Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, and I do not make any money from these fictions.
Summary: Spock decides to seduce his captain, despite Jim's obliviousness and misgivings…K/S slash.
"Captain...Jim, I wish to converse with you in private," Spock informs Jim primly as they step into the turbolift, one too-warm Vulcan hand brushing against the captain's wrist.
"Sure Spock," Jim responds with a brilliant smile.
He almost falls over when he gets a small smile in return.
Well, actually, it was more like an upward twitch of the lips - but that action from Spock was like hysterical laughter from anyone else...
The turbolift quickly drops them off at the appropriate level and they are in Jim's quarters before he knows it.
"So, Spock..." Jim trails off leadingly, attempting to cajole his first officer into starting the discussion.
While Jim waits for the Vulcan to ponder his words carefully (Spock likes to weigh each comment before giving it, if possible), he pulls his gold command shirt over his head, leaving him in the black muscle shirt he wears underneath.
Now that the itchy uniform top is gone, Jim looks between his bed and his chair. He really wants to lay in bed, but it would probably be too uncomfortable for his Vulcan friend.
Jim sighs, sprawling in his large office chair at his desk and gesturing for Spock to take the smaller chair on the other side.
"I prefer to stand, Jim," Spock tells him.
Jim nods, used to Spock's different preferences after a few months of working with him. He is a big unsettled, however, when Spock walks up behind his chair.
"It is the first officer's responsibility to care for his captain in all ways," Spock informs him softly. "You seem tense, Jim. Allow me to give you a massage."
"I...I'm fine, Spock," Jim replies.
"I insist, Jim. Dr. McCoy..." Spock is interrupted by Jim's groan.
"Yeah, Bones would probably get on my case for overworking, huh?" the captain sighs. "Fine - massage away, First Officer. Do you want me on the chair or on the bed?"
"The bed would be preferable," Spock replies in a strangled voice.
Jim looks at him strangely. His first officer's voice is usually so smooth and modulated...But Jim just sighs, stripping off his muscle shirt and lying face-down on the bed in his regulation slacks.
"Do you have the necessary lubrication?" Spock asks him seriously.
Jim giggles a bit, because if he didn't know better they could almost be preparing to have sex, Vulcan-style. His first officer didn't do anything by halves...
"I'm James Tiberius Kirk, of course I have lubrication. Mr. Right Hand has been getting a lot of use since I became captain - I refuse to sleep with any of my subordinate officers, and that greatly reduces my relief to myself, guests, and shore leave," Jim tells him flippantly, rifling around his bedside drawer and withdrawing a bottle of oil. "This should do."
"Why do you refuse to sleep with any of your subordinate officers, Jim?" the Vulcan questions as he tips a bit of oil onto his elegant hands.
Jim shoots him an incredulous look.
"Spock, you of all people have to know how spectacularly bad of an idea office romances are. You were very, very lucky when you broke up that Uhura is as logical as she is. I've had problems in the past with obsessed stalkers - I really don't want to chance that with any of my crew," Jim tells him, pulling a pillow to his face and relaxing into the bed as Spock began massaging his tense shoulders.
"My relationship with Lieutenant Uhura was based on logic," Spock admits. "But my counterpart urged me to follow my feelings, so I terminated that association because my feelings lead me to another."
Jim moans as Spock hits a particularly sore area, and he wiggles a bit under those warm, knowing hands.
"Mmm...you're really good at this, Spock. I love your hands..." Jim murmurs sleepily. "Are you going to tell me who you have a crush on?"
The last bit is asked off-handedly, as Jim just wants his first officer to continue speaking. He really does not care what Spock says, as long as the Vulcan keeps talking with that soothing voice of his...
"Jim..." Spock sighs, his warm hands trailing down the human's spine until they began kneading his sensitive lower back. "Have I not given you sufficient information so that you may infer to whom I wish to engage in a future relationship?"
"Spock..." Jim whines. "I'm half asleep. 'Nother night make me guess..."
The captain trails off with a yawn, relaxing in a boneless sprawl on his mattress as he drifts off to sleep.
Spock looks fondly down upon his captain. Perhaps it was not the best idea to so completely relax his Jim before their conversation...he had not expected for the human to fall asleep so readily.
