Captain Spirk

A/N: Alright, firstly, I admit I need a stoning for the intolerably long delay of the delivery of this chapter. Let me apologise deeply and thoroughly for making a lot of you wait hellishly long. Life has taken over (as per usual) and my move to the UK made me have to put all else aside until I settle down – which I have now. To all the nice readers who have sent me wonderful reviews and pm – thank you very much for your continuous encouragement and support. Again, I was not able to reply to every reviews but please know that they are all appreciated and loved.

Warning: The story has cross over to the Mature side now and due discretion apply to such circumstances. I think most of you would have guessed from the previous chapter that this might be the case :) I warned also that I am terrible at writing smut and if this chapter is a poor representation of what you are expecting, please forgive me. Also, please note that since the last time I updated until now, my tone and writing style may have changed slightly. Nothing major though.

So after that horrendously lenghty author's note, onwards!

Chapter 19: Our Echo

The sight of that eyes and that smirk – that oh-so-sensual smirk – upon the normally inscrutable face nearly sent Kirk into high heavens. And the dream had only just begun.

"Jim."

Kirk's body trembled under the assault of the smoky voice of the man who was his first officer. And then there was lips. Hungry and demanding upon his own. He responded with as much fervour as he could possibly managed. This. This was better than the previous dreams. On the other dreams he was hesitant, always very reserved and scared of the animalistic desire he sense colouring Spock's aura. He would always ended getting devoured anyway – Kirk shivered at the word – but he never really consented to anything before. Previously, Spock had always claimed and taken whether he be willing or not.

But tonight, tonight Kirk wanted it, relished it, demanded it, dammit. Give it to me, I'll take everything Spock. Oh please! The heat enveloped him, left him wanting, needing, despairing for relief of his beloved's touch. Wanting Spock's touch. Once he realised and accepted his own feelings, Kirk knew he needed this. He would die if this thirst was not quench. "Spock," breathily he called. "I want - ,"

He didn't finish for Spock was upon him once more, his lips pressed insistently upon Kirk's even as hands roamed on the toned flesh of Kirk's skin. Kirk had never felt such a burning need before, not with anyone and his body responded accordingly, filled him with an unquenchable need that no one but Spock could satisfy. He knew he was acting out of the ordinary, he had never been this wanton before, but for now he did not care. As dramatic as it sounded, if Spock did not touch him now, he felt that he would surely die.

He moaned when the other's fingers began moving downward towards hotter, more sensitive areas, where his desire throbbed painfully. The warm hands – warmer than any Human's could ever be – stroked hardened flesh and Kirk felt himself bucked unconsciously, wanting more, more, more...he was losing himself, God, that had felt so damn freaking good, as that skilled hands moved up and down, drawing gasps of steamed breath forth from his lips.

This was perfect, this was everything...but...

There was a sound like a whimper as if Spock was in pain and suddenly the hands were withdrawing away from him. Spock was withdrawing away, leaving Kirk feeling instantly cold and bereft.

No! His thoughts screamed at him.

There was a barrier there that Kirk could feel erected between him and Spock, preventing them from each other. With a sudden premonition Kirk realised that the barrier was a projection by Spock himself. He was fighting against the inevitable. Fighting this from happening between them. Kirk felt a sudden spike of hurt rose in his heart. That act of compassion was not in tandem with the dreams he had before. In those dreams, heated and excited as he was, Kirk could always tell that there was hesitation on his part. Spock in those dreams, on the other hand, was a tormentor. He took and claimed with all but a word. Yet despite that, in the end, Kirk had always relented. Giving in to his darkest desires and so allowed himself to be consumed.

If Spock was his apocalypse, then Kirk would take his doom willingly.

And yet...why? The ponn farr was burning them both up, Kirk knew and yet Spock was still fighting it? For fear of hurting him? But never in those dreams – not ever – had the domineering Vulcan considered Kirk's willingness. Kirk had never been openly consenting in those dreams, true, yet he had never stopped Spock either.

Why?

Did Kirk read this wrongly? Was Spock not in love with him as he had thought? But even then, as heartbreaking as it was to learn that Spock might not love him back, there was no other option that Kirk could see. They would die otherwise. Together as one. What a terrible irony. However, as romantic as the idea sounded in his mind, Kirk have no desire to go out in this way. After all, McCoy would have his head if he even dared to die now, let alone like this.

