Title: D'ty'ral
Author: Kaki (kaki4@ipass.net)
Pairing: Spock/Jake Sisko
Series: post TOS/DS9
Rating: NC-17, I hope
Notes: Part of the "Spock Fuh-q Fest", located at http://www.kardasi.com/fuh-q-fest
Thank you: to my beta readers - I wrote this by hand out at the park, then typed it in late at night. It needed some help. Thank you Kiri for telling me it made sense and for giving me commas, Hafital for more commas and some good questions that filled in a couple of gaps. Any mistakes are decidedly my own, but they helped me make it better, even on such short notice.
Feedback: yes, please.
Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount, but this story belongs to be. There is no intent to infringe on anyone's rights or to profit financially, only to have fun.
Date: July 2000
Summary: Spock disappears and it's up to Jake to save him.

D'ty'ral

As a journalist, my mission in life could be stated as the pursuit of history as it happens. For much of my youth, which I spent in arguably eventful times, I wished to record events as they
occurred, to share my perspective and, as often as possible, the truth, with my potential readers in the present, and as history to those in the future.

I had been pursuing these goals for well over a decade when the events recorded here occurred. It was a time in my life where, for once, the recording of facts and events, was secondary to the affect those events had on my life.

My two-year assignment to report on the diplomatic missions of the Federation had ended only a few months earlier and I was reassigned to the war desk of the Galactic Herald, a leading news ournal based in the Federation. I had been sent to report on several border skirmishes on outlying planets and had begun to feel I was being punished for my exciting years with the diplomatic corp. It should not have surprised me that there was more intrigue, excitement, even violence to report on diplomatic missions than there was through the War Desk, but that was my early experience.

Thus I was pleased to have my journalistic abilities requested to cover an 'ascendance' ceremony on Romulus. It was the ascendance of a minor Lord, so it should not have been a galactic- level event to be covered by the Federation. But Romulus was making another attempt to join the rest of the galaxy as a mover and a shaker; their plans appeared to be to impress everyone they could with their pomp and circumstance. In any case, my name was prominent among reporters for the prestigious events of the last few years, so they specified that I was to attend.

It wasn't until I was aboard the Star Ship Explorer that the true nature of my mission was revealed. As I recall, it was three days out from Romulus when Captain Starn came to my stateroom. The request to enter chime sounded, and I admitted him.

"Enter."

"Mr. Sisko, I need to speak with you privately."

"It's Jake, captain. And, certainly." I watched with some surprise as he locked the door behind him and scanned the room with a strangely modified tricorder. I knew enough not to give him away, so I continued, "It's going to be an exciting event, I'm sure. How many of your officers will attend with me?"

"Between three and seven. We have not received the invitations."

"Do you know what other planets or organizations will be represented?"

"I have the..." At this point he finished his scan and flipped the tricorder shut. "This is the newest scanning equipment," he said in response to my earlier look. "We have checked the ship as thoroughly as possible from the bridge, but this is one better."

I gestured to him to take a seat and joined him.

"Why the secrecy?"

"Ambassador Spock is missing. We have reason to believe a rebel faction holds him."

I sat stunned for a moment, not so much that an ambassador, or really, former ambassador, was missing, but that I was being told.  "How can I help?"

"Your presence was specifically requested by the Romulan government. They do not wish to have a scandal during this event. Since you have a reputation as a journalist, it is believed you can move more freely among the population and perhaps get a clue as to his whereabouts. Officially, of course, you could be considered a spy, if caught."

"Right," I sighed, "never a dull moment with diplomats."

"You have learned much already in your career," the Captain agreed, his face still Vulcan calm. "Further, it is believed that the involvement of Starfleet personnel could result in Spock's death.  The resistance group advocates the outlawing of all Vulcan-type logic. They fear its presence, in the followers of Surak, through Spock."

"What did the ransom request say?"

"There hasn't been one. Not even an acknowledgment. Indeed, we have no proof of his continued existence."

