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Jim found Spock in his own quarters... lying on his bed and hugging a teddy bear.
Blinking rapidly, Jim decided to play it cool. "Hi Spock. Who's your friend?" he smiled, gesturing at the large furry object as the doors swished closed behind him.
"My friend?" It took a moment for Spock to register. "Oh, this is Bumbles. He is on loan from Ensign Chekov." Spock cuddled the bear tighter and buried his nose into its fur. "I understand that such things can help when one feels in need of a hug."
"Yeah... yeah, I guess that's true." Kirk edged closer and came to perch on the end of the bed. "Um, Spock... I've come here because I found out from Bones that there's something troubling you at the moment..." He braced himself for a defensive reaction, perhaps even violent - he had been told that Vulcans in pon farr could be very aggressive.
To his surprise, however, Spock merely looked up at him, eyes wide and sad. "Yes, it is likely that I shall die soon," he breathed, "The ship is too far from any possible source of relief to my condition for an alternative outcome to be reasonable."
At that bald statement, Jim's determination was set alight. "Well, that's not actually true." He paused, hoping his meaning was clear. "Now, I know that you won't like this, and you'll try to make me go away, but please try to see the logic in it."
Spock's brow creased a fraction. "Apologies, Jim, but the solution to which you allude is not apparent to me."
Jim took a deep breath; so, he'd have to spell it out. "I am here to act as a partner for you." Spock gasped, but Jim waved for silence, leaping into the onslaught he had prepared for the inevitable struggle, "You can just close your eyes and pretend I'm someone else - anyone you like. You don't even have to enjoy it; it's just biologically necessary, right? So we can just do it once and then completely forget about it, and then everything will go back to normal. Now I know you're going to argue and send me away, but Vulcan pride isn't worth very much if you loose your life in the process, is it? Surely you can see that it's only logical for us to do this, and then-"
"-Jim!" Spock interrupted. Kirk looked away, bracing himself for whatever came next; he knew that however angry Spock became it was his job to stay calm and relentlessly logical. He glanced back, ready for the challenge, expecting to see an expression of outrage. He was greeted however, by Spock's face wreathed in smiles. "Oh, Jim, you'd really do that? For me?"
"Um... yeah." He knew it sounded fatuous.
Spock was still smiling but his lips had started to tremble, little tears dampening the teddy bear's fur by his cheek. He took a shaky breath. "Oh, Jim, you're so absolutely amazing, it's no wonder I love you so very much!"
"You, err...?"
"Love you. Of course I love you!"
Now that was... unexpected. A silence stretched on between them, Spock beaming while Jim did a close impersonation of a codfish. Could it be true? Did Spock really feel like that about him? Or was it just the pon farr talking? "Gee, Spock, that's awful nice of you - but try to remember you might not always feel quite like this, kay?"
"Feel like this? About you? Oh, Jim, I have known myself in love with you for the past three years, perhaps longer! Every time I see you, my... what is the Terran idiom? ...yes, 'my heart aches for you.' It takes all of my self-control not to hold you close, not to try to kiss you... But now I know that you have come to lie with me, this is happiness beyond compare." Spock held out his arms, "Come to me, my dearest, my t'hy'la!"
Jim blinked a few more times. He took a deep breath, and, wondering why he felt far more jittery than even he had expected to about this, toed off his shoes and settled into Spock's waiting arms, the teddy bear now forgotten against the pillow.
Spock exhaled a contented sigh as his embrace closed around Jim, sounding as if he had been holding that very breath for months. One hand stroked through Jim's hair while the other held his back tightly. "Oh my darling, how I have longed for you..."
Jim had prepared himself for many things before knocking on his First Officer's door that evening, but soppiness had not been one of them. He tried to focus on the job at hand - on saving Spock's life for Christ's sake - and did his best to ignore the naive, hopeful little voice that began to speak at the back of his mind.
He shivered as Spock's lips pressed gently against his temple, chaste and loving. Goddamnit, pull yourself together, Jim thought to himself. Now really wasn't the time to revisit those hopes he had long since buried; those futile dreams that Spock might actually return the regard he had long felt.
It had been his scheme to perform the necessary act quickly; as efficiently as possible. Undressing would have been cursory, and only the obvious parts of their bodies would have needed to touch; they wouldn't even have needed to look at each other.
