THAT OF WHICH WE DO NOT SPEAK

Ah! What is not a dream by day?
To him whose eyes are cast.
On things around him, with a ray
Turned back upon the past.
Extract from the poem "A Dream" - by Edgar Allan Poe.

~<§][§>~ ~<§][§>~ ~<§][§>~

Tonight would be his first meeting with Spock in over five years, and Jim Kirk felt as though he might do something terribly foolish. He had not seen the Vulcan since the second five-year mission was launched, and he was more worried about this meeting than he'd been about any life-threatening mission. He suddenly wished he hadn't come up with the idea to dine alone together like this, but when he had invited Spock, his former first officer had warmed to the idea with as much dignified enthusiasm as his Vulcan heritage would allow.

Jim cast a glance at the chronometer on the oven. His hands were trembling so violently that he had to set the pot he was holding down on the stove. He swallowed. This was ridiculous! He had to calm himself because Spock would show up in a few minutes. He knew the Vulcan. Spock wouldn't be late.

He wasn't quite finished preparing the meal, but that felt like something of a relief. Maybe it would give him some time to get used to having Spock around again? He sighed. There had been a time when he wouldn't have given a second thought to a simple dinner with Spock. They'd once been so comfortable around each other. When had that changed? And why?

The answer came to him easily. The change happened after V'ger, when Spock had grabbed his hand in Sickbay and said: "This simple feeling is beyond V'ger's comprehension." Kirk had then realized that he had to tell Spock his true feelings, or part ways. He couldn't bear to keep the truth hidden any longer, not when Spock had finally come back to him.

I've got to put this behind me, get it over with, Jim thought and leaned over the sink, his knuckles turning white as he grasped the edge. I just have to, or I have to let go.

Shortly after V'ger, he had left for the Enterprise's second five-year mission. Spock had declined the offered position as his first officer. They hadn't talked about V'ger or anything that had happened then. He never got the chance--the Vulcan had taken the choice away from him by deciding to stay behind. He truly wanted to know why Spock had made that choice, but he was still afraid to ask. Therein lay the reason for his tension. He was afraid of the answer. However--knowing the reason didn't take away his fears.

The door chimed, and Jim sighed, straightening his back, and moved toward it. Waiting wasn't his forte, and now he would finally face Spock for the first time in years. There would be no more time for hesitation or fears.

"Come in!"

Jim couldn't stop the warmth that spread through him as his friend entered. The Vulcan was as tall and correct as always, but what a welcome sight. Just having Spock there filled hollows inside Jim that he had forgotten were there. Looking at Spock for the first time in so many years was ... he didn't have words to say how good that felt. It was as though a piece of him that was missing had finally been put back into place. That realization scared Jim to death. He thought he'd been able to put his need, and that dependence behind him. Just setting eyes on his friend again told him how wrong he had been.

"Spock," he said softly.

"Jim." Spock's rich voice added to the subtle satisfaction shining from the dark eyes. Jim had to fight to keep the smile in place. It was evident that he wasn't the only one who had missed their friendship. He swallowed hard. Spock reached out with his hand.

Fighting the tremors running through him, Jim took it. Even though he understood Vulcan customs, he couldn't help it. He just wanted to touch Spock. No, he realized, that was wrong. He needed to touch Spock--to shake his hand, to feel that his friend was truly there, for real.

With an almost imperceptible quirk of his lips, Spock took Jim's outstretched hand between both of his. Jim reveled in Vulcan warmth for a brief moment, then found himself clasped tightly to the slender Vulcan. Instinctively, he stiffened. It was a shock to feel Spock so close to him and the jolt of fear that flooded him was equally unexpected.

Why was Spock hugging him? During their many years of friendship, that had happened only a few times. It had usually occurred when Jim had been seriously injured. He forced himself to relax into Spock's arms. This was a friendly hug and he couldn't let Spock sense his unease or the intense need that took even him by surprise. Jim felt the strong arms go around his back in a tight embrace, and he returned it, clapping Spock's back in a brotherly gesture, fighting to keep the moment casual.

It was too soon for anything else. Spock had just arrived. If he realized how Jim truly felt, he might leave. Moments later, they drew apart, and gazed at each other. Jim felt relieved to be set free from the troubling closeness, even as he longed to hold on to Spock and never let go.

"I have missed you, my friend," he said. His voice wasn't quite steady.

"And I, you," Spock admitted with a small half-smile.

That smile was like a blow to the solar plexus. He'd forgotten how a small smile could transform Spock's face. From the forbidding, austere coldness of a perfect Vulcan, to the warmth and acceptance of the best friend he'd ever had. Jim closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of this man he'd known for the better part of his adult life. Spock had once known him better than anyone else ever had, had been closer to him than a brother. Had they both changed a lot during the years they'd been apart?

"I'm not quite finished with dinner. Why don't you take a look around the apartment? It doesn't exactly feel like home, yet, but I'll get there."

Jim fervently wished that Spock would leave him alone for just a minute or two. He had learned through the years to copy the Vulcan's iron control, but this night he was truly afraid that it would crumble.