But Spock knows that Jim has been working hard lately, and he cannot begrudge him sleep. He simply trails his hands over that trim back one last time, making sure all the knots were gone, before damping the lights and exiting the room.
The next evening Bones, Spock, and Jim meet in the mess hall for dinner. Jim is delighted at the sight of dessert.
Bones has a very, very bad feeling as he sees Jim dive for the popsicles like an excited little boy. Though Jim can be surprisingly oblivious when it came to such matters, the doctor sees how the Vulcan is looking at his best friend.
Especially when Jim wraps those cocksucker lips around a watermelon popsicle and sucks and licks and nibbls for all he is worth.
His friend has an oral fixation like you would not believe, and Spock's eyes are firmly fixated on those lips in turn.
Well, Spock's eyes and the eyes of just about every man, woman, and humanoid being in the mess hall at the time.
Oh - and the guards observing them through the security cameras too, Bones is sure. Jim has always been the type to stop traffic - and enjoy doing it, too.
The attention whore.
So, anyway, Bones just has to sit there uncomfortably, grumbling, as Jim enjoys his watermelon popsicle and everyone else enjoys Jim enjoying his watermelon popsicle.
Hell, Bones is completely heterosexual, and even he would not have been able to resist if Jim had offered to get down on his knees and let a certain part of his anatomy replace the popsicle...
Well, he would not have been able to resist if they weren't best friends, anyway. The situation has come up a few times over the course of their Starfleet education, and Bones has somehow managed to remind himself that Jim is the best friend he ever had, and it wouldn't do to take advantage of said best friend when he is too drunk and/or horny to properly consent.
Because god knows that sometimes Jim gets so worked up that...well, even Vulcans look good.
And he is afraid that Spock is going to get hurt because of it - not that he cares about the pointy-eared hobgoblin of course, but such complications would interfere with the working relationships among the senior officers.
And as CMO, it is his responsibility to care for the mental and physical health of the officers.
Even if Jim does make it damn hard to do, sometimes.
As witnessed by the multitude of men who look like they were about to go into cardiac arrest as Jim deep-throats his watermelon popsicle.
"Spock, sit down at the table and set up the chess set while I get this sweat off me," Jim tells his friend as he pulls his workout shirt over his head.
They just finished sparring at the gym, and while Jim's clothes are so wet with sweat that they are sticking to him, Spock is completely dry.
Vulcans just do not perspire, according to Spock.
"Yes, Captain," Spock replies evenly, eyes locked on the bare skin revealed as Jim shimmied out of his workout sweats.
"Ugh – do you mind if I take a quick shower?" the blonde asks.
"I shall wait here," the Vulcan responds, eyes darkening as Jim stretches his arms upward, working out the knots in his back and moaning at his sore muscles.
Contrary to Spock's earlier declaration, the Vulcan could feel perspiration gathering at the back of his neck and his temples. His body temperature was rising…along with a certain body part…
"Thanks, Spock," Jim beams, utterly oblivious as he slips out of his Starfleet-issued briefs and into his private bathroom.
Spock swallows, attempting to focus his attention on setting up the chess board.
But then he hears the water turn on, and his mind is filled with images of a naked, wet Jim…
The Vulcan hides his hands beneath the table, tightening them into fists as he attempts to master his body's arousal. It would not be logical to enter the bathroom and invade Jim's personal space by joining his captain in the shower…
A few minutes later, Jim slips back into the room, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips as he uses another to rigorously rub his hair dry.
"I hope you haven't been too bored waiting?" Jim jokes as he walks over to his dresser.
"Boredom is a state of mind that Vulcans do not allow themselves, Captain," Spock disputes.
He has certainly not been bored – not with mental images of Jim in the shower to keep him company.
"That's good, Spock," the blonde replies absently, riffling through his top drawer and frowning at his options.
And then he drops to his knees to get at the bottom drawer, and Spock can see his firm buttocks through the thin, wet, transparent fabric of the white towel.
"Aha," Jim mutters to himself, finding a clean set of boxers and a white undershirt. "You won't be uncomfortable if I don't get all formal, do you? I turned up the temperature before because I knew you were coming to play chess tonight, but it really is a little warm for my uniform."
"I do not feel discomfort over your attire, Captain," Spock replies a bit stiffly – and that is a lie, or as close to it as he gets, because his pants are causing him quite a bit of discomfort at the moment due to his captain's lack of attire.
