Hi, do I make you happy when I update rapidly? I hope so because I literally pulled this chapter out of the air in a day. Seriously, there are some things later on that I have ideas for, I even have some whole chapters written...for later. But this, nada, nothing! This is built simply on how much I love you guys, and how much I love Spock/Kirk fluff. 'Cause this is FLUFFY! :) With a little angst thrown in for flavoring ;)

Enjoy!

Chapter 11

Connection

Spock was aware of the human tradition of kissing with the lips; his mother had often placed gentle kisses on his forehead and cheeks when he was young, particularly when illness due to his human genes would affect him. He was also, of course, aware that Vulcans completed the equivalent of human kissing with their fingers and hands due to the high number of telepathic receptors in that area; in his adolescence an equally young Vulcan female had presented the logical argument that practice, being the only way to derive perfection, was necessary for when they became adults. Spock had been forced to agree in the face of her logic despite the fact that he had no intention of pursuing a romantic bond with her at any period in time, and his father had told him that particular motion was reserved only for those who maintained a romantic bond or intended to forge one. Nevertheless Spock had presented his paired index and middle finger, and she had responded.

He'd found the experience…disturbing.

Her fingers had been rough against his own and her mind had been simultaneously distant and clingy. Her immature consciousness had flooded his; drowning his own thoughts and observations with her intent to delve into his mind and find his emotions. Realizing her reasons for requesting this action of him, Spock had immediately pulled away and, as he abandoned the other child, made the decision never to allow another Vulcan, much less a female, such intimate access to himself again.

Jim, however, was no Vulcan, and he certainly was no female. The connections between their grasped hands tingled through Spock's body and he felt the gentle press of Jim's consciousness, totally unaware, at the edge of his own. Tentatively he probed forward alerting the colourful human mind to his foreign presence. For a moment the glittering lights and shining colours, some of which had no name, of Jim's conscious and subconscious recoiled from him, but something sparked recognition and after a moment they cautious returned to brush against him.

Spock?

In the physical reality of their interaction Jim pulled back, his hand still cupping the elegant neck, to look Spock in the eye. With a slight inclination of his head in acknowledgement of the question, Spock sent a rush of his own pleasure down their connection which was quickly followed by a splash of smugness as Jim's eyes rolled backward and his entire body shuddered. In retaliation Jim crushed their lips back together, aligning their entire bodies, and stroked his fingers along Spock's having somehow discovered that was the origin of the connection.

They stayed there, completely oblivious to the passing time, locked in the shared embrace, until the sun had sunk low beyond the horizon and the slightly panicked voices of their companions were calling for them through the shadowed orchard. Spock was the first to pull back, the voice of Dr. McCoy tearing him from whatever strange trance this bewitching human had placed him under. His internal senses struggled to regain knowledge of his surroundings, but at the moment they could do no better than educated guesses. Spock coloured violently, his cheeks flushing a brilliant viridian. Jim smiled sweetly and lifted their joined hands to brush the back of his fingers over the swell of color on the alabaster skin.

"We should go?" Spock stiffened his posture and nodded sharply in response which only made Jim laugh as the blush refused to fade. They meandered over to the trapdoor and the smile faded from Jim's face and it was his turn to flush at an inquiring look from Spock. In response he lifted their hands, gaze still averted.

"I don't want to let go." Spock glanced from Jim to the opening and back again before, with utterly inhuman movements, twisted the blonde man around so that Jim's arm crossed over his chest to meet Spock's where it passed under his back for support while the other lifted his knees. The result was a rather confused Jim cradled gently in Spock's embrace as the Vulcan stood at the edge of the entrance to the tree-house. Jim stared worriedly at the point below where the ground disappeared into the black fog of dusk.

"Spock, what are you thinking? Spock, No!" He felt the slim body beside him tense and curled himself into Spock's chest refusing to watch his death approaching and determined that if he was going to die it would at least be the in place he was happiest. There was a brief rush of hair, the sound of a quiet impact, then stillness. Jim refused to move, to even open his eyes.