"Then, why me?"

"There have been rumors of a hostage and more rumors of a plan to overturn Spock's following. Nothing definitive, but officials on Romulus and in the Federation consider it sufficient. It is your decision whether we may pursue these tenuous leads. It must be voluntary."

"I volunteer. I couldn't not try, at least."

"Agreed."

A Human would have stayed and planned with me; the Vulcan simply let me decide, then set the plans in motion. I was fit with a subdermal tracer, in addition to the standard locator. This one contained a highly unlikely mixture of metals in small quantities. I could be identified with a scan from the starship but would not emit any traceable signal. Other than that I was left to my own devices.

On Romulus we were assigned sumptuous quarters, rooms with large beds, satin sheets, woven wall-hangings, even a swimming pool-sized sunken tub, shared among six of us whose rooms opened onto it. I spent my first day interviewing state officials and sending out stories of the beauty of the appointments and of the plans for the main ceremony one week hence.

The next day, I wandered among the crowds of people in the capital city. Many were excited to see a human and happy to tell me their stories. I collected many hours of tape on the excitement of the people to be in the big city and almost as much on their lives, stories of farmers, shop keepers, students. I began to plan a documentary based on life on this planet, so alien to most of the Federation, yet so intriguing. However, I heard no references to Spock or to any upheaval.

On the third day, I moved farther into the city touring back roads, stopping to purchase some of the cheap souvenirs, hoping to inspire confidences, but I had no luck.

Then at noon, I stopped in a small cafe and purchased a small meat pastry and drink. I leaned against the wall and watched the crowd, lively and cordial. A man bumped against me causing me to drop my drink. I bent to retrieve it. When I stood up I noted the quiet of the crowd as they quickly departed.

I turned to follow the crowd, but was halted by two imposing Romulans, daggers drawn.

"You will come with us."

