Title: Fastlove
Part: 1/1
Series: (early) TOS
Author: Animasola
Code: S/Sam Kirk
Rating: [NC-17]
Feedback: Appreciated.
Archive: Best of Both Worlds Spock's Fuh-Q Fest section, of course. http://www.kardasi.com/fuh-q-fest/ Otherwise, please ask.
Summary: Heartbreak is illogical. Spock is merely in a contemplative state when he finds welcome distraction in an unexpected encounter.
Warning: This story is intended for adults who enjoy explicit, m/m slash fiction. I can't stop anyone else from reading it, but I can certainly ignore them if they choose to bug me about it.
Disclaimer: Paramount, Roddenberry, yadda yadda yadda. I pump coffee for a living and this is my not-for-profit escape. Sue me and you might get a latte out of it. Decaf, of course.
Acknowledgments: This is another pairing written for the Spock-Fuh-Q-Fest, and is dedicated to the deliciously evil minds who conceived it.
Islaofhope, my patient beta, is responsible for encouraging me to write this pairing, and for making the end result better than it would have otherwise been. Kira-Nerys also leapt to my rescue and caught some silly mistakes before I posted and made me feel *very* good about my compulsion to do this pairing.
Inspired by and titled after a George Michael song, copyright 1996 Robobuild Ltd. DreamWorks Records.

Fastlove

The heat of the Iowa summer washed over him as he left the auditorium. The frigid air conditioning had chilled the slick blue fabric of his dress uniform so that he could still feel it through his thermal undershirt.

Music thumped faintly behind him as he walked to the farthest edge of the parking lot, seeking a moment of solitude in which to contemplate his impressions of his new captain. James Kirk had made such a name for himself with the press during his young career that Starfleet public relations had decided to publicize his new command with a reception in his home town. With nearly a week of leave before assuming his own post as first officer of the Enterprise, Spock had, in the interest of establishing a suitable rapport with his new commanding officer, accepted Kirk's polite invitation to attend.

It was obviously not going to be enough. Though he had strictly forbidden himself to indulge in any comparison between Kirk and Chris Pike, it was a resolve he found increasingly difficult to keep. He did not want to think about Chris. He would only draw the same bitter conclusion, that the rightful captain of the Enterprise had relinquished his command to gain distance from a relationship which had only caused him pain and embarrassment, that Chris was gone because of him. Now there was this... other man, trying to take his place.

He repeated to himself that it would be illogical to judge an individual on the basis of a few indulgent articles in the media and two brief administrative interviews, but he found it difficult to deny the truth. Spock did not approve of the new captain. The misgiving was mutual. He knew for a fact that Kirk had quietly pulled every string within his grasp to promote his personal acquaintance Gary Mitchell to first officer. Resentment, Spock reflected, was a waste of time and energy. Perhaps logic would be better served with a request for transfer.

"Hell of a party."

The voice came from behind, giving him a slight start, though he was careful not to jump. Spock turned to face the man who was settled comfortably on the hood of a battered ground utility vehicle.

"Sir?" he asked, at something of a loss. He had just left the new captain inside the high school auditorium, yet now he appeared to be in civilian dress, a cigarette smoldering in his hand. Hazel eyes flickered over Spock as the full lips turned up at the corners before they wrapped around the green neck of a beer bottle and took a long pull. Shaking his head, the man swallowed and said, "At ease, Mister. I'm not him. Just ask anyone."

No, Spock saw, stepping closer and examining him, this was not the captain. Nearly identical to Kirk but built along leaner lines. The cheekbones were slightly more pronounced and his hair was a shade closer to what humans inaccurately called red. The eyes were the same but not the expression. Spock tried, with difficulty, to place the precise emotion there. Mirth, combined with a note of cynicism, he decided, contrasting with some lighter tone he could not identify.

"One of these days," the man said, "I'll have to grow a beard or something so people can tell us apart." He looked down at the bottle in his hand, turning it as he added, "Especially now that he's the new Starfleet poster boy."

"I beg your pardon, Sir," Spock said, stiffly, "I was unaware the Captain had relatives in attendance this evening aside from his mother and grandmother."