Kirk knew what he wanted now. It was clear to him. And Spock needed it too. Whatever it was that Spock sought from him: friendship, brotherhood, and love, Kirk was willing to give him. Anything for Spock, anything at all – even his own life if need be. Whatever the outcome of this, Kirk would take what he was given as long as he lived with Spock by his side. Selfish? Perhaps, Kirk did not care.

"Jim," Spock's voice was hoarse, as if he was struggling and fighting against his own dark and selfish desires.

"I do not wish to hurt you," even now the sense of compassion prevailed in Spock.

Kirk sighed, slowly pushing himself up, his body feeling strangely heavy. "Spock, please, what are you talking about?" He reached a hand out for the Vulcan, felt himself cringed when the other backed away from the contact.

"I know you well, Captain. I do not wish to impose upon you a bond that would oppress you for a lifetime."

"Then you do not know me as well as you claimed," he countered, feeling slightly lightheaded somehow and wondering why in the world could things never be simple for him. The red fog that had cleared when he awoken to Spock's touch was gathering against his vision once more. Kirk breathed deeply and closed his eyes to clear it. Slowly he spoke and wish that Spock would understand.

"I want you Spock – I consent to this," he proclaimed, "And I am willing to be together with you even if it meant being in a committed relationship for the rest of my life."

Spock looked hopeful and slightly crestfallen all at the same time. Fascinating expression on one usually so reserved. "Captain," he whispered as if in awe. "But you do not understand what you are committing to," he protested although it sounded weak and frail in the suffocating air.

"Enough of this."

Kirk's hands moved to clasp that beloved face between them as he stared unflinchingly into that dark, beautiful eyes. He felt like he was falling into a dark tunnel. Falling into the darkness willingly and without fear. He embraced the Vulcan then, enveloped that strong body against his and he whispered fiercely and passionately into the charmingly pointed ear:

"I want you to only look at me this way. No one else."

Kirk felt Spock's body trembled at this and he felt his own responded. "Spock," he gasped trying to get his voice steady against the lust stirring like a storm within him. "I want this," Kirk breathed. There was neither fear nor hesitation in his voice, looking straight into the Vulcan's deep dark eyes. He was sure of this, sure of them. Without hesitation he proclaimed:

"I love you."

That was all he needed to say for Spock to let the barrier go instantly. And Spock's passion, long held under the iron grip of the strength of Vulcan control was unleashed. When before the air was heavy with uncertainty, now it clogged heavily with outpouring of desire. Kirk's words had opened a floodgate from within the Vulcan.

Spock, beautiful and glowing and now the inheritor of his heart.

And then what had been interrupted, resumed. Spock climbed onto the bed and pressed Kirk onto the firm mattress, with keen intentions. Now that permission had been given and received. They gazed upon each other before lips claimed each other hungrily, hands gliding over muscles, caressing the tender areas of Kirk's chest as he himself enjoyed the feel of Spock's smooth hair as his fingers entangle it, as Spock plundered his willing mouth.

He felt, Spock's warm fingers upon his face, gentle, searching, probing. A gentle pressure, and then...

Kirk gasped.

Slowly the world began to dissolve from around him. And he saw and hear and felt, everything at once. Of the strength, of the essence that made his beloved who he was. Colours and beautiful landscapes, dark stormy clouds and a vast understanding that this was Spock. His Spock, one and only, as only he was allowed to see and this was the Vulcan way of conveying the same message Kirk had been struggling to control.

Because this was the Vulcan way, strange and unfamiliar as it was to a Human, but no less beautiful for its honesty and truths.

This was Spock conveying to Kirk of his feelings.

Touching and touched. Forever.

I love you. My beloved. I love only you.

It was the image of surrender, of control relinquished.

All of a sudden he understood. Of Spock's feelings, of his own and everything they meant to each other. Spock was everything to him. Even as Kirk himself was everything to Spock. And Kirk knew that at that very moment Spock knew it too. The heat intensified, set to engulfed both of them till their bodies turned to ashes awaiting a phoenix reborn. Warm hands, exploring the rivets and curves of his body ardently. Because he wanted Spock, even as Spock had wanted him. Always forever, touching and touched. He heard the echo of the spoken words in his mind, rather than hearing Spock voicing them out loud.

