FYI, I know Vulcan is a desert planet. Screw it.
The prince of Vulcan quietly ate his luncheon. Plomeek soup, with water and fruit. Additionally there were sides to complete his nutrition quota. His body was with his parents and T'Pring, but his mind was elsewhere completely. This factor didn't go unnoticed by his mother.
"Spock? A penny for your thoughts?" She said sweetly, blowing on her lunch. Spock was snapped out of his dreamland, his head coming upright to meet his mother's steady gaze.
Of course he'd been thinking of Jim.
"I was merely thinking, mother, of our new servant." Her eyes seemed to twinkle at this.
"New servant?" T'Pring said steadily, her eyes not leaving her food. Spock didn't want to answer, he'd say too much. That was a scary realization for a Vulcan.
"Oh, Lord Pike—that awful man—brought me a slave boy as a peace offering for the incident at the ball." She shook her head in disgust.
"It was awful, the boy seems fairly young, and he has slash marks and bruises and cuts everywhere. We can't even get him to speak, except…" she trailed off, wondering if that would be good information to share with Spock's future wife.
"He is sixteen, mother." Spock said plainly, sipping his soup properly, turning the spoon towards his mouth.
T'Pring looked over at Spock, but said nothing. She had put it together, only Spock could get him to talk. She didn't feel afflicted by this, though.
"Sixteen? Oh Spock, I find it amazing how you get him to talk." She chattered excitedly to her husband and her distant son.
Lunch was over, and Spock went to his quarters, preparing for his tutoring lesson. In Vulcan, knowledge was absolutely important. Knowledge was, to put it simply, power.
He exited his quarters after changing to go to the tutoring room, but then remembered that classes had been scheduled outside in the courtyard, since it was such a beautiful day. He reached the wide expanse of lush green grass, taking a moment to look as far as his trained eye could see. The rolling mountains far in the distance, the aching expanse of trees, the fresh smell of lilac from the garden, and the smell of crisp honey from a glistening nest. The sky was a crystal blue. Pale blue.
Those eyes.
Spock shook his head, walking from under the tree's shade to the back courtyard, where there was a wide, almost picnic-like table, its silver glistening. It had a silk canopy to protect one from the beating rays of the sun.
"Prince Spock." Came the gruff voice of his slightly educated tutor. He had several tutors, but he favored this man the most. He was honest and grumpy, old and tired. Often, he made fun of Spock, but he didn't mind. He rather liked it, this man's witless banter. He liked this tutor the most because he always seemed to learn something—not just something you should know, like formulas or vocabulary terms. Spock outsmarted this man, and most of his tutors, in that area.
But when this man taught him, he LEARNED. He learned the names of the inner workings of the body, the stories and tall tales behind each of the stars. It was simply fascinating.
His parents disliked this man, L. Horatio McCoy, but when they saw the value Spock placed on him, they decided it was for the best if he would stay.
"Leonard." Spock greeted him. He was trying to concentrate on the papers and folders Leonard was unpacking, but his attention was averted to a large, walking package. Until the walking package got closer did Spock see what the figure truly was.
A man's muscular arms were wrapped around large package that towered over his head slightly, making him unable to see clearly. His legs were in loose- fitting white pants, and he steadily walked toward the kitchen, which was in the back courtyard.
When the boy walked past, Spock saw that it was James Kirk.
"Jim?" Spock said, alarmed, He was worried about him working so soon in his physical condition.
"Prince Spock." He tried to nod, but just scraped his cheek against the package.
"What are you doing working so soon? Did someone order you to?" he demanded.
"No, but I know it's my place to be doing work, not being your little charity case. I'm perfectly fine, thank you." Spock could hear in his voice his struggle to be polite in front of the prince, and his blatant rebellion.
"No, I don't think it's a swell idea for you to—" at that moment, Kirk took an awkward step, feeling for his footing in front of him, but faltering. His balance started wavering, and he fell backwards, the package falling from his hands.
Spock stood, quickly walking over to the fallen boy. He hadn't cried out, although he had fallen directly onto his back. He closed his eyes, and shut his mouth.
