Title: The Untold Want
Author: Nwakego
Feedback to: nwakego108 @ yahoo . com
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating:NC-17
Summary: Spock's rebirth brings new hope to Admiral Kirk's painful, unspoken love

THE UNTOLD WANT

Walt Whitman
"The Untold Want"

He made his way to the refresher.

"Computer. Illumination at 30%."

Under the dim glow he assessed his mirrored reflection objectively. His entire body was sheathed in a thin layer of perspiration, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair, unruly on any good day (and these were non-existent now), had fallen rebelliously into his eyes. These self-same haunted eyes that stared vacantly back at him, more a mossy green than their usual honeyed brown tones. The delicate tissue beneath appeared as if smudged with a light dusting of charcoal. His respirations remained labored and fleeting. His eyes widened as a sense of panic coursed through his veins, threatening to bring forth a fear such as he had never experienced, so brutal in its intensity that it would...

"No!" he whispered defiantly.

Pounding his fist into the countertop, he ignored the physical pain which was comparatively minor to the pain infiltrating his heart--a pain so searing that it ate away at his soul night after night granting no reprieve. This masochistic act seemed to bring him back an illusion of control.

"God help me," he rasped, "I hurt."

His mind reeled. *When would this torture end? Would it ever? *

"Will I ever feel whole again?" he gasped.

The stinging in his eyes manifested itself in a hot cascade of tears that fell ceaselessly onto upturned, open hands laying inert upon the countertop. Kirk doubled over.

"I can't go on like this. This will kill me."

Raw anguish pushed its way up through his throat and no matter how hard he fought against it, he was given no quarter. James Tiberius Kirk felt something give. Something broke, as surely as the sound of an eggshell cracking. He acknowledged that to resist was futile and in that moment of purest clarity and enlightenment, he knew. Knew that without Spock, he would never be the same again.

Kirk sank to his knees. The level of grief was such as he had never felt before. Finally, when he could no longer remain upright, he fell prostrate, sobbing into the cool, unfeeling floor. He bit into his closed fist praying that he could stop this relentless, unforgiving wave of torment, rending him asunder, but he could not stop the name that escaped his lips with each impassioned sob... "Spock, Spock, Spock!" Could not stop it until exhaustion finally took pity, enveloping him in the darkness' sweet embrace.

Warm chestnuts, sweet caramel, decadent chocolate, the deep, rich earth of the family farm in Iowa...this pure gaze evoked all these images and more. Concern and deep love were evident in those brown depths, granting succor to Kirk's tortured soul. He reached out tentative fingers to graze the outline of that beloved face, but as he neared, the vision began to fade. Kirk felt a degree of urgency as he strained to grasp the elusive image of his friend, but some invisible force continued to draw them apart, while an increasingly irritating sound began to insinuate itself into Kirk's consciousness. Hard as he tried to remain in this dream state, for within its dimensions he was no longer alone, the sound would not grant him reprieve. Still in a realm between sleep and waking, Kirk opened his eyes to a fleeting image of Spock's intense eyes, gazing lovingly into his own. Eyebrows arched inquisitively as if he awaited some response or reaction. Instinctively, his hand reached out of its own accord trying to make the dream a reality, but the figure eluded him and faded into sublime nothingness.

The urgent buzzing that had roused Kirk from his sleep continued, now, even more persistently than ever. Only then, did Kirk realize that he had passed the remainder of the night lying on his bathroom floor. Carefully easing himself up to his feet, he made hasty work of washing his ruined face with frigid water, sparing the briefest glance at a reflection that left little doubt as to how he had spent the night; and made his way towards the door.

"Come," he sighed.

The door had barely opened to his prompt when McCoy eased through hurriedly.

"Jim, I had to see..."

"Bones?" Kirk was immediately concerned by the sense of urgency emanating from his friend. "What is it Bones? What happened?"

"Jim, I'm so sorry to disturb you at this ungodly hour..." Kirk glanced at the wall chronometer: 04:52.

"...but I feel like I'm losing my mind here. You've always been my touchstone, my voice of reason." At Kirk's wry expression, McCoy reconsidered, "Okay, let me rephrase that. Even I will admit, when it came to reasoning, you took close second to our Vulcan friend." This evoked a faint smile from Kirk. Wearily he mused, it had been so long since he could make the effort needed to form even this smallest upsweep of these lips. *It hurt too much.*

McCoy smiled at Kirk wanly, his piercing, blue eyes mirroring the regret in Jim's. Running a flustered hand through his hair, he crossed the room and sank wearily into the comfortably overstuffed settee in the corner. Kirk followed, sitting next to his harried friend, concern evident in his face and in the hand that amiably rubbed Bones' tense shoulders.

"Bones just tell me what's got you so keyed up. You're wound tighter than the proverbial drum. What happened last night?" Kirk questioned.

McCoy met his friend's regard and seemed hesitant to proceed.

"Ah Jim, maybe I'm over-reacting. I shouldn't have just dropped by unannounced. Honestly, I'm just making a mountain out of a molehill. I'm sorry. Go back to bed. You need rest." He made as if to stand up. Kirk immediately deterred his egress.

"Oh no! You don't get to slink away that easily Mister. Now doctor, I want to know what in God's name triggered this unexpected visit of yours and why you're in such a damned hurry to avoid giving me a straight answer?"

Kirk waited. Uncertainty crossed the good doctor's expressive face.

"In case you didn't figure it out yet, that wasn't a request. It's an order!" Kirk stated quietly though emphatically. Bones knew he had no choice. Jim was an admiral after all, and it had been he, not Kirk, who had imposed, demanding this personal, pre-dawn audience. For the first time since his arrival, he took a moment to really look at his friend. Jim looked totally worn out. He had lost more weight, and not the healthy kind of weight-loss McCoy had always encouraged. This was a rapid decline, physically, mentally, spiritually. Yet still, Jim could evoke such deep empathy and compassion for others, even in this time of all-consuming grief. They had lost Spock only a mere five weeks before. The pain was still raw, especially for Jim. McCoy had always wondered why they never took that next logical step in their relationship. *Two blind bats could see there was real love there. Just made it seem all the more tragic...*

"Ah Jim, I'm so sorry. I'm a complete knucklehead plain and simple. I didn't even consider how you might be feeling. I just didn't know whom else to turn to. Once I tell you, you're going to think I've gone stark raving mad!" McCoy began to pace in the confining space that was the living room area, wringing his hands and continually raking his hair with nervous fingers. Finally, he stopped. Squaring his shoulders he came very close to Jim and in a tone, barely audible above a whisper, said,

"Jim, I keep hearing voices, no... a voice, in my head. I can't control it. Sometimes I hear it overpowering my own inner voice. I can't take it much longer. Jim, this will be hard for you to believe," he swallowed, "it's even harder for me..."

