It was the lightest of touches.

Fingers ghosting across his skin; the skin of his lips, the skin of his torso, the skin of his hips.

Yet his body was on fire. In every spot that skin came in contact with skin, a flame was ignited.A warmth spread throughout his belly.

"Oh, please . . ." he whimpered. He should be embarrassed by this display of emotion; RAW emotion. It was guttural and so human.

"This side of you," the warm body that hovered above him murmured, "it's so new. It's SO addictive." It was his lips now; they were just barely making contact - but they were everywhere, it felt. They were driving his mind crazy, the mind that was supposed to be so well guarded.

How did this person break through?

What did he do to - not just break - but explode the walls around his mind?

"Captain!" He bit his lip.

"Don't call me that." Came a soft, yet broken reply. Maybe plea, is a better word for it. "Don't you ever call me that when we're off duty again." His blue eyes were brimming with all of those human emotions. It was too much; it was all too much.

"Please, I can't!" Spock choked on a stifled sob. He had to control himself. He had to get a grip.

Jim's face contorted. Oh, God - Spock abhorred that look. It managed to shatter his already broken soul into even tinier pieces and all of these pieces were pricking into every pore of his body.

"But . . . But we've already-" Jim paused and struggled to regain control of his voice."We're already- Look at what we're doing, Spock!" Jim sat up, hands opening and closing in anguished thought. "Why?" He choked. "Why now?"

Spock took a steady breath - it was to regain his composure. "Cap-Ji-CAPTAIN." Spock asserted, sitting his body up. "We can not have this kind of relationship. It is unethical. It will only cause trouble for us and the crew. . ." There was a long pause; Spock was slipping. He lowered his head. "We must bury these irrational feelings. We must never acknowledge them again." His voice cracked.

"Jim, please." He raised his head again; Jim's heart broke. There were tears welling up in his eyes. Spock's eyes. The man who should not have any emotions, was clearly showing that he had them and that he felt them. He was hurting.

Before Jim could do anything, silent tears trickled down his cheeks. He vaguely registered wondering where they had come from.

Why was his face so wet?

Why did his chest ache with pain and yet swell with affection?

Spock's eyes flickered with surprise, his own eyes that had been brimming with all of his pent-up emotions, now free of water.

But the pain was still there. It would never go away. It would eat at them both until they withered and broke apart underneath of its heavy burden.

"This isn't ever going to get better." Jim cracked. "I'm not like you, Spock. I can't bury emotions down inside of me - not for long. I can't forget what I feel for you." He whispered brokenly.

Spock studied his face. "You are implying that no matter what we do, it will not end well." He leveled.

Jim averted his gaze, taking a shaky breath. "Spock, I don't know much about love. It's never been given to me easily and so I've never given it easily. I've never felt anything close to what I feel for you." He returned his gaze to Spock, his eyes reflecting the conflict within him. He raised his hand and hesitantly reached out. Spock flinched but didn't retract. Jim gently touched his fingers to Spock's cheek, "I can't forget." His fingers brushed Spock's lips, "And I don't want to." He insisted. He moved his hand to the back of Spock's head, and slowly inched his face and body forward.

His eyes stayed glued to Spock's.

Spock wanted to move. His brain yelled at him to stop this but his soul burned for it. When Jim's lips feathered over his, he broke.

Spock leaned forward into the kiss, meeting it and then deepening it. He trailed his own fingertips up Jim's forearm's, his shoulder's. He stopped when they were about to reach Jim's face.

Spock broke from the kiss and pressed his forehead up against Jim's.

"This is not logical." He murmured.

"Who said it was supposed to be logical?" Jim asked.

"One would think-" He began but Jim cut him off.

"Love isn't always logical. Love has every possibility to be a tragedy."

"Then why do people continue on with it?" Spock ran his nose along Jim's.

Jim thought for a moment. "Because it's all encompassing. It's the most profound revelation that anyone can have, it can hold the strongest emotions. It's like a drug. It's addicting and beautiful and even if it ends in calamity it's still worth it. The connection is worth every bit of the pain." Jim's blue eyes seemed to tear straight into Spock's soul. It was like a mirror into the future; there was pain ahead, surely - but there was also a love unlike anything the universe had ever seen before. The loyalty and affection between them would grow into a force to be reckoned with.

But he was . . . Scared.

This was new.

It was taboo.

Forbidden.

Then he focused back onto Jim; and he knew that he, too, could not forget these feelings.

"I believe that this is our destiny." Spock assured, mostly to himself. "These feelings between us. Once, someone very close to me told me to take a leap of faith. I think this was the moment he was waiting for . . ."

Spock leaned forward and kissed Jim again. When he released him, Jim was grinning from ear to ear, sniffling back some tears.

Spock, to both of their surprise, responded with his own uncontrollable smile.

He reached his hand up to Jim's face.

"May I meld with you? May I bond with you . . ." Spock paused and took a deep breath. "May I bond with you, my T'hy'la?"