Jim Kirk allowed his eyes to wander hungrily over the face of his first officer who was studying the chessboard, oblivious to his scrutiny. Tonight was one of those nights that he was grateful that Spock had agreed to play chess with him in his quarters instead of out in the recreation area where others would too clearly see what Spock didn’t when he was deep in thought. In some ways it was good that the Vulcan typically played five to six moves ahead, because his complex strategizing gave Jim the time to feast, unobserved, upon a sight that he had grown accustomed to denying himself.

Although he hated vid-scans and doctors with a passion, James Kirk was not a man who was unfamiliar with his own psyche. He had long grown accustomed to his fascination with his very male, very unapproachable, very Vulcan first officer.

The early years of friendship had been easy – Spock was by far the most intelligent, most interesting person he’d ever met. It had been that gradual shift into attraction that had been hard to take – especially since it had corresponded with his unprecedented success with the ladies.

Even though he tried to be completely honest with himself, even if he couldn’t bring himself to be honest with the man before him, he couldn’t even say when it began, or when the idea of him and Spock being together – really together — had taken hold. He remembered flashes of awareness on the bridge or in the gym, but he had attributed it to the deep abiding affection he felt for the other man.

Then he’d had a couple of dreams – they were vague, but when he woke he had the impression that he and Spock had been touching or perhaps even making love. Initially he was bewildered by the dreams, and while the pleasures of male companionship were not unknown to Jim, he found himself uncomfortable thinking about his unflappable First Officer in such an intimate way. However, his Starfleet training came in handy and he was able to put those images out of his mind by the time he joined the Vulcan for breakfast.

But despite his own best efforts the dreams kept coming back, and in an attempt to keep them from interfering with his ability to command, he simply pushed them to the periphery of his mind. He might have them, but he wouldn’t think about them – or so he said.

One night after a particularly intense landing party during which they both almost died, he broke his own rule and took one of those dreams out, examined it, and allowed himself to really think about the possibility. He began to address what it meant that he’d been having sexual dreams about his First Officer and best friend.

That night he acknowledged, to himself, what Spock meant to him. He loved him – period. Having, admitted it to himself, he found the dreams all but disappeared. In fact, the next few nights had been most peaceful; and during his waking hours, he liked exploring the idea that he loved Spock. He assumed that his libidinous nature had sent him a message that it knew he would understand. The dreams had been sexual in nature so that he would recognize the depth of his feelings. Holding the newfound knowledge that his regard for the Vulcan had taken a deeper turn close to his heart made him feel safe. The dreams stopped and life went on.

Then, two weeks later he had a dream that still made him blush. There were no brushstrokes and vague innuendos in his mind that time – just one very naked, very aroused Vulcan who took him in every way imaginable. He’d woken up with tears streaming down his face, his throat raw, and semen on this stomach – he doubted that he had even touched himself; the dream had been that powerful.

The gentle warmth that he’d been carrying around in his heart became an inferno; he hung up his hat as an amateur psychologist and tried, without success, to get some sleep. He skipped breakfast that morning, opting instead for a nice long swim.

Unable to prevent the dreams from coming, or from the heat that grew daily within him, Jim decided to simply live with it. He moved their evening chess games into his quarters just in case he wasn’t as detached as he thought he was and thus far everything had remained the same.

Some days were worse than others – today being one of the worst. Several times during the alpha shift Spock had turned unexpectedly, caught him staring, and raised his brow inquisitively. Breathless, as if he’d been caught naked instead of simply off guard, Jim had just managed to grin stupidly and shrug. On their way down in the turbo-life he joked half-heartedly about cabin fever and Spock merely nodded. No questions – but no answers either.

On the deck five they separated and went to their respective quarters –Spock to do whatever he normally did at that hour and Jim to throw himself heavily across his bunk, undo his trousers, and fantasize. For a man who had originally been unwilling to face his own unconscious dreams regarding Spock, he’d gotten amazingly creative in his waking hours.

In his mind, he had constructed dozens of first time scenarios –some on away missions that had gone awry, in alien prisons, on the bridge, as a result of a second ponn farr – some on nights like this when Spock would simply look up from the chessboard and say, ‘Your mind is not on the game, Jim,’ and they would just know.

Despite how plausible these scenes seemed within the confines of his bunk – face-to-face he just couldn’t see it ever happening.

"Jim?" Spock’s velvet baritone sliced through his reverie, startling him. .

"Hmmm?" Jim met his eyes awkwardly, wondering how long he’d been staring off into space. "Did you move?" He asked as he sat up a little straighter in the chair to get a better look at the board.

"Your mind is not on the game." Spock observed, his words an eerie echo of Jim’s own traitorous thoughts.