Kirk braced McCoy's shoulders with strong hands. He did not want to let on, but *Ye gods!* Bones was scaring him big time.

"Bones you know you can tell me anything. I will believe you. I will help you if I can. Let me try," he implored his friend.

McCoy looked into Jim's eyes, their depths pleading for his trust, and knew he had to come clean.

"Jim, the voice I hear is Spock's," he revealed breathlessly.

Kirk's world reeled. It was as if the Earth had violently spun on its axis, leaving her and everyone on her, off-kilter. He steadied himself. McCoy rushed on as if floodgates had been breached, and now,

there was no turning the tide. His words rushed out and toppled over one another as if they needed to spill out or evaporate into oblivion.

"Jim you've got to believe me.I don't know where else to turn.Who else to tell. It started the same day we launched Spock's body to Genesis.At first, it was just vague whispers ruminating through my skull, but as the days went on, the voice got louder and louder until...until it's almost like talking to you, but it's a conversation in my head!It won't stop and each day that goes by, I feel I'm losing more and more of myself. Losing ground, losing my identity...to Spock!"

"If you can't help me," he sighed, "I'll end up in meltdown mode, a complete basketcase."

Kirk could see his friend was truly affected. The cocky, confident physician, almost unerringly sure of himself and his skill (save for when a sick Vulcan, or one in the throes of pon farr came his way), was in unfamiliar territory and he was drowning. He was looking to Kirk to throw him a lifeline. What could he do to help him? He was so depleted within himself, stretched beyond his own limits and endurance. *Strange that a dead Vulcan had the potential to unnerve them both so utterly and devastatingly. *

Kirk was taken aback. He had actually mentally said the forbidden word, *Dead.* The previously unmentionable word now ran riotously in his brain. *Dead. So final. So hopeless*, he reflected. With some effort, Kirk managed to shrug himself out of his mental reverie. Haunted eyes stared back at him, bringing to mind a recollection of his own, as they were last night, reflected in the mirror. Curiously, Kirk felt oddly confident that he could help McCoy. Hopeless but ever hopeful. What was that old Terran adage?, he pondered, yes...Hope springs eternal.

"Jim?"

The familiar timbre of that beloved voice shook Kirk at his core. He had never thought to hear it ever again. At least, not in this lifetime. He felt he had become totally unhinged. There had to be some logical...*Control.*

Yes, Kirk resolved himself to fight for his friend, fight for McCoy's life and sanity, and for his own.

Kirk reached for McCoy's hands, clasping them within his own. "Yes," he affirmed, "Yes, Bones I will help you in any way I can, or die trying."

Sometime following McCoy's departure, Kirk attempted to invigorate himself enough to face the day ahead. He used the molecular synthesizer to make himself a hot steaming cup of coffee, so hot, that it burned his lips and tongue. He didn't care because it only served the more to remind him to breathe, to acknowledge he was still among the living. That he could still feel stimuli outside of himself. That pain could come from without as surely as from within.

Kirk made his way back to the refresher, undressed, and stood for an extended period, hands pressed against the wall, under the sonics. It proved to be yet another futile attempt to revitalize his body and mind. Afterwards, he stood naked again, in front of the mirror, further analyzing what he saw there.

"Computer. Illumination at 70%," he commanded sharply.

Even in the harsher light, he could not quite put his finger on it, but something was amiss. Kirk stepped closer to his reflected self, studying each and every feature. Consigning each to memory and comparing what he saw to his idealized former self. This self was lacking, but what...? Time came to a standstill.

He did not know how long he stood there perusing his reflection. A reflection towards which he felt no connection, from which he was completely disassociated. A stranger.

Then he was hit with an epiphany of disproportionate acumen; an all-encompassing singularity and clarity of vision...

His eyes. They were lackluster and flat. Eyes that had always been quick, alive, and warm, were now dead and cold. The fine lines that had given his face character, dimension, and accented the whimsical sparkle of his hazel eyes, had deepened. A testament to all that had transpired over the past five week, 35 days, 840 hours, 55,400 minutes without him. He pressed his forehead against the cool pseudoglass. Again, staring into those dead eyes. He had a wild impulse to smash his head into the doppelganger- image of himself, wanting to see the glass splinter into millions of fragments, echoing the glory of a star going nova. Maybe then he would feel something other than this godforsaken pain--even rage, remorse, resignation would be better than this purgatory. This hell of an existence!

*Illogical.* The word trickled its way into his consciousness.

Kirk turned his back on his false twin, and reached for the black Vulcan meditation robe hanging behind the door. Kirk had heeded an impulse to retrieve it from Spock's quarters shortly after the tragic incident that had permanently stolen Spock away from him. He shrugged into it, caressing the velvety fibers. It was wonderfully lightweight, yet very warm. A dichotomy of sorts, very much as Spock had been, for even with all his Vulcan resolve and control, he remained the tenderest being it had ever been Kirk's good fortune to encounter.

Kirk recalled how he used to wonder at the degree of Spock's undress underneath the folds of his robe. Now, he blushed hotly as his imagination supplied him with an image of a very naked, very aroused Vulcan.

Spock's numerous meditation sessions in front of his Vulcan god's firepot had imbued the fabric with a heady, lingering incense. Kirk pulled Spock's robe snuggly around his diminished frame, lifting its collar tautly over his face, deeply inhaling the myrrh-like scent left behind by his friend...no, his Vulcan...no, the man he loved from the instant he first laid eyes on him. The man to whom he had never confessed his love, nor the untold want that was eating him up from the inside out.

* I have been such a coward, fearful of rejection. If only...*

Dejectedly, Kirk made his way back to the kitchen area. Again, he touched its inky fabric tenderly. Many a night he had fallen tearfully asleep, wearing the robe and pretending it was Spock's arms around him. Consoling and loving him.

He stood very still now, looking out into space, cup in hand. Seeing nothing. Lost in thought. Kirk knew he would need to formulate a plan to help McCoy. Always the strategist, he was aware that if he could just remain focused, he could find a way to help Bones without bringing Star Fleet into the

whole darned mess. Something tugged at the recesses of his brain but he couldn't concentrate long enough to determine what it could be.

"Pull yourself together James Tiberius Kirk," he whispered, "you must remain strong for your crew. They're all relying on your leadership and example."

He placed the cup, gone cold, cold as his heart he imagined, on the desk, dressed, and headed for the bridge. Hours later, activated alert signals sounded indicating a security breach in Spock's quarters. Turning the comm over to Sulu, Kirk ran swiftly to the cabin, joined by his security team. He arrived just in time, it would appear, to catch McCoy who collapsed into his arms, but not before demanding that Kirk transport him home...to Vulcan! Kirk knew he was running out of time, fast.

