Kirk lay quietly on his bed, reflecting on his rather embarrassing attempt months ago involving Spock and a "kink in his back." A pulse of anger and regret shot through his body, and he scoffed to himself at the memory of Spock's dismissive eyes when he had glanced at the Captain shortly after Jim's harsh realization that the back rub he was receiving was not from Vulcan hands. His thoughts now were somewhat loathsome of his First Officer, but purely from his inability to accept that Spock was not the massaging type, especially not on the bridge with every other crew member surrounding them. The thought of Spock in masseuse attire made him giggle, and his thoughts quickly faded from loathing to adoration, as they had been last night.

Well…perhaps the emotions that coursed through every crevice of his imagination last night were a bit more than that.

His face flushed at the thought, soon turning bright red at remembering the intimate details of his daydreams that seemed to be increasing more and more each day, each daydream more erotic and blush-inducing than the next.

Thinking of them made his tender skin begin to burn. Spock's soft, black hair…his perfect, pink lips…His heart now pounded…he imagined Spock in the room next to him, what he looked like when he slept…

He thought of Spock's intense, dark eyes staring at him. No other eyes made him feel more uncertain and certain simultaneously of himself. Kirk now let his imagination run wild. His body trembled, imagining Spock's sensitive Vulcan fingertips tracing patterns on his bare chest. He remembered Spock passing him in a hallway earlier that day...how sexy he was when he walked, how powerful each stride was…he blushed deeply at how he had been picturing Spock naked as he walked by him, each muscle in his alien body flexing, pulling, stretching and retreating…his inhumanly hot Vulcan skin glowing in the light of the hallway. He felt his heart melt the moment Spock had simply greeted him in passing by. That voice…his deep, beautiful voice… The heat in Kirk's body was now venturing south, and he felt the bulge between his legs feeling as much as his imagination was.

Kirk had been more than patient with his feelings for Spock. More than reasonable with restraining his urges every time he glanced over from his chair to Spock bent over analyzing research results.

…his body was so perfectly formed, his skin so much like his own, but tinted green and light purple in the appropriate places for a Vulcan….he always cautiously fantasized approaching Spock from behind in those fleeting moments…feeling up his toned back and pressing his member against him…

It wasn't until months ago at that embarrassing moment that Kirk had ever even considered purposely getting Spock to touch him in the slightest. He was not always like this…certainly not over another man…what would his friends at the Academy think of him now? Their disapproving faces entered his mind and made his affectionately-gained erection shy away instantaneously. Kirk turned to lie on his side, his face tightened and his brow furrowed. How long had it been since he had any contact with another woman for gratification? How long had it been since he had even thought about another woman in any sexual way? At first he completely denied it. Denied his feelings, his impulses, shoved every thought of Spock that did not have to do with duty to the deepest, hidden chambers of his weak human soul. For the longest time, he did not understand himself and his thoughts. He dismissed them not because of their foreign nature, but because he just did not comprehend their meaning. Why Spock? Why did his knees disintegrate when he caught Spock's gaze head on?

For the longest time, he was ashamed. For the longest time he considered his feelings and reckless fantasies an insult to Spock. A purely selfish, disgraceful insult to the Vulcan who graciously gave Kirk even the slightest hints of friendship between them, who had contributed perhaps more than anyone in the crew to each mission with his sound reasoning to each seemingly-impossible quandary the crew was caught in.

Imagine, such a logical creature - a beautiful creature - even considering Jim as anything more than his Captain. Kirk curled up in a tight ball of unworthiness on his bed at the thought of it.

I'm the Captain of a starship, damn it, Jim recited to himself. But I can't…I can't do this…I don't know how much longer I can lie to myself and Spock…

He'd waited too long. Ignored his needs beyond a human's capacity to.

Now, he needed Spock. More than ever. And he would not hold back this time.

-the day proceeding-

Spock entered the bridge and walked to his station. Kirk turned his head slightly to admire the grace of his stance.

"Good morning, Captain." Spock projected, only glancing back at Kirk briefly.

Damn it, he beat me to it, Kirk hissed in his thoughts.

"Morning, Mr. Spock. Sleep well?" He smirked at his attempt at casual small talk. He succeeded in perpetual charm and ease naturally. His trademark confidence was seeping back into appearance as he adjusted himself comfortably in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with a hand on the arm rest.

"As well as expected, Captain." Spock resumed his work.

Kirk's smile widened, relieved at the normalcy of it all.

But knowing that it would not last for very long…