Aaaand, PLUS ONE!!! *bounces* I'm slightly sick, same as before and my brain's been fried thanks to the fever, so expect a difference. Imagine that. A brain-pancake. I'd try that. Maybe it'd make me smarter!

I'll admit it's the first time I'm writing about KS marriage but there's a first time for everything, right? Right?

Here's my warning to everyone. Every chapter so far had been one-sided slash, or pre-slash. Here there be SLASH. Yaoi, Shounen Ai, Man-on-Man, boy-love, Man-Sex, Gay-Love, Homosexuality, whatever the fuck you want to call it. If you have a problem with it, I sincerely suggest you leave, and don't say I didn't warn you.

Also, there be lemons implied here, perhaps a fade-to-black. If you don't like it turn around and WALK AWAY. P.S. The rating's gone up to M, cuz I don't want people to sue.

.~*Plus One*~.

Their wedding was supposed to be small and elegant, and only those closest to them had been invited. The key operative was 'supposed'. But they were Captain Kirk and Commander Spock, even when they were trying to be just Jim and Spock, and a whole bunch of people who hadn't been invited had turned up, and couldn't easily be turned down because of their positions.

Admiral Archer, Admiral Nogura and a few other Captains, as well as diplomats from other planets had gate-crashed, assuming they would be let in. And they were. Of course, they brought with them their entourages and free-loading press hounds, and then raving fan-girls who didn't seem deterred by the fact that Jim was, in fact, marrying a guy. What was supposed to be a small and unassuming wedding had rapidly grown in magnitude into a giant, grand wedding with close to a thousand people, crammed into the space meant for two hundred. It was really crowded.

This was perfectly acceptable, until after the vows. Spock still had an illogical desire to 'shout from the rooftops' (a phrase McCoy had taught him for this purpose alone) that he and he alone would have Jim Kirk for all eternity. Granted, that humans and their fragile (read: flimsy) wedding arrangements were highly scandalous by Vulcan standards, but he was sure (yes, he was) that he and Jim would remain together till Jim's dying day, and then too they would not be apart for long.

However, after the vows the dancing began, and Spock had a very strong desire to dance with Jim, after having been denied this pleasure countless times in the past sue to various reasons. But this was proving harder than expected. There were many people who wished to dance with Jim and Spock, to talk with them and pass them their best wishes.

Initially Spock reminded himself to let alone, because Jim was, after all, marrying him, but after Nyota and Christine and Janice and Number One and his brothers' wife, Aurelan, danced with him, he was swarmed by extremely attractive women from the press. They were exactly what McCoy had termed, 'Jims' type', with shoulder-length blonde locks and spectacles, which, Spock was told (by the Doctor), implied an unbeatable combination of beauty and brains, figures which would have made lesser men soften and skirts that left enough to the imagination, which Jim found attractive. Spock knew this from much experimentation and experience.

And yet, watching them swarm him and the flicker of amusement that might just have been a feeling of being flattered from Jims' mind sent an insensible shot of pure rage through Spocks' system. Who were they to challenge his claim to Jim? They who knew Jim through interviews and pictures and stories and legends, to challenge him, who knew Jims' everything? How dare they try to tempt Jim to look elsewhere, when he was what Jim wanted? When all he wanted was Jims' happiness and they; reflections of his glory?

But then he realised that he was being possessive, and illogically so, and he should stop. Jim was getting married to him, Spock, so he didn't let himself continue thinking the thoughts that would have plagued him before. Where 'before' referred to a darker time in Spocks past, of which Jim was not a major part.

Then he settled down, determined to notthink, and watched as Jim gracefully turned down requests for dances from the aforementioned beautiful women. Spock allowed himself to feel illogical pride, and illogical joy.

But then the 'fleet assigned publicist approached Jim and whispered in his ear for a few solid minutes, and Jim sighed and held out his hand to the lady reporter closest to him. She accepted with a smile that metaphorically dazzled Spock, but Jim did not look interested, a fact in which Spock took more pleasure than he should have.

After half-an-hour of watching Jim dance with females who tried to constantly touch him in inappropriate manners, Spock was approached by Christine who asked him to dance, and since he had nothing better to do and it would be a more productive use of his nervous energy than sitting there and staring at Jim, he accepted. He had a feeling that she knew this, and that the women of the Enterprise were on a mission to prevent him for nerve-pinching the molesting females and then getting himself incarcerated, and unable to enjoy his 'wedding night'.

Speaking of which, he had never really understood what was the big deal about a 'wedding night'. When Nyota mentioned it and explained, he told her that he had already had (enjoyed) intercourse with Jim, rendering the archaic term useless. She had giggled and blushed, then told him he was divulging too much information.

He was reasonably sure he would never understand any human, except for Jim.