Now, with McCoy safely transported to a medical facility on the Earth station, Kirk focused his energies on continuing to tie up loose ends. The last duty on his PADD list:

- Arrange for command team to spend time together in his quarters, on this, their last night aboard the Enterprise.

"To absent friends," he toasted, as they all raised their glasses in a fond salute.

The mood was somber, but there was an atmosphere of camaraderie that sustained and energized their reunion. They were content to have this one last time together. No one knew if, or when, they would have this opportunity again.

Their gathering was interrupted by a most unexpected visitor...A figure cloaked in a red hooded robe, intricately adorned with Vulcan symbols, stood in Kirk's open doorway. Kirk's eyes were met by those of a stoic, older, and almost regal replica of Spock. Kirk froze, as the deep brown eyes perused his countenance.

On this evening, Sarek's usual diplomatic aplomb eluded him.

"I would speak to you alone Kirk," he stated inflexibly. Obligingly, in deference to Spock's father, Kirk acquiesced, dismissing his officers. Alone, Sarek immediately took the offensive.

Kirk found himself sinking in the vortex of an emotional maelstrom, as he encountered Sarek's rancor. Shortly thereafter, Sarek requested his permission to engage in a mind meld, "I need your thoughts," he entreated. Kirk's pulse sped as he remembered the intimate melds he had shared with Spock. He did not want to share that connection with another; still, Kirk found he could not deny him.

* You should have brought him to Vulcan. * * He entrusted you with his very essence! * *? *

* His eternal soul. * * Your son meant more to me than you will ever know. *

< I have been and always will be your friend. >

* We were separated. He couldn't touch me! *

< Live long and prosper, Jim. >

* Spock's death is like an open wound. *

< The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. >

* "NO!" *

"I am sorry Admiral. His katra is not here," Sarek stated resignedly. The disconsolate look on James Kirk's face did not go unnoticed by the Vulcan. He made as if to leave when the alarm that had niggled at the edges of Kirk's consciousness, while in McCoy's company the night before, suddenly sounded loudly. * Yes. When he said "Jim" the way only one other had ever said it before. *

Turning to Sarek, Kirk questioned, "What if he joined with someone else?"

Together they viewed the light recorder visual monitoring device. Among the many painful images they observed--showing the events leading to Spock's death - a sequence was recorded, showing a decidedly determined Vulcan engaged in a mind meld with the clearly unconscious doctor; his rich, gentle voice whispering one solitary word against McCoy's temple, "Remember."

That evening, Kirk pledged his troth to Sarek, swearing to bring Spock's katra home to Vulcan. He was compelled to, for to do nothing, would cost him his own immortal soul

With assistance from Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura, Kirk was able to successfully appropriate McCoy from his forced confinement and shanghai the Enterprise with a course plotted for Genesis. They were fully aware that at the mission's end, they would surely face mutiny charges from Star Fleet. It was a risk they were more than willing to take to save both McCoy's life and Spock's immortal soul.

At one point, with only a skeleton crew at his disposal, Kirk found himself alone on the bridge. He found this solitude eerily comforting. Kirk's thoughts were in a tumultuous state of upheaval, and the humming silence of the warp drive engines actually gave him something tangible to hold onto. Now and again, in his mind's eye, images of his beloved First Officer were conjured up. A shadow of Spock at the Science Station looking up from the viewfinder, eyebrows raised, as his eyes plummeted the depths of Kirk's; or Spock standing comfortingly at his right shoulder. Ever present. Ever loyal.

Feeling suddenly weak, Kirk grasped the Captain's chair and offered up a silent prayer to his Beloved:

* We were separated. You couldn't touch me. How I wished for it. How I wished for your mind melding with mine. Physically and mentally, I yearned for that last kiss goodbye. I wanted to hold you in my arms. To feel against my brow, your last breath's whispered escape. Did you know? Could you sense it? This undying love I have for you? I wanted to hold you forever and more. Hold you against me for all the world to see. Hold you until I breathed my last too, still within your cold embrace, following you into eternity, much as you followed me in life. *

Kirk breathed in deeply and walked to the Science Station, running a finger lightly over the console.

*You sacrificed yourself for the Enterprise, for her crew, for me. *

"The need of the many...," Kirk gasped.

* I left the noblest part of myself on that newborn planet. My unquenchable need is you. Now, I must bring you home. Your katra demands it of me, and is as essential to me in death , as it was in life, housed in your exquisite body. I will guard your soul with my own, keeping your spirit safe in this heart that beats only for you. I promise, soon, I will be with you again on Vulcan where you will finally find the peace you so richly deserve. *

An odd tingling sensation reverberated at the base of Kirk's skull, barely registering. Kirk sighed, his soul mired in regrets, his heart engulfed in primal pain. He knew his own peace, that is, his peace of mind, would not be as swiftly forthcoming. A tremor coursed through his body, sending aftershocks straight through his soul. He closed his eyes in response, enviably long lashes shimmering with unshed tears. He would not do this now. He could not yield. He had to succeed. Too much was at stake to consider doing otherwise.

The mission was a success...but at what cost?!!

Yes, they had survived, having commandeered a Klingon Bird of Prey vessel, and had reached their destination of Vulcan. Yet, his son, David, was dead; the Enterprise destroyed by his own hand; Spock's body retrieved, but his mind an empty chasm; the Grissom lost with all hands; and he and his officers were soon to face public disgrace and humiliation at Star Fleet's whim, and a court-martial to boot!

Kirk sighed resignedly for he knew their mission could not have been accomplished by any other means. There had been no other alternative at their disposal; but would regrets taunt him to the end of his days?

David's loss tore irretractably at his heart. How much more could he lose? There was nothing left that could be taken away from him. Everything he cared about, everyone he had ever loved had been sacrificed, like lambs to the proverbial slaughter. He was cursed. *No, just so tired!* He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, dragged down by an all-consuming mantle of grief and pain. Kirk's mind flashed to the Bard's quote:

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

Kirk shuddered, still contemplating upon his current desperate state,

* Will all my remaining days signify nothing? *

Now, they were atop Mount Seleya, awaiting the high priestess of healers' pleasure, as she attempted to do that which had not been done for almost a millennia. The Fal-Tor-Pan or Refusion. Both Spock's and McCoy's lives hung in the balance. It was a highly risky endeavour. They could both be lost to him forever. If God forbid, they were taken away, Kirk knew he could not, would not survive.

The only impetus which allowed him to breathe in and out and in again, forcing each concurrent heartbeat, was hope...hope that his Spock, and McCoy, would come back to him. He turned away from his fellow officers. Kirk could not allow them to fully witness the depths of his distress and trepidation. His life had become a never-ending cycle of unrelenting pain. His devastation was complete.