"And if I choose not to," I responded, looking around in the vain hope of finding help. The only open door was across the room, and only one of them was between it and me. Remembering my father's training, I took a step forward, then kicked the dagger out of his hand. Then I ran for the door.

~~~~

"Ouch," I muttered, as I moved my head an unknown time later. I looked around to find myself in a dimly lit, stone room. My head ached and I was glad of the dark. I tried to stand, but couldn't. My arms were tied together, behind me and were affixed to something I could not see. As my hands were numb, I could not feel what was behind me. I concentrated on flexing my muscles in the hope that I could restore circulation. I moaned as I began to succeed, the returning blood causing pain.

Instantly, a Romulan entered the room through the open doorway. He untied me from the post, but left me restrained.

"He's awake!" he called out. The Romulan I had kicked earlier strode into the room. He stared at me, looked me up and down. I was already tense, but his gaze, so self-assured, so hate-filled, caused the hair on my arms to stand up.

"Not so tough now, are you?"

I did not respond. He reached out, pulled me to my feet, and stroked my cheek. "We like humans," he purred as he leaned into me.

I looked down to avoid his gaze, so his punch to my middle caught me unaware. I moaned at the pain and dropped to my knees.

"You will never kick me again. You will never so much as think about resisting me again." He grabbed my head and pulled me toward him. Holding me still, he ground his groin against my cheek in implied threat. "You do not wish to get my attention; you would regret it."

I shuddered. He laughed. I hoped to myself that he was only attempting to scare me and did not intend to use me that way.

Then he addressed his companion. "Untie him. Cleanse him and dress him suitably."

At first it was a relief to have my arms free. I shook out my arms and flexed my fingers. It was at that point that I noted the wound near my left elbow and the scar near my wrist.

"The second one did not heal under the doctor's beam," one captor informed me.

It finally dawned on me that my locator devices were gone and with them, my hope. I cringed as I realized I was on my own more so than I had thought possible. I breathed deeply to still my panic.

A shove startled me out of my reverie. Two new Romulans had arrived and I was escorted to a shower. I was stripped unceremoniously and pushed under the shower head. Cold soapy water washed me; colder, rinsed me. I was toweled dry with roughly woven fabric that made my skin tender, but produced a welcome warmth. I was quite conscious of my nakedness, but my captors seemed not to notice.

Next I was taken to a dressing room and garbed in a soft, cotton- like robe, crossed over and tied in front. I felt relieved to be covered, but would have felt better in less-easily removed clothing.  I had never heard of a Romulan taste for tall, lanky, humans, but the threats of the one captor stayed with me. I was pondering whether submission without a fight might save my life or whether fighting might prove my worth to my captors when the original two Romulans returned for me.

"Follow me," the threatener ordered, and I did. I was led to a large, bright, room, perhaps a banquet hall. Several dozen male Romulans, most hoisting large tankards, populated the fore portion of the room. A raised dais was barely visible near the middle. When I entered, the room stilled, then laughter broke out.

"The entertainment has arrived!"

"Oh ho, the Human!"

"He's ugly."

"I want him first!" were the outbursts I could distinguish.

I cringed inwardly, but said and did nothing. The second Romulan clapped my back and laughed. "So strong and stubborn you are!"  He pushed me forward. As my eyes adjusted to the light and I drew closer, I could see the central dais more clearly. On it rested a humanoid body. I looked at it closely.

"Spock!" I exclaimed, recognizing his face from a life-time of Starfleet and diplomatic corps videos, and started to run toward him. I was restrained by many hands, but only stopped when I came within about 10 feet of him.

He was naked, his arms stretched out to his sides, his legs slightly spread. Ropes tied him down, but he appeared unconscious. There were bloody gouges at is wrists and forearms, apparently from previous attempts to escape. Likewise his ankles were raw and oozing, his legs currently secured above the knee. Half-healed bruises adorned his face and chest, newer ones and several sores that could have been made by teeth were scattered over his chest and abdomen.

Except for a large, mostly healed bruise on his upper thigh, his groin was free of sores. However his penis glistened as if recently greased, so I was convinced that he had been touched sexually, if not raped. My dismay at his appearance was counter-balanced by my pleasure that he still lived. I stared at him and thought that if he could survive thus far, surely he could survive until we could escape or be rescued. Later it occurred to me that I should have feared being similarly tortured, but at the time I was only conscious of the movement of his chest, his obvious life as shown by his steady breathing.

