“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.” –Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 - 1900)
It’d been going on for nearly three hours now, and McCoy was getting sick of it.
When he’d first gotten the desperate call from engineering that “the captain was in danger” and that there was “something horribly wrong with Commander Spock,” he’d been on full alert, ready to employ all of his medical knowledge to disperse the situation. But as the seemingly-panicked ensign continued to describe what was going on, McCoy’s alertness slowly dissipated, only to be replaced with a sense of annoyed disbelief. He’d quickly matched up the ensign’s description of Spock’s behavior with the medical findings he’d made one week prior, and allowed his forehead to swiftly meet his desk in frustration.
Of course Jim would take something as serious as Pon Farr and turn it into a game.
McCoy had quickly reassured the ensign that everything was fine and to just stay out of the way and continue his work, then cut the connection. He’d barely gotten out the damn whiskey bottle before he received another call, this time from a less-panicked, more confused yeoman from outside one of the rec rooms. McCoy had finally sighed, sat down and answered the call, preparing himself for what promised to be one interesting and damn-near awkward day.
In the hours that had gone by, Jim had apparently led Spock throughout most of the ship: from engineering, to the recreational deck, to the science labs, and through the mess deck. The calls McCoy had received ranged in disposition from horrified panic to amused confusion, to the awkward inquiry and even nonchalant recollection. By the time he received the inevitable call from the bridge, McCoy was bored out of his mind from all of the repetitive message-recording and reassurances and the sheer insanity of it all.
“Bridge to sickbay! Doctor McCoy, are you zere?!”
McCoy set down his fourth glass of whiskey, pausing to examine his nails briefly before pressing the button to accept the call. (Dammit, he was a doctor, not a receptionist.) “McCoy here. What’s the trouble?”
“Doctor, I sink zere is something ze matter with ze Keptin. His shirt is ripped and he appears to be slightly fatigued.”
“Does he, now?” McCoy replied, boredom evident in his voice. “Does he look frightened or distressed?”
“Vell… no, sir. He looks rather… happy, sir.”
“I’m sure he does, Chekov,” McCoy muttered, rolling his eyes. “Tell me, is Spock with him?”
“No, Doctor, Mister Spock is not– oh! Here he is now, off ze lift. Commander, vhat is–”
McCoy slowly face-palmed as the sounds of mayhem broke out over the comm.
“Oh dear God–!”
“Shit! Sulu, get out of the way!”
“Commander, control yourself! You must not harm ze Keptin!”
“Kirk, you’re such a jerk! You’re just making it worse, you know!”
“Relax, I’ve got everything under control– fuck. You guys, move!”
“I don’t wanna die!”
“Get him to the turbolift. …No, the TURBOLIFT, DAMMIT!”
The muffled sounds of panic eventually died down, leaving whimpers and panting breaths drifting over the comm.
McCoy raised an eyebrow. “Chekov?”
There was a beat of silence before the ensign answered. “Um… ze Keptin left, sir.”
“Ze Commander is, eh… clawing at ze turbolift door, sir.”
McCoy coughed. “I see.”
“…Should ve do anything, Doctor?”
“Nah, just leave him. He’ll catch Jim eventually. Just stay clear of his path and you’ll be fine.”
He could almost picture the navigator’s confused, blinking face. “Sir, vhat is zis all–”
“Medical business. Nothing to worry about, kid. As you were.” With that, McCoy cut the link.
McCoy leaned back in his chair, crossed his hands over his eyes and sighed. Damn, did he need a vacation.
McCoy contemplated putting out a ship-wide alert – God forbid he have to describe in detail what was going on – but twenty minutes after the bridge call, nothing was happening. Maybe Spock had finally gotten a hold of the captain? Oh well. As long as nobody got hurt and Jim stayed the hell away from sickbay, McCoy was perfectly fine with–
His office door chimed briefly before it suddenly opened and Jim came running inside.
Oh hell no.
“Jim, you are not leading that sex-crazed Vulcan in here!” McCoy half-shouted, standing up in a split second and rounding on his friend. “Just what the hell are you thinking, anyway? Are you leading him on some kind of wild goose chase or aren’t you?”