* I hurt. I hurt. I hurt. * The words ran through his mind like a damned mantra. For the first time in his life, Kirk simply gave up. He unequivocally surrendered. "God help me," he prayed. "I have no control. Our fates lie with you." For himself, Kirk asked for one thing alone, the cessation of his beating heart should Spock die...again.

Hours later, as the awe-inspiring dawn of Vulcan's cruel red sun broke upon the horizon spreading its hot rays over Vulcan desert sands; rapidly elevating the temperature, so much so that hazy waves were evident in the thick, stagnant air, the high priestess descended the elevated altar where McCoy and Spock had undergone the extensive ritual, carried down on an elaborate litter and followed in close succession by her virginal healers - who Kirk observed, seemed to be in a perpetual trance-like state. Close behind was McCoy who promptly assured Kirk he was "fine". Kirk smiled back in response, then sobered as his eyes sought out Spock. When he finally caught sight of him, Kirk's heart leapt of its own volition. A sweet joyfulness seeped through him, surprising him no end, for weeks ago, he had resigned himself never to feel that particular emotion again. At least not in this lifetime.

A procession, led by Sarek and a contingent of white-robed priests, was next to make the descent; in their wake was his beloved friend. His beautiful face was downcast but Kirk could see that its angular planes had bourne the brunt of the painful rigors of dramatic aging on Genesis.

Initially, Kirk was crestfallen as Spock passed him by without a word, the ascetic visage hidden by his lowered hood, acknowledging neither Kirk, nor his crewmates. Gifting them with not so much as a sidelong glance.

Suddenly, Kirk recalled a quote he had heard while Earthside. One particular morning, in his quest to appease an appetite for all things ancient and rooted in Terran culture, he had found himself at the Terran Visual Arts Museum, where he had been fortunate enough to view a computer digitalized feature in their archives. The image, originally captured on flexible materials coated with a silver halide substance, and called film, told a tale of star-crossed lovers. Now, the words came unhindered to his thoughts:

*"Don't let's ask for the moon--We have the stars."*

Traces of a smile briefly made themselves visible upon Kirk's lips as he recalled the title of that particular film in his mind's eye--* Now Voyager. *

*How apropos! ,* Kirk grunted at the irony. Well, at the very least, he reminded himself, Spock is alive. Resurrected! The greatest of miracles had come true. Who was he to demand more? Whether together, or forever parted, his fondest wish had been granted. Surely this was enough?

Kirk watched as Spock progressed up the white steps that had been carved into Mount Seleya's red stone cliffs. Suddenly, he came to an immediate halt. Slowly, turning back, he pulled the hood away from his face, fully revealing the strong aquiline features Kirk loved so. Without turning, the priests instinctively stopped their ascent and waited as Spock approached the Enterprise crew, hesitating as he looked closely into the eyes of each one. Finally, he gazed into Kirk's eyes. What he found there seemed to immediately take his breath away, and a flicker of remembrance ignited in those dark orbs.

The lightest touch, like gossamer wings, fluttered in Kirk's chest, his respirations shallowed involuntarily, and his mind tingled as his heart beat in double time. Kirk wanted to lose himself in those observant eyes. If only he could reach out and touch this man, his soulmate, but he knew this was not the time. He was conspicuously aware that Spock was a touch telepath and had undergone sufficient strains and rigors over the past days, enough to last a lifetime, without now having to deal with Kirk's uncontrollable urges and emotions.

A wave of desperation assailed Kirk's senses. He had to force himself to calm down, though his mind and body, and every nerve ending begged for Spock's touch. He was splintering right there in front of this Vulcan. He knew he must not let Spock see. He must not reveal this unrelenting despair, this untold want. Kirk cried inwardly. He needed to assuage this ceaseless pain. He needed Spock in his mind, in his body. He wanted to fall adoringly to his knees, kiss Spock's feet, and cry in his arms, while offering his hands, his lips, his entire body to do him homage. All he would ask in return was Spock's love and one thing more...his solemn pledge never to leave him again.

Kirk chastised himself even as these images, unbidden, inundated his brain. Spock would never be able to reciprocate. Emotions were abhorrent to him. If he knew Kirk's heart's desire, he would flee never to return. Kirk resolved himself never to tell him. It would have to be enough to love Spock from afar. Now, how he would survive? That was the only question remaining.

As Spock passed the strangers and began his ascent up the stairs, to the meditation chambers where he would undergo an extensive period of self-healing, aided by the priests and priestesses of Mount Seleya, he felt what could only be described as a mental caress. This stopped him as surely as if he had

been physically restrained. He sensed a viable energy, strong emotions that triggered the faintest recollections, and yet, were powerful enough to draw him away from even the healers.

Spock turned and assessed the Vulcan and the humans who were staring at him with what could only be described as ill-repressed anticipation. He did not want to get too close to them because the emotions they were emitting, though warm, were overwhelming. Spock could feel them without the benefit of touch, and this caused him some considerable degree of anxiety and consternation. Nonetheless, something, someone, was drawing Spock inexorably to him.

As Spock closed the distance between them, a connection, much like an electrical conduit flowed between Kirk and himself. Spock knew this particular human was special and sensed he could not afford to turn away from him, not if he wished to fully heal his mind, body, and soul. This human had the answers he sought. This being was crucial to that end...but how?

The hazel eyes looked deeply into his own. Spock was struck by the beauty and intensity of their color. Then an unknown force struck Spock at his foundation. He controlled an impulse to touch those eyelids. Those amazingly long lashes. He had the illogical urge to kiss them closed and to lick away the salt tears that shimmered within their depths. Who was this man to him? Why would he, a Vulcan, want to run his fingers along that noble jawline, inhaling the fresh scent of wind and sun exuding from his hair; hold him in an eternal embrace, and luxuriate in those eyes? Wanting nothing else but to bring a smile to them and to calm those quivering lips with his own?

Spock spoke. "My father..." At first the words came out hoarsely, roughly. He did not recognize it. *His own voice! Gods!* He did not even know who he was save for what his father had already told him. Spock knew the information was there, just beyond his grasp, lying dormant in his mind, but he needed the keys to unlock it. His inner voice told him that this human standing before him was the first, and most crucial key of all. Spock began again,

"My father told me you have been my friend. You came back for me."

The human replied in the affirmative. Spock felt a tremor quake in his mind.

Next, Spock asked the human, "Why?" The human's response was, "The needs of the one outweighed the needs of the many."

* Illogical. * Spock began to turn away. He needed time to reflect, to further assess the situation. Needed to contemplate this turn of events, but just as he made to take his leave, the first lock fell away.

Memories raced in.

He turned back, "Jim. You are Jim," he stated haltingly.

