"Whoa -- the cabin boy, the cabin boy, the filthy little nipper He packed his arse with broken glass and circumcised the skipper... Whoa -- friggin' in the rigging, friggin' in the rigging, friggin' in the rigging There was fuck-all else to do!!"

With a loud shout of "Heave, HO!" the first watch deck gang hauled one last time on the sheets and brought the boat around, the helmsman spinning the wheel, the boat heading now closer to the wind. The Camelot, having, as befits a research vessel, the latest modern equipment, could have relied on her inboards instead -- but Cap'n Nan preferred to sail the beautiful old wooden ship the old-fashioned way whenever possible.

Spock had been holed up in the lab all day, immersed in the team's most recent recordings, lost in the oddly surreal worldview of cetacean dreamsongs, in the effort of translation from that mindset to hominid values, and back again. He was a valued member of this team, and his work was most helpful to his colleagues, for unlike the human members of the team, Spock could hear the full range of frequencies in the songs. It was difficult but rewarding work, deeply satisfying -- a pleasant and useful way to spend this leave. He came above-decks just in time to hear the crew shout out what was obviously the last verse of a longer song. Eyebrows shooting upwards, he stared until he spotted a certain grinning fair-haired human leading the rousing chorus.

Hardly proper decorum for a crew of scientists, in Spock's opinion. But very much in character for Jim. One corner of Spock's mouth quirked as he considered what his own response should be to such a provocation. Given that Jim's assigned -- and cheerfully accepted -- role on this particular voyage was that of Spock's cabin boy... hmm. A slow warmth coiled in the pit of the Vulcan's belly, as he thought about that.

Yes. Discipline thus far had been distinctly lax. Something obviously would have to be done. This was a most serious matter indeed. One requiring his *personal* attention.

His reverie was interrupted by his mate's arrival, still grinning and slightly out of breath. "Hi! Come out of your lair in the lab for a while, hm?" Jim said.

"Yes." Trying to look serious, but all too aware of how his own eyes must be sparkling, Spock continued. "*Really,* Jim. Such behaviour is most unseemly."

The grin grew even wider. "Hm, yeah -- I guess it is, huh. Shocking lapse in discipline, if you ask me." The hazel eyes were very bright, and with his cheeks flushed from the wind and the sun, Jim was a tempting sight indeed, and all too obviously aware of it.

"Indeed." Spock favoured the shorter man with his best attempt at a glare. "I believe it is time for you to attend to our cabin, James. That is, if your duties here are finished?"

"Oh yeah, we're all done here for now. OK then -- see you below!" But the smile, as his human walked away, was as wide as ever, and Spock did not miss the subtle exaggeration of Jim's walk, showing off what was definitely, in Spock's studied, sober, scientific opinion, by far the nicest ass on the entire ship.

It was more difficult than he had expected to wait for an hour before he headed below. But he had to allow time for Jim to carry out his orders. Finally it was time, and Spock walked back down below-decks. He walked into their cabin, locked the door behind him, and hastened into the sleeping area, to find that the bed had not been made, their laundry had not been done -- and Jim was lounging in the middle of the bed, scanning a filthy Deltan picture-tape and *eating cookies.* Not just any old cookies, either -- *crumbly* ones. The human winked broadly at him before ostentatiously returning to his reading.

Spock put his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. "James," he said, trying to keep his voice stern and his face from smiling, "you have not attended to your duties."

Jim grinned up at him and wriggled. Glanced around, grinned even wider. "Hm. Nope, yer right. Uh, sir. I haven't." He languidly munched another cookie.

"You realize that I shall have to correct this disgraceful lapse of discipline."

"Yep -- if you can. I don't know, though, Spock. Might take some doing."

The Vulcan looked up as he pulled off his second boot. "It will not be difficult." He laid his jacket aside and advanced on his mate. Jim pushed the viewer and the plate of cookies off the bed and waited. He was wearing tight white stretch pants that left nothing to the imagination and a flowing white silk shirt, unbuttoned to the waist. He looked good enough to eat, were Spock so inclined. He was freshly washed, and the sweet smell of coconut oil filled the air.

Spock pounced, and there ensued a most enjoyable wrestling match, with lots of gratuitous pinching and tickling and groping of buns and crotches. Finally he ended up straddling Jim's hips, holding the laughing, gasping human down with his wrists pinned beside his head. Spock moved, and felt his own hardness brush against his mate's. Both men gasped.

"Do you submit?" Spock growled.

