Reclining in bed and reading a fictional novel had not initially been one of my customary activities. I had deemed it a waste of time, time that could be better spent writing and finalizing reports, continuing work on experiments, checking the ship's status or scanning for anomalies in the vast uncharted space that the Enterprise travels through. Perhaps if I completed all of my duties and found myself with a cleared schedule would I then resort to sitting down and reading. The material would most likely only be reports or technical journals that pertained to the current or upcoming mission. However, this problem has never arisen since I always have an abundance of tasks. Idly sitting to pass the time is unproductive and illogical.
Of course this is not the first illogical action I have ever participated in because of James Tiberius Kirk. I doubt it will be the last.
Being a Vulcan and requiring less sleep, I usually awake an average of 3.2 Standard hours before Jim. I have grown attached to him in such a way that impedes me from removing myself from our bed while he sleeps. I find the warmth of the bed coupled with the steady tempo of his breathing very calming. Rather than let my mind wander, it has become habit for me to place a PADD with novels loaded into its memory on the bedside table. This has not always proven successful however. Especially if Jim is in a more feral mood and I awake to find it lying across the floor. Over a span of three years, four PADDs have been broken in such a way.
It has been 2.7 hours since I first awoke. He is still asleep beside me. Given our activities last night – which had been more vigorous than is common because of a long 'dry spell' caused by a long string of missions with little to no time in-between – his body no doubt needs all the rest it can get. I am on the last pages of a novel recommended by Nyota.
I had been slightly apprehensive to attempt to read her latest suggestion. She often gives me poetic titles written in an older version of Standard. The first few had been early 17th century Terran plays by William Shakespeare. He is often quoted by Terrans and is well known throughout the galaxy as an exceptional writer with most of his work translated into many alien languages. I agreed to read them without hesitation.
I find current human idioms difficult to comprehend, but I can normally surmise their meanings well enough if they are given in context. Even Jim, who never likes to admit intellectual weakness, confessed that he couldn't make it through a page of any Shakespeare play unless it was heavily annotated. I had promptly abandoned the endeavor.
Once I was finished I placed the PADD down, deciding against starting another novel in favor of observing Jim sleep. My choice yielded disappointing results as he was fully covered by bedding, which obscured his attractive form. He appears to be sleeping on his side, facing away from me. Only his untidy blond hair is visible. I reach out and gently stroke it. He stirs then turns over onto his back, whipping his right arm over and startling me as it and his shoulder land on my covered lap. The movement has removed the bedding from his toned midsection. Affection bubbles in my stomach and I fail to resist the urge to trail my fingers up his smooth abdomen and chest. His skin is uncommonly warm, a result from the insulation the covers provided.
My touch causes him to rouse from his sleep. "How long until Alpha Shift starts?" he groans, arching his back to loosen his stiff muscles.
One of my eyebrows rose as I look down at him in mild amusement. "Alpha Shift begins in 3 days, 22 hours, 23 minutes and 38 seconds."
After a long pause, which can be assumed to be the amount of time that had been required for his drowsy mind to fully comprehend my response, his eyes shoot open and he takes in his surroundings.
The hotel room is sparsely decorated, themed in the colors of bright, clean white and creamed coffee. It is a corner room, so two of the walls contain many large windows that flood in the morning sunlight through thin crisp drapes. Only one large featureless painting hangs on the wall above the drawers next to the bathroom. The bed we slept in is a large metal-framed king with an oversized puffy duvet. When we had first entered the room last evening, I noted and enjoyed the simplicity of it; Jim had only seemed interesting in the quality of the bed.
He looked up at me, smirking. "Yanno, you could have just said that we were on shore leave and that I didn't have to worry about it."
"That was not the question you posed." I replied simply.
Jim chuckles and closes his eyes again. I continue to look down at him, a golden body, glowing from sunlight. He is starkly contrasting to the white room and my own pale skin.
"How long have you been up?"
"Approximately 3.1 hours."
"You weren't reading that sissy stuff Uhura gave you, were you?"
I tilt my head slightly. "Sissy?"
"Yeah, you know." Jim gestured his hand in a lazy circular motion. "Chick stuff. Not macho, manly stuff."
"If you are referring to a romance genre book that is more often read by females than males, then yes, I was." When he frowned, I decided to explain. "I find all of the books' aspects completely illogical and therefore rather fascinating."
He looks up at me again and graces me with a large smile that causes my chest to constrict. He gets up and positions himself over me under the duvet, grabbing both of my hands and intertwining our fingers. My body tenses. A torrent of Jim's emotions – arousal, fondness, happiness, love – travels through our fingers' contact as he begins to trail kisses along the edge of one of the pointed ears he finds so captivating. "I thought spending all this sexy time with such an illogical human would be enough to satisfy your curiosities. If it's not enough, I'm sure I can give you more to work with."
I do not respond. I cannot. Jim's emotions flood my mind, suffocating me with a warm and overpowering embrace. My eyes are closed. My heartbeat has quickened, and my breathing has become heavier. It takes all of my control not to tremble. My emotional restraining capacities are soon overcome and my body starts to relax. I let out a small moan.
I feel his lips form into a smile along my jaw line. That was all the encouragement he needed, all the evidence he needed to know I would not stop him. He presses his naked body against mine causing us to sink deeper into the pillows.
As his lips travel down my neck a loud gurgling sound breaks the silence. He pauses and my eyes shoot open. It was enough of a distraction for me to regain my mental capabilities. I tense again. Freeing my hands and seizing Jim's shoulders, I push him back to arm's length.
"You require sustenance."
He frowns at me with pouting lips, engrossing blue eyes flickering with his excitement. "Some things take priority over eating, Spock."
His argument, as illogical as it already was, was undermined further by the sound of his stomach a second and louder time.
One of my eyebrows rises to conveying my skepticism. He glares down at his abdomen as if to accuse it of mutiny.
He finally sighs and retreats off of me. "Alright, fine. We'll get breakfast." He crawls off the bed to go to the bathroom, but not before pointing a stern finger at me. "This will be continued later."
I give a small smile and a slight nod. "I look forward to it."
Jim groans in a disappointed manner and walks into the bathroom, muttering about how I am a 'cocktease'.
Then he disappears behind the closed door I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding.
It is not that I find our acts of intimacy not enjoyable. On the contrary, I derive as much pleasure from them as he does. I have initiated it on numerous occasions. It is also not that I am ashamed of the emotions he stirs within me. I had come to terms with an undeniable fact a year into your intimate relationship – I was never going to be able to retain complete control over my emotions when I was with him. This knowledge had initially caused some fear in me; after all, we spend a large amount of time in each other's company. Jim, however, is professional enough to refrain from purposefully causing emotions in me while on duty.
So it is not that I do not desire to engage in intercourse; I merely do not want to lose all of my mental sensibilities so early in the day. And if I gave into Jim every time he was aroused we would most likely never leave the bed.
He claims in his defense that it is difficult to 'keep it in his pants' when he's not wearing any. I must admit it has some logical merit. But not much.
Author's Note: So I have no idea what will become of this. Series? Drabbles? An actual plot line? I'm leaning towards a series of stories about Spock doing illogical things because of Jim. It would be very hard to run out of ideas for that broad concept. Although if I'm trying to be original, it may be easy. To run out of ideas, that is.
Anyway, let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your opinions. Everyone seem in character? Do the sentences seem overly complicated? Sounding like Spock can be hard. Logical, pointy-eared bastard. I should probably get Bones into the mix... hopefully doing more than looking disgusted and grumbling like a lot of fan fiction.
Thanks for reading!