The tip of the man's cigarette glowed orange as he took a deep drag. "No," he said, exhaling a long plume of smoke and smiling pleasantly, "I don't suppose anyone would be aware of me. My brother hates to brag." He chuckled and rolled his eyes, taking another pull on his beer. Spock stood by awkwardly, unsure of how to reply, wondering if the man was inebriated.

"Uh-oh," the man said, "Looks like I'm being rude again. Sorry. I'm George Kirk, but you can call me Sam. Jim does. Want a beer?" He indicated a thermal container of green bottles on the front seat of the truck.

"No, thank you," he said, adding, "My name is Spock." With a shrug, Sam tipped his head back and drained the last of his beer and extinguished the cigarette inside the bottle before tossing it into a recycler unit, approximately six meters away, where it landed with a jarring clank and clatter.

"Mind grabbing me another one then, Spock?" The corner of Sam's mouth raised in a boyish, lopsided grin that Spock supposed a human would consider charming. He reached in through the open window to retrieve a bottle from the icy interior of the carton and handed it to his new captain's brother.

"Thanks," Sam said, his fingertips just grazing the back of Spock's hand as he accepted the beer. "So," he said, twisting off the cap and absently turning it over with his fingers as he studied Spock's features. "What are you doing out here? Going AWOL?"

"That term is inapplicable. I am already on leave until the Enterprise leaves port in five-point-two days." Spock felt himself growing uncomfortable under Sam's continuing close scrutiny. "I left the auditorium to be alone," he said, and then wondered if in doing so he would appear rude.

"Do you like being alone?" Sam asked, setting his sweating beer bottle down on the hood next to him, still playing with the cap. His gaze was just as direct as his brother's, Spock observed, looking down at his boots to avoid it.

"Irrelevant," he replied, "one is either alone or not alone. Emotional response to a condition rarely causes an effect upon its reality." He refrained from listing the facts to back up his position. Humans tended to display symptoms of irritation when Spock was correct, and he had begun, of late, to endeavor not to irritate humans so often. Though he found the pastime inexplicably enjoyable, it only interfered with their efficiency, and seemed to fuel their own desire to irritate him in return.

"Irrelevant," Sam repeated, rolling the word around on his tongue as though tasting it. "Yes," he said, "I suppose it is. Funny, I never thought of it that way. But then, I don't have much experience in being alone. It's not a luxury I can remember enjoying." He reclined against the flyspecked windshield and looked up at the sky, taking a sip of his beer.

Spock studied his profile, finding the evenness of the features and the subtle glint of wetness on the lower lip oddly appealing. The cold seemed finally to be winding its way out of his muscles and he allowed his shoulders to drop to their normal posture and relax. "You are alone now," he said, glancing around the otherwise uninhabited rows of vehicles.

"I was alone," Sam replied, giving him a sidelong glance. "Now you're here." Spock felt his face suffuse with warmth at his error, and said, "Yes, of course. Would you prefer to be alone?" Almost instantly he realized that he hoped the answer would be negative.

Sam turned his head and looked Spock over thoughtfully before answering, "No, I don't suppose I would just now. Sometimes strangers make the best companions. Wouldn't you agree?"

Spock considered, then replied, "I would consider most of my shipmates to be, essentially, strangers. I do not normally find their presence unsatisfactory."

"How about friends? You must have friends," Sam said, turning back to his contemplation of the night sky without waiting for an answer. "Someone once said you can never have too many friends. I think that's bullshit. I've got friends coming out of my ears and it's never done me an ounce of good. Friendship is overrated. I'd rather have one decent stranger to be with, and never take it too deep..." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand in the air and then caught himself, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," he said, "I'm rambling. It's been a long day."

"There is no need for an apology," Spock said. Sam's strange monologue had intrigued him, though he could not at present determine why. "Your... masses of friends are inside in the auditorium, I presume?" he asked, simply for the sake of drawing the conversation out. Establishing a civil relationship with Kirk's family could prove to relieve a degree of their mutual aversion to each other.

Sam snorted. "Yes, my masses of friends are all inside, celebrating my brother's glory," he said, "along with my wife." He took another solemn sip of beer and looked into the distance.

"Your wife?" Spock said, for lack of another suitable response. He could sense the man's mood making a subtle shift. Sam sighed, and nodded. "Aurelan," he said, softly. "We left the boys with a baby-sitter tonight. First time I've gotten her out of the house since we had the new baby. She wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Congratulations," Spock said, adding in response to Sam's puzzled glance, "on the recent birth of your child."

