It started out as just another shore leave. The Enterprise was back at Earth for renovations and resupply, and the whole crew had leave time coming. Kirk had finally talked Spock into a hiking trip in the Big Basin Preserve, an hour or so south of FleetCom if one went by flitter. He had camped there himself during furloughs from the Academy, and had plied the Vulcan with glowing descriptions of the beauty and richness of the forest ecosystem. And finally, Spock had given in, agreeing that SpaceDock seemed to have things well in hand. The next two days, Enterprise would be uninhabitable, as the total volumes of her air and water were dumped and replaced. And Spacedock's hostel was -- pedestrian, at best. So he agreed. Since it was the middle of August, it would not be too cold for him, as long as he brought warm clothes.

They beamed down to the parking lot, and spent a few minims checking their gear, tightening boot laces, and so on. Jim was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, plus backpack and bedroll; Spock had chosen jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt, plus his own pack and kit. Both were quite comfortable in their attire of choice. Jim purchased a topo map from the Park Service robobooth. It had been a few years since he'd hiked here, and he wanted to be sure he knew where they were going. Finally they were ready, and Jim led the way into the forest.

The area rapidly grew untamed; within an hour the only sign of human presence was the narrow, meandering trail itself. Jim set a leisurely pace, knowing his friend only too well.

Spock was fascinated, peering endlessly at this leaf and that insect, poking about under rocks, sniffing things, taking notes, and generally having the restrained, quiet time of his Vulcan life. He had read of this place, had seen pictures of it, but had never before been here in person. It was lovely, and quite unspoiled. The trees were enormous, fairly widely spaced; tall red-barked giants whose canopy, far overhead, broke the sunlight into fleeting bits and sparkles. The underbrush was relatively sparse; the forest took most of the light for itself.

Everything was lush and green, even now, in the height of summer. And such variety -- an endless array of different greens and browns, myriads of different sorts of foliage, and every now and then a splash of brighter colour where wildflowers had found some light. The air was rich and sweet, perfumed with the smells of the trees and the flowers; a little damp for Vulcan lungs, perhaps, but not at all unpleasant. And the oxygen level was high enough to fill both men with a boundless sense of well-being.

They stopped and ate their lunch in a clearing, a place where one of the giant trees had fallen, uncounted years ago, letting in the sun and the clean fresh air. An entirely different assortment of plants grew here. The tree itself was hardly rotted at all, but the fallen trunk was covered with innumerable ferns, at least ten different kinds of moss, and no less than three strong healthy saplings, rooted in cracks in the bark. Jim pointed to those, and said, "If the roots had stayed covered when it fell, this whole tree would be a thicket of saplings like that, growing right up through the bark. Redwoods are hard to kill." Spock nodded, thoughtfully, and went on looking around.

Eventually he came back to where Jim was sitting, and said quietly, "You were right, Jim. This is an extraordinary place. My thanks..."

Jim grinned. "'Course I'm right. I'm the captain, that's why they pay me the big money, you know." Spock raised a sardonic eyebrow at that, but made no further comment. He didn't have to; his face said it for him. Jim just grinned, and let it ride.

They packed up the remains of their lunch and set out again, falling by habit into the easy, trail-devouring stride of countless previous planetfalls. This was a routine with which both were familiar. Neither spoke much, as the shadows began to lengthen; they were easy in one another's company, as they had always been.

Finally, perhaps an hour before sundown, they reached another clearing, this one with a stone-ringed fire-pit in its center. In summer, no fires were actually permitted here, of course, but Jim had brought along a compact little campstove, powered by the same kind of energy cell their phasers used. That, and the single communicator in a pocket of his pack, were the only high-tech items they had brought with them. The Basin was a Protected area; no powered vehicles were permitted here, nor any weapons. And in truth, the most dangerous lifeform here was probably the poison oak, and McCoy had immunized them against that.

They'd seen occasional deer trails, but no deer. This time of year, Jim had explained, the deer were foraging at a higher elevation than this. The knives they carried were strictly for use as tools -- and both found it a pleasant change, to be ashore without needing to be either armed, or on guard. It was an all too rare event.

It didn't take them long to set up camp -- one lightweight two-man tent, and two bedrolls. The camp stove could double as a heater; once dinner was over both men enjoyed sitting silently by its warmth, while the air grew cool and the stars began to come out. Around them the forest sang softly to itself, in the language of the night. Finally, they moved the heater into the tent, set the temperature just high enough for Spock to sleep comfortably, and retired for the night. Tired from the day's exertions, both fell easily into deep and dreamless sleep.

Jim awoke to the smell of coffee and sat up to take the mug that was hovering in front of his nose. "Ahh -- perfect. Remind me to get you a pay raise, Mr. Spock."

"Certainly, Captain." The Vulcan favoured him with one of those sparkling almost-smiles of his, and popped back out of the tent. Jim grinned to himself. It was marvelous, simply being off duty for a while. It had been a long time since they'd had a decent shoreleave. He didn't count occasional afternoons spent shopping at this Starbase or that. It wasn't the same thing at all.

Properly dressed and caffeinated, he crawled out of the tent, to see Spock sitting cross-legged next to the firepit, methodically devouring a bowl of oatmeal. More oatmeal simmered on the tiny stovetop. Jim got himself more coffee, and sat down to eat.

It didn't take long to eat and break camp. Jim spread out the topo map, and thought for a moment. "Now, look here, Spock. We can go this way -- there's some lovely meadows a little further on. But if you don't mind climbing down to it, there's a *very* nice waterfall, over here."

The Vulcan looked up at him, curiousity shining in the black eyes. "What sort of climb is it, Jim? We did not bring any equipment..."

Jim shook his head. "No, it's more of a steep downhill trail, than an actual climb. No ropes or any of that needed; you just have to be careful."

"Very well," Spock replied. "Then by all means, let us go that way." Jim nodded, pleased. It was his own preference, as well. And so they headed out.

It was shortly after lunch when they came to the downhill in question. The trail headed down a fairly steep, heavily overgrown hill, zigzagging back and forth in sharp little switchbacks. Jim's knees weren't overly happy, but he did well enough as long as he kept his pace down. Spock, of course, was as sure-footed as a cat.