Jim stopped at the edge of McCoy’s desk, resting his hands on it and leaning slightly to catch his breath. His gold tunic was ripped wide across the left shoulder, revealing bare skin down to the top of his ribs. Other than that, there were no visible injuries on him, although there was a wide grin across his face and a gleam in his eyes.
“Relax, Bones, I’ve got this all under control,” Jim said. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” McCoy questioned, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Over half the ship knows of your shenanigans, Jim. I’ve had calls from people who are worried that Spock’s out to kill you or something. Do you understand what could happen if you keep dragging this out? Someone could get hurt!”
“It’s only me he’s after,” Jim reasoned, waving off McCoy’s concerns. “And no one’s gonna try and interfere with Spock, of all people; not like this, anyway. It’ll be fine.” He reached up to wipe a sheen of sweat off his forehead. “Kind of a rush, though, isn’t it? It’s exciting – like an extreme game of hide-and-seek.”
The doctor shook his head. “You goddamned idiot… The longer you deprive Spock of… well, you, the more intense this madness of his is gonna get. What are you even thinking, Jim?”
He watched as Jim’s grin sobered slightly and he leaned in a more onto the desk.
“It’s… kinda nice having him go after me for once,” Jim admitted, his voice unusually soft. “Even when it’s just us, it’s usually me who initiates anything, you know? He’s more than capable of showing affection, but… him being who he is, it’s still difficult for him to take the first step.” He turned and sat more solidly against the desk. “I know how serious this Pon Farr thing is and what it means for Spock. And I’m not gonna run forever, but for now… the fact that he’s chasing me like this… it’s kind of endearing, you know?”
“Endearing,” McCoy found himself elaborating, “in the sense that when it all comes down to it, you’re the only person he’ll ever come to for this. The only person he’ll ever really be… emotional with.”
Jim turned to look at him, a somewhat – dare he think it – shy smile growing on his face. “Yeah, exactly like that.”
McCoy nodded, frowning slightly. Of course he hadn’t forgotten Jim’s deal with personal relationships. His bonding with Spock had probably been the first real time he’d felt… well, truly dedicated to. McCoy could only imagine what it was like to literally feel another person’s presence without actually being with them, to know that they were constantly there and with them. And with the knowledge he had of Jim’s childhood, finally having that sense of stability was probably a constant happiness for the kid.
No, he couldn’t fault Jim for wanting to be on the receiving end for once. Not this time, anyway.
He sighed, a sound of resignation. “Well, as long as I don’t get crewmembers running to me with shredded limbs and empty brains, we’re alright.”
McCoy shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy, Jim. So… you need anything? Water or something?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Jim insisted. “Sickbay’s my last stop before I head back to our quarters. I only wanted to give him a bit of a rush, after all. You’re right – I don’t want to drag this out longer than necessary; just enough for a bit of fun.” His grin was back.
The doctor rolled his eyes. “So long as loverboy doesn’t catch you in here, it’s all fine with–”
Christine’s startled yelp from the nearby exam room was their only warning before McCoy’s door burst open and Spock came charging in.
Jim had barely begun to react before Spock rushed forward, pushing the man over onto the desk, crawling on top and effectively pinning him. The human’s lips were suddenly engulfed by a hot, desperate mouth, his ensuing gasp of surprise swallowed within wet heat. A warm, slightly scratchy tongue delved into Jim’s mouth, meshing with his and tickling the roof of his mouth. The overwhelming wave of Spock’s need crashed over him and he fought feebly to regain momentary control.
The need to breathe finally took priority, and Jim threw his head back, sucking in much-needed breaths of air. The look in Spock’s eyes was primal and dark, his pupils fully dialated and focused directly on Jim.
“T’hy’la,” came the heated whisper. “Mine. My t’hy’la.” The half-Vulcan’s shoulders trembled slightly as he breathed. Jim reached up to cup Spock’s face in his hands.
“That’s right, baby,” he whispered in reply, running his fingers along the edge of a pointed ear. “You caught me.”
