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“Damn it, Spock, you should be here with me.” A very naked and very cranky James T. Kirk sprawled on his bed, glaring up at the charmingly rustic beams of his rented cabin. “Important work in the lab, my ass.” He kicked his heel once against the mattress, mussing the sheet beneath him. It was a childish, tantrum-like gesture and he knew it, but it made him feel a tiny bit better.

What a waste. He had everything he needed for the perfect shore leave: three days off-duty, a secluded cabin, and a good stiff erection. There was only one little element lacking.

Damn stubborn Vulcan.

Kirk sighed and looked down at his rigid cock. “All dressed up and no place to go,” he murmured ruefully. “Calm the hell down, will you, before I lose my mind.” The cock, as intractable as the Vulcan Jim had just been cursing, paid no heed. Jim grimaced. He hadn’t really held out much hope anyway: he’d already tried a cold shower and an even colder swim. It wanted Spock, that’s all there was to it.

“I want Spock,” Jim admitted to the empty air.

The last month had been incredible. It had started horribly, with that black, awful day when it seemed that the entire crew of the Galileo was lost. Jim still didn’t care to remember clearly the heavy weight on his shoulders and in his heart as he tried to grapple with the thought that he might never see his first officer, his beloved friend, again. His joy and his relief at having Spock returned to him swept away all his caution once and for all: he had kissed Spock, passionately, just as soon as they were alone.

Jim smiled. After the kiss, Spock had done just exactly what Kirk had always feared. He had blinked just once, murmured a polite excuse, called Jim “Captain,” and fled. Well, he hadn’t actually run from the room, but pretty damn close. And Jim had been left to think, and fret, and lie in his bed chasing sleep that never came. He had been convinced that what the destruction of the Galileo hadn’t caused, the kiss had: Spock was gone to him forever.

But then a miracle occurred.

After a few hours, Spock had come back, knelt by the bed, and took Jim’s face in his hands. Then his first officer had leaned forward and kissed him thoroughly, expertly, with no apparent misgivings. Evidently, Spock had just needed 3.1 hours to work everything out in that amazing mind of his. And once he had decided, he approached making love to Jim with his customary single-minded dedication.

Jim spread his legs and then reached down to wrap his hand around his straining penis. Thinking about that night and all the others since then only served to exacerbate his little problem, but he couldn’t help it. He started to stroke himself slowly, his eyes closed, as he recalled all the things he and Spock had done that night. He’d been gloriously surprised at how passionate, how uninhibited Spock had been. God – the feel of Spock’s long lean body beneath Jim’s hand, the heat of Spock’s tongue, the sight of that beautiful, chiseled face transformed with pleasure…

Jim stroked himself faster and bit his lip. From a distance away, he heard himself moan, felt his back arch away from the bed. He kept his eyes clamped shut as he remembered the sensation of Spock fucking him hard, the harsh sound of Spock’s voice calling his name, the indescribable feeling of Spock’s hot seed shooting deep into his ass.

“Unnghhhh!” The thought of that last was too much; with a final frantic thrust, Jim climaxed, shooting his own molten cum into his hand and across his taut stomach. With a sigh, he relaxed against his pillows, a slight smile on his sated face.

“Fascinating. How can such a wasteful act be so beautiful to behold?”

Jim’s eyes flew open – he knew that deep, perfectly modulated voice very well. “Spock!” Sure enough, there was his tall, dignified Vulcan, standing in the doorway with a dufflebag in his hand, apparently entranced by the sight before him. For a second, Jim just gaped at him, too surprised by Spock’s sudden appearance to respond to what he’d said. Finally, he smiled and said teasingly, “I wouldn’t call it a wasteful act at all, Mr. Spock. I rubbed the right thing, and my dearest wish was granted. Just like Aladdin.”

Without taking his eyes from the human, Spock set his bag down on the floor and began to walk slowly toward the bed. “Your dearest wish,” he said. “Then – this was for me?”

“Um, actually, it was more about you than for you. In fact, it was all about you.”

Spock’s dark, smoldering eyes wandered over Kirk’s body, finally settling on the little pool of cum on Jim’s abdomen. Unconsciously, he licked his lips. Jim stayed perfectly still. Spock had a way of making him feel that he was worshipped, and frankly, he loved it. He started to become aware of the old familiar thrill of anticipation that Spock’s nearness always engendered in him. As if sensing this, Spock came over slowly and sat on the side of the bed.

“So, what are you doing here?” Jim asked softly. “I thought you had a very important experiment going on in the lab.”

Spock reached out his long index finger and dipped it into the wetness on Kirk’s stomach. Leaning forward, he traced the dampened finger over Jim’s lips. “I found I was distracted,” he confessed, his mouth mere inches from Jim’s. “I was unable to work with any degree of efficiency or accuracy.” Having said this, he kissed Jim deeply, then ran his hot tongue lightly across the human’s lips to claim the thick liquid he had spread there.

When Kirk got his breath back enough to speak, he said, “And this distraction – was it for me?”

