A/N: This was written for the reel_startrek challenge over on livejournal.

And to You, I Belong

He's rather unsurprised when Sulu, instead of exiting the conference room, closes the door behind the last person – his pilot was acting tense and jittery the entire meeting. Sitting on the edge of the table, Kirk swings his legs back and forth as he watches his officer. "What'd you need, Hikaru?" he asks, letting a bit of a grin appear.

The pilot pulls one of the chairs over in front of Kirk, flipping it around so he can rest his arms on the back as he sits. He glances up at Kirk, a torn expression on his face. Kirk lets his grin widen and leans forward, listening to his response.

The words catch him by surprise, and he sputters. If he'd been unlucky enough to be drinking anything, it would be all over his shirt. "Wait – what?"

Dark eyes glance up at him from the safety behind eyelashes, and Sulu's eyes scrunch at his expression. Sulu sighs, expelling a big breath of air and fidgeting in his chair for a moment before he organizes his thoughts enough to begin speaking. "You know that Pavel and I have wanted to go public for a while now, but we needed to find a way to announce our relationship without getting Starfleet's panties in a bunch about office romances." And then some commentary about research and calculations and theorems, all done by Chekov of course.

Kirk taps a finger against his chin, his friends' proposition running through his mind. It seems simple on the surface. "So, let me get this straight, Hikaru," he says. "You want me to seduce my First Officer?"

Scrunching his face to the side, the pilot gives a nod. "Pretty much. You don't have to stay with him. Pavel said the key factor in his equations is that Starfleet finds out about the relationship, not the length of it." Then Sulu gives him a look – one full of such hope and fear that Kirk can't help but smile in an attempt to reassure his friend. He's been rooting for the two of them since the very beginning, and wants to help them as much as he can. He wouldn't have any problem doing what Sulu asked – the initial attraction has always been there, at least on his end, but…

"There's just one flaw in Pavel's plan. Spock hates me," he admits, the burn of frustration tingling in his gut. He'd been hoping, once Spock had decided to take the position as his First, that their working relationship would continue to improve. Kirk had been disappointed to find the opposite to be the truth.

Sulu, seemingly unconcerned, shrugs off Kirk's protest. Even after Kirk explains about how illogical and impulsive and infuriating he knows he is from Spock's point of view, the pilot doesn't seem to hear a word he's saying.

"I think you've got the wrong idea about his reactions to you," Sulu counters, leaning forward with a shrewd look in his eyes. "In fact, I'm so sure that you're wrong that I'm willing to bet that antique katana you're dying to get your hands on that he'll date you."

Kirk's eyebrows rise in surprise at Sulu's challenge. He stalls for time, considering the offer. He's wanted that sword since Sulu first brought it to the ship. With that on the table, he's willing to try for Spock – instead of just trying to find another way for his friends to make their relationship public.

And then he asks what he'll lose if he can't get Spock to date him – and the sly smile that appears on Sulu's face makes his naturally competitive streak come to the fore. Leaning back nonchalantly, Sulu gives his answer with triumph in his voice. "If you're not able to seduce him, then you give up your timeslots with the new Virtual Reality machines they're fiddling with down on Deck 5."

He can't help but twinge at the suggestion –he's been eagerly anticipating the test rounds for the VR room since the Science Department announced the project. The new holographic technology is supposed to be nearly indistinguishable from real life, and he wanted to see what he could program it to do. But what Sulu is offering means just as much to the pilot – and either way, Kirk is determined to help his friends find a solution to their problem. Nodding, he agrees.

This is going to be fun.


He's been delaying all morning. Trying to tell himself that he's not afraid of the answer, but just attempting to decide if it's the best course of action. Kirk has been wasting time fluctuating back and forth between plots, but nothing better has presented itself. He'll just have to go up, and ask, and face the consequences – and the loss of his VR room privileges.

Gulping, he gets up from his command chair and takes the circuitous route to the Science station. Kirk's waited so long that the shift change is occurring, and the Bridge is mostly empty; there's only a small knot of people on the opposite side of the room. Stopping behind the Vulcan, he reaches out with a hand and taps him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Spock," he begins, not waiting for his First to turn around. "I was wondering if you were free tonight, for a game of chess in my quarters."