"Thank you." Spock replied with a long glance, but without further discussion he turned and left Jim alone in the kitchen.

Jim sighed and tried to relax. This first meeting hadn't gone as he'd expected. He had felt good, and it had been like coming home, as though he'd finally found that missing piece of himself that he'd been lacking for years. It was a frightening thought. He felt happy, nervous and whole--all at the same time. The unexpected half-smile from his former first officer told him that whatever else happened, they were still friends. No matter how unsatisfying their brief conversations over subspace had been, that was still true.

Spock moved around in Jim's apartment, taking in the surroundings in his usual calm, mildly curious manner. Jim's heart ached at the familiarity of the scene and he watched for a moment, letting his eyes roam the slender shape and the dignified posture, which had been so sorely missed, and he hoped that it wasn't the last time Spock would feel so at ease in his company.

~>)O(<~

As expected, Jim's new apartment was rather barren, almost Spartan, and Spock found himself wondering what Jim's home would look like once he'd had time to put some personality into it. Remembering the captain's cabin on the Enterprise, he realized that the only personal things Jim had ever surrounded himself with were books. Many antique volumes of old Earth classics, but also books from several worlds they had visited. Jim even owned some Vulcan literature, and he had always preferred bound books to those downloaded from the computer into a datapadd.

"I like to feel the book, touch it. Leafing through the pages as you read gives a whole new dimension to the experience."

However illogical, Spock had agreed. Of course he had never admitted aloud that he felt the same way.

Spock halted in his musings. He glanced into the kitchen where Jim was still busy preparing dinner. For some reason, his former captain seemed to wish to be alone while finishing, so Spock was content to peruse the books on the shelf. He had indeed missed his friend, but it was early and he knew they would have all the time they required to catch up. Perhaps they would even play chess.

Sliding his slender fingers lightly along the backs of the ancient leather-bound volumes, Spock read the titles. He found The Songs of Surak and felt strangely grateful for it. He knew it was illogical to react that way, but it made him feel as though there was a connection between him and Jim, even when they were apart.

Spock kept things in his environment that reminded of Jim as well. The antique Terran chessgame was among his most cherished possessions; he also treasured his leather-bound volumes of Shakespeare. He and Jim had always shared an interest in history and books.

Pulling out The Songs of Surak, Spock began leafing through the pages, noticing an interesting phrase here and there. These words of wisdom had always meant much;. He had given this book to Jim on the first birthday celebration they had shared on the Enterprise, with the hopes that the book would help Jim to understand him better. Spock was Vulcan, and being Vulcan was difficult in the midst of so many emotional humans. It seemed that Jim had understood, because he never questioned the way Spock was, never treated him differently, and Jim always respected Vulcan customs.

He put The Songs of Surak back. He pulled the next book from the shelf and his heart leapt in his side. It was High Vulcan Poetry. Jim owned this book? This particular book, a very old volume of poetry from before the Reformation was not easily found off world; even on Vulcan it would not be easily obtained. Spock turned it over carefully, curious as to how Jim had been able to purchase such a valuable prize. It was a large book, heavy and bound in dark-brown embroidered fabric. The volume was in very good condition and most definitely valuable, and he wondered why Jim had never shown it to him before.

The text on the cover was gold-engraved High Vulcan. He wondered if Jim could understand it. Opening the first page, he read the poetry, which was indeed written in the oldest language of his people. Some of the poems were pages long, and some only a paragraph or two.

Along the upper edge of the book something was sticking out--a bookmark perhaps?. Curiously, Spock opened to that page. Was this one of Jim's favorite poems? He started reading the beautiful script.

Spock stopped reading. There was more, of course, but he knew this poem. His eyebrow lifted of its own volition. This was a poem that Jim enjoyed? It spoke of T'hy'la, before the time of Surak. Bonding between two warriors was common then. They had joined to survive pon farr, when parted from their families or their betrothed. Did Jim realize that this poem spoke of two male Vulcans who shared the Life-bond?

It was more likely that Jim simply did not know High Vulcan, and had put the envelope there randomly. Suddenly the envelope began sliding from the book and Spock wasn't quick enough to catch it before it fell to the floor facing upward. Spock blinked at saw the familiar strong, straggling handwriting on the front.

Spock, it said. Nothing else.

He picked the envelope up from the floor, turning it over curiously. It was quite evident that Jim had not meant for him to find this, and yet... the envelope was addressed to him. What could that mean? Fighting with his inherent honesty, Spock turned it over again, looking at his name. He should not read it. It would not be right. He returned the envelope to the book. Putting the book on the living-room table, he rose to his feet.

"Jim?"

He peered into the kitchen. Jim was still standing by the stove. He started when Spock entered. Spock frowned and eyed his friend with concern. Something was troubling Jim, but from experience, Spock knew that asking now would not help. When he had been the first officer of the Enterprise, he might have forced the issue, fighting Jim's inherent stubbornness, but not anymore. Yet he could not help wondering. He hoped that Jim still considered him enough of a friend to ask for help if it was needed.

"Don't worry. I'm almost done." Jim said. "Another ten minutes and then we can sit down to eat."

