A/N: Sorry this took so long, I don't like leaving you hanging! Real life caught up, didn't get a chance to write... ya know how it goes. Anywhoo, here's the final installment. Warning: Here be pron. Also, this is twice as long as the other two chapters. I know, I know. You are so disappointed.

Breakfast was strained. Spock was dwelling on the stories he'd read the previous night, and was barely able to pull together coherent responses as he and Jim went over the duty rosters. Jim was caught up in fantasies, and found himself inappropriately checking out Spock on more than one occasion.

Needless to say, both men were incredibly distracted, and the duty rosters ended up taking over twice the usual amount of time. They were cutting it close to the start of their shift when they finally finished, and so after breakfast, they hurried their separate ways—Jim to the bridge, and Spock to the science labs.

Jim paused outside the mess hall and watched as the Vulcan quickly left, straight backed and stiff as usual, and felt a rising surge of guilt. He'd thought about Spock last night again, imagined green flushed lips sucking on his neck, pale fingers running through his hair, bodies rubbing together… he shook his head. Apparently once he'd started fantasizing about Spock, he couldn't stop. Never mind, get to the bridge, he thought, and sulked over to the turbolift.

Meanwhile, Spock was furiously attempting to control blood flow into his facial regions. He'd remembered a scene from a story the night before that involved frantic kissing and groping in the very hallway he was now walking, and it had taken a surprising amount of control to not spin and accost Jim where he stood. He risked a quick glance back, and also shook his head to clear it when he saw the captain's back retreating into the lift.

Jim was nearly silent the whole day on the bridge, and brushed off attempts by the crew to find out what was plaguing him far too harshly. He almost bumbled a routine message to an Orion ambassador, and actually swore at Admiral Pike during a private message in his ready room. During almost every second of downtime, he wondered what Spock was doing.

Spock, on the other hand, was a measure of efficiency. He completed experiments with unheard of speed, flawlessly updated all paperwork, and was finished with his day's work two hours before he was due off duty. He steadfastly kept his mind off Jim, silently reciting increasingly complex mathematical postulations whenever his thoughts wandered to blue eyes and blonde hair.

Spock retired early to his quarters and plopped in his computer chair, allowing himself to slouch. He should meditate. His emotional controls were shaky, and his mental distress was beginning to show physically. He made to get up and pull out his meditation mat, but hesitated and instead reached out and flicked his computer on, pulling up a blank document.

He began the entry as he would any personal log—typing, though. Not speaking—he didn't want anyone to overhear him. He raised an eyebrow as an idea came to him, and he quickly keyed out the actual events of a recent pleasurable away mission.

He and Jim had wandered from the rest of the away team. Therefore, no one else on board knew the specific occurrences that happened while they were alone, and he made sure to include several details within the story that he knew were not reported in the official logs—the odd color of the stones they had found, the hummingbird-type creature Jim had exclaimed over when it landed on his outstretched hand, the way the phosphorescent glow in the cave had lit the captain's features.

Above all, he attempted to remember the specific words they exchanged on the enjoyable mission. He wanted no doubt in Jim's mind that it was he, in fact, who had written this story.

Now the hard part—he reached the end of the actual occurrences, and now needed to insert an imaginary sexual scene to inform Jim of his desirability. His fingers hesitated for long minutes, and he started several times, only to backtrack and delete the words he had typed.

Finally, he took a stabilizing breath and began to type, attempting to imagine exactly what he truly wanted Jim to do to him, and for himself to do to Jim. At first, he felt a vague sense of unease. These words were illogical, tainted with emotion, even. Yet, he had long ago conceded that his captain had the unique ability to test his boundaries. He was not as uncomfortable committing the words to the screen as he thought he would have been, and as he worked, the phrases came more easily.

When he was finished, he quickly re-read the page for any errors (there were none) and then logged back into the website to upload the document. After several tries, he was able to enter an acceptable screen name, and with only a hint of trepidation, submitted his story to the site.

Now, he would just need to wait.

Jim yawned as he walked to his quarters. Jesus, what a shitty day, he thought, and keyed in his door's code. He had skipped the mess hall tonight, instead settling for a replicated sandwich and glass of water. Once he had his dinner, he pulled his PADD toward him and mechanically checked his email, signed a few orders, and then settled back, closing his eyes.

After a few minutes of non-action, he glanced at the PADD. Not tonight. You were awkward enough with Spock earlier today… he didn't even show up on the bridge all shift. But he couldn't help it—he had some sort of odd fascination with the stories, and so seemingly against his will, he called up the page, and quickly set in the parameters of the search.

There was a new story, and he clicked, promising himself that he would only read the one today. It was innocuously titled The Away Mission on Marsia IX. Jim smiled. They'd been on Marsia IX a few weeks ago. That had been a very nice mission—that hummingbird thing! Very cool. Plus, that was the last time he had spent just enjoying Spock's company without awkwardness.

He started reading, and after a couple paragraphs, stopped and looked up at the author's name. Son_of_a_Vulcan. This was… odd. The details of the story were… almost too much. They were perfect, in fact. Spot on. But… only he and Spock had been there. He shook his head and kept reading. There is was, that hummingbird… the glowing rocks… Jim was confused.