The shoulder under his fingertips tenses, as a horse flank does to try and shake off the flies. A glance, the dark eyes telling Kirk exactly what the Vulcan thinks of spending any more time than necessary with his captain. Kirk just smiles through it, refusing to let the cold attitude chill him even further – he has a purpose, and there are stakes.

"I do not believe extracurricular activities are a productive use of my time resources," Spock says, his voice cold and hard and formal. Kirk stiffens, the smile trembling before it disappears. It's quite obvious that the Vulcan means that spending time with him is a waste. He only wishes that Sulu were here to see it, and how low Spock's opinion of Kirk is.

His hand falls away, no longer a gnat against Spock's shoulder, a burst of anger flowing out of nowhere, surprising him. He can't comprehend why Spock is so unwilling to play even a single game with him – what had he ever done to the Vulcan?

Turning, he steps off the platform and toward the turbo lift. And he's certainly not above parting shots. He throws his comment over his shoulder, letting much of his anger into his voice – but none of his hurt. "I know you don't like me much, Spock, but I think if you gave me a shot you'd be surprised at what you find."

Because he is turned away, he misses the surprise and interest that flash, almost hidden, through the Vulcan's eyes. But before he can take another step, there is a touch at his elbow freezing him in place.

"I have just remembered, Captain, that I will have sufficient time for a chess match starting at 2200 hours, if you are available?" The words, the retraction, surprise him into silence. For a moment, he wants to refuse – his anger demands it, that he doesn't have to stoop to taking Spock's scraps, and he'll just find another way to get Sulu and Chekov what they want. But after the comment he threw in Spock's face, he can't just keep walking.

So instead of storming off in silence, he says, "Okay," because Spock doesn't deserve any more than that at the moment, and exits the Bridge via the turbolift – not waiting for a further response.


It starts off awkwardly, as Kirk knew it would. They're both stumbling around each other, and there are many long pauses where neither knows what to say. He sighs to himself many times, knowing how ridiculous this is and wishing he were anywhere but here – and here is his own quarters. In his head, he's cursing Sulu and his great plans that are falling to pieces as Kirk watches.

He makes a comment, and Spock stares at him – surprised appraisal in his eyes. And then the temperature in the room starts to change. Something inside the Vulcan loosens, the silences become shorter and less frequent. Kirk, never one to hold a grudge, lets the last bits of his anger go. It starts with a question about one of the projects Spock's science department is currently researching, genuinely interested.

And it continues, until four games later they're truly enjoying each other's company. Or, at least, Kirk is enjoying Spock's company – and it seems to him that Spock is enjoying himself as well. The Vulcan is hard to read most times, but it appears as if he is as relaxed as he ever gets, and speaking openly.

Finishing his move, Kirk leans back – resting his hands behind his head and grinning at Spock. Kirk watches as the Vulcan stares at the board for a moment, clearly seeing the play, and being confused by it. One eyebrow raises, soft and fine as a feather, as Spock glances up at Kirk. A deliberate hand reaches out, going where Kirk expected it to – towards the piece with the most logical defensive move.

He leans forward, his hand darting out to bat Spock's hand away from that piece. "Not that one, Spock, that's a bad move," he says with a chuckle. Then his hand actually comes into contact with Spock's, and the Vulcan jerks, pulling away as if burnt.

But this time, he doesn't blame Spock. He felt it too, the shimmer of energy that tinkled through his nerves the moment their skin came into contact.

And he's not surprised when the Vulcan retreats, fleeing Kirk's quarters before the game even finishes. What does surprise him is his own reaction; red hot desire flowing through him, and the need to see the Vulcan again.


He gets his opportunity to spend a lot of time with Spock, but not in the way he was expecting. Their next mission, they're trying to facilitate a trade agreement between the Tenbu – a dog-like species that inhabit a planet rich in dilithium – and the Federation. For the purpose of the proceedings, Spock and he are going to spend the entire time on the planet, getting to know the Tenbu and their customs.

