Chapter rating: M. Really M.

Everyone breathed a little easier when the Enterprise finally limped out of the pulsar's immediate range a few hours later. The whole ship let out a collective sigh of relief, and there was a tacit agreement that no one had to report for duty, at least for a few hours. Only Scotty kept busy with his team of engineering disciples. Much of the ship's scientific equipment needed repairs after that amount of exposure to charged particles, and the crew had to take anti-radiation meds as an added precaution, but all in all, Jim called it a success.

Spock placed a hand on Jim's shoulder as Jim sat at his desk, fresh from a sonic and writing up the last few lines of the official incident report. This time, in the privacy of the captain's quarters, he had no reason to pull away.

More than a success. A phenomenal success.

"There is much I wish to tell you," Spock said.

"Go ahead, please." Jim shut off his console and swung his chair around to gaze up at Spock. "There's a lot I'd like to know."

He waited as Spock assembled his thoughts, thankful for the opportunity to drink in the rare sight of a Vulcan coming to grips with his emotions. Half of him expected to wake up soon, alone in his bed. The other half was floating somewhere beyond Antares.

"I burned for you, during my Time," Spock murmured at last, and just hearing those words made Jim burn too. He reached out to touch Spock's wrist, to encourage him to go on. "When T'Pring rejected me, I wished to go to you in my madness. T'Pau would not permit it, and so I entered the plak tow. It was only for a moment, but Jim… I have never known such a feeling. I was too lost to fear it. Too lost for shame. I… I have no words."

All this time, Spock not only knew how he felt, but returned his feelings. All this time Jim had been holding back, pushing away, sleeping around, agonizing over the best way to make his love invisible. "Spock," he said, voice hoarse, "why didn't you say anything?"

"I almost did." Spock looked away.

"When?"

"When I discovered you were alive." Of course, Jim thought, as that uninhibited smile glowed in his mind's eye. He ached now to think that he hadn't seized the moment, ignored McCoy and Chapel and done something very unprofessional. "But the residual effects of pon farr passed," Spock continued. "My logic returned in full, and with it my ability to regulate my emotions. That is what I proceeded to do."

"For so long. What changed?"

"I melded with you during the Melkotian incident. I sensed the nature of your affection." Spock turned, stepping away from Jim and hiding his face from view. "After a great deal of thought, and several correspondences with my mother, I concluded that I should pursue the matter." Jim decided that the next time he saw Lady Amanda, he would catch her in a bear hug, cultural propriety be damned.

"So then, Mr. Spock." He pushed himself out of his chair and circled Spock to stand before him. "What course of action do you recommend at this point?"

Spock raised an eyebrow, although he kept his gaze shyly focused anywhere but Jim. "I was under the impression that sexual intercourse is customary at this juncture."

Jim hadn't expected Spock to be so forward, and that kind of clinical language really, really should not have made him shiver the way it did. He wanted nothing better than to grab Spock and drag them both to the floor that exact second, but his sense of chivalry had other ideas. "If you want to think about it for awhile, that's fine."

"That won't be necessary," Spock said. "The prospect has occupied my thoughts for some time."

With that, Jim decided they had better do something before Spock talked him into embarrassing himself. He moved closer so he was nearly pressed flush against Spock, and ran his hands up and down Spock's arms, glad for the undershirt's short sleeves. "Just 'some' time? No days, hours, seconds?" He murmured, and lifted his eyes with a teasing grin. "Spock, you're slipping."

The tendons in Spock's neck shifted as he swallowed, and Jim barely kept himself from leaning in and kissing those delicate flutters of movement. "I merely find you difficult to quantify."

"Why, you silver-tongued devil." Jim allowed one of his hands skim higher, come to rest along the side of Spock's face. "You want to set the pace, or should I?"

Spock tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. "Explain."

"Never mind. Let's just take it slow."

Jim backed away from Spock and sauntered toward the room divider. He wasn't sure he would make it to bed without his knees giving out or his heart detonating somewhere along the way, but fate was on his side tonight. He sat on the edge to kick off his boots, and watched as Spock approached him, his movements timid as he paused by the divider to remove his own boots. Jim reached out to take his hands and draw him down.

They situated themselves gracelessly, side by side on the narrow mattress, propped up against the wall. The lack of space encouraged closeness, but before Jim could settle into a comfortable position, he was struck by a whim.

"Hold on a minute." He reached over Spock for the console beside the bed and switched to a live feed of the main viewer, PSR C50312 still within their sights, stunning to behold. Spock gave him a pointed look. "Permit me my romanticism. God knows I've put up with enough of yours recently." He tucked an arm behind Spock's back and draped the other over his waist, nestling into the space between Spock's neck and shoulder.

