((This, like All You Need and More, is a part of something larger, but perfectly clear just like this. Out of context, it's a bit of slightly kinky PWP, if you want it in context, it's what happens after chapter 2 of Water. And yes, that is kinky by my standards.

Title's from Serj Tankian's song Wing's of Summer. Very beautiful if a bit … different. But then again, it's Serj.

I did proofread this, but edited heavily while I did, so if I've missed something, please do forgive me.

If you come from Water, you can skip the first bit, which is the end of the chapter to give others an intro.

On a different note, the amount of smut I've been writing the past few weeks is terrifying. This one I didn't even intend to write, but I just couldn't help it. Now I can go back to writing non-naughty stuff.))

Jim watched everyone leave the observation lounge before turning to Spock. 'Feels strange. To leave you up here on the ship.' Now they were alone, Spock moved closer and placed his hands on Jim's arms.

'You will be able to contact me. At any time.' Jim leaned in, wrapping his arms around the Vulcan's waist.

'I know. But I'll go to sleep alone, I can't smell you or feel you.' Gentle fingers were twined into his hair, and he looked up. 'I mean … I know it's not for long, but it's the first time since we bonded.' Spock nodded solemnly and leaned down, placing a light kiss on Jim's forehead.

'The reunion will be all the sweeter.'

'Anything I should know?'

'All you need was said, and if you have questions, you know how to ask.' Spock steered Jim back towards the table, arms still wrapped around him. 'I believe we should make good use of the time before you transport down.' Jim sighed.

'I don't need to take much with me. Bones has more to do than me. I just need to be there.'

'They asked for help with technology as well, and I assume that they meant human technology. They may not understand it. Some basic equipment from engineering might be helpful. However,' he leaned back a little, and there was an unmistakable smile on his face, 'that is not what I meant, just as you did not mean it when you gave Leonard two hours.' He lifted Jim onto the table and pressed their foreheads together. 'Computer, engage privacy lock,' he said clearly.

'Privacy lock engaged,' the voice replied coolly. Jim had always thought it reminded him of Christine Chapel. He pushed the thought firmly away. The woman was amongst the many who had died years ago, and he had not been able to say farewell.

'Here, Spock? In the observation lounge?' Fingertips danced over Jim's cheeks, the Vulcan's voice barely above a whisper.

'A beautiful place, do you not agree?' Jim closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

'I do. Wholeheartedly.' He fixed his eyes on his bondmate's. 'Love me, Spock.'

'I believe you are aware that I do.' The gleam in the Vulcan's eyes gave away the humour, and Jim beamed at him.

'You know exactly what I mean.' Spock took a step backwards, breaking the contact.

'I do? I believe I shall require further instructions.' His face was cool and controlled, but laughter was dancing in his eyes, and Jim was the man privileged to see it. He felt warm inside, and happier than he had ever been before, his brush with melancholy chased away.

'That how you want to play this?' Spock merely tilted his head in question. 'Very well. You can start by removing your boots.' Slowly, deliberately, Spock raised one leg and pulled off the book, then proceeded with the other. 'Now mine. Get the traps out of the way first.'

'Traps?' Spock echoed as he did as he was told.

'You've never tried getting your pants off in a hurry and realised you can't because you're still wearing boots.' When Spock was going to answer Jim placed a finger on his lips. 'I didn't say that you should talk, did I?' The Vulcan's eyes went wide, but he remained silent. Jim was torn between intrigue and feeling guilty. 'Strip for me, Spock,' he said huskily. Again, the Vulcan prepared to speak, but he caught himself and merely smiled in that typical way Jim had come to love long before he had let Spock know that. 'Look … if you're uncomfortable with this, tell me. You don't have to do anything you don't want to.' Spock merely raised his eyebrows, and Jim smiled at him. 'You … can answer that.'

'Nothing you would do can make me uncomfortable.' The declaration was so sincere, so trusting, Jim wanted to walk over to him and hug him, but he forced himself to remain seated on the table, his legs spread wide, and grinned.

'In that case, proceed.'

He wasn't sure what exactly he had expected Spock to do with that instruction. If anything, he had thought that the Vulcan would make short work of his clothes, folding them somewhere safe, but being efficient and unceremonious. What he had not expected was for Spock to run his hands down over his chest to the hem of his shirt before pulling it up slightly, just to turn his back on Jim when he pulled it over his nipples. He hadn't expected him to remain with his back turned, bending over slightly, offering a perfect view of his behind. Again, Jim fought the urge to slip from the table and just rip Spock's clothes off. Instead, he watched him pull the pants down his hips before he slid his hands into his briefs to massage his own buttocks. 'Hold it,' Jim said quickly. 'Turn around.' Spock did as he was told and presented his front. His sex was straining against the black shorts, and Jim could hardly wait to touch him. His own erection was painfully hard inside his trousers, and Spock's knowing gaze settled between his legs. 'I want you to touch yourself.' In the back of his mind, Jim noticed that Spock was shielding, and after a moment he understood why. Like this, he couldn't hear his thoughts as he normally would in this situation. Spock was entirely silent, doing precisely what he was told.

Directing his eyes up to meet Jim's, The Vulcan slowly stroked himself through the fabric. Of course, he hadn't told Spock to get rid of it. 'Take that gorgeous thing out and get over here.' Somehow, Spock managed to pull his briefs down while walking without tripping. Jim was sure he would have stumbled at best. 'Keep stroking yourself, I want to watch you.'

Jim took in the sight before him with relish. A slight green flush covered Spock's neck, his chest, and his upper legs. His sex was swollen and deeper green. Spock's ministrations spread pre-ejaculate on it, making it glisten. He swallowed. 'Wait a moment. No, don't stop. Just … keep going.'

