As previously mentioned, this chapter does get a bit M-rated; not shockingly graphic, I don't think, but let's just say the boys do not manage to keep their clothes on. You've been warned. :-)
This is as good a time as any to remind you all that I do not own anything having to do with Star Trek, which is a constant source of disappointment to me.
~o0o~
This is the message of Christmas: We are never alone.
~Taylor Caldwell
~o0o~
"This is for you. I… I hope you like it."
Moment of truth, here, Kirk.
Jim had known months ago when he'd settled on the idea of this gift for Spock that he was taking a big chance. After all, Spock is nobody's fool, and this particular present is… personal, to say the least. He'd felt a little weird going to all of this effort for someone who was just a friend – a really good friend, granted – but just a friend, all the same.
And yeah, Jim had rationalized, getting a dear friend a special gift that you think (hope) they'll really like – there's nothing wrong with that.
But getting a gift like that for a dear friend who doesn't know that you're damn near dying inside from trying not to let them know that you're secretly, passionately in love with them – well, hell. That's a different story altogether.
Especially when that friend is already very obviously involved with someone else – and has spent the past month avoiding you as though you're contagious.
Even as he was planning this particular gift, Jim knew he was all kinds of an idiot to be doing this for Spock for Christmas – or for anything other reason, really.
Because… yeah. Spock is nobody's fool – and once he opens this gift, he's going to know.
On one hand, this is freaking Jim out – he's not one to make his deepest feelings obvious, not if he can help it. And he doesn't do declarations of love; he just doesn't.
Knowing that he's about to do just that – and to do it without actually saying a word – is definitely worthy of a little bit of a freak-out.
On the other hand…
All morning long, Jim has been getting the weirdest, most amazingly awesome vibes from Spock... and he can't help feeling at least a little hopeful – especially now that he knows that Spock and Nyota aren't together anymore.
And Nyota – all morning, she's been acting as though she's in on a secret; she knows something, and whatever it is, Jim is pretty sure he wants to know it too.
But Spock – he's been unbelievable this morning, and Jim can't stop re-running all kinds of random details through his mind.
First thing this morning he'd rescued Jim from his idiotic exile in the bathroom, stunning him with his sudden apology for the way he'd been acting lately – and even though he didn't explain, it was such a relief just to have his friend talking to him again. Honestly, it was almost as much of a relief to discover that he hadn't done anything to hurt or offend Spock, because he'd been driving himself nuts wondering how he'd screwed things up between them without even realizing it.
Then, there'd been that moment in Spock's quarters when he'd reached out to stop Jim from leaving the room – only he'd ended up holding onto Jim's shoulders, and then his arms, and… damn.
He'd never thought that simply having somebody's hands on your biceps could be unbelievably arousing – but with Spock, it looks like all bets are off as far as that's concerned.
He can make anything unbelievably arousing, evidently.
It had been all Jim could do to keep his own hands off of Spock at that moment – and Spock sure as hell hadn't made matters any easier. He'd expected Spock to let go after that first brush of contact, to back away, but he didn't. He simply stood there, so close, just watching Jim with those intense, gorgeous dark brown eyes – looking at him as though somehow he couldn't bring himself to stop touching him, to look away.
That was the moment that Jim had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, he understood this situation better than he'd originally thought.
Because he's a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them.
More than that, he knows Spock – really knows him. Knows him well enough to understand that Spock had kept his distance for all these weeks because he was upset for some reason. And if Jim hadn't done anything to upset him, then there'd been something else troubling him – something that made him want to stay as far away from Jim as possible.
But now? Now, all of a sudden, Spock can't seem to get close enough – not that Jim's complaining. All the same, he has to admit that it's a little surprising that Spock spent the whole morning sitting right next to him – really, right next to him – on Jim's bed, when he could easily have sat several feet away. He'd tolerated – okay, more than tolerated – Jim's arm around him, not once, but twice.
He had actually reciprocated the gesture himself when Jim had been trying to avert an emotional meltdown a little while ago – and Jim wasn't even going to try to pretend that it hadn't felt absolutely amazing to have Spock's arm around him, pulling him close against him.
It was crazy, because the whole thing hadn't taken even fifteen seconds – but Jim couldn't recall having ever felt so… so safe in his entire life as he had in that brief moment.
Crazy.
But now, Spock is holding onto the that gift Jim has just handed him – and even though there's so, so much warmth in those expressive brown eyes that are watching him so intently, safe is the last thing that Jim's feeling right now.