Kirk already knows how invaluable Spock is during these types of missions, but this time it's different. This time he can't keep his eyes off the Vulcan – amazed at how easily Spock maneuvers the social and diplomatic trappings of the Tenbu. At how the advice he gives Kirk, always at just the right moment, steers him away from making a blunder and smoothes out the negotiation process.

He also can't seem to stop himself from touching the Vulcan. Every opportunity he gets, his hand is on Spock's arm, or shoulder, or the small of his back. Normally, Kirk tried to suppress his overly tactile nature near Spock, knowing how adverse the Vulcan is to touch. But he can't control himself, the desire to feel Spock's heat is too strong – and that desire leads to other daydreams, which are trying to distract him from his duties.

Like now, at the very end of the treatise process, when he stops his pacing to pause behind Spock. He curls a hand around one broad shoulder, his thumb rubbing lazy patterns into the fabric and the flesh beneath. He continues talking with the dignitaries, asking his question – but his thoughts are somewhere else. The feel of that shoulder, the heat and the hardness of Spock's muscles, send him down paths that are familiar, but have never been traversed with the Vulcan as catalyst. For instance, how that shoulder would feel, digging into his chest as it holds him captive against a wall as Spock pounds him into oblivion. Or, how Spock's chest is as broad and strongly muscled as his shoulders, and Kirk wonders what it would feel like pressed against his back as he's taken from behind.

His vivid half-dreams disappear in smoke when the shoulder stiffens beneath his hand, and Spock pulls away. The first time he's done so, since all this touching began. Surprised, Kirk reaches out a hand towards the Vulcan again – decides against it, for now, and reins the impulse in.

Turning away, he begins his pacing again as he pushes Spock's behavior to the back of his mind. The lead Tenbu asks him a question, and he focuses on the discussion – until the conversation comes to a lull, all details set. There's a moment of silence, as everyone tries to think of any missing clauses. But there aren't any, and they send the mock up to the Enterprise, for the final draft to be completed.

Chuckling as he slaps one of the dog-people on the shoulder – it huffs in response – Kirk asks what the next step is.

"There will be a giant dinner, oh honored sir." The universal translator takes his growls and yips and changes them into Standard with ease. "Tomorrow, yes yes." And the dignitary nods, then says his goodbyes and trots off after the rest of its people, and most of Kirk's crew.

Leaving him alone with Spock, who is still sitting stiff and formal at the table. Kirk decides on impulse to ignore the uncomfortable moment that last occurred, and continue as they have been for the last week or so.

"Did you hear that, Spock?" he asks, walking over to the Vulcan and reaching out a hand to grasp Spock's forearm. "We're going to have a feast tomorrow, in our honor!"

Lightning fast, Spock jerks his arm out of Kirk's grasp, bringing it close to his body as if to protect himself. "I would not repeat that action, Captain," he murmurs, his voice low and laced with warning.

Confused, and hurt more by Spock's actions than he has any right to be, Kirk takes a step back. Any trace of cheer he'd been feeling at a mission completed successfully disappears in an instant, as if it had never been. Lowering his hand, trying to ignore the latent heat that still remains from the contact with Spock's body, Kirk forms a fist.

This is useless, and always will be. He'll just have to tell Sulu he tried, and come up with something else for them. He feels a pang of regret, but it's vastly eclipsed by the pain in his heart he's trying to ignore. It's not like he should care, like he does care and damn it –

"Fine, if that's what you want," he says just as low, knowing that Spock's ears will have no problem picking up the comment. And, because he can't stand to be in the same room just now, he leaves.


For all intents and purposes, the banquet went perfectly. And after the food was eaten, the crew began mingling with the Tenbu, and everyone is enjoying themselves. Kirk watches them interact, the smiles on his people's faces, and grunts to himself.

He's been turned into a pathetic, lovesick fool after just a week in Spock's company. It's quite obvious that he's the only one not having fun, and he blames it solely on the Vulcan and his outstanding qualities. If Spock could just be a little less intelligent, a little less sexy, anything to make Kirk not desire his presence on a continuous basis. Even now, when he knows Spock is angry at him for who knows what, he can't get the Vulcan out of his head.

It was bad enough just thinking about him last night, but to sit next to him during the banquet – because, of course, his second in command is going to be at his right hand – and listen to him, and feel the heat radiating off his body was nearly enough to drive Kirk insane.