"Ohhh," Sam said, and then smiled in acknowledgment, "Yeah, thank you. He looks just like his uncle. But then, the other two do as well, if you know what I mean." He took another thoughtful sip, and grinned ruefully at Spock, whose brow furrowed as he deciphered the implication.

"Sir, perhaps your own resemblance to your brother would explain --" he began, but was cut off by Sam's laugh.

"No, no, no," Sam said, "That has nothing to do with it. I am firmly convinced that my children look more like Jim than they do me." He hopped down off the hood of the truck and stood leaning against it, crossing his long legs in front of him casually. "Haven't you ever heard that old folktale about a woman's children resembling most closely the face of her first love? Well, it's not just a legend, and I've got one little Jimmy in diapers and another in high school to prove it."

Genuinely disturbed, Spock's eyes grew a fraction wider as he calculated the probability of mental instability running in his new captain's family. Surely the notion of James Kirk being the father of his brother's children was merely a delusion.

"Don't worry," Sam said, chuckling at Spock's expression. "I'm just feeling sorry for myself again. Sixteen, seventeen years ago, some friends and I crashed my little brother's junior prom. I left with his date. Aurelan. God, she was beautiful," he said, shaking his head and looking to the sky. "I was drunk, of course, otherwise I wouldn't have done it. It was just like taking candy from a baby. Or making a baby to take candy from, as I discovered when Aurelan turned up pregnant a few weeks later."

Sam walked around to reach into the cooler for a piece of ice, which he popped in his mouth. "Am I boring you?" he asked Spock, who shook his head, still trying to comprehend the emotional ramifications of the events being related to him. Sam's demeanor in no way indicated distress, he decided, and it seemed to please him to talk, so Spock remained silent and listened.

"I had finally been accepted to Starfleet Academy. Jim had been thinking about asking Aurelan to marry him. We kind of switched. After the wedding, Aurelan and I converted an old farmhouse on my family's land and lived there for a few years while I attended State for biology. One kid led to another, and it took a long time to get my doctorate, but I made it, and now Jimmy's officially Buck Rogers, and here we are." He made a sweeping gesture around at the parking lot, and started chewing what was left of the ice.

"Well, that's my story," Sam said, slipping off the light, tailored jacket he wore and tossing it through the window into the cab of the truck. "What's yours?" He leaned against the truck again and crossed his arms.

"I am a science officer," Spock said simply, his hands folded behind his back.

Sam nodded in acknowledgment, with a small, "Hmm." The song drifting from the auditorium changed again and the two men stood silently, Sam's eyes on Spock, Spock's eyes on the ground.

"How do you feel about honesty, Science Officer?" Sam asked. The question had a peculiar effect on the Vulcan's sympathetic nervous system.

Spock lifted his eyes to regard Sam and answered, "Honesty is the most logical trait I have, thus far, observed in human behavior, though not the most common."

"So," Sam said, "Honesty is good." Spock wanted badly to look away, but the hazel eyes held his in a thoughtful, somewhat intrusive gaze.

"Agreed," Spock said, his voice catching slightly. He cleared his throat and resisted the urge to take a step back.

Sam took a step closer to him, and Spock detected the clean-smelling odor of soap mingled with a trace of cologne. When Spock held his ground and did not object to the proximity, Sam took another step, almost closing the space between them.

"Is this also good?" he asked, "Because it may be out of left field, but I feel like doing this right now." Sam's voice was pitched low and velvety, and Spock wondered at the dual effect it had of being soothing and stimulating. He did not reply to the question.

"Vulcans aren't supposed to like having their personal space invaded," Sam said, bringing his face closer to Spock's. "How does this make you feel?"

"Are you attempting to make an experiment of me, Doctor?" Spock asked, lifting one eyebrow. Sam laughed softly, and replied, "Only with your consent. Do I have it?" Again, Spock declined to answer. There was simply no reply he could bring himself to make.

Sam traced the outline of Spock's blue-clad shoulder with his fingertips, an inch from making actual contact, and said, "I'm going to take that as a 'yes'." He leaned in gingerly and planted a small kiss on the corner of the Vulcan's jaw. Spock's hands unfolded and reached out, either to grasp Sam or push him away, but froze in mid-air before falling to his sides.

