Serik carefully read the details about the report. Lieutenant Janice Lester had been on their watch list and had been showing suspicious activity the past eighteen days. There had been engineering parts missing from inventory as well, but there had been no signs of them being transferred off the ship. Compiling the missing pieces into possible usable devices bore no results into whatever it was the young woman had been planning. Those missing pieces might pose more of a threat than the missing lieutenant in the long run. She was a well-known weapons specialist.

"I have located our missing lieutenant." Serik looked up from the report to take in the appearance of his older brother. Sovik had come in uncharacteristically closed off. Having known him all his life, Serik knew whatever the report contained bode ill news. "Her ashes have been found with the waste."

So she was dead. A bit unexpected but not surprising. "We should have a team locate her last known destination before her assassination."

"I would not have come if that was the only news," Sovik replied, causing his brother to stare at him unimpressed.

"You are unhappy with the results I presume."

Sovik didn't deny his emotions. At least not why they were alone. It may have suited Sovik better following the Romulan way than Vulcan, but they were given little choice in which path to follow when they were younger. Their mother had been very adamant about following Surak's principles, and he was often criticized for not enforcing those principles onto his older brother when it was so obviously ill-suited for his person. Even now, while they were alone, he would not enforce it. He always noticed a marked improvement on Sovik's controls later whenever he did this, allowing him to, as the human's called it, blow off steam.

"Checking the security feeds, we have noticed that twenty minutes was absent from the observation room. I sent a few of our agents there to scan the room. These are the results."

Sovik handed him the PADD he was carrying. Glancing over the information, Serik's eyebrows rose marginally. A bloodied knife. UV scans of smeared blood. Small shards of glass. And finally, remnants of wine. Sovik had been thorough in his report as always, having already analyzed the blood, glass, and knife.

"Ms. Lester's finger prints were on the knife. The blood however belonged to Mr. Kirk. Remnants of a temporary paralysis drug was found on the glass as well as in Mr. Kirk's blood. The blood on the floor largely belongs to Mr. Kirk as well, but traces of Ms. Lester's blood was found as well."

"Yet, Mr. Kirk is alive and Ms. Lester is not." Serik said, placing the PADD down. "Was there any record of him reporting to sickbay?"

"Negative. However, he does own his own dermal regenerator due to the nature of his work and training. Depending on the severity of the wound, he would be able to largely heal it himself or at the least stop the bleeding."

Serik nodded. That was indeed true. "Ms. Lester has a history of seducing and killing men on the ship. She was also highly unstable thus why she never received a promotion despite her work ethic. She must have attempted to do the same to Mr. Kirk."

It was a logical conclusion; however, Sovik's bad mood did not change. In fact, it seemed to worsen. "What is on your mind, Sovik?" he asked. "You are attempting to hide something from me."

"I have caught Ms. Janice in Mr. Kirk's embrace twice before her death. While I do agree she was using him, I too feel he was manipulating her."

Serik stared waiting patiently for more details.

"The evidence does not make sense given the individual involved. For this to work, Mr. Kirk would have had to digest a glass of wine given to him. As long as I have observed Mr. Kirk, he has never eaten a substance that has not been eaten by another individual or he has not made for himself. This behavior suggests that he automatically assumes any food given to him is poisoned unless proven otherwise."

Serik tilted his head in agreement. "That is true, but you have also stated that he was romantically involved with Ms. Lester. Humans tend to make poor decisions when acting on their emotions. He may have accepted the drink from her."

"I may believe that to be true if his attitude had changed. However, this morning, he acted as if nothing significant has happened. If he was emotionally compromised as you suggested, would he not show it? He is known for being expressive with his opinions and emotions. In addition, why would he try to hide his crime?"

"He has received orders not to harm crewmembers."

"Unless in self-defense," Sovik argued patiently.

"The young master has instilled fear of punishment into Mr. Kirk. He fears the meld. Perhaps he feared nu'ri-trensu would meld with him to confirm the truth." Serik tilted his head just slightly to the left. "Though if it worries you, you can meld with him yourself to discover his true intentions."

Sovik's eyes glanced quickly away and back, leaving Serik perplexed. Why would Sovik not wish to meld with the human if he was so certain of his guilt? "What is it you do not wish to tell me, Dinam?"

"It is… not my place to say." Sovik exhaled. "We should confront Kirk and see if he denies the charge."

"I will call for him." Serik took off his left glove and placed his hand palm up. "But please be reminded, Dinam, that you are my elder. I will not judge you nor the secrets you carry. Any secret you divulge to me, I will carry to my grave."