One more paragraph and the away mission should end, but no… Jim's eyes widened as he read. Lips pressing, his gold shirt torn from his body, green-flushed skin covering him… he was going crazy, that had to be it.

He started the story over, this time looking for the clinical descriptions, precise language, and unerring attention to detail that he was so used to from Spock's duty logs. Despite it being what he was looking for, he was surprised when he found it. This was Spock's writing style—no doubt. No one else on the entire crew could describe 'phosphor-luminescent geological structures' as 'fascinating.'

He put the pad down, and picked up his communicator, staring at it for a moment before flicking it open. "Captain Kirk to Commander Spock?" He was mildly displeased to find that his voice was shaking slightly.

"Spock here, Captain. How may I be of assistance?"

"Could you, uh. Report to my quarters?"

"At once, Captain."

Jim put down the communicator, and sat back on his couch, staring again at the PADD, and when Spock walked in a few short minutes later, Jim gazed at him, a slightly confused look on his face.

"Spock. Um. Sit down…" Spock did, in a chair across from Jim's couch. "Right. So… there's this website…" God, this would be awkward if he had misread the story—what if it wasn't Spock who had written it? Maybe he'd told the story of the mission to a friend or something…

Spock watched the emotions play across Jim's face, ranging from nervousness to lust to outright fear, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Did you enjoy my story, Jim?"

"Guh…" Jim's eyes widened at this admission.

Spock rose from his seat and stepped closer to the captain. "Judging by your increased heart rate and elevated blood flow, I would surmise that you did."

"Guh?" Jim's pupils dilated at Spock's closeness.

Spock leaned forward, placing his knees on other side of the captain's and straddling him on the couch. "I was unaware that our hypothetical sexual activities were matters of such debate to the general populous. I was intrigued."

Jim groaned, and threw the PADD to the side, sliding Spock's narrow waist into his hands instead. He tilted forward to bring them closer, and Spock leaned down, directing Jim's head up to meet his own.

"Oh, Spock…" Jim had time to murmur, before their lips met and he lost all coherent trains of thought.

Spock growled low in his throat, and turned his head, getting a better angle into Jim's mouth. He gently increased the pressure on Jim's groin, knowing that friction on the human's genitals was imperative to arousal. He was apparently successful, judging by Jim's low moan.

Jim pulled back, gasping, and caught Spock's face in his hands, his blue eyes ranging over Spock's delicate features. He traced a pointed eyebrow with his thumb, and slid one hand to pull lightly on the tip of an ear, while the other traced the curve of Spock's lips. Spock's eyes closed in pleasure.

"God, you're beautiful. Come to bed," Jim whispered, and one of those perfect eyebrows lifted slightly. Jim raised his own in return. "Don't give me that, you're the one who started this…"

"Indeed, Jim. Though if you had not left your PADD displaying the website, I would not have known to make such a gesture."

"I did what? Y'know, never mind. I don't care at all right now…"

Spock shifted and Jim was able to get up. He grasped Spock's hand and pulled him toward his sleeping area, quickly throwing covers out of the way and then falling backward on the bed, looking up at Spock expectantly.

Spock was standing over him, his face blank as usual. The only difference Jim could tell was in his eyes—they were dilated to match his, and almost black. Jim smirked, but then Spock began to undress. Jim whimpered, and felt himself grow harder.

The shiny black boots and socks went first, tossed to a corner of Jim's room. Then Spock locked his eyes on Jim's, and slowly pulled his blue tunic and black undershirt off as one. Jim's mouth began to water, and he sat up, wanting to touch, but Spock stepped back with what could only have been a smile quirking his lips.

"The most logical course of action would be to completely disrobe before the consummation of intimate actions." Spock lowered his voice, and purred out the next word. "Jim."

The noise went straight to Jim's groin, and he kicked off his shoes, tugged his shirt over his head, and began to work on his zip. Meanwhile, Spock had stripped down to tight black boxer-briefs, and when Jim glanced up to gauge his progress, Spock swept down and replaced Jim's hands with his mouth, working the zipper of the captain's pants down with his teeth.

Jim groaned and lifted his hips, bumping his cloth-covered erection into Spock's chin. Spock glanced up (eyebrow lifted, of course) and then ripped trousers and shorts off in one swoop. He eyed Jim's red and throbbing member, and then leaned forward and decisively licked from base to tip.

"Aaah, Spock, oh jesus, oh man…"

"I admit I should thank the authors of those stories," Spock responded conversationally, ignoring Jim's muffled groans as he wrapped his long fingers around the other man and began to pump slowly. "They were useful in their explicity. Otherwise I feel I may have been somewhat underprepared for these actions." He leaned down again and teased Jim's tip with his rough tongue.

"Spock, please…"

Spock hummed in assent, and slowly, achingly, slid his mouth down Jim's length, holding onto the captain's hips to discourage unwanted bucking. He rolled his tongue on the shaft, and sucked lightly, moving his head up to release Jim with a soft pop before plunging back in, moving up and down more forcefully.

