Waking was gradual for Jim, as today was his on-call day and no alarm had been set the night before. Saturdays were Jim's favorite day for two reasons: Sleeping and pancakes. This Saturday was apparently going to be very good, he thought in his state of half-sleep, cuddling closer to whatever the source of the abundant cozy heat in his bed was. He let out a contented sigh, feeling his blankets pull him closer, engulfing him in strong arms and kissing his forehead. His eyes snapped open and his body went rigid…wait…what?
"Good morning, Jim," Spock's baritone flooded through Jim's senses like a bucket of cold water. Blue eyes locked on to deep pools of molten chocolate. Spock had awakened to find himself comfortably pressed against the body of his Golden One—the only other being, aside from his mother, that had ever offered Spock unconditional acceptance…at least, that he could remember. He now found it easier to control the emotion awakened by last night's flood of remembrance.
While his memories of his mother and Vulcan were still incomplete, the connection he had been missing while learning of the planet and his mother's demise was now returned. It had been…unbearable, at first. Spock had only slept for three point two hours, and had been laying there peacefully in Jim's arms attempting and for the most part succeeding at applying the first tenants of Vulcan emotional mastery that S'Jorrin had provided him. More than that, however, the compassion and concern that had flowed forth from Jim's skin as he held Spock in the night…the overwhelming sense of home and...love…had soothed him, filled the empty ache of his heart and stayed his overwhelming sorrow.
When Spock pulled away slightly, to get a better view of his beautiful human, he was stunned by what he saw. Blue eyes were screwed shut, shoulders tensed, chest heaving and knuckles gripping painfully tight at the bed sheets—he looked as though he were restraining himself—from lashing out or weeping—Spock was unsure. "Jim?" he questioned, running soothing fingers over furrowed brows. "What is wrong?"
Jim opened his eyes, trying to keep his dick from catching up with reality—naked Spock, under a robe and cuddling closely to his side. "Nothing," he lied, gently moving away from Spock's touch and forcing himself to relax and sit up. "How are you feeling?"
Spock allowed his arm to drop quietly between them, "I am…better. Thank you for not turning me away."
"I would never turn you away, Spock," Jim immediately affirmed. "I'll always be there when you need me," he paused when he realized how much that sounded like a declaration, so he quickly amended with an unconvincing smile, "What are friends for, right?"
Spock had not failed to notice the way his beloved continued to inch away from him, and decided he was tired of playing games. "Indeed," Spock tilted his head and reached out a hand to grasp one of Jim's, scooting across the bed so that they were once again as close as they had been when the human had first awakened, "very close friends, I believe you told me. Although, I have wondered, Jim, why not more? Why not…" the Vulcan pressed his forehead against that of his prey, "Why not lovers? It is what you desire, is it not? It is what we both desire—"
Blue eyes that had closed at the touch of Spock's hand opened slowly, full of pain and longing, "You don't get it, do you?"
"What don't I 'get', Jim?" Spock intoned, determined to not allow Jim to act on the guilt he could feel in Jim's surface emotions. "The fact that you enjoy my touch…" he trailed a Vulcan kiss down the length of Jim's unclothed arm, "that you enjoy my company…" he pulled Jim's chin so he could force eye contact, "that you love me, Jim? I 'get it'—what is more, I desire it. I have loved you since the moment I saw you."
"NO, you don't," Jim shook Spock's hand away. "God, I should have known…" He should have known that taking Spock in his arms last night was a bad fucking idea. Of course they had to wake up and of course it would lead to Spock driving him crazy with more touching. "Two years, Spock," He took a steadying breath as he prepared to turn away the being that he loved above all else, because it was the right thing to do. "We've been working, eating and spending time together for two years now and you've never said or done anything to indicate you feel that way about me." He pressed on, not allowing the Vulcan to interrupt, "Whatever you think you feel—it's not love, Spock. It's comfort…it's familiarity…friendly affection, but it isn't love. I know you, and you don't love me…not like that…and soon, you'll remember why and if that happens while you're curled up against me, I'll never forgive myself. Why do you think I've been avoiding you?" Jim smirked, "I caught on to your little 'touch experiment' and can't let you keep doing things I know you won't be proud of later."