The slim Tenbu female next to him lays a hand/paw on his arm, making the huffing noise that passes for their laughter. Her laughter distracts him, until he thinks back on the words that have been automatically pouring out of his mouth and realizes he'd just made a joke. Grinning, he covers her hand/paw with his own, feeling the silken texture of the fur that coats her entire body.

Her presence is meant to distract him. He started flirting with her at the table, when he couldn't get his mind off of Spock, and it'd continued out onto the dance floor. It's also an attempt to remind himself that he doesn't need the Vulcan, that he has plenty of attractive and pleasing partners just falling over themselves to get with him.

It's not working very well. Throughout dinner, even though he was paying attention to her, Kirk was hyper-aware of Spock's presence at his side. And how the muscles in the Vulcan's back and shoulders kept tensing the longer he was in Kirk's company.

Even now, when he's been trying to ignore the fact, he's acutely aware that Spock is off to his left. And even when he's taken pains not to glance at his First, he knows that the Vulcan is facing him, and that eyes full of rage have been ghosting over him the entire time he's been standing here. It just serves to make the knot of hurt and frustration in his belly harden.

Resolute, refusing to give in to his desire and glance at Spock – or, even worse, the irrational need to walk to his side and drop down to his knees, begging for forgiveness – Kirk chuckles at the joke he doesn't even remember telling. Leaning close to the Tenbu female, he whispers something that's supposed to be provocative in her ear – but to his ears it sounds lame and trite.

She doesn't seem to notice, as she lifts a hand/paw to hide her surprised little titter. He watches the motion, knowing it would normally interest him, but just not feeling anything.

But what he does feel is the burning hot hand, like a brand, that encircles his arm – tugging it harshly from under the female's grasp. She gasps in surprise, but Kirk hardly notices – all he has eyes for is the Vulcan who came up on him, all unawares.

He stands, mute, as the Tenbu stares up at Spock with wide, shocked eyes. Then his jaw literally drops, as Spock doesn't answer her confused question – instead, the Vulcan just emits a low, harsh growl.

Backing up a step, the Tenbu bows, murmuring an apology before she flees from Kirk's side. At the sight of her retreating form, the silence in Kirk snaps, and he glares at the Vulcan as he radiates rage. How dare he, after rebuffing Kirk so harshly last night, he has no right and Kirk can do whatever he pleases as long as it doesn't impair his ability to do his job.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks, speaking slowly so that the rage inside him has plenty of time to let itself be known – even for a Vulcan who purportedly doesn't understand emotion.

Spock acts as if he didn't even speak, just snarls with the curl of a lip as he focuses on the Tenbu's retreating form. If anything, his First's silence just serves to increase Kirk's anger. He tugs on his arm, trying to break free of Spock's grasp – but the Vulcan is preternaturally strong compared to the Human, and Kirk can't break free.

"Let go of me," Kirk hisses, putting every ounce of command he possesses into the order.

And it is blithely ignored. In fact, Spock does the exact opposite – using his hold on Kirk's arm to drag him through the dance floor, and out into the empty gardens. Kirk tries to prevent it, but he's as weak as a babe compared to Spock, and cannot stop himself from being dragged along. They enter the maze that takes up a good quarter of the garden grounds, and Spock gives Kirk one last tug to get him inside the privacy of the stone walls.

Once inside, Spock releases Kirk's arm, standing to deliberately block any attempts to escape on Kirk's part. Ignoring the Vulcan for a moment, Kirk rubs his arm where it's sore from the tightness of Spock's grip, and then glares up at Spock.

"Are you going to explain yourself, now?" he asks, his voice bordering on the snarl Spock emitted just minutes before. "I'm a grown man, I can flirt with whoever the hell I want –"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Spock's body is slammed up against him, and he slams into the wall – Spock's arms and legs like a cage, holding him in place. Spock's head dips to his collarbone, and Kirk can hear him, can feel him inhaling his scent.

"No, you may not," the words come out mostly growl, as one burning hand strokes down Kirk's side, grasps his ass and squeezes. "You are mine."