Spock suddenly reached down and grabbed the torn edge of the gold tunic, jerking his arm back swiftly so that the rest of the material ripped away, revealing the entirety of Jim’s torso.
“You ran, t’hy’la,” Spock murmured, leaning in to nip at the captain’s neck. “Why did you flee from me? Do I displease you?” He lowered his head, licking his way across Jim’s newly-exposed chest.
“No, baby, no, nothing like that,” Jim forced out, gasping as the hot tongue slid smoothly back up to his throat, teasing his Adam’s apple. “It’s just– oh God, what you do to me.” Spock bit down gently on his pulse, smoothing a hand down his stomach to grab at his hip. Jim writhed underneath the half-Vulcan, fighting to continue speaking under the sensations.
“Wasn’t it– fuck. W-wasn’t it good, Spock?” Jim finally continued as Spock lowered his body to press more fully against him. “Wasn’t it exciting, baby? I knew you’d catch me. I knew you’d hunt me down and find me and make me yours.”
The near-animalistic cry Spock gave set Jim’s blood afire, and suddenly the half-Vulcan was rutting against him with burning desperation. Jim’s legs found themselves wound around the other’s waist, bringing them closer together and intensifying their contact. His fingers buried themselves in the course, black hair as Spock’s driving need to mate overtook him further. Spock’s hot breath echoed in his ear as he clung to the lithe body above him, riding out the blissfully simple sensation of their clothed erections rubbing together. The angle shifted slightly and suddenly Spock was pressing oh God yes right there and it was amazing and wonderful and everything he’d been waiting for all day. And never mind that they didn’t even have their clothes off yet because Jim was getting so close and shit, he was going over–
Jim managed to pull himself out of his sexual daze and looked over at the face of a rather unimpressed Chief Medical Officer.
“Jim,” McCoy said quite levelly, “as lovely as it is watching you and your Vulcan go at it like rabbits on my desk, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to get a room. …Preferably one far away from me.”
“Uh… sorry, Bones,” Jim said slowly, struggling to keep his focus. He knew he should have felt a little more embarrassed, but… well, there were currently more important things on his mind. Plus it was really hard to concentrate when Spock was still thrusting against him. “Do you think we could maybe… I dunno, just get this one out and then we can–”
“Get off, Jim.”
“Well, that’s… kinda what I’m trying to–”
“Dammit, Jim, you are not creaming your pants on my desk! This is a medical office, not a–”
McCoy abruptly stopped mid-rant, his gaze suddenly focusing on a point above Jim’s head. Jim looked up, only to realize that Spock had stopped moving and was now staring intently at McCoy with the leveled stare of a hungry housecat waiting for an injured mouse to move. The low growling emitting from his throat didn’t sound very good either.
Had McCoy been a courageous man, he would have sighed in frustration – when was he ever going to catch a goddamned break?
“Shit. Okay. Bones, relax, I got this. Don’t move.” McCoy would have rolled his eyes at Jim’s rather ineffective means of reassurance, but he wasn’t quite sure what constituted as a “threatening move” at this point in time, so he just stayed put.
“Spock,” Jim said carefully, maneuvering himself to sit up slightly. “Spock, look at me.” He moved a hand to the side of Spock’s face, attempting to bring the half-Vulcan’s attention back to himself. Jim leaned up and began pressing kisses to the other’s mouth. Spock eagerly reciprocated, although he continued to keep a wary gaze on McCoy out of the corner of his vision.
As Jim kept Spock adequately distracted, McCoy took the opportunity to scoot his chair a couple feet back. There was no easily-maneuverable way around his desk, not without getting within touching distance of either Jim or Spock – neither option providing the promise of a safe exit – and while it was awkward as hell watching your two superior officers making out on your own personal property, McCoy liked the idea of staying alive. He was quite fond of it, in fact. So, once again, he stayed put.
“You’ve been waiting for it all day, haven’t you, baby?” Jim was murmuring against Spock’s skin, and damn was it hard to try and be this seductive and intimate now that he remembered that Bones was in the room. “I’m so proud of you. You’re so good. But let’s do it alone, huh? With no one else around to bother us, baby. Wouldn’t you like that? Just you and me, Spock – no one else.”
