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Beta readers: Judith Gran and T'Maia. Hugs!











You're not supposed to want to sleep with your first officer. Especially when your first officer is your best friend, and a Vulcan, and to top it off, has no sexual interest in your gender--or anybody's, as far as can be discerned.



But I want to. I want him so badly I can't stand it.



Yeah, part of it is that he's the best first officer in the fleet, and has saved my neck more times than I can count, and has such loyalty and brotherly love for me that I think of him as practically my other half. But that could just be the basis for a very deep friendship, if only he weren't so damned sexy.



That lean figure, that superhuman strength. Strength not only physical but mental; somehow the perfect control he's got over all his emotional expression just makes him a hundred times sexier. And a hundred times more than that, when for a moment his control isn't perfect. Viruses, spores, reversion to pre-reform times. Pon farr. If he knew all the daydreams I've had about him in pon farr, I'd have to send a maintenance crew up to peel his eyebrows off the ceiling.



The dark shimmery hair, the incredible, intense dark eyes, that delicious-looking mouth. But those slanted eyebrows are what drive me utterly wild... that and...



His ears.



Great Bird of the Galaxy, his ears. I don't have the slightest idea why, but in three years of seeking out new life and new civilizations, meeting Deltans and dancing green Orions and triple-breasted cat women from who knows where, *nothing* can give me a raging hard-on faster than the thought of touching one of the graceful pointed ears of my own first officer. Some people think they're aesthetically pleasing, a lot of people think they're funny... I think they're the sexiest damn thing I have seen in my entire life. I'm sitting here on the bridge right now, watching him bending over his viewer, and all I can see are the back edges and the points of them, and I am incapable of sitting even remotely still, let alone paying attention to what's going on. If a Klingon bird of prey decided to attack right now, they could blow us up before I even noticed.



Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation's flagship, galactic hero, decorated like a Christmas tree... rendered absolutely incompetent by an ear fetish.



Oh, it's not always this bad. I've gotten through battle situations and other messes before. I've been able to stop staring at him long enough to give orders and even get interested in whatever duty is pressing at the moment. But when there's no combat or research or diplomatic tangle to distract me, I can go crazy with the need to put my mouth on those incredible pointed tips of his.



Sometimes I can ease the tension by making fun of them, pretending they make him look like a silly elf to me, instead of a blazing hot sex demon. But lately even that doesn't help. I am definitely reaching a crisis point here. It's damn lucky we're charting a boring area of space right now, not doing anything that requires thinking and concentration, because this is certainly one of my worse days.



***



Thank god, the shift is over. I can go to my quarters and take care of this... problem of mine. I make a dash for the door.



But as I'm getting into the turbolift, a sound from Spock causes me to turn around. Damn, I didn't even notice he was following me. He walks like a cat-- a sleek, silent, black-haired, pointy-eared, *very* attractive cat. And now he's in the lift with me. And the door is closing, and we're on our way to my quarters. At least I am. The way he's looking at me, out of the corner of his velvety black eye, with his head turned so his gorgeous, delicately upswept left ear is right in the center of my field of vision, I am in *no* condition to invite him into my room with me. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him.



"Captain, you seem distressed. Is there anything I can do for you?"



My erection becomes so hard I'm afraid it'll break the seam in my pants, and all sorts of obscene suggestions crowd into my mind, but somehow I manage to say, "I'm fine."



The lift has stopped, and opened, and there's only a short corridor between me and my cabin. I will be fine, if only I can get rid of Spock before I come right in front of him.



"Indeed?" His eyebrows rise, and with them, the beautiful pointed pinnae move slightly, as well. When did I start noticing that they did that? "To my ears, your assurance fails to sound convincing."



To his ears. Damn it. Instantly the blood cells evacuate every part of my body except my cock and my face. Both suddenly feel like they're going to explode, and my legs can hardly hold me up. "Well, I'll be fine," I assure him again. "I just need a little rest in my quarters." (Outside which we are standing by now, and I don't know how long I can wait to get in and alleviate this arousal, which is becoming painful.)



"All my observations have pointed toward the opposite conclusion."



Pointed... oh, no. Desperate, I palm the lock and ease myself inside. I feel my cock leaking and I know I'm going insane. Spock can't see me like this--he just *can't.*



But Spock has followed me in.



The door closes behind him. We're together in my quarters.



