulcan following him down to reclaim his mouth. He could feel the Vulcan’s hot, hard sex against his hip and for the first time, with Spenn’s body pressed close to his, he became very aware of the significant difference in body temperature. The length and intensity of the ravishing kiss literally took his breath away and he was forced to pull back to suck some air into his lungs.
Kirk gasped when a wet mouth enclosed one of his nipples and made his cock throb. He slid his fingers through the soft, black hair and ran his thumb from the lobe to tip of one ear, finding himself quite captivated by them. Meanwhile, he felt Spenn’s tongue slither across his chest and then found his other nipple under a similar onslaught, the intense sensations that shot from chest to groin causing him to buck.
Suddenly and with little effort, he found Spenn reversing their positions so that he was above him, looking down into dark, seductive eyes. With their bodies pressed close together, their rigid cocks kissing, he leant down and assaulted Spenn’s mouth hungrily, sucking on the hot tongue.
Kirk ran a trail of kisses along the strong jawbone and up to a fleshy earlobe sucking it in and feeling a tremor run through the hot body below. He teased it, nibbled it and lapped at it, hearing small gasps and quickened breaths. Running his tongue up the length of the ear to the point, he dipped in the folds and curves on his way up before plunging his tongue deep inside the shell. The Vulcan gasped loudly and shuddered, almost throwing Kirk off him in the force. Obviously, Kirk thought, rather pleased with himself, he’d found another erogenous zone. As he moved back to suck at the lobe again, he decided that if such a thing existed, Vulcans would win the ‘Sexiest Ears in the Galaxy’ contest hands-down.
Kirk was, by now, acutely turned-on. Anchored by two large hands on his buttocks, they pushed and ground together, shafts rubbing and twitching against each other's, and for the first time, he was aware of the incredible, banked power of the virile male beneath him. It acted like an aphrodisiac, lifting him to even greater arousal.
Feeling he was close to climax and not yet ready for it to end, he pulled back and rolled off to take his first full look at the body that was giving him so much pleasure, visually devouring the Vulcan’s nakedness. His frame was slender, with fine musculature, less defined than a human’s, belying his formidable strength. Narrow shoulders gave way to a flat chest covered in curly black hair that partially hid two green nipples. His hips were lean, his thighs, steel-muscled and lying proud against a flat belly was the Vulcan’s hot, throbbing shaft, its double ridged corona verdant-flushed.
“Beautiful,” Kirk whispered, hardly aware he’d articulated his thought. Splaying out his hand, he slid it sensuously along the hot, dry skin from his collar bone to his hip. Then he looked up to the exotically handsome face, into desire-filled eyes and said, “I want to touch you.”
“Yes.” It was little more than a hiss.
A moment later Kirk’s fingers slipped around the magnificent firm flesh, acquainting himself with the dimension, the power and strength of the Vulcan’s desire for him. He ran his loosely-held fist in an exploratory stroke along its length, feeling the Vulcan shudder at his touch. Glancing up at Spenn’s face, he saw a pair of dark, impenetrable eyes watching him. Gripping the swollen shaft at the base and holding it upright, he slowly bent forward and touched it with his lips, sliding it into his mouth and licking it with his tongue. His heart went wild.
At the first touch, he heard Spenn gasp as he arched frantically, but ready for it, Kirk pulled back, still gripping the base with one hand and pressed firmly on his hips with the other.
“Easy,” Kirk whispered, his firm touch turning into a caress.
Leaning forward, he opened his mouth to take in the iron-hard tumescence, stroking the head with his lips and enjoying the bitter wetness of his leaking juices on his tongue. He felt tremors of ecstasy run through the lithe body as the Vulcan tangled his fingers and his hair. Kirk marveled at the look of him, every muscle taut on the hard, masculine body.
He rhythmically sucked and licked the head and as much of the shaft as he could comfortably get into his mouth, hearing the Vulcan, taking in air in short, heated breaths. With his free hand, he stroked up a corded inner thigh, coarse hair tickling his palm, until he encountered the small, round testes—about half the size of his own. Very carefully, he rolled them and the Vulcan widened his legs as he moaned deeply. The tormented sound reverberated through him and filled him with awe.