At the moment, no traces of his calm and collected First Officer could be seen on this creature. The cool eyes had been replaced by smouldering fires and his breath sent a fiery tingle across Kirk's own heated skin. Spock's hands – the strong hand of the Vulcan race – was a burning furnace on his skin. He held Kirk's body like it was a lyra that Vulcan musical instrument that Spock was so fond of, in a tender yet passionate grip.

"Ah," Kirk heard the pant and need in his own voice as that skilled hand found the sensitive area in between his thighs.

Spock had taken him then, countless times, because they needed no words. Between them, the boundary of permission had long since dissolved. Had ceased to exists the moment Kirk's heart recognised its sole counterpart in Spock. Spock had claimed him fearlessly and without remorse because the Vulcan inherently knew that Kirk would not have denied him anything.

Take everything you need, beloved. All I am belongs to you.

When the warm fingers wrapped themselves again around the sensitive centre of Kirk's body, a ragged moan escaped red lips parted with desire. Spock's gaze was unrelenting upon his face; lustful and demanding, mirroring Kirk's own. There was a note of something else hidden behind the deep cover of desire: affection. The knowledge excited and warmed him in ways beyond the physical. Satisfaction gleamed in the dark depths, as if Kirk's sudden hesitation was the last barrier to overcome.

And then came the cumulation of the anticipation. Spock was at once gentle and fierce, burning and cold, torment and saviour to Kirk who was simply stunningly overwhelmed by the array of stimulations provided to him. As Spock's emotions and feeling swirls alongside him and within him, even as their bodies joint and moved together.

Soon Kirk was lost in nothing but Spock. The feelings of that warm hands stroking, caressing and worshiping each and every corner of his most secret places.

"Spock, I can't," he gasped raggedly, fingers tight and clenching the strong, broad shoulders. A little bit more and he would be lost. Spock was moving again, steady and hypnotic above him, his eyes burning and smouldering, his cheeks tainted a darkening hue, and normally neat hair in disarray.

"Beautiful," Kirk thought dazedly.

In his mind's eye, Kirk could clearly see that majestic volcano, bursting into flames,

Crumbling into the welcoming sea. It sputtered, hissed, and then all was calm. The only sign of a bitter descent was a cloud of misty steam that was rising from where the hot stones met the cold water. The volcano was at ease finally and Kirk could not help but smile.

And suddenly Spock was moving again and it tore a ragged groan to escape him. Spock's ability to multi-task was impressive if Kirk actually had control of his mind and body just then to appreciate it. A that moment though, he was simply lost in sensations as hands, lips, tongue and teeth explored every inch of exposed skin thoroughly. Pleasure and pain, mingled together and he was lost.

Moments later after the madness has passed – or have we died and this is heaven?, Kirk wondered lightly – he felt Spock's warm body pressed against him and an arm draped across his chest. Spock's showered warm kisses all over his exposed neck, the gesture soft and tender after their frenzied love-making.

Spark dance upon golden skin as Spock skillfully (where in the worlds had he learned such a thing?) licked and sucked and nipped his way all over Kirk's body.

Kirk felt mellow, warm and content. Like a cat. He didn't even possesed of any strength to move anymore. But Spock's post-coital affection was a welcome winding down activity. 'This sure is the nicest dream of all', he mused tiredly. None of the other dreams had accumulated to cuddling (Kirk cringe at the use of the word 'cuddle' but his sluggish mind refused to supply him with a more masculine word); usually the dreams ended by him waking up when he reached his release.

So yes, this is a very nice change, indeed.

He fought to keep his eyes open and he was teetering over the edge of sleep (or was it death?) when:

"Jim,"

Only Spock could speak his name with such reverence, passion and love.

Kirk smiled. 'Ironic,' he vaguely chuckled, 'whoever would have thought?'

"What amuses you, T'hy'la?"

Kirk just smiled, feeling the familiar blanket of sleep approaching, unable to break the pervading weakness. "You," he whispered, enigmatically, knowing that Spock would understand, feeling his eyes closing, "me," he let out a sigh. "Us."

"Jim?" Spock was calling out to him once more, urgently. Was that something like panic in his tone? But that couldn't be. Spock's voice was coming from very far away.

Kirk did not return a reply.

To Be Continued

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