Spock moved to accommodate him. "My 'romanticism' was merely a logical adherence to human customs for the benefit of–"

Jim took Spock's face in his hands and kissed him as tenderly as he could. He kept it deliberate, thorough, intent on committing every detail to memory; the softness of Spock's lips, the coolness of his skin, the way he relaxed by degrees under Jim's fingers. It was awkward at first, obvious that Spock was over thinking every minute action, but Jim persevered, murmuring encouragements and teaching by example. Unsurprisingly, Spock was a fast learner, and soon he let his mouth open to Jim, reached up to touch his arms and face, even bit gently at his lips.

Jim poured everything he had into the kiss, and decided to up the ante, feeling as jittery as a teenager on his first trip to makeout lane. He shifted his position a little and put a hand on each of Spock's knees, parting Spock's legs to slip between them, move that much closer. The space between their bodies, however miniscule, was getting harder to stand with every passing second. He pushed a hand beneath the black undershirt, and his other hand went to the nape of Spock's neck to pull him back into a kiss.

Spock returned the gesture now with artless abandon, his hands kneading into Jim's back, clutching at his bathrobe. Jim moved his mouth to Spock's neck, sucking and nipping, tasting the bitter spice of his skin. "Arms up," he breathed into a Vulcan ear and pressed a quick kiss to the pointed tip.

For whatever reason, it was this tiny action that undid him. He was so acclimated to the weight of that particular unfulfilled desire that casting it off struck him with vertigo. He was clumsy as he helped Spock out of his shirt, and soon after he had to stop, bracing himself against Spock and shutting his eyes.

"Jim?"

"I'm okay. Just give me a minute." His hands dropped from Spock's shoulders to slide down his chest, over soft dark hair and flat planes of muscle, coming to rest on top of strong thighs. Real, he thought. This is real. He grounded himself with denial for years, and now he had to find a different anchor. Yet he faltered at the thought of that anchor being another person, no matter who it was, no matter how much they meant to him.

Fingers tentatively caressed his knuckles, the backs of his hands, like raindrops to kiss away a summer heat wave, to draw him out of himself. Vulcan hands were sensitive, Jim recalled, either from an anatomy class or a seedy bar discussion. Sure enough, Spock's breath hitched as he skimmed Jim's hands with his own, back and forth, painting away the lingering uncertainty.

Jim laced their fingers together, one by one, and Spock moaned and bucked his hips. Jim seized his opportunity, kissing Spock in both the human and Vulcan ways, sliding his tongue into Spock's mouth when he moaned again.

They grew bold together, their actions smoother and faster and more spontaneous. Spock pushed the robe down Jim's shoulders unprompted, kissing each new centimeter of exposed skin. Jim was disappointed to discover that Spock's nipples, although dark and inviting, had very little feeling, but Spock knew how to take a hint. Nails gently grazed over his own soon after, and Jim gasped and arched into the touch. Spock introduced him to chensei, two hidden glands low in his back that made him writhe when Jim kneaded them. But what interested Jim the most was the bulge of Spock's erection, tenting the front of his pants.

He palmed Spock through the layers of fabric and got a very positive reaction. It was hard to tell through the cloth, but it certainly didn't feel like anything he had run into before. He hooked his fingers in the waist of Starfleet issue pants and briefs. This was it. The moment of truth.

It turned out that Spock's penis was like four cords coiled tightly together, about the same size as a human's, but with a slight taper toward the tip and lacking a glans. He didn't have balls either; Jim had suspected as much ever since a particularly brutal fight on a planet of waist-high aliens, from which Spock had emerged better off than the rest of them. He wondered idly if Spock was still sensitive where they would be, but there was plenty of time for that later. Right now he would stick with the obvious.

He closed his hand around the grooved, green-tinted flesh and gave it slow stroke from base to tip. He watched, enthralled, as Spock's eyes fluttered closed, and his hips lifted, and a small noise escaped his throat. Clearly a test that required replication. Jim got in at least a dozen trials before Spock fought and won an epic battle with the knot that held Jim's robe together. He stripped the robe off Jim and tossed it aside, a proud gleam in his eyes.

After all, despite his inexperience, Spock was far from a passive agent. As they went along, in fact, he had become more and more aggressive. Jim should have seen it coming when he tried to pin Spock's hands on a whim.

