So this could be read as a sort of 'companion' piece to The Cold in that they share the same theme, but the stories are unrelated.

Also this one is M ;)

Dorky and Tally, you've been waiting for ages, so this is for you my bbs!

The Hot – by TheProblematique

Jim felt warm. Warm felt great.

He held the warmth close, his sleeping brain registering soft surroundings that… breathed. The warmth was alive! How awesome! Jim snuggled deeper into it, thinking with relish (but also a bit of sleep-induced drowsiness) that being engulfed in one perfect fluffy feeling of warmth and coziness and huggable softness with edges was the best. Thing. Ever.

Wait… edges?

Yes, the soft warmth had edges, but they felt nice too, so Jim decided not to question them. Because he could totally spend his lifetime loving this and not waking fully. Because the sweetness was melting his brain into a puddle of pleasure.

Oh. The pleasure was changing the warmth, now. It was more… aware. More like maybe Jim really did want to wake up.

He tried to tug it even closer, bringing the warmth so close that maybe it would fuse with him and not just be around him. Maybe it could melt into him, be one with him, and he would keep it inside and carry it with him always, this perfect feeling. Yes, he smiled happily with his eyes still closed, thinking he'd like that very much.

But when he tried to eat it with his arms and his body, the as of yet unidentified and unknown source of warmth gave a tiny little gasp, so low Jim barely heard it, except that he did.

"Jim."

Suddenly the softness with edges had a voice! The voice was clinical and detached but very, very soft. Jim's brain associated it with a few stray words like want and forbidden, infuriating and challenge, intelligence and funny… and fascinating ears (for some weird reason).

And now Jim really wanted to be awake, because the voice was intoxicatingly mesmerising, and he wanted to hear it properly and it pulled him away from the fuzzy place where he was sleeping, it drew him into its cadences and sounds and all this from one word, his name.

Jim opened his eyes.

Spock's lips were the first thing he saw, and he blinked a couple of times just to make sure he was actually seeing them, and not just wishing he was so badly that his addled mind was playing tricks on him. But there was something real and very much there about Spock's lips.

Jim wondered whether the rest of Spock was also there, so he checked just in case, because he loved watching, oh, he remembered now, how he loved observing Spock when he thought Spock wouldn't notice, how he loved all of Spock, Spock's body and his mind… and the body was clearly there, but how to check that Spock's mind was, too?

"I want to see all of you…" he started to say, watching his own fingers trail Spock's lips and unable to stop them. He felt a hunger deep inside himself, clawing itself into his consciousness and tearing his drowsiness apart with a jolt, and finally, finally he woke.

Properly, that is.

"Oh."

Had he just said that to Spock? Not only was it cheesy as hell, but… to Spock? Seriously? Jim blinked furiously and pulled back a little, to try and gain more perspective (because only seeing Spock's lips wasn't good for perspective, at all).

He was in a hospital. Well, sickbay, to be precise. It was impossible to confuse that smell, even though it seemed like he and Spock were in one of the private rooms.

And Spock was lying in a bed with him. An individual bed. With him, James T. Kirk.

Did he mention how it was an individual bed?

"Oh God, please, forget I just said that," he muttered, feeling his face heat up and looking around, anywhere but at Spock, who was wrapped around Jim like so much Christmas paper, legs entangled, arms firmly encasing Jim's body, whose head was nuzzled in Spock's neck (well, not anymore, but it had been, and it felt a little as though it still was, which was troubling).

"Jim, I cannot choose to forget concepts at will."

"Okay, I just meant… um, I'm confused?" He croaked, gingerly raising his eyebrows in the hope of prompting an explanation by looking into Spock's deep, dark gaze and thinking (very illogically) that he could probably count the number of eyelashes framing those amazing eyes.

"Besides your emotional state, are you physically recuperated?" Spock asked, ignoring Jim's unspoken question. His tone was perhaps slightly tinged with worry, but before Jim's brain registered the words, his body registered the vibration of Spock's voice against his chest, like a low purr.

So… yeah, that was happening.

"I… think so."

"Excellent." The tightness around Spock's eyes and shoulders loosened slightly, and Jim realised with some surprise that it was in relief that he was okay, and he was then rather unreasonably pleased that he could still tell what Spock was feeling no matter how much his first officer wanted to hide it.

Then with a jolt Jim noticed a glistening emerald bite-mark on Spock's jaw.

"Fuck me," he breathed in horror.

Spock's jaw dropped, his mouth forming an incredulous 'o.'

Jim burst out laughing.

"I mean... I mean I'm sorry I bit you!" He gasped, wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye; he'd never seen his first officer express such emotion (or in such a hilarious way) before.

"You were asleep at the time," Spock said finally, leaning back but with suspicion in his eyes.

"Still, I swear I didn't mean to." Jim grinned.

But then Spock started getting up, and away from Jim. No! The warmth was so good and Jim wanted Spock to stay, and it was involuntary and reflexive, but for about a second Jim's arms tightened around his first officer, not letting him go, like an impulse he couldn't control.

Their bodies were pressed even tighter than they'd been before, flush against each other, and even though Spock could have flung him across the room he didn't, but there was perplexity hidden in his carefully constructed features, and Jim loosened his grip immediately, horrified at what he'd done, then proceeded to practically shove Spock out of the individual bed.

"So… what the hell were you doing anyway?" he said defiantly, daring Spock to comment on his inappropriate moment of girlish clinginess.

