If you're not interested in the lyrics, skip to the story.

THE SAME MISTAKE

Kirk pushed the data solid across his desk. The one that contained the apology--actually, a confession and an apology--from his best friend. At least, he'd thought that Spock was his best friend. He hadn't known what Spock had done to him when they served together on the Enterprise. He had played and replayed the message a dozen times since he'd received it a week ago. But he still didn't really understand it.

He dropped the data solid and turned to the messages displayed on his computer. The first was a reminder that he'd agreed to attend a reception at the Vulcan Embassy. Kirk had always enjoyed his contact with the Vulcan ambassador. Until this message from Spock. But he had too much pride to admit that he was afraid of Vulcan mental powers now.

//////////

"James."

Kirk flinched when Sarek walked up behind him. It had been hot inside the Embassy, and he had walked out on the balcony to stare up into the night sky.

"Ambassador." He looked at the dignified Vulcan and saw lines on that seemingly ageless face. Weariness? Or grief over the son who now signed his correspondence as Spock cha Kolinahr instead of Spock cha Sarek?

He and Sarek had talked earlier of Federation politics and the nominees for T'Pau's replacement on the Vulcan Council. Sarek had introduced him to the new members of the Embassy staff who had arrived from Vulcan earlier that week. He knew enough Vulcan language and custom to realize that Sarek had introduced him as he would a family member.

"You are thinking of Spock." It wasn't a question. Sarek tucked his hands inside his robe. He was probably uncomfortable in the damp fog that surrounded the balcony. Spock would have been, and Kirk would have sensed that discomfort even if Spock denied it.

Sarek came a step closer. "I find that my mind is on Amanda. It is possible during the day to distract oneself with work, but in the evenings . . . " Sarek's eyes also scanned the night sky.

"Why didn't Amanda come with you?" Kirk was a little uncomfortable talking about Amanda. Did Sarek believe that he was thinking about Spock in the same way?

"Her work keeps her on Vulcan." Sarek rested his hands on the railing. "She asked me to speak with you. She wishes you to come to see her. You are welcome in our home. She wished me to tell you: we do not blame you for the choice that Spock made."

The breeze off the bay was suddenly cold, and Kirk wrapped his arms around his chest. "Maybe you should, sir."

Sarek sighed. A human sound that Kirk had not expected to hear. "Specify."

Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe it was because Lori had just left, and McCoy had gone away long before. And there wasn't anyone to talk to. Maybe it was because Sarek was experienced in inspiring people to confide in him. A useful skill for an ambassador. Just as it was a useful skill for the starship captain he had once been. But, staring out at the bright lights of San Francisco, which were slightly distorted by the fog, he told Sarek everything. At least, everything that he remembered.

The silence hung between them before Sarek said, "You rejected him, James? And that is why he went to Gol?"

"No, I never . . . " Kirk swallowed. "I don't know. If I did, I don't remember." He rubbed his jaw. "I don't know how I would have reacted if he had told me the truth. He must have believed that I would reject him, and that's why he left."

"Initially, he may have feared it." Sarek steepled his fingers together. "But he trusted that you would forgive him. That was his conclusion after two point three five years of contemplation."

"I'm sure that he had plenty of other matters to contemplate," Kirk said. He could hear laughter coming up from the street, muffled by the fog. Behind him, inside the Embassy, a string instrument played a tune that he had heard Spock play more than once.

"He sent his message to you." Sarek inclined his head slightly.

Kirk shrugged. "Yes, he sent me a message. I think it took a lot of courage, but I wish that he had--"

"You do not understand, James." Sarek placed his hand on Kirk's shoulder. It seemed to burn through the fabric of his dress uniform. "A Kolinahr is only permitted one message. It is his last contact with the world. He chose to contact you." Sarek took the hand away and tucked it back into his sleeve. "He was wrong to take your memories, but I am sure that he had a logical reason. Perhaps he intended to spare you pain." Sarek's expression became remote.

Kirk flushed and dropped his eyes to study the toe of his boot. "I believe that you're right. And I forgive him. Maybe I shouldn't, but . . . " He took a deep breath and looked back at Sarek. "Spock means more to me than you could ever know. If he's suffering over something that he did to me . . . " He shook his head. "He trusts that I forgive him. But I want him to know that I do. I want him to choose Kolinahr because he wants it, not because of some misplaced guilt over what he did to me."

Sarek nodded slightly. "You will accept him as your bondmate. Amanda will be pleased." He turned toward the door. "I will inform her of this."

Kirk frowned and put up his hand as if to stop Sarek. "I didn't say that. I said that I forgive him."

"It is not so simple as that, Admiral." Sarek came back to stand at the railing. "If you wish to communicate with him, you must go to him."

"Really, Ambassador?" Resting his elbows on the railing, Kirk looked sideways at Sarek. "That's what you want me to do, isn't it? You're hoping that I can convince him to leave Gol."

Sarek tensed beside him, and then relaxed, a faint smile passing over his features. "I trust you will not destroy my career by allowing word of this to 'leak out,' James. It would not do for an ambassador to be so transparent."

"You love him," Kirk murmured. He shook his head. "I don't know if Spock realizes how much his father loves him."

Eyebrow climbing, Sarek said, "Or his former captain?"

Kirk sighed. "We were best friends." He stared down at his hands. "I guess I must have failed him. Or he wouldn't have gone to Gol because he was afraid to tell me the truth." He turned his back on the lights of the city and crossed his arms on his chest. "Sarek, can you help me? I want to remember. You see . . . " He compressed his lips. ". . . it seems that even I don't realize how much I love him."

//////////

"Do you wish a healer?" Sarek's voice was gentle.