"What the – hell?" Kirk manages to gasp, as his body automatically responds by thrusting forward into Spock. The Vulcan gives a purr-growl of approval and begins suckling on Kirk's neck while his hand continues to knead Kirk's ass.

It feels so damn good and Kirk can't help that his body reacts, curls into Spock sending all the nonverbal signals that he desires more – more. But the anger inside him is still rampant, and no matter what he wants, desperately – needs like breath – he's not going to give in that easily.

He places both hands on Spock's chest, giving himself leverage – and pushes with all his strength, trying to get the Vulcan to move away. Snarls in frustration himself, when it doesn't work. The snarl devolves into a moan, as Spock punishes him for his effort – by grinding his erection against Kirk's thigh, which nearly eradicates any higher thinking Kirk was capable of.

"Mine," Spock whispers against his throat, licking a trail along the bruises already purpling flesh. "You are not allowed to desire anyone like this, this is mine and only for me – no one can touch, no one else is ever allowed."

"But you didn't want me," Kirk whimpers, turned round by his hurt and confusion, and the need that awakens fire within him at Spock's touch.

Spock whimpers low in his throat, a sad little sound – and then he shifts against Kirk without warning, pressing their foreheads together. At the same moment there is a touch of heated fingers, a whisper of words. Before he has time to process the fact that he's now staring into wide mahogany eyes, there's a flood of emotionsthoughtsimpressions invading his mind. Kirk gasps, but he's experienced something like this before and can handle the overload of information.

It takes a moment, but then he's able to understand what was given him – can see, clear as day, and why couldn't he tell before? Spock wanted him, has always wanted him. It's why he stayed away, tried to distance himself. Kirk knows, deep down to his very bones what it was like – the longing, the constant warring of emotion and logic that Spock was fighting every day he was aboard the Enterprise. How something snapped, that moment in Kirk's quarters when their hands touched – and Spock terrified himself with the thought that he could not distance himself anymore. How he still tried to deny himself, and the emotions running through him – how he tried to force Kirk away.

"Mine," Spock whispers, his dark eyes staring into Kirk's as he watches, reading Kirk's reactions as surely as Kirk is reading his memories. As the memory overload retreats, Kirk's knees give out, and he would have fallen had it not been for Spock's hard body holding him up, the heat pressing him against the wall.

All anger flown, because he knows, Kirk gives himself in to the desire burning in his blood. Tangling his hands in Spock's hair, he pulls the Vulcan even closer until their lips meet. And it feels right, like nothing else ever has, as Spock cradles his head, gentle, while at the same time grinding against him, hard. The contrast does delicious things to Kirk's brain, as does the feel of Spock's lips and tongue and teeth against his mouth – nothing gentle in the kiss, but then again Kirk doesn't want there to be.

He moans in the back of his throat, drowning in sensation and barely remembering to breathe when they part for a moment before Spock is nibbling on his lip once more as a prelude to another kiss. The Vulcan's hand slips between their bodies, a palm brushes against his rock-hard cock through his pants, and he whimpers in desire. This, this, is what he's been dying for, this man and his companionship and his touch – he just never knew, until now. And if it hadn't been for Sulu's silly bet, he never would have known.

The teeth pause in their nibbling, all movement from the Vulcan stilled in an instant. Spock pulls back, and Kirk can sense the wall that appears between them in less time than the beat of a heart. Confused even more now than before, Kirk fumbles for Spock – his hands tugging helplessly on the fabric of the Vulcan's shirt, trying to pull him close once again.

"Spock?" he manages to get out around the fog of lust in his brain.

"You do not desire me," Spock replies, his tone cold as it ever was. "This was simply an attempt to avoid the loss of a wager."

His fumblings turn desperate, as one hand strokes the hair at the back of Spock's neck, the other curling around Spock's hip in supplication. "Please, Spock, that's not – " He stops when he gets a scathing, brittle look, and starts again. "Okay, that's how it started, but –"

And his hands aren't the only thing that's fumbling, as his tongue fails him. The scathing look turns full of so much sorrow for just a moment, breaking and bleeding around the edges, and the Vulcan should never look like that, before Spock takes a step back. He's pulling away, and Kirk knows if Spock leaves he'll never, ever get a chance like this again. The thought is too much to bear, and he can feel himself breaking even before the reality occurs.