"Hell, no," Kirk smirked up at him. "Yer gonna have to make me, Spock." And he bucked, and they were at it again. This time, when the action ceased, Jim was on his belly with Spock resting on top of him, between his thighs. Spock quickly found that the feeling of Jim's tight round buns pressed against his cock was more than a little distracting.

He cleared his throat again. "Very well. Since you persist in your defiance, my dear cabin boy, I shall have to administer the proper discipline." Keeping both of Kirk's hands immobile with just one of his own, he reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out two soft lengths of rope. Quickly he had one of Kirk's hands lashed to each of the headposts of the bed. He waved a roll of duct tape meaningfully under the human's startled gaze, before setting it down atop the table. Now Spock permitted the corners of his own mouth to quirk upward, just a little. "I will use that if need be. Something to keep in mind." Jim nodded with all due solemnity.

Spock settled his t'hy'la's head more comfortably on a pillow, spared a caress for his t'hy'la's ass, and stood back. It was definitely an aesthetically pleasing ass. Kirk wriggled, took a deep breath, looked surprised at how strongly he was held. "Yes," Spock said. "That will do quite nicely, to begin." He reached up around Jim's waist, unfastened the human's pants, and peeled them off him. Hm. No underwear -- how convenient.

He fetched more pillows, set them aside for later. Then he ordered Jim to come to his knees and assume the position. Jim did so, thereby presenting Spock with a most delightful view of his shapely bare ass. Both men were beginning to breathe a little faster.

Spock reached into the drawer again and withdrew a black, leather-covered paddle, a short-handled multi-tailed slappy whip, and a jar of coconut oil. All of these items he solemnly placed upon the bedside table. He stood back and looked from one to the other, and looked at Jim's ass some more, considering. Choices, always choices... But in the end, he chose to use his bare hand. This was all about teaching proper respect for Tradition, after all.

"You have behaved badly, James."

"Yes, sir. I have, sir." Jim's eyes were twinkling merrily and his face was quite pleasingly flushed. Spock regarded him critically.

"Very well. You will count, and you will thank me for this discipline, will you not?"

"Ooh... *yes*, sir!" Once more the tastiest ass in the Fleet was wiggled enticingly. Then Jim straightened his back, putting himself into the formal position. Spock lifted his hand, waited a moment, then delivered a resounding smack to the quivering cheek below.

Jim gasped, then cried out, "One, sir. Thank you, sir!"

Again, on the opposite cheek. "Two, sir. Thank you, sir!" Ah, yes. Quite a pleasing effect -- the large pink handprints, symmetrically placed. Again he struck, and this time the air whistled as Spock's hand moved.

"Oh! Three, sir. Thank you, sir!" Another one, also fast enough to whistle.

"Ohh! Four, sir. Thank you, sir!"

The Vulcan walked away, came back. Struck suddenly, with an extra little snap of the wrist.

"Five, sir! *Thank you,* sir!" This next blow, too, had an extra little something.

"Oho! Six, sir... *thank* you, sir!"

At six, Spock paused, contemplating the results of his efforts thus far. Both Jim's cheeks were a lovely shade of red. The human's eyes were bright, his lips were flushed and swollen, his pupils dilated; he was breathing heavily, and his cock was quivering up against his belly, ramrod straight and hard as a rock.

"Mmmm," purred the Vulcan. "That looks most... delectable. Four more, I think. Hold youself up, James. Continue to count, and to thank me." Kirk just nodded, still trying to catch his breath. But his eyes were sparkling.

Smack! "Seven, sir. Thank you, sir!"

Smack! "Eight, sir. Thank you, sir!"

Whap! "Oh! Nine, sir. Thank you, sir!"

*Whap!* "O-*ho!* *Ten*, sir! *Thank you,* sir!" Jim's legs were quivering, now, but he held himself in place, resisting the urge to throw himself down and thrust into the bedding.

Spock ran an appreciative hand up the inside of one trembling human thigh. "You have done well thus far, James. But there is more to come." He reached down and rearranged the ties, so that both wrists were bound to the same post, and helped Jim to settle on his side. Then he stepped back, and under the glowing hazel gaze of his desperately hungry mate, he slowly and languidly took off his clothes, caressing himself as he did so. Finished, he stood naked beside the bed, his cock standing proudly, the tip glistening and moist...

"Mmm..." Jim licked his lips and stared. "May I?"