Sovik glanced over Serik's hand, at the thin scars just above his younger brother's wrists. Serik offered a show of surrender and vulnerability showing his hand in this manner, and guilt was hidden behind Sovik's blank façade.

"I am unsure if I should speak. I wish to protect nu'ri-trensu, but I am unsure of who I should protect him against. Is it possible I wish for Kirk to be guilty because he is too close?"

"As a human once said, if you must ask, then you know your answer." Serik replied. "It is true nu'ri-trensu is spending much time with the human, but perhaps a human can offer friendship to his human half, the part we cannot reach."

Sovik's lips thinned, and Serik felt mild irritation before he defused the emotion within himself. If Spock wished to make friends with a human, there should be little problem as long as he remained vigilant in keeping himself safe. Spock even seemed happier as of late. A little more eager to finish his work. A little more alive, not just going through the motions of someone who was supposed to be.

Even under Vulcan principles, Spock always seemed empty. An emptiness that reflected the inner workings of Spock's mind. A place that should have been filled with bonds with family and friends and an entire planet worth of people was only filled with darkness. Two threads amidst an ocean of blackness was enough to keep a Vulcan from going insane, but not enough to feel whole. Even he and Sovik had at least a hundred bonds from family and acquaintances. Spock had no one.

"I still believe Mr. Kirk is planning something," Sovik stated, but he seemed resigned to the fact they lacked proof.

"Perhaps." He tried to give Sovik something to help his brother with his theory even if it was unfounded. "Ms. Lester has taken items from engineering, and they have not been located. If you locate the items, it may support your theory that Mr. Kirk is truly a mastermind."

Sovik raised an eyebrow at the word mastermind, noting that Serik was poking fun at him. "I will look into it."

"Very well." Pushing the intercom, he called for Kirk to come to the briefing room where they were residing. Kirk must have been expecting it because he was in the room within minutes.

"We do not wish to take up precious time, so we will be direct. Do you know what happened to Janice Lester, Mr. Kirk?"

Guilt covered Jim's features, and he moved his right hand to hold his left arm. "Maybe," he said quietly.

"We will give you a chance to tell us what happened last night. If you come forth with the truth now, your punishment will be less severe."

Jim shifted uncomfortably. "She wanted to see me last night. So I went to see her, alright?"

"From your tone, something else happened than just 'seeing' her," Sovik said.

Jim glared. "Look, she was crazy. She made this fancy dinner, and I thought maybe she was into me. It's not like anyone ever wants to sleep with me on this stupid ship. I took a sip of wine and realized immediately it was drugged. It was strong and knocked me on my ass. Next thing I know, she's coming at me with a knife."

"So you killed her," Serik said as Jim's story aligned to his hypothesis.

The human nodded, clearly not happy. "You guys are such hard asses, I wasn't sure I wouldn't get thrown in the booth or worse, so I tried to hide it. Obviously, not well enough," Jim muttered the last sentence, annoyance lacing his tone.

"It was obviously in self-defense. Why did you try to hide it?" Sovik asked.

"I don't know. Like I said, I was drugged. I don't remember much other than thinking 'oh shit' and trying to get out of there. I couldn't exactly think clearly."

Serik nodded. Given the strength of the drug Ms. Lester had used, it was incredible that Kirk was able to move functionally at all. He must have built a small immunity to the drug during his time as a slave. It wasn't uncommon for slavers to use the drug to keep their slaves sedated at a cheap cost.

Serik glanced at his brother, reading his facial expressions with practiced ease. He was still wary of Kirk, but the human had admitted to the crime and the evidence pointed to self-defense. There was no reason to punish him.

"You stated that there is no one on this ship who wants to intercourse with you?" Sovik asked, causing Serik to crease his brow momentarily before smoothing his features yet again. It was an odd question. It was irrelevant and could not be proven.

However, the question pulled the annoyed human's attention, snapping his head to meet Sovik's gaze, and the frail human body became rigid. "Why? Do you know of someone?"

Kirk may have said it as an attempt at humor, but the way they held each other's gaze made Serik uneasy. They both were aware of something that he was not privy to. "You are dismissed Mr. Kirk. Your cooperation is appreciated."

With a stiff nod, Kirk left, not looking back at them.

"Do you still wish to keep silent on your secret, Sovik?"

"Should we inform the nu'ri-trensu on this matter?" Sovik asked, avoiding the question. If he was human, Serik would sigh at the unnecessary stubbornness.

"He is already overwhelmed with the work load given to him by the admiralty. He cannot afford a moment's distraction. He is entrusting us to be able to manage the smaller problems on this ship that do not require his direct attention. As such, this falls under our purview."