Kirk shook his head. "Can you do it? I don't want a stranger."

Sarek nodded. "I believe I understand." He pressed his fingertips together. "When?"

Kirk straightened. "Now?"

"Very well. Come." Sarek led him back into the crowded room. Without betraying any sense of urgency, they walked side by side, greeting acquaintances but avoiding being drawn into any conversations.

Kirk nearly laughed when they exited into the hall, headed for Sarek's office. "You're extremely . . . diplomatic, Sarek. No one could have guessed that you couldn't wait to escape that gathering."

"And you, James."

Kirk smiled, enjoying the ease of walking beside a close, trusted friend. The first time he'd met Sarek, he'd been intimidated, but now he was relaxed in his presence. Nonetheless, some of that relaxation vanished when they walked into Sarek's office, and he thought about why they'd come.

"Sit. Be comfortable." Sarek went to the sideboard and began to prepare tea.

Instead of sitting, he walked off some of his nervous energy, looking at memorabilia on Sarek's walls, his desk, and his credenza. The middle shelf of the credenza held a holo of Kirk and Spock, which had been taken at the end of their five-year mission--before Spock had gone to Gol. He picked it up, marveling at how relaxed these two men looked together. Why hadn't he recognized that losing Spock left a hole in his life? Why hadn't he tried to talk him into staying?

"James?"

Kirk put down the picture and sat down on the couch beside Sarek. He nodded thanks as he lifted the cup to his lips. He breathed in the warmth and the spicy scent. Cardamom and cinnamon. He closed his eyes and conjured up a picture of Spock sitting beside him on a couch in his quarters. He opened his eyes, and drank the warm liquid, the warmth sliding down his throat into his belly.

They put their empty cups on the table nearly simultaneously and turned to gaze at each other.

Kirk smiled faintly. "Are you sure that you're ready for this?"

Sarek's eyes sparkled, but his lips did not turn up. "I was prepared to ask you the same." He put out his hands to touch the meld points on Kirk's temples. "Relax."

He lifted his face to Sarek, closed his eyes, and obeyed. It was the first time that he'd ever allowed anyone other than Spock to touch his mind.

//////////

Jim walked down the empty corridor and touched the access pad to one of the biochemistry labs. It was late in the beta shift, so he hadn't expected to find anyone in there, but he'd heard voices. He hadn't been in command of the Enterprise long enough to have met everyone on the ship, so he was eager to meet these scientists who were working so diligently into the night. He stepped in the door.

And stopped.

Gary Mitchell, his old friend from the Academy and his second officer, and Spock, his first officer and science officer. Mitchell was no scientist, so it was a surprise to find him here. Jim had sensed tension between them before. It was his fault, he realized. He had recklessly promised Mitchell that he would be the first offiuried his face against the human's neck.

Kirk couldn't determine if Spock was still fightingk had already worked through their differences by the time Mitchell had arrived. He should have found a way to smooth over the tension between his old friend and his new friend.

Mitchell's back was turned, but Spock's face was visible. Neither appeared to have heard Jim walk in.

"I'll bet he has the softest mouth in the Fleet. Definitely, the sweetest ass," Mitchell was saying in a low voice. "The only tough part is deciding where to put your cock first."

Spock's eyebrow jumped. "Mr. Mitchell, I am not interested in your fantasies of--"

"Fantasies?" Mitchell laughed, and the sound caused the hairs on the nape of Jim's neck to stand up and his stomach to flip-flop. "Besides, don't tell me that you're not interested. I've seen you look at him."

Spock straightened. "Naturally, I look at him. It would be disrespectful to avoid--"

"No, you don't avoid him, do you?" Mitchell laughed and clamped his hand on Spock's arm.

Spock shook the hand off. "I believe that you are intoxicated, Mr. Mitchell. Perhaps you should retire to your quarters."

Mitchell's hand clamped on Spock's shoulder. "Why don't you join me? Since it's clear that--"

"Mr. Mitchell." A light green flush suffused Spock's face.

Jim stepped forward. "Mr. Mitchell, I think you should take Mr. Spock's advice and go to your quarters."

Mitchell and Spock both whirled around. Grinning widely, Mitchell moved his eyes slowly up and down Jim's body. "Hey, kid. I was just telling Spock here--"

"Captain," Spock said sharply, "I did not expect to see you at this hour."

Jim gave Spock what was intended to be a reassuring smile. "I was just walking around tucking in the ship. I didn't intend to eavesdrop. But if Mr. Mitchell is annoying you--"

"I was just leaving." Mitchell's grin shifted back to Spock. "Sweet dreams, Mr. First Officer."

"Good night, Captain." Spock sat down in front of a computer with the air of a man who wanted to be left alone.

Jim nodded. "Good night, Mr. Spock. Mr. Mitchell." He turned and walked out of the lab. As he strode down the corridor, his hands were shaking a little, and he decided that his day had been long enough.

"Jim." A large hand grasped the back of his neck. "That wasn't very friendly, was it?" He could smell the whiskey on Mitchell's breath.

"Damn it, Gary, can't you . . ." But he swallowed his words when Mitchell wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him into the nearest lab. Mitchell pushed him against the wall, rubbing his hard groin against Jim's thigh. He pulled Jim's wrists up over his head and captured his mouth in an angry kiss that tasted more of whiskey than desire.

Choking on the scent of Mitchell's sweat and arousal, he pulled his hands free and pushed the other man away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Mitchell's eyes were sparkling, and he laughed again. "Don't tell me you don't remember, kid."

Jim flushed. "Spock's right. You are drunk."

Grabbing his right arm, Mitchell twisted it around Jim's back. "Spock, huh?" He leaned forward and bit Jim's earlobe. "You want the Vulcan, don't you? That's why you're not interested in your old fuck buddy, Gary."