Swamped with equal parts deja vu and surprise, Jim felt the blood that had been pooled in his groin rush to his face. Unable to gain control of his expression, he stood suddenly and walked around the table. He stopped directly behind Spock’s chair and sighed.

"Guilty as charged, Mr. Spock – I’m sorry." He watched as the Vulcan rested his elegant hands on the edge of the table.

"You have seemed distracted most of the day," Spock probed gently, his eyebrow cocking up, in a familiar questioning manner. "May I be of assistance?"

Jim felt his own eyebrow creep up his brow in amazement – a plethora of inappropriate responses flooded his mind as his eyes swept the enticing planes of the Vulcan’s too tense neck and shoulders. Despite his elaborate scripts, he knew that he would never be able to put his desire into words – to think something was one thing, to say it was another entirely. He took a steadying breath and closed his eyes.

"You’ve been pretty distracted yourself, Spock – I can see the tension in your back. Is there anything I can do for you?"

If it all possible, Spock stiffened in his chair.

"Captain, I—"

"Don’t ‘Captain—‘ me, Spock. We’re off duty you know –and believe me, I’m not asking as your commanding officer." He fought to keep his tone light.

"Jim," Spock began again, "I am Vulcan—"

Sensing something beneath the hesitation that he had never even hoped for, not even in his wildest dreams, Jim pressed on, "If Dr. McCoy was here, Spock, he’d point out that you were half human."

"Dr. McCoy is not here." Spock pointed out, his voice low.

"You’re right." Encouraged – perhaps more than the situation warranted Jim laid his hand on the back of Spock’s chair. "He’s not here. There’s no one here but us," he heard the honey creep into his voice and wondered if Spock would recognize it. "How about it, Spock? Why don’t you let me do something for you for a change?" He moved his hand so that it rested lightly against Spock’s shoulder.

Spock was totally silent and Jim could almost hear the mechanisms of his mind at work.

"You realize that I am a touch telepath." He stated simply.

"Yes." Kirk replied casually, not sure if Spock was explaining his own hesitance or warning him that he could, indeed, read his mind. "And I know that under most conditions you find physical contact to be," he hesitated, carefully choosing his descriptor, "disturbing."

"I have," Spock swallowed hard, "never found your touch disturbing, Jim."

Kirk felt a burst of energy push though his lungs like a tidal wave. "I’m glad to hear that Spock – really. However, as you are a touch telepath, you know that, don’t you?"

He took a deep breath, shuttered his mind like Spock had taught him to do during their many mind melds, and then laid his hand gently on the Vulcan’s shoulder. "Because what I really need right now is to touch you," he admitted softly. "Is that okay?"

Spock nodded fractionally, but said nothing.

Slowly, gently, Kirk slid his hand up the slope of Spock’s shoulder. He traced the neckline of the blue science tunic then slipped his fingers inside the material; he hesitated only for a moment before tentatively exploring the hollows and sharp ridges that he found there. He could feel Spock’s pulse beneath his fingertips; he could hear Spock’s breathing echoed in his own.

"You are shielding." Spock observed, not moving away.

Kirk lifted his hand to explore the soft area of Spock’s neck and then caressed the area beneath his ear. He felt as if he was inside one of his dreams — the unreality of the situation nearly suffocating him. Still, Spock did not move..

"Shielded or no, I think you know what I’m thinking," Jim answered, his voice rough as he buried both hands in the Vulcan’s silky black hair that, until that moment, had been impeccably arranged. "Or at the very least, you have a better idea than I do about what it is that you’re thinking."

He almost wept in relief when he felt Spock lean into his touch ever so slightly.

"I am thinking, Jim," the Vulcan’s voice was very serious, "that this is perhaps not the wisest action for us to take." He closed his eyes before continuing, "but that I have desired this too long to do more than to simply make a token note of my concern."

"You’ve desired this?" Jim asked, incredulously, as he leaned down and buried his lips into the Vulcan’s hair. Feeling overwhelmed – both emotionally and physically, he pulled back. "Isn’t desire one of those illogical human emotions that don’t concern you, Mr. Spock?" he teased as he slid his arm around Spock’s chest – continuing to touch, explore; his heart hammered in his chest.

The Vulcan turned in his arms, and Jim would be damned if he wasn’t smiling. Not a big smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"If Doctor McCoy were here, " Spock returned evenly, "he would point out that I am half human."

"Doctor McCoy is not here," Jim kneeled, meeting Spock’s eyes for the first time – what he saw there amazed him.

"How fortuitous," Spock’s voice was suddenly husky. "Jim—"

Their lips met tentatively – Jim wasn’t sure who made the first move, but somehow they were both standing. Spock’s hands were on his back; his were on Spock’s hips. He nipped softly at Spock’s lower lip and then he slid his tongue inside the Vulcan’s mouth. He was instantly hard and he rubbed his erection wantonly against Spock’s thigh.