"Very well, but that was not what I wanted."

"Really? Then what?"

"Do you speak High Vulcan, Jim?"

Jim turned and looked at him with a frown on his face.

"Yeah, I learned it over the last five years. Didn't I tell you?"

"No."

"Oh, I thought I did. It was a...hobby. Since you neglected to join that second five-year mission, I didn't have anyone to play chess with." Jim flashed one of his patented grins, but to Spock it didn't seem quite sincere.

"I am terribly sorry, Jim. Of course, I should have joined you. I did not think that it would deprive you of your chess."

"Ah, come on, Spock. I was only joking."

"As was I," Spock replied and left Jim standing in the kitchen with a puzzled expression on his face.

So, Jim could read the poem and understand its meaning. Spock went back to the couch and the book and closed it, putting it back into the shelf. He was not going to read the letter. If Jim wanted him to, Jim would give it to him. Still, Spock couldn't help feeling disappointed at the fact that he probably would never find out what Jim had written. His curiosity had been aroused. Why had Jim put the letter next to that particular poem? Why had he written a letter he didn't intend for Spock to read?

"Dinner's ready," Jim said.

Forcing himself to focus on his friend and their meal, Spock moved into the kitchen and sat.

"It smells good, Jim," Spock complimented and eyed the lasagna appreciatively.

"It's one of the few vegetarian dishes I still remember how to cook."

"I take it you haven't had time to pursue your skills as a chef on the Enterprise," Spock chided.

Jim looked at him and grinned impishly. "Nope, and Bones won't let me cook whatever I like either. He claims that too much red meat, cream and cheese aren't good for me."

"I am quite certain that Leonard is correct, Jim."

Jim leaned back in his chair and patted his flat stomach. "I'll have you know that I haven't been in such good shape since the V'ger incident!"

"I surmise that Leonard succeeded in his endeavor."

"Why, Mr. Spock. Are you paying me a compliment?"

Spock watched Jim closely as he ate, trying to make sense of his behavior. Jim was making jokes and tried to appear his normal easygoing self, but it seemed forced and underneath their quite familiar banter lay a tension that wasn't easy to dismiss. Not for someone who had known and cared for Jim for as long as Spock had.

"Compliments are illogical, Jim. I am merely stating a fact."

Jim looked at him with a curious expression. Spock looked away, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under his friend's scrutiny.

"This meal was quite delicious, Jim," he said and with more precision than absolutely necessary he laid the cutlery down on his plate. "May I offer assistance with the dishes?"

"Nah, I'll take care of that in the morning. Go have a seat in the living room. I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm just going to get some coffee and a drink. Would you like a brandy?"

"Yes, thank you. I believe that I would," Spock said, and felt a twinge of amusement when he saw the look of surprise on Jim's face. He lifted an eyebrow in a small challenge. Jim shrugged.

"Okay, make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

Spock was drawn to the bookshelf again. As if of their own volition, his hands moved to the book of Vulcan poetry, resting lightly against its spine, hesitating. He always had considered himself an honest individual. He did not have it in him to lie or be deceitful. Not where Jim was concerned anyway. He'd always prided himself as trustworthy, loyal and a friend and colleague that Jim could always depend on.

But it seemed that he did have some streak of deception within himself, because his hands moved to pull the book out of the shelf again. Moments later he was holding the envelope in his hand, his fingers caressing the textured, off-white surface. Jim had left the letter in a book he surely knew that Spock wouldn't be able to resist looking at. If Jim had truly not wanted him to see the letter...

Spock knew his arguments were flawed, and yet he couldn't resist. Swiftly, before he had time to change his mind, he pulled out the two sheets of paper that lay within, and started reading....

Am I getting too old for this? I'm beginning to sound like my uncle. He always spoke of the 'good old days', but dammit - I miss our chess games, I miss our missions together - but most of all, Spock, I miss you. Hell, Bones does too, even if he'd never admit it aloud. The ship is empty without you and....

Space is still where I belong, but until this five-year mission, I never knew how much I depended on you, trusted you. I still wish you had accepted this second one, Spock. Why didn't you? You never told me."

Why, indeed?

I love you, Spock."

Spock couldn't stifle a gasp. It felt as though the Universe had suddenly tilted on its axis.--I love you--such innocent words and yet so jarring.

Am I shocking you?"

Spock stopped reading and glanced toward the entrance to the living room. Indeed, he had not expected such revelations from Jim.

Jim"

When Spock lifted his eyes from the paper, he saw Jim standing at the entrance to the living room with two glasses and a bottle of brandy in his hands. The human's face was even paler now, his eyes haunted. The tension that had been there all evening had intensified tenfold.

Spock was quite sure the look on Jim's face mirrored his own. Surprise--maybe even shock, and a certain amount of grief and apprehension.

~>)O(<~

He knows. My God, he knows. Why didn't I throw that letter away long ago?