Jim buried his fingers in Spock's silky black hair, pulling and pushing slightly along with the other man's movements. After a few minutes of what was probably the best blow job of his life, he felt his balls begin to tighten, and managed to gasp out "Stop, stop… gonna come if you don't stop…"

Spock paused long enough to reply, "I believe that is the idea, Captain," and plunged his mouth down again, forcing Jim deeper and swallowing around his length.

"Ahh!" Jim cried, and Spock released his hips, allowing the thrusting man to fuck his mouth. Jim took full advantage, and came moments later, pulsing down Spock's throat. He collapsed, boneless underneath Spock, who sat up slightly and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"May I penetrate you, Jim?"

Jim looked up into the brown eyes and nodded slightly. "You gotta take your shorts off if you're gonna do that. Lube's in the bottom drawer…"

Spock reached over and after a moment of searching, pulled out a small tube from Jim's nightstand. Then he quickly slipped off his boxer-briefs, watching Jim for his reaction.

Jim pushed himself up on his elbows, unashamedly staring at the smooth expanse of skin that covered Spock's groin. "You're not turned on?" Jim couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

Spock's mouth twitched down to an almost frown. "On the contrary, I am extremely aroused. It is becoming difficult to control my physical reactions."

Rolling his eyes, Jim reached up and pulled Spock down so they were lying flush with one another. "We're having sex. You're not supposed to be suppressing physical reactions."

A hot breath from Spock, and then a whispered, "Yes, you are correct, Jim…" and then the Vulcan closed his eyes and visibly relaxed. Jim gasped slightly and looked down—Spock's penis was sliding out from where it had been sheathed within his body.

Jim gulped. It was larger than he had expected—both longer and thicker—and was glistening with moisture. He reached down and traced a finger along the green-flushed length and then brought his hand to his mouth, tasting Spock's essence.

"You taste sweet…" he mumbled, sucking on his fingers, and when he looked at Spock, the Vulcan's mouth was open slightly and his breathing was labored. Jim smiled and pulled Spock's fingers to his mouth, licking the tips and sucking them past his lips. Spock groaned, and let his head fall to rest on Jim's shoulder.

"Stretch me out," Jim whispered into Spock's ear. Spock tensed, but then reached down and slid his hand a few times along his erection, coating his free fingers with self-made lubricant. Without any more preamble, he pressed a finger to Jim's entrance, and he slid in with almost no resistance.

Jim groaned around the fingers in his mouth, and pressed his ass down on Spock's hand. Spock took this as permission to add another finger, and then scissored, opening Jim up efficiently.

"Another," Jim gasped, and Spock obliged, working his hand back and forth to ensure the captain's preparedness. After just a moment more of this, he withdrew his hand and replaced it with his cock, pushing lightly on Jim's entrance, but not seeking access just yet. There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by the quiet noise of Jim sucking Spock's fingers.

"You are positive about these events?" Spock finally asked, a very slight amount of worry showing on his placid face.

"Never been more positive about anything ever…" Jim replied, meeting Spock's gaze.

Green blood flushed Spock's cheeks, and Jim suddenly felt a wash of gratitude mixed with apprehension and tinged with lust. He jumped slightly, startled, but then realized that Spock had simply let his mental barriers down an iota—Spock wanted Jim to know how he was feeling.

"Never more positive," Jim repeated, and tried to send feelings of happiness and desire back to Spock. The other man drew in a sharp breath, and on the exhale, pushed slowly into Jim's needful body.

"Yes, yes, oh…" Jim moaned, and Spock sank in fully, pausing for a moment before pulling back out and thrusting in again, slightly faster this time. "I'm yours," Jim muttered, before pulling Spock's head down and crashing their lips together.

Spock picked up the pace, practically pistoning into Jim, and was rewarded for his efforts when the captain cried out and arched his back—Spock had found his prostate. Jim was rock-hard again, and Spock was teetering on the edge, overwhelmed by the powerful reaction Jim's body was giving him.

"May… I…" Spock forced out, ghosting his hands over Jim's face, and Jim, understanding immediately what Spock was asking for, nodded quickly. Then, fingers pressed down, nestling along delicate bones like they were made for the action, and the men were plunged even further into one another.

Bursts of pleasure exploded around them, melded as one. Colors with no names danced through their consciousness. Jim gasped—they'd melded before, but always in the line of duty—this was wonderful to the point that it was indescribable. There was Spock, and him, and they were together and he couldn't tell where one started and the other stopped and Spock was moaning, his mind filled up with Jim and pure bliss and neither would ever be able to get enough of this and—

The world erupted and the pleasure was unbearable and so they both passed out.

Minutes (hours? days? who cares?) later, Jim surfaced to Spock lying on his chest, breathing heavily, and with a small smile quirking at his mouth.

"Spuuhh…" Jim was apparently still incapable of speech.

Spock hummed inquiringly, and buried his head further into Jim's neck. They lay in silence until Jim was sure he was actually coherent.

"Wonderful. That was. You are. Y'know."

"Indeed."

"This… is gonna continue?"

"Indeed."

"Ok. That's… awesome."

"Indeed."