The clock said it was 0010 hours, local time, and Jim was backing out of the dances, feigning exhaustion. Spock could tell he was still energetic, through the bond, and sent a feeling of relief. Jim flashed a knowing grin at him, and made his excuses fast. They bid farewell to their friends, ignored some inappropriate jokes and left.

In the short walk to the transporter in the open night, Jim heaved a sigh of content and offered his hand, which Spock took without second thought. The stars twinkled in the sky above them, the moon invisible. He didn't have to say anything; Spock knew.

"Shall we go home?" Jim asked, voice tender like his eyes.

Spock inclined his head. "I will follow you, t'hy'la."

And they both understood what the other actually meant, and Spock thought his heart could burst with joy because he'd never thought he'd ever find someone who completed him like this, especially because he was different from Humans and different from Vulcans and there was no one like him. But Jim still managed to understand him, perhaps better than he understood himself. And Spock would never tire of the feeling that he was secure and wanted, no matter what.

He would always, unconsciously, compare it to the times when he had been left aside, watching. But he wouldn't think of that now.

The trip back to their now-shared quarters was short, and quiet. The door slid shut with a quiet swoosh and Jim locked it with a word.

"I do not think that you would need to lock the door. No one will interrupt if their jokes were to be taken seriously." Jim grinned as he pulled his socks off and chucked them in a corner. The room was almost comic, one side ridiculously neat and the other disorganized to an extreme.

"I profess, t'hy'la, I have a desire to dance with you." Jim looked up at him, eyes suspiciously moist. Spock felt the need to explain. "I know you are proficient at dancing; I have watched you and have longed to be your partner from a distance for many years."

Jim crossed the room in two steps and tiptoed to kiss Spock soundly (he'd never admit it), then whispered, "Stalking me, were you?" his tone was teasing, hidden laughter, even deeper; intensity.

"Not so much a stalker as a secret admirer, Jim." Spock felt no shame in speaking openly, especially since he and Jim had become lovers.

Then Jim did something that surprised him; he slid from Spock's hands and started his computer, and quickly opened up a folder and double-clicked an icon. He made his way back to Spock, smiling sweetly in a way that affected Spock's heart-rate, and guided Spock's hands to his left shoulder and right hip. He put his own cool hands around Spock's waist, and then the music began. Spock didn't take more than a second to register, and when he did, he kissed Jim on his closed eyelids, bending just a little.

It was a quiet song, something Spock had never heard before. It was a typical Jim song, non-mainstream and peaceful; piano chords and maybe a violin. "You will have to lead me. I do not know—"

Jim put a finger on Spocks' lips and smiled, before taking a step forward and making Spock take a step backwards. Then he took a step to the left and after that Spock didn't bother following, because Jim was guiding him with gentle pressure on his hips and taking them around the room and he was dancing! His feet followed the rhythm easily because of the memory of dancing from Jims' mind, and what was muscle memory for Jim was almost the same for Spock.

He was dancing with Jim and he had never felt more content, never quite as happy. Jim rested his head on Spock's chest and he realised Jim was no longer leading and they were still dancing and he could have laughed with joy. He had never acknowledged before this, how deep seated the desire to dance with Jim actually was. Jim glanced at Spock's face and the smile that graced his face made Jim laugh.

"If I'd known it would make you so happy, I'd do this everyday, love."

"Jim you don't need to do anything to make me this happy. Simply being there does the same."

"Then you'll be happy forever, because I'll be with you for that long."

Spock kissed Jim in response, overwhelmed by a tide of sweet emotions, standing there in the middle of their room, Jim's tie undone, shoeless, jacket abandoned and hair mussed, no longer taking steps but gently swaying on the spot, and thought he could drown and never be sad again.

The kiss turned urgent and before long all their clothing lay in a tangled pile where Jim had tried to pull everything off at once and Spock had pinned his wrists to Jim's body and done it himself without choking anyone.

Spock didn't want to stop kissing Jim, didn't want that sweet taste to reduce under any circumstance, didn't want to not feel Jim's muscles beneath him, hot and slick.

Their love-making was sweet and slow, friction making them crazy with expanses of familiar skin and the wonderful pressure of another body on their own, with no rush or impatience, tempered to a sharp agony before they both came and fell asleep.

When Spock awoke, Jim was watching him, fingers carding his soft black hair. He kissed Jims still-swollen lips. "Love you Spock."

"I love you too, Jim. Thank you for dancing with me."

"Any time, love."

*~*~*

It's been a great ride guys. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

It's been forEVER since my last update, and my style has changed a bit since then, so again this might not be in sync with the other 'en lair' pieces, but. Oh well. I hope the idea came across. :D REVIEW!!! Shit. My battery is dying. REVIEW anyway!

Loads of Love,

Lady Merlin

I love it when you use my name