Jim felt nauseated. He'd never expected Spock to read those words, and he didn't really know why he had saved the letter. He swallowed. Oh, he did know why. He had kept it because as long as he kept those sheets of paper where he'd said it all, it felt as if he had confided in someone, as if he didn't have to hide his feelings from everyone around him. Writing down the truth had made him feel as though he weren't such a coward. He knew he was rationalizing, but as long as he still had the letter, he could always tell himself that he'd meant to send it--someday.

Spock's face was unreadable. He stood there, slim and unforgiving, by the bookshelf, with the papers still in his hand. As the seconds ticked by, and he met the dark gaze, Jim realized that the Vulcan had indeed read the words.

The bottle of brandy and the glasses slid from his grasp without his consciously noticing until he heard the crash of glass against the wooden floor. Not until he could feel brandy splash his feet did he react. He barely noticed how the socks absorbed the sticky fluid. He wanted to run, but instead, he automatically sank to his knees, and began picking aimlessly at the larger shards of glass. He swallowed convulsively, trying to remain calm.

"Jim, are you hurt?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't answer.

Spock reached him in a few long strides, and the thought of Spock touching him right now, the thought of those warm hands trying to determine if he had cut himself scared him to death.

"I'm fine," he rasped, and his curt tone told Spock clearly--don't touch me.

The Vulcan crouched beside him and began helping him pick up the broken glass from the floor. They were both silent. Then Spock's hand reached for the same piece of glass, brushing against Jim's. Jim couldn't stifle a gasp. The light touch sent an electrical current between them. Jim's nerves were too close to the surface to stand it. He jerked away, dropping the pieces of glass he had gathered and stumbled to his feet. He turned to flee.

"Jim, wait...."

"Jim!"

Suddenly a hand fell upon his shoulder, forcibly turning him around. Jim closed his eyes, not wanting to see the distance there. Spock could be so cold, so untouchable. Jim remembered that day when Spock had entered the bridge, when he returned from Gol and the Kolinahr. He remembered the happiness he had felt at seeing his friend, the love that had washed over him like sunlight, but he also remembered the intensity of his pain when the almost-black eyes met his gaze with not the slightest recognition, fondness or love in them. He couldn't bear that--not now--not ever again.

"Please, Spock."

He didn't quite know what he was pleading for, and he hated the weakness in his own voice. Was this the proud Captain James Tiberius Kirk, the youngest admiral in the 'fleet, decorated and honored uncounted times? It was pitiful.

Couldn't Spock see that he didn't want to talk about this?

Jim wished he'd never seen the Vulcan stand there, having read every word, having seen the poem. The poem that always reminded Jim of them--or what he wished they would be. If he hadn't seen Spock holding the letter, and the look on his face, they could have pretended that the words had never been written, or that Spock had ever read them. They could go on as they always had, as friends, as colleagues.

"Jim. Look at me." The voice was demanding and a strong hand pushed Jim's chin up determinedly. Jim kept his eyes closed.

Coward.

"I can't. Please, Spock, just leave me alone."

"I read your letter."

What could he say to that? Spock did have a propensity for stating the obvious. If Jim hadn't felt so bad, he would have laughed.

"I read the poem."

Spock's voice was unreadable, and Jim still couldn't get himself to open his eyes.

Coward!

The word taunted him. What did Spock want? The fears that had kept him from telling the truth for so many years played over and over in his mind.

Spock is a man...I have never heard of bisexual Vulcans.... Feelings are illogical.... He will reject me.... Love is illogical.... It could ruin our friendship... He is my second in command.... He doesn't know....

But those excuses were just that--excuses, evasions.... The words from the poem, that was what truly worried him.

Warrior love.

Could he actually submit if Spock turned that Vulcan strength on him?

He'd read so much about pre-reform Vulcans, about the Warrior bond, and he wanted it like he'd wanted nothing else in his life, but could he take it?

I can't....
But I want him. God, I want him so much.... He is my other half.

Spock's voice reached his ears. So close.

Spock was speaking High Vulcan, repeating the last verse of the poem, the verse that was the Pledge, the words spoken between lovers--t'hy'la--on the day of their bonding.

Then all of a sudden the hands resting on Jim's shoulders pulled him closer and warm breaths brushed across his face. He connected with Spock's thin, wiry body. Shock made his eyes fly open. Spock's face was so close to his that Jim could barely see anything but the smoldering eyes, eyes filled with a passion he hadn't seen on Spock's face since...since the Kal-if-fee.

He trembled violently underneath that gaze. God, he was about to find out if he could take it. He had known, deep down that this was what Spock would give him. He finally admitted to himself what he'd known all along--whether Spock loved him or not had never truly been the issue.

The breath brushing his face was warm and ragged. Spock's Vulcan-hot lips captured his mouth without warning.

Spock kissed him.

Spock was kissing him.

Dear gods in heaven.

Spock.

Desire flared through him like an electrical current, just as sudden and powerful. It was almost debilitating. His knees gave out and Spock manhandled him, pushing him up against the wall. The thin, long frame of his friend was pressed hotly against his body, keeping him upright by mere pressure. Jim pulled his face to the side, avoiding looking at Spock.

"Do not pull away, Jim," Spock said with agony in his gravelly voice. "Do not shut me out."

"What do you want?"