Kirk began to speed up the movements of his mouth, the steady drizzle of tangy liquid across his tongue and the irregular panting, fast and hard, signaling that the Vulcan was close. Every muscle of the body beneath him tensed impossibly and out of the corner of his eye he saw balled fists grab at the loose bedcovers.
As the Vulcan arched his back on the point of orgasm, Kirk sucked even more vigorously on the head, feeling the engorged flesh spasming reflexively, accompanied by grunts through clenched teeth, as hot fluid began to spurt in quick intervals across his tongue. He swallowed it all greedily, his own aching cock throbbing in sympathy. There was a raw sensuality in seeing such a controlled being lose it for a few, brief seconds.
He barely had time to kneel up when he found himself thrown onto his back and his mouth claimed in a fervent kiss which he enthusiastically reciprocated. Just as suddenly, the mouth was gone and then he watched as the Vulcan began a sensuous descent down his cock, feeling the head sliding along the roof of the hot mouth, taking all of him in as his tongue danced in circles around the shaft. Kirk gasped at the intense sensation and closing his eyes, felt Spenn suck deeply as he reversed direction and then pressed a flat tongue insistently against the underside of his cockhead. He was seized by a rush of sensation so powerful he couldn't contain it and bit his lower lip to hold back a scream of pleasure. Firm hands prevented him from lifting off the bed at the ravaging assault.
Kirk ran his fingers through the dark hair as he felt Spenn begin to gently stroke and caress his inner thighs and scrotum, all the while, his head bobbing slowly and up down, creating waves of rapture that set him alight. Everything the Vulcan was doing was magical and intense.
Kirk couldn’t last as he felt the orgasm well up in him, his entire body tensing as he teetered on the edge of annihilation. Nothing else existed except his burning flesh and the glistening moistness of that ruthlessly pleasure-giving mouth. He felt his cock begin to twitch and then shoot into the hot cavern, crying out as, with a shuddering release, his seed spurted into the Vulcan’s throat in a series of fiery explosions.
Sated, they shared languid kisses and then settled into each other’s embrace to allow the oblivion of sleep to take them.
Spock knew the moment Jim had awoken. It was the middle of the night, Luna City time, and the human in his arms had slept for three point two hours. He felt a kiss pressed to his shoulder where Jim’s head rested before the human stretched his whole body for a moment.
“Hi,” he said quietly and Spock felt fingers tickle the hair on his chest as he switched the light onto a low setting.
“Good morning, Jim.” Spock watched as the human pushed himself up onto his elbow.
“Did you get any sleep?” His face held concern.
“For a brief time, yes. It was sufficient.” As Jim settled himself back down in his arms, Spock considered a question he had for the human, curious as to the answer. “Jim, did you ask me to share your room because you wished to have sexual congress with me?” he asked, finally.
Jim took a moment to answer. “No. Obviously I find you very attractive, but even if I hadn’t, I still would have made the offer of the room. I enjoyed the chess game and our discussions and I was grateful for your company. Plus you saved my bacon down there when that brawl started. You had a need, I had a solution, and I freely offered it.”
Spock could hear the sincerity in his words. “Bacon?” he asked, aware that his mother’s language contained many strange idioms. This was one he had not encountered before.
Jim chuckled, sending a breathy gush across his chest, making his nipples erect. His body remained over-sensitized from the sex earlier.
“Just an expression—substitute ‘bacon’ for ‘me’ and you’ll have it.”
They lay in comfortable silence for a while. He wanted another sexual encounter with Jim and, aware of the human’s erection pressing into his hip, knew the need was reciprocated. Making a decision, he shifted their positions and took possession of Jim’s mouth, his plundering tongue met with equal ardor.
Earlier, he had not allowed himself to fully experience his arousal, having kept a part of himself back. But now, he wished to unleash it all with this man.