A firm grip on his arms, a sudden, disorienting flip, and Jim found himself sprawled out on his back. Spock hovered over him, propped up on his elbows and sporting a wry expression, the weight of his body pressing Jim into the mattress. Jim laughed as he struggled half-heartedly against the Vulcan's hold. They grappled for a minute, something sweetly exciting about the contest of strength, however unfairly matched.

It was especially hard to fight back when every movement involved the distraction press of their erections against bare skin. Spock in particular seemed to orient himself so that he always had a thigh situated against Jim's groin.

Well, two could play at that game. Jim linked his leg around the back of Spock's knee and arched himself up, rutting against Spock with a growl. Spock wavered just enough for Jim to push him off and gain the upper hand.

As he heaved himself on top of Spock, however, his momentum carried him a little too far.

"Ow! Goddammit!"

"Jim, are you all right?" Spock clamored off the bed and knelt at his side in an instant, placing a hand on his shoulder.

His head was ringing with the echoes of a dull thud. "Yes." He gave his fingers and toes an experimental wiggle, his back throbbing where he had hit the floor. "Maybe."

"Do you require assistance?"

"What I require is a king-sized bed."

"A king-sized bed would take up the entire sleeping niche." Spock observed, and Jim gave him a deadly look. "Regardless, I will speak to the quartermaster tomorrow."

He helped Jim back into bed, prodding him for a minute or so with far more medical than sexual intent. Jim glanced down at his erection, which had flagged considerably during his little accident, the coward. "Well, that's no good," he murmured.

"I believe I can remedy the situation." Spock pulled Jim against him so they were back to chest, and held him there with one arm. He reached around Jim's waist to stroke him at an excruciatingly slow pace, framing Jim with his limbs. Clever fingers worked out Jim's most sensitive spots, and in no time at all, he was thrusting into Spock's tight grasp, fully recovered and then some.

"Is my technique satisfactory?"

"First-rate." Jim gasped. So good he wasn't going to last much longer if Spock kept it up. He shooed Spock's hand away and twisted around in the fence of his legs to take hold of both their cocks, caressing them together. He flushed as the hardness and heat of Spock's erection slid against his own so intimately, the difference in texture enhancing the pleasure. He wondered what that twisting surface might feel like inside him.

Apparently, Spock had his own ideas about that. He was the one who ended their brief frot and guided Jim to lay face-up. Jim was all set to put his gym hours to good use and hitch his legs over strong Vulcan shoulders, but Spock straddled his lap instead.

"Oh my God." Jim threw an arm over his face, then peeked out from beneath it. "Spock, hold on, are you sure–"

"I am," Spock said, reaching behind himself to take Jim's erection in hand, although he looked somewhat daunted by what he was about to attempt.

"Wait. Wait a minute. Let me… you can't just…" Jim scooted out from beneath Spock and sit up against the pillows. He grabbed Spock's chin to drag him in for a quick, sloppy kiss, then he tore open one of his bedside drawers and started fumbling for lubricant. Finally he found the bottle, and managed to snatch it up before it skittered off his fingertips.

Spock gave him a sheepish look. "Isn't your natural lubrication sufficient?"

"Maybe, if you've done this before. But you haven't done this before, have you?"

"Affirmative." Spock turned a very interesting shade of olive. "Unless self-stimulation applies," he added, and Jim had to consciously think about the salt monster and the ghostly hags from Sylvia's planet to keep from getting overexcited at that gem of a revelation.

"Not quite the same thing." He managed weakly, when he had some semblance of control back. "Better safe than sorry." He snapped the bottle's top and poured some into his palm. "Okay. Hands and knees."

"But Jim, I… I wish to… this configuration is intriguing, and…"

It took Jim a good five seconds to figure out what Spock was trying to say. He bit back a snicker and traced his clean hand along Spock's ribs. "All right. We'll do it your way." He shifted to a more comfortable sitting position and reeled Spock in with an arm around his waist to plant a kiss on his solar plexus. "Spread your legs a little more for me. Not enough. A little more." He laughed when Spock persistently interpreted 'a little' as almost nothing. "About ten centimeters on each side, Mr. Spock. Should I make it an order?"

Jim could actually feel the pulse of heat that flickered across Spock's skin. "That won't be necessary," Spock murmured, and shifted on his knees to widen his stance.

He clutched Jim against his chest as Jim worked him open. He was wonderfully responsive, burying his face and tangling his hands into Jim's hair, molding himself around Jim's fingers without the slightest complaint or hint of resistance. He didn't seem to have a prostate, but there was definitely something going on when Jim crooked his fingers in around the same area.

"I'm curious," Jim said, almost breathless with desire as he introduced a third finger. "Any particular reason you want to be on top?"

"I have dreamed about such a scenario."