Spock seemed to respond positively to the idea Jim was proposing, and McCoy felt relief begin to well up inside him knowing that the chaos was almost over and the two in front of him would be leaving the room at any minute…
…until Spock looked over at McCoy again with seemingly new intent, bringing his legs up under him as if in preparation to pounce.
Sweet mother of God, he was having a bad day.
Jim quickly caught on to what Spock was thinking and sat up fully, wrapping his arms around the half-Vulcan and holding him there.
“No, baby, no-no-no,” Jim hurriedly, concerned but also slightly amused at his lover’s currently restricted way of thinking. “That’s just Bones. Bones is good – we like Bones, okay?” At this McCoy finally gave in and rolled his eyes; it was apparent that Spock was far too gone to recognize the doctor. At the miniscule intensification of Spock’s already apparent jealousy, Jim peppered his cheek with a few kisses and assuringly added, “But of course I like you better, baby.”
McCoy wasn’t quite sure how much more of this he could take. And to think all he had wanted to do that morning was inventory… He briefly wondered what Christine was doing in the room next door – or if she was even still around – when he tuned back in to Jim clarifying his earlier words to Spock.
“I mean let’s go somewhere else, Spock,” he was saying intently. “Let’s go to our bed. Don’t you wanna go there, baby? It’ll be just you and me, with no one to bother us…” As Jim spoke he trailed his hands through Spock’s hair, finally letting them rest on the pair of pointed ears and squeezing them in gentle caresses… And suddenly Spock was like putty in the captain’s hands, practically collapsing against Jim and moaning heatedly into his shoulder. He panted heavily as Jim continued skillfully petting his ears, all the while looking as smug as someone who had just single-handedly coaxed over and tamed a feral cat.
Suddenly Spock bent forward, hoisting Jim up and over his shoulder, earning a slightly surprised gasp from his mate. Placing one hand on the small of Jim’s back and the other on his black-clad thigh, Spock backed down off the desk and turned towards the door, but not before shooting the doctor a rather ineffective, lust-tinted glare.
“Oh, don’t give me that, you hobgoblin,” McCoy finally spoke up. “I was here first.” But Spock had apparently figured out his priorities, because he was already out McCoy’s door and heading through sickbay to the turbolift. From over Spock’s shoulder, Jim waved and called out, “See ya, Bones!” before they disappeared around the corner.
McCoy eyed his now-totaled office door and sighed. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with those two for another few days, at any rate…
He stood and went to fetch another bottle of whiskey.
As soon as the door to their quarters slid shut, Jim was dropped onto the bed and stripped of what remained of his gold shirt. At the edge of the bed Spock began stripping himself, and Jim took the opportunity to call out the sequence of numbers and letters that would keep his quarters locked as long as they needed to be – only the Chief Medical Officer could override the lock (and he was pretty sure that Bones would do no such thing). Jim quickly started removing his boots and by the time he’d gotten to working on his pants, Spock had already shed all of his clothing. The half-Vulcan reached over and finished Jim’s work for him, making quick work of the remaining garments and tossing them aside. Before he could guess as to which direction they were going to go in, Spock grabbed Jim and flipped him over onto his stomach.
The movement was swift and surprised Jim somewhat, but as he felt strong hands grasp and lift his hips up, he smiled knowingly.
“That’s it, do what you need to do, baby,” he said into the bed sheets. No sooner had he done so, Spock had knelt down behind him and entered him in one fluid thrust.
Jim couldn’t help but wince, gripping the sheets tightly. It was clear that Spock was completely lost to the blood fever now – he was normally so careful when it came to preparation. But Jim understood, and all he could help thinking was thank God for self-lubrication; Spock had slid in rather effortlessly, although mostly due to his current drive and natural strength, and while the entry had indeed been smooth, the sheer speed of it left behind a slight burning sensation.