Strange, Spock thought. He always does that when inflicted with pain.
"James?" the prince said. He could hear Leonard McCoy's laughter in the background.
The boy merely stood up, burning holes into Leonard's smiling face. "I'm fine." He shrugged.
"Leonard, it is improper to laugh. Your social status is much higher—" at that, the man raised an eyebrow.
"Prince, me and that boy both have the same thing. NOTHING. All I got left, is my bones." The slave boy smirked at that.
"That's truth if I ever heard it." He said. Leonard smiled brightly, turning his full attention to the new slave boy.
"I ain't never seen you around, kid." The man was much older than the two, running in his late thirties.
"I'm new, but you better hope not to see me." They laughed lightly at this, and the boy picked up his package, preparing to enter the kitchen through the servant's entrance.
"Goodbye, Prince Spock. Later, Bones." And like that, the tutor became known as Bones, if only to Jim Kirk.
The hallways were lit with candles, and the moonlight streamed through the picturesque windows. Spock was walking toward his quarters, prepared for his rest, when he saw James leaving his quarters.
"James? It's late. Where are you going?" Spock said, nearing the younger teen. He shook his head.
"I don't feel right in such nice quarters. Plus, the shower isn't working, so I was gonna go sleep in the servant's area and shower there." He pulled a bruised hand behind his head, nonchalantly rubbing through his blonde hair.
Spock would have pouted, if he were five. And human.
"Jim, I find it necessary for you to stay near me so that I can heal your wounds. As for a shower…" he looked over at his bedroom's large doors. "You may use mine." The servant shook his head wearily.
"Will that be alright? I mean, will it be okay?" He said nervously. This was all so confusing.
He SHOULD be sleeping in the barn. He SHOULD have someone tearing apart his skin. So why was everyone being so comforting, and making him feel so… welcome? Loved?
Spock cracked the tiniest almost smile the human had ever seen. "Of course it will be okay." He said, nodding his head and reaching for the brass handles of his door.
Kirk nodded, making sure Spock entered the room first, making sure he stayed a good distance away from someone so… beautiful.
The boy got undressed when the doors to the shower were closed. He removed his loaned shirt, the loose pants, and his under garments. He was glad Spock couldn't see him, because his naked body wasn't just covered in scars and burns, but he was… simply put, disgusting. He was nothing. And Spock, he was… everything. He turned on the hot water, letting it run over his hands until he adjusted the cold water to make it warm. He stepped in, his leg first, then he eased his body in. He sighed as the water ran soothingly over him. He blushed at the thought that the beautiful, exotic prince was right there, only a door away.
Slowly, Kirk kept turning the cold water down, steaming his body. Finally he was done and he turned all the water off, sitting in the corner of the tub, the steam clouding his thinking. He slipped into deep sleep, the thing he feared most.
Spock could hear the water running, and it urged his need to use the toiletries. He waited until the water had been off for a good thirty minutes, figuring Kirk had to be clothed by now.
He knocked on his own bathroom door, calling out to the boy. "James? May I come in?" He waited, but there was no response. "Jim?"
Eventually he opened the door, surprised that no one was there. The curtains were closed, but since Kirk couldn't be found, Spock hurriedly opened them. He gasped at the sight before him.
The nude boy, his head slumped down onto his chest. He had fallen asleep. His hair fell into his closed eyes, small beads of water sometimes dripping onto his chest. Spock's eyes followed the water, tracing down his muscular and tan chest. His toned arms were lazily wrapped around his stomach. His legs parted slightly, deliciously. His inner thigh was pink, probably from the immense heat of the shower. Spock blushed at surveying his unmentionable parts, but that was, at the moment, irrelevant. Any other time, that would be the key thing to stare at. But in this moment, Spock concentrated on the way the poor boy's eyebrows shot up, creased in worry. His full, pink lips were parted slightly, whimpering incoherent words. His grip around his stomach was shaking. It wasn't until then that Spock noticed his entire body was shaking in fear. His whimpers grew louder, until finally he screamed, his eyes shooting open.
