A/N: I am not responsible for this. I swear! For some reason I sat down to write more Flavor this afternoon, and Herman (In case you don't know, Herman is my Giant Plotbunny of Doom) got out his leather G-String and his ball gag and told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was writing SMUT and SMUT was the only thing I was writing today. Who am I to argue?

I will admit, unreservedly, that I am very surprised at the ending to this. Cause, yeah, the sex was totally the point. But somehow Spock and Jim had other ideas .

Disclaimer: I do not own ANY of this. I want to, but no. OH, and this is totally unbetaed and just shameless SMUT and FLUFF so if there's anything wrong you can tell me and I'll try to correct it but I DO NOT REGRET A THING!

Minor Edit: I realized that during...part of it . Spock had like 4 hands. Fixed so he only has his normal two ^_^

Accidental Intermission

He should have been suspicious when he saw the dark brown color. Instead, he had ingested the substance anyway. To his credit the first nugget had been entirely bitter in flavor, and he had heard the ingredient previously described as sweet, so his guard had been understandably lowered.

It is after he asks for his seventh centimeter by centimeter square that he understands something horrible has occurred.

"Wow!" Kirk comments, as he hands over the tempting treat, "I didn't know you'd enjoy dark chocolate this much! I'll have to get some more sent with my next care package so we can share."

He freezes, but it is already too late. The seventh square has already slid past his lips and been swallowed.

"Excuse me, Captain, what did you just state?" he says, careful to keep his tone neutral. But he can already feel the physiological effects of the substance on his system.

A glance, and those blue-blue eyes are focused on his, "I said you really like my chocolate bar. You ate most of it, already! It's my mom's favorite, and she sends them to me all the time. Even though I don't really like Godiva's dark chocolate – it's a little too bitter – if you like it this much, I'll definitely be asking for more!"

They are in Kirk's quarters, watching a classic movie on his vid-player. When Kirk had suggested it, Spock had pointed out many logical arguments as to why the idea was entirely without merit. As he had predicted from the outset, his reasoning had no bearing on Kirk's desire, and the captain's use of what he himself termed "puppy-dog eyes" had won out over any logical arguments.

And now, his worst predictions have come to fruition. As he counts off his heartbeats, he can feel the drug being pumped through his system – and his control recedes to the background.

A sharp spike of fear – already, much too soon – flashes through his system, and he stands hastily. As a wave of vertigo hits him, he realizes his abrupt actions are not conducive to correcting the lapse in his abilities.

He holds a hand up to his suddenly roiling head, as a wave of vertigo hits him. He is unsurprised when Kirk looks up at him, with worry clearly evident in his eyes.

"Hey, you don't look so hot, Spock. Is something wrong?" the Human stands, placing a hand on Spock's shoulder.

The physical contact only serves to lower his barriers, and consequently his inhibitions, further. With fingertips that have a miniscule tremor – one he hopes only he can notice – he removes the offending limb.

Only to find that, once the offered support is removed, it is difficult to stand on his own. He shifts his position in one attempt to correct the vertigo, and then gives up the cause as fruitless. Drops back down to the couch, holding his head in his hands.

Cool fingertips on his forehead, stroking his hair, as Kirk seats himself beside Spock. The contact further crumbles his strict control, and Spock can feel that tiny piece of him he's tried so hard to repress – uncurling inside.

"Hey, Spock – tell me what's wrong." Kirk murmurs, taking further liberties with Spock's person than the Vulcan would typically allow. A full hand presses itself against his forehead, another squeezes his upper arm.

But it feels so good to have the Human touching him that he can't bring himself to protest.

Gathering his failing wits about himself, he answers the worry and need in Kirk's voice, "I am perfectly fine. It is simply that the substance your bar was created from has an effect on Vulcan systems that is similar to what alcoholic beverages have on yours."

He watches as a faint crease appears between the Human's brows, and then a flash of understanding – paired with a grin; "You mean you're drunk?"

"I believe that is the term Humans use to describe this state." He can hear his words begin to slur together, even though when they are traveling from his mind to his tongue they are perfectly clear. A disconnect must be occurring somewhere in his motor system, which would mean –

But his brain hurts from trying to process the line of thinking, and he leans forward without realizing it. Somehow, his head finds its way unto Kirk's shoulder, right at the junction of his neck and torso.

Inhaling deeply, he imbibes Kirk's scent. So tempting, a deep honey smell with notes of summer and marigolds. He nuzzles deeper into the crook of the neck, sighing indulgently.

"Hey hey hey!" Kirk yelps, trying to push him away, "I'm not going to take advantage of you while you're drunk! Behave yourself!"

At the absurdity of the comment, Spock finds his lips curving into something truly akin to a smile. That is when Spock knows he's completely lost.