"Easy..." Sam murmured, gently brushing his cool cheek against Spock's warm one. He tentatively ran the tip of his tongue between Spock's barely open lips. Spock's toes tensed inside his boots, and his legs urged him to move, but he remained where he was and did not flinch. It had been some weeks since he had shared such close contact with another, and he did not find Sam's advance disagreeable.

"You can always stop me," Sam said, taking Spock's face in his hands and fitting a tender kiss over his lower lip. Spock felt his body begin to respond to the attention and returned the pressure of Sam's lips for an instant. A vivid memory of Chris' lips against his flitted across his mind, with the now familiar accompanying pang of longing and regret, but the sensation seemed to fade as a new warmth spread through him.

"You're not stopping me," Sam said, and pressed his mouth against Spock's, grinding against it more deeply this time, his tongue darting in to seek Spock's. A million reasons why the pursuit of this intimate contact was ill-advised flickered into being and fell into the tightly organized compartments of his mind, not the least of which was the fact that the man he was kissing belonged to someone else.

Abruptly, Spock planted his hands on Sam's chest and firmly pushed him away. "Your wife," he said, simply, steadying his breath.

"Is inside mooning over your captain," Sam finished for him. His eyes regarded Spock with a seriousness which contradicted the smile which still curved his lips. He took his hands off of Spock's face and crossed his arms in front of him, sighing.

"I could tell you that Aurelan and I have an arrangement," he said, "that she'd be fine with this if I pushed it in her face. I could lie to you, but I won't. She doesn't know what I do, and I don't know what she does, and neither of us really cares to know, so we don't ever ask. We treat each other as well as we're able and raise our kids the best we can, and leave each other to go about our business." He shrugged, taking a step back from Spock, and said, "I don't suppose you have much experience in being bound to someone you wouldn't otherwise choose."

"You seem fond of making unfounded assumptions," came Spock's terse reply. Why did he feel compelled to pursue this exchange? Sam tilted his head to one side and studied him. Unwilling to say anything more on the subject, Spock stood quietly, his eyes on the ground, tracking a stream of black ants curling around an orange rind.

Sam stepped back in front of him, and looked questioningly into the downturned face. "Well," he said, cynically, "That brought my masterful seduction to a screeching halt." The music in the background changed again and a saxophone rift began wafting through from the auditorium.

"They're playing enough oldies at this thing," Sam observed, "Although I do like this one. You don't know it, do you?" Sam put his arms carefully around Spock's waist and pressed himself lightly against him, swaying to the song as he nuzzled the Vulcan's warm, stiff neck. His lips moved against the smooth skin there as he began to softly croon along with the lyrics which carried across the parking lot to them. In spite of himself, Spock felt his reservations begin to fade as the cool breath on his neck made the fine hairs on his skin stand up.

"...Looking for some inspiration, made my way into the night, all that bullshit conversation, well baby can't you read the signs?"

Sam stepped in so that his feet nudged Spock's, each of them with one leg pressed between the other's thighs. He laid his throat across Spock's, the song vibrating between them as he gently led Spock's rigid form in a barely-moving imitation of dance.

"...Let's just say that maybe you could help me ease my mind, baby, I ain't Mr. Right, but if you're looking for fastlove..."

Absurd, Spock thought, as his arms betrayed his better judgement and closed around the gently swaying shoulders in front of him. Sam's lips played over his, barely touching, dropping tiny kisses in between each phrase.

"...had some bad luck, so fastlove is all that I've got on my mind..."

His hands dropped to Spock's hips, and Sam swayed more slowly as he pressed their bodies together. His feet began to move, and Spock found himself being backed toward the rear of the truck. The cool, whispery song being crooned against his lips was interrupted by a chuckle as Sam's mouth curled into a smile.

"...In the absence of security, I made my way into the night, stupid cupid keeps on calling me, but I see nothing in his eyes, I miss my baby..."

Spock pressed his mouth hard against Sam's, momentarily stopping the flow of song. Their tongues swirled together and neither man drew breath until Sam turned and moved backwards, reaching blindly behind him to lower the gate of the truck, chuckling softly into Spock's mouth as they continued the heated, clumsy kiss.