He tried to push Mitchell away, but the grip was too tight on his arm. Jim was just as strong as Mitchell, but he didn't want to send his second officer to sickbay or end up there himself. It had been a long time since Mitchell had . . . Stay calm, James T.

"Mitchell, you're drunk. You and I have been over for a long time. Let go now, and we'll forget this ever happened." He grunted at the pain as Mitchell twisted the arm a little harder.

Jim didn't want to cause a scene with Mitchell, but he wasn't going to let this go any further. He brought his knee up to impact Mitchell's groin. At least that was his intention. But he didn't move fast enough.

"Just like last time, Jim." Mitchell twisted him and pressed his forearm against Jim's carotid artery hard enough to clamp off some of the blood supply, so that he was dizzy and nauseated. He dug his fingernails into Mitchell's arm.

The pressure suddenly let up. His ears were still ringing, but he opened his eyes slowly. Mitchell had come to his senses, and . . . Jim stared at Mitchell sprawled on the floor, and then looked up into his first officer's dark brown eyes.

Spock swallowed and gripped his hands behind his back. "I trust that I was correct in my belief that his attentions were unwelcome."

"Yes." Jim voice came out almost a whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Thank you, Mr. Spock. I don't . . . " He looked down at Mitchell. "What did you do to him?"

"A nerve pinch." Spock gazed down at Mitchell with a look that Jim had once seen on his face when reviewing a failed scientific experiment. "He will wake up with sore shoulder and neck muscles, but no permanent damage has been done." He looked at his captain. "Shall I call security to put him in the brig?"

Jim shook his head. "I'd rather not."

"Ah. He *is* your lover, and this was merely a misunderstanding?" Spock looked away. "I did not believe him. I assumed that--"

"No," Jim said quickly. He flushed and stared down at the toe of his boots. "We were . . . But it's been over for ten years."

"Apparently, he does not realize that."

Jim's chin came up, and his eyes widened as he studied Spock's face. "Apparently." He rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly. "This is embarrassing."

Spock's eyebrow lifted. "You have done nothing for which you should be ashamed."

Jim smiled faintly, mocking himself. "Except choose my old lovers unwisely."

"I *would* consider you unwise if Mr. Mitchell were currently your lover, but I would not judge you for a youthful error." Spock's tone was gentle.

Jim's smile widened, and he touched Spock's arm. "I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep for a couple of hours. Can you spare some time from your work? How about a chess game?"

"That would be acceptable."

He looked down at Mitchell. "He'll be OK here, won't he?"

Spock spared a glance for the fallen second officer. "No doubt he will be awake before the alpha shift comes in. But I cannot guarantee that he will be of much utility on the bridge tomorrow morning."

"That's OK. We won't be reaching the galaxy's edge for another couple of days." Jim led his first officer out into the corridor and the door slid closed behind them.

They talked ship's business as they walked. Spock didn't seem surprised when Jim headed for his quarters instead of the rec room where they usually played. Spock had a suggestion for a replacement navigator. Jim hadn't even told his first officer that he was thinking about asking Mitchell to transfer off the Enterprise.

He offered Spock tea and decided to have the same. They didn't set up the chess game. He sat down on the couch next to Spock who commented on the books on the credenza. Spock had read most of them on computer, but he was curious about the experience of reading them on paper and how it differed from reading a computer file. A slight smile played on the Vulcan's face as Jim passionately described the experience of holding a book in one's hands and turning the pages.

"You're laughing at me," Jim said, refilling Spock's cup.

"I?" Spock shook his head and sipped his tea. "Vulcans do not engage in such behavior." But his eyes were sparkling.

Jim looked down and smiled into his cup. "I think Mitchell was wrong."

"Specify." Spock's response was curt, but the tone was infinitely gentle, and peering through his eyelashes, Jim could see his lips part slightly as he stared at Jim.

Spock's gaze warmed him as he put his cup carefully on the table. "When he was talking about the softest mouth in the Fleet, he should have been talking about you, Spock." He liked the feel of Spock's name on his tongue. He took the cup out of his friend's hand, their fingers brushed together, and he placed that cup down on the table, too.

Spock swallowed and extended a hand to lightly touch Jim's lips. "Ah. This may be the first occasion when I agree with Mr. Mitchell. He was referring to *your* mouth." He rubbed his index finger across Jim's lips until they parted, and a tongue darted out. Spock gasped softly. "Your mouth *is* exceptionally soft."

He leaned forward slightly, Spock did the same, and their lips touched. Jim closed his eyes and, for a moment, their lips just rested against each other, heat against cool. Their lips parted, but only by a half-centimeter, and Jim breathed in Spock's scent of sagebrush and spices. Spock's right hand came up to cup Jim's chin. Jim already knew the strength in that hand, but now he knew the gentleness there.

"Jim," Spock breathed.

When Spock's lips parted to say his name, Jim's lips parted, too, and his tongue slipped easily in, tasting the heat and the alien spice of Spock's mouth. He dug his fingers into the taut muscles of Spock's shoulders. Spock's left hand went to the small of Jim's back and caressed soothing circles. He relaxed and moved closer, seeking the delicious warmth that radiated off his friend.

He was suddenly lifted, carried into the sleeping area, and placed on the bed. "Spock! What do you think you're doing?" But he grinned and began pulling off his boots. He was glad that he'd worn his wraparound tunic, so he didn't have to take his eyes away to pull it over his head. He hoped that Spock wouldn't come to his senses and leave. Jim told himself that he would go crazy if they stopped now.