He knows that he's not even a minute from knowing whether the new, crazy things going through his head could possibly be right, that Spock could possibly feel the same way he does.
Because, seriously – once Spock opens this, there's no way he won't know that Jim loves him.
He's nobody's fool.
~o0o~
"So… you going to open it?"
Spock can see the growing anxiety in Jim's expression, and realizes belatedly that it is likely because without thinking about it, Spock has not responded for several seconds to having received his present from Jim. Instead, he has been sitting nearly motionless, looking by turns at the gift and at Jim, without a word.
"In a moment, Jim – but first, you must excuse me while I return to my quarters. I did not bring my gifts for you into the room last night while the others were decorating, and I believe that I would prefer that you open one of the gifts I have for you before I unwrap this."
He truly has not meant to cause Jim any undue anxiety – but now that the time has come for him to exchange presents with Jim, Spock is certainly beginning to experience a certain degree of unease himself.
All morning, he has seen the gifts that Jim has given to all of his friends; each gift has demonstrated an incredible amount of thought and planning on Jim's part, as well as a deep understanding of each of the recipients.
Without any idea of what might be in this parcel on his lap, Spock can predict with a high degree of certainty that Jim has done something extraordinary for him – and that at least one of Spock's gifts for Jim will likely pale in comparison. In what he recognizes as an utterly unreasonable moment of insecurity, Spock suddenly decides that Jim needs to open his present first.
"Ummm… okay – if you want to do it that way, we can do that." Jim has gone from looking anxious to looking somewhat baffled – and though Spock cannot blame him, he cannot really explain his feelings to Jim. He places the heavy box in his lap gently down upon the bed, and moves to cross Jim's room to enter his own quarters.
Jim has not moved from his previous position when Spock returns less than thirty seconds later, two small wrapped boxes in his hands.
He hands the larger of the two to Jim. "Do you remember Mirtan, the Andorian craftsman from whom you purchased Nyota's flower?" At Jim's silent nod, he continues. "He also created this. I found myself thinking that perhaps it would prove to be useful during the somewhat tedious diplomatic missions that force us to leave the Enterprise."
Now, Jim is curious – and though his hands move to tear the paper from the package, his eyes never leave Spock's until the wrapping is gone.
Lifting the lid from the box in his hands, Jim looks down and smiles.
"This is phenomenal, Spock – how did you get him to make something this small?" He reaches down to pull out a beautifully-crafted chess set, the board no larger than the palms of his hands upon which it is balanced. The individual pieces are tiny, and Jim is fascinated by an intricately-worked knight, carved ingeniously out of crystal; it is barely larger than the tips of his fingers, and he holds it up to watch it catch the light from the Christmas tree.
Spock is somewhat surprised by how pleased he is with Jim's reaction. "It was not a problem at all, Jim. The challenge proved to be explaining to him exactly what a chess set looked like – but once I was able to show him a detailed image, he was most eager to produce one of his own." He lifts a queen from out of the box. "I believe that he has created several of these sets since that time."
"This is just phenomenal." Jim cannot stop looking at the individual pieces. "I mean, the detail – just, wow." He starts slightly as the bishop in his hand begins to glow softly.
"Whoa – did you see that?"
"That is perhaps my favorite feature of this set, Jim – the pieces, as well as the board itself, are photosensitive, and respond to changes in the ambient light of a room."
Spock puts the queen back into its place in the box before raising his eyes to Jim's again. "It occurred to me that we have frequently found ourselves in situations where we have wished to engage in a game of chess, but have not been able to do so because a chess set was simply too large to practically bring with us. Now we can bring this on missions where it may come in handy – and we need not be limited by whether or not the room in which we play is adequately lit. The set itself will react to the light, or lack thereof, so that we will always be able to see well enough to play."
"Incredible, Spock – absolutely beautiful." It is clear to Spock that Jim is not feigning his enthusiasm for this gift – and he finds himself feeling not only pleasure, now, but relief as well. "Thank you so much, Spock – it was awesome of you to think of this. I hope you know how much I truly do love it."
"That was my intention, Jim, and also my hope; I am gratified that you are pleased by the gift."
Jim's smile changes suddenly – it is clear to Spock that he is feeling anxious again as he hands his gift back to him once more.
~o0o~
"Your turn, now – no more stalling."
"I did not intend to 'stall,' Jim. I was simply –"
"Open it, Spock. Seriously." Jim hears the impatience in his own voice; he wishes it wasn't there, but he honestly can't help it.