Jim let him take the lead, for his long legs made it difficult for him to stay behind on a downhill trail. Besides, the human enjoyed watching his friend's easy grace. Even here, on unfamiliar terrain, Spock moved as smoothly as one born to this. Jim just smiled, and kept up as best he could. He had wanted to show Spock this place for a long time; he knew the delight the Vulcan felt in such surroundings. Even though he didn't say much, Spock's enjoyment was a kind of quiet glow in both their minds. Yes. This had definitely been a good idea...

As they descended the side of the mountain, the trail drew ever closer to the stream, until the burbling chuckle of the water was a constant companion. Below them, the waterfall splashed merrily. It was cooler down here, but still very pleasant, and Jim was delighted. If anything, the place was even lovelier than he'd remembered.

They were only a hundred yards or so from the bottom when it happened. Spock paused, at one of the switchbacks, and turned to look up at Jim. He pointed to one side, where a streamlet arched over a rock and out into the sunlight, making a dazzling array of diamond-bright sparkles, flashing rainbow refractions across his face and painting his night-black hair with colours both rich and deep. "Look, Jim..." he said -- and this time he did smile, ever so faintly.

And in slow motion, too far away to do anything but watch, Jim saw him start to slip. A tiny avalanche of gravel and dirt started, where he was standing, where the trail was worn on that corner. The slanted eyebrows shot up in surprise, as Spock twisted in mid-air like a cat. His slide began to gather speed, as gravity took over. As he often could in times of crisis, Jim could feel the Vulcan's mind racing, as he sought for a path to safety. Even now, he was calm -- but *busy*.

He managed to turn himself around. He even managed to grab on to a bush that was growing on the edge of the path. For an instant which lasted both forever and no time at all, as Jim scrambled madly down the trail towards him, he hung motionless, one hand fastened around the bush's trunk, the other reaching up toward his friend.

Then the dirt gave way completely. The bush pulled loose, and bush, dirt, and Vulcan went rolling and tumbling down the mountain, to splash, finally, into the pool at the bottom. A few more rocks landed around him, and then everything was still again. Spock lay, motionless, face down in the water. That sense of his thoughts was gone, as if it had never been.

Jim could never remember, afterward, how he managed not to fall, himself. He ignored everything he'd ever learned about safety, literally running down the trail, yelling for Spock to sit up, to move -- anything but that terrifying stillness. He did tumble down the last 20 feet or so, skinning both his knees and scraping the palm of one hand. He didn't even notice, as he shucked his pack and jumped into the pool, splashing and floundering, to get to his friend. The longest moment in his life was the one before his fingers found a pulse in the other's throat. Then he dragged Spock out of the pool and up onto the grass, turned him over, and pounded on his back.

The Vulcan choked and coughed up some water, before he went limp again. He was breathing all right, but his skin was chilled and his clothes were soaked. There was already a bruise on his right cheekbone, and a scrape on his forehead, and although his eyelids fluttered when Jim called his name, he didn't wake up.

Damn. Jim looked up. Maybe an hour now till sunset. He'd better get moving. He opened his pack and grabbed the communicator.

It was dead. There was a large dent in the top, and it rattled when he shook it. Damn. Must have happened when he fell. "All right, Kirk," he muttered to himself, "I guess we do this the old-fashioned way." He quickly got the tent up, and put the stove/heater inside. Then he started removing the other's wet clothes.

Thank god their packs were watertight. Spock's bedroll was soaked, but his spare clothes and towel were dry. Just as well; for sure, none of Jim's stuff was long enough to fit him. Jim wrapped him in one of his own blankets, while he got dry, and changed, himself. Then he dragged the Vulcan into the tent, and started rubbing him down, trying to get the blood flowing, make sure he didn't go into shock. He was bruised here and there, but there didn't seem to be anything broken.

When he was as dry as the towel could get him, Jim got out dry clothes and laboriously got him dressed. It wasn't easy; Spock was heavier than a human his size would have been, and quite unconscious. But finally it was done, and Jim was reassured to see some colour return to the undamaged portions of his face. He wrapped his blankets back around the Vulcan, for good measure, and put some water on for tea. Then he went out and spread all the wet things over the bushes. Hopefully they would dry by morning -- at least the heater had a nearly full charge. If need be, he'd use that to finish the job, tomorrow.

He crawled back inside the tent just in time to see the black eyes flicker open. Spock winced, and put a hand to his head. "Jim -- what...?"

"Ssh. You fell, Spock. I had to get you out of the pool." He finished making tea, poured some honey into a mug and stirred it up. "Here," he said, holding it toward the Vulcan. "Can you sit up? You should drink this, get yourself warm on the inside as well..."

Spock nodded, still gathering his wits. But he managed to sit up in the coccoon of blankets, and his hands, as he took the tea and began to drink it, were quite steady. Jim poured himself another mug, and sat down beside him.

They drank in silence for a while. Eventually Jim turned and looked at him. The inky black hair was tangled now, a far cry from its usual neatness, and there was a truly glorious bruise developing on the right side of Spock's face. But he was awake and alert, and obviously not in too much pain. It could have been a hell of a lot worse.

"Spock? Whatever possessed you to do that? Do you remember falling?"

The Vulcan looked away, almost as if he were embarrassed. "Yes," he said, quietly. "It was a moment of inattention, Jim. I am sorry, for the inconvenience..."

Jim had to smile, then, remembering some of his own bonehead stunts on landing parties past. "Don't worry about it. Seems to me I've pulled a few of those myself, over the years. Figure we're even, and forget it. I'm just glad nothing more serious happened."

A shiver ran through the Vulcan, and he drank more of his tea. "Indeed..." he murmured, and pulled the blankets up higher around his shoulders. Jim turned the stove up a notch, and began to organize supper.

"I'm afraid we've only got one dry bedroll," he said, as he passed Spock a plate of vegetable curry. "You'd better take it; my communicator got crunched, and we aren't due back for another three days. I can dry our stuff out tomorrow, once the sun comes up."

"That will not be necessary, Jim. There is enough bedding to keep us both warm, if you do not mind sharing. You got wet, too, it would appear." And Jim knew he was looking at his own wet hair.

He gave in. "All right. I know better than to argue when you get *that* look in your eyes." Spock simply nodded and kept on eating. Every now and then he shivered, but he looked a lot better than he had at first. He drank two more mugs of tea and defeated Jim thoroughly at 2D chess, before both of them decided to turn in for the night.