Gradually I took a closer look at his wounds; I saw nothing that looked potentially fatal, nothing that should cause unconsciousness.  I wished for more medical background, but continued to look at him, my breathing falling into synch with his. I noted his strong musculature, the firm pectoral muscles, the defined shoulders, rounded calves, the thickness of his slightly graying hair - he was truly a mature Vulcan in all his glory. My eyes strayed back to his groin. Even in its resting state, he was completely, obviously, male, his double ridges outlined through his foreskin, his testicles prominent as framed by his spread legs.

My captors must have noticed my fascination.

"We brought you here for him. So much the better if you desire him." There was raucous laughter throughout the room. The Romulan continued, "He is a tantalizing male, at least to look at.  Can't get it up, though." More nasty cackling. "At least not for us."

A sense of dread filled me as it occurred to me that they meant for me to hurt him. The thought revolted me and I promised myself to do what I could to avoid it.

One of the revelers approached the dais and bowed to an older male sitting off to the side. He was waved forward. He stood next to Spock, turned to the crowd and bowed. "One last chance for him," he shouted. The crowd cheered and jeered. He leaned over the prone Vulcan and rubbed his hand up his thigh, fondled the disinterested cock, and moved upward. Through all of this the Vulcan remained still. The Romulan threw back his head and laughed again, then slid his fingers up to Spock's temple. He stroked slow steady circles at the meld points, and the Vulcan began to writhe. Barely any motion, but stunning after his stillness.

"No," he muttered, oh so quietly. Then he stilled.

The Romulan continued the motion for another moment but with no further apparent notice from Spock. The onlookers began to mutter:

"We can't break him."

"He'll never show emotion."

"It's not possible."

The older Romulan, now obviously the leader, stood and raised his arms. The crowd stilled.

"We will still succeed. The Human has been brought. The Vulcan is immune to the touch of Romulans, but we know how he loves humans," he encouraged the crowd, "Perhaps this one will remind him of Kirk, or perhaps his mother." He paused and the crowd laughed. He raised his arms again, then laughed himself. "We will triumph! We will show the world that logic can not prevail! Use him now!"

At this point my panic triumphed, and I had to be dragged forward.  They took my hands, stroked his skin. Long before my hands were moved to his head, he had begun to moan. The Romulans kept my hands flat on him, stroking his skin. His moans scared me, but his lack of sexual response assured me that at least that was safe.

Too soon, though, my hands reached his temples and he screamed, a blood-curdling sound, and his mind reached out to mine, touching me for only an instant. He shook, then appeared to pass out. I still  felt his mind in mine. He was yet calm inside and must have sensed my intentions, *Please listen. They won't leave us together for long. Appear weak, distraught. I will appear to react badly to you.  We may be able to trick them. I know the way out, if you can release me.*

Then his mind was quiet and his body convulsed. I was truly relieved that I knew him to be faking. I began to shake. Then I cried out, "his pain is too great. It will kill me!" I let myself fall limp onto his body. In the midst of my fear, I felt him warm and solid against me, even through the robe. Still I jerked against him and fell to the floor weeping.

The crowds cheered, "He is broken!"

I heard Spock whimper, "no more, no more."

The leader looked down on me, "Take the weakling to his cell." I was dragged to the room, my wrists were tied, and I was left. I continued my crying and shaking for another half an hour. Then settled down hoping I looked asleep. The guards laughed and left.  

"Weakling. Let's go watch the Vulcan."

It took me perhaps an hour to loosen my bonds. I broke the chair in the room and took a sharp piece of wood with me.

It was surprisingly easy to effect our escape. The Romulans had fallen asleep with the drink, and I simply untied Spock. We fled through the halls, then the twisting downtown streets. Eventually we reached a part of town Spock recognized. I let him take my robe and cowered naked in the shadows as he secured another robe and a place to hide, from an acquaintance. Within the hour, we were safe in the guest residence quarters, Spock with me to avoid the public eye.

At some point in our escape, we verbally exchanged names, but it was only a formality after our mental exchange.