Spock pounded wildly into the tight channel, gripping his mate’s hip with near-bruising force. For a brief moment Jim wondered if perhaps he had prolonged Spock’s condition for too long – his lover was being more aggressive than he had anticipated – but quickly dispelled the thought. There would be another time to think about that. All he needed to do now was be there for Spock. Jim spread his legs a little wider and arched his back, tilting his ass up a little higher in order to give Spock better access to him. The slight change in position caused one of Spock’s thrusts to brush his prostate, and suddenly his blue eyes were alight with stars.
His ensuing moan seemed to further spur the half-Vulcan. Spock leaned forward, pressing his searing chest to Jim’s back, and fucked harder. Jim’s eyes were shut in the mounting bliss; Spock’s thrusts now occasionally hit his prostate, and those few moments combined with the now delicious and constant friction were causing Jim to become fully erect. Spock was panting heavily next to his ear, a deep, primal sound that went straight to Jim’s cock.
“God, Spock,” the human managed to utter. “You’re so good, baby…” At Jim’s words, Spock leaned in and bit down on the side of his neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but with enough force that Jim knew there would be a bruising mark there the next day.
The seconds were moving like hours, and Jim knew he couldn’t take it much longer. If he himself was painfully hard, he could only imagine what Spock was going through. Bracing himself on his elbows, Jim tightened himself around the half-Vulcan’s cock, squeezing in slow, taut rhythms. Something akin to a roar erupted from Spock’s throat, and Jim felt the near-burning surge of his lover’s essence coat his inner walls in long, hot spurts.
Knees weak, Jim rested his head against the bed, Spock panting in spent ecstasy above him. He groaned as his lover pulled out of him, sending narrow trickles of semen running past his cheeks and down his thighs. His own erection hung untouched between his legs, but he found he didn’t really care much. Jim knew that over the duration of Spock’s condition, he would eventually find release himself. Although a little painful at first, Jim found the constant friction rather stimulating, and was more than happy to take the comparatively short end of the stick if it meant giving Spock pleasure. Spock’s satisfaction was Jim’s satisfaction, and he was happily resigning himself to that fact.
Then he felt something touch his cock.
Jim’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. This was not something he had expected, at least not so soon. He figured his own needs would be met eventually, but he never guessed it would happen so early in their mating. Was Spock’s fever already starting to ebb?
All of his focused thoughts drifted away, however, as a hot hand continued to stroke his cock. His lover’s breathing had quieted considerably, coming in soft pants behind his ear, allowing Jim to focus solely on Spock’s fingertips as they trailed up to toy with the head of his penis, teasing the dripping slit at the top. Jim hummed in appreciation, hanging his head as Spock started licking the back of his neck. The half-Vulcan nipped his way down Jim’s spine and stopped at the ending curve. When the warm hand removed itself from his cock, Jim groaned at the loss, only to find himself tensing in anticipation when he felt Spock grip the cheeks of his ass.
Spock licked his way up Jim’s thighs, effectively cleaning off the thin trails of semen before thumbing his cheeks apart and licking a long, thick stripe up the human’s perineum. Jim positively shuddered, feeling his arms quake at the feel of Spock’s cat-like tongue upon him. Spock continued to lick his mate, lapping and nipping contentedly around his stretched opening. Jim leaned down and buried his face into the bed sheets, fisting them blindly, unable to predict how much more of this he could take.
The half-Vulcan’s tongue suddenly pushed its way inside him and Jim just fucking lost it. It was Spock’s unique tongue that did it, he was sure – the tiny, rigid spines along its surface gently raked against his inner walls as it fucked him. It was an odd feeling, being lightly tickled from the inside as he was licked out, but for Jim, it was what did the job every time. He rocked back against the invasion, craving more of the hot, wet length inside him, but the steady Vulcan grip on him ceased his movements; Spock was taking his time, tongue-fucking his mate with a sense of undying leisure that was driving Jim crazy.