Apparently, Kirk also finds it entertaining; "Wow. Never thought I'd have the chance to say that to a Vulcan."

Instead of commenting – the less words the better, especially considering the disconnect he had noted previously – he buries his head further into that delicious crook, wrapping his arms around his Human to pull him closer.

To be roughly shifted around, as the beautiful head on that neck swivels from side to side.

Then gentle fingers are disentangling his hands, loosening his hold on his Human.

"Spock – we're gonna go over to my bed, okay? I'm gonna let you sleep on it for a couple of hours, get the chocolate out of your system before we both do something we're going to regret. Is that okay?" he is asked, the words registering through the haze that is clouding his mind.

"Mmmmm-hmmmmm," he murmurs, nodding his head against the soft skin so his point can be understood. The contact is sending glorious tingling currents through his skin, and even without the effects of the chocolate it would be hard for him to concentrate.

And he is pulled to his feet, Kirk offering his support as he is half-dragged to the bed in the corner. When he feels the bedding bump into the back of his knees, their forward momentum is halted. Fingers grasp his hands, attempting to disentangle his grip.

But this is not what he wants, and so instead he falls backward – pulling Kirk down with him.

The Human lands on top of him with a grunt of surprise, which Spock ignores as he resumes his interrupting nuzzling of his Human's neck region.

"Spock." Kirk admonishes, lifting himself on his elbows in an attempt to pull away, "I told you to behave!"

Then, because for some reason the thought of behaving no longer matters as much, he begins suckling on that inviting patch of skin. He feels the Human freeze in his arms, as a sharp jolt of desire travels through the touch.

Desire that is not wholly his.

Purring to himself in wonder, he pulls his Human down to lave the skin at a better angle. Kirk moans, his face turning towards Spock's unexpectedly.

"Spock –"

The Vulcan responds as quickly as his drug-fuzzed brain allows, capturing those tempting lips in a kiss. It starts out entirely one-sided, as Spock presses his lips against the other man's. They feel soft, like velvet, and he has an undeniable need to experience that jolt of desire again.

So he lets his tongue dart out, a gentle lick against the bottom lip, begging to be allowed entrance into the mouth he knows will be so warm against his own. And he knows that some of Kirk's control has broken as surely as has his own – for his Human moans against his lips, opening to be invaded as Spock's own mouth captures a tongue.

Instead of a jolt, it is a flood of desire pouring into him from the contact. Begging, pleading and so delicious it makes him purr again in pleasure. He can taste a hint of chocolate on that mouth, and the taste excites him still further. Nips at that lip that is suddenly so plump and begging for it.

Until it is roughly pulled away, as his Human leverages himself up and out of reach of Spock's lips. Elbows locked, so he cannot be pulled down again by Spock's superior strength unless the Vulcan wants to damage him in some way.

"No. I'm not going to do this while you're not in control. No matter how much –" and Kirk cuts off whatever he's about to say, but Spock isn't paying any attention as it is. He learned everything he needed to know from those brief flashes of desire.

He lets a little bit of a growl into the purr he has not stopped, as he shifts beneath Kirk's suspended form. Lifts his hips upward, grinding them together in a most pleasing fashion.

Even more pleasing is the moan that Kirk releases, his own hips bucking down to extend the contact. The noise awakens the need burning through Spock, and he finds himself speaking words he never imagined saying aloud; "Please, Jim."

Another grind, fingers that have somehow found their way under his Human's golden tunic squeezing so hard there will be bruises.

"I know what I want." Gazes up at Jim, his eyes half-lidded and allowing his longing to show through. In the back of his mind part of him recognizes that he's being far too open and expressive – but the rest of him is lost in the moment, in the need coiled in his belly that he no longer cares. "I have desired you for so long I have lost count of the days and the moments that have filled me with yearning. Allow yourself that which we have both wanted for far too long.

"Please, Jim."

A hitch in that beloved voice that is more than a simple gasp, and then his own mouth is captured. He is devoured, as fingers thread through his hair and a lithe muscular body presses against his. Any thoughts beyond the moment escape before the flood of desire encompassing him, the hardness pressing against his thigh promising more than he'd ever dared hope.

A whimper escapes as the lips are again pulled away. He flounders desperate for the contact, fingers digging to pull his Human close yet again. A grin as bright as the rays of the sun, as comforting fingertips stroke his sides.

"Just a second baby, let me get rid of these –"

And then the fall of golden fabric is on the floor, and he has to lift himself so the splash of blue can join it. A knee between his thighs requesting he spread his legs, and their twin expanses of bare skin collide.

"Better." Jim murmurs, as their mouths meet again, almost as an apology for the lapse in contact; "Much better."