"Yes." Spock knelt on the bed, then carefully lowered himself until the tip of his cock bobbed in front of Kirk's face. "Suck me," he commanded, his voice low and husky. Jim strained his neck to reach, twining his tongue about the head, licking along and between the ridges, dipping the tip of his tongue into the eager wet slit. Spock gasped, fought to hold himself still. Then Jim opened his mouth wider, drew Spock in, and began to suck with enthusiasm.

Spock moaned, threw his head back and allowed his hips to rock in time with the motions of Jim's head. *Ah; so good...* His cock was growing ever harder; quivers and sparkles of delight went shooting up his spine, then back down to center in his groin. Heat built steadily between his legs. Finally he pulled back. "Stop... enough." He caught his breath, while Kirk moaned and thrust his own hips. Both had to struggle for control; neither was entirely successful.

Spock moved the ties again, got Jim settled as he wanted him. Now Kirk lay on his back, wrists spread wide and tied above his head, his ass raised invitingly on a stack of pillows. "Spread your legs," Spock ordered, and he did. "Now. Watch me." Spock took a handful of the coconut oil and smoothed it on his own all too eager flesh, squeezing and caressing his cock, lifting and stroking his balls. Then he leaned forward and rubbed some more of it on Jim's ass, stroking it behind his balls and between his cheeks, finally pushing a well-oiled finger into the hungry waiting hole and circling, sliding it in and out, gently rubbing...

"Ohhhh..." A long, drawn-out moan. "Ohh, Spock -- oh, *please*..."

Spock leaned back, then moved forward again, this time guiding the tip of his cock to where it so desperately wanted to go. He arched his back and moaned as the head popped through. Then in one smooth leisurely stroke he pushed himself almost all the way in. When he stopped, his fur was tickling Jim's ass, and Jim's balls were nestled against his belly. Jim groaned, and Spock felt himself squeezed tightly not once, but twice. He bucked his hips back and forth a couple of times, finding Jim open and eager, the lubrication more than sufficient.

Then he took Jim's ass, still delightfully warm and pink, in his hands, lifted his human up, and began to thrust in earnest -- long deep strokes, with a snap of his hips at the moment of deepest penetration. His cock flared, the ridges swelling, a sensation of unspeakable delight. Jim was eagerly meeting his thrusts, now, clenching his muscles, driving himself onto his lover's cock, gasping with effort. The human's rock-hard erection slapped against his belly as Spock slammed into him, over and over. *Ahh, so hot. So -good-*

Faster they moved, and faster; now Spock began to sway from side to side as well, knowing how that stimulated his human, feeling it in his own nerves every time his cock stroked the sensitive gland within. A wonderful electric tension was growing within them both; Spock's balls were churning, drawing up tight in readiness... One thought was clear, in two minds: *Oh, -soon-...* Kirk's hands were clasped tightly about the ropes; the tendons in his neck and arms strained with effort. His head was thrown back. He shuddered with the force of the pounding Spock was giving him, loudly wailing his delight as that wonderful hot hardness filled him again and again...

Finally Spock took pity on his mate, reached up, grasped his neglected cock in two hot Vulcan hands, and began to stroke and pump it in time with his thrusts. Both of them were moaning now; Spock's eyes were squeezed shut, his hair in wild disarray, his head arched far back as he drove himself ever deeper into the human's hungry body. Once... twice... thrice -- and he cried out as the orgasm took him, his hot come gushing into the depths of Jim's ass. Once more his hands pumped, then Jim, too, stiffened and thrashed, his cock jerking wildly in Spock's grasp, come splattering them both.

Slowly both grew still, as the last of their seed left them, the last little waves of pleasure rippled through their nerves.

"Ahh..." Spock collapsed, felt himself begin to soften. His heavy weight was sprawled inelegantly across the shuddering, gasping human. They lay like that for a while, gasping for air, savouring the warm, melted, lethargic aftermath of a truly great fuck. Finally Jim made a muffled protest and Spock pulled out, lifting himself just long enough to release the ties and settle them side by side among the pillows.

"Mmm," Jim purred in his ear. "Fuck-a-doodle-doo, that was *fantastic,* lover!"

"Mm. Indeed," Spock's voice was rough with sleep.

Jim snuggled in closer, so Spock's head was tucked against his chest. "Smug Vulcan."

"Of course." The deep voice was even softer and more sleepy.

"Don't ever change, okay? I love it when you give me hell."

"Mm..." followed by what sounded suspiciously like a snore. Jim sighed happily, wriggled until he found a position that his still-tender ass could tolerate, and settled himself for sleep. Now *that*, by god, was proper discipline; StarFleet's, and the Navy's before it, oldest and best-loved tradition. And that was why.