Unlike Spock, Jim didn't have eternal patience. He got out of his clothes fast and finally approached Spock. The Vulcan stood watching him, his hand still slowly stroking his sex. Jim reached for him and ran his hand down a muscular arm and then forward over his chest. He leaned close and sucked on each nipple until it was hard and almost as green as his erection. When he was done, he traced a path down to his abdomen. He plucked Spock's hand from his sex and placed it at his side to give him access. 'Don't move,' he said then, changing from a crouch to a kneeling position.

Slowly, he sucked Spock's erection into his mouth, his eyes up at his bondmate's face. The Vulcan's eyes fluttered shut, his hands at his sides curled into loose fists and reopened. Just as slowly as he had let him slide in, Jim released him. Holding Spock's sex in one hand, he took him back inside, going just past the head and back up, slipping repeatedly over the ridge. His other hand reached out for Spock's, offering him something to hold on to. Considering the strength of the man, his tenderness was incredible, the touch feather-light, almost cautious, as if he feared to hurt Jim. Noticing that Spock was struggling with his order to keep still, Jim let go and rose. He kissed Spock, pouring all the love he felt for him into the touch, his tongue dancing over his lips but not quite entering. Spock's arms remained by his side, and Jim almost laughed. 'You sure are disciplined.' He smiled. 'I love you, Spock. Wait a moment.' Jim hurried to the replicator and typed in a quick command, hoping that no-one would ever investigate these particular logfiles.

Jim walked back to the table and patted the surface. 'Come here. Get on the table and prepare yourself.' Spock swallowed, a bit of concern flickering across his features. 'Don't worry, we'll clean up before we leave,' Jim reassured him. Spock leaned over the edge of the table and dipped two fingers into the small bowl of lube Jim offered. Mesmerised, Jim watched both fingers vanishing inside the Vulcan, watched him fingering himself with two and then three fingers. When Jim thought he would come just if he kept watching, he took Spock's hand and placed it on the table before he positioned himself and pushed inside with a single, long thrust. A groan broke from the Vulcan, and Jim was glad for their bond because he knew that it was not from pain. For all his shielding, that much he could feel clearly.

Grabbing Spock's hips firmly, he started moving. To Jim's relief, Vulcan self-restraint was not without limits, because Spock was not still but reciprocated eagerly. Running his hands up Spock's sides, Jim leaned down and kissed his back, tasting and smelling his lover. He pressed his face between his shoulder blades, silently regretting that he was too short to bury his nose in the soft, silken hair. Jim gently prodded Spock's shield, wanting nothing more than to feel all of him. The moment the shield went, he felt Spock squeeze his member with his muscles. 'Oh God, Spock,' he moaned. 'Easy, go easy on me here.' What he got in reply were not words, not even through their bond, but the distinct impression that Spock wanted something very specific. Jim didn't trust himself with a non-verbal reply. That would be nowhere near coherent right now. 'Enough with that, say it, or just do it,' he said instead. With a fluid motion, Spock straightened and turned, letting Jim slip out of him. Jim pulled him close, their groins pressed closed together. 'You know you have as much say in everything as I do. Don't you?'

'In this, yes.' Spock lifted Jim onto the table with practically no effort.

'Well, any control I may have is because you allow it.' To Jim's eternal surprise, Spock climbed onto the table and straddled him.

'That is not entirely correct.' Slowly, he lowered himself onto Jim's sex. 'I could never hurt you.' Jim reached up, running his hands over Spock's chest to his belly, resting on his hips to control his movements.

'You think that table will survive this?'

'They are robust.' Spock plucked Jim's hands and intertwined their fingers before increasing his speed. 'Do not hold back, T'hy'la.' Staring at his lover's face above him, Jim did as Spock said. With Spock's name on his lips he thrust upwards. Freeing one hand, he grabbed Spock's sex and started pumping him in time with their movements. The Vulcan closed his eyes, while Jim kept his firmly open, watching himself disappearing in his lover's flesh, watching Spock's testicles, always higher up than a humans, contract, watching the green flush of his body get deeper, and he knew that if he changed his angle just like that, he would send this beautiful being into climax. Spock's free hand now lay lightly on the centre of his chest, fingers curling and uncurling in a sweet caress.

'Look at me, Spock,' he managed, and when Spock did, he tilted his hips. With a loud moan, Spock's grip on his hand grew tighter, and he came, his seed squirting onto his own and Jim's chests. At the same time, Spock opened their link wide, letting Jim feel his orgasm. At last, Jim's eyes shut tight. He spilled himself inside Spock, riding out the waves of pleasure until he thought he would pass out. And maybe he had, because when he opened them again, Spock was still above him, but only a few centimetres from his face. Shaking, Jim cupped his cheeks. 'The things you do to me,' he breathed. 'I shouldn't leave you on the ship.'

'There is no danger, Jim. I will wait for you, and when you are back, I shall give you a proper welcome.' Still breathing hard, Jim let his arm fall to the table.

'Can't wait, Spock. Can't wait.'

((I can't believe I've written this. My sex scenes aren't normally that … that … I don't know. They just aren't.

Once again, I go against fanon (I seem to do that a lot), and said ridge. Singular. On purpose. The idea of two ridges just confuses me. Biology doesn't do that kind of thing.

I also had a sudden, odd impulse to draw Spock's privates to offer my own mental image … Luckily, I can't draw anything beyond stickmen if my life depends on it, so fighting that particular urge isn't too difficult. My mother's an artist, but if I were to ask that of her, she'd send me to a psych ward.))