"Great," Jim beams, dropping the towel carelessly and slipping into his boxers and the light shirt. "Are you ready to play chess?"
"The board is set up, Captain," Spock answers.
"Yes, I can see that," the blonde answers back a bit fondly. "But don't you think you should call me Jim? We're in my quarters, I'm in my boxers, and we're about to play a friendly game of chess. I'm not your captain right now."
Spock looks Jim straight in the eye, and the intense emotions swirling in those dark orbs nearly scare Jim.
"You are always my captain," the Vulcan declares seriously. "Jim."
Jim's mouth is dry, and he has a funny feeling in his stomach, but the blonde just forgets it and smiles and makes the first move.
"Good game, Spock," Jim congratulates with a smile as the Vulcan takes his king. "I'll get you next time."
Spock gazes at the chessboard intensely for a moment before gathering his courage.
"You already have me, Jim," he replies seriously, dark eyes intent.
Jim stills completely - like a cornered rabbit.
"Yeah, we're great friends," he smiles weakly in offering.
"That is not what I intended to convey with my words," Spock disputes. "I wish for a romantic relationship with you."
"Spock…" Jim murmurs softly, hands clenched tightly on his thighs. "I told you that I wouldn't sleep with any of my crew."
"I can maintain professionalism despite our private relationship, Jim," the Vulcan counters.
"And when we break up?" Jim asks. "I'm not the logical choice – I'm not Uhura."
"I am well aware of that," Spock replies. "And logic has little to do with my decision. I am following my emotions, as my elder self instructed."
Jim stands up abruptly, his chair falling over behind him as he began to pace.
"Do you love me already?" the captain asks, sounding lost.
It is Spock's turn to still, and Jim continues as if he has not just asked an extremely sensitive question.
"You – you're other self – touched my mind, on Delta Vega. I felt what you felt, saw what you saw. He called it emotional transference. I call it a Vulcan mind fuck. He loved me. And I felt it. But it didn't work out between them. I have dreams sometimes, about leaving the Enterprise and going to Vulcan and undergoing the kolinahr, because I am so ashamed of my feelings – feelings for me. I'm you in my dreams, thinking about the me from that other time. And then he dies – I die – and it seems like the world ends, because I haven't said everything I should have said, and I've made so many mistakes, and…" Jim's rambling is cut off by Spock's warm lips taking his in a sweet kiss.
"We are not them, Jim," the Vulcan points out softly. "I am not ashamed of my love for you. My counterpart did not lose his planet and his mother as a young adult – I know just how easily all can be lost. I will not make the same mistakes that he did."
"Love?" Jim asks uncertainly.
"Love," Spock acknowledges.
"How long?" the captain asks.
"It is impossible to define one specific moment," the Vulcan answers. "But I was physically attracted to you from the moment you sat the Kobayashi Maru, and mentally attracted to you from your first appearance on the bridge. And I admitted the truth to myself when you first gave me permission to come aboard."
Jim stares at him, lost.
"So soon?" he asks.
"I too experienced some emotional transference. Though I did not come into physical contact with my counterpart, our mental connection grew strong with close proximity," Spock informs his friend.
"So you don't really love me," Jim disputes. "You just think you do."
Spock does not respond in words, just leans forward for another kiss.
Instead of sweet, this one is passionate and consuming and Jim feels as if he is a new planet that Spock is exploring and declaring "fascinating." His first officer's attentions are nearly overwhelming, and Jim cannot help but throw his arms around Spock's neck and kiss back just as passionately.
"I know my own mind," Spock declares firmly as he pulls back from their kiss.
Jim nods softly in assent.
"But do I know mine?" he asks softly. "I think my mind has accepted and dealt with most of your - his – emotions through dreams. The memories don't really bother me anymore, but they are there. How do I know my emotions are genuine?"
"Just give us a chance," Spock says – and the tone of his voice is nearly pleading. And Jim…Jim wants to give them a chance. He wants to feel the love that Spock Prime felt for his own captain…
"All right," he whispers softly, looking into Spock serious brown eyes. The Vulcan's expression lights up, though perhaps most humans would not recognize it as doing such. But Jim – he can read the happiness on his first officer's face.
And as their lips touch, sealing their new beginning with a kiss, Jim just prays that they do not make the same mistakes as their counterparts…