There was protest in the way Sovik put his hands behind his back but kept his thoughts and objections to himself. For now, it will do. "May I join you in tonight's meditation?"

At the question, the older Vulcan shoulder's sagged and the corners of his face eased. "You ask as if I would ever deny you."

"There is always a beginning to everything."

Sovik's lips twitched. "I will take the first shift."

Serik bowed his head at Sovik's declaration. As Sovik went to attend his duties, Serik went back to the reports he had been given. Looking it over one last time with a skeptical point of view. While Kirk's actions were strange for him, it wasn't completely unlikely, but Sovik had what humans called intuition, and often saw what he did not. He could not completely dismiss his brother's analysis.

Opening a new message, he prepared to send out a message to all their operatives.

Priority 2 Order.

Watch and analyze the actions of the captain's personal slave and bodyguard, James Tiberius Kirk.

Thirteen days. That was the last time he had spoken to or even talked to Spock, let alone sleep with him. While Jim's work load was light, eight hour shifts with his promised day off, Spock was everywhere. When Jim arrived on the bridge, Spock was already there, doing paperwork and reading reports. When Jim went to lunch, Spock was putting together landing parties. When Jim retired for the evening, Spock was in the labs overseeing experiments.

He wondered if Spock was sleeping at all. In the middle of the first week, when he couldn't sleep, he was wandering the ship halls only to see Spock still working, overseeing a scan of some sort. Now, at the end of the second week, Spock was looking worse for wear. His skin was looking pale, there were light green bruises under his eyes, and he looked a bit thinner around the face.

No one seemed to notice, and Spock still ran the ship better than most humans, but Jim noticed a slight delay in his responses and a slight increase in irritability.

In the two weeks, they had visited four planets, back to back, with no rest due to their rushed schedule, got into two altercations, one with the natives on one of the planets and another with the Klingons. Unfortunately, Jim missed both as he was ship bound when Spock had gone down to the planets.

Spock being busy also meant Jim found a large portion of his free time opened up. Sure, he read his books and kept up with his studies, but he found himself bored soon enough. Bones was busy most of the day until late in the evenings, and Scotty was great in moderate doses. He focused on keeping the connections he had made and created a few more in the science and engineering departments, but it wasn't enough to keep him entertained.

Jim woke, groaning when he realized he had yet another hard on. Body heavy with sleep, he dragged his hands over his face, trying to deal with the reality with the situation. It's been like this for six days now. Every morning he'd be awoken by wet dreams of him and Spock. He had refused to touch himself, planning to use that pent-up frustration on Spock for when he came for him, but this was getting ridiculous. Was Spock that busy or had he grown tired of him? Whatever the answer, he'd have to do something about this soon. Sonic showers didn't help much in getting rid of the problem.

He debated taking care of it manually, but eventually decided one way or another, he was getting laid today. Might as well wait for the real thing rather than the cheap imitation of his hand and imagination. Gathering his will, he forced his mind to think of unpleasant things as he went about his morning routine.

There was one good thing about this distance from Spock. Lately, Jim was being watched. Not in that, 'feeling someone watching you' kind of way either. Blatantly, watched. People who have suddenly approached him wanting to start conversations with him or those sitting at the far end of his table when they hadn't before even if they never talk to him.

Jim memorized every face. He had an idea of who they were. They had finally come out of the woodwork. Spock's operatives and information sources. He had to admit, if he hadn't been expecting them, he wouldn't have noticed them as much, but he had been waiting to see what Spock would do to the response of Janice's death.

Not that he believed Spock was giving them orders. No, that nice little job had fallen into Serik and Sovik's lap. Jim was sure Sovik at least speculated he was sleeping with Spock. The line of questioning had ensured that theory. The beating Jim got when he resumed his training with him also seemed to indicate that as well. As for why he believed it was the twins conducting the investigation, it was because Spock seemed too distracted with everything else, and Spock hadn't changed his attitude towards him in the short interaction they did manage to have. He was 80 percent sure Spock didn't even know about Janice's demise. But with the separation between himself and Spock, they had no proof of them interacting past a professional capacity.

Finally dressed and morning wood free, Jim stumbled out of his quarters still feeling stiff after yesterday's sparring session. At least today he didn't have to go. Serik was busy and had given him the day off. Naturally, that meant he had to go bother Bones. No one else would be up at this ungodly hour. Never to disappoint, Bones was in sickbay as usual even at this time. "Bones!"

"Great just what I need, more work," the doctor scowled. "What is it this time? Bruises from your beating session or from what you call a sex life?"

"Neither," Jim grinned, plopping down across from him. "I'm bored."

"What do I look like? An entertainment system?"