Spock is gently detaching the paper from the package – because God knows he can't actually tear it – and Jim can pinpoint the exact moment when Spock realizes what he has unwrapped.
He's frozen in place for a long few seconds before he removes the paper entirely – and he's utterly silent as he lifts the instrument out of its box to hold it in his hands. He takes his eyes away from it long enough to look at Jim with a combination of shock and wonder that he's never seen there before.
The silence drags on – or at least it feels that way to Jim – and he finds himself talking in order to fill it.
"You were talking to Nyota, once; I heard her ask you if you played the Vulcan lute. You told her that you did – but you hadn't in a while."
Spock still hasn't spoken, so Jim continues. "I'd never heard much about that instrument, so I was curious, and I did some research."
He suspects he's babbling by now – he knows he's certainly talking way too fast – but he also knows there's no stopping at this point. "Didn't take much poking around to find out that not only did you play it – you'd come in second place in the All-Vulcan Music Competition a few years back."
"My father came in first." Spock's reply is almost automatic; he's obviously listening, at least a little, but he is transfixed by the lute – because it is, of course, a Vulcan lute – in his hands.
"So I discovered. And… well, I got brave one day when I was talking to Sarek down on New Vulcan about a shipment of supplies we were scheduled to bring in, and I asked him if he knew why you might have stopped playing the lute."
Now Spock meets Jim's eyes – and Jim has a hard time reading the expression there. "He would have explained to you, I imagine, that I had left my lute at my parents' home for safekeeping when I had last visited them on Vulcan."
Jim nods briefly. "He did – and I certainly didn't ask him any more about it, because that would obviously have brought back a lot of unpleasant memories for him. But I couldn't get it out of my head."
Spock interrupts, his voice unusually quiet. "Jim. This is not my lute – I know that it cannot be – but it is nearly identical in appearance. The only difference – the only difference – is the absence of a small scratch here along the bridge that had been present on my instrument."
He lifts the instrument to his shoulder, positioning his long, graceful fingers on the strings before closing his eyes and beginning to play. It is only a few notes – a series of chords in progression – but Jim is entranced, and Spock sighs with satisfaction.
He opens his eyes again, and is looking at Jim in amazement. "It – it even sounds the same, Jim." He glances away now and pauses, obviously at a loss for words. And that's not like Spock; a lot of times he chooses not to speak, but Jim has never seen him tongue-tied like this.
Spock's voice sounds somewhat strained as he continues, managing to meet Jim's eyes again.
"You know as well as I do that my lute was not mass-produced – that it was, in fact, custom-made for me, and one of a kind. I cannot understand how…" He gestures helplessly at the long, graceful wooden harp against his shoulder, subsiding into silence.
Jim shrugs. "Well, I guess I cheated on that one a little bit. I wasn't going to ask your dad about it anymore, but I didn't feel so bad about getting some information from the old guy."
"Ambassador Selek?"
"Yeah – I can't get used to calling him that, but I can't call him Spock, either. That's always only going to be you." Jim smiles warmly at his friend, and is pretty sure he's not imagining Spock's sudden quick intake of breath as he does so.
"Anyway, I figured he might know something about the lute, who made it, stuff like that. Turned out – well, you know this already – but I was in luck, a little bit, because the guy who made yours wasn't based on Vulcan to begin with."
"Separ. Separ of Trilian." Spock looks down at the bottom of the lute, sees the craftsman's seal there. "You found him? He is still alive and building instruments?"
Jim shakes his head. "Actually, he's not. But his daughters took over the shop from him when he got to where he couldn't do the work anymore, so they were still around. And it turned out that a few years back, before he'd gotten sick and stopped working, one thing he'd done was to create a copy of the lute he'd made for you. He'd never had any intention of selling it, and his daughters weren't going to let it go until I explained that I wanted it for you."
Spock looks at Jim for a long moment. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. Shaking his head, he tries again.
"This… this was a staggering expense for you, Jim. I cannot allow –"
"Stop. Just… just stop." Jim's not sure he knows what to say next; it's not like Spock is wrong – it just doesn't matter. "It's not as though I don't have the money; the bonus for saving the planet ended up being pretty good, as it turns out."
He stops, swallowing hard. "And, well… dammit, Spock, I wanted you to have it. Of all the things you don't have anymore – if there was something that had meant a lot to you, and I was in a position to give something like it back to you again, then that's what I wanted to do. So… please, Spock. Just let me do it."