Spock's response was to push Jim flat against the headboard, straddling his thighs, knowing quite well that the Captain was no match against his Vulcan strength. He allowed a teasing tilt to the corners of his lips, "Avoiding me—that is what you have been doing these past days? Why? You enjoyed my touches, I could sense your arousal."
Jim couldn't think, couldn't breathe, let along form coherent sentences. Spock was straddling him, teasing him…what the hell should he do? "Spock, stop," he breathed, the word little more than a plea, "you aren't yourself right now."
Spock pulled Jim down the length of the bed until he once again flat on his back, "You are too noble, and far too confident in this perception of who I am which is, in fact, quite erroneous." Spock settled himself between Jim's flannel-clad thighs, his hands pinning the Captains arms—gently—to the mattress, "How can you possibly believe that you have a better understanding of me than…me? When I woke up in sickbay," Spock gently, sweetly…just barely rubbed their erections together, eliciting a low breathless moan from the man beneath him, "it was not simply familiarity that I sensed when I saw you, Jim. Your presence tugged at my very consciousness…my Vulcan Katra and my human soul."
Spock's heart clenched at the unshed tears brimming in Jim's eyes, "I have known it since you left me in my quarters that first night. I recognized you because I am…I have been—I know I have been in love with you for a long time. Please, beloved," Spock placed a kiss to Jim's parted lips, "do not deny this." He ran his thumbs from the corners of Jim's eye's, sweeping away the two tears that escaped.
Jim's felt it, the moment his restraint melted away and he accepted it—whatever it would bring, damnation or absolution, that he simply could not turn Spock away, that he'd never stood a chance really. Not when the Vulcan owned him so completely, not when it hurt so much to keep burying it within, hopeless and desolate for the one person he never thought would love him back. Yet, here was Spock, demanding Jim to love him and how could he possibly say no?
"Spock," his voice shook with the depth of his emotion, hands rising to thread through silky black hair, "You're right, I love you…I love you so much that normally it hurts just to look at you. I'd never think that in a thousand years you'd ever love me back, and I know better. I know this isn't real—that the second those memories come back, you're going to leave me," like everyone else was left unsaid. He'd never been good enough for love from anyone else, not even his mother, and for just once…he wanted it. Jim swallowed the lump in his throat as piercing brown eyes radiated love and compassion…all for him and he needed it, "But I don't care anymore. If I can have you…even just for a little bit…I'll fucking take it."
With that, Jim pulled the Vulcan's lips to his own, finally tasting the forbidden and knowing with the depth of soul that consequences be damned, he'd never regret this and he'd never forget it. Spock wasn't the only one with eidetic memory, and Jim was pushing the mental record button, determined to keep this moment with him until the day he died. Slowly, so slowly, their bodies came together, their clothed erections rubbing slowly together, but it was enough to make them both gasp with pleasure.
"There is no need for doubt, beloved," Spock purred against his neck. "This is real and I will never leave you, never hurt you."
"Gods, Spock," Jim panted, wiggling free of his pajama pants with help from Vulcan hands, "I never had you pegged for a romantic."
"And yet you claim to know me so well," Spock's robe was shed and they shared a moan as their naked organs slid against one another.
"I wonder what else you've been hiding from me," Jim panted, flipping the Vulcan then taking both cocks in hand and caressing them in his fist.
"Oh," Spock gasped when Jim's thumb gently rubbed over the slit at his tip, trailing his fluid down and around the circumference of his doubled-ridged head. "I had not expected it to be so…"
"Intense?" Jim finished for him, unoccupied hand covering every inch of skin within its reach—petting, caressing, worshipping,"I've wanted you for so long, but I never thought…Ah! God...never thought I'd have you like this, so…oh—open." Their mouths came together again, Spock's tongue twining with his own and Jim knew he wouldn't last much longer—not with Spock writhing and moaning beneath him, strong hands kneading his ass.