Spock's hand shot out to the boys face, stroking it gently. "Shhh… You are alright, James." He whispered. The boy was still shivering, but this didn't stop the blood from rushing to his face madly. He made no comment on it, though.
"Would you like to speak with me about the details of your nightmare?" Spock said, gently brushing the salty water from the boys pale face. He was aware of the immense heat he felt from stroking the boy, his hands erogenous zone flaming. The green blush on his face was apparent.
He shook his head violently.
"I-It's f-freezing!" he chattered. Spock had momentarily forgotten how the body temperature in humans and Vulcan differed. Vulcan's temperature ran slightly higher, so to Spock it had only seemed chilly. He stood up from the tub's rim and closed the opened window. He removed his shirt, revealing his pale skin to James.
"W-what are you d-doing?" Kirk said, his eyes scraping over the PRINCE'S bare skin. This wasn't right, he was a servant. His eyes didn't deserve such irrevocable beauty.
Spock climbed into the admittedly glamorously large tub.
"N-no." Kirk whispered. Spock pressed his pale, slim chest to Kirk's muscular, sun-tanned chest. He wrapped his arm around Jim.
"I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable, but my Vulcan temperature's can warm you quickly."
Kirk didn't feel uncomfortable. He felt warm and loved and safe and perfect. He sighed and leaned over, pressing his body to Spock's more. Spock's face fit into Jim's shoulder perfectly, and he felt his resolve slipping.
Jim didn't have the energy to be fully aware of his lower body parts, and he slipped into a shallow, comfortable sleep. It was the hours later when Spock was still awake, holding a sleeping Kirk, that he stared incessantly at the boy's face.
In particular, his full-pink-luscious-creamy-delicious-beautiful lips.
Spock's mind slipped to T'Pring and the love he knew he could never feel for her. Somehow, he felt it here. With this sleeping, beautiful boy.
Kirk, somewhere in the shallow sleep, had awoken. He was physically worn out though, and he didn't open his eyes. He was fully aware of Spock's presence, his arm slipped around Jim's waist. He wondered if Spock was awake, but he was afraid to check.
Spock stared at the boys many bruises and marks, deep purple lines and red impressions. He felt so heart-broken. Someone as beautiful and loving as this boy… he didn't deserve this. His fear for the boy manifested an ache of love in his heart, he was drowning in feeling for this boy. He couldn't control it.
His Vulcan side was nowhere to be found.
So he reached up to the sleeping boy's lips, and veryveryvery gently and lightly, pressed his lips to James.
And still Kirk's blue eyes popped open in shock. His long eyelashes fluttered quickly before staring at Spock.
"What was that!" He cried, his voice wavering.
How amazing. How crazy. How wonderful. How wrong.
"I- I don't know." The Vulcan boy admitted. He was blushing a dark shade of green, shocked at James' awareness.
"No, Spock. You and me, it would never work." Kirk said, squirming out of Spock's arms. He stood from the tub, quickly grabbing his clothing. Spock merely sat up.
"You, you're… you're perfect! I can't even begin to compare! I don't deserve to lick dust of your muddy boot. I don't… I don't deserve any of this!" He was ranting in frenzy, finding it a struggle in his heated state to button his shirt. Spock stood out of the tub.
"I am a Vulcan, I cannot feel. But you, James, you force me to feel. I cannot begin to understand what's happening. And Jim, you deserve our care. What you didn't deserve was everything in your past. But now that that's over, keep an optimistic look for the future." He held a hand out to the quaking boy, but he merely backed away.
"No, let's stay away from each other, Prince!" James ran away with a half buttoned shirt, in a frenzy to the servant's quarters.
The next month nearing the summer was unbearable, especially the day Kirk became acquainted with T'Pring. He learned she was Spock's fiancée, and he felt oh so slightly sick at himself.
But more than that, this distance was tearing them both apart.
Every night the prince dreamed of that beautiful boy, his naked body bathed in moonlight as it once had been. He woke up shivering, hating the… affection he felt for him.
Kirk would dream of those warm lips, that warm arm draped across him, being held by the beautiful prince.
But he knew the distance that needed to be created.