Spock pulled off his own clothes and folded them neatly. "In the interest of harmony with my fellow senior officers, I wished to verify whether I find another area of agreement with Mr. Mitchell." He eased Jim back onto the bed, supporting himself on his elbows, so that his full weight wasn't crushing Jim. They were chest to chest, belly to belly, and cock to cock when Spock's mouth came down on his.

Jim closed his eyes and slid his arms around Spock's neck. Spock's lips were as soft as he had imagined. And his tongue was hot and sweet. If his tongue tasted this good, he wondered what the rest of Spock would taste like. But he didn't waste much time wondering. Spock was stronger, but he wasn't intent on proving it. He allowed Jim to roll him over on his back, and his fingers caressed Jim's hair and the nape of his neck as Jim kissed and nibbled a path down Spock's body. Spock's accelerated breathing was audible in the quiet room.

Jim smiled at the soft cry when he teased his tongue against Spock's cockhead. "You taste good." He slid one hand around the base of his friend's cock, and palmed his ass with the other hand. He urged his legs wider and stroked his perineum so that Spock moaned out loud. Jim's tongue explored the thick vein on the underside of the shaft and played along the sensitive place between the twin ridges. Spock's cock was big, but by relaxing his throat muscles, he could take it all into his mouth. He deep-throated the hot length, but when Spock started to thrust helplessly, he backed off a little. He used his stroking hands on the entire shaft and sucked on the tip until Spock's balls tightened.

"Jim! Oh, Jim," Spock groaned out before he orgasmed. His come was thicker and sweeter than a human's.

"You liked that, did you?" Jim chuckled and stretched out beside his enervated first officer. He leaned in to brush a kiss across Spock's mouth.

At first, Spock was very still. When his eyes finally opened, he said huskily, "Your fame is well-deserved." He slid his hand around the back of Jim's neck and pulled his head down for a deep kiss.

"You're laughing at me again," he murmured when Spock's mouth came away.

"I assure you," Spock said, leaving Jim sprawled on the bed as he stood up, "I am quite incapable of laughing at you."

Jim raised himself on his elbows. "Spock, where are you going?" A flutter of resentment began in his stomach. He was still aching and hard.

/////////

Spock stood beside the bed, and his eyes swept over Jim's naked body. Although he didn't smile, his eyes conveyed appreciation. His mere gaze was more erotic than an entire sexual encounter with a less skillful lover. "I will not leave you unsatisfied. It would be illogical as well as unmannerly." He tilted his head slightly. "We were somewhat impetuous when we commenced, and we did not prepare appropriately. Do you have some oil? Or some other type of lubricant?"

Jim's mouth went dry. Spock was going to fuck him. His cock leapt at the thought. He'd heard rumors that male Vulcans were extraordinarily dominant in bed, but he always thought that the people who spread those rumors had overactive imaginations. Vulcans were so controlled, and Spock had been gentle so far. "Um, yeah. In the top drawer. Unscented massage oil." He gestured at the bedside table. He flushed; he knew he sounded too eager.

"Ah." Spock sat down on the bed, and opened the vial. "This will do very well."

Jim's eyes widened as he watched Spock's cock harden again. Vulcans are insatiable. More stupid rumors. He felt a little foolish. He'd always treated Spock like a person. He'd never thought of him as a "Vulcan" before, but now he was thinking that he was about to be fucked by a "Vulcan" instead of thinking about his friend, Spock.

He rolled over on his stomach and spread his legs. He'd been annoyed--and maybe a little scared--earlier that night when it was clear that Mitchell wanted to fuck his ass. But now he was curious about what it would feel like to have Spock's hotter-than-human cock inside of him. He'd taken his time sucking it, so that he knew exactly how it felt in his mouth and his hand. Up his ass was another thing. It had been a while since he'd been fucked. But he wanted it. He trusted that Spock would be careful and wouldn't hurt him.

"Beautiful one." Spock's voice was soft, almost a whisper, and his hot fingers skimmed lightly down Jim's back and molded his ass cheeks. "Do you believe that I am that selfish?" His slid his hands over Jim's inner thighs, and Jim gasped. "I wish to give thee as much pleasure as thee has given me." Spock rested a hand lightly on his buttocks. "Your entire body is beautiful, but I would prefer to see your face."

Jim rolled over, his cheeks hot. "I'm sorry. I just assumed that . . ." He wondered why he wasn't uncomfortable with Spock calling him beautiful and touching him gently, almost reverently. It was an entirely new aspect of their relationship. Spock had always treated him with grave and genuine respect--once they had learned to trust each other as captain and first officer.

Spock bent to kiss his mouth. "There is no need for apologies between us." He knelt between Jim's thighs, and rubbed his hands together, before he placed them on Jim's chest and began to massage gently. "It was a logical assumption. I did ask for a lubricant."

Jim closed his eyes, enjoying the light touch. Spock was firing nerve endings of which he had never before been aware. "You can, you know. Fuck my ass. I know that it would feel good for both of us."

"Affirmative." Spock lifted one of Jim's hands to his mouth. "But there is plenty of time for that." He kissed each of the fingertips separately.

"Spock." Jim gasped at each contact. "What the hell are you doing to me? That feels incredible."

Spock didn't respond. He replaced Jim's hand gently on the bed, his fingers slid over pectoral muscles, and his thumbs teased at nipples. When Jim moaned softly, Spock lowered himself to stop that moan with a kiss that was feather-soft, but seemed to reach inside and squeeze his chest until it ached. Jim writhed under the hot body as Spock's lips trailed after his fingers, as though seeking to touch and kiss every centimeter of his skin.