A sensation of pleasure and joy suffused his mind and radiated correspondingly from Jim's eyes.

* Jim was light. Jim was life. Life. His life! On the ship. His place at this man's side. The ship. Yes, the ship, the Enterprise!* Spock inquired, "The ship--out of danger?" Again, Jim answered, "Yes."

They now stood very close to one another. Spock could feel love and longing flowing forth from this man. He wanted to bask in that light, in that warmth, in that bottomless energy.

These others, they were no longer strangers to him either. The humans had served this captain

alongside him. The Vulcan, Saavik, had helped him survive the ordeal on Genesis. Irrationally, he felt the truth of it in his bones. She had comforted him in his despair.

He owed them all a vast debt of gratitude. Spock needed them as much as he needed the healers, perhaps moreso. Overall, he needed Jim. Something in his mind warned him of the illogic of his

thoughts; but he did not care. He would not heed the signals that flared. Now, Spock sensed the healers beckoning him to follow.

Spock's awareness increased as he felt his friends surround him. Dr. McCoy, Mr. Scott, Commanders Uhura, Chekov, Sulu and Saavik, their happiness and relief evident as they touched him briefly. Jim remained at his back. Even now, serving as his guardian and protector. Then Jim touched him...

That warm hand sent a jolt through Spock's body, straight to his heart, and was no less effective than a thunderbolt, exquisite and overwhelming, love in its purest form. Undeniable in its intensity, emotions consumed him and set him aflame. Intrinsically, Spock knew they had not yet been lovers, not in the physical sense. Nonetheless, his entire body reacted to that touch. Wanton images bombarded his mind, leaving him atremble. The arousal he felt warned of complete devastation. Passions ignited. He wanted to utterly ravish this beautiful creature standing before him; throw him to the ground; tear off his garments; and force his tongue into his throat. To force his will, his body, his lust upon him, over and over again until he begged for mercy.

Spock wanted to drown in those eyes, nip at his Terran ears, keeping their fingers entwined as he ravaged Jim body and soul. Instinctively, he reached his hand out to return the touch, but stopped himself a hair's breadth away from his quarry. For he knew, if he touched Jim, he would be forever lost. All reason would flee and he would possess him in front of all who had eyes to see. He was a raging sea of want, replete with fathomless desires that only Jim, his t'hy'la, could soothe.

At this moment, something else stayed Spock's hand. He sensed an unbelievably deep sense of loss. Such a wellspring of pain existed in Jim, that the Vulcan would find it difficult, if not impossible, not to submit to its onslaught. How could Jim stand this hurt? Its intensity was paralyzingly soul-destroying. Spock knew with undeniable certitude, that Jim needed him. Would need him even more, very soon.

First, Spock acknowledged he must give himself over entirely to the healers' care. With their help, he could fortify himself. Heal enough to repair the void left between his immortal soul and body. Only then, would he be of any use to Jim. Otherwise, at this stage, Jim's pain would engulf them both. Spock needed to be his anchor and the only way to accomplish that would be to forge himself in the fires of Vulcan through discipline and meditation. Similarly, Spock knew there was no time to spare. Unquestionably, Jim would break if left alone much longer. Jim needed him. Needed him open and unshielded and willing to love him unquestionably. Spock knew he had come to love this man the moment he first came aboard the Enterprise, as her Captain, and that he would love him till the end of time. He wanted Jim to find refuge in his embrace. He wanted to hold Jim forever, but first...He must hurry.

Before he could take his leave, words; thoughts; and images - some real, others vastly surreal infiltrated his heart and mind:

"Your son meant more to me than you'll ever know!" / Jim kneeling before him, embracing him, his face lovingly rubbing against his groin. / Spock's answering hardness. / Jim kissing him. / "My noblest self..." / * I will do anything. Give up everything. Even sacrifice her--the Enterprise--for you. * / * Hair so black. So beautiful. * / Jim's hands in his hair whispering words of love into his ear.

The feelings engendered by Kirk's thoughts were simply intoxicating!

"Kaadiith!," Spock hissed. These feelings inundated and overwhelmed him. He must go before it was too late.

Spock withdrew, saying,

"I must leave you." He saw the answering despair in Jim's eyes. Spock erected his shields. "I will remain... *His Eyes*... with the healers. I have much work to do...*His Pain *... before I can recover my memories and strengthen my reserves." Spock saw the visible change as Kirk retreated behind his commander-in-chief faŤade. Even though Kirk had continued to smile at Spock, the light in his eyes had all but extinguished itself. Spock almost gave in to a sublimely illogical impulse to shake Jim until his teeth rattled, and demand that he bring it back. He knew his friend was dying inside. Slowly, agonizingly, per sec by per sec. The downward spiral had recommenced at an accelerated rate. Spock forced himself to continue. "My father's house...*His Want *... is open to you for the remainder of your stay. * Please stay!*

Concealing his agitation and consciously choosing to look at Kirk alone, he gracefully raised beautifully elegant fingers in the Vulcan gesture of blessing and farewell, "Live Long and Prosper." *I love you. * Their eyes held. Spock had to force himself to disengage from those eyes. * Hazel Eyes.*

Without further ado, Spock raised his hood, turned, and followed the healers to the meditation chambers. Kirk observed that retreating gracefulness of movement until he could follow no longer. He barely contained the words that fought to break free. The words: "Don't go! Please don't leave me...again!" Instead, he held the faint, frozen smile on his lips and retreated with the others to Sarek's abode.

Days, then weeks went by with no sign of Spock. Star Fleet had been notified of the whereabouts of its errant Admiral and his wayward crew. Now, it was only a matter of time before the hammer fell. Court martial was imminent. The only thing delaying it had been Ambassador Sarek's intervention on their behalves. It was agreed they would stay long enough to assure themselves of Spock's recovery. Soon thereafter, they would be obliged to take the next starcruiser to the nearest Star Base. It was explained in crystal clear detail that any further delay hitherto, would result in Star Fleet's intervention; their arrest; and immediate transport via starship to the nearest penal colony pending prosecution. *So much for the philosophy of IDIC,* Kirk deliberated.

Kirk was drained. He spent his nights tossing and turning as sleep continued to elude him. When he did sleep, rest was short-lived as he was inundated with images of his being torn away from his love,

a partition erected between them, denying touch, heat, a loving embrace. Abandoned, to contend with the depths of his despair.

His days were spent thinking of Spock or David, or assuming the role of capable captain, encouraging his crew and lifting morale. Evenings were spent taking long walks in the cool night of Vulcan's deserts, in the hopes that he might exhaust himself enough to fall into a dreamless sleep. Yet, the nightmares continued their vicious cycle, providing him with no peace.