Spock’s tongue brushed his own and then they were both drowning. He was at least partially aware that Spock was not touching his face; he wondered if he would.

"Too meld at this time would be dangerous for you," Spock explained as if he had spoken the words out loud.

"But you can read my mind," Jim stated matter-of-factly.

"I can feel your emotions," Spock corrected carefully. "I have done so for some weeks; I am sorry, I should have told you."

Kirk laughed self-consciously, taken aback. "You mean you’ve known –all this time?"

"I suspected," Spock confirmed as he stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. "Do you mind?"

"No," Kirk buried his head in the crook of the Vulcan’s neck and inhaled deeply. "God, Spock, it’s been bad. Today was hell – but I guess you knew that. Why didn’t you say something if you knew?" Jim shook his head disbelievingly –how could Spock have known and said nothing? God, if he had only known… "You said that you’d wanted this for a long time."

Spock averted his eyes before answering.

"I could sense your distraction – but I was unable to discern the nature of your feelings towards me – or mine for you," he admitted softly.

Jim ran his hand down Spock’s hips languidly – another fantasy that had more than once left him staring aimlessly out the main view screen.

"Well, Spock, what gave me away? I’ve bluffed Klingons, I’ve talked down Romulans, Starfleet Admirals--"

The Vulcan smiled, reached out tentatively, and then leaned forward and kissed him. The look on his face before their lips met rocked Kirk to the core; part of him wondered just how much Spock had managed to ‘discern’ – another part wondered how much was within Spock that he’d never seen. Yes, he had thought the other man was beautiful, but the sexuality – the vulnerable sensuality — those things he had not accounted for. He reached for Spock’s wrist and led him towards the bed.

"I want you to lay down with me," he whispered softly, his lips grazing the Vulcan’s ear. "I want to see you – I need to see you," he added meaningfully as he pulled him down for another kiss.

Boots and clothes were shed in disarray – not into the neat piles that Jim had imagined, but in a melee of lust and need that he imagined surprised them both.

Jim gasped as Spock rolled them both onto the bed – their mouths and bodies fused into one. The Vulcan was beauty in motion and Kirk couldn’t help but wonder at all the wasted frustration and fear that had kept him from this moment. His thighs moved across Spock’s as he fought to get closer.

Again, overwhelmed by the intensity of his own feelings, he wrapped his arms around the Vulcan’s body and held on in an attempt to gain his bearings, only to be rolled over once again.

Spock was strong – Jim wasn’t a man who had recently lost a wrestling match in bed. He found the Vulcan’s strength exciting – he found it exhilarating. Spock’s hands were everywhere – on his back, on his arms, on his ass, in his mouth. The Vulcan’s tongue lapped at his ears, his face, and his eyes. His own fingers drew elaborate patterns across the surface of the olive skin and his tongue teased out small moans and gasps from deeper within.

Laughing softly, Kirk pulled himself up and then placed his hands squarely on Spock’s shoulders and pushed him away gently.

"Hey, I said I wanted to see you," he chided, as he allowed himself the luxury of sliding his eyes over the Vulcan’s flushed features, to his neck where the alien pulse beat wildly, to the beautifully sculptured chest, to the well-muscled arms. "Lean back," he whispered softly as he reached out and absently traced the length of the Vulcan’s side; he touched him with the ease of an old lover and his heart swelled in recognition of what his body had yet to know.

With feline grace, Spock disentangled himself and then pulled himself up to his knees. Jim watched, in awe, as his cool "emotionless" first officer leaned forward and traced the contours of his chest before reluctantly moving away.

Jim caught himself swaying forward involuntarily as Spock, supporting his upper body with his arms, offered himself up for his approval. In that instant, Jim met Spock’s eyes and saw, for the first time, the Vulcan’s uncertainty – his aforementioned concern of which he had made only a token objection.

At the unexpected show of vulnerability, Jim felt tears mist his eyes, and suddenly, in his mind, he was standing in the church near his mother’s house – in front of the immense alter that as a child he’d been forbidden to touch. He hadn’t thought about that place in years, hadn’t thought about the beauty of the offering – or the pull that had brought him there day after day.

Needing to remove the uncertainty – for them both – and just to feel Spock’s skin against his own, Jim moved to his knees and leaned forward. He kissed his First Officer reverently at the base of his neck and then laid his face carefully on the Vulcan’s chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his hips –knowing that Spock could support them both. He luxuriated in the feel of himself sinking into the strength of the other’s body.

"I love you Spock," he whispered quietly as he sensed, more than felt, the Vulcan reach around and pull him even closer.