To that end, nuzzling had certainly not been part of the plan. - Yet that was how Jim then found himself - inhaling Spock's dark, fresh scent while gentle kisses were mouthed across his jaw and his painfully kept resolve not to fall for a man who apparently had no emotions crumbled by the minute.
The kisses moved upward to his cheek, across his brow, and then downward, dangerously close, until... they were kissing each other on the mouth. Softly at first, Spock's eyes closed in simple bliss, and then with more urgency - Jim willing himself not to fall into the moment but thoroughly unable to resist when Spock's tongue brushed his own; something snapping in his chest as he moaned into the embrace and moved to plunder that beautiful cavern that he had for so long lamented would never be within his reach.
"Oh God, Spock..." he breathed, not fully realizing the words were his own.
"Jim..." Spock whispered, eyes still fluttered closed as he pulled away, body arching upwards, seeking closer contact. "Please Jim, make love to me..."
"Um, yeah... I s'pose that's why we're here." He cringed at the sound of his words, thick and ringing drunk even though he had never felt more awake in his life. Spock was liquid in his arms; stroking, undulating. How could he possibly remain detached? How could he hope to keep his mind with such closeness, such tenderness whispered his way?
"Jim, now, please... please take this virginity from me..."
"Take this... what?!" He drew away in shock. Spock, a virgin? How could he...? But what about...? He stayed propped up on his arms for a moment, regarding his first officer sprawled on the bed, expressions of passion painted across his green-flushed features. Something both ecstatic and mournful tugged at Jim's insides; his head swam with a dreadful sense of responsibility - culpability even - despite the fact that he had not yet done a thing.
Questions and concerns by the dozen rose up in his mind - Would it work? Were there crucial differences between Humans and Vulcans? Did Spock even know exactly what he was asking? - and alongside those were dual swells of protectiveness, and - yes, he had to admit the guilty feeling - intense arousal. To think that he would be the first to... damn it, even the thought made his blood boil.
The other part of Jim, however - the hurting, selfish part - cried that he really shouldn't be doing this; not when he was sure it had to be impersonal. He should just run away and tell a female junior to go and sort out Spock - even though it would be a gross breach of trust, and Starfleet coercion rules, and most other things he truly believed in. Jim was usually on intimate terms with his own libido but just then he cursed it; how could he possibly make love with that gorgeous Vulcan once, knowing that he would never again have the chance?
Taking a shaky breath, Jim mastered himself. He reasoned that he couldn't be a coward; James T. Kirk never had been and never would be a coward. He could go away and lick his own wounds later, after all.
Desperately, he told himself to remember the truth: it was all make-believe. Spock wouldn't actually recall a thing when the fever had passed, and would likely regret it bitterly. He may even hate Jim for the imposition. He would, however, be alive. That was all that had to matter.
Spock, for his part, however, seemed oblivious to any such struggles; a calm smile bloomed across his features as he regarded Jim regarding him. "I'm so pleased that you will be my first, Jim," he murmured, "But really, there could have been no-one else - not in my heart." His big dark eyes locked with Jim's, and Jim found himself unable to look away; the sensation was something like drowning, but drowning willingly and with no wish to gasp for air. His throat was tight and his brain devoid of anything approaching a suitable response, but he was saved having to reply when Spock began to tug at his clothes - ineffectually, but the meaning was clear. Taking a deep breath, Jim followed suit - off with their sweaters and undershirts, off with pants and socks.
Lying with Spock, both unclad, was a feeling as stunning as it was surreal. The Vulcan's body was so wonderfully hot. Whether that was natural for Vulcans or an effect of the pon farr, Jim could not tell - but the sensation made him both tingle and burn, incapable of keeping his hands away from the beautiful source of that heat - stroking Spock's arms, his chest, his belly - reverently, and then frantically as a parched man might reach out for water.