“It was about you,” Spock said. “It was, in fact, all about you.” His dark-lashed eyes sought Jim’s. “Tell me,” he whispered.

“My thoughts? You know you can have them anytime,” Jim said, making a vague gesture toward his temple.

Spock shook his head slightly. “Not that way, ” he said, urgently. “Tell me. I wish to hear it in your voice, in your words.”

Jim smiled in sudden understanding. Spock wanted to know what Jim had been fantasizing about while he pleasured himself. Always curious, his Vulcan. “All right,” he agreed languidly. He was feeling very relaxed and pleasant, basking in the afterglow of his orgasm and in the heat of Spock’s mesmerizing gaze. “I’ll tell you all about it.” He regarded the Vulcan through half-closed, seductive eyes. “I’ll tell you all about you.”

Spock waited, lips parted, intent on Jim’s words.

“I was thinking about our first night together,” Jim said. “I was remembering how beautiful you were, lying there naked on my bed.”

Spock stood up gracefully and without a shred of self-consciousness efficiently removed his clothing. As his pants fell to the floor, his massive sex sprung out rigidly in front of him; Jim felt his own cock start to harden at the sight of it. “Like this?” Spock asked, returning to the bed, where he knelt between Jim’s splayed legs.

“Mmmm,” Kirk purred in appreciation. “Exactly like that.” He resisted the urge, strong as it was, to reach out and take Spock in his hand; something told him Spock had something else in mind. He would wait and see, he decided. “I was recalling,” he continued, “the taste of your kiss, how good your tongue felt in my mouth, the way your skin felt when I ran my hands over your body.”

Spock reached out and dipped his hand once again into Jim’s still-wet cum. Jim felt his muscles contract in pleasure at the touch, but willed himself to remain still. With an almost imperceptible smile, Spock enclosed his hard staff with his moistened hand and started to stroke himself slowly, deliberately. “Tell me,” he urged again, his voice hoarse.

Jim closed his eyes for a moment, losing himself again in the fantasy. “I was thinking about how you held me down and then took me in your mouth, how that tongue of yours tortured me and pleasured me and made me so crazy I thought I’d disintegrate.” He stole a glance at Spock; the Vulcan’s expression was rapt; both of his graceful hands slid rhythmically over his long penis, shiny and slick with Jim’s wet seed and the slippery fluid of his own arousal. God, he was breathtaking! Jim felt his cock stiffen and extend; he wanted Spock just as badly as he had a half an hour before. He flattened his hands determinedly against the bed to keep himself from reaching out. “I remembered how when I came in your mouth you swallowed all of it and made those little noises in the back of your throat – those little whimpers I didn’t even know you could make – and how I looked down at you and saw your face. It looked – it looked beatific, Spock. And I remembered how I felt like I was flying and dreaming all at once, when I saw that expression on your face and knew that what we were doing had put it there.”

Spock’s breath came and went in quick little gasps; his hands moved a little faster. “Yes,” he whispered.

Jim couldn’t even think about looking away. He only wanted to bring more of this to Spock; wanted, suddenly, to see if the power of his own words would be enough to push the supposedly controlled, restrained Vulcan over the edge. “Then I remembered,” he said, his voice low and charged with pure sex, “how you pulled me up against you and spread me with your hands and pushed that big cock of yours into me so far I thought I’d come apart. How you didn’t move at all for a moment, how you waited until I thought I might lose my mind from the want of you. How you started to fuck me, how you pushed into me and pulled out of me, your breath on my neck and your hands in my hair and your lips and your eyes and your beautiful face above me, your scent and your heat and your arms all around me…”

Spock’s eyes flew open. “Jim,” he groaned, and reached out his left hand, leaving his right still wrapped around his turgid sex. As he touched Jim’s temple and cheek, the connection between them flooded Jim with a charged torrent of memory, sensation, desire and orgasm. As the full force of Spock’s climax poured into his mind and over his body, Jim came fiercely also, without a hand upon him, but with all of Spock inside of him.

Spock gave a small sigh and fell forward onto Jim’s chest. For long moments, they held each other contentedly, loathe to move or to speak. Finally, Spock observed, “I fear that we are both becoming inordinately sticky.”

Jim smiled. He’d known that statement was coming: Spock hated to feel unclean. “Don’t worry – we’ve got a very adequate shower with plenty of room for two. I used it myself already, with some nice icy water, when I was trying to cope with you not being here. Want to try it out?”

“That would be most agreeable, provided we use warm water.” Spock brushed his lips across Jim’s bare shoulder, and then looked up at him. “May I ask your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Well, there’s a beautiful lake – we could go for a swim. Or we could try out one of the hiking trails.” A huge yawn suddenly overtook him. “Or maybe a nap,” he added. “What do you want to do?”

Spock tilted his head to one side, considering. “A shower first,” he announced. “And then, perhaps a nap would be advisable. It would be wise for us to be well-rested.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

Spock pulled Jim to him and claimed his lips in a lingering kiss. “Because after we rest, I think that I shall tell you… all about you.”

The End