"You're kidding." Jim couldn't believe he had company in that department.

"I am not. You… you were telling me that you enjoyed it. In the dream."

"What did I say?"

"I cannot remember."

"I bet I know." Jim rubbed a thumb over Spock's hip as he withdrew his fingers, only to push them back inside a moment later, stretching the tight opening. Spock groaned and swayed a little, leaning into the press of Jim's fingers. "Probably said that I like being able to see you. To watch your face when you take it." He repeated his previous technique, this time reaching deeper than before. "And God, you just take it so easy, don't you?"

"Jim… please," Spock panted somewhere above his ear.

"You're ready?" Spock was ready by anyone's standards, and had been for awhile, but Jim wanted to hear him say it.

"Yes." Spock groaned. Without another word he shifted back, lined himself up, and started to sink down, encasing Jim in his body.

Jim gasped and rested his hands on Spock's waist, trying to make him slow down, but his muscles were weak with pleasure. "Don't push yourself."

Spock shut his eyes. "I am not." He bottomed out a second later, and Jim moaned, pistoning up to meet him. "Oh Jim, I… ah!" He drew his lower lip between his teeth and fell both very silent and very still.

"Are you ok?"

Spock let out the breath he had been holding. "I am… unused to the sensation."

"I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No," Spock said quickly. "No, it is merely… intense."

The sound of that last word as it passed through Spock's lips was a rapture in and of itself. Intense was a serious understatement. It had to be Spock's superior Vulcan control, because he was tighter around Jim than he had been right after the effortless entry, and Jim was drifting in a delerium of bliss.

Spock fixed his hands to the top of his thighs for leverage when he began to move, and Jim wove their fingers together again as he watched Spock; the slow ripple of his muscles beneath his skin, the dark green tint of his lips and nipples and cock, but most of all, the fleeting shadows of his expressions. Jim had seen things beyond any human's comprehension, but nothing could compare to Spock's face contorted in ecstasy.

Very close now, Jim freed one of his hands to grasp Spock's erection. Spock pushed Jim's hand away, shaking his head. "Too much," he gasped. "I cannot…"

"Then don't." Jim took hold of Spock again, stroked him once, rubbed his thumb over the tip.

Spock's hips canted up of their own accord, heedless of the rhythm they had been setting until then. Jim watched in awe as his eyes widened for a fraction of a second, rolled up to the ceiling, and closed, as his chin tilted back and his mouth fell open. His short, sharp cries sounded like equal parts surprise and ecstasy. He rocked down against Jim desperately, and his body clenched in long, tight pulses as he came.

Jim focused, concentrated, clung to that sensation as it ebbed and flowed like the sea until he waded out far enough to be knocked flat by a wave. The rush of pleasure hit him square in the gut, constricted his every muscle, clasped around his throat so he couldn't breathe. Then he was cast up onto the shore, gasping for air between broken moans, his helpless body shaken by the tide.

When Jim regained some measure of awareness, he surfaced to find Spock curled into him, face tucked against his chest, shuddering and moaning softly with aftershocks. Jim cracked a fatigued smile at the ceiling and stroked his palm up and down Spock's back. "Deep breaths," he murmured.

On the inhale, Spock went completely still. On the exhale, Spock melted against him, and Jim thought that was just about the best thing in the world. He kissed the top of Spock's head and wished he could reach an ear too without moving, because moving was definitely not in his current repertoire of abilities.

They lay in silence for awhile, cooling down and catching their breath. Spock draped a hand over Jim's, brushing their fingers together, gentle and lazy.

After some time, Jim thought he could manage another syllable. "Good?"

The amusement in Spock's voice was a faint but definite undercurrent. "Yes."

A little more time passed in sated silence, and Jim could feel himself starting to drift off, wrapped in the warmth that was Spock. When they had started, he could distinctly recall how cool Spock's skin was, but now he radiated heat, and it made Jim sleepy. With a tremendous amount of effort, he forced himself out of bed to get a damp washcloth, knowing he'd regret it in the morning if he didn't take care of cleaning them up now. Spock writhing like a certain saint beneath the brush of the cold, wet cloth was an unexpected bonus.

Necessary tasks completed, he slipped back into bed and tucked himself around Spock. "I suppose it would be irresponsible for the captain and first officer to take a week of shore leave in the middle of uncharted territory."

"Quite," Spock said. "Although there is no regulation about synchronizing our schedules for corresponding off-duty times."

"I guess we'll just have to settle, then."

Spock was quiet for a moment. "Using the mind meld, it is possible to skew one's perception of time."