With their bodies pressed close, Spock felt a reawakening in his own body a fire that had not burned for a number of years. The fire spread to the human and they shared a searing kiss as their bodies pressed more firmly together, legs and arms intertwining, their hard cocks fiery brands pressed tightly between them, hips pushing frantically together, bucking and arching and colliding in perfect rhythm.
They let it build and then pulled back from the edge before the inferno consumed them too soon. Spock fought to catch his breath, his body taut as a lyre string.
“My god, you’re something when you get going,” Jim said, breathing hard. “If that’s a promise of what’s to come…”
Spock didn’t give him the chance to say more as he took his mouth in a demanding kiss, sucking on the human’s tongue, feeling Jim arch against him reaching for him. He ran featherlight fingers over Jim’s muscled chest, the skin cool and smooth as sandstone, then moved his hand to a nipple and thumbed it in a lazy motion, hearing Jim’s sharp intake of breath and feeling with satisfaction as the nub hardened beneath his touch.
His hand trailed lower, over the taut abdomen—marveling at the physical fitness of this desirable body. He took hold of Jim in his fist and slid his tongue in and out of the human’s mouth while he milked the throbbing shaft. Jim gasped into his mouth as he reached out and took hold of Spock’s aching flesh.
“Come inside me,” Jim whispered fervently.
Spock wanted nothing more. He forced some semblance of control over himself for fear of hurting the human. He would need careful preparation.
As if reading his mind, Jim pulled back. “There’s something in the bathroom we can use.”
A moment later he was back, holding a small bottle. Spock watched as he knelt on the bed and poured some oil into the palm of his hand, then spread it liberally over his engorged penis, the light touch causing him to shudder.
He handed Spock the bottle and lay on his back, and with a quick and shallow breath lifted his legs to his chest and said quietly, “I've never done this before,” almost apologizing with his tone.
“Are you certain you wish proceed?” Spock asked, gently caressing Jim’s thighs, uncertain whether to continue.
“I’ve had sex with a few men before, but always been the one on top. I’ve never trusted anyone before to do this. I want you to fuck me. Everything you've got to give me.”
The admission brought forward an emotion Spock was unable to recognize. “You honor me, Jim. I ask that you attempt to hold back your release so that you may do me the same honor.”
Spock reverently prepared the human, his actions drawing sighs and gasps, before settling above him. He entered the tight channel slowly and carefully, fearful he might cause harm. But the look on Jim’s face showed only wonder and desire. The channel was tight and hot, as Spock began slowly to withdraw and then push back again. Within minutes, he was able to move more freely.
“God . . . this . . . feels . . . so . . . good . . .” Jim managed between thrusts as his hands massaged the muscled planes of Spock’s back in a motion that matched their rhythmic movements. Between labored breaths and frenzied writhing, he continued, “Yes . . . so . . . so . . . good . . .”
They were breathing in gasps—as if on Vulcan with its thinner air. Jim managed to move his body to rise up and push as Spock drove his shaft to its hilt with each thrust at an increasing pace.
Spock felt a pressure building up in his groin until he ached for release. With one final thrust, he felt the first rush and jerked, then with a soul-deep shudder, exploded inside the human, his blood roaring through his veins like wildfire, burning and stinging as he surrendered to the longest, hottest release of his life. It took a while for Spock to find himself again.
When he finally slid out, he was gratified to find Jim still had an erection and would be in a position to reciprocate. He wished for nothing more.
He watched as Jim coated his shaft liberally in oil and then adopting the same position, felt fingers slide gently in and out of him, relaxing the muscles. After his release, little preparation was necessary. They exchanged a long, hungry kiss and then Jim moved into position.
The head pushed in first, widening him, and then slowly, centimeter by centimeter, he slid in. He wanted more of Jim. All of him, and impatiently lifted his hips to impale himself further until the human was fully sheathed. The sensation of his fullness rubbing inside was like a hot wire against his nerve ends and he welcomed it.
Above him, Jim began to thrust yet even in the midst of his need, Spock felt the tenderness in the human’s restraint, adoring him with his touch. Jim began to speed up, the room filled with the sound of sturdy thighs hitting his small buttocks with a slapping noise and grunts and sighs from them both.