"...I miss my baby, tonight, so why don't we make a little room in my BMW, babe, searching for some peace of mind, I'll help you find it..."

The jacket of his uniform was suddenly too constricting, and he fumbled with the closure until it gave, and he could wrestle the garment from his shoulders. Cool fingers were ruffling through his hair, soft lips still singing softly as they kissed across his temple and cheek. Eyes closed, he managed to drape the jacket over the side of the truck bed, freeing his hands to run over the other man's back. Sam cupped Spock's hardened cock through the fabric of pants, causing him to inhale sharply.

"...I do believe that we are practicing the same religion..."

Sam was crawling back into the bed of the truck, pulling Spock in on top of him. Spock's hands sank into some kind of soft material, a sleeping bag, he realized, spread haphazardly over the ridged surface. Supporting their weight with one arm, Spock wrapped one arm around the body writhing slowly against his and began to lower Sam onto the metal bed.

A sharp squeaking noise startled them both. Sam reached beneath his back and pulled out a small, brightly colored plastic toy. He grinned weakly. "Sorry," he said breathlessly, "sorry," tossing the toy over the side and kissing Spock as the toy squeaked faintly on contact with the pavement.

Their hands pulled at each other's shirts in the struggle to remove clothing without taking their mouths off of each other. Spock pulled away to yank his own black undershirt off. Sam stretched up to tongue the smooth, slim chest before him. Spock grasped the back of Sam's head, taking a handful of short, soft hair, and pushed his nipple into full, wet lips that nibbled and sucked.

"Want you," Sam gasped against the moistened skin, and his hand scrabbled at Spock's fly. Spock swallowed and stayed still until he felt the shock of cool fingers on him, freeing his erection from the confine of clothing.

"Oh, my," Sam said, making a low chuckle, his forehead against Spock's chest as he examined the hard, Vulcan cock in his hand. "This works more or less like mine, right?" he asked, tentatively running his thumb over the exotic shape of the head. He closed his fingers around the shaft and began to stroke, taking a wet nipple back between his lips. Spock's lungs pulled air deep into his body as exquisite sensations rippled through his nervous system.

"The function is similar..." he said, barely managing to get the words past his lips, his breath coming rapidly. Keeping a firm hold on his cock, Sam gently began to turn Spock over onto his back, trying to kiss him while letting him breathe. Spock stiffened just as he lay down, the muscles in his abdomen tightening as he raised himself off of something which lay between his back and the sleeping bag. Sam's hand darted beneath him and extracted the offending object. He swore softly, tossing the baseball glove to one side and returning his attention to Spock.

"C'mere," he said, his voice tender as he lay down next to Spock and pulled his face to his, their mouths finally fitting together without awkwardness. "You feel so good," Sam said into his shoulder as they wrapped their arms tightly around each other. Spock could feel Sam's erection against his exposed hipbone as the fabric of the thin cotton trousers he wore chafed against his skin. He reached for Sam's belt but his fingers froze, suddenly inhibited.

Sam took his faintly shaking hand in his own and brought it to his mouth, brushing his damp lips across the palm before starting at the base of Spock's throat and kissing his way downward. Gently biting into the flesh just above the pubic bone, he lifted the slim hips and tugged Spock's pants off of him. His hands ran over the length of Spock's body from chest to ankle, and he sighed, taking in the sight of the nude man laid out before him.

"Do you need this as much as I do?" he whispered, lowering his head to lick at the moist head of Spock's erection. Spock lay very still, eyes open and staring up at the night sky as he felt himself disappearing into the slick perfection of the expert mouth sliding over his erection. A warm breeze swirled over him, raising the flesh on his naked skin, as the stars above him began to blur. He swallowed, forcing himself to remain utterly still. If he moved, if he so much as allowed himself to breathe...

"Another yes," Sam chuckled, approximately two minutes later, taking his mouth off the spurting cock, continuing to pump with his hand. Spock covered his face with his hands, breathing deeply and trying to steady the wave of release which threatened to unhinge his capacity for reason. He had trusted himself to Chris in this manner, but now, here...

"Oh, no," Sam said gently, reaching up with one hand to pull Spock's away. "We're not through yet," he purred, reaching down to press his come-slicked fingers against Spock's still-throbbing anus, massaging, slowly coaxing the muscles to ease.