Because now, Jim thinks, now there can't be any way in hell that he doesn't know.
~o0o~
Spock nods, placing the lute carefully onto the floor before looking back toward Jim. "I do not know what to say to you, Jim; mere thanks seem inadequate for the magnitude of this gesture. I cannot imagine the time and effort that it took to –"
"Spock." Jim's voice is gentle, those brilliant blue eyes glowing with warmth as he smiles slightly. "Shut up."
Then, unexpectedly, Jim's hands are framing his face – and gently, he leans forward to touch his lips to Spock's. The contact itself lasts barely more than a second before Jim has resumed his original position, but Spock finds himself shaken to the core.
"… Jim?" Try as he might, he cannot think of anything else to say at just this moment.
Jim laughs a little, somewhat nervously.
"Yeah, about that." He shrugs again, looking down now so that he is addressing his knees. "I'd imagine you've probably figured out by now that I have… well, shit. I think of you as a lot more than a friend, Spock. Have for a long time, to be honest. And, well, I don't know – I guess I'm hoping at this point that maybe that's why you've been acting so weird these past few weeks. Maybe you figured out you thought of me as more than a friend, too – and instead of telling me, you just freaked out and tried to stay away from me." He looks up once more, meeting Spock's eyes with a wry smile. "It seems like kind of a Spock way of handling things."
He pauses, uncertainty suddenly plain on his face. "But I don't want to put words in your mouth. You can tell me if I'm wrong – or if I'm right, for that matter."
Finally, Spock yields to the urge he has had all morning, and reaches forward to smooth Jim's hair into order with his fingers; Jim's hair feels every bit as thick as it looks, and is even softer than it appears. He is gratified by the small, pleased sound that Jim makes as Spock touches him – and wishes to hear it again. Mirroring Jim's gesture, he places a hand on each of Jim's cheeks, feeling the stubble of Jim's morning whiskers pleasantly rough beneath his fingers – then he moves to bring their lips together again.
This time, the kiss is not so brief – though it remains soft and exceptionally gentle, Spock can feel Jim's mouth move under his own as Jim's fingers make their way into Spock's hair.
After a long moment, Spock pulls away. "As usual, Jim, you understand me better than anyone else. My unforgivable behavior toward you over these past weeks was indeed motivated by exactly the feelings you described."
He reaches down to pick up the smaller package that he had brought with him from his own room. "I believe you have another gift to open, Jim. It is nothing in comparison to what you have given me, but I wish for you to have it, nonetheless."
Jim is looking at him with so much love that it is all he can do not to pull him close and kiss him all over again – but that, he knows, can wait for a few minutes more.
Jim removes the paper more carefully than usual, and stops when his fingers meet the softness of the gift itself.
"A scarf? It's beautiful, Spock." Jim unwinds the long, black knitted scarf, feeling the almost silky texture of the yarn slipping through his fingers. "You know I have a hell of a time keeping warm when we end up somewhere that's its really freezing. I don't have that thick northern blood like Chekov."
Jim is obviously pleased with it – but although he does not say so, Spock can tell that he seems a bit confused by the gift as well. He is running his hand over the soft material once again when, suddenly, awareness sets in and he freezes.
"You made this."
Spock nods in reply.
"You knitted this scarf. For me."
Spock sounds somewhat amused, now. "Indeed."
"When the hell did you learn how to knit?" Jim sounds curious and indignant at the same time – as though Spock had somehow been withholding his ability to knit from Jim on purpose as some sort of affront.
"In fact, I learned as a small boy. When I was quite young, my health was far more delicate than it is now; I believe that my system was still trying to find a way to balance its human and Vulcan elements, and as a result, I was often confined to my home while recuperating from one illness or another. To help alleviate my boredom, my mother taught me to knit."
Jim is smiling, now. "I'm trying to imagine a little Spock with knitting needles. I'd have to guess you were pretty damn adorable."
Spock chooses not to respond, merely lifting an eyebrow in affectionate exasperation, and Jim laughs outright.
Spock takes the scarf from Jim's hands, placing it instead around his neck – and if the juxtaposition of a knitted scarf against the Academy t-shirt in which Jim had slept looks somewhat incongruous, he does not notice.
"Each year at Christmas, my mother would give me a practical gift of some sort. More often than not, it was something she had knitted for me. I am glad to say that I still have a number of sweaters in my possession that she made for me in the past; as you can probably imagine, the very few tangible reminders I have of my mother are now exceedingly precious to me."