Jim’s cock was painfully erect at this point; precum was weeping from the tip and never mind that it wasn’t being directly stimulated, Jim was so fucking close it was hurting. That wonderful tongue delved deeper into him, flicking and squirming against his inner walls like a goddamn serpent. Waves of pleasure pulsed through him with each thrust of Spock’s tongue, bringing him closer and closer to the brink of orgasm. He shut his eyes tight, the influence of the blood fever still seeping into his mind, telling him to let go, let go and holy shit, there it was, he was going over the edge–
Jim bit his lip to keep himself from crying out in frustration when Spock’s tongue suddenly pulled out completely. He settled on a stifled groan into the mattress, panting in desperation. When he tried reaching down to finish the job himself, Spock only grabbed his hand and forced it away.
Fucking hell, was Spock trying to torture him?
“Spock, baby, please, you gotta let me come,” Jim managed to force out. “You’re killing me here.” Spock didn’t answer, instead sliding his hands up Jim’s form to grip the sides of his waist, flipping the human onto his back.
Jim looked up as the half-Vulcan loomed over him, and gasped. Spock looked just… fuck, he looked gorgeous. The fire of the blood fever was still present in those deep brown eyes, and that combined with the sight of the slightly mussed black hair and the gentle flush of green on the normally pale cheeks stole Jim’s breath away for long, blissful seconds. He’d never seen his lover like this before, and it was – there was no other word for it – amazingly hot.
Before he could say a word, Spock bent over him and leaned in to claim an open-mouthed kiss.
As their tongues clashed, Jim felt strong hands grip his wrists and bring his arms up above his head. Spock was already hard again and gently rocking against him, and just the feel of their erections brushing against each other brought Jim to a whole new level of arousal. And even with all that had happened and was currently happening, it was a wonder to Jim that he wasn’t coming.
Spock pulled his mouth away and started nipping at his jaw; his hands moved up from Jim’s wrists and grasped the human’s hands, meshing their fingers together. Skilled fingertips danced over the tops of his own and Jim threw his head back; he’d temporarily forgotten the level of stimulation Vulcan hands could bring about. With each of Jim’s hands Spock dipped his fingers into the space between the knuckles, bringing a thumb up to massage the seat of the palm.
“Spock,” Jim whispered heatedly, turning to nuzzle into his lover’s cheek. Spock turned and gently bit the round curve of his ear, and Jim could finally hear and feel the faint purring vibrating through Spock’s throat and nose.
“Stay,” Spock murmured intensely against Jim’s skin. He let go of Jim’s hands and slid down his body, nipping and sucking at the tanned flesh as he went. Jim kept his arms above his head as instructed, although it was difficult; everything going on in his head was screaming for him to touch Spock. The half-Vulcan’s fingers skimmed over his flushed erection, wiping off the thick beads of precum collecting at the tip and dripping down the red shaft. Jim moaned in appreciation, watching through half-lidded eyes as Spock coated his fingers in the sticky substance. Those same fingers dipped between his legs and pushed into him, scissoring and stretching him thoroughly in preparation. All the while, Spock’s eyes were locked with his.
“Ah!” Jim gasped as the long fingers slid out of him. “Spock, please. I… I-I need…” He stumbled over his words in clumsy rapture as Spock rose into a kneeling position, lifting Jim’s hips with him. When they were at the perfect height, his thighs were spread further and Jim was carefully pushed into.
Jim’s breath left him through a sigh, content at the returned feeling of fullness. He liked it rough, but he absolutely loved it when Spock took care with him. He watched as Spock adopted a rather thoughtful expression before pulling out, changing the angle slightly and pushing back in.
Jim’s eyes widened significantly as Spock’s thrust brushed against his prostate. His ensuing moan of pleasure seemed to be what Spock was waiting for: the half-Vulcan tightened his grip on his hips, leaned forward and began expertly pistoning in and out of Jim like a well-oiled machine. The angle caused each of Spock’s thrusts to jackhammer into his prostate again and again and again, and Jim was now overwhelmed with pleasure. His gasping breaths were coming in sobs of ecstasy and the fire in his groin was reaching a boiling point.
Spock’s hand was suddenly beside his face, fingertips poised at the melding points, and before he knew it he was bathing in sweet fire and uncontrollable euphoria and love and he was just fucking gone. With a desperate cry Jim finally came, spilling his essence onto Spock’s belly in long streams. Spock came closely after him, filling him with a second wave of rapturous warmth.