The slip-slide-shiver of skin against skin, and Spock is overcome with the wash of emotions flowing through him. Not only his, which are bursting out of their hidden shell and exploding to make fireworks in his brain – but Jim's; tender and soft and loving even through the rush of need.

A trail of kisses along his jawbone, a mouth suckling on his earlobe. He can no longer recognize the sounds he is emitting, and bites down on a knuckle to stop them. Then his own clavicle is getting nibbled and sucked and kissed, and even with the knuckle he's not able to silence his moans.

He needs more. Desperate, pathetic with need – everything is moving too slow, not slow enough and his edges are starting to blur between what is him and what is Jim.

Seeming to read his thoughts, a hand palms his crotch. His hips rock in response, begging Jim to continue. He can feel the grin against his skin, as Jim's lips spread at his body's response.

"You want that, don't you baby." Sweet whisper as he is stroked through his leggings, and if Jim's hand feels this good, Spock is going to explode into a million tiny pieces before anything even truly begins.

More, he must have more – the intimate pieces of Jim, he must share what he feels because this one-sided exchange seems somehow tarnished. Completely clear now of any hindrances that the chocolate caused, he knows exactly what he wants and how to get it.

Reaching forward, his fingertips brush the side of the head still nuzzled in the crook of his neck. Of their own accord, they line up with the three precious psi-points on the finely shaped bones of Jim's face.

"Please?" He whimpers, coherent but not able to express everything he wants to with that simple word. Consciously allows his need and desire to string through the word, communicating it to Jim.

A hum of assent travels through him from the lips in the hollow of his throat, a soft murmured acquiesce accompanying it. Not waiting another moment, he opens wide the link between them – washing them both in sensation.

Jim's ministrations are forgotten as the Human stills atop Spock. For his part, the Vulcan trembles as he is filled with new impressions. His desire increases a thousandfold, as his and Jim's longings fold into each other, becoming all-consuming through the link.

Beneath the hunger lies something more, something Spock does not have time to fully consider but part of him readily acknowledges. Is called to, like a moth to a flame.

Jim is traversing through every boundary Spock ever put in place, a fresh electrical current buzzing through his synapses and awakening every atom of his being.

The inarticulate whimper he emits does not even begin to express everything tingling through his skin. What's more, he can feel what the noise does to Jim – Jim, who bucks against him as his teeth sink into the tender hollow of flesh at Spock's throat.

His hand roams, awakening every inch of skin as he explores the miniscule pieces of his Jim in all their glorious detail. Grasps Jim's ass in his free hand, grinding them together as he suckles on a proffered earlobe.

Then he can feel Jim trying to think through the avalanche of sensation, as hands separate them for just a moment. Spock snarls in protest, his hand firmly clinging to Jim's face as shifting occurs.

The frustration disappears immediately when his naked thigh is brushed by something hard and promising.

"Shhhh, baby. Only takes a second."

He'll forgive Jim for the break in contact, if only because it gives him more glorious skin to touch. Licks and nips travel down Spock's chest, detouring at his belly-button as a tongue slides in and kisses the delicate flesh.

A chest is pressed against his throbbing hardness, the contact not nearly enough and he has to bite down, hard, on that knuckle. The hand not fulfilling the mindmeld tangles in that soft golden hair, holding tight and pushing – not the least bit subtly – lower.

A grin pressed against his belly, as a long slow trail of kisses travels down. Each thigh gets lavished in turn, the tension turning him into a quivering whimpering incoherent mass of need in moments. The suspense is driving him more than a little crazy, and he bites down on his knuckle again to hold it in.

A gentle nip at the junction of thigh to torso, at the soft fold of skin. And then the superb ministrations are stopped, suddenly, as the contact is removed. Through the link, Spock can feel the tinge of wicked enjoyment radiating through both of them from Jim.

Then a hand is removing Spock's knuckle from his mouth, causing him to mewl in surprise.

"Want to hear you." Jim manages to gasp, the desire also bright in both their mind's. Unable to form words anymore, much less sentences, Spock sends his wordless assent through the link – earning him a beautiful curling of surprise and wonder.

And then a tongue tip is licking a soft trail around the tip of his cock, and he can do nothing but moan. So good good good and it's even better because he knows that Jim can feel exactly what he's doing to Spock.

Several more swirls around, so slowly on the head and then he is engulfed in a warm slick perfect mouth and he gasps.

After the slow build, the sudden consumption takes him by surprise and he bucks upward into that waiting mouth. It slowly recedes until just the tip of his cock is inside the warm lips, and then dives down again.

Over and over, building as Spock thrashes and moans in pleasure. And just as he thinks he can't take anymore, and the world is going to explode in front of his eyes – Jim's mouth disappears.