Jim tilted his head. "Now that you mention it…"

The older man groaned, banging his head on his desk as Jim laughed. "I wish I never knew you."

"Seriously though," Jim started to ask as his laughter came to an end. "Do you ever leave sickbay?"

"Depends. Do people ever stop trying to kill each other on this damn metal tin can?"

Jim shrugged, and his mood started to deflate. As much fun as Bones was, watching him do paperwork wasn't exciting. He could read some more, but he didn't really feel like it after spending 5 hours last night studying. "You wouldn't happen to play chess, would you?"

The doctor scoffed. "Fuck no."

Jim sagged further.

"So you probably haven't heard yet, but it's been announced that we have shore leave."

"Shore leave?" Jim repeated. "What's that?"

"It means that everyone on the ship who submits a request can get their feet on some real dirt and do whatever the hell we want before they stuff us back in this can like sardines." McCoy pushed his PADD in front of him with pictures of a beautiful planet with various activities. "It's on Risa this time."

Jim blinked, taking in the pictures. "It's nice Bones, but I doubt I'll be allowed leave. I'm a slave."

McCoy snorted as if Jim was the stupid one. "I already asked the cold-blooded computers. They said it was fine as long as you were aware that the normal rules still apply and that any transgression you commit on shore leave will be met with twice the punishment."

Jim looked at the pictures again. He had seen pictures of planets like this, but he had never set foot on a planet like this. The planets he lived on were heavily polluted with smog hanging in the air and everyone living in shanty housing. There was no sandy white beaches, blue skies, or clean water or air. "I don't have anything to wear," he said lamely.

Seeing his hesitation, McCoy stood up and went to his side, sitting on the desk in front of him. "We got you covered. Scotty managed to replicate you some clothes. You have a whole suitcase full of them, and I booked us some rooms. So you'll have a room all to yourself."

Jim opened his mouth, and no words would come out. McCoy had thought of everything. He had even taken into the account that Jim would not sleep unless he felt secure, which in this case translated into his own room with a locked door instead of sharing. "I'll…I'll pay you back for the room."

"Don't worry about it kid. Just save your money. It's not like I spend my money on anything besides good alcohol." Patting Jim's shoulder, the doctor got up from the desk. "See Scotty about your clothes. He'll tell you what to wear when we go to the club tonight."

"I may come from a backwater planet, but I know what a club is Bones," Jim turned his head away from Bones, hiding his embarrassment. "I can dress myself."

"Yeah, yeah. Just if you do decide to shack up with some alien for the night, see me first. I have a couple of possible infections I should inoculate you against." Seeing the grimace on Jim's face, McCoy happily left.

Still a bit dazed that he was getting what pretty much amounted to a vacation, Jim made his way down to engineering. Just as he was going in, Spock was coming out. Serik nor Sovik were not at his side which caused Jim to frown. He nodded at Farrell who was standing in their place. "Why are you down here?" he asked Spock.

Spock didn't even raise an eyebrow, causing the frown on Jim's lips to deepen. Spock looked like shit. He wanted to ask when was the last time he slept, but knew better than to ask it where anyone could hear. "This is my ship, Mr. Kirk. I could ask the same about you."

"Going to see Scotty. Bones said that you gave me permission for shore leave."

Spock nodded. "Indeed. You have performed exceptionally and have adhered to the rules I have set for you with a few minor exceptions. I saw no reason you could not indulge."

An awkward silence followed.

"If you have no need for me Mr. Kirk, I have reports I need to finish."

Spock started to walk away.

"Hey, you want to come with us?"

Spock stopped, finally giving Jim that surprised eyebrow raise. Spock wasn't the only one surprised. It left Jim's mouth before he even registered what he had proposed.

"Pardon?"

"Scotty, Bones, and I are going to a club tonight. I thought maybe you'd want to spend your shore leave with us."

"I'm afraid I would not appreciate the experience the same way you and your acquaintances would, so I will decline."

"Yeah, of course," Jim laughed, trying to cover up the uncertainty he felt. "Just thought I ask. Didn't think you would anyway." He missed the downturn of Spock's lips at that. "Well see you around," Jim waved and continued his journey to engineering.

Spock watched Jim leave. It was their first interaction in a personal way since nine point four days ago. It had been… missed. Feeling his eyelids drooping, Spock continued his way to his quarters, already rough drafting the last of his reports in his head. It was the last on his list of items the admiralty had asked of him. They must have realized that not only did he complete the tasks assigned to him on time, he did them exceptionally well. He could only count himself lucky, though he knew luck did not exist, that they had abandoned their endeavor and had not noticed that he assigned a few of those tasks to Sovik and Serik to ease the burden.