He struggled to catch his shuddering breaths, almost not even registering it as Spock carefully pulled out of him and crawled up to lay beside him. Strong arms came around to pull him against a lightly heaving chest, a hand rising up to tangle itself in Jim’s golden hair. For long minutes the two simply lay together, regaining themselves and basking in the other’s presence.
After nearly ten minutes, Jim could finally speak. “That was all for me?” he murmured softly, rather tentatively. Spock cradled the back of Jim’s neck in his hands, leaning in to rest his forehead upon the human’s.
“Your pleasure is mine, T’hy’la,” Spock gently replied, his lips brushing against Jim’s as he spoke. Jim moved forward and kissed Spock repeatedly, letting his gratitude wash over his lover through their link. For moments longer they lay still, resting lightly and kissing lazily before Jim spoke again, this time a little louder and less hesitant.
“Was that it?”
Jim could feel traces of light amusement drifting over from Spock and realized that the presence of the fever still lingered over both of them.
“Patience, Jim,” Spock said, a strange glint in his eyes. “This is only the beginning.”
Oh fuck yeah.
On the morning of the fifth day, Jim awoke to the feel of Vulcan kisses being petted along his cheek and jaw. His blue eyes fluttered open and settled on the man next to him and he grinned sleepily.
“Hey,” he offered quietly. “How are you?” Spock’s fingers paused briefly in their movements, and although the expression on his face was rather stoic, his eyes were warm.
“The fever has passed.”
Jim shut his eyes. “That’s good.” As he shifted beside Spock a sharp, throbbing pain travelled through the muscles of his lower back and thighs, dulling slightly as the muscles continued to stretch. He was unable to bite back his ensuing groan, and Spock was quickly looming over him.
“Are you injured?” Although Spock spoke calmly, Jim could sense the thread of worry through their link.
“Just sore,” Jim admitted, dousing Spock’s concern with a wave of reassurance.
Spock settled back down beside Jim. “I did warn you of the risks beforehand,” he gently chided, although there was a hint of amusement in his gaze.
“Yeah, I know,” Jim said, his smile returning, “but I don’t regret a minute of it. Not when it was all for you.”
A small smile graced Spock’s lips before he returned to tracing the contours of Jim’s face with his fingers. The human shut his eyes in contentment, reveling in the soft surge of warmth and fondness Spock was projecting to him. He lay still to allow Spock to continue his ministrations, occasionally turning his head so he could press kisses to the skillful fingers.
“You enjoy this?” Spock said quietly in a sudden inquiry. “My being so forward with my affections?” Although they were questions in form, they left the half-Vulcan’s mouth as statements.
“Of course,” Jim replied, reaching up to twine his fingers through Spock’s.
“Enough to force me to pursue you through 85.2 percent of the Enterprise?”
Jim had the decency to look embarrassed. He glanced down and away from the half-Vulcan’s eyes, instead choosing to focus on their joined hands.
“Eh, sorry about that,” he mumbled, flushing slightly. “Are you mad?”
“On the contrary,” came the unexpected reply, rather than Spock’s usual quip about how “Vulcans do not get mad.” Jim looked up in surprise as his lover continued. “The majority of the crew are already aware of our existing relationship, and the pursuit itself was quite… stimulating.”
“Really?” A toothy grin was spreading slowly on Jim’s face.
“I would not lie to you.”
Jim leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Spock’s mouth, his heart lifting lightly as Spock gently reciprocated. “I’m glad to hear it.” For long minutes the two simply lay together, exchanging simple kisses and light petting. After a particularly lengthy kiss, Spock broke away and spoke again.
“I will endeavor to be more… assertive with my affections in the future, Jim,” he whispered intently, brown eyes holding Jim’s in a steady gaze. The captain felt a softness building up in his chest at Spock’s rather emotional declaration. He reached out to cup the half-Vulcan’s face in his palm.