"Spock!" he cries, reaching forward blindly to hold Spock to him. His other hand reaches for Spock's, tense at his side, and lifts it to his face. Spreads the Vulcan's fingers and presses them against his temple and cheek, in the formation he remembers from just moments before.

"Just, please – let me try," he whispers, his voice broken and desperate. "Give me just one chance to show you."

Spock freezes, skepticism plain on his face. But he doesn't back away any further, and after only the briefest hesitation his fingers steady on Kirk's face. A look of intense hope and longing flashes across the Vulcan's face, but Kirk barely has time to register it before Spock whispers the requisite phrase. And reality recedes, his focus drawn internally as another presence intrudes, his mind no longer solely his. Spock, all hard edges and precise angles flows into every piece of Kirk. Emotions that are not his, fearshamelovedesire try to carry him away as a twig in a stream. Fumbling in earnest now, Kirk tries to dredge up every pertinent memory and bring it to the fore, hoping against hope that Spock will see. The first time he laid eyes on Spock, the desire and interest that were his first reaction. The constant thread of each as they learned about each other, worked together, that he also tried to ignore. Even the time Sulu and he started this silly bet, what happened and how he'd felt – his dejection at knowing that Spock hated him, and would never consider even dating Kirk. What he felt, that night they touched, and every night and day after. Every ounce of desire, he projects as loudly as he can – the desire for all of Spock – his brilliant lightning-fast mind, his dry sense of humor, his touch like a brand and his body hard as steel.

A purr, out loud in the reality Kirk claws back to, his hands falling limp to his side as his knees give way once again. Spock catches him, captures him in his strong arms and lifts him, pressing him against the wall – shoulder holding him, pinning him as he'd dreamed as Spock nuzzles his neck, licking his throat and jaw and covering his lips with the bruising touch of his kisses.

"Mine," Spock purrs. "T'hy'la, mine – you have been, and always will be."

"Yes," Kirk gasps, the desire rushing back to the fore as he can feel Spock's answering need sparking through his skin – and rutting against his thigh.

Spock's hot mouth covers his, the kiss sultry and burning in its intensity. Any further thinking is rendered impossible as smoldering fingers undo the fly on his pants, slipping them down to free his cock. The cool air of the garden is a sharp contrast against those fingers, as they wrap around his flesh and pump with something akin to desperation.

He moans, his head tilting back as Spock's ministrations change their focus from his mouth to his neck. His collarbone is coated in licks and nips, as all the while the purring Vulcan brings him closer to the edge.

"Spock," he manages to get out in a moan, a warning that the Vulcan clearly hears – his hand on Kirk stills, holding him at the precipice with pressure at the base of his cock. A head butts against his, as the body caging him in shifts to allow just enough room.

"Turn around," a growled command that Kirk barely hears through the lust and need pouring through him. Panting, he turns – leans against the wall, shaky legs spread as far as the pants around his ankles will allow.

His cock is given several more pumps to send him further into a frenzy, as fingernails scratch teasingly at the inside of his thighs. Then the hand between his legs disappears for a moment, and he can hear Spock getting it ready. The sound of Spock's mouth, suckling on his fingers right next to Kirk's ear, makes him moan in desire – his cock leaking precum.

The sounds stop, and Spock transfers his attentions to the ear closest to his mouth – a hot tongue darts into the sensitive skin, licking and laving and nibbling and effectively turning Kirk into a trembling ball of need.

While he's distracted by Spock's mouth at his ear, a finger slides into him without warning. It burns without lube, making him gasp in pain. The Vulcan gives a trilling sound of apology, slowly working his hand in and out of Kirk while he nibbles delicately on the top of Kirk's shoulder. After several moments, a second finger joins the first and Kirk moans once more as he starts to relax into the motion.

"Mine," Spock whispers against his ear, as the Vulcan's fingers find his prostate and make him buck in surprise.

"Yes," is the only word Kirk can grasp, and it comes out a groan as the fingers slide out of him – leaving him feeling empty and frustrated. He whimpers, bucking back against Spock – rewarded with the slide of a bare cock against his crack.