With his shield in tatters and his body past his limits, he was anticipating the sleep he would have in 3.5 hours. He was until he saw Sovik standing outside his door ready to turn in more reports Spock would have to look over. Spock found he was ready to shout out expletives. Thankfully, his controls were not that far gone yet. "Sovik," he greeted and gestured for him to go into the room first following after him.

"I have come with the reports," Sovik handed Spock a PADD, noticing the trembling in Spock's hands. "When was the last time you have meditated, Captain?"

"I am having trouble recalling," Spock answered, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. "Around four or five days now."

"You have not slept in thirteen days, 8 hours, and thirty-two minutes, and you made the decision to forego meditation as well?" Sovik reprimanded in his monotone voice which Spock thought of as nagging. Closing his eyes, he reigned in his thoughts. Such comments were beneath him.

"If I were to finish by the set deadline, it was the only thing left to dismiss, and I could delegate no more orders to you or Serik."

Sovik didn't argue so his logic must have been sound enough. Spock was having trouble caring what the other Vulcan thought of him. "Will you be sleeping today?"

"After I finish these reports." Spock sat down at his desk. Sovik, however, did not leave.

Too tired to ask, Spock finished typing and editing his reports, sending them to Starfleet Headquarters, then moved on to Sovik's work. It was all as he expected until he reached the last report. "Lieutenant Janice Lester is dead?"

"Affirmative."

Spock's brows drew together as he continued reading. "This event happened thirteen days ago. Why am I now just being informed?"

"Serik believed that it was not worth the time and consideration. All evidence pointed to self-defense. I am sure you know of Janice's reputation."

"I am aware," Spock said, gripping the PADD tighter than necessary. "And Mr. Kirk was her killer?"

"Yes, he admitted to the crime. At the least, it is confirmed they were most likely engaging in coitus together."

Quietly Spock asked, "What makes you come to this conclusion?"

"I caught Ms. Lester in Mr. Kirk's embrace twice, one of those times they were kissing, the other she was attempting to stimulate him with her hand on his genitals."

Spock placed the PADD down, the trembling in his hands increasing, this time with rage rather than fatigue. "Send the report to my personal PADD, I will analyze the details myself. Also, I wish to inform you that I will be taking shore leave on planet."

Sovik's eyebrows jumped up into his hairline. "Should I bring Serik with us?"

"I will be going alone with Mr. Kirk. Your company is not needed."

"I must object."

"Your objection is noted and dismissed as are you."

Sovik opened his mouth then thought better of it, closing it and swallowing whatever he wished to say. "As you wish."

Spock barely heard Sovik leave. Where did this anger stem from? Humans were known to be promiscuous. Why would Kirk be an exception? The punishment for his transgressions would normally be cutting off their agreement, but Spock did not want to. He wanted to drag the human into a room and punish him and then take him. He wanted to see him on his knees submitting to him as he had when drugged. He wanted to ravish his mind so that the only person Kirk ever thought of and craved was Spock.

Spock went to his meditating alcove. There was an hour before Kirk and the others left for shore leave. He wouldn't be able to sleep, but he should at least be able to reinforce his shields and mental disciplines. Even he realized his dark and possessive thoughts were largely due to his lack of sleep and meditation. He would ask Kirk about Janice once his mind was more ordered and decide then either terminate the agreement or not. It was simple, rational, and logical. If he noticed that his Vulcan half did not agree to that plan, he ignored it, burying it down in his subconscious along with the beginnings of a mental bond slowly taking root.

When Spock entered the transporter room, every eye was turned to him in surprise, including a bright blue pair Spock couldn't look away from.

"What's he doing here?" Dr. McCoy complained loudly, glaring daggers at him.

"I was invited by Mr. Kirk," Spock looked at Jim. "Assuming your invitation still stands."

Kirk seemed to have lost the ability to speak as well, nodding at first before giving him a blinding smile. "Of course. It'll be fun."

"There goes the neighborhood," came the doctor's unnecessary reply. The Scotsman had his gaze on Jim with a knowing look which Kirk ignored.

"Don't be so xenophobic Bones. Think of it as an adventure." Kirk stepped up onto the transporter pad to slap the doctor's shoulder in a friendly manner. It was then Spock realized what Jim was wearing. Low leather pants that showed off the shape of his butt and hips held up with a studded black belt. His shirt was white and sleeveless that hugged his body, leaving little doubt in anyone's mind that the human was well toned and muscled underneath. Lastly, he wore black laced boots that came partway up his calf. The ensemble was simple, easy on the eyes, and would draw the eye of any being capable of sight. It was the exact opposite of Spock's simple Vulcan garb that was more suited for a quiet evening in a café.