Eventually, Kirk could no longer bear to see the concern for his well being, etched in the faces of his crew. It was apparent they feared for his sanity. It was not a matter of if, but when. He knew it.

They knew it.

He continued to spend countless hours looking at the stranger in the mirror. As each day passed, the stranger looked less and less like him. Kirk's hair had grown, he no longer cared to keep it from falling over his eyes. The weight continued to fall off him. He could no longer force himself to eat. Kirk did increase his fluid content, solely because the desert climate on Vulcan demanded as much. Afterall, he was not suicidal, * much as that differed with the popular consensus*. Even Sarek and Saavik began to cast looks of concern in his direction. Lady Amanda provided him with regular reports on Spock's progress, whenever possible. Kirk eagerly looked forward to these. When not doing that, she would spend her time coaxing him to take in bits of sustenance in one form or another: a fruit here, a salad there.

Kirk tried to give McCoy a wide berth but was finding it harder and harder to avoid the good doctor. He endured regular chastisements and mutterings about "pulling yourself together before I get it in mind to hand you over to one of those so-called Vulcan healers." When that didn't work, there were threats of alerting Star Fleet "that you are slowly losing your marbles." The latter usually resulted in Kirk forcing a few bits of food down his resisting throat; or joining his crew in inane conversations, rather than sitting alone in somber silence, a pastime he much preferred.

How could he explain to McCoy that he hurt and no food, no medicine, nothing in this galaxy or beyond, would suffice to alleviate this pain! Only one thing could help him and he knew who that one thing was, but he was powerless to do anything about it.

Kirk needed to distance himself from his concerned friend and his well-intentioned crew. He was suffocating. Their proximity and care had also taken a toll. He sought distance.

The next day, soon after daybreak, Kirk received his dose of tri-ox compound, fabricated some feeble excuse to explain away his pre-meditated absence, and set off alone for parts unknown. He needed the physical exertion to occupy his mind. A climb up Mount Seleya should serve his purposes well, he surmised.

As Kirk climbed, he noted the sublime beauty of the desert expanse below. It simply took his breath away, figuratively speaking. Looking down along the arid vista that lay before him, he was beginning to suspect that his life was infinitesimally insignificant in the universal scheme of things. This introspection was not entirely unwelcome.

Kirk wished he could share the experience with Spock, bearing witness to Spock's expected and new-found appreciation for his homeland, and seeing the glint of pride in that brilliant regard. Yet, this scorching desert vista that lay before him, beautiful as it was, offered only cold comfort. Kirk craved that deliciously addictive heat that constantly radiated from Spock's body. He hungered for him. He was still in the throes of a voracious need; the wanting would not release its hold. It continued. Unrelenting. Unappeasable.

* Spock, my Beloved. * Kirk yearned for him with every cell and fiber of his being.

" Spock, my Beloved. " Spock was deep in meditation when that same phrase broke without warning, into his meditative trance and out through his lips. He recognized the voice that called out to him. He felt the immense desperation coming from his t'hy'la. Spock knew he must go to Jim without further delay. He also realized he still had much work left to do for his own healing, and that his full recovery

would take many months, if not years, but he had acquiesced to his healers' demands over several sennights, with only minimal success. Now, many of his memories remained barred, walled-off, somewhat like a levee, impeding his progress. Yes, here and there, there were visible breaches where the river of his mind leaked free, but the triumphs were minor. He had lost much. Obstacles, like stones, still lay ahead, placing hurdles in his path, but he would no longer allow them to obstruct his path to his thy'la.

To Spock's mind, this situation was intolerable. Jim needed him and he desperately needed Jim in return. (Afterall, he had had greater breakthroughs in the brief time he had been at Jim's side!) The healers put no stock in the feelings Spock held for Kirk. To them, these emotions were a distraction at best, a destructive force at their worst. If permitted, they would have excised the thread so delicately bonding Spock's mind with Kirk's. As far as they could see, no good could come of it. Yet, as Spock grew stronger, one thing became increasingly obvious. The bond with Jim strengthened exponentially. Spock collected his thoughts and directed all his energy towards the bond, alerting his thy'la that he was coming, to have patience, for he would be with him very soon.

Kirk felt him. The tingling sensation at the back of his head, intensified and vibrated through his entire being. As he stood on a ledge near Mount Seleya's summit, he felt Spock! Spock was near. He was well. Suddenly, Kirk was suffused with an indescribable warmth. It felt as if Vulcan's sun had invaded his veins, injecting him with the purest rays of its light. The feeling was so intense that he climaxed standing there alone on the highest and most revered mountain on Vulcan! No words could describe that delicious heat. It was as if his entire body was covered, engulfed and consumed by

Spock. Wondrously, Spock's scent even infiltrated Kirk's senses, an intoxicating blend of sand, cloves, cinnabar, and myrrh fleetingly penetrated his nostrils and filled him with delight.

Kirk envisioned Spock kneeling before him, stroking and caressing his sensitized scrotum, his penis totally engulfed by his Vulcan's hot, famished mouth. Kirk felt he had died and been reborn in that welcoming haven.

"Heart of my heart, wait for me." Kirk heard the words as clearly as he would had Spock been standing beside him, whispering in his ear.

"Soon?," he begged. "I can not wait any longer. Please Spock, I need you with me. I want you so much!" Kirk heard and felt the urgency of his own plea, but he no longer cared. He knew. Spock would grant his greatest desire very, very soon.

The mouth caressed his face lovingly, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses in its wake. Intense adoration was lavished on the closed eyelids, the beautiful lashes fanning out along their edges fluttered imperceptively. A hot tongue licked at the brows, cheeks, mouth, jaws, ears, and finally concentrated its attentions on those eyes. Beckoning them to open; to reveal the hazel depths concealed beneath.

Kirk was immersed in sensation. This was the most beautiful dream. Spock was loving him, showing

him an all-consuming love that left flames in its wake. He had wanted this for so long. He wanted more. He wanted those lips on his own. He wanted that tongue to violate his mouth, granting him no escape, no reprieve. Once done, he wanted Spock's cock to follow suit. This wanting was uncontrollable. Kirk feared that the more he received, the more he would want, until nothing, not even

Spock, could fill this awful desire in his shredded heart.

* Oh please, no. Not yet! *, he pleaded as his dream lover began to fade away. The words, previously withheld, expelled themselves vehemently from his lips as he cried, "Please Spock, don't go! Don't leave me again!" Kirk reached out and was immediately awake, but found he was still in the throes of the dream, for that hot mouth was still there, lapping at his eyes, kissing away his sorrows. He slowly opened them and focused his gaze.