Jim places a hand on Spock's shoulder, concern and sympathy in his expression. Spock reaches up, covering Jim's hand with his own.
"I asked my mother, once, why it was that she took the time to knit garments for me when she could have purchased them with much less effort on her part. She explained to me that she wished to expend the effort – she called it a 'labor of love.' Of course, she knew that actual demonstrations of affection were frowned upon in our culture – but she said that whenever I wore something that she had made for me, I could recall that she had created it with her own hands specifically for me. 'With love in every stitch,' she said."
"I did not fully understand that at the time – like so many things that have since become clearer to me – but of late, I found myself wishing to create something specifically for you, Jim. I could not bring myself to acknowledge my feelings for you, but still I had to do something as… an emotional outlet, for lack of a better term."
Jim smiles at him then, and Spock can no longer think of what to say.
"You knitted me this scarf because you love me." As if to punctuate the sentence, Jim leans forward once more to give Spock the barest wisp of a kiss.
"Indeed." Spock does not know how he is still capable of coherent conversation. "And you found a replica of my lute because you love me."
The sheer joy on Jim's face is breathtaking – and then he smiles mischievously, raising what he hopes is a "Vulcan-esque" eyebrow at Spock.
"Indeed," he replies with a barely-suppressed chuckle.
"Jim?"
"Yes, Spock?"
"Was that intended to be an imitation of me?" Spock raises his own eyebrow now.
Jim's smile grows. "It was."
"You should be aware," Spock says in a tone that he hopes sounds appropriately condescending, "that you are not particularly adept at raising only one eyebrow."
Reaching forward, Spock brushes each of Jim's thick brows with the tip of one finger. "Even when I am fairly certain you intend to raise only one, in fact, they both go up."
As he had intended, Jim laughs at this observation before pulling Spock closer and kissing him again – longer, this time, which Spock wholeheartedly approves. When they stop, Jim does not lean back, but whispers against Spock's lips – a sensation that Spock finds to be almost painfully arousing.
"Well, I suppose that's all right, since I do have other talents."
Spock feels his breath mingling with Jim's as he whispers against Jim's mouth as well. "I would not be averse to learning more about those… talents, should you be inclined to demonstrate."
He can hardly believe that he is being so forward – but this is Jim, and there is nothing he cannot say to Jim.
And in fact, Jim throws his head back and laughs once more, delightedly. "Why, you brazen hussy. I had no idea."
~o0o~
This can't be real.
He'd gone to bed last night feeling drained, exhausted – and almost unbearably lonely. And now, not even twelve hours later…
Jim is vaguely aware of the still-blinking lights of the tree behind him, the crackle of the simulated fire in the corner, the stack of gifts on the floor at his feet from the family of friends who somehow care about him as much as he cares about them.
And amazing as all of that is – and it really is – it all fades into insignificance in comparison to the knowledge that Spock loves him.
Loves him.
The universe has shrunk down to almost nothing now – he's here, and Spock's here, and for these brief moments, there is no one else.
Jim knows he must be staring at Spock like a love-struck idiot, but it's pretty clear that Spock doesn't mind. In fact, he seems to like it – or at least that's the impression Jim gets when he moves close to kiss him yet again.
He'd had no idea that Spock's lips would be so soft, that he'd smell so good and taste even better. This is so, so much hotter than he'd ever imagined – not, of course, that he'd ever have admitted to fantasizing about his first officer's mouth.
And now the aforementioned first officer has broken away, just the slightest bit.
"Jim."
There is so much love in Spock's voice, and he looks happier, perhaps, than Jim has ever seen him – his mouth isn't smiling, but his eyes are, and he seems almost to radiate contentment.
"Spock."
Jim can't fight the huge smile that wants to take up residence on his face, any more than he can fight the urge to run his fingers through that silky, ridiculously well-ordered hair – just to mess it up a little.
So what if it falls right back into place?
"You are… you are happy, Jim?"
Of course he knows the answer to that already – the guy's a touch telepath, and God knows they've been doing their share of touching over the past few minutes. But there's a tentative undercurrent in his voice that goes straight to Jim's heart, and it's clear that Spock wants to hear it, all the same.
Jim totally gets that – and he has no problem providing Spock with the reassurance he's looking for. "I don't even have the words for it, Spock – I'm happier than I even knew I was able to feel."