"You, Jim." The deep voice was like desert heat, like burning wildfire. "I want you."

"Want me?"

"Yes."

Jim never got the chance to say anything else. Spock ran long fingers through Jim's hair, burying his face in the crook of Jim's neck. Short strands of the Vulcan's silky black hair brushed against his cheek. Jim could smell Spock's clean scent, reminding him of green tea, pine trees and desert heat. So close, so warm, so hot.

Jim inhaled sharply and moaned, as he felt Spock's ragged breath touch his sensitive skin. A warm tongue flicked over his cheek, sending flames throughout his body. He was numb from shock, and didn't know what to do or what to say. He'd agonized over that letter for years. Was it supposed to be this easy? It couldn't be this easy. He should just have sent it?

"Damn," Jim sighed.

"Damn," Spock echoed in understanding, and captured his lips in another kiss.

This time Jim didn't fight the sensations. Instead, he slackened against the wall. The apprehension drained from his body, replaced by another kind of tension. He was flooded with need, such need and he felt dizzy with the intensity. Years of pent-up passion overwhelmed him, and his hands grabbed at the strong, sinewy shoulders of the Vulcan who held him so tightly. He opened his mouth to another kiss, allowing Spock's tongue into his mouth, sucking it inside eagerly.

Kisses he had longed for were now overwhelming him. He sought them like a man dying of thirst. Spock was his oasis, and Jim was making himself drunk on those kisses. Strong, questing hands moved over his shoulders, downward to his back and he gasped in surprised pleasure when Spock gripped his ass possessively.

The shock of having all initiative taken from him was almost as great as the shock of having Spock there in his arms. He fought to regain some kind of equilibrium, some initiative. He pulled back a little, watching the austere face. It was filled with raw need, barely controlled, barely contained. Spock's desire had taken a very physical form, and it thrilled Jim to the core.

It terrified him.

"You're hard for me," he said shakily.

"It is not the first time, Jim."

A breathy half-gasp, half-laugh escaped Jim then. Spock was moving against him purposefully now and Jim cried out as pleasure coursed through him. Their cocks rubbed against each other with only thin layers of cloth between them. He loved the feeling of Spock's erection moving against his own.

"Let me feel that, Spock."

Jim pushed at Spock slightly, giving himself just enough room to caress the solid chest, then move his hands to Spock's trousers. Uncertain, he stopped at the waistband.

He drew an unsteady breath, and instead of opening the trousers he moved his hand downward, cupping Spock's hard cock through his pants. Spock shifted on his feet to allow further access. He leaned his head back as Jim became bolder, moving sensitive fingers along the Vulcan's cock. The heat from Spock's sex permeated the fabric, burning against the palm of Jim's hand.

"I want you," Spock rasped.

Jim watched his friend, the closest friend he'd ever had, the friend that he had pushed away when he had realized the truth of his own feelings--of his own fears--and felt regret over so many lost years. It could have been so simple.

So simple--and so complicated.

He trembled at the determination he saw in those dark eyes. Spock seemed transformed into a stranger, someone Jim had seldom, if ever, seen. Those eyes spoke of a need Jim had not thought Vulcans experienced outside the pon farr.

"Yes. Oh, yes."

Spock opened his eyes and without ever letting go of his gaze, the Vulcan fell to his knees, deftly opening the fly of Jim's pants. Jim moaned as long fingers brushed against his sex. He was so highly sensitive that the light touch was near-painful.

"So beautiful," Spock murmured. "Jim."

The sound of his name on Spock's lips, voiced like that--as though he was the most precious thing in the known universe--was almost his undoing.

Jim was shivering all over now, at the depth of his reactions. The entire evening had passed in some kind of unreal haze, but now, as Spock knelt before him, opening Jim's pants and pulling his aching cock free of its confines, he couldn't deny the truth any longer. This was real, so fucking real. It was truly happening.

Spock took him into his mouth and the Vulcan's moist lips closed over his sex, tongue whirling across the head, slick with pre-ejaculate. Jim moaned, or sobbed. He couldn't quite tell which. All that held him up was the grip of Vulcan hands on his ass.

Spock was always there, always strong, always loyal. Always.... Spock.

So hot. So wet.

That mouth on him.

"Oh, God, Spock!"

Without once losing momentum, Spock pulled the pants down to Jim's knees with uncharacteristic impatience. Firm hands again gripped Jim's ass powerfully, passionately. He looked down at Spock's face, saw the Vulcan's mouth covering his sex hungrily, as if Spock didn't ever want to stop tasting him. As if his taste was the nectar of the gods. Nobody had ever looked at Jim like that before. Spock's olive skin was flushed, and still his dark eyes were open, freely transmitting the desire, and love, that the Vulcan had never shown him before.

"More, more... yes. More."

Jim rested his head back against the wall, driven half-mad by the feeling of his lover's tongue moving over him. He was utterly lost in sensations. He tensed...and a forceful orgasm crashed over him. He couldn't resist Spock, didn't want to resist. His semen spurted from him into the hot mouth of the Vulcan warrior he'd wanted for so long.

As the tremors subsided, he finally opened his eyes and was met by Spock's gaze.