Once back in my quarters, Spock seemed disinclined to leave. I did not wish to push him away, so I let him stay with me. There was sufficient room. Heck, I wanted him to stay and I almost wished there wasn't any spare room; a tiny little bed to share seemed good to me at that time. But I tried to put on a professional face and act as if I was helping him out after his trauma, not that I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving. Somehow I felt he'd be safe with me. And I wanted to be close to him.

The diplomatic corp had no Vulcan healer in their number on Romulus and the government physicians could treat Vulcanoid physical ailments, but the mental stress Spock had suffered was unfamiliar to them, due to the differences between Romulans and Vulcans. Thus, Captain Starn, who had some medic training, came to see us.

I felt awkward sitting there listening to him discuss the emotional and physical trauma to Vulcans of torture by touch. It was considered barbaric and earned a punishment of banishment on Vulcan, although it had not been discovered in generations. After hearing some of the details, Starn asked Spock if he had broken. Spock told him that he had come close but I had saved him by sharing his pain and giving him hope.

Captain Starn's eyebrow rose at the mention of hope, but he merely nodded. He raised his hand, inviting a meld. Spock acquiesced and was touched very briefly. "This is good." He carefully explained to Spock that his recovery would depend on the ancient Vulcan ritual of d'ty'ral. Spock nodded, then stood, bowed to Starn and left the sitting area for a time. Minutes later he returned only to kneel a distance away with his eyes closed and hands folded.

"This is as it should be, Jake," the captain said as he turned his attention to me. "He needs to meditate before he may begin to recover."

"Should I leave him alone?" I asked, hoping the answer would be 'no.'

"Indeed not." Starn looked as shocked as a Vulcan is capable of looking. "You must not. He will need you, as you will need him, for the d'ty'ral. Your time will be limited, however. The ascendence is in two days, and it would be best if both of you attend."

I stared at him for a moment, enjoying my strange sense of relief that I should not leave Spock. Gradually it sank in that I did not know why he needed me and that, perhaps, this knowledge would be useful. "Captain, what is the d'ty'ral?"

"Spock did not tell you? He told me you had melded."

"Only for a few seconds. I felt him give me hope and the escape plan. And I felt his pain. But nothing else."

"In simple terms, it is a ritual of touch. When a Vulcan is hurt through touch, touch must be used to repair the damage. One old enough to bear the burden and close enough to the injured, will provide the healing."

"So he needs me to touch him?"

"Yes."

"Do you mean hold his hand or massage him?"

"Whatever method is appropriate between the two of you. Often simple hand holding will suffice between a bonded pair when one of them has inadvertently touched a severely sick person with their shields down. Or a mother may hold a child on her lap when the child is exposed to too much emotion when in the presence of outworlders."

"But he's been hurt a lot worse than that."

"Indeed. As have you."

"I wasn't hurt. Just a bit scared."

"I believe you were exposed to an unprepared mindmeld with a tortured person when you were already coping with fear for yourself and for Spock. I felt your shock in Spock's mind."

I didn't know what to say, so I was quiet.

"Let us know if you need assistance. If you desire food or private use of the bathing pool or the gardens, it will be arranged. I must leave now. You should prepare yourself with a time of meditation."

I nodded and closed my eyes as he left. My thoughts would not quiet, even as I strove to breathe deeply. I spent about 20 minutes wondering what Spock would need me to do, what I needed that I hadn't realized, and whether Spock had felt my reaction to his naked body when he had touched my mind. This last thought was sufficient to bring me out of my attempt at meditation as my mind wandered onto thoughts of touching him in warm, private places. I shook my head, stood, and walked to the window. I rested against the sill and stared out into the alien city, pondering his touch, touching him, his hand against mine in the transport here, the heat I felt through his clothes. It was partly sensuality, but also a need I felt to be near him, simply to be there.

I must have lost myself in my thoughts as I didn't hear him rise and come to me. His gentle touch on my shoulder startled me. His body standing close behind me, almost touching, seemed to beg me to lean into him. I resisted and his arms wrapped around my waist, not pulling me to him, only surrounding me. He lowered his cheek to my neck and rested there a moment.

"You feel good," he said simply.

I leaned back slightly.

"So Human. So good," he repeated.

I still said nothing.

"I feel your mind calling to mine. Your touch will heal me, Jake. Only your touch."