Such ministrations were amply rewarded; the small part of Jim's mind that was not overwhelmed with lust - or was not the tiny, losing corner that still screamed against such recklessness - reckoned that he had never had a more responsive lover. At every caress, Spock arched into his touch, gentle purrs and moans escaping his throat as his muscles stretched and corded, collarbones and ribs and hips gliding beneath his skin as he twisted, forever seeking Jim's next touch. He was slim but far from scrawny, shoulders broad and strong, belly flat and lightly furred, skin satiny soft and without blemish, flushing green across his cheeks and chest. Quite simply, Jim found the sight to be very, very beautiful. - More beautiful even than he had dreamed, all those guilty hours sitting in the captain's chair, his eyes fixed on the back of Spock's elegant neck at the Science station.
Spock's lips found his own again, and Jim felt overwhelmed at how amazingly good the Vulcan was at kissing, even if he claimed inexperience at everything else. Their lips caressed and their tongues danced, Spock's hands exploring his form as they rubbed against each other, arousal pooling warm and liquid in Jim's belly as erections pushed against each other's thighs.
In the normal course of events, Jim was happy to take either role in bed. He had assumed that Vulcans in pon farr would be more likely to write a weepy romance novel than to bottom, though, so was taken somewhat by surprise when all of a sudden Spock rolled backwards, legs aloft and exposing his most intimate nakedness to Jim's view. "Please, Jim..." he murmured, unabashed, and Jim simultaneously tried to remind himself that he still needed to breathe even when he was so thoroughly set alight - and to enquire as to Spock's creative writing habits at a later date.
It would have been so easy just to take Spock at his own invitation just then, pounding fiercely into his body so alluringly proffered. Indeed, in that split second of lust and thrust, Jim vaguely wondered exactly which of them was supposed to be suffering from genetically caused blood fever.
However, he reined himself back. Virgin. First-time. For once, the sensible part of his mind agreed with the animal: he should just proceed with the act, get it over with, but his sentimentality - that very human weakness that Spock would surely scorn when he was reunited with his senses - told him he couldn't be so heartless about it.
If Spock had never had sex before he wouldn't really know how it was supposed to feel. Perhaps he knew the basic biology and that was all; perhaps it was merely instinct in the pon farr; perhaps he would be hurt? Jim could never imagine hurting Spock - not his officer, his friend - and yes, no matter how much he had tried to suppress the feelings - the man with whom he was almost certainly in love. Even if this one time they would lay together was to be regretted and forgotten straight afterwards, Jim resolved that he wanted to make it wonderful; he wanted to give Spock those feelings.
Jim therefore attempted to ignore his own pulsing hardness at so tempting a sight, and carefully reached between Spock's legs to stroke his erection; long, hard, blooming green at its tip. Spock's eyes widened in shock at the contact, his mouth forming a silent 'oh,' and then he mewled and threw his head backwards as Jim's hand began to stroke, eyes squeezed shut, thighs widened, reason seemingly long lost in a sea of sensation.
Jim continued stroking for what might have been minutes, every line of Spock's body becoming became more and more tense. Spock was so beautiful like that, hard and needy in his shifting hand, and Jim was greedy for the sight, storing it up carefully in his memory for guilty replay when all this was but a memory.
He was wary, however, that his mission would be lost if things ended too soon. Therefore he shifted upon the bed and moved to kiss those smooth, perfect buttocks, starting to move to the next stage. Spock responded to the added contact, pressing upward into his touch, and Jim's mouth circled higher, drawing his tongue slowly down balls and perineum until he was lapping at his lover's virgin entrance, gaining confidence in his actions until he elicited nothing but a stream of gasping babble from the Vulcan he pleasured.
When it really looked as if Spock could take no more, Jim drew back. He blew a cool stream of air where his tongue had busied, making Spock cry out and wriggle upon the sheets, then cautiously he tried a finger.
Tight; very tight; it was a good thing he hadn't just done it when asked. Spock stilled at the first touch - so alien it must have felt - but then he murmured something too soft to hear and seemed to relax, moving as if he wanted nothing but. Curling inside, Jim wondered whether human and Vulcan anatomy would have a key gland in common. A sharp cry from Spock quickly answered his question, and then everything seemed to become more urgent - Spock pushing back on his finger until Jim needed to add a second, Spock's cheekbones shining like green apples and Jim becomingly increasingly sure that if he didn't do something about his own need in the following few seconds, he would spend himself across the Vulcan's taut inner thighs.