"I..." he began, but Spock rose swiftly and covered Jim's mouth with his own. Jim moaned into the kiss, turned on by the taste of his semen on Spock's lips. Spock grabbed Jim's hands, pushing them over his head, lacing their fingers together in a strong but loving grip. Jim felt Spock's emotions transmitted through that touch, and warmth tingled through Jim's body, centering in his chest, cresting there, to spread slowly to the rest of his body.

Connected.

"Spock," he whispered, and the Vulcan's eyes darkened passionately. Spock really wanted him. Jim moaned, exposing his throat to Spock's wet, eager lips. Spock covered him in hungry kisses, while the Vulcan's hands tore impatiently at Jim's remaining clothing and threw it haphazardly on the floor. Spock's own garments were swiftly added to the pile. Looking at Spock, Jim saw the Vulcan's large erection jutting proudly between muscular thighs. With a shock he realized he wanted that cock inside him, craved it, needed it. He would have turned around to offer himself then, but Spock lifted him without warning and carried him to the bedroom.

"Dammit, Spock," he complained. "I know you're strong as a horse, you don't have to flaunt it."

An eyebrow rose, but no response was forthcoming. Instead another question was forming in the Vulcan's eyes. Spock voiced it. "Do you want this, Jim?" he asked.

Jim bit his lip and met the other's eyes.

"You must be certain," Spock said. His voice was coarse with desire but the eyes were serious, and Jim felt a tremor of fear travel through his body. Did he want this? He knew instinctively that Spock wasn't talking about the sex. He was talking about the Life-bond--the Life-bond with a Vulcan warrior.

"T'hy'la?"

That word was the last little push Jim needed to truly make up his mind, or to finally give into the decision he had in reality made long ago.

By god, yes he wanted it. He had feared it for so long, but without it--without Spock--he would only lead half a life, crippled and alone. He'd tried that for five long years and it hadn't worked. Now was time to bring some of that famed James T. Kirk courage into his personal life.

So he nodded.

"Yeah, Spock, I do. I do want this. All of it--you, the bond--everything."

Spock's eyes softened.

"It is forever, Jim. No turning back. You will be mine."

The possessiveness in the Vulcan's voice sent a shiver down his spine and tremors through his body.

"I know."

No more words were spoken. Jim was simply turned around onto all fours, and he didn't fight the strong grip. He knew that resisting would be fruitless, and he shivered at that knowledge, but admitted to himself that he didn't want to fight Spock. He needed this. He had feared it, but wanted it. He buried his face in the pillow and cried out in pleasure when a sudden wet, very intimate caress touched the core of his being. Spock was licking down the crevice between his buttocks, reaching the center of his body. He shivered uncontrollably at the intimate touch.

Good god, Spock, what are you doing to me?

Wetly, deeply Spock was probing with a long, slick tongue, preparing him for penetration. That alone made Jim's cock rock-hard once more. Without warning, the wet caress disappeared and two fingers thrust inside him. He sobbed with the pain-pleasure of that touch.

"Oh god, yes," he cried out. "Yes, Spock!"

The fingers disappeared and he sobbed at the loss.

Empty.

He'd never felt so empty before.

"You wish me to fuck you?" Spock said hoarsely. Jim felt the other's body prone against his back, felt the steel-hard shaft of the large Vulcan cock brushing against the sensitive opening to his body. He jerked with the electricity of that feeling.

He moaned raggedly and couldn't respond.

Spock rocked his hips and his cock moved slowly, slickly against Jim's emptiness. Spock was teasing him so badly.

Dear god, I want him so much!

"Fuck me, Spock" he pleaded.

Again the motion was slow, teasing. The blunt head nudged at the opening, and Jim forced himself to relax, anticipating the pain he would feel when Spock entered him, but again, the Vulcan pulled away. Jim was sobbing now. Hot flickers of pleasure and an excruciating need licked his entire body, making him tremble like a leaf.

"Damn you, Spock. Shove that gorgeous cock up my ass. Fuck me!"

Then, finally, Spock buried himself with one hard, swift thrust, which didn't hurt half as much as Jim had expected. He was so hot, so needy that he just cried out and thrust himself back onto that hard shaft. Spock pulled back once and Jim moaned deeply again, knowing that he'd come any second.

"Do not." Spock said, and the Vulcan's long fingers wrapped around the base of Jim's sex, preventing him from climaxing. Then the other hand brushed against Jim's temple, and he finally realized what was going on and he whispered.

"Yes, Spock. Come inside me."

Bond us!

He couldn't say the words aloud. Some small flicker of fear still resided within him and he couldn't say it, but he knew that Spock would understand, and suddenly something licked at the edge of Jim's mind. Warm, heated strands of flame insinuated themselves through his consciousness.

Dark as Spock's eyes, the flowing and red-hot tendrils of the Vulcan's Self spilled into him, wrapping his mind with warmth, love and overwhelming desire. Tentatively he reached out with his own mind and found all that he'd expected and so much more. He found so many facets of Spock's feelings for him--fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a longing to match his own. All of it seeped into his mind. Spock had an empty void inside, echoing with the same loneliness that Jim had felt inside for so many years. With a crystal-clear insight Jim realized that he was the one who filled that emptiness within Spock. He took that loneliness away with his love, his longing and his desire.