Absently, he runs his fingertips gently across the back of Spock's hand – and is momentarily taken aback by the sudden jolt of reaction he gets. Because of course he'd forgotten – just briefly – that Vulcan hands are insanely sensitive, and a noted erogenous zone for them. What he'd meant as a comforting gesture – well, it was pretty obvious that "comforting" was not the way Spock had felt it.
Even if he hadn't been meaning to turn Spock on intentionally, he's sure not going to pass up the chance to do it now.
In a moment of inspiration, Jim lifts his index finger and moves it to trace a teasingly light outline of Spock's hand as it rests on Jim's knee – up the side of his thumb and back down again, up the index finger and down, and so on. If he didn't know better, Jim might be concerned that Spock doesn't like it – he's gone completely motionless for nearly a full minute, staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes. But then Spock draws a deep, trembling breath and starts to actually quiver under Jim's gentle touch.
And getting past that famous Vulcan control – God, that is such a turn-on that Jim wants more of it, wants it now. He takes Spock's hand in his, turning it over so that he can draw soft, slow circles in the surprisingly soft palm with one fingertip – and all the while, he never breaks eye contact, watching with fierce satisfaction as the warm brown velvet of Spock's eyes darkens to black. Spock remains completely still, but makes a tiny sound deep in his throat that might have been a moan.
A spike of heat rushes through Jim with painful urgency; he wants me – wants me as much as I want him.
Without thinking, Jim lifts Spock's hand to his lips, gently brushing a kiss into the palm before beginning to trace the circle once more – only now with the tip of his tongue.
The sound Spock makes now is unquestionably a moan; at this new contact, his eyes drift shut and his head drops back in what is obviously pure pleasure. Jim has never seen him so completely out of it; he's warm and pliant in Jim's hands, and it is all just so unbearably exciting that Jim knows that he could easily come right now, just watching Spock like this.
That's not how Jim wants it, though; hot as this is, he wants so much more.
Without warning, the hand in his shifts, and Jim finds his wrist caught gently but inescapably in strong Vulcan fingers. Spock's eyes are locked on his now, and Jim knows that somehow the tide has turned; if he'd had control of this situation, he most certainly doesn't anymore.
Coherent thought stops for a moment – maybe more – as Spock seizes Jim's other wrist as well, using the momentum of that gesture to pull Jim down onto the bed. Next thing he knows, he's flat on his back, wrists pinned over his head in one of Spock's hands, and Spock has straddled him before swooping down to take his mouth in the most devastatingly thorough kiss Jim has ever known.
Now it's Jim who's quivering – and he can hear himself moaning, knows he's utterly lost, doesn't care. And it's almost like Spock can sense the moment when Jim surrenders totally – of course he can, idiot – and he growls – actually growls – in a thrillingly uninhibited sound of absolute satisfaction and complete possession.
Jim's hips are moving of their own volition now, and he feels sparks shooting through him as his own hardness grinds against Spock's. Spock lets go of his wrists, using both hands to pull Jim's shirt off over his head; when it doesn't come off easily, Spock growls again – and God, how hot is that? – and impatiently pulls until the fabric comes away with a satisfying ripping sound.
Now, that hot mouth is placing soft, open-mouthed kisses across Jim's chest before moving up to lick the spot on Jim's neck where his pulse is hammering frantically. Jim's fingers attempt to undo Spock's shirt as well – and when he's stymied by the alien fastenings, Spock gently bats his hands away before swiftly removing the garment himself.
Then… oh, God. The skin-to-skin contact when Spock leans back down to take his mouth again, and their bare chests are together for the first time…
Unbelievable.
The sudden, overwhelming urge to have more of Spock, all of Spock, now crashes across Jim in a tidal wave of sheer need. Taking Spock by surprise, Jim rolls them both over so that without ever breaking the kiss, they're now lying on their sides facing one another – and Jim has much more freedom to let his hands roam where they will.
Jim caresses unexpectedly silky skin over the sinewy contours of Spock's back before allowing his hands to slip under the waistband of the soft black pants that must be Spock's version of pajamas; he has to admit that he's always been just a little obsessed with his first officer's exceptionally fine ass, and he's certainly not going to miss the opportunity to get his hands on that particular part of Spock's anatomy.
Spock doesn't seem to have any objections at all to the increasingly… personal nature of Jim's caresses. In fact, he evidently decides that Jim has hit on an excellent idea, as his own hands move under the elastic of Jim's waistband as well.