Jim had brought a bottle of oil with his to Spock's chambers in preparation, and he uncorked it then, quickly slathering himself before encouraging Spock's legs to rest on his shoulders. Spock was gasping and his eyes were still tightly shut; Jim wondered with a hint of sadness whether the pon farr had made him too delirious to quite realize what was happening. He knew, though, that that couldn't be allowed to matter, and - perhaps shamefully - his cock throbbed nevertheless.
As if he might have heard those thoughts, Spock opened his eyes and locked Jim with his gaze; eerie calm. "I want to feel you inside me, Jim. I wantyou."
The words were said with such presence of mind; such tender expression; sweetness so great if was almost painful - and Jim could only find relief in pushing forwards, enveloping himself in Spock's tight heat as his instincts took over and his heart both sang and ached.
He thrust, hard and fast, and Spock instinctively titled his hips to maximize the depth of each stroke. Their bodies joined with such natural ease it was difficult for Jim to imagine that they had never done this before - outside of his own heady fantasies.
The expression on Spock's face was exquisite; openly needy, riding the waves of pleasure without care or reserve. He gasped each time Jim's cock massaged his prostrate, bucking up ever higher, wanting more and more and more. A litany of whispered endearments flowed from each ragged breath. "Jim... my darling, my love, my own... my Jim..."
It was far too beautiful for Jim to be able to stand for very long. The heat and tension pooled in his blood, pushing him ever closer as he moved within Spock's gorgeous body and regarded those serious features in the throes of extraordinary passion. At the very second his balls tensed with orgasm and every muscle was stiff with ecstatic release he felt Spock's fingers at his temple - and all was bliss, then all was black.
*******
Jim started awake when he felt a sharp movement beneath him; twitching, shifting, panic. His mind was groggy and his limbs were filled with lead, but he forced himself up and alert, quickly registering where he was lying. Spock's quarters. With Spock.
Unfortunately, the Vulcan in question seemed far from comfortable. Unable to climb out of the bed without touching Jim further, Spock had retreated to the top of the mattress, knees curled to his chest, sheet pulled to his neck. His face was grim - some might have called it a bland Vulcan mask, but to Jim he looked horrified.
They regarded each other for a long moment, awkwardness writ large across the scene. Jim wondered how long they had been unconscious, whether Spock was cured, whether he could remember what had happened between them. He opened his mouth to speak. "Spock, I-"
"-It is necessary for me to express my gratitude for your behaviour, Captain," Spock interrupted, keeping his gaze level and his face taut, "You have undergone something which no commanding officer should be expected to endure, even under the circumstance of duty of care to a member of his crew-"
"-But Spock, I-"
"-Further, I am compelled to apologize for the humiliating indignities to which I have subjected you while I was without possession of my logical faculties."
That synopsis of their lovemaking hit Kirk like a kick in the gut. A part of him wanted to protest vociferously, even though he knew he had no right. He'd forced himself upon Spock in order to save Spock's life. That was all.
Yet, a reckless thought also came to him. Was Spock just surmising what had occurred without any real memory? Did he not realize how much pleasure they had shared? "Do you... actually recall what happened between us?" he asked, trying not to let the anxiousness he felt flicker his voice.
"I am aware of our physical joining, yes," Spock replied. He then seemed to steel himself even further. "I am also aware that I said a number of entirely unacceptable things to you, for which I cannot adequately express my remorse." A long pause; still he would not look at Jim. "If you would prefer it, I shall apply for transfer to a different Starfleet vessel, such that we will not-"
"-No!" The word tumbled out without thinking, before Jim could check himself. "I mean, a transfer will not be necessary, Mr. Spock."
Spock nodded, the grim expression still pulling at the corners of his mouth as they sat in awkwardness on his bed, the Vulcan swaddled in sheets, Jim too distracted to notice his own nakedness.
Inside, Jim felt utterly crushed. The rational part of his brain told him this frosty outcome was the only one he could have reasonably expected, but still he riled against it - their joining had seemed so passionate, so real, surely it couldn't have really been meaningless? A resolution sprang to his mind: he was James T. Kirk - he had to be beyond doubt; he needed to push. "So, you're sure that was just the fever talking then, Spock?" he asked, trying to sound a little jovial though he felt anything but.