Jim remembered how he had felt when Spock came to his apartment earlier that night. Filled. They merged, and for each, the presence of the other filled all those empty spaces in their minds and they were whole.

"Oh, Jim." Spock gasped. "Jim, T'hy'la!"

And they were coming, together, so hard that Jim thought he would pass out. He thought his mind would cave in on itself and that he would never awaken again. But instead he managed to speak through the flames that devoured his body and soul.

"Spock. I love you ... love you... always loved you. Don't ever leave me again!"

As the sensation subsided, he fell to the bed, under Spock's comforting weight, wrapped in a possessive grip that said Spock would never, ever let him go.

He could live with that. Damn, he couldn't live without it.

Slowly, they disentangled and Jim ended up lying with an arm and a leg thrown over the Vulcan's slender body. Their hands lay entwined on Spock's furry chest. The grip was firm, but not painful. Their eyes met, and Jim noticed that their mind-link had disconnected.

"I'm sorry," Jim said clearing his throat, which was sore as if he had been crying, but he had no memory of it.

Spock looked down at him. "What are you sorry for, Jim?" he asked.

He pushed himself up, to sit beside his friend--his lover?

"I don't know--for everything. For never telling you how I feel, for resenting you for not joining the second five-year mission, for never understanding how you felt--for not sending the letter, for being... afraid of--this." He laughed unsteadily. "I'm sorry for a lot of things." He pushed his hand through his hair, looking away. He felt awkward.

Spock's hand was on his shoulder then, the grip sure and comforting. Jim could only follow its lead and he found himself in the Vulcan's arms again, being kissed. The hot tongue thrust into his mouth reminding him that he wasn't alone in this, and all Jim's doubts fled. Spock pulled back only a fraction. His mouth was so close that Jim could feel the brush of warm lips against his cheek as Spock said, "Do not be sorry, Jim. Simply--make love to me."

Jim's gut tightened at that, and he swallowed, moving closer to Spock, pushing his fingers through the dark hair, reveling at the sensuous feel of the black strands running through his fingers.

They were kissing again, long, languid kisses that soon transformed into passionate, deep ones. Spock moaned as Jim licked his way over his lover's throat. The Vulcan's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as Spock swallowed convulsively. The sound of unrestrained desire sent shivers through Jim's body, making him rock-hard in an instant.

He'd come twice already. He was forty-three for crying out loud! He chuckled.

But, such raw need, such passion from Spock was more than Jim had ever dared to hope for, and his lover tasted so good, felt so good. Spock was all hard angles and bone underneath his touch, all warm and so wonderfully male in his arousal. Jim moved his hand down from the Vulcan's shoulders over Spock's chest, brushing his palm over the coarse chest-hair. Touching Spock like that was something Jim had longed to do for years.

"Remember Ekos, Spock?" Jim murmured against a pointed ear, licking it, sucking the tip into his mouth, marveling at the strange sensation of the sharp point against his tongue. He was relaxing, realizing that Spock was content to allow Jim to lead this time. Maybe he wouldn't always have to submit.

"Yes?" The response was a gasp, barely coherent.

"You were driving me out of my mind." Jim explored the tip of that ear even as his hand moved further down on Spock's body. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to force you to get dressed or ravish you then and there," he admitted.

Spock visibly pulled himself together and looked him in the eye. "I am quite certain that our cellmate would have found such a display most intriguing," he replied.

Jim chuckled.

"Had not the time and place been so inappropriate, I would not have rejected you, Jim."

Jim gasped at the honest admission "You were so beautiful, and I wanted to kill those bastards who whipped you."

Spock didn't reply as Jim purposefully moved his hand downward, reaching the jade sex, which swelled rapidly, reaching for his caresses.

"You're hard for me again, Spock," he pointed out unnecessarily.

"Indeed."

"How long have you wanted me?"

"Surely you know the answer?"

And he did. It had been there from the very first time they met. The connection, the desire... and the love had evolved from there.

He'd always wanted Spock, but back then, the fears voiced in his letter had been true. One by one, he had eliminated those, even if he hadn't truly admitted it to himself. But ever since Spock's pon farr the fear had changed shape, become deeper and more difficult to overcome.

"No more talking, Spock. Just fuck me."

Spock's eyes darkened and he moved quickly. Jim had forgotten how fast Spock could move. The Vulcan was on his back, legs spread.

"No, Jim, I want you to fuck me this time."

Jim gasped at such crude words from Spock. He'd never heard the Vulcan use such language before today, and that alone drove him crazy. There was no more time for talk. Spock's words inflamed him.

Jim thought wryly that perhaps he wouldn't always have to submit, but there was no question of who was still in control of this particular encounter. But it didn't bother him at all. He thought it should have, but it didn't. With those black, lust-filled eyes looking at him like he was the most delicious thing ever created, he found he didn't mind one bit.

