Usually, it went like this: find the nearest babe, then wait two seconds for his irresistible attraction to kick in and render her senseless.
Oh, there was the occasional exception: sometimes it took a little longer for the babe in question to yield to his charms; sometimes, though not often, the babe was actually a stud-that is, a babe of the male variety; and then there was the very rare occurrence (in fact, it had happened only once), in which the babe in question was immune entirely. *That* had been a pretty serious blow to his self-esteem.
This time, it was different. Not only was the babe not a babe at all, but rather a Vulcan (which Jim Kirk made a habit of avoiding romantically, as they only had sex Every Seven Years-going into heat, like cats: the horror.), but he was also, and more importantly, Jim's best friend. Like, ever. *And* they were stranded on some awful desert planet, alone, so it wasn't as though Jim could work off the tension with a local lady, or, at least, Yeoman Rand.
This was Spock. A man he respected, admired, relied on, mocked ceaselessly, loved (as a friend of course; Jim was not the kind to dismiss Platonic friendships). This was Spock, and Jim wasn't even sure they were going to get off this godforsaken planet alive, and there were lizard things that kept trying to eat them, and there wasn't any water, and god DAMN did Jim want to bone his friend.