"I would not say such things when well." Another stony silence.
Jim felt a sharp pain as his hopes withered to dust. "Yup. Right. Of course you wouldn't."
He tried very hard to swallow his disappointment. So, it had all been fake; Spock didn't love him after all. It probably could have been anyone who had walked through the door that afternoon and the pon farr would have latched onto them, too. There was nothing special about the way Spock felt for him. Inwardly, Jim cursed himself for allowing himself to hope; for being so fucking stupid. "So, I'll get out of your hair, then."
He rose from the bed and grabbed for his clothes, arrayed as they were across the floor of Spock's quarters. He dressed as quickly as possible, keeping eyes to the floor; there was no wish left in his breast but that to leave the room as soon as he could. He didn't even bother with fastening his shoes before he strode to the door-
- and then he felt the most overwhelming surge in his mind; something that stopped him dead in his tracks; something that came from within him and yet not from within him, throbbing with hope and pain and remorse and excitement and terrible loss all at once.
The sensation was quite debilitating, but not something he felt repelled by. No; it was a sweet pain, something that drew him forward, made him linger...
...And then he saw that Spock had darted from his seat on the bed and positioned himself between Jim and the door. The Vulcan seemed no longer to notice that his body was bare, and when he spoke his voice was quiet; perhaps uncertain, eyes closed. "Stay with me."
Jim couldn't quite believe what he had heard. "Stay... with you?"
By way of explanation, Spock gestured at the meld points on Jim's brow, his face shadowed with surprise and fear and daring all at once. "I feel what you feel. In time, you will learn to hear me, also. I do not know how I came to receive your affection, Jim, but I would be a coward to allow you to believe that affection is not returned."
Jim blinked, searching Spock's honest face, the enormity of that statement ringing about his ears. "You mean all that was..."
"True. Yes. I... find myself incapable of eloquently articulating such emotions outside of the plak-tow. But that does not negate their veracity."
Slowly, the tension slipped from Jim's features. Spock really loved him?
Spock really loved him!
It was almost more happiness than Jim could hold in his heart at once; he stared slack-jawed at the man of his illicit hopes and dreams, just letting the feeling bubble over him, his mind running wild. They were really going to be together - as friends, lovers, partners. Many things had surprised him about Vulcan biology in the previous few hours, but he was certain of one thing about Vulcan culture: any emotional commitment Vulcans did make, they made for keeps. Nothing could have pleased the formerly-promiscuous, formerly-pining captain of the Enterprise more.
All of that surged upward as he held out his arms to the seemingly implacable Vulcan who stood perfectly upright before him. "Well, how say we work on that, then? ...Snugglepuss."
Spock raised an incredulous eyebrow at the moniker, but stepped into Jim's outstretched arms nevertheless, his naked body pressed against Jim's Starfleet-issue clothing with careful precision.
The kiss that followed was stiff, chaste, awkward; as if Spock no longer knew quite what to do - but that didn't matter a jot. When they pulled away, Jim felt as if his feet could walk on the air.
A slight frown creased Spock's brow, however. "If you wish for us to engage in coital relations outside of pon farr, I regret that I shall initially require patience and instruction. I trust you understand that does not imply reluctance."
Jim pressed a kiss to Spock's cheek, just by his ear. "I understand." Something within his mind pulsed once more; warm, content. "I understand with all my heart."
He led them back to the bed and held the covers aloft for Spock to slide beneath, settling on his side. Jim removed his own clothes once more then carefully stretched out next to his friend, his love, his bondmate, chests and bellies pressed together, legs entwined.
Spock's eyes widened at the unaccustomed contact, but he did not pull away. A hesitant arm moved to lie across Jim's back - as if it was an experiment - and Jim smiled as he reciprocated the gesture. They stayed like that for long minutes, neither moving, learning the feel of one another. Jim almost dared not breathe lest he spoil the moment.
Then, inhaling deeply, Spock closed his eyes and whispered across the pillow. "Stay with me, Jim. Be with me always."
Jim pressed a kiss to those firm lips - which this time softened under his touch. "I will. Th'y'la, I will."
*******
The next day, Ensign Chekov was very pleased to be reunited with Bumbles the Teddy Bear, glad that his work was done.