Spock had become hard again and with a hand still oily from Jim’s preparation and, synchronizing with the rhythm, stroked himself as the human began pistoning in earnest. With the twin sensations, Spock began to heave and writhe, hard naked flesh to naked flesh, two powerful bodies dancing in union.
He watched as above him, sweat poured off Jim’s face and ran in rivulets down his golden chest. Suddenly Jim tensed, his face contorted in the pain/pleasure of ecstatic release and Spock could feel Jim’s seed spill into him, feel the warm gush, pulse after pulse, feel each spasm as acutely as if they were melded. In chain reaction, he sucked in great lungfuls of air, spasms of delight rocketing through his own body as he exploded into climax again, arching off the bed and crying out Jim’s name.
For a time, they shuddered in breaths of gasping completion before settling together. Neither spoke nor moved for some time, sharing the moment that they would forever remember.
It was Jim who finally broke the silence. “This’ll probably sound illogical to you, but making love with you seems so…I don’t know, it’s hard to put into words.” The human faltered and then tried again. “What I mean is, I know nothing about you, we haven’t talked about anything personal—I don’t even know what you do for a living, yet this all seems so…right. And not just physically but mentally, too. I feel as if we just sort of click together.”
“As you say, it is illogical given the length of time of our acquaintanceship, however I confess to having similar sentiments. There is much about this universe that is both illogical and incomprehensible to me.”
Jim sighed. “A part of me wishes something could come of this. I know it sounds selfish, but at this point in time my career is very important to me and I can't let it go now.”
“You are not selfish, merely realistic, as I am. You indicated before the commencement of physical relations that you would not be available for more than this night, as I am not.”
Spock watched as Jim leant forward and placed a small kiss on his lips.
“I know,” the human said with a sigh.
“Jim, it not logical to wish for something that cannot be.” Spock hitched himself up and tenderly kissed Jim’s soft lips, neither of them aware that, illogical or not, the other silently wished otherwise.
For the rest of that night, they slept deeply and peacefully.
When Kirk woke the next morning, his eyes snapped open when he realized the Vulcan was no longer at his side. A glance around the room and relief flooded over him as he saw his case beside one of the couches. After a few minutes, the Vulcan emerged from the bathroom fully clothed causing Kirk to feel a twinge of disappointment. Walking over to the bed, he sat down on the edge.
“It is time for me to go, Jim. I believe it is best that I go quickly.” Kirk nodded mutely as he sat up in the crumpled bed. He hated goodbyes too, but this time he felt much more of a pang than usual. It was only ever going to be a one-night stand, but unusually for him, this one had really got to him, had felt considerably more than just a quick fuck.
The Vulcan bent down and Kirk was taken in a light kiss, their tongues gently intertwining for a final time.
“Live long and prosper, my friend,” whispered Kirk.
A small smile softened the austere face as the Vulcan held his hand the traditional salute. “Peace and long life, Jim.”
Kirk watched as the Vulcan collected his case and left without a backward glance. For a long time, he remained absolutely still, staring at the door long after it had closed, feeling a deep ache in his chest.
The big day had dawned. Excitement warred with nerves as Kirk donned his dress uniform for the first time since he had undertaken the publicity work for Starfleet two months previously. For the first time in a week, thoughts of the dark Vulcan stranger were pushed to the back of his mind as he prepared himself for the big day ahead.
Checking in the mirror that all was well, he rubbed his bare chin and smiled ruefully—it had been a huge relief to get rid of the beard. He was relieved, too, that the cream he had been given worked to remove the dye on his eyebrows and hair, leaving no trace of the previously dark color. A visit to the barber put his hair was back to standard Starfleet style and finally he looked himself again. The bruise from the punch the Rigellian had landed on his chin had gone, too.
Starfleet had put him up for one more night in a luxury suite at the Four Seasons. Too bad I'm not staying longer, he thought with a smile, as he gathered together his overnight bag. The rest of his personal effects had already been beamed aboard and now there was nothing for him to do but to follow. A glance at the bedside chrono as he left told him he had ten minutes to spare.