And damn if Jim hadn't forgotten all about that in the heat of the moment. There was only so much he could think about at once, and his first glimpses of a nude Spock had occupied about ninety-nine percent of his brainpower. "Something to look forward to, then."

"By my estimation, there are many things to look forward to."

They were both ten minutes late to morning shift the next day, due to Spock's insistence that sharing a sonic would be more efficient. To put it mildly, his hypothesis proved incorrect, and the exact timing of mind-melds was trickier than he thought. It was only after they both arrived for duty at the same time that Jim realized they should have staggered their entrances, or come up with a good excuse, or something. The look McCoy gave them was suspicious, and Uhura's was blatantly scandalous.

"There's two messages for you, sir." She said as Jim passed her chair, feeling distinctly self-conscious.

"From who, Lieutenant?"

"I couldn't say. They just appeared in the com banks. No direction, no carrier wave, no subspace signature." She shrugged, and handed him a PADD.

Jim called them up as he strode down to the lower level, Spock and McCoy joining him to peer over his shoulders.

Greetings and felicitations, my dear crew of the Enterprise!

I hope this letter finds you all well! I must say, Captain, you confounded me for the better part of an Earth decade with that trick of yours (please, don't hurt yourself trying to understand the time paradox)! I simply had to escape, you see; there was a quantum fluctuation developing in the Delta quadrant, and anyone worth his photons was going to be there!

But I learned a great deal in the process, and so I offer you knowledge in return! I thought you might like to know, the man who invented the modern heart symbol was a monk in medieval Italy! He saw a depiction of a Silphium seed on an ancient coin, and decided it bore a miraculous resemblance to a local peasant woman's buttocks and bosom! Enclosed in this message, please find other significant corrections to the history of your preposterous holiday!

I must be off, and so I conclude this most inefficient method of communication! From this point forward, I shall honor our agreement, Captain, one gentleman to another!

Cheerio!

Sir Trelane the Magnificent, esq.!

PS: My dear Captain, although I cannot begin to understand your taste, I wish you the very best!

Silence as the three men absorbed this message together. More silence as they re-read to dispel their doubts. Jim was about to open the attachment, but decided against it, at least for now.

"He appears have misunderstood the concept of the exclamation point," Spock finally observed.

"No, he just writes like he talks," McCoy snorted, and shook his head. "What's the second message, Jim?"

DEAR SIR AND/OR MADAME AND/OR OTHER,

THE CONTINUUM WISHES TO EXPRESS ITS GRATITUDE FOR YOUR LOOKING AFTER THE Q KNOWN AS TRELANE. Q TOLD US HE WOULD BE AT THE WHIRLPOOL GALAXY WITH Q, AND Q SAID HE WOULD BE AT THE ANDROMEDA GALAXY WITH Q, AND BOTH Q WENT ELSEWHERE INSTEAD. WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE AND/OR LOSS OF LIFE THAT ACCOMPANIED THIS INCIDENT. YOUR LESSER, HIGHLY FRAGILE SPECIES WILL NOT BE INTERFERED WITH AGAIN.*

INCORPOREALLY YOURS,

Q

*MOST LIKELY.

"Q? The continuum?" Jim frowned, tempted for the umpteenth time in three days to pinch himself to make sure he was awake. "What on earth…" Spock tilted his head back and lifted his eyebrows in the Vulcan version of a shrug.

"Well I'll be," McCoy said, and started laughing. "A classic round robin. He's not a child at all. He's a teenager."

"I don't suppose there's a return address," Jim said hopefully, scanning the letters once more.

"That does not appear to be the case."

"Pity." Jim shifted his weight to lean the tiniest bit closer to Spock. "I would have liked to send a thank-you note."

"Or perhaps a Valentine's Day card," Spock said lightly.

McCoy pivoted to face them, one slow step at a time, and gave them each a careful look, as if to ask if they needed their heads examined. But he must have missed his coffee this morning, because he just squinted at them for a long moment before heading for the turbolift, shaking his head. He might figure it out later – hell, it was inevitable – but for now it was their little secret.

There was the soft brush of two fingers against his palm, and by the time Jim turned back around, Spock was halfway to the science station. Where, Jim knew, he would remain bent over his scanner just so for the next several hours.

Jim didn't even bother concealing his insane grin as he settled into his chair. Out of all the surprises the universe had offered him, this was his favorite.

A/N: Holy gorn... I just... wow. I can't even. I had no idea this would become my first major attempt at a plot, but it turns out campy, one-off TOS characters are way too much fun to write! I hope you enjoyed - I'm off to go recover from sleep deprivation, thanks to this thing.