A/N: Just a short one, more on the way tomorrow. :)

By the time Spock's need was finally sated, Kirk was exhausted, almost unable to keep his eyes open, a beatific smile plastered on his face. His body hurt like hell; but it had progressed from complete pain to a pleasant, thoroughly fucked ache, having had enough sex to last him a whole month in one night. Spock lay beside him, content for the first time in days, his entire body relaxed and boneless. Jim knew he still ached, could feel it through their new, heightened bond- but it no longer tormented the Vulcan and therefore it did not worry him, his own body battered enough for the both of them. He was still shell-shocked and amazed that he had survived the night, the memories of his ordeal still fresh in his mind. Spock stirred, looking at him with concern and regret.

Are you alright?

Yeah, go back to sleep.

This bond thing was a bit of a pain. He could barely breathe without Spock worrying that he was hurt or upset or somehow about to die. Thinking about what had happened was like walking on eggshells for fear of making Spock feel even worse than he did already. As it was, he didn't know how he would talk the Vulcan out of turning himself in- he had to, of course; he couldn't Captain the Enterprise without Spock, it was unthinkable.

He needed the Vulcan beside him, always-he had finally admitted it to himself, could no longer ignore how he was drawn to Spock like a planet orbiting a sun, blinded by its light but unable to pull away. It terrified him more than anything. More than losing his ship- more than dying. At least when he came back from that blackness, Spock had been there to make it better. He only hoped that he had returned the favour by giving himself to the Vulcan when he had so desperately needed it.

He knew he would do it again, would die a thousand times over to save that damned, obstinate Vulcan- and the knowledge troubled him.

Did he love Spock? Could you call a series of fights, sarcastic remarks, and vague, awkward friendliness love, exactly? He certainly liked fucking him, but even Kirk knew that was hardly relevant.

Or was it deeper than that? Were they supposed to be together, in all universes and timelines, like Spock Prime seemed to assume- was there some kind of fate, drawing them closer even when they fought so hard against it?

That seemed unlikely, Kirk had to concede; the idea of fate seemed a little…cowardly…to him.

With a frustrated groan, he turned onto his side to look at Spock.

You are everything to me, you damned, pointy eared bastard. Why can't I figure out why?

Perhaps you should stop thinking about it, Spock returned, opening his eyes sleepily. You've been practically screaming out your thoughts for the last twenty minutes.

I hate this bond.

You do not. You thanked every deity known to humanity for it a mere thirty-six point two minutes ago when you climaxed for the last time.

Shut up, Spock.

Very well. He sounded smug, the bastard.

Gritting his teeth, Kirk concentrated furiously, attempting to think at a lower volume. He felt Spock's amusement through the bond and wondered how Spock managed to stop every thought leaking through to him.

Training.

"Aargh. I wasn't asking you."

"My apologies, Captain."

Jim couldn't help but smile a little, almost fondly. The Vulcan was ridiculous, but he was at least always amusing.

I felt that. And, if you were wondering, I do not need to consider our relationship as deeply as you.

Why not?

Because I am certain of my feelings, he returned cryptically, closing his eyes again. Kirk could get no more out of him.

Spock had been attempting to sleep for the last twenty-four point nine minutes, the fever in his blood cooled, the danger over at last. It was blissful to be able to think clearly, to have his entire mind under his control. All he could hear was his own, calm thoughts, neatly organised- and the Captain's, loud and chaotic as he ran circles around the problems that were plaguing him. It was most disconcerting, and also unnecessary. Spock had no such issues, having carefully and logically packed his own concerns and emotions away twenty-eight point six minutes ago after a satisfying and sensible conclusion.

There he was again, repeating the same sentiments over and over. Spock allowed himself a small moment of affection despite his need to sleep. The Captain was amusing, even with his irritatingly loud thought patterns, and Spock could not deny that Jim's worrying about his feelings was endearing. Spock, of course, knew exactly how Jim felt, having access to the human's entire mind. He just felt it more appropriate to allow Kirk to come to the correct conclusions himself- which he would, given enough time. Jim always saw it his way eventually.

He hoped the human would learn to manage the Enterprise without him. He had to pay for what he had done, for the pain he had caused to the man he cared for the most deeply. Nothing he could say or do would ever make amends for the horror, the mortifying loss of control he had forced upon his Captain, or the humiliation Jim had endured at his hands. For surely it was unendurable, to be forced, taken like an animal, beaten and broken to another's will over and over. The fact that Jim was blaming himself for all of this was devastating; and it was somehow even more painful to know that Jim would still wish him to stay.

And there was Nyota. He had caused her pain also, had broken her wrist without pause. He was not looking forward to facing her, nor could he explain adequately the bond that now tied himself and Kirk, eliminating any possibility of their resuming a romantic relationship even if she desired to. However, he calculated the possibility of this scenario at less than three percent, which was somewhat of a relief despite his feelings of guilt.

He chose to ignore Jim's further questions regarding his emotion, not wishing to place any additional pressure on his final decision. Eventually the human gave up, sprawling himself over Spock's body comfortably and falling asleep. Spock remained awake until Kirk's mental patterns became regular and soft, wanting to remember the sound and feel of him sleeping, just once.