On board the ship a general air of excitement and anticipation pervaded. Now they were in geosynchronous orbit, all personnel were considered to be on active duty. Spock, whose shift had commenced several hours earlier, was the last of the senior officers to leave the bridge and return to his cabin to change into dress uniform.
As the door closed behind him, he was able to let out a deep sigh in the privacy of his quarters. All morning he had felt a sense of disquiet and was uncertain to what he should attribute it. He had considered it was connected with the fact that today he would be formally bidding farewell to his old commander, but he did not believe so. Perhaps it was to do with the unknowns of working with a new captain. Whatever the cause, he understood that it came from within himself and later, when he had time and space, he felt certain he would be able to discover its cause with the aid of meditation.
This was a big day for Starfleet with both the launching of the new five year missions, and history being made in James Kirk becoming the youngest commander of a starship. At the headquarters, Admiral Nogura would be in attendance personally to see Kirk off.
When they materialized on the Enterprise, Kirk could hear the sounds of whistles piping them aboard. There was quite a welcoming committee in the small transporter room with all the heads of department present, including Gary Mitchell—it was good to see a familiar face. Kirk smiled confidently as he stood on the platform and his gaze swept around the room, too many faces to take in at once.
Stepping down from the platform behind Nogura, he shook hands with Captain Pike, who then introduced each of the crew. After Mitchell, who he gave a big grin to, came Spock and suddenly it was as if there was no-one in the room but the two of them.
As their eyes met, they recognized.
For Spock, the long, dark hair and beard had made Jim look sufficiently different that he had failed to recognize the fair-headed, clean-shaven man on the transporter pad. However, once up close, the hazel eyes were irrevocably and unmistakably his. With an increased heart and respiration rate and Nogura, Pike and Kirk standing in front of him, he brought every ounce of Vulcan control to bear, so that beyond the initial flicker of recognition that he knew Jim had seen, his face betrayed absolutely nothing.
In front of him, Kirk was in a daze, a spike of adrenaline sending rational thought temporarily away. The Vulcan’s hair was much shorter, he thought, back into the style he had seen in the tri-d images of him, but there was no mistaking who this was. As he gazed into the dark eyes, he was lost as his heart pounded.
Command control asserting itself, he recovered in a moment, long before anyone but Spock could have noticed.
“Lieutenant Commander Spock,” he said with a nod. “I’m looking forward to working closely with you and learning more about Vulcan and your culture.” He’d rehearsed those words and now they seemed to take on another meaning.
“Captain Kirk,” Spock acknowledged. With the slightest softening of his features that only someone looking would notice—and Kirk did—the Vulcan added, “I come to serve. Welcome aboard, sir.”
Kirk swallowed, his face a little flushed, and found a gentle hand at his elbow as Pike drew him down the line. Although it had all happened so fast, of one thing he was certain: for a moment Spock, in his own way, had looked as surprised as he, before the Vulcan mask had been firmly clamped back into place.
Duty and command recalled Kirk back to the present as he was presented to Lieutenant Commander Scott and the remainder of his senior team.
Spock watched as Kirk moved away and knew that the calm exterior was only a facade. The instant that his eyes had met Kirk's when he had stood before him, he knew that the Human had been completely unaware of his identity until that moment.
The feeling of disquiet he had experienced earlier had now ceased and wondered incredulously whether Kirk could have been the cause. He had sensed almost from the moment he had met Kirk that their minds were well matched but surely no link, no matter how tenuous, could have been established during their one night together. Spock promptly pushed that memory to the back of his mind. He was on duty and required to have a clear head. For the past week, in the privacy of his quarters late at night, recalling their love-making had given him anything but that.
“... and we've arranged a reception to celebrate my departure and your arrival,” said Pike affably. “You’ll get a chance to meet some of the rest of your crew,” he added as he led Kirk and the others towards the door.
Spock, who was already standing beside it, looked at Kirk. “After you, Captain.”
With a gleam in his eyes, Kirk smiled apparently now fully recovered from his shock and in a voice so quiet that only the Vulcan could hear, he said, “My friends call me Jim.”