Warm oil coated Jim's cock and balls, and an oiled finger slid up inside his puckered opening. He tried to tamp down his excitement by calculating fuel-intermix formulas, but the sweet sensation was too much. His balls tightened, and he cried out incoherently as he orgasmed. If he'd had the breath for it, he would have laughed out of pure joy, but he whispered, "Sorry. I couldn't wait." He petted Spock's ears and the back of his head.

He must have fallen asleep. When he woke up, his head was pillowed on Spock's chest. Spock's heartbeat thrummed against his hip. He stirred and rubbed his cheek against Spock's hard nipple.

Spock pushed back the hair off Jim's forehead and his voice was barely a whisper when he said, "I love you, Jim."

Jim froze. He hadn't expected that Spock would . . . He admired his friend, and the sex had been amazing, but he wasn't ready to make any such declaration. The only solution was to pretend that he hadn't heard it. He yawned and in a teasing tone, he said, "So, do you, Spock?"

Spock, his eyes still closed, massaged lazy circles into Jim's back. "Do I what, Jim?"

"Agree with Mitchell?" He kissed Spock's nipple and smiled when he jumped slightly.

"'Fishing for compliments' is, I believe, the correct expression." Spock raised himself on his elbow, dumping Jim off his chest, and looked down into his captain's face. "Is Mitchell the reason that I am here?" His eyes were solemn as he traced a finger along Jim's jaw. "Captain, I will not mind. If you wish me to tell Mitchell . . . "

"No." Jim turned his head to kiss Spock's palm. "You aren't here to make Mitchell jealous. I asked you here because you have a brilliant mind and a beautiful body, and I enjoy being with you." He raised his head slightly to press a kiss onto Spock's stern lips. "I didn't actually plan to end the evening like this. Maybe it was a mistake, but I can't regret it now." He smiled a warm smile. "And you shouldn't call me 'Captain' when we're in bed together."

Spock slid his arms around and pulled Jim hard against his chest. "I do not wish you to ever regret any time spent with me." They kissed until Jim moaned softly in his throat. "In truth," Spock murmured, "I fear that I have not conducted enough research. I will agree that your buttocks are pleasing to contemplate, but I have very little experiential data." One of his hands captured Jim's cock, coaxing it back to life, while he slid his other hand into the oiled cleft of Jim's ass. "More research is indicated."

"Horny Vulcan," Jim said with a chuckle. He twisted out of Spock's arms to lie face down on the bed. His breathing accelerated when Spock spread his ass cheeks and anointed his opening with a kiss. He gasped and cried out when Spock manipulated his cock and balls and probed his ass with his tongue. He expected the tongue to be replaced with a hard cock, but Spock took him over the edge again with just his tongue and his strong warm hands.

After, Jim rolled over and tugged Spock up to kiss his mouth. He took Spock's chin in his hand and placed kisses along his jawline. "Where did you learn to fuck like that?"

The slight smile vanished, and Spock pulled away. "I do not believe that interrogation is part of your right as . . . " He turned his head, so that Jim's hand fell away.

"As what?" Jim gripped his shoulders. "Your captain? Or your lover?" He pushed the dark hair off Spock's forehead. The hair that he'd never seen mussed before tonight. "Spock, it wasn't an interrogation. It was . . . um . . . sexual banter. A compliment on your skills as a lover." He kissed Spock's eyelids closed. "I didn't intend to make you uncomfortable. I want to make you feel good. As good as you make me feel." He reached between their bellies to fondle Spock's hard cock. "Now what would you like me to do with this?"

Spock's only answer was a light kiss on the corner of Jim's mouth.

"So, I need to take the initiative, do I?" Jim chuckled. He urged Spock to straddle his chest and plumped the pillows under his own head. He gripped his hips and drew the green-tinged erection into his mouth. Spock gasped and flattened his hands against the bulkhead. Jim sucked at the cockhead, and massaged the shaft and balls. Spock moaned softly and thrust instinctively. When Jim moistened one finger and inserted it, Spock cried out sharply.

Jim gasped for breath between strokes as Spock fucked his mouth. He knew that his throat was going to be sore in the morning, but he loved the taste and texture of the alien cock. He grasped the base of the cock to keep it from penetrating too deep and gagging him. When Spock froze, Jim was ready to swallow.

Moments later, he eased Spock back onto the bed. He kissed the tip of his softened cock and shifted so he could kiss the tip of his nose before he glanced at the chronometer. "Mitchell isn't the only one who's going to have a tough time on the bridge today." Jim sighed and flopped onto his back. "If it weren't already technically morning, I'd say that I was going to hate myself in the morning." He balanced on his side and reached out to stroke Spock's face, which wore an expression of complete relaxation. Spock didn't stir at the light touch. "I think I'd prefer to forget what happened last night. OK with you, Spock?" Without waiting for an answer, Jim rolled over, spooning against Spock's warm body.

He was already half-asleep when Spock's hand slid up to stroke his temples. Unexpectedly, the touch lacerated his skull with a sharp jolt of static electricity, but then the pain was gone. "What the hell was that?" he asked, but his question came out as a tired rumble before he relaxed into a deep sleep.

//////////

"What the hell was that, Spock?" Kirk's eyes flew open, and he stared at Sarek. He blushed and looked away. "I'm sorry, Sarek, but I . . ."

Sarek poured another cup of tea. "James, you must have known the nature of the memories that we would resurrect."

Kirk rubbed his hand across his chin. "How could I have forgotten that? I never thought of Spock as so . . . sexual." He shook his head. "Why don't I remember that?"

Sarek took a sip of his tea. "You said that you regretted what happened. You said that you wished to forget."

Kirk stared down into his cup. Was Sarek shocked by Spock's behavior? And which would he find more shocking: the sex or the apparent mindwipe? He gave no sign that he was shocked by either action.

