A/N: Back by popular demand- I'm happy you guys liked this! I'm having a blast writing it. :) There will be one more chapter-the boys will... er. Well, you're reading this... I bet you can guess.

Ster J-I'm working your idea into the next chapter. I think it should be good.

Nali-Blunt-I'd love to read someone else's take on this theme!

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed and favorited and whatnot. Tribbles for all!

A month since Bones had shown him that fucking website, and Jim couldn't get it out of his head. Couldn't get images of Spock out of his head, to be more specific. Last night he'd finally given in and jerked off to one of the latest stories, his eyes skimming over a description of fictional-Spock's mouth on his fictional cock as he roughly stroked the real thing until he erupted, moaning into the darkness of his room.

And now he was on the bridge, acting like nothing had happened. Like it wasn't Spock's name on his lips last night. Like thanks to the vivid imaginations of these anonymous authors, he couldn't perfectly picture what thrusting into Spock over the back of his captain's chair would be like. Like he wasn't getting hard just thinking about it.

"Captain."

Jim pulled himself out of his reverie, and jumped about a mile when he realized Spock himself was standing next to him, one eyebrow raised and a twinkle lurking in the back of his eyes that said he was laughing at the captain.

Jim sighed. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"Are you well, sir? Your heartbeat and breathing have accelerated."

Jim shook his head—just ignore the fact that Spock can hear your heartbeat. He shifted in the chair, debating if he could stand without anything… popping up… "Fine, Spock. I'm fine," he grumbled distractedly, looking around and realizing the Alpha shift crew was absent. "Is our shift over?"

"Indeed, for the past nine point three minutes."

"Oh." Jim made the decision that he was a bit too… excited… to stand up and not cause a stir on the bridge. Alright, he thought, deep breath, think of Komack in something revealing… He stared off into space for a moment, picturing hairy flab squeezed into a too-small bikini, and after a few beats, felt the tightness in his pants retreat.

He stood and smiled a bit too brightly at Spock, who regarded him the look Jim knew meant that Spock was questioning his mental capacities.

"I'm gonna head to the mess, Spock. Care to join me for dinner?"

"As you wish, Captain. I also wished to inquire if you would be willing to spar tonight. It has been several weeks since we last engaged in such exercise."

Jim's jaw worked for a minute. It had, indeed, been several weeks since he'd been willing to wrestle with Spock, and for good reason.

"Uh, maybe not tonight, Spock. I'm, um. Starved, and I don't like wrestling on a full stomach…"

Spock tilted his head in acceptance. "A logical decision, Captain. Perhaps you would not be adverse to a game of chess as a replacement evening activity?"

Which would put us alone in one of our quarters, a gleeful voice in the back of Jim's mind suggested. But Jim answered before he had even thought it through completely—"Sure, Spock. Chess it is."

Dinner was uneventful, with Spock choosing his usual soup and salad, and only slightly raising an eyebrow when Jim chose vegetarian fare as well. And if Jim stammered over his words more than usual, Spock gave no sign of noticing. It wasn't until Jim flushed red when Spock innocently asked, in regards to their chess game, "Shall we play in your quarters or mine?" that he again voiced concern at the captain's well-being.

"I'm fine, Spock," Jim spluttered, choking on a carrot. "I told you. I've just… been distracted today."

Jim watched Spock out of the corner of his eye as the Vulcan considered his words while they walked to Jim's quarters. He mentally implored Spock not to pursue this vein of conversation, and with a minute shake of his head, Spock finally seemed to drop it.

Despite Jim's misgivings (anticipation?) of being alone in his quarters with Spock, the chess game went well. Jim settled down when concentrating on the game, and as usual, his haphazard assault on the board provided a stiff challenge for Spock's measured strategies.

Spock won, though narrowly, and Jim grinned and clapped him on the back when Spock finally announced checkmate, earning himself a scathing eyebrow and slightly pursed lips.

"Before we retire, may we review the duty roster for the upcoming week, Captain?" Spock asked as Jim cleared up the board.

"Sure. I've gotta pee though, hold on a minute," Jim responded, gesturing for Spock to make himself comfortable on the couch, and heading to the bathroom. Spock exhaled slightly with mild relief—the captain's day-long awkwardness seemed to have melted away with their game.

In fact, this day's increased awkwardness was nothing new. The captain had been distancing himself from his first officer for the past twenty-seven days, and Spock was at a loss as to why. He could not pinpoint an event that could have made the captain upset with him, nor could he see any difference in the captain's behavior toward the rest of his crew. It was puzzling.

Spock settled himself on Jim's couch, waiting for the captain to finish in the bathroom. Belatedly realizing he had forgotten his own PADD on the bridge, Spock picked up Jim's to open his duty roster files, but when he flicked the screen on, another page was already up.

Spock's eyebrows disappeared into the fringe of his bangs when he read the first several entries on the page, and his emotional controls faltered, his mouth falling open slightly and the tips of his ears darkening slightly. As he continued skimming the entries, his eyes widened, and he drew in a sharp breath.

He was not distracted enough to miss hearing movement from the direction of the bathroom, and when he heard the sound of hands being washed, he quickly turned the screen off (after memorizing the URL) and replaced the PADD.

Jim emerged, rubbing his hands dry on his pants, and plopped himself next to Spock on the couch. "So. Duty rosters."

Spock had stiffened when Jim sat down, and now stood, snapping his hands behind his back and clearing his throat. If Jim didn't know any better, he would have thought that he saw a green flush spreading on Spock's cheekbones.

"I have underestimated my levels of fatigue, Captain. I… must regretfully retire to my quarters for the night. Perhaps meeting for breakfast and discussing the rosters at that time would be acceptable?" Spock was speaking slightly too quickly, and Jim cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"Yea, that's fine. See you tomorrow morning, then. 0600?"

"Affirmative, Captain." Spock nodded, turned and practically fled the room.

Once in his own quarters, Spock immediately sat at his computer, and pulled up the website he had seen on Jim's PADD. He winced slightly with guilt at telling Jim a small lie, but his curiosity was too great.

"," he murmured to himself. "Fascinating."

A few quick clicks later (the site was extremely easy to navigate) and he was at the page Jim's PADD had been opened to. Spock leaned forward slightly, his eyes flicking over a story chosen at random. It was well-written and engaging. The plot was believable and easily could have chronicled an away mission.

Even the description of how the story's Spock fell into the arms of the story's Jim was… believable. The characterization of his person was startlingly accurate, Spock realized. They accentuated the aspects of Jim he did, indeed, find aesthetically pleasing, and their dialogue was realistic.

Spock sat back and stared blankly at the screen. He found that there was an odd tightness in his lower stomach, and his heart rate was slightly elevated. Without thinking, he clicked on another of the stories—one that assured it was a 'lemon.'

After the first paragraph, he drew in a sharp breath. This was what was known as porn. Words described heaving chests, leaking cocks, groping fingers… Spock's breathing became more labored.

After four more stories, Spock looked down at his lap, realizing he had become extremely aroused.

"Fascinating."