"Jim, I am... concerned," he says insistently. "Whatever your problem may be, if it would help you, I am always quite willing to, as a human would say, 'lend an ear'."



I turn away from him frantically, flooded with visions of ways he could help me by lending one of his sexy ears. Not one vaguely appropriate answer comes to mind.



"Captain," he continues, moving until he can look me in the eyes again, "you are displaying all the earmarks of a nervous breakdown, and I should like to have you in Sickbay for a thorough examination of your cerebral lobes before your condition reaches its pinnacle. On any vessel, the health of the commander is a major point of interest. "



Shit. I'm starting to see innuendoes in everything he's saying, and I don't know if I'm going to come or if every blood vessel in my entire pelvic region is going to burst, but one or the other's going to happen within the minute. "Well," I manage to gasp out, "there are... a few more... points of interest... that have been... occupying my attention lately."



"Indeed?" He seems to smile slightly. "Perhaps you would like to indicate one of these... points of interest. They seem to be almost on the tip of your tongue."



That's it.



I lose all semblance of control. Before either of us knows it, my lips are around the tip of his right ear, sucking it into my mouth, and he's gasping in surprise... or excitement? Either way, I can't stop. The skin trapped in my mouth is so hot, so soft and smooth over the sharp point of cartilage sliding beneath it. I can feel his pulse beating a parsec a minute as I suck harder at it, and when I moan, my lips vibrating against him and my tongue pushing down on the tip, he gives a violent shudder.



"Jim," he moans back, catching my arms in his powerful hands. "If you do not wish to bring me to orgasm here and now, I suggest you postpone touching me thus until we have undressed."



With incredible effort, I pull my mouth off his eartip and look him in the eyes, and he looks about as shocked as I feel.



"You like it when I do that?"



"I have imagined it many, many times."



I groan then, deep in my throat, as the realization crashes in on me. Later, we can talk about how much we've wanted each other, and for how long, and why we never said so. Now, I need to touch him, I need him to touch me. "So have I, Spock, so have I. Let's not waste more time."



A flurry of desperate motion follows. Somehow we get our clothes off without coming in them, and I'm leaning back on the bed, and he's on his knees with his face between my legs. My erection leaps as he kisses the inside of my thigh, and I'm afraid I'll come just from the thought of what he's about to do.



But he doesn't take me in his mouth right away, as I expected him to. He keeps kissing and licking my thigh, rubbing his hair over my groin, as if he's trying to get in some particular position. I'm confused.



And then, I'm incinerated in a blaze of mindless pleasure--because he's reached up one hand and lifted my cock off my belly, far enough to grab the head with his fingertips and pull the tiny opening at the end just a little bit wider open, and very slowly, just barely, press into it... with the sharp, hot, supersensitive point of his ear.



At the first brush of that delicate flesh against me I know I'm not going to last more than a few seconds. I can only spread my legs, lean back hard on my arms, bite my lip and hold on as he begins to bring himself in further contact with me.



God, he's burning hot and velvet-soft and slippery with sweat, and the cartilaginous spike beneath the skin is like the hardness of a cock fucking me inside mine. I feel the first sensations of orgasm shooting through my genitals, and I gasp incoherently and strain to get closer to him. Even with just the very tip of that ear point pushing at me I feel like he's piercing straight through me, touching every erogenous zone in my body.



I scream louder than I've ever screamed in my life, and come all over him.



***



It seems like much, much later that I gain the strength to sit up and look at him. Spock is cleaning himself with his shirt; he's already wiped my come off his face and ear, and there's still a lot of his own on his chest and stomach. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles, a smile I've never seen on him before. One that's both loving and seductive.



"Do you consider yourself fit for command now?"



I grin. "Not this moment. But if I get to do that with you on a regular basis, I think I may be able to control my impulses in public from now on."



"Most satisfactory. I expect I shall find such control less difficult, also, if I am allowed frequent contact of this sort with you."



"Mmm. I look forward to that." I lean in for a kiss. "You were teasing me on purpose, with all those double entendres, weren't you? Just so I'd lose control and kiss your ear."



He gives me a very innocent look. And suddenly, something occurs to me.



"Spock?"



"Jim."



"We just had aural sex."



His only response is a lifted eyebrow, and the ear that moves a little bit at the same time... a promise for the future.







END
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