"He made me forget? But that isn't what I meant when I said I wanted to forget." Kirk wanted to shout or hit something, but his voice came out in a whisper. "I wanted to forget about what Mitchell did." He took a sip of the tea. "And I did forget. I remember being uncomfortable with Mitchell, but I didn't remember the assault." Kirk shrugged. "Guess that explains why Spock knew what Mitchell was capable of." Kirk stood up and walked to the window. "Spock and I had been friends for only a month or so when we went to bed together."

"It seems early to you?" Sarek stood up to brew more tea. "When do you recall becoming lovers?"

Kirk walked over to the credenza and picked up the picture of himself with Spock. "Sarek, before I got Spock's message, I remembered him as my best friend. Before tonight, I didn't remember him in my bed." He pressed his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes. "I don't remember him kissing me. How could I forget that?"

"It is a pleasant memory?"

Kirk blushed and put down the picture. "Yes, of course." He sank down on the couch. "Sarek, I don't think this is such a good idea after all: retrieving memories of my sex life with your son."

"You are angry with him for taking those memories from you?" Sarek warmed his hands on his cup.

Kirk started to pace the room. "Yes, I suppose I am. How can he have shared . . . " He made a vague gesture in the air " . . . *that* with me and pretended that nothing happened? If he cared about me, don't you think that--"

"You will not forgive him?"

Kirk rubbed his jaw. "It's not that, Sarek. I can't explain." He stood at the door. "I do want to thank you, but I don't think I need the rest of the memories. Not right away." Kirk flashed a tired smile. "And when I retrieve the rest of them, I think that it's probably better for me to do it with Spock instead of with you, Ambassador."

Sarek's eyebrow climbed. "You are going to Vulcan?"

Kirk rested a hand on the doorframe. "I am. If only to clear up a misunderstanding from our first night together."

Sarek opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he closed it again. After a moment, he said, "Safe journey, James."

//////////

"Jim, your mind isn't on the game," Bob Wesley said as he shuffled the cards.

Kirk leaned his chair back, so he was balanced on the back legs. "No, I think I need to leave soon. I was out late last night at a reception at the Vulcan Embassy, and I didn't get much sleep."

Carol Wesley opened another beer. "A wild party at the Vulcan Embassy, Jim? Somehow I can't imagine it." She took a sip of the beer.

Grinning, Kirk said, "I didn't say it was a wild party. I just said it was a late night. Ambassador Sarek and I had a lot to talk about."

"I'll bet," Wesley said, dealing the cards. "Do you really want to transfer to Vulcan, Jim? I know that you're restless here at Starfleet Headquarters, but I can't imagine that heading up the detachment on Vulcan would be more interesting." He shrugged. "Of course, you know what we both need is a ship."

"Damn," Kirk said under his breath as he let the front chair legs down with a thump. He looked around the table at the curiosity on his friends' faces. "I fold," he said, dropping his cards on the table and standing up. At a surprised sound from Carol, he added, "I guess the cards are telling me pretty clearly that it's time to go."

Wesley stood up and followed him to the door. When they were alone, Kirk said, "What makes you think that I'm transferring to Vulcan? I'm planning to take shore leave there next week, but I didn't even know there was an opening at the base there."

"There isn't. Sarek wants one created."

A strangled laugh escaped from Kirk, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

Wesley said, "Jim, I didn't realize that Sarek didn't mention the transfer to you. What do you want me to do about the request? You know how important Vulcan is. Starfleet needs all the support that it can get."

Kirk picked up his coat off the rack. "Sarek hasn't been a big supporter of Starfleet in the past." He tried to keep his face smooth as he elbowed his way into the coat. "Just because my former first officer is half-Vulcan, Starfleet expects me to keep Vulcan happy?"

"Your former first officer?" Wesley crossed his arms on his chest. "Now come on, Jim. Everyone knows that Spock was more to you than just your first officer."

/////////

"He was my best friend, but he resigned his commission to join a monastery on Vulcan," Kirk said with more heat than he intended. He winced at the compassion on Wesley's face. "I don't know, Bob. There's something I need to do first before I make any more decisions about my life."

"I understand." Wesley stood in the doorway as Kirk walked down the steps. "Good luck, Jim."

Kirk walked the five kilometers to his apartment instead of finding a muni. It wasn't a bad night for San Francisco in the summer. Almost fifty degrees, and the fog wasn't all that thick. But it was a heck of a lot different than summer nights in Iowa. If he wanted heat, why didn't he just go to Iowa? It wouldn't be spring yet on the hemisphere of Vulcan where Gol was located, but it would already be unbearably hot. Oh, for the climate control of a starship!

He climbed the ten flights of stairs to his apartment instead of taking the lift. He recognized that he was hoping to wear himself out so that he would sleep tonight. Last night, it hadn't been all that late when he got home, but he'd stared at the ceiling until the dawn poked through the curtains.

Kirk paused next to the wet bar when he walked in, but shook his head, forbidding himself a drink. He kicked off his boots in the living room and continued into the bedroom, stripping off his uniform as he walked, leaving a trail of clothes through the apartment. He lived alone now, and no one would be coming by to catch him making a mess.

He threw back the covers, crawled in, and punched the pillow a couple of times before he closed his eyes.

//////////

Jim didn't look up from his computer when he heard the chime at the door. "Come," he said, touching the release.

"Captain." Spock stepped in and waited.

Jim gestured toward a seat, but his eyes remained on the screen, and his fingers tapped the keyboard. "I'll be with you in a minute, Spock."

"Are you aware of what time it is, sir?" Spock remained standing.