Spock felt the tension in his loins uncoil and then he was climaxing, his seed rushing from his organ and covering Jim's hand and cock. He watched, enraptured and thoroughly sated, as blue eyes widened in ecstasy, blonde head thrown back and mouth opened a long, low moan as the human cock twitched against his own, their combined release mixing between them. Jim collapsed beside the Vulcan, pulling him into his arms, and savoring the closeness.
He felt like he was in another wet dream because surely this had not just happened—wasn't happening—Spock's head resting on his shoulder, the Vulcan's arms wrapped securely around him as they both lie there silent and sated. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the happiness of this moment. If Spock remembered everything and he left the Enterprise and Jim tomorrow, he'd at least have this.
"Jim," Spock's smooth baritone broke the comfortable silence between them, "You need not worry, beloved. It will never happen."
Jim let out a breathy chuckle, "Y'know, it's really not fair for you to be reading my mind."
"My apologies, Jim," Spock placed a kiss to a stubbled jaw, "I will endeavor to ignore the powerful feelings you continue broadcast like a satellite."
"Sorry," Jim traced the point of an ear, as he'd desired to do for so long. "I forgot."
"It is alright," Spock averted his gaze, feeling slightly ashamed, "I should have been trying harder to practice control…over the telepathy…over the emotions. I did not fully recognize how…overwhelming they could be. I had thought I could be…that I could choose—"
"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," Jim ran soothing hands through black hair, another something he'd wanted to do for a very, very long time, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to explore the different sides of yourself and you seem to be keeping it together now."
"Perhaps, but it was irresponsible of me not to at least dedicate more time to understanding the logic and principles behind Vulcan culture and control," he paused to place a kiss to Jim's lips.
"Do you wanna talk about, you know, what you remembered?" Jim encouraged.
"Are you sure you would not rather indulge in breakfast?" Spock teased, hearing Jim's stomach rumble.
"It can wait—"
"It cannot," Spock placed another kiss to Jim's jaw and rolled out of the bed. He threw on his robe and turned back to beckon Jim to follow him. "Come. We are both in need of a sonic and nourishment. We can talk over…pancakes."
The next two weeks passed in a happy blur for Jim as he and Spock had been spending all of their evenings together, sharing beds and showers and discovering the Vulcan's memories together. It seemed that since that first night, Spock had been having moments, both during wakefulness and sleep, where he would be inundated with past experiences of his childhood, attending school at the Academy, teaching xenolinguistics and afternoons with his mother in the garden at their family home on Vulcan. He knew it was only a matter of time before—No, he wasn't going to think of that.
He was going to focus on the time they were spending together now. Jim had decided that first day, that he wasn't going to leash his feelings. He would give Spock all the love and affection he wanted for as long as he wanted. In the meantime, he wouldn't think of the what-ifs, he wouldn't think about the fallout that was sure to come or the disgust Spock would feel once he came back to himself. No, Jim was content to live in the moment, content to spend his days working and his evenings loving. It was nice, loving someone that actually loved him in return. Knowing that for every minute Jim spend thinking about Spock, that Spock was thinking about him too.
When he woke up in the morning wrapped up in warm arms, smiling brown eyes staring back at him, Jim could almost imagine that this would go on forever. If it weren't for the fact that Spock almost never called him by his rank when they were together or that slight upturn of the lips—a full on grin for a Vulcan—he might be able to delude himself into believing that it was real. It was a nice fantasy…for however long it would last.
When little by little, Spock began to be less and less expressive, Jim knew it was almost over. Then, the Vulcan came to his quarters one night, a little over a month since his accident and Jim had been expecting the worst. Spock seemed every bit the controlled First Officer he had always known and he found himself fidgeting with a stylus as Spock took the seat on the other side of Jim's desk, determinedly not glancing over to the sleeping area.