Jim feels those strong hands cupping his backside, pulling him impossibly closer so that they're grinding almost mindlessly against one another now, their kiss having morphed from something slow and loving to a fierce duel of clashing teeth and tongues.
Looking back later, he'll never know which one of them had gotten the idea to lose the pajama pants – but by some sort of unspoken agreement, they're gone, and without really knowing how it happened, Jim has taken his own erection and Spock's in his hand, stroking them together with a strong, sure rhythm. The feeling of his own hard length against Spock's is indescribable; Jim had never had the slightest idea that anything – anything – could feel like this.
Even as his hand continues to stroke them both, Jim is kissing Spock's throat, marking him with tiny bites that will hopefully be concealed under his Science blues. If the marks end up showing, though, that's okay with Jim, too.
Let everybody know he's mine. Mine.
Then Spock pulls Jim's hand away from them both, and Jim hears himself actually whimpering in protest, and that's just all kinds of humiliating until he realizes that Spock wishes to replace Jim's hand with his own.
And then, damn.
Now Jim can't breathe, can't think – because this is a whole new ballgame. Spock – damn it all, Spock is cheating, because he can pick up on Jim's thoughts and sensations through their touch, and is using that knowledge of exactly what he likes best to make Jim fall apart completely.
God knows it doesn't take long.
Even as he's driving Jim crazy with those sure, strong hands, Spock is kissing his neck almost frantically, whispering unintelligible words against Jim's hair; even without more than a rudimentary understanding of Vulcan, Jim recognizes them as words of endearment.
"Ashayam, k'diwa – my Jim."
Spock's voice sounds as broken as Jim feels – somewhere in the maelstrom that his mind has become, he can't imagine how they're surviving this moment without bursting into flames.
Jim feels Spock's breathing becoming faster and shallower – much like his own has been for quite some time now – and his smooth motion of his hand around them both is increasingly erratic. He's near the edge – Jim's no touch telepath, but he can tell that all the same.
"Don't hold back – not now." He hardly recognizes his own voice. "Let go – come for me, Spock."
Spock draws a deep, shuddering breath, and fathomless black eyes are burning into his own as his entire body tenses.
If Jim had been capable of thinking about it, he might have expected Spock to cry out when he reached climax – instead, he barely whispers Jim's name before Jim feels Spock's release coming hot and powerful between them.
That's all it takes to send Jim over the edge as well; he's moaning Spock's name over and over before his body is rocked by the force of his orgasm, and his vision explodes in vivid light before the world goes dark around him.
~o0o~
The room is quiet now; Spock opens his eyes to look down at the man in his arms, realizing with something like amazement that this had been real, and not yet another of his futile fantasies. Jim is here, pressed warmly against him, their bodies still entwined. Though Jim has yet to regain consciousness 11.8 minutes after their somewhat explosive encounter, Spock is not concerned; it is clear that Jim has subsided into sleep again, which is thoroughly understandable.
Rather than waking him, Spock reaches onto the floor for what is left of Jim's shirt, using the scrap of fabric to clean most of the fluid off of their abdomens before pulling one of Jim's blankets over them both and assuming a more comfortable position. He does not wish to disturb Jim by rising from the bed – and he has to admit that he, too, is physically exhausted by the events of the morning.
Spock pulls Jim closer; he nestles into the curve of Spock's shoulder with a contented sigh before relaxing completely again. Spock follows Jim into sleep, as he would follow him everywhere.
It is nearly three hours later when Spock is brought back to awareness; Jim is beginning to stir, and will also be awake soon.
"It really happened."
Spock feels the whisper against his neck as much as he hears it; Jim burrows into the pillow – and into Spock's shoulder – more firmly, and Spock feels his arms tighten around Jim instinctively.
"It really did, Jim. Though it might interest you to know that my first thoughts upon awakening mirrored your own; I initially had difficulty believing that what we shared could have been real."
Jim chuckles, and it is a wonderful, warm sound that wraps around Spock like the strong arms that encircle him even now. "It was pretty damn mind-blowing, that's for sure."
Spock finds himself fighting yet another surge of insecurity; even though he knows now that Jim's sexual experience was not nearly as extensive as had been reported, it was almost certainly more extensive than his own. Other than a couple of unsuccessful attempts at intimacy with Nyota, this is the first time he has ever engaged in this kind of activity, and he hopes that his lack of expertise did not adversely affect Jim's enjoyment.