I'm dead. I'm dead. Oh God, I'm dead. That alien bastard killed me! Maybe he's dead too, and we can be happy and dead together.

"I assure you k'diwa, I have in no way harmed either of us, and my parents were bound to each other in the customs of many different planets and cultures, including Earth, at the time of my birth." Jim's eyes shot open and he gaped at Spock only to have a faint amusement that was not his own echo through his mind.

"You…you're in my head. How are you in my head?" Spock appeared upset for the briefest flash of a moment before his expression hardened, though he refused to look at Jim.

"Vulcan's are a highly telepathic race, but only through touch. The majority of our telepathic receptors are centered in our hands and fingertips. Humans, while not having developed the ability to use them efficiently, also have a number of telepathic receptors, but most are clustered around your temples with only a small number in your hands. This is why human 'psychics' often press their fingers to their temples in order to better access these receptors. When two areas with these receptors meet it is very simple for one with the correct knowledge, such as myself, to establish a mental connection between the two beings involved. I apologize for invading your privacy Jim, but should you wish to dissolve the connection you shall have to release my fingers, I do not wish to break yours."

With a degree of hesitance Jim released his death-grip on Spock's fingers and repressed a wince as the comforting presence he had barely noticed at the back of his mind was torn away, leaving him feeling strangely empty. For Spock the effect of the dropped connection was much greater, though he refused to display that he had been at all affected by the loss. Truthfully, as the light of Jim's mind was ripped away something inside Spock cried out in desperate, primal, heart-wrenching pain that made him understand why the action of Vulcan kissing was associated only with those who had already formed or intended to form a romantic bond for they would either be melding to create the full bond soon or would have already done so. There would be no pain, because they would not part.

Spock's mental strength shuddered against the urge to end the pain forever; to press his fingertips to the smooth skin alongside the side of Jim's face, slightly hidden by his fringe. The golden head still lay softly against his shoulder and the press of his temple, even through the layers he wore, sent shivers of pleasure along his nerves and tantalized him with the knowledge that Jim and his shining mind were so close, so close. The voices of his searching shipmates were a shock, not that Jim noticed, and Spock carefully set the human on his feet. He received a smile and a sweet kiss as Jim stepped off into the darkness, following the sound of the searchers.

Spock stood at the base of the tree for several long seconds organizing and analyzing all that had occurred in such a sort amount of time, by the standards of any species. This human called to him as no other being had ever done in all the years, Vulcan or Terran, of his life. Spock was inexperienced, not ignorant. He understood perfectly that his feelings for Jim could be nothing but romantic in nature, but he saw many complications in the possible future. What would occur when the equipment they intended to build was finished? How would his companions react to his formation of a romantic relationship with a Terran, of the past?

This experience shall perhaps make it easier for myself to form bonds of companionship with those surrounding me. Spock reasoned, recognizing that he had a habit of keeping to himself and that charisma was a quality valued in Star Fleet leaders. Jim could teach him that. And Jim…Jim will be better off when I am gone. He shall move on and find the Terran woman with whom he will father George Kirk's ancestor. I shall be nothing more than a memory, for I could not bear to take his memories now.

Satisfied with his logic, and spurred by some protective instinct not to leave Jim alone in the dark for too long, Spock stepped after the faint outline he could see of his k'diwa's form. Even in the moonlight his hair glinted golden, each precious strand glowing as if illuminated from within. Jim turned as he spotted the lights borne by the search party, and turned back to Spock a sparkle in his eyes and his hand outstretched; an invitation. Spock took his hand without hesitation and, for only a second, let his eyes slip closed as colours and light and warmth returned to his mind. The pain of separation would dull over time, and he would take every moment of it to share this connection with Jim.

Together, hand in hand, they stepped out into the glare of flashlights.

So rather filler-y, but it is the beginning of Jim learning about the future, even if he doesn't know that yet. I honestly enjoyed writing this despite the fact Spock's being pretty stupid for a smart guy, but I'm sure he'll get over it. Sooner or later. Maybe.

See ya'll next time! :)

TTFN

Silver Dragon, Out