The heater still had 3/4 of its charge, so Jim left it turned up, and the two of them got settled under their remaining dry blankets. Spock fell asleep very quickly, but Jim found himself lying awake. He wasn't uncomfortable at all; he just wasn't sleepy.

Moonlight shone through the tent's light fabric, glinting off the Vulcan's hair and outlining the sharp bones of his face. He threw off almost as much heat as the stove did; after a while, Jim had to strip down to his boxers and t-shirt, so as not to overheat. He grinned again, imagining the rude comments Bones would have made if he could see them.

He took a deep breath, slowly let it out. The cool green smell of the woods mixed pleasantly with the faintly spicy scent of a warm dry Vulcan, and Jim sighed. It really was good, to be away from the ship for a little while, to lay down the burdens of command and simply *be*, for once.

He turned on his side, intending to curl up and try to sleep. That was when he noticed his, um, problem. Part of him wasn't sleepy at all, it seemed. He smiled and rolled his eyes, thinking to himself that he was just going to have to live with it, for once. He certainly wasn't going to... take care of it, as he usually did at night, not curled up next to Spock like this. What if he woke him up? Now *that* would be *really* embarrassing. As far as he knew, Spock didn't even... well. No point in pursuing *that*, was there now?

Nope. Not tonight, he told himself. Just to be on the safe side, he turned again, so that the Vulcan was behind him, dragged his pillow into place, and sternly ordered himself to go to sleep. It took some time, but eventually, he managed. For a while, anyway.

The moon was directly overhead when he awoke again, not sure at first what had roused him. He was plenty warm; between the heater and the warm body curled up against him -- say, what? Very slowly he turned his head, and found himself staring into Spock's sleeping face, from only an inch or two away. One long arm was wrapped around his ribs, and the Vulcan was snuggled against him quite closely. He appeared to be deeply asleep, his face calm and peaceful, looking, somehow, years younger -- and absolutely beautiful, despite the bruises.

Oh, boy. Jim's earlier problem returned, full force. It didn't help at all when Spock softly mumbled something, in dream-slurred Vulcan, and snuggled even closer. Jim tried to keep still, and think of cold showers, buckets of ice, snowstorms -- anything, to convince his rebellious body that this was *not* the time or place for *that*. Oh, boy. Oh, dear. It was going to be a *long* night, at this rate. He wasn't even the slightest bit sleepy, anymore. Good old Jim Kirk, always ready to rise to the occasion...

He managed all right at first, though he wasn't very relaxed. He'd spent far worse nights than this, after all. For a while, he thought he might get away with it. And then he noticed that he wasn't the only one with... a certain... problem, any more.

Well, OK. Lots of guys get one when they're sleeping, right? Nothing to be embarrassed about, we're both grown men, right? But he could feel his cheeks flaming, just the same. Oh, man. All he could think of was, thank *god* Bones had decided not to come along. He'd never have let either of them live this down.

He thought about moving away, but he didn't really want to, he realized. Even though he found this a little embarrassing, it was also rather pleasant, in a sneaky kind of way. Jim was no prude; he'd had more than a few lovers of both sexes, over the years. He'd just never let himself consider Spock in that way; awake, the Vulcan had never seemed the slightest bit interested, either in him, or in anyone else. But it was very nice to lie here like this, with Spock's breath warm on the back of his neck, and that hardness pressed up against his rear. Unexpected, but very nice, indeed. Oh, yes... He smiled to himself, and snuggled backwards, just a *little*.

The arm around his ribs tightened slightly, and the other sighed in his sleep. Jim froze for a moment, then made himself relax. Deep breaths, that was it. Deep breaths. *Control*...

And then, very softly, he heard Spock whisper, "Jim? Are you awake?"

He froze again. Then, realizing he'd already given himself away, he muttered, "Uh, yeah. Sorry, Spock. I didn't mean to..." He tried to sit up, but the blankets were tangled, and he fell back once more.

And then Spock was speaking again, his voice very soft. "Jim -- you have done nothing wrong. It is not unpleasant, to be here with you, like this." As if to emphasize that, that warm arm tightened around him for a moment, then shifted so that Jim could turn and face his friend.

Spock's eyes were very wide, in the dim light; his mouth was slightly open, his breathing faintly ragged. Surprise at what he'd just heard took Jim's breath away for a moment. "*Not* unpleasant? You sure, Spock? I mean, you never... well, um. That is... Oh, hell." He shut up, quite unsure of what he wanted to say, much less how to say it.

The Vulcan lowered his eyes, and Jim could feel the shyness in him, warring with his feelings of friendship... and, he was beginning to realize, of desire. The human lowered his own eyes, and took a deep breath. "Listen, Spock," he said, very quietly. "If you mean what I think you do -- I, ah -- I feel the same way." He reached up and put his hand on one thin shoulder, felt a shiver run through the other at his touch. A wash of heat poured through him, settled in his groin. He forced himself to breathe, to go slow, to make sure he was reading this right. Spock was his best friend, and his executive officer. Nothing was worth spoiling that friendship, no matter what his little head thought about it. His father had always told him that any time a man let his little head do the thinking for the rest of him, he was in for a mess of trouble, and no two ways about it. Jim had proved it the hard way, once or twice, over the years.

He looked up again, and found the other gazing back at him. Surprise, and the beginnings of a shy smile, were showing on that angular face. "Jim," Spock said, very quietly. And then he leaned forward, and wrapped his arms around the human, pulled him in close, all that fierce Vulcan strength held in check... *for me*, Jim thought. He tilted his head, and nuzzled at the base of the other's neck, inhaling the scent of him, savouring it.

"Mmmm," he purred into one elegantly pointed ear. "You smell good." Very delicately he licked at the earlobe, heard the other's breath catch. "You taste good, too."

A hot wet tongue licked at his own neck, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. "You taste good, also, t'hy'la..." murmured that deep velvet voice. Warm hands ran down Jim's back and caressed his ribs; he gasped for air for a moment, until he could catch his breath. The sudden strength of his own desire had taken him by surprise; for years he had studiously avoided such thoughts, fearing to impose or give offense. And now...

He kissed the Vulcan, very lightly. "I, ah -- I gather you are recovered, from your little swim this afternoon?"

Spock returned the kiss, lingering just a bit longer. "Quite recovered, Jim. Though perhaps I should stay warm, just in case..." Impish twinkle, then, in the black eyes...