"Don't you have enough to do, Spock?" Jim said with a smile. "You're my first officer and my science officer. You don't need to pull triple duty as my alarm clock." Jim finally looked up and, as he did, his smile turned into a grimace, and his hand flew up to the back of his neck. "I was just going to say that I have a perfectly good chronometer, but now I'm wondering if I can turn my head to read it."

"Captain, if I may . . ." Spock moved around the desk and began to massage Jim's neck and shoulders.

Jim let out a low moan that could have been pain, but was mostly pleasure. "How the hell do you do it? That's exactly where it hurts." Jim leaned back into the touch. "Spock, you're doing quadruple duty as my massage therapist now?"

There was a smile in Spock's voice when he said, "As first officer, it is my duty to assist the captain in any way necessary to ensure optimal functioning of the ship."

Jim put up a hand to cover one of Spock's. "I won't tell McCoy, but I think you're treading in his territory here."

Spock's hand stilled for a moment but then resumed its kneading motion. "I have precise knowledge of human anatomy. It does not require a medical degree to relieve simple muscular pain." His warm hands continued to caress Jim's flesh. "Have you reported your condition to Dr. McCoy?"

"I think I wrenched it when we beamed over to that First Federation ship. The ceiling was low and . . . " He sighed and shrugged slightly.

"I do not intend to contradict you, sir, but I believe that the damage I find here is cumulative. Dr. McCoy would say that you carry the entire ship . . ." Spock's right hand slid up to rest on the nape of Jim's neck " . . . here, Jim. The doctor's words are somewhat fanciful, but there is some truth there. You have a great deal of responsibility, and if you fail to release your tension, it builds here to cause you pain."

Jim chuckled softly. "He's right. You're both right. But there isn't a lot I can do about that. The responsibility is mine."

Spock's hands moved again, stroking, gathering up tension and dispersing it. When Spock reached for the hem of his tunic, the breath stilled in Jim's throat. "You don't have to . . . " he said, but his touch felt too good to ask Spock to stop, so he held up his arms obediently to allow Spock to remove the tunic. Another moan escaped him as Spock's hands slid down to work the tension out of the middle of his back.

"Today, for example." Jim turned suddenly and looked up at Spock. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. When you--"

"When I recommended surrender, Jim?" A slight green tinge suffused his face, and his hands fell away from Jim's shoulders. "You were correct to reprove your first officer."

"No." Jim captured both of Spock's hands in his own. "I was too hard on you. McCoy calls you unfeeling, but sometimes you seem so vulnerable."

"Only to thee," Spock breathed. And then he closed his eyes. "Jim, I . . ." Still holding Jim's hands, he knelt beside Jim's chair before he opened his eyes again. "I came to request you to teach me to play poker."

Jim looked down into his first officer's dark eyes. "Poker? I thought McCoy offered to teach you." But a smile spread across his face.

Spock shook his head slowly. "McCoy can teach me nothing." He looked down at their joined hands. "What you did today to save the ship . . . " He shook his head again. "When we play chess or when I observe you analyzing a difficult tactical situation, I find that I cannot always follow your reasoning. But your conclusions are generally correct even if some would say you are not logical. You have a gift for arriving at a unique solution."

He almost stopped breathing when Spock raised his right hand and placed a soft kiss in the palm. "I admire your mind," Spock said quietly, his eyes holding Jim's.

"Oh, Spock, I . . ." Jim brought Spock's left hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. "You're amazing . . ." He felt a little foolish, not knowing what else to say. Spock was still on his knees beside Jim's chair and words seemed inadequate. It was much easier to lean over and kiss Spock's mouth lightly.

"Jim, please . . ." Spock murmured.

Jim froze. "You don't want . . .?" Jim cleared his throat, and stood up so quickly that he knocked over his chair. But Spock was blocking his only route of escape. "I'm sorry, Spock. I didn't mean to presume. You must think that I'm some kind of sex-crazed--"

"No, Jim." Spock stood up, too. "All is well." He moved gentle hands over the taut muscles of Jim's shoulders, and Jim was astonished to realize that his first officer was nearly a head taller.

"Spock." Jim closed his eyes and leaned against Spock. "You were impressed by what I did today, but the truth is, I was terrified. What if my bluff hadn't worked? What if I was wrong to go back and rescue the other ship? They could have been waiting to destroy us instead of testing our compassion."

"If you were wrong . . ." Spock's voice was a low rumble, and his hands slid down to encircle Jim's waist, pulling their groins together. " . . . we would not be standing here like this. But you were not wrong. And we are here. It is only logical to accept what is."

Feeling the bulk of Spock's erection rubbing against his own, Jim's mouth went dry. He couldn't think, and he wondered if he was going to faint. Now that would be embarrassing! Spock's hand was under his chin, tipping it up, and his breath was warm against Jim's lips. He opened his mouth, but instead of words coming out, Spock's tongue slid in.

He lost track of time as he stood in his work area kissing his first officer, tasting the alien spice of Spock's mouth, and clutching at Spock's biceps. He would have made a joke about needing a chronometer after all, but he didn't want to remove his tongue from Spock's mouth long enough to speak.

Spock's hands roamed over Jim's naked back before they went down to cup his buttocks, and then one long-fingered hand slid between them to trace the outline of Jim's erection.

"Spock," Jim gasped. "I'm going to come just like this if we don't stop."

Spock's hands shoved Jim away but then they gripped his shoulders. His pupils were dilated, so that his eyes appeared completely black. "You wish to stop, Captain?"

Jim shook his head but didn't trust himself to speak.