"I am willing," I offered him, not sure what to say, but needing to reassure him.

He lifted his head, unwrapped his arms. "Come. We shall begin the d'ty'ral."

He led me to the bed and began to shed his clothing. I grinned to myself as I watched his pale green flesh emerge from his heavy robe. His robe draped across the nearest chair, he settled on the bed.

"Jake, we will sleep better and with more touch if you will remove your shirt and trousers."

"Oh, right," I stammered as I realized he wasn't stripping so I could see him. Quickly I disrobed down to my boxers and joined him under the covers. It wasn't dark yet, but I was tired after our ordeal, so the mattress felt good beneath me.

"Will you be comfortable if I hold your hand?"

"Yeah," I replied, then grimaced inside as I realized I sounded like a teenager.

I lay down on one pillow and extended my hand. He took it in both of his, then lay next to me on his side. Soon, I felt a slightly warm sleepy presence in my mind, but no thoughts per se, simply Vulcan touch. I must have fallen asleep then, as I remember nothing else until much later.

It was dark in the room when I awoke. Spock still clutched my hand, but now he was lying touching me, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. I had not realized how similar in height we were; he seemed shorter somehow when I had watched him earlier. Perhaps e had relaxed as he slept, but his head was next to mine and one of his feet was crossed over mine. He breathed deeply, rhythmically. I drifted back into sleep as I listened.

I dreamed of fear, of attempted rape. I dreamed he saved me. I did not dream how it happened, only that he was there and I was safe.

I felt him dream of evil touch, hands on his groin, laughter. I felt him dream that I came to him, and he was safe.

I awoke with his head on my shoulder, my arm around his back, one of his legs thrown over mine. And still, he held my hand. He breathed slowly, his breath warm against my neck. I fell asleep to the beat of his heart against my hip.

I dreamed of heat, the warmth of a hot shower.

He dreamed of heat, the warmth of a red sun.

We dreamed of heat, the warmth of our bodies pressed together.

I awoke lying across him, my chest on his, my face buried in his neck, one thigh slid between his, his arm across my back. Our hands were clasped. He breathed irregularly, his breath warm on my cheek. I felt his hand slide lower on my back, come to rest on my hip. I breathed heavily against his neck. He pulled our clasped hands to chest level. He released mine, only to begin to trace my fingers with two of his.

I lay still on him, my body languorous with sleep and building passion. He turned his head toward mine, kissed my ear gently.

"Touch. We touch," he whispered. I felt his presence within me again, stronger. I felt that he sought permission. I granted it without reserve, although I was unsure what he sought. His mind touched mine. I felt his need for touch, his need for _my_ touch. I shared my need for him. In my mind I felt his pleasure, his mind's pleasure. He needed my mind to give him new memories, to give him new feelings. Yet it wasn't taking he asked for; he offered sharing. The goodness and the pain of our minds, enjoyed, faced, lived together.

He moved within me, his mind seeking closeness. I shared with him as I could. Inside I felt the fear, shared and accepted, his and mine. And with this acceptance, his mental pattern changed - no longer so needy. Now, I felt his desire for me. He craved my touch. He knew he needed the d'ty'ral to heal, but beyond that he craved me, as I hungered for him. I saw in his mind that he found me appealing and that he found pleasure as he saw that I found him beautiful. In his mind there was laughter. He desired and he was wanted.

I turned my head toward his, lifted slightly. I touched his lips with mine. He was hot, hotter than the heat of the Vulcan sun in our shared dream. His lips parted mine and our tongues met. More heat from him, a sense of welcome wetness as he tasted me. I slid my body off of his, but kept his mouth. I stripped him of his boxers and he helped me remove mine.

His tongue felt warm in my mouth as I suckled it, barely noticing his maneuvering as he shifted me beneath him, then held himself above me. For long moments we kissed, first me sucking his tongue, then me thrusting against him and into his mouth. I felt pleasure from his mental touch and was happily unsure if he had encouraged me to thrust against him or if it had been my idea, my instinct. Who led and who followed did not matter as we assuaged our need for touch and our desire for each other.

My tongue engaged, my hands sought purchase on his back. His skin was warm beneath my palms, his muscles firm through his skin.  Soon it occurred to me that he still held himself above me, his muscles flexed to hold his weight.

"Touch me, Spock," I whispered, then continued, "Bare skin..." I stopped speaking as he simultaneously reclaimed my mouth and lowered his naked body to mine.