But Spock was breathing slightly hard, and seemed, for a moment, at a loss for words.

Which was… new. To say, that had never happened before. Spock always had an answer. Spock was never rendered speechless, at least since Nero, that concept just didn't exist. Jim knew this, yet Spock was standing there staring at the empty space in the bed he'd occupied moments before and not saying anything.

"Spock?" He said, sitting up and swinging his legs down, thankful for the fact that he at least wore baggy grey pyjama pants, even if no one had seen fit to give him a shirt, or (now that he thought about it) any underwear.

"No," Spock said suddenly, seemingly coming back from wherever he'd been before. "You must not move," he added in his more normal tones.

"What? Spock, tell me what the hell's going on," Jim said, exasperated. "Last thing I remember I… we were talking to the Stitun delegation about liquid nitrogen as fuel for their land vehicles… and you… said… my name. A warning. I was injured? I… can't remember what happened after that. We were in their mechanics station, I think?"

"Yes, I can explain," Spock said, his tone slightly strained, as though speaking was difficult to him.

But no explanation seemed forthcoming after that, even though Jim waited an entire minute.

"Spock," Jim snapped his fingers impatiently. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I apologize. I am merely… in need of meditation."

"Oh." Despite his burning curiosity, Jim realised it was time to be Captain again, and he slipped into his usual, slightly more formal tone and posture with comfortable ease. "Okay, Spock, then I can get Bones to explain, you may go meditate in your quarters. Thank you for… whatever it was that you did, that saved my life."

"But… no."

This time Spock's tone was more forceful, and he took a step forward, toward Jim, so he was looking down at Jim and Jim was looking up into those incredible eyes… and the force radiating from them as Spock said:

"I do not wish to leave you."

Jim's heart did a little lurch, and he felt his throat constrict. He knew Spock hadn't wished to sound so… so, well, so… well… like that. But he couldn't help the singing in his veins.

"Captain?" Spock looked kind of uncertain, like maybe he'd said too much. Jim thought that maybe he had, just not the way that Jim wanted.

"That's okay, Spock. You actually look like you could use some sleep."

And he did. Now that Jim got a good look at Spock in the glaring fluorescent lights, he thought that he'd had never seen Spock as unkempt as this; skin taut over his cheekbones, face pale (well, paler than usual) and drawn, hair mussed up, dark green bruises under his eyes… It gave him a haunted, ragged sort of look that really should not have been attractive at all, but Jim supposed if someone could pull off malnutrition and sleep-deprivation that was Spock.

"I do not require rest at this time, Captain."

"But… you look terrible. Seriously," Jim said earnestly. Then he realised how it sounded. "Uh, I mean you look great, as usual, just not as awesome today as… other days, when you've, you know, stopped… and… rested…"

"I was resting. I was lying down next to you two hundred and four seconds ago."

"Okay, then you don't have to go, but do you think we could get back to… that?"

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, to why that... why were you in bed with me, Spock?" Jim said, resolutely fighting the reflexive smile threatening to tug the corners of his mouth upwards.

"You do not recall the accident with the Stitun delegation? One of the liquid nitrogen tanks was structurally compromised and you pushed their Ambassador out of harm."

"Yeah, I think I remember that."

"As a result you sustained severe hypothermia and organ damage which Dr McCoy was able to repair."

He'd felt a sudden, shocking cold. "Oh. And you..."

"I was informed by the medical staff that a source of heat would be beneficial to your condition."

"That's... most unusual of them to suggest."

"They did not suggest it; I volunteered to provide said warmth in the hopes of assisting in your recovery."

Jim spared a second to wonder how, exactly, that conversation had gone down. "Thanks, Spock," he grinned. "Means a lot, that you'd sacrifice yourself like that."

"As long as you are fully recuperated." Spock said graciously, and Jim's grin widened, and opened his mouth to say "Why yes Spock, I'm feeling great," he really did. However, for some completely illogical and unexpected reason what he actually said was:

"I guess. I mean, it is kind of cold in here, isn't it?"

"What?"

Spock's reaction was immediate. He took a step forward, eyes dark and stern. "You are still cold?"

It wasn't cold at all. They had set the room temperature to a scorching high and Spock's body had done the rest; Jim was actually sweating with the heat. But… then it happened again. He was going to say "Nope, I'm fine," but instead he said:

"A little, I guess."

"Would you object to my staying, in that case?"

Jim shook his head mutely, too stunned by the look on Spock's face. He'd forgotten how his first officer could be… quite frightening.

"Very well."

And without another word Spock put his arms under Jim and lifted him completely off the bed in a single smooth gesture, as though his Captain weighed no more than a doll.

Jim gasped from the air a foot above the covers, while Spock slid underneath and then lowered him down with care, settling Jim with his side against Spock's torso, like he was cradling a little child.

Naturally, Jim did not respond kindly to this action being taken without his consent.

"What the…? Spock… that was… unfair!" he sputtered, indignant, and tried to, just generally, move. To his annoyance Spock's arms had him entirely encased, however, and he couldn't even budge an inch.

Now, Jim knew Spock was a touch telepath, and that he might glimpse certain impressions from Jim's mind if his thoughts were strong enough. But he sure as hell hoped the half-Vulcan couldn't hear what he was thinking at that very moment, because otherwise he was screwed.

And not in the good way.

"A little warning might have been nice, you know," he grumbled finally.

"I apologize," Spock said calmly. He didn't really sound