Kirk did look around. "It's just you?"

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

Instead of an answer, he moved over to make room for Spock. While it was still middle of the ship day, it was the middle of the night in the city they were going to. Spock stood next to Jim, standing beside Scotty who looked uncomfortable at the close proximity to him.

"Energize, Ensign."

"Aye, sir."

The first thing that reached Spock was the smell. Non- recycled air mixed with the smell of various foods, burning herbs, and alcohol. The combination was less than appealing, but the slave beside him seemed to have other feelings about it, looking at the active night atmosphere of the city. The cobblestone road they had materialized on was lined with lights and various stalls selling food, trinkets, and services. There were even street performances of various talents surrounded by entertained tourists.

Jim took a few steps toward the crowded area before someone grabbed his elbow and yanked him back. "Come on kid, you can look at the attractions later," McCoy said. "I need alcohol before you go gallivanting around the disease infested merchandise."

Scotty laughed, slapping McCoy's shoulder. "Come on, McCoy. Let the lad enjoy himself. I think I might hit one of the brothels after a few rounds of scotch myself."

"Nah, I promised to go clubbing with you. I'll come back tomorrow," Kirk smiled.

"Luckily, the rooms I booked are next door to the club," McCoy pulled out his PADD and the directions to their destination. "It's just a few minutes away from here."

Spock looked over McCoy's shoulder, noting the location of the club and hotel McCoy booked. McCoy took a step away, clearly uncomfortable.

Mr. Scott lead the way to their destination. The hotel really was next door to the club and even had a connecting walkway. "I'll go on and check us in. You lads go on first."

"Alright. See you in a bit Scotty." Kirk waved the engineer off before looking at Spock. "What about you? Don't you have to go check in?"

"Starfleet supplies and books my accommodations whenever the ship has shore leave whether I decide to take shore leave or not. I may check in whenever I wish until the last minute of shore leave."

This earned him surprised looks from Kirk, but not so much the doctor. Given what the doctor knew, it probably didn't come as a surprise for him.

"Well let's head on in. Hopefully we can find a table," the doctor grumbled, unzipping his brown leather jacket.

Jim realized why when they walked in. The moment the door opened, a wave of heat washed over them. The place was packed to the brim, a majority of the bodies dancing in the large area on the bottom floor and in random places on the upper floor. The tables were obviously full too. Finding no luck on the main floor, they headed upstairs Thankfully, as they made their second round, a group got up to leave as they were walking by, so they were able to secure a table, a booth overlooking the lower dance floor. "I'll go look for something to clean this off," McCoy shouted over the music.

Jim nodded and gestured for Spock to slide into the booth first. "After you."

Spock slid into semi-circle booth, trying not to touch the dirtied table in the process. Jim found amusement at the entire process. Spock was clearly uncomfortable. "You don't come to places like this much, do you?" he yelled, sliding in next to him.

Spock looked around with an analytical eye. "I do not understand how any creature can find this sort of entertainment relaxing."

Jim's lips curled slowly into a smile. "Well, maybe we can fix that."

McCoy came back with a towel and quickly cleaned the table. "I already ordered us drinks," he said, tossing the used towel onto the floor without a care. "Jim, I know you like Budweiser, can't for the life of me understand why you like that horse piss."

"Reminds me of home," he laughed as the waitress, brought their drinks. Jim didn't touch his bottle until after McCoy took a swing from it. The doctor's face contorted with a sour look, grabbing his own whiskey shot and quickly threw it back. Jim laughed even harder, picking up his bottle.

"You owe me," Bones glared.

"What about you Spock?" Jim asked, turning his attention back to Spock and angling his body to face him. "What's your poison?"

Spock's eyes narrowed. "I do not prefer any type of poison. I rather ensure my opponents demise by physical means."

Jim's smile broadened this time with amusement. "I meant what type of alcohol do you like. Bones assured me before we beamed down that they have almost everything here."

Spock turned his head, looking straight ahead when he answered. "Alcohol does not affect my physiology the same way it does to the Terran body. My metabolism breaks down the solution too quickly to take effect."

"Ah, there has to be something," Jim scooted closer, holding up his beer by the bottle neck in between two fingers, swinging it. "No body is immune to everything. Something must get you drunk."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "If there was such a substance, I'd be mentally impaired to divulge that information to you; especially in a crowded environment where anyone may overhear."

Jim took that as a challenge. "I'll find something. Hey waitress!" He yelled over the volume, proceeding to order five different drinks.

During that time, Scotty had returned, taking a seat beside McCoy with a bottle of scotch in his hand. "What's the lad doing?"