"It's never been like that for me before, Spock – not ever." Yet again, it is as though Jim is reading his thoughts – and Spock is filled with the sudden certainty that the two of them, he and Jim, are two halves of a whole, destined to be together. Each of them is worthy and admirable in his own right – but they are so much better together, creating a whole that is exponentially greater than the sum of its parts.
In this moment, he loves Jim as he has never loved another being in his entire life. The realization that he will feel this way forever would have terrified him before; he welcomes it now.
Brilliant blue eyes stare intently into his own; it is as though Jim is trying somehow to see into him. "And in case you hadn't quite figured this out, I don't ever want to do anything like that again with anybody but you."
Spock has indeed suspected this, but feels oddly comforted to hear the confirmation from Jim himself. "That sentiment is, as you probably realize, entirely mutual."
Jim smiles, leaning over to softly kiss Spock on one cheek – and the unexpected tenderness of that gesture momentarily takes Spock's breath away.
Jim is stretching now, in preparation for leaving the bed. "Don't know about you, Spock, but I could do with a shower."
His eyes sparkle as his smile turns just a bit wicked. "And in the interest of conservation, I think you'd agree that it's best that we take a shower together to save water."
"I doubt most sincerely that any water would be conserved as a result of our sharing a shower; However…" Spock feels the corners of his mouth twitch as he suppresses a grin. "…your idea is not without some scientific merit, and bears researching."
Jim is laughing as he rolls out of bed; Spock finds that he truly loves being able to make Jim laugh.
"I did mention to you that I love you, right, Spock?"
"Perhaps not directly, but you did indeed manage to convey that point to me quite effectively." Spock gets up from the bed as well, and places warm palms onto Jim's bare shoulders, leaning forward for the briefest of kisses. "I hope that I have made it clear to you that I love you, as well."
It is Jim's turn to lean in for a kiss. "You have – but I don't mind hearing it again."
Spock stills, suddenly serious. "I will continue to say it to you for as long as draw breath, Jim."
He knows he is not imagining the sudden moisture in Jim's vivid blue eyes as he reaches to take Spock's hand, pulling it to rest over the spot in his chest where the human heart beats strongly.
"And I'll say it to you for as long as my heart keeps beating." Jim looks down briefly, suddenly embarrassed. "If that sounds clichéd as hell – well, then, so be it. But… but I know what a gift you've given me today, and I'll cherish you, I swear it."
"As I will cherish you, ashayam." Spock takes their clasped hands and brings Jim's hand to his lips before pulling him into his arms.
They stand there quietly, simply holding one another in the silent room.
After a short time, Spock feels Jim smile against his skin. "So, Mr. Scientific Merit - would you like to do some research about your shower hypothesis?" There is a hint of mischief in his voice, and Spock can feel the first stirrings of desire beginning again in both of them.
"I would indeed be willing to perform some experiments, Captain." There is more than a hint of mischief in his own voice, and the smile he gets in response warms him from the core of his being.
"Moreover, Jim, when we are finished with our shower research, I believe there is a matter of human anthropological study that I would like to undertake."
Jim is watching him with sudden suspicion in his eyes, though his smile never fades. "Anthropological study? Do tell, Mr. Spock."
"In the course of my rather extensive study of Terran holiday traditions, I have heard about the idea of displaying viscum album – mistletoe – as a decorative item that has other significance. It occurs to me that since there is currently a small specimen of that particular flora in your quarters, you might be able to demonstrate how it is used traditionally in your culture." To his credit, Spock manages to sound almost completely serious – though at this moment, he is filled with such an abundance of joy that it takes every bit of his Vulcan training not to smile.
Jim nods, his expression serious as well. "You'd like for me to demonstrate what we do with the mistletoe on Earth?" He pretends to consider the idea, nodding solemnly. "I suppose we can do that. I mean, in the interest of science."
Then he can no longer maintain the serious façade, and chuckles softly before taking Spock's face in his hands and kissing him, so tenderly, once more.
"This has been the most incredible morning of my entire life, you know that?" Jim's eyes are shining with wonder, and his love for Spock is clear in his expression. "I don't even know what to say right now."
Spock leans in for one more kiss.
"I believe the appropriate phrase is 'Merry Christmas,' Jim."
~o0o~
~o0o~
Next there's an epilogue - and then we'll actually be finished! Hope the K/S mushiness worked for you all.
It occurs to me that though I've written Kirk/Spock, and I've written somewhat sexy scenes, I've never done them both at the same time.