This was no dream! Spock was here with him, completely naked underneath his open meditation robes, black having replaced the white ones he had worn when Kirk had seen him last. He was absolutely stunning and the image of this beautiful being, straddling Kirk's engorged erection, nearly undid him. Here Spock was, hair, blue-black and gleaming in T'Khut's silvery beams, lavishing him with kisses and licking away the tears that fell from his eyes. Taking away a litany of sorrows, one by one. Their erections strained against each other as if engaged in some absurd swordplay. Ephemerally, an indescribable elation filled Kirk's mind. When he attempted to speak, Spock stopped him, pressing his mouth firmly upon his own.

Spock's mind spoke to his:

* This is for you alone. No one else in this universe matters. Only you. *

Kirk's hazel eyes stared disbelievingly into Spock's.

* Close your eyes! * Spock's command infiltrated the tangled threads of his mind.

* Close them and let me take care of you. I want to love you, kiss you, free you from this veil of tears. *

Kirk could not believe what was happening. Had he finally lost his mind? No, Spock was indeed here with him, * like this! * Speaking these incredibly passionate words. * To me! *

"Trust me?," the deep Vulcan voice beseeched shakily.

At this last request, Kirk gasped, body trembling visibly as he closed his eyes and relinquished all control to this man, his lover, and soulmate. How could he not trust this man who was his love and his life? Any resolve he possessed, melted away in the heat that was Spock. Trails of tears culminated underneath closed lids, spilling from their corners, over his ears and into his hair. Spock saw and began to lick them away.

"Please Jim, I am here now. Do not resist. Give them to me. Give me all your hurts. I will be your solace," he whispered lovingly into Kirk's ear.

The pressure that was mounting in Kirk's chest was too much. Finally, he knew he could let go. He trusted it would not kill him, not with Spock here. Not while immersed in his love. A soul-wrenching whimper escaped from his throat and culminated in sobs of such magnitude, that he was sure his heart would sever in two. Spock continued his ministrations, murmuring ancient, multi-syllabic, Vulcan

words in his ears, as he continued to rub his groin against Kirk's, as he caressed him with long, masterful fingers and continued to kiss every millimeter of Kirk's countenance.

At first, Kirk could not understand the words of endearment being whispered to him, but he knew they were filled with love of him. The flow of tears that had threatened to totally overwhelm him, continued, yet the intense sobbing slowly abated. Spock's fingers caressingly found the meld points on this face he loved above all else. Kirk leaned into the touch. He had yearned for it for so long. And then, the portal opened between them, not gently as with the previous meldings, but with a pure exhilarating flood of intensity that violently stole his breath away. Spock's love pierced his heart with laser precision. Suddenly, the meaning of Spock's words came to Kirk's mind freely and uninhibited.

* Jim, I want to bring you love beyond measure. Love without limits, or conditions. I want to cleanse you of all unhappiness, ease your suffering, wash away your tears and unburden you of your pain. I want to bring you hope everlasting. *

These words, spoken in Ancient High Vulcan, communicated the deepest devotion and commitment. Spock relayed his ardent wish to join with Jim physically and psychically. His need to be one with Jim, now and always. Told of his intention to kiss every millimeter of Jim's cool flesh and of his desire to invade every orifice, permeate every cell. Spock expressed his fervent need to feel Jim's touch, his mouth, open on his. To be submerged in the depths of his lover's soul and body, and of his desire to see that light, that was Jim, burn again in his Beloved's eyes.

At Spock's beckoning, Jim opened his eyes to his truest love. Surcease permeated his soul. In his mind's eye he envisioned Spock's tragic death; the loss of his son; the sacrifice of his first love, the Enterprise. He surrendered each memory over to Spock's loving care. Spock, in turn, shared every pain; every loss; honored and shrouded them each in acceptance, peace, and love, before returning them to the safekeeping of Jim's resurrected heart.

Kirk gasped as unimaginable pain flared briefly and then diminished within the hidden chambers. He was permeated with a new-found sense of peace. He had attained some semblance of release. For the first time in a long time, Kirk knew he would truly survive. He clung to Spock, holding him tightly to himself. Held him as if his very life depended on it. As long as Spock was by his side, he could live again.

Spock lessened the intensity of their bond, as the contact between their bodies increased. Yet, Kirk could still clearly hear Spock's thoughts.

* Now thy'la, thou art mine for all time. Give thyself to me. Surrender. I promise thee, if it lies within my power, I will never do thee injury again. *

The friction between their bodies increased as Spock rubbed against him over and over again. Jim felt Spock's thoughts continue through their bond,

*Jim, with this body I thee worship. *

A drawn out moan eased from Jim's panting lips. He felt all tension ease out of him. His hands were grasped and pulled up alongside his head. Hot Vulcan lips caressed his right palm, the molten mouth engulfing each individual finger in languorous caresses. Moving from hand, to wrist, to arm; to his

shoulder to traverse his throat, exacting an onslaught of ravishing kisses and love bites. Just as eagerly, Spock exacted the same toll on the other corresponding limb.

Kirk closed his eyes again and sighed as Spock continued marauding his body. Chest, navel, thighs, feet, were all subjected to similar treatment as Spock followed each and every intimate touch with caressing lips. Kirk felt as if he was indeed the subject of worship. He tried to remain motionless and submit totally to Spock's attentions. He was doing quite well, or so he thought, until all his controls were cast to the four winds the moment Spock took his cock in his gorgeous mouth. Pure mind-disrupting rapture destroyed and recreated him over and over again.

There were no thoughts only feeling. He bucked involuntarily into that hot vacuum, wanting Spock to take more and more of him. Every suck, every lick tore away every shred of his imagined control. He wanted this to never stop, to go on forever and ever. Salty juices escaped uninhibited from his rigid member. Spock held Jim's hips firmly to him and savored every drop.

"Spock please...don't stop, don't stop ever," Kirk urged.

*T'hy'la, I will stay right here until you find your release. I love you. Remember, thou art mine. I want to taste more of thee. Come for me. *

With Spock's thoughts in his mind, Kirk felt his penis throb. His heartbeat echoed in that throbbing lance. It was so hard, engorged beyond imaginings. Spock was doing this to him, cupping his testicles, eliciting these primal responses. Kirk was soaring with sensation. Without warning, his mind short-circuited. He saw sparks, flame. He smoldered and ignited.

* Free. My God I am Free!* his mind exulted. Then an explosion of the senses, followed by sweet darkness.

When Kirk regained conscious thought, he found his body was totally covered by Spock's. Spock's lips moved against his throat and jawline, depositing loving kisses. Indulging himself, Kirk laced his fingers into Spock's silken tresses, as he had longed to do for so long. He stared in wonderment as he watched the erstwhile raven strands caress his fingers in turn. Strength, softness, and passion all present in the form of his thy'la who trusted him enough to risk revealing his own profound love for him. Kirk was suddenly overcome with tenderness and held Spock firmly against him. This man was so precious to him, his treasure.