"Apparently, he decided to take on the challenge in finding something that will make a Vulcan drunk," McCoy shook his head.

Scotty snorted and took a drink from his bottle. "Don't you know?"

"Of course, but I'm don't want to see a drunk Vulcan. Do you?"

Scotty's eyes widened. "You might have a point there."

Jim plopped back down in his seat with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Okay, so I ordered five different drinks." He proceeded to tell Spock the contents, only gaining an unimpressed look in the process. Once the drinks arrived, the Vulcan drank every single one without hesitation then looked at Jim who growled and proceeded to buy even stronger drinks.

Spock was aware that if he drank enough beverages with very high alcohol content even his body would struggle to break it all down, but he was amused by the human's determination. Also, he calculated the human would have to stop soon with his limited funds. The most Spock would have was a light buzz from the alcohol.

Sure enough, Jim's funds grew short, and he gave up, having consumed only three beers and a glass of bourbon himself. Finding a new source of entertainment, Jim went onto the dance floor, dragging Scotty with him.

Spock watched the human make his way to the center of the floor down below. There were many species of aliens here. Spock counted at least 23 different variaties. Kirk drew all their attentions. His blonde hair and vivid blue eyes were uncommon even among humans. His perfectly proportioned body swayed with the music with practiced ease, and his charm wafted off him like a pheromone that drew others to him.

In a matter of minutes, there were woman and a few men clawing for his attention, trying to dance with him, near him, and Jim entertained them all, switching partners frequently, grinding against them as they wrapped themselves around him.

"Kid can dance," the doctor muttered into his glass.

Spock had to agree. He did not understand the appeal of such an establishment. It smelled of sweat, vomit, and alcohol, the music was deafening, and there were too many people to be comfortable, but Jim's dancing made him want to forget all that. His movements were hypnotic that drew Spock's eyes to his hips, and the light sheen of sweat appearing on Jim's body made it shine under the lighting, and his shirt was quickly becoming see through as it clung to his body.

"So why are you here?" the doctor asked, pulling Spock's attention away.

"Pardon?"

McCoy placed his glass down. "As long as I've been on that ship, you've never taken shore leave or have left the ship without at least one of the twin computers. On top of that, you've been super nice to Jim."

"I believe, Doctor, that it was your suggestion to try to become friends with him rather than an enemy. Your advice has been extremely effective," Spock stated. "Jim invited me to this event, and if I am correct, a friend would accept the invitation. Am I wrong?"

"No," McCoy glared. "However, you've been staring at Jim like a piece of meat since he got onto the dance floor." The doctor leaned forward, narrowing the distance. "If you force yourself on him, I'll do everything in my power to make you suffer. Got it?"

"I will pretend, I did not just hear you threatening a superior officer.," Spock replied evenly. "And rest assured, Doctor McCoy, if I raped Mr. Kirk, I believe I would be in need your expertise as I would have lost my mind and rationale."

McCoy leaned back, eying him with obvious doubt about his intentions. It would have been easier to just reveal his arrangement with Kirk, but there was a part of him that was hesitant to. Having nothing else better to do, he went back to watching Jim dance.

An hour passed with him just doing that. Watching the human interact with other beings. Casually touching them, rubbing up against them, whispering to them. McCoy left sometime during that hour with an aesthetically pleasing blonde woman, leaving Spock alone to guard their drinks and table.

The Cardassian sunrise he was currently sipping from was surprisingly pleasant tasting despite the strong use of sweet fruits. He had diverted his attention from Kirk briefly to observe an altercation near the entrance between a Jem'Hadar and a Tellerite. A security guard had diffused the situation shortly after the first punch was thrown, stunning both of them and dragging them out. However, when Spock returned his gaze to his human, he momentarily lost control, the glass shattering in his hand from excess pressure.

Kirk was still on the dance floor, but there was someone else with him. He was tall with several inches on Jim, his skin dark, and the top of his head perfectly smooth and free of hair. He was pressed against Kirk's back, arm wrapped around the human's thin waist, trapping him in his arms as he grinded against him. Jim's arm was reaching behind him, hooking around the stranger's neck as they dance, smiling at something the stranger was saying as the stranger's thumb pulled lightly at the hem of Kirk's pants. With Kirk's pants being so tight, Spock could see exactly how the human was reacting to that attention.

Kirk's blue eyes looked up and met with his, the smile on his lips widening before leaning his head back onto the taller man's shoulder, lips parting just slightly.

The following moments went by in a blur. Spock wasn't aware of when his body moved; only that when he came to, he was lifting the man off the floor by his neck with one hand and pulling Jim away with the other.

