A/N Characters not mine. I am of the opinion that, if Spock ever moved in with Kirk, Kirk would encourage Spock to explore his emotions at his own rate. However, as he became more comfortable with his humanity (seeing as Jim is a shining example of it, and Jim is, in fact, wonderful), he'd seek out things that elicited more powerful emotion. Thus, this piece. Enjoy.
In the late evening, clouds of dust became warp trails in the reddening Iowa sky. The burning sounds of fuel against metal against exhaust streamed through one man's being, driving him swiftly down the ever-stretching road ahead. The rumbling of the machine purred in his ears, and it covered his body with goose bumps.
He was a man like no other, wearing a jacket of in the most beautiful leather skins one could find this side of the planet. A dark black helmet adorning his head, dusted with dirt and mud. Jeans, tattered and torn and spattered with brown, fit perfectly over his round and muscular rear.
Most notable were his hands. They were pale and glistening, as though they were adorned with the stars themselves. The fierceness with which he gripped the handle bars was mesmerizing. One could feel rather than see the strength hidden beneath them.
This was as close as he had come—this deep, animalistic thrill—to the truth of his humanity. Thank whatever deities that looked down upon him now that he knew a man like Jim Kirk, who was more than willing to give him this kind of experience.
It made him feel more alive than he had ever been.
He turned the pristine machine down another endless dirt road, the bright lights of home shining in the distance. The ranch grew out of the ground like an organic creation; the land would not look the same without it there.
He was nearly home, and felt, more than knew, that someone was waiting for him.
XXX
There had always been a part of Jim Kirk that had lusted after aesthetic beauty. The curves and flesh of a woman, the hard and toned lines of a man; if the person didn't look the part, well, he didn't bite. With this man, though, the packaging turned out to be the least of his worries.
But now, he leaned over the railing of the front porch, staring into the Iowa sky, listening for the roaring sounds of a bike rumbling down his old dirt roads. He saw a man, that man, pull up in front of his house, and he couldn't stop the grin from coming to his face. This man was beautiful, straddled across the silver machine, looking for all the world like a god come out of the sky.
His white teeth flashed in the twilight as the man pulled off his helmet, shaking free the impossibly black hair that had grown longer during his excursion on Earth.
"Spock." There was a warmth in Kirk's voice as he called to his friend, standing a little taller on the railing of the porch.
The smallest of smiles graced Spock's lips as he carefully placed his helmet under his arm, walking casually towards the house. "Jim." He said calmly.
Jim's smile only grew, and he met the other man on the steps, kissing him gently on the lips before opening the door wide. "Have fun?" he teased, stealing back the keys to his old bike.
"I believe the experience would be considered as such." Spock responded, taking his customary seat at the end of the small kitchen table. Jim smirked at the Vulcan's typical well-crafted response, hanging the keys on their perch by the door. "I'm glad you like it so much." He said honestly. The Vulcan merely raised an eyebrow in return.
Jim settled onto the man's lap and kissed him gently once again, and Spock sighed, content to let Jim guide him in this new, yet so intricate dance. Their tongues moved sweetly against each other, each full of simple caresses and love, so intimately expressed in the waves pulsing from Jim's skin. Spock tasted whisky and sweat, and bit down on his lover's lower lip, a simple admonishment for drinking without him. He felt Kirk smile into the kisses and growled softly, just to make his point clear.
"Relax." The Captain whispered, slipping his hands under the layers of leather to toy with the Vulcan skin. "I have to have some fun, don't I?"
"That is entirely dependent on one's definition of fun." Spock grumbled back, powerful hands holding Jim firmly in place. Jim laughed and kissed him again, and slowly, Spock let it all go.
Home was a motorcycle on back country roads, and an old friend waiting for him at home with affection in his eyes. Home was the flagship of the most powerful fleet to ever sail through space and time.
Home was Jim, no matter where he was.