Spock growls in pleasure, pumping several times ineffectually against Kirk before a hand interposes itself between their bodies, as Spock covers himself in his spit. Then a chest is covering his back, as he feels Spock's cock once again – pressing into his entrance. The pressure, the thick hardness makes him moan, half in pleasure and half in pain, as Spock slowly slides in until he's buried to the hilt.

A moment to breathe, as both men gasp in synch. Breath, so hot against Kirk's ear and cheek, as strong hands grasp his hips. It's all the warning he gets before two shallow pumps, slow enough for him to stretch and accommodate Spock's size before the Vulcan loses what little control he had left. Surprisingly sharp teeth dig into Kirk's shoulder, nearly breaking skin, as Spock pounds into him over and over again. Bracing himself against the wall, and the chest against his back, Kirk surrenders to the feel of Spock – surrounding him, inside him, everywhere. The desire and lust are a living thing burning through him, and only seem intensified by Spock's movements against him. He needs, he needs –

What he can't articulate, Spock can feel through the skin free of cloth for contact, and responds to even in his lust-filled haze. Long, supple fingers are around his cock again, pumping and squeezing in time with Spock's rhythm.

The Vulcan's expert fingers assure that Kirk won't be able to last long – but Spock capitulates first. A grunt that lengthens into a moan, as the form above him tenses. The fingers still on his hip squeeze, hard enough to leave bruises, as heat fills Kirk inside.

One more practiced twist of Spock's fingers around the head of Kirk's cock, and he follows after. He whimpers, crying Spock's name as his vision goes white and waves and waves of pleasure roll through his body.

Collapsing, his legs no longer functioning properly, he's supported by a strong arm wrapped around his waist. Kirk rests his head against the wall, panting as he tries to catch his breath. His neck is treated to a long, slow lick, which ends at the junction of ear and jaw. A nose nuzzles into the hollow presented there, and he can feel Spock's soft purr through the chest still pressed against his back.

Reaching up behind him, Kirk buries a hand in Spock's hair and enjoys the moment as he comes back to himself. Then the breeze cooling the sweat on his legs and forehead reminds him of where they are, and he grunts. The Tenbu, the feast, and duties.

Kirk turns slightly in Spock's arms, so he can capture the Vulcan's lips in one last lingering kiss. He's rewarded by one more purr, before Spock releases him and backs away. Sighing, Kirk bends to retrieve his pants, looking down so he can focus on refastening the clasps.

When he looks back up, his brain stutters – the Vulcan is already put back together, and is intent on licking every last drop of cum off his fingers with long, lazy strokes of his tongue. He groans as he grasps Spock's other hand, unable to look away from the motions of Spock's tongue.

"Later, you're going to have to show me what other uses you have for that talented tongue of yours," he murmurs, his voice still low and intimate in the dark.

"It will be my pleasure, t'hy'la."

He can see the smile lurking in the Vulcan's eyes, as Spock allows himself to be led back to the lights and the other people. He'll also have to discover what, exactly, that word means.


It's months later, and the Enterprise has arrived back at Earth at the conclusion of yet another mission. All the officers flew down in the first shuttle, laughing and joking with one another. There is shore leave ahead, some freedom where they can be themselves and relax for a while.

The first to leave the shuttle, as always, Kirk walks side by side with his First. He blinks as he enters the sunlight, his eyes unaccustomed after so many weeks trapped in the ship and its artificial lights. He's comfortable, and complete, for the first time in his life – because even though there's no obvious sign that Spock and he are one, Starfleet has been informed and all proper documentation completed months ago.

He can hear Sulu and Chekov behind them, the low murmurs meaning the two are exchanging whispers once again. He's certain that, now that they're public, the two are holding hands; they still haven't gotten over the novelty of it. And as he walks, a hot shoulder is touching his –two fingers brush against his, fingertips meeting for a secret moment, shared just between the two of them.

Glancing at Spock, undeniable warmth in his chest at the contact, Kirk smiles. And he tries to make his eyes tell Spock the words he's been whispering ever since that night – to you, I belong.