"Do not touch what is not yours," Spock said. Even without raising his voice, his warning was loud and clear to the man dangling off the floor.

"I-I didn't…. know," he choked out, clawing at Spock's hand. "I'm …sorry."

Dropping him, the man coughed and gasped for air.

Spock dragged Kirk away, everyone moving out of the Vulcan's path. He didn't even realize how Kirk wasn't fighting him, hadn't said a word to how Spock was treating him. No, the anger that swelled within him and an emotion he could not identify was overwhelming his already weak shields. Why did he want to repress them anyway? Kirk was his. The lowly human male who dare to proposition him, dared to want more than the privilege of dancing with him, should be grateful he was left breathing.

Spock did not a specific destination in mind when he left the club through the hotel's connecting entrance, but shoved Kirk into the elevator with more force than necessary, jamming his finger against the button without looking. The moment the doors closed, Spock attacked Kirk, shoving him against the back of the elevator, devouring his lips in a punishing kiss, that cut the human's lips with his teeth making them red and swollen. His hands fisted the white fabric of Kirk's shirt, tearing it in the process.

Kirk broke the kiss, turning his head to the side to breath. "Bastard," he whispered then groaned when Spock bit down on his neck, before soothing it over with his rough, green-tinged tongue.

"Cease speaking," Spock growled, his right hand traveling to the side of Kirk's face. His fingers moving over his psi points unconsciously. His human had lost that right, allowing another to touch him so easily.

Jim flinched away from his touch, gaining another growl from the Vulcan, changing tactic. He moved to Kirk's pants, ripping it open, popping off the button and breaking zipper with one sharp tug. Every place Lester had touched, every place that man had touched, he would erase it. Kirk, no, Jim, was his. His!

With a fluid motion, he ripped Jim's shirt off his body with the use of his strength, too impatient to take it off normal way, and dropped the shreds onto the floor. Jim's body was a marvel. A piece of artwork waiting to be devoured by him. It had been too long since he had left his mark on Jim's body. Every kiss and bite mark had long since faded since their time apart. That was unacceptable.

The elevator reached its destination, dinging as the doors opened. The merits of moving to a private room almost evaded Spock. Annoyed that he'd be forced to move rather than being able to take Jim there and now.

He picked Jim up, throwing him over his shoulder, much to the human's loud protests. "Fuck, Spock! Put me down! I have legs!"

He wasn't in the mood for his complaints. A few steps off the elevator, he fished out his Starfleet ID badge, swiping it against the door lock. The door had barely opened when Spock walked through, heading straight for the bed and tossing the human onto it.

"I suggest you prepare yourself."

Jim raised an eyebrow. His pants fly was open revealing his choice to go commando for their outing. He just stared up at Spock with a challenging gaze and a smirk on his lips. "And if I don't want to?"

"It will hurt."

"Then hurt me." Jim licked his lips. "I know you want to."

Why did he bother restraining himself, Spock wondered as he took off his clothes, his eyes never leaving Jim's form. Jim was laid out on his bed, practically begging to be taken by him, begging to be punished by him. Getting on the bed himself, he ripped the remains of Jim's clothes off his body.

With a gentle hand, he brushed Spock's bangs away from his face, taking in his sleeping form. He had practically collapsed afterwards. The stoic lines had softened in the Vulcan's sleep, giving him a soft look. Jim never noticed before, but Spock's hair was so soft and silky between his fingers, falling back into place after each stroke.

Maybe he shouldn't have provoked Spock at the club. He had felt Spock's eyes on him the entire time he danced and he had waited for the Vulcan to do something. Just his intense gaze from afar made Jim excited. But after an hour of nothing, he decided to give him a little incentive to move. He never imagined he would get such a big reaction out of him.

How tired must of Spock been to fall asleep in front of him? Did he trust him enough to do this of his own will or just too exhausted to have much of a choice. Spock was completely out and unguarded. He was vulnerable in front of him like this.

Spock buried his face in Jim's neck, wrapping his arms around Jim's waist possessively. Jim should have felt trapped. If Spock wanted, he could overpower him and kill him while Jim slept or slow down his movements if he needed to escape. Jim didn't even have the knife he normally kept under his pillow. Instead, he felt calm and sleepy in Spock's arms. His eyelids growing heavy as the time passed. A few winks should be okay. Just a few minutes. Spock wouldn't hurt him. With a few more strokes, Jim fell into a peaceful sleep.

Okay guys, about 7ish more chapters until its end. One of which is a fluffy shore leave part 2 chapter. Sorry for no sex scene again. I just suck at them and have no motivation to write them.

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