Reaching for the Vulcan's hard shaft, he gathered some of the slick natural lubricant.

"Practical thing, this," he pointed out. The distinct lack of coherent response from his lover drove him to distraction. He slowly, languidly coated his sex and his fingers with the slick fluid. Spock's eyes followed his every move with rapt attention and Jim thought he might come from that look alone. When he insinuated one finger inside the Vulcan, Spock threw his head back and moaned, "Yes, Jim. T'hy'la."

He stretched the opening and inserted another finger, slowly. God, Spock was tight.

"Jim," Spock pleaded and their gazes locked.

He knew what that look meant. Spock might not say it aloud...

"Fuck me, Jim. Fuck me."

... or he might, Jim thought and gasped as all blood seemed to rush to his loins at those words.

"Oh God, Yes, Spock."

He entered his partner with one swift stroke, groaning as he felt the heat of the other's body surround him. The mind-link roared to life as he buried himself to the hilt, as if it had never disconnected. Jim felt almost dizzy with the suddenness of it.

He was lost then for a moment, moving on pure instinct, driving himself selfishly toward release.

Then he forced himself to slow down, to enjoy the moment and the closeness. He opened his eyes, leaning closer over Spock to watch his face, so close. Jim's arms trembled when he moved to kiss Spock's lips. They were swollen from kisses and because Spock had bitten his lower lip several times in an effort to stifle his moans. But Jim didn't want him to silence his noises of pleasure.

"Spock, tell me how good this feels. Let me hear it, let me see it in your face."

Spock's eyes opened and they kissed again. Jim sucked Spock's tongue into his mouth, the Vulcan tongue-fucked him, matching Jim's rhythm. Their actions were a constant give and take, and pleasure built steadily.

Then Spock twisted his face to the side and arched up to meet Jim's thrusts. The moans were flowing freely from the Vulcan's mouth now and they were rocking together in a fierce motion. Jim's hand moved between them to grasp Spock's hard cock, feeling it slide hotly through his fingers. He saw Spock's hands dig into the sheets, saw the dark head writhe from side to side in intense pleasure. Spock was letting go completely and Jim had never seen something so beautiful, so erotic.

Beautiful, Spock. God, you're beautiful.

Jim watched as the pleasure overtook the Vulcan completely, his face holding an expression of such pleasure it seemed he was in pain, and Jim felt it then, the orgasm crashing through Spock as he tumbled over the edge into a violent release...

"Jim, ah, Jim," he moaned.

... and Jim closed his eyes, feeling Spock inside him, the pleasure rippling through Jim as well, sending him tumbling headlong into his own climax. Their minds were intertwining. A meld without Spock's hands placed at the meld-points.

Does this mean we are bonded, Spock? his mind whispered through the pleasure crashing through him like cresting waves.

No, T'hy'la. Soon. You will know when.

And then he did feel it. It was as though part of Spock's soul entered Jim and found itself a place in his mind, making itself comfortable. The experience wasn't intrusive or even particularly noticeable. It was as though that part of Jim that he felt lacking without Spock was simply filled, permanently. Jim sighed with contentment.

All was right with the world, and he didn't understand what he had been afraid of all those years.

"Jim."

"Yes."

"Why did you not say anything? Why did you not send the letter?"

"It sounds silly now."

"Tell me."

"I was afraid, so afraid."

"What were you frightened of?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"...."

"You, the Vulcan Warrior."

"I am not a Vulcan Warrior, Jim."

"Sure you are."

"There must be more than that, Jim," Spock said softly.

"Yeah, I was afraid of submitting to you, of committing to you."

"I trust you realize now that you will not have to submit to me any more than I have to submit to you, Jim. I may be Vulcan, and some warriors might have had such a relationship in the past, but I assure you, that is not what I seek."

"I know that now. I think I might always have known, but that wasn't all either. I was most afraid of something within myself, really. I was afraid of the depth of my own feelings for you, and the fact that I know that part of why I am so attracted to you is that I want to submit to you. It thrills me."

"But it also intimidates you?"

"Yeah," Jim admitted. "And I was afraid to tell you because somewhere deep down I knew that you wouldn't reject me, and that you loved me as well."

"Indeed." The answer was soft, and it held all the meaning necessary.

"Some brave captain, huh?"

"I wish you had told me."

"So do I. Is this why you didn't join the second five-year mission, Spock?"

"I found I could not serve under you, having to fight against my emotions each day."

"Spock... We have wasted so much time." Jim's voice was sad.

"We are bonded now. Let us not dwell on the past."

"Yes, we're bonded. It's hard to believe."

"Does it frighten you?"

Jim didn't answer immediately, but then looked into Spock's eyes and admitted: "It frightens me."

"I believe that perhaps your apprehension is a positive emotion in this case. A relationship such as this is new to us both. We should not enter into it lightly."

"You're right, as always, Spock. I love you."

Jim Kirk tried to ignore the trembling of his hands as he leaned over to kiss his Vulcan warrior.

END

Challenge for Kirk/Spock Online Festival:
Spock finds a letter from Kirk that was never sent. A love letter. Late in their lives. Post-TOS series.