Heat, solid weight, softness, heat, hardness. I lay stunned for a moment as I took in all the sensations as six feet of solid, very male, Vulcan came to rest on me. His skin, warm to the casual touch, almost burned where it lay against me. The phrase "hot as the sun of Vulcan" came to my mind, and fit him as we touched.

His skin was firm, solid muscle and toned flesh beneath. His chest was softer against mine, the result of our combined hair. His legs covered mine, his feet near to my own, heat all along my body. 

Then he shifted once more, lowering the last of himself against me.  Hot, hard, dry. Against me. His shaft against mine. I know I gasped into his mouth at that point, and he released me.

"God, Spock. You feel..."

He shifted again, flexing his abdomen. Hot, warm, wet, now as he rubbed against me.

"Aargh. Mmmmm." I thrust up against him as I realized he was spreading my wetness between us. He was so hot; he covered me so well. "Spock."

"Jake, move with me," he asked of me, before tilting his head to take my mouth.

I moved, with him. I remember no conscious thought from me, or from him. We simply moved together that time. His mouth on mine, then on my neck. My mouth on his, then my tongue licking his ear, anywhere I could reach. His body remained above mine. Neither of us could bear to lose any of our touching. Small movements served to rub our skin together. The touch of his ankle rubbing my calf caused me to groan. My hipbone sliding over his caused a gasp. But soon, too soon, these small touches built until we had to, could not bear not to, complete each other.

I turned my head to his and captured his mouth, sucked his tongue into mine and suckled it hard. I stroked down his back with my hands, finally resting on his buttocks. I pulled him closer and felt his breathing rate increase - his breath hot against my cheek.

I thrust up toward him, feeling our slick erections sliding against each other. I felt tightness in my groin and a desperate need to climax. I did not take time to analyze whether it came from me or him or both. I needed this, him, too badly. I pulled his hips toward me, began to thrust toward him in time to my pulling him toward me. He took over quickly, thrusting his tongue into me and his erection against me.

I grew incoherent at that point and remember only the heated pleasure of his orgasm, the ecstasy of my own, our hot semen flooding my abdomen, his shudders against me. And his mind in mine, a blaring light at climax, such euphoria as our minds merged deeper for that one second as we climaxed physically. We lay locked together for a seeming eternity. I think I fell in love with him during that quiet time. The d'ty'ral was satisfied, my need for him just begun.

Eventually we rose and cleaned up. I talked him into a swim in the bathing pool. We were alone at that time of night and used the water more as another touch than for washing. It allowed us to slide over each other, provided closeness with ease, yet separated us with its foreign layer. We played with each other, sliding our bodies together as we swam by, then catching each other and stopping to kiss or caress. I've never seen him that open in what could have been a public setting in all the time since, but, I believe, we still needed much touch and the euphoria of a new relationship was with both of us.

Still, it was possible that we could be interrupted, so in due course we returned to our room.

We kissed for a short while near the bed. It was a pleasure to kiss someone of similar height. I had physically loved many of varying size, but very few near my height. I could turn my head and kiss him, no need to bend my back. I could have kissed him for hours like that, but he began to get goosebumps, so I pushed him onto the bed. I was pleased when he pulled me down with him and covered us up.

He kissed my forehead, then held me close.

"I need sleep, Jake. I desire you, too. But my body requires rest."

I smiled into his neck. "Me, too."

"I wish to sleep holding you."

"I wasn't planning to give you a choice."

"Ah. A logical Human."

I laughed at him, then snuggled beside him. It felt so right to lie
next to his warmth.

I dreamed of peace and warmth. He dreamed the same. And later we dreamed of love and lust and taking each other. In the dream it was possible; I was immersed in him and he penetrated me. And with the touch of Vulcan skin, there was feeling shared, so no pain, only pleasure.

I awoke spooned with him, his arm wrapped around me, his erection pressed tight against my hip and one of his fingers tracing circles around my anus. I was already mostly hard from the dream, but became hard enough to hurt very quickly as his finger slid into me.

"Jake?"

"Yes," I replied as I pushed back onto his fingertip.

"I would choose to take you."

"Oh, yes."

He nodded against my neck and slid his finger in deeper. His hand felt slick against me and his finger was warm inside me. I began to moan, too ready to be patient.