* A pearl without price...or in this case, an emerald. *

Then their gazes met and held. Time froze around them. Spock must have sensed Jim's thoughts because he blushed a most exquisite shade of green, straight through to the tips of those irresistible ears.

Kirk pulled Spock's face to his, kissing him deeply. Insinuating his tongue in Spock's receptive mouth, tasting him, relishing in the merged flavors of both. Spock's answering tongue was drawn into Kirk's mouth, suckled and nipped. Their breathing increased, hands reveling in the sensations of cool and hot flesh pressed up against each other. Kirk's hand ran soothingly along Spock's side, feeling the Vulcan's erratic heartbeat. A heart beating for him alone.

Kirk could not form the words to ask Spock for that which he now needed, but he sensed Spock already knew.

"Jim, are you certain?," Spock asked, his voice heavy with concern for him. He lovingly touched Kirk's lips, swollen from the intense kisses Spock had bestowed upon them. "My thy'la?" , Spock questioned again. Kirk nodded. Reflexively, Spock kissed Jim gently and separated from him long enough to allow Kirk to turn and lie upon his stomach, then he again covered Jim's body with his own.

Spock was indeed a fair lover. Kirk's back received the same tender consideration as his front had. Kisses were lavished over every surface of his exposed skin. He sighed in contentment, thrilling to Spock's touch. Spock was focused solely on his pleasure, to the exclusion of all else. Kirk now knew how it felt to be the subject of Spock's undivided attention, very much like one of his delicate lab experiments. That singularity in focus consumed like an inferno. How could he have wasted all those years, aimlessly searching for love and not have realized that love in its purest form had been right under his nose, right there on the Enterprise, in the beautiful form of his most superior and devastatingly handsome First Officer. It was only after losing Spock that he had been able to admit to himself, just how desperately he loved him. What a complete fool he had been!

Spock's thoughts broke through the cycle of self-recriminations, circling viciously in Jim's mind. Grasping Kirk's hand firmly within his own, his thoughts assailing Kirk's.

* What is, is - my t'hy'la. Our time is now. *

Spock then raised Kirk's fingers to his face, gently rubbing his cheek against them, only now raising concerned eyes to his love.

Kirk's mind reached back along their bond to allay Spock's fears.

* Take me Spock. I give myself entirely to you. Take my heart and soul. Conquer this heart and make it yours for evermore. Do it, Now! *

* I do not wish to hurt you Jim *, came Spock's gentle response through their link.

Kirk turned Spock's hand in his and kissed it lovingly, turning to look into Spock's eyes, and said earnestly,

"Spock, the only time you ever hurt me was when you left. You are my beacon and when I was left alone, I was as one blinded. There was nothing left but cold darkness and an unbelievable pain. A pain so intense and soul-searing that it consumed me alive. I trust you. I trust you to never willingly hurt me like that again. I know you never will. When you came back to me, you saved me from a living hell. So please, give yourself to me now, without reservation, without hesitation, for I am yours and can dwell no longer in this solitude." He kissed each finger reverently, murmuring, "Spock, please - make me yours, make us one."

Spock kissed Kirk's upturned profile, slowly working his way down the length of Kirk's accepting body. When he reached his destination, he eased his tongue into the tight secret opening, moving it in a continuous, circular motion that drove Kirk to utter distraction, pushing him frenziedly over the edge. Kirk grasped Spock's hands and pleaded for him to grant him release. Spock freed one hand from Kirk's grasp and found the meld points he sought. Sunlight ran through their veins as Spock

impaled Kirk in one swift wanton motion. *No pain *, Spock's thoughts met his. *Yes, no pain* Jim's answer followed along their bond. The friction from the two inflamed ridges of Spock's penis moving inside him was absolutely incredible, and drove Kirk completely over the cliffs of sanity.

They plunged deeper and deeper into a miasma of desire, both screaming their pleasure in unison. Turgid flesh was held hostage by grasping want. Their minds echoed in sweet synchronization. Bliss is what they felt as their thrusts multiplied and their senses heightened. They climbed higher and higher. Spock moved one hand down to capture Kirk's straining penis, feeling with it the throbbing beat of their conjoined hearts. Words of love spilled from their lips as the psychic thread between them strengthened and coalesced, forming a bond that was unbreakable.

* Yes, thy'la. Give thyself to me. Thy heart and soul art mine, my dearest love. *

* Yes Beloved, * came Kirk's fervent reply, * Yours and no others. *

The words: I love you hummed continuously through their bond as they found their release, Kirk coming again into Spock's closed fist, Spock emptying his seed, in pulsing rhythms within Jim's pliantly receptive body.

When their breathing lulled to a normal rhythm, Spock carefully eased himself to lie alongside his lover, their bodies still joined, Kirk spooned against him, Spock never wanting to let him go. They slept for many hours, locked in this embrace.

Much later, Kirk awoke from the sweetest dream, realizing that it had followed him into waking. Feeling Spock stretched out against him, one arm and leg wrapped possessively around him, sheltering him in his sleep. Kirk smiled. He also sensed Spock was already fully awake and silently watching him.

Turning, light eyes met dark. Kirk passionately kissed this face, dearest to him than any could ever be.

"Heart of my heart," he whispered into Spock's open mouth. Finally, Kirk knew he had found his sanctuary in this loving embrace, in these scintillatingly passionate eyes. He was whole again. He was sated. He was home.

"Yes Jim," Spock replied against those lips he loved above all else. He basked in the warm light of Kirk's loving gaze, "Now and forever thy'la."

Kirk recognized a shimmer of deepest love and an unbridled passion as it emanated from his lover, but he also saw something else, something that shook him to his very foundation. There he was, reflected in the light of Spock's eyes, no longer a stranger to himself. Kirk was filled with a joy that Spock could not help but eagerly thirst for. Jim was his oasis in the desert.

* Jim. * Every ounce of love Spock held in his heart for him, resonated in this one word. His name.

Their eternal pledge vibrated through their bond...

* Parted but Never Parted...Never and Always Touching and Touched. *

Yes, Jim was here. In his lover's arms. Where he was meant to be. Jim responded rapturously as Spock began their lovemaking anew, whispering the words Jim yearned to hear:

"I am here and I will never leave you. I am and ever shall be...yours."

Jim embraced the promise. * Yes, no longer alone. Not anymore. *

Jim's resplendent smile finally resurfaced after its lengthy, self-imposed exile; suffusing Spock's being with its radiance and warmth. That warmth continued to consume him, body and soul, as Jim descended--oh so slowly--down the length of his lover's body. Kirk was all honey and liquid fire, branding Spock with torrid kisses and leaving untold wanting in his wake.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
William Shakespeare, Poet
Sonnet 116

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