“It’s all right, Spock, I know you love me,” he responded, tracing the pale cheek with his thumb. His eyes shut halfway in thought before he continued. “Still… I suppose it’d be nice if we could both show that to each other. Even if it is just the two of us.”
A moment of silence passed, the pair locked in a comfortable stare and their fingers lazily intertwining.
“What time is it?” Jim finally asked.
“Approximately 0432.7 hours.”
“About four hours until Alpha shift, then.” Jim yawned quietly and settled down on his back. “We don’t have to get up right away, do we?” He smiled as he felt warm fingers comb through his hair.
“Of course not, Jim.” Spock shifted closer, curling up against his mate’s side and draping an arm across his chest. Jim reached up and cupped his hand behind Spock’s head, letting his fingers scratch the tender area behind the pointed ears. The half-Vulcan hummed in appreciation before he leaned down and buried his nose into Jim’s neck, purring like a contented kitten.
Another moment of comfortable silenced passed, but just as Jim was drifting off to sleep again, he remembered something.
“By the way,” he mumbled nonchalantly, “you owe Bones a new door. You busted his wide open the last time you went through it.”
A twinge of confusion drifted through their link, and Jim didn’t have to look in order to know that Spock’s expression was one of thoughtful perplexity. After a few short beats, Spock lifted his head to look at the human.
“All doors on this ship slide open, Jim.”
“Not fast enough, apparently.”
Spock raised an eyebrow.
When Jim finally limped his way into sickbay, McCoy inwardly groaned. That was just what he needed at the beginning of his shift: a sexually-sated captain with the grin of a dumbass.
“Morning, Bones,” Jim crooned, coming to a stop at the edge of a biobed. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m just dandy, Jim,” McCoy answered, refusing to look up from his PADD. “Ordinarily I’d ask what you’re so goddamn giddy about this early in the day, but something tells me I already know.” When he saw Jim open his mouth out of the corner of his eye, he quickly added, “And I don’t want any of the details, so just drop it, Jim.”
“Relax, Bones, I’m not that cruel,” Jim said, resting his elbow on the biobed and propping his chin up on his hand. “Actually, I came to say… thank you.”
McCoy finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“Thank you,” Jim repeated, averting his eyes slightly as if flustered. “Thanks for… supporting me and Spock the way you did. I know that our relationship isn’t a favorite topic for you, so…”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “Is he good to you?”
Jim blinked at the sudden question. “Well, yeah.”
“And do you love each other?”
“Of course we do.”
“Then there’s no reason it wouldn’t sit right with me,” McCoy said, his gaze steady with Jim’s. “Besides, what I think in the long run doesn’t mean shit. You love who you love and you shouldn’t let anyone tell you otherwise. And… hell, you know I’d speak up if I really didn’t think he was the right choice.”
At the doctor’s admission, Jim felt his heart soften. Hell, how soft was this day going to end up being?
“Thanks, Bones,” he said, reaching over to clap a hand on the other’s shoulder. “You’re a great friend.”
“Yeah, well…” McCoy muttered, looking away and blushing. “Just tell your pointy-eared boyfriend that door isn’t gonna fix itself.”
Jim laughed outright. “Don’t worry, he knows. Oh, and if he starts offering you favors – little stuff like upgrading equipment and access to the higher scientific databanks – just humor him and accept them. He won’t admit it, but Spock feels kinda bad about what happened.”
McCoy’s lips spread wide in a sly grin. “Don’t you worry, Jim,” he said, a twinkle in his eye, “I’ll put your Vulcan to good work.”
Jim laughed again and stood up, limping his way over to the sickbay entrance. As he reached the door, he turned around.
“So, same time, next seven years, Bones?”
McCoy fought the continuingly-persistent urge to roll his eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up, Jim, we’re only out here for five years.”
Jim shrugged. “Fair enough!” With that, he turned and left sickbay.
Later on, true to Jim’s word, Spock would come into sickbay with a list of offered improvements to the medical team’s equipment, and Jim would resume command of his ship from the main bridge, albeit awkwardly, and everything would be back to normal.
But for now, McCoy just shook his head and got back to work.