They had awakened together that morning, legs entwined and still messy from the previous night's activities. He had known then that it would probably be their last time together before Spock remembered everything. The only details the Vulcan had been missing were the events leading up to and during the Narada crisis, he'd regained everything but the last two years of his life. Even though it gave Jim some comfort to know that Spock could have loved him had they met differently—that Bones had been right about sexuality—he knew once his First Officer remembered those last two years…it was over.
So, he'd taken Spock to bed like it was the last time he'd ever get to do so—because it was, and he knew it. He'd drank in the Vulcan's kisses like a dying man in the desert sucks water from a cactus. Jim's lips had mapped every inch of that beautiful, pale skin, his tongue had tasted every morsel of flesh offered and he had swallowed every bit of Spock's essence when it spilled into his mouth. Jim had taken time to love Spock in every way physically possible, aside from actual penetration. It was illogical—to borrow a phrase—he knew, but he figured that when the Vulcan regained his memories, then he may not be as pissed at Jim if he didn't cross that line. Looking into the eyes of the being across from him, it was clear.
At some point during the day either while working on the bridge, deep in meditation or working on one of the projects down in sciences, Spock had remembered everything. It was one thing to read a report of the things that were said and done during the Narada Crisis, of all the missions they'd been on and the arguments they'd had since then, but it was quite another to be in that moment. To know that you lived through them and to know that the man you thought you loved for six weeks…isn't what you thought he was. The chess games, the meals and conversations they'd shared over the past two years couldn't possibly make up for all the hurt Jim had caused. He'd been trying like crazy to earn Spock's friendship and he'd been succeeding and then Spock had lost all of who he was and what did Jim do? A few little touches and he'd caved, given in to his heart's desire knowing full well that this is where it would lead. Fuck.
Jim's heart clenched painfully, knowing what was to come. Here was Spock. Here was the man he had fallen in love with, completely aware of who he is and all the reasons he didn't love Jim in return, poised to rip his Captain's heart out. "Hey, Spock," he greeted, feeling his throat close in on itself. "You need something?"
"An explanation," the Vulcan intoned, his eyes stern, leaving no room for speculation as to what exactly Jim was to explain.
All the air in Jim's lungs left him instantly and he dropped his head, "Oh, Spock," his voice was shaking with the weight of his despair, "I'm so sorry." His heart felt like it was shriveling up inside and the tears were falling before he could stop them. "If you want to file charges…if you want to leave, I—" he took a calming breath that really didn't help, "I won't stop you."
"That will not be necessary," Spock's monotone flowed between them. "If anyone is at fault for this…misunderstanding…it is I." The Vulcan did the unexpected then, and rounded the desk. He pulled Jim out of his chair and into an embrace, "I could feel your love…knew your weakness and I used it to manipulate you into acting upon your emotions. It is my regret that you will bear such pain, but you were right. This must end now and we must return to how we were before. You are my most valued friend, and I cherish thee as such. Please, Jim, forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," Jim whispered through his sobs. "I'm just relieved that y-you don't hate me."
Jim didn't know how long he stood there, crying in Spock's arms but when they finally parted, he was exhausted. He watched, listlessly, as the Vulcan collected the few items that had migrated to Jim's quarters. Finally, Spock came to stand before him once more, "I will require a week of leave to meditate on the events of this past month and to refocus my controls."
"Whatever you need," Jim's voice sounded as empty as he felt.
With a nod, Spock left him there, heart bleeding out and soul screaming it's agony in silence.
Spock returned to his quarters and bit back the bile that was rising in the back of his throat. It was better this way. Jim would be safe this way—spared from suffering such depravity. He sank to his knees upon the meditation mat that he seldom used in the past weeks. It was a pity that his control was already so tenuous, having been unleashed by his amnesic self…otherwise; he might have at least had a few more days to live in Jim's embrace before it overcame him. Kaidth, he thought as he closed his eyes, the flames of the fire rising from the depths of his consciousness and burning him alive. His last thought, before all coherency abandoned him was, Please, Jim, T'hy'la. Forgive me. I did not know.