His cock twitches, bereft, as he opens his eyes in surprise. For a moment he is disoriented as his own vision overlays that coming from Jim through the bond. He can see Jim bent over him, grin huge and such emotion bright in his eyes – but at the same time he sees himself from Jim's perspective. Wanton and exposed, delicious and perceived as so beautiful it makes his own heart in his side palpate in wonder.

Tangling his fingers in that bright golden hair, he pulls Jim upward, pressing their skin together as he captures that mouth with his own. Jim's lips are bruised and tender and taste so luscious between his own.

Part of him recognizes when a hand leaves his hip, his sharp ears hearing a shuffle in the drawer beside the table. The lips on his separate for just a moment, brushing against his as Jim whispers yet again.

"Never thought I'd actually get to use this. But I was prepared, just in case…"

The words trail off, as Spock's thighs are parted once again. A hand near his entrance, so cold and slick with dampness and he understands. Arches his back as one finger enters, his hand digging into Jim's side.

The edges between their two consciousnesses blur even further, as Spock can sense all of Jim's wonder and the blinding hope that somehow matched his own. He can understand the pain that comes with that kind of hope.

And then another finger joins the first, and Spock has to close his eyes as the double vision becomes far too much for his neural pathways to process. He wants to see everything through Jim's eyes, feel everything through Jim's form –

Feather-touch of kisses on his eyebrows, his eyelashes, his cheekbones. His face turns towards the touches, towards the light and warmth that flows from the man on top of him.

"So fucking beautiful, you know that baby?" Jim promises him, as he's stretched in preparation. All thought processes have been completely cancelled, are nonexistent as he is awash in a sea of sensation.

After several moments he is bereft yet again, as the fingers that have been causing such a pleasurable sensation disappear. His whimper then is so pathetic and mewling that he flushes in shame, watches through Jim's eyes as a wash of green travels across his cheeks.

"Oh, god, baby – do that again."

A shudder runs through the arm on Spock's left side, Jim's strength supporting him as he uses his right hand to guide himself in.

Stretched so far and another whimper-mewl escapes, Jim entering so slow slow slow until he's buried up to the hilt. A sigh against Spock's lips, as Jim holds himself up on both elbows – hands tangled in the Vulcan's hair.

Without having to even consciously think of it, Spock finds his legs wrapped around Jim's hips, entwined and entangled mind-body-soul. As they both lie there, Spock can no longer tell where he ends and Jim begins – they have become one seamless entity, perfect and awestruck.

The slip of sweat-drenched skin against skin, as Jim pulls out then dives in yet again. So slow, so smooth until Spock's body starts to compensate and Jim picks up speed. Automatically, Spock begins raising his hips to meet Jim on each downward thrust; increasing both their pleasure as his mouth blindly searches out Jim's.

Neither of them can keep up that rhythm for very long, and Spock can actually feel the tremble in Jim's heartbeat as the Human reaches that precipice. His ears barely register the shout that signals Jim's release, as Jim quakes inside him. They are so entwined that he feels Jim's orgasm as if it were his own, incredibly powerful and mindblowing and overwhelming –

The first wave is enough to send Spock over his own edge, and he clutches his Human to him as his body convulses with release. Under the waves of pleasure coursing through his system, Spock can feel something lock into place as of a drawbridge being lowered. The feeling is accompanied by an even more intense sense of Jim, as they are both carried away by the storm.

Spent, Jim collapses onto Spock. His weight feels perfect on top of the Vulcan, as he nuzzles into the crook of Spock's neck once again.

Spock plants a soft kiss onto the sweat-streaked forehead, letting the barest hint of a smile appear on his lips as he gently disentangles the mindmeld. More or less inside his own head once again, Spock traces unconscious patterns onto the back above him as he lies still – simply enjoying the moment.

He can tell, and it doesn't take but a moment for Jim to notice. A flash of great surprise and trepidation flows into him – not from the skin beneath his finger tips, but from someplace deep inside himself.

It is not his own, and he takes that presence in the back of his mind and wraps it in invisible wings of his own love. Welcomes Jim into his mind and his heart with open arms, reveling with his love at the bond that – somehow – they have forged.

The worry is immediately erased when Jim's consciousness feels the overflowing torrent of adoration Spock sends his way, and then Spock is left gasping as the gale force of Jim's feelings for him flood through the bond. The depth of his love and the tender care Jim holds for him take Spock's breath away.

Instead of trying to speak, Spock curls his arms around Jim and whispers the word his soul never dared to hope for –

T'hy'la.

A/N: Let me preface this by saying this is only my second attempt at smut. And this took only about three hours to write, all told.

SO? Herman with his g-string a good idea? Should I indulge his impulses every once in a while…HMMMMM? XDDDDDD