- Text Size +
RESOLUTION




From the chair behind his desk, Jim stretched his naked body. He ran his hands over his smooth chest, feeling the delicious ripples run through the harmony of his muscles. His body pulled back in, no longer tense and tight, but finally relaxed and at ease--for the first time in months, perhaps.



Every part of him felt good and smugly satisfied with the way this first physical discovery had gone. Like an engine that had finally hit upon its optimum speed, his body purred along with quietly restrained power, confident of its abilities, content to idle in that one particular point where it was at its peak.



He smelled of sex and of exotic Vulcan musk. So did the air around him. The fine curls of his pubic hair still bore the drying evidence of the love that they had made, at last, in that illogical, wonderful, messy Human fashion. For a man who claimed to favor his Vulcan half, Spock had been a pretty adaptable. And from the look of utterly stunned pleasure that had dissolved his face, to the trilling, senseless sounds he had made deep in his throat as he came, there was ample evidence that his Human side had been too long in hiding. A situation that could, and would, be easily remedied.



But they had also shared the ultimate Vulcan intimacy of bondmates--the deep meld--finally acknowledging to both worlds that which had been growing inexorably between them. Jim's head still rang from the unbridled energy of Spock's thoughts and--yes, feelings as they rejoiced in quiet discovery inside his brain, an experience he could neither begin to classify nor comprehend.



Spock had told him it would get easier, but he wasn't sure he wanted it to. He had climaxed with the first deep penetration of the meld into his uninitiated mind, and in the surreal sensations of the moments after orgasm he had hung on an unprecedented high. Never much of a spiritual man, he had, for that immeasurable stretch of time, been sure that it was only the constant strength of Spock's embrace that held his soul together with his corporeal flesh.



With a shiver from shoulder to groin, Kirk glanced backwards through the mesh to the bunk where his friend--his boyfriend? (oh my!) slept. Envy warred with pity at Spock's ability to simply will his body to rest. Jim himself was far too dizzy with the discoveries of the night, far too energized to sleep. Not tonight.



For in all his life he could not remember a feeling more perfect, not one, than the way he felt right now and he would not waste it in sleep. He had finally achieved everything he had ever desired all at once, and it was better--far, far, better--than he could have imagined. Ship command has always been a heavy trophy born in loneliness; he had felt that as much as any other man. But everything was different now, and he would never be alone again.


Although Jim wouldn't have traded one minute of this feeling for the void of sleep, Spock had felt the need. Establishing the bond had been difficult for him. The sudden rush of such raw, passionate emotions all flooding him at once had been as much burden as bliss, and the strain had been evident as soon as they had broken into separate men again. Spock had held him until the trembling ceased, but it was only after long minutes, when his own breathing had quieted and his heart rate slowed, that Jim had realized it was Spock who trembled and not he. Jim had pulled him close and pressed him tightly to his chest, willing his own strength toward him, but the residue of psychic contact through their skin persisted and increased, and the chaos continued to rage within Spock's brain.



Reluctantly Jim had released him. Until they had learned to control the bond, it seems he couldn't help this way.



"A fascinating experience. It appears we could use some--practice," Spock had managed with some strain.



Jim had chuckled, "I love you too." And Spock had taken his hand despite the mental undertow. Jim had pulled almost completely away, using just the pads of two fingers to caress Spock's hand until the Vulcan went to sleep.



Jim stretched again. He should try to sleep in the chair, he supposed. The bunk was too small--he would have the carpenter fix that in the morning--but for now if he lay down next to Spock, their minds would blend on the surface levels, barely detectable to him, but disturbing the Vulcan once again.



He crossed into the sleeping section to get a blanket and leaned over the bed. Spock's face was placid and serene in sleep, his body twisted half in and half out of the sheets.



As carefully as he could, Jim worked the coverlet off bit by bit, but the movements shook the Vulcan and he opened both eyes.



"Jim," he said, as he extended a warm arm around Jim's back. "Stay." He curled his arm and pulled his captain in. Captain Kirk, leader of men, went down willingly.



They tangled arms and legs hot and chilled together on the much-too-small little bunk. Spock's heart beat staccato against Jim's side and Jim's essence beat relentlessly against Spock's mind. It was an awkward, uncomfortable and unfeasible arrangement beyond any reason, yet Jim sagged his head against a lean shoulder and wished only to stay.



"I should sleep somewhere else," Jim said watching Spock's face as he struggled with the startling newness of his bondmate's katra romping through his head. "You'll never get any peace with me here."



"Stay," Spock repeated. "I will never have any peace with you gone." Spock pulled him in tighter against his body and Jim yielded to the happy and ridiculous logic of the situation and settled himself in securely somehow.



Spock lifted his hand and ran it dry and light over the unique meld points on Jim's skull. He opened the bond to the human just a little. Jim saw more than heard the words inside his head. He could never have said how, much less described it, to one who had never known.



"I love you too," Jim repeated back. His body went lax. It no longer mattered who slept, but in the morning they rose to practice again.
You must login (register) to review.