"More, Spock. I want more." I heard the pleading in my voice, but I did not care if he heard my desperation, not him.

"Soon," he replied as I was filled with more bulk, perhaps two fingers. "You are tight."

I attempted to relax. "I do not care, I want you."

"I will take you in pleasure. I desire you, Jake, my body and my mind."

I moaned, then pulled his free hand upward. As he slowly worked his fingers inside me, I sucked his other fingers into my mouth. I suckled him and thrust against him.

"Ahhh. Your tongue is talented," he whispered against my shoulder, then leaned forward a fraction and began to lick my skin, his tongue hot and wet. He licked in circles as he moved side to side with his fingers, then he tongued me with the tip pointed and hard as he thrust his fingers deeper and pulled out.

"You are prepared," he groaned against me.

"Yes." I used the syllable to beg him for more.

"I will desire to merge with you in a meld once I am within you."

"Anything, Spock. Anything. I want you." I threaded my fingers between his as I panted my need. I could not suckle and speak at the same time.

A warmth touched me intimately. It stayed still for a moment. I heard Spock's labored breath and pushed back against him. That warmth became heat, then hardness as we grew closer. I pushed against it, feeling as if somehow having him inside me would make me whole. I was more used to sex to simply feel good, but this was so much better. On the other hand, I felt so needy, I had trouble waiting for him.

"Jake, slowly."

"Please."

"I will satisfy you. But slowly for now." Again he licked my neck. Slow circles, then sucking kisses. Always gentle. I leaned back toward his mouth and moaned.

His hardness began to slide within me, perhaps an inch before stopping. I pressed against him with my hips and he slid in another hot, hard, oh-so-thick-feeling, inch. He gasped and his whole body shivered. "You are so tight; your touch so needed." I began to feel a burning in my mind; it took a moment to recognize it as his sensations as he entered me. He didn't feel heat, but a burning need to be inside me. I felt treasured as I realized how hard he fought to make this pleasurable for me.

Then he slid in further, finally broaching my tightness completely. I sobbed in pleasure and relief as he filled me. He groaned as my ass came to rest against him. Gently he rocked in me, pulling out a tiny bit, then returning. Warmth filled me and my insides ached with pleasure.

His hand pulled loose from mine and worked its way to my temple.  "My mind to yours," he whispered against my neck, his hips rhythmically thrusting into and out of me. His mind slid into mine, closer than it had been before with only our skin touching. His life lay out before me; I caught glimpses of Vulcan rituals, school books, starships, pain, triumphs. Only glimpses, though, as our bodies demanded our attention. His mind sought out my pleasure
centers and shared his with me. He took care not to interfere with our bodies' needs, but stroked my mind, feelings not-then-identified as love and caring flowed through my mind from him and back to him from me. And he thrust within me. 

His non-melding hand shifted along my hip, pushing one thigh forward. He leaned into my body. His cock became harder and his angle allowed him to move deeper. He began to thrust hard and I moved with him. I reached one hand back to feel where we joined; his cock was wet with lubricant and oh so hot, and my flesh was warm from friction, but cooler than his. I touched us where we joined, felt his cock slide over my fingers. I shared the feeling with him and felt him shudder within me.

"Touching, Jake. Everywhere." He pulled my hand out from between us and somehow flipped me onto my knees, his cock shoving back into me as soon as I was still. In that way he came to thrust against my prostate and I began to chant to him, with him, aloud and in our minds, "ah...more. Yes, harder. Oh god, oh Spock/Jake." We gasped and moaned. His cock was hard inside me, so hard. I clenched around him and pushed. He pushed harder. And we screamed in climax, his hot semen inside me, mine covering the bed.

We soon collapsed limply, gasping for breath. Then slept again, wrapped together, on quickly changed sheets.

~~~~

We shared again several times over the next day, growing closer. But the time came for the ceremony and we had to attend; he to soothe the wary crowd with his presence and I to report on the day and on his safe return.

I knew it had to end, but I still look back and wonder if I could have stayed. He was needed by the people of Romulus, he explained to me. And I could not stay; my destiny was not there. We both knew it, but it was not easy. We spent our last hours lying naked together stroking each other's skin, feeling, touching.

~~~~

It has been several years now. He leaves Romulus on occasion or I find reason to go there. And, then, we share our need, our love, with touch.

END