"Oh, I think we could manage that, my friend." And Jim leaned in for another kiss, opening his mouth, savouring the hot alien sweetness of the Vulcan's tongue. Heat was building in the pit of his belly, like embers being stirred by the wind. He reached to unbutton Spock's shirt, and ran his hand over the warm furred chest until he found a nipple. He pinched it and teased it, still involved in the kiss -- and for a moment, the lean form of his friend stiffened, and trembled, in his arms. And all of this was in Jim's mind, too, an odd muffled echo of what the other felt, a souvenir of all the times that Spock had touched his thoughts in the past...

The he was rolled onto his back, and Spock was kissing *him* -- deep, open-mouthed, *hungry* kisses, setting him on fire. He pulled the Vulcan closer and rubbed their hips together, pressing his own erection against the other's heat. Oh, yes. This was good.

He reached down between them and unfastened Spock's pants. His own boxers were loose enough to slide out of with ease. They wriggled and moved together, wanting to shed their clothes, but unwilling to part, even for a moment, to do it. Finally they managed it, and there they lay together, skin to skin, hot lightly-furred Vulcan against cooler human smoothness. Their cocks pressed together, leaking moisture making them slick and wet. Oh, yes. Jim put his hands on the cheeks of that slim firm ass, and pulled him even closer. He'd been staring at that ass for years, and it felt just as good under his hands as he'd thought it might.

He began to move underneath the other, rubbing up against him, savouring the hot silken feel of their cocks sliding together. In his belly, what had been embers flared into fiery life, hot and bright as the wanting that he could feel now, in both of them. He lifted Spock's hips for a moment, slid him back down again. There. Now each was between the other's legs, cocks sliding between warm wet cheeks, rubbing together, getting hotter and wetter as they grew ever more aroused. Suddenly the Vulcan groaned; he stiffened again and shuddered in Jim's arms, his cock jerking, his seed splashing hotly against the human's ass. It was enough to send Jim over the top, too -- he clutched Spock tightly as he came, whispering his name over and over, licking at his neck and the lobes of his ears. Oh, god, it felt *good*...

They lay quietly for a while, in each other's arms, until Jim noticed that Spock was still hard. As he noticed that, he felt his own erection rear its greedy head again. He whispered to the other, "Could you -- um, do you want to...?" He felt a brief flash of amusement, then, listening to himself stutter and stumble like a horny 12 year old with a bad case of blue balls. But he managed not to laugh, and the moment passed. Instead he nibbled at one of the Vulcan's ears, and the warm salt-sweet hollow behind it.

A tremor ran through the lean body in his arms. "Yes... Tell me, Jim -- what?" The black eyes were closed; Spock trembled, with the pleasure that both of them were feeling. Jim kissed him again, and reached down, to take him in his hand. The Vulcan gasped, at his touch.

"Spock," Jim whispered. "I want you -- I want you inside me. I *need* you, Spock. Please...?" And he opened up his legs, and guided the other where he wanted him to go. He was slick and wet down there, coated with the slippery result of their pleasure. So was Spock; no sooner did he find the right place, than the other was sliding between his cheeks, pressing against his ass, and slowly, carefully, pushing inside...

This time it was Jim who shuddered. "Oh, yes... oh, god, yes... like that... yes." His own cock was squeezed between their bellies; as Spock began, very gently, to move, the fur of his belly dragged softly against Jim's skin, bringing him to even greater arousal. So hot, down there inside him. So full... Their mouths met again, devouring one another in greedy, open-mouthed kisses. Tasting one another, each drinking deep of the other's passion. Jim wrapped his legs around Spock's waist and squeezed. The Vulcan responded by moving a little faster, a little deeper. So good, it was -- so *hot*...

He was on fire inside, pleasure and pain and desire all mixed up together... He was *burning*, and he couldn't catch his breath -- and he didn't care. Spock reached down between them and grasped Jim's yearning sex, squeezing it, milking it in time with his own increasingly frenzied thrusts. Both men were panting, now, gasping for air, making little sounds of pleasure each time they came together. Faster they moved, and harder; flesh slapping against flesh, hot and wet and tight and slick... Oh, yes...

The fire inside them was roaring now, burning them up in its greedy embrace. Faster still, they moved, trying to become one... Tingling waves of pleasure coursed through them both, spreading from the place where they were joined, growing hotter and stronger. The pleasure built, and coiled, higher, tighter, on and on... and finally exploded, both men gasping, crying out together, the Vulcan's seed burning deep inside the human, his own splashing hot between them. Wave after wave of it, slowly declining, until at last they lay quietly together, slackened and exhausted -- and grinning at each other, like a couple of lustful Cheshire cats. Jim gasped for air, trying not to pass out, until finally the spots cleared from his eyes and he could speak.

"Mmmm-HM! Why on earth did we wait so long to do this, Spock?" The other didn't answer, but his smile grew, if anything, a bit wider. Jim reached up to steal a kiss, and ran his fingers through that silky black hair. It seemed that he'd been wanting to do that for years -- it was just as soft as he'd thought it would be. He kissed Spock again. "You know," he said, softly, "you're beautiful, when you smile like that, my friend. I'll have to remember to do this again."

"Jim..." Strong slender arms tightened around him, in a momentary bear hug. "I hope that you do, t'hy'la," the Vulcan murmured. "I very much hope that you do." And he slid down then, to lie beside his human, held warm in the other's embrace, and sighed, deeply contented. They stayed curled up together like that, until both men fell asleep.

-----///-----

Once more Jim awoke to the smell of a mug of coffee held under his nose. He reached for it, and had to stop and laugh, at the spectacle Spock presented. He'd combed his hair, and washed himself -- but his right eye was swollen half shut, and his face was a veritable sunset of bruises and scrapes, from yesterday's fall. The colours were oddly different -- *well of course; green blood* -- turquoise, indigo and orange, where Jim would have been black and blue, and maybe yellow. Watching the human's expression, Spock raised one eyebrow, and almost kept a straight face -- but one corner of his mouth quirked upwards, anyway. Jim got himself under control again, and took the coffee. "Mmm... smells marvelous. Thanks, Spock." He took a sip. Strong and black, perfect. He looked back up. "How do you feel?"

Spock sat back, nursing his own mug. "I am... a little stiff, this morning. It seems I encountered the maximum number of rocks, on my way into the pool. But on the whole, I am quite well."

"You were lucky."

"Indeed." He looked down into his mug for a moment. "What do you wish to do today, Jim?"