"I'll go slow," he said, tugging at his belt and sliding his pants off. His thick, pink-tinged cock emerged, its erection lagging slightly. He gazed down into Spock's eyes and began to stroke himself, his chest rising more rapidly as blood began to filter back into the organ. Spock's own softened penis began to throb in sympathy, stirring against his wet stomach as he held Sam's gaze.

"Why don't you help me out, here?" Sam said, crawling up to Spock's head and balancing lightly over his face, steadying himself with his hands on the roof of the cab. The scent of the human's arousal overwhelmed his inhibitions and he drew Sam's erection down into his mouth, gripping the muscular buttocks to set the pace as it dipped up and down. He wriggled his tongue along the bottom, gratified to hear the deepening intensity of Sam's moans.

"Oh, God," Sam moaned, "You've done this before." In response, Spock opened his throat and gripped the tops of Sam's thighs to pull him down hard onto his face, driving the thick length as deeply into him as he could. Sam lost his grip and nearly fell, catching himself as Spock supported him, his breathy laugh carrying in the night air. He carefully lifted himself up, pulling his painfully hard cock out of Spock's mouth.

He positioned himself between Spock's thighs, his erection trailing through the warm traces of semen on the lean-muscled stomach before the head was pressed against the tight anus. Spock lifted his legs and took several measured breaths, willing himself to relax. Sam pushed, sliding in with less difficulty than had seemed possible even a few seconds before.

Spock turned his head to one side and kept his eyes closed, breathing, taking the hard flesh into his body. Soon Sam was fully sheathed within him and began to thrust. Expecting the harder, shorter movements he was accustomed to with Chris, he instead began to marvel at how different this experience could be with a different partner. Sam thrust slowly, angling himself to strike against the prostate, bearing his weight with one hand and petting Spock's cheek and throat with the other.

"Look at me," Sam whispered, thrusting harder, grasping Spock's face and nipping at his lips until he opened his eyes. He saw Sam, and the stars, and his own hand reaching up to touch the face gazing down upon him. He traced a finger over the lips which strained as Sam's mouth fell open and his brows knit, his eyes still locked onto Spock's. The truck rocked gently, its tempo matching that of every tender thrust.

"Yes," Sam choked, his voice barely audible. "Yes," Spock repeated, "Yes..." With a moan, Sam grabbed Spock's hand and pulled out, wrapping the long fingers around his cock as he began to ejaculate, rapidly stroking Spock to finish with his own hand. His mouth bore down on Spock's in a stilted, frenzied kiss as they came together.

Sam lay slumped on top of him for a long moment before lifting his face from Spock's chest and planting a warm kiss on one nipple. "Let's see," he said, sliding open the back window of the cab and leaning far in to rummage, emerging a minute later with a handful of tissues which they used to clean themselves with.

Within minutes, and with the aid of Sam's comb, both men were groomed and dressed, facing each other a little awkwardly as they stood by the side of the truck. Music could still be heard from the direction of the auditorium, and a car engine started off in the distance. Sam's mouth quirked again into that lopsided grin and he laughed.

"Thirsty yet?" he asked, turning to reach into the cab for a beer. "Yes," Spock replied, "I am." He had tasted beer before, and had found the beverage repugnant, but tonight the icy liquid relieved the dryness in his throat and echoed the taste of Sam's kiss. They stood companionably for a moment and drank.

"I must return to the reception," Spock finally said.

Sam nodded in agreement, and said, "I think I'll just stick around here until Aurelan comes back. Jim'll probably walk her to the truck. I can't stand parties." Another long moment of silence followed, until Sam took Spock's beer bottle, still a third full, and set it down on the hood.

"For fuck's sake," he said, softly, and kissed Spock's lips once before embracing him. "I'm glad we were here together. I feel good." Spock returned the embrace for a moment and released him, and they took a long last look at each other.

"I, too, have found this... beneficial," he said, "I will value the experience." He turned and began walking back to the auditorium.

"One last thing," Sam called after him. Spock turned to see him standing pensively, hands buried in his pockets.

"Take good care of my little brother," Sam said, and turned away.

For you, Spock thought, I shall.

-- end --