Spock nodded once and released him. He turned to walk into the sleeping area, appearing to assume that Jim would follow him. He did follow him. Spock sat down on the bed and bent to remove his boots. He looked up at Jim who stood with his back against the mesh divider. "I have said that I admire your mind, but I am also attracted to your body. Will you undress for me?"

Jim nodded mutely, and he used the toe of his right boot to push off his left boot and then his stockinged foot to remove the right boot. His eyes were still on Spock when he stooped to pull off his socks. His hands paused at the opening to his uniform pants. Spock's lips were slightly parted, and his dusky green tongue darted out to lick his dry lips. He stared at Spock's lips as he peeled down his pants and his briefs in one swift motion.

"Ah, Jim." Spock turned and opened a drawer in Jim's bedside table and extracted a vial of massage oil. He placed the vial on the bed beside him and stood up to pull his uniform tunic off his head. He paused to move his eyes over Jim's body, seeming to catalog every detail, before he pulled off his black thermal top.

"It's probably too cold in here for you, Spock," he said suddenly, and he walked back into the work area to raise the temperature ten degrees. When he came back, Spock was seated naked on his bed. He flushed at the sight of Spock's aroused cock. He'd seen his first officer unclothed before. Showering next to him in the ship's locker room after a workout. Landing party duty when they . . . He swallowed. Spock's aroused cock was larger than he'd imagined, the twin ridges flaring.

He walked over to the bed, and sank down on his knees between Spock's spread thighs. "You're beautiful," Jim said softly just before he placed a kiss on the tip of Spock's cock.

"Jim," Spock murmured as Jim began to slowly lick the length of the cock. "I want . . . " He gasped. "I want to feel you inside me."

"Oh, God, Spock." His hands caressed Spock's hip, massaged slowly along his finely muscled thigh, and kneaded the quadriceps. He thought of the power that was in these deceptively wiry muscles.

A smile curved Spock's mouth as he made the automatic response. "We require the intervention of no deity. I require only you."

"If you need me," Jim whispered against Spock's cockhead, "I won't deny you. I could never deny you anything." He tongued the slit, tasting the thick, sweet fluid that leaked out.

"I do need you." Spock pulled him to his feet, positioning him so he could take Jim's cock into his mouth.

He moaned at the heat and suction. He murmured a protest as Spock's mouth released him, but he squirmed pleasurably as Spock's fingers coated his cock and balls with the oil. He bit his lip as he watched Spock settle himself stomach-down on the bed.

Spock's voice was slightly muffled by the pillow when he said, "Other positions are possible, but for this first time, this would be the most efficient position for you to penetrate me."

"Spock," Jim said, "you're amazing." He knelt between Spock's spread thighs and filled his palm with more oil. Spock groaned softly and then more loudly when Jim gently inserted his index finger. "Don't let me hurt you. Tell me if it feels comfortable."

There was no sound in the room other than their breathing as Jim caressed Spock. When Spock began to push back against him more urgently, he carefully inserted the tip of his cock. He gasped as the heat enveloped him. The sound that Spock made was almost a whimper.

"Easy," Jim murmured, as he pushed in deeper, fighting for control. He stroked Spock's hips and made more soothing sounds as he slid in all the way. When he was completely buried, they both paused and low moans of pleasure started in both throats. Jim rested there for only a few seconds before he began to move. "Spock," he gasped, "how is that? Does it feel good?"

Spock writhed under him, and gasped, "I will never understand . . . oh, Jim . . . yes . . . more, please . . . your tendency to ask questions . . . oh, Jim. . . to which you already know the answer." He pushed back strongly, and Jim cried out and climaxed.

He eased himself down and kissed the back of Spock's neck. When he could breath again, he murmured, "Emotional security. Remember, Spock?"

He chuckled as Spock rolled them over, so that he was looking up into the warm, smiling eyes of his first officer. He glanced down and saw that both of their cocks were soft and nestled against each other. "Did you . . .?"

"It was most pleasurable," Spock said, his mouth curving up slightly.

"Me, too." Jim smiled. He stretched luxuriously. "And my neck feels pretty good, too." He rolled Spock onto his back and nestled against him, his head cradled on Spock's shoulder. "Do you mind if we postpone the poker lessons for another day, Mr. Spock? Maybe it would be fun to have McCoy join us." He stroked his hand down along Spock's thigh.

Spock froze. "Dr. McCoy? I do not understand, Captain."

Jim frowned. It seemed like the temperature of the room had dropped twenty degrees. "What's wrong, Spock? I know that you and McCoy don't always see eye-to-eye, but--"

"He is your friend, and, therefore, I must accept him." Spock squeezed his eyes shut.

"That's right." Jim sat up and stared down at Spock. "I can't believe that you would be so unreasonable about this." He shook his head. "I blamed Mitchell when you two weren't getting along, but now I wonder."

Spock's eyes flew open. "Your friendship with Dr. McCoy is important to you. As was your friendship with Gary Mitchell." He sat up. "I have no intention of coming between you."

Jim put out a hand to touch Spock's shoulder. "Relax, Spock. Everything is going to be fine between you and McCoy and me."

"Of course, Captain." Spock's agitation disappeared, replaced by his coolest, most-controlled expression.

Regretting the loss of the passion that had been in Spock's eyes earlier, Jim flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry. What we just did . . . well, it was special. I can't believe that we're arguing now." He covered his eyes with one hand. "Damn, I'm developing a killer of a headache."

Spock rolled over, propped himself on one elbow, and slid his fingers along Jim's temple. "Let me help. I can relieve your pain."

Jim nodded wordlessly. The slight pressure made him flinch at first, but after a moment the pain was replaced with numbness, and he yawned with exhaustion and relief.

"Sleep now, Jim," Spock ordered gently. "All will be well in the morning."

Continued in Part 2