"Hm. Let me think about that. Yesterday I was thinking we should just hike back out. But let me ask you -- does your head hurt?"

"Not much. The bruises are somewhat... tender. But I do not have much of a headache, nor am I at all dizzy. I believe I have escaped without a concussion."

Relief flooded the human. "*Good*. OK. How about we camp here one extra day? Get everything dry, work the knots out of ourselves... Then tomorrow, if you're up to it, we could hike to the Cathedral Grove."

Spock nodded. That light was back in his eyes again, that insatiable Vulcan curiousity. "I would like that. There was a picture of it in the library computer, but Mr. Sulu said that it does not do it justice."

"He's right; it doesn't. OK, then, that's what we'll do." He finished his coffee and moved to get up -- and paused, briefly embarrassed. *He* was feeling distinctly... tender, this morning. It had been a while... Just the thought brought a blush to his face.

Spock was raising that eyebrow at him again. "How do *you*feel, Jim?"

Jim grinned. "Oh, a little... stiff, maybe. But very happy, Spock. Very happy."

Now the other eyebrow flew up to join its mate. "Indeed." Spock steepled his fingers together, rested his chin on them. "I believe that is an accurate statement for myself, as well."

His expression was a perfect Vulcan mask -- except for the fact that Jim had never before seen a Vulcan who looked as if he'd just lost the mother of all bar fights. He gestured toward Spock's face. "That's, ah -- that's quite a shiner you've got there, Spock. Bones is going to have a conniption fit when he sees you."

The tiniest hint of a smile, on that austere and colourful face. "Captain -- I would not dream of disappointing the good doctor. Surely he needs an occasional victory, to keep up his spirits?" A certain quality of laughter, in the deep voice, and Jim had to struggle to keep a straight face.

"God. He's going to kill us both, at this rate." Then he stretched, yawned, and crawled out of the tent. Time to get up and about. It was his turn to make breakfast, and all of a sudden he was *ravenous*.

-----///-----

By midafternoon, all their clothes and bedding were dry again. Spock retreated to the tent alone for a while, to enter a light trance and speed the healing of his rather large assortment of bruises. Neither was particularly hungry; mostly what they felt was sleepy. They ate a very light supper and turned in -- and this time they just slept. Yesterday had been very pleasant -- but it had also taken a lot out of them, by the time it was over.

At one point during the night, Spock woke briefly, to hear the coyotes singing at the moon. It was a pleasant sound, if a trifle mournful. He listened for long enough to verify that none seemed interested in themselves or their food. Then he curled up beside Jim, put his head on his human's shoulder, and promptly fell asleep again.

Jim was the first to wake up the next morning. That sure didn't happen very often. It was a smugly grinning human who crouched and waved a mug of coffee in front of a certain sleeping Vulcan, a little while later. Finally one fine-boned hand pushed the blankets apart, and that gloriously colourful face popped out and blinked at him. Spock took the mug, drank several mouthfuls, and nodded his thanks. "Did you have good dreams?" Jim asked him, smiling.

"In fact, yes," Spock replied. "I slept very well in spite of the nocturnal concert activities."

"Oh, that's right. Full moon last night, and again tonight. The coyotes were singing for you, huh?"

"Indeed so. It is fascinating; except for the lower pitch they use, they sound very much like our norsehlats do when they hunt as a pack. A pleasant sound, in either case."

Breakfast was a mixed success. Jim wanted to try Scotty's recipe for bannocks, but after burning several and dropping more in the dirt, he conceded defeat and settled for the oatmeal that Spock had started to make, once he saw how things were going.

"Scotty must have left something out of that recipe," Jim complained, as they ate.

"Possibly. However, as I recall, his recipe called for an open wood fire, and heated flat rocks as opposed to a stove top. That may be the problem..."

Afterwards they broke camp, and set out for the Cathedral Grove. They would camp near there tonight; tomorrow they had to hike back to the parking lot for beam-up. But today, and tonight, were theirs alone.

Once they'd climbed, very cautiously, back up the switchbacks, the rest of the trail was close to level. The effort of that first climb had loosened them up, and the rest of the going was relatively easy. Spock indulged himself in more botanical explorations; Jim had expected as much, and had figured it into their travel plans. Even with that, and with a long lazy break for lunch, it was still only midafternoon by the time they reached their goal.

It was beautiful indeed; even in this most beautiful of places, the Grove was something special. It was easy to see why the humans had given it that name. The trees were exceptionally tall, and wide of trunk, even among the rest of the giants in this forest. It was darker here, and a little cooler; the air was still, richly perfumed with the life of the forest. There was very little brush, because of the denser canopy overhead. Both men found themselves, without discussing it, treading softly here, and speaking in low, quiet tones. It just felt right, here, as if in a way it really was a cathedral.

Finally they laid their packs aside, in a spot where the afternoon sun was beginning to shine through the branches. They sat down at the base of one particularly broad giant, and leaned back against it, content just to soak in the warmth of the sun. Crickets and birds sang all around them, and somewhere not too far away a stream burbled happily to itself. But the only man-made sounds were their own quiet breaths. They almost fell asleep, for a while.

After a time, though, Jim turned -- and found the Vulcan was watching him, an expression of quiet wonder on his face. Jim smiled. "What are you thinking?"

The lean face grew thoughtful. "I am thinking... of what I have learned, on this trip. Of you." He gave Jim another one of those almost-smiles of his. "I was thinking that perhaps my fall was fortunate, in a way. I do not think I would say so where the good doctor could hear me, but I believe that it is true, nonetheless."

Jim had to think that one over. In the end, he found himself agreeing. But still... "Even so, we were damned lucky, Spock. You could just as easily have been killed."

"True, Jim -- but irrelevant. In fact, I was not killed, nor even seriously injured. Instead, you and I have come to a new understanding, one which I find most agreeable. If I had not fallen..." He shrugged, very slightly.

Jim smiled. "Oh, I don't know. I think we'd have figured it out eventually."

"Quite possibly. However, I must admit, I prefer our current situation."

Jim couldn't help the huge evil grin that pasted itself across his face. "Yes, well -- you *do* have a point there..." He bounced to his feet, feeling suddenly energetic. "Hey -- do you want to go and set up camp? That way we don't have to worry about it later; we can just stay here for as long as we like."

The Vulcan nodded, and rose gracefully to his feet. It seemed a sensible approach.

Their chosen campsite was perhaps ten minims' walk away; that was the closest the Park Service would permit. Spock approved of such caution; it seemed that humans had finally begun to learn from their earlier mistakes.

Jim set up the tent while Spock made supper. He kept it simple, a dish Sulu had prepared on previous landing parties -- lentils and rice and miso, with sauteed peppers and onions on top. Both men were hungry again, in the clean fresh air, and soon enough the plates and pan were empty. It was the work of but a few moments to clean up and stow things, and then they were ready. By tacit agreement, each of them grabbed a couple of blankets, and they headed back toward the grove.

The sun had gone down while Spock was cooking; now the moon was rising, huge and bloated, painting everything in eerie traceries of silver and black. Somewhere in the forest, a lone coyote gave cry, but his brothers seemed content to wait, and soon enough, he stopped.

They met no-one on the trail. In fact, on the entire trip they had passed only one group of hikers, and they'd been heading in the opposite direction. Pure luck, Jim had assured Spock; usually, at this time of year, the park was actually quite crowded.

But not tonight. Most fortunate, in Spock's opinion.

The grove, in the moonlight, seemed darker, more mysterious. As they made their way through the brush that surrounded it, Jim found himself wondering how long this grove had stood here, unchanged. A thousand years? Two thousand? It was an sobering thought. Few of these groves had been so fortunate.

In the moonlit silence, this place was even more deserving of its name. Jim spent a few moments looking around, orienting himself; then he led the way to a spot near the grove's easternmost edge. Here there was a gap in the canopy, and the light of the moon poured through, turning everything to silver. The air was still warm from the earlier heat of the sun. He spread the blankets he'd been carrying at the base of one of the giants, and settled back against that broad, flat trunk. Spock dropped his own blankets just to one side, and sat himself down next to Jim. They sat quietly for a time, enjoying the night, and one another's company, in a way they rarely seemed to have time for, aboard ship.

The moon cleared the horizon and began to climb the sky. Its light was bright enough to read by, had either desired to do so. They did not. It was enough simply to be here, with no comm signals, no one asking for their time, no interruptions...

Eventually, Jim sat up and turned to face his friend. "Spock..."

"Jim?" The black eyes were very bright tonight. Spock's face was open and unguarded, letting his feelings show, as he almost never did.

Jim reached out and took one of his hands, just to touch him. "I was thinking," he said, quietly. "Would you -- do you want to... touch my mind? I think I'd like that, very much."

Spock lowered his eyes for a moment, then looked up, just a hint of a smile on his face. "Thee are already in my mind, t'hy'la," he murmured. "But yes -- if that is what you wish, it will be my pleasure. It will take but a moment, to prepare..." He bowed his head briefly, over his folded hands. Then he reached over, very gently, and placed his fingers on the nerve points of the human's face.

Jim's eyes drifted closed, to the sound of that deep velvety voice saying the familiar words -- old words, Spock had once told him, from before the time of Surak. He took a deep breath, and felt himself relax. Each of Spock's fingertips made a little island of heat on Jim's face, while the rest of his skin felt the cooling night air.

As always, he was delighted to find that he was not alone. He felt this every time they melded, for whatever reason; that bone-deep surprise, and joy, at finding Another in his mind. Spock had told him before that many people reacted with fear to even the gentlest Touch; Jim found that hard to imagine. For him, it was wonderful. To finally *know* the answer to the question that had always plagued him -- "is this all there is? is there nothing more?" -- ahh. Yes.

Though he did not know it, a huge delighted smile now wreathed his face. <<spock?>>

<<jim? t'hy'la -- bright one...>>

Such cool and orderly thoughts, his friend had... Jim made him welcome, felt him ask, gave his answer, all without needing any words... And the barriers that kept them separate began to thin, to come apart.

To Spock, Jim's mind was Fire and sunlight, an eagle flying high in the fierce glare of the sun. And warmth; always, warmth. He warmed himself at that welcoming Fire.

To Jim, Spock's mind was Fire and moonlight, a wolf running through the forest at night. Coolness, strength -- these, above all. Standing behind him, giving him strength -- always.

Now those differences began to blur, to fade. And as they came together, it seemed different, from how it had always been before. It was deeper now, more *real*. He was jim, and he was spock... He walked alone, a boy, into the mountains; when he came down again, grieving, he was a child no more. He hid from Kodos' soldiers, kept the others together, kept them safe; when at last the rescuers came, he was a child no more. He saw StarFleet Academy, for the first time, and his fear and his excitement were one and the same. A silver lady sang in the night, calling him; he heard the call and went to her, and flew, higher and further than any bird could ever dream of. He sought always for knowledge, and she led him to it; more, and always more...

And another shared this with him, and it was good, and it was right. Together, none could stand against them. Together, they were strong. They were brothers. They were closer than brothers. They were One...

Floating, dreaming, all wrapped up together. Complete. Content. Comfortable. They were One.

Very gently, very slowly, One became two again. Very gradually, two became jim and spock again. So smooth it was. So easy. Each one opened his eyes, and saw the other, and the same smile lit both their faces. A shy and gentle smile, little more than a quirk of the lip -- but it spoke louder than any words could do.

Jim held his arms out, and Spock moved over to sit beside him, leaning against him, resting his night-dark head on his friend's shoulder.

<<spock... t'hy'la... thank you.>>

<<jim... bright one...>>

As it often did, the meld had left Jim feeling peaceful and relaxed, full of a calm sense of well-being... and something more, this time. "You're still here," he whispered, after a while. "I can feel you, in *here*..."

"As I, you," Spock replied, equally quiet. "Is it well with you?" He knew, before he asked, what the answer would be.

Jim smiled, that warm, lazy cat-smile of his. "Oh, yes," he said, in word and in thought, together. He thought for a moment, then added, quietly, "It feels as if -- as if, you were here already, but now I *notice* that you're here. Does that make any sense?"

The Vulcan nodded. "Indeed it does. I think it is a good description of what I feel, as well. It is not something new, your presence -- it is only that, it is stronger, now." He looked up, the faintest trace of anxiety a shadow on his face, in his thoughts. "Do you mind, Jim?"

"Not a bit. It feels *right*, my friend. It's like -- if you *weren't* here, *that* would be hard to take." His arm tightened for a moment, around the slender form of his friend.

"It is the same for me," Spock said, thoughtfully. "I did not know this would happen, but I find that I do not mind it at all." Something occurred to him, then, and he turned his head, to meet the other's gaze, seeing only acceptance, in the warm hazel eyes. He spoke again. "I should tell you, though... if we leave this as it is, it will grow stronger, over time. It is from such as this that the Vulcan bonding-link eventually grows, Jim. Is that what you wish?" And again, he knew what the answer would be, even before Jim spoke.

"I hadn't thought of that before -- but, yes. I think it is." He reached out to trace the line of Spock's cheek, a feather-light touch. "It's like I said, Spock -- it feels *right*, to have you in here with me. I don't think I'd want it any other way."

Satisfaction, then, in the other's thoughts, on that lean and colourful face. "Nor would I." A shiver ran through him, catching them both by surprise, and Jim blinked. The moon was high above them, now, and the air was cool, and rather damp. He reached for the other blankets, and drew them up and over them both; he slid down a little, till only his shoulders rested against the roots of the giant tree. Lying together like that, they soon grew warm once more. And they both felt it, that moment when the fire between them rekindled, from embers to open flame again. Jim turned his head, and very gently, kissed the silken black hair, the tip of one pointed ear. He drew his fingers down the other's face, and bent to meet his lips.

And it was good; it was right, between them. The new awareness only made it stronger. "You're so warm," he whispered. "It's like hugging a fire, touching you. I like it. I want to do this for a long, long time. Will you let me?"

"Jim... yes, t'hy'la..." And Spock lifted his head, and they kissed again, mouths open, tasting one another, savouring it.

They slid down a little further, till they were lying side by side, pressed together tightly, breathing each other's breath... Another shiver ran through the Vulcan, and Jim felt it in his own flesh -- but this one was of pleasure, not of cold.

Very gently, he pushed, and Spock gave way, till he was lying on his back with Jim leaning over him, kissing him, nibbling at his throat. Jim's hands were caressing his body, stroking down his belly, brushing against his sex for an instant. A gasp escaped him, and he shivered again. "oh..." he whispered, very softly.

"You like that, don't you..." And Jim did it again. "Spock -- do you trust me?"

"...yes... always, Jim..." Spock's voice was rough, husky with unaccustomed pleasure, and Jim smiled, hearing it. There had been so little of joy, for this one. So little touching, or warmth. He wanted to change that, more than he had ever wanted anything. He leaned in for another kiss, and lost himself for a moment, in the salt-sweet taste of Vulcan skin.

"Spock," he whispered. "Let me love you. Let me give you pleasure. It would please me, very much, to do that for you."

Spock had to think, before he could find the words. The things Jim's hands were doing to him were making it hard to think, much less to speak. "Jim... what of you?"

"Me? Oh, I'll enjoy it too, don't worry..." In the warmth, under the blankets, his fingers moved, undoing buttons, reaching under the Vulcan's shirt. Finding, and teasing, the small hard nipples. He bent down to take one in his mouth, to lick at it and nip it with his teeth.

"...oh..." Surprise, and pleasure, in his friend's deep voice. Jim moved on, to tease and taste the other nipple. Spock's hands drew him tight against the warm furred ribs; the Vulcan's heartbeat was a soft swift drumbeat in his side. Jim heard the softly whispered "...yes..." in his thoughts, more than in his ears. And he grinned, and applied himself to his task.

Such sensations! Such feelings -- in all of his life, before this week, Spock had never suspected that such a thing as this could be. Never missed it. Never even known that he was missing it. What they had shared the other night had been good. But this -- this was indescribable. To feel such things as this, without the spores, without drugs or time displacement -- to feel *this*, here, in his right mind... he had quite simply never imagined such a thing. That new awareness between them... So strong! So *right*.

His skin was tingling, quivering, under the knowing touch of Jim's fingers and tongue, his sharp white teeth... Fingers danced along his ribs, *almost* tickling -- and a rush of heat gathered in his belly, brought him to an aching hardness. Then the fingers were gone again, tracing the bones of his shoulders, pulling at his shirt, dipping down to tease and pinch his nipples again. He could hardly breathe, and the echo of his pleasure, in the other's thoughts, was almost too much to bear.

But only almost. He did breathe, and he moved, helping, as those fingers gently pulled his shirt from him, and reached to undo the clasp of his pants. He lifted up his hips, and felt them slide, down and away, until he lay naked in his lover's arms. For a moment, he was held in a fierce hug, and returned it with equal ferocity.

Then Jim was moving again, planting a line of kisses from his neck on down, paying special attention to his nipples, and his navel... Spock had never realized his body was so sensitive to touch, before. He could feel not only his own pleasure, but the human's, as well...

Jim smiled up at him, then turned to nuzzle further down, to lick and kiss his way to the soft black curls below. He caressed Spock's sex with his mouth, slowly, from root to tip, swirling his tongue around it, using the tiniest touches of his teeth. For a moment Spock could not breathe at all; the sensations simply overhwelmed him. And then he was engulfed in the human's mouth; Jim was licking at him, sucking on him, drawing him in as deeply as he could... A tingling, electric tension began to build inside him, and he gasped...

And Jim kissed him again, smiled, and began to nibble his way down the inside of Spock's thighs. He looked up, and the warmth in the hazel eyes was greater than that of any campfire. <<i want to make this last, t'hy'la,>> Spock heard, in his mind. <<i'm going to drive you absolutely wild -- to give you what you gave to me...>> And he bent, again, to caress and kiss the soft skin at the back of the Vulcan's knees.

<<...bright one... jim...>> Jim heard it, though the only sound his lover made was a choked little gasp, when he took him in his mouth again. He could feel what he was doing to Spock, as if it were done to himself. He smiled, satisfied, then lowered his head, to lick at the other's balls, savouring the feelings that flowed between them both, the soft sounds of pleasure Spock couldn't help but make...

One long-fingered hand brushed, very gently, at his temple, and he heard Spock, in his thoughts... <<t'hy'la?>> He lifted up his head, and met the other's dark eyes.

<<yes? what is it, spock? whatever you want -- the answer is yes...>> And an image came to him, then, Spock's way of asking what he could not find the words for, yet -- an image of himself, curled on his side, with Jim curled behind him, inside him, arms wrapped around him.

And one word. <<please...>> A flash of heat raced through Jim's body. He *wanted* that, wanted to please this man. But he knew, without asking, that unlike him, the Vulcan had never done this before. *he'll be tight; i might hurt him...* And then he smiled again, as an answer to the problem came to him.

<<whatever you want, spock -- that's what i said, and i meant it. it will just be a moment...>> And he took that jade-bronze hardness in his mouth again, and with lips, and teeth, and tongue, and all the skill his years of loving had given him, he brought the Vulcan to a gasping, shuddering climax. But instead of swallowing, he took the other's seed and spread it on himself. He worked one slick, wet finger into that hot, tight opening, very gently, taking his time.

The black eyes were slitted closed; Spock was trembling, all over, lost in the sensations Jim was creating in him. The human smiled, and carefully worked a second finger in, massaging, stretching, where the other was so tight. A shudder ran through them both, as he found what he'd been looking for, that small solid spot, right *there*. He stroked it, gently, and felt Spock stiffen in his arms.

<<...oh...>> A third finger followed the first two, and finally Jim felt the tight muscles relax, begin to stretch, to loosen up.

<<now, you're ready, i think... i'll be very careful>> God, he wanted this; he wanted it as much as he'd ever wanted anything. The Vulcan turned, then, on his side, and snuggled back against Jim. A hot blush of green spread over his neck and his ears, and Jim leaned forward to plant a kiss behind one ear. He let his fingers slide out of that wonderful tightness, and gently guided the tip of his cock between the warm furred cheeks. He eased himself inside, just a little, and stopped, letting the other get used to this new sensation. He wrapped his arms around him, feeling more happy than he could ever remember being. After a little while, Spock pushed back against him, and he felt himself slide deeper. *god, he's tight -- and *hot* inside... oh, yes*

Very gently, he began to move his hips, just a little at first, then a bit more. He took the Vulcan's cock in his hands, stroking it, rubbing the slick drops of leaking moisture over it with his thumb. Spock moaned, very softly, and Vulcan muscles clenched tightly for a moment. God -- it felt *so good*... It took Jim's breath away.

He moved a little faster now, stroking the other's cock in time with his own strokes. He took his time, letting it build, between them, that tingling sense of pressure, delicious anticipation of what was to come. Spock was panting, his head thrown back, resting on Jim's shoulder; Jim turned his head to kiss his lover's neck. So good, he tasted; so good, he felt, hot and tight around him... Oh, yes.

The familiar pleasant ache, starting in his balls, filling him ever fuller... *so good* And suddenly Jim knew what he wanted -- no, what he needed. He reached for the other's face. "T'hy'la," he whispered, into one pointed, green-flushed ear, "join us, please... Touch my thoughts, again..."

He felt, rather than saw, Spock's answering smile. <<of course...>> And he felt it, then --

Spock no longer needed to touch his face, or say the words. They just *were* together, two-in-One, touching and touched, filling and filled. The pleasure they felt echoed through the link between them; doubled, redoubled... He couldn't breathe; he was burning, lost in the Fire that filled his body, filled his mind... And he lost the flesh. Lost the sounds, lost any awareness of who he might be; lost everything but that Fire, and that bright, hot light, growing ever hotter and brighter and stronger -- until at last he fell into it, was consumed by it, burned up utterly, to ash and gone...

The moon was quite a ways past the zenith, and the coyotes were singing their mournful song, when two pairs of eyes finally flickered open, in a warm nest of blankets, under the shadow of a giant tree. Two forms, one lean, one more compact, turned and hugged each other. Two faces smiled, one smile.

Jim couldn't help it, then -- an enormous yawn forced its way out of him. He felt like he could sleep forever -- but the tree roots were poking him, bits of cold air kept sneaking under the blankets -- and his teeth were starting to float. When he felt Spock begin to shiver, he was convinced. He brushed his lips against the other's cheek, careful of the still-bruised skin. "Hey," he said, very quietly, knowing that Spock could hear him, "let's go back to the tent and get warm, maybe get some sleep. Okay?"

He could feel the Vulcan nod. "A wise choice, t'hy'la. It is getting *cold*, out here." And he shivered again.

"Here," Jim murmured, handing over all but one of the blankets. "Wrap yourself up in these, Spock. I'll grab the rest of this and meet you there, in a minim or two. Got something I have to take care of, first."

Spock agreed, and headed back toward camp, muffled from head to toe in blankets. Jim took care of the necessities, then rummaged around till he found all their discarded clothing. Then, clutching his own blanket tightly, he left the grove -- but not before he looked up at the moon, and shared a grin and a conspiratorial wink with her.

He dropped their clothes just inside the door of the tent and sealed it up. Spock already had the heater going, and it was rapidly getting warmer. Jim burrowed happily into the warm pile of blankets, looking for Spock. They fell asleep curled up together, dark head and light side by side, on one pillow.

-----///-----

McCoy's reaction to the sight of Spock's face was about what they'd expected. He hadn't been able to get much mileage out of it, though -- scans showed no permanent damage had been done, and both mens' stress levels were significantly lower.

Anything else he may or may not have seen, he kept to himself. Leonard McCoy was first, last, and foremost a Southern gentleman, and there are some subjects upon which a gentleman does not speculate. He just grinned, got out his anabolic protoplaser, and got to work.

When the Vulcan knocked on Jim's door later that evening, he was his normal olive-skinned, imperturbable self.

At least, he was until the door swished shut behind him. Only then did he allow the corners of his mouth to quirk upwards, just the tiniest bit. An impish twinkle shone in the black eyes.

Jim stood back for a minim, hands on his hips, head cocked. "Well," he drawled. "Bones does nice work. Guess I'll have to keep you, now, won't I?" He laughed. "I can just see it now -- hey Mom, he followed me home, can I keep him?" And he laughed again. Spock just raised an eyebrow. He didn't really understand -- but then, he was often puzzled by human notions of what constituted humour. In any case, it wasn't important. He could feel, over the deeper link they shared now, how Jim really felt.

So instead of trying to answer the inscrutable, he merely smiled, and reached for his human. This was what mattered, not telling jokes.

And Jim agreed, for he soon quit laughing and returned the embrace. He tucked his head against the Vulcan's neck and drew in a breath, savouring his warm, faintly spicy scent. "Ahhh..." he purred. "*That's* what I've been missing, this afternoon. *Much* better."

He looked up into the wide black eyes. "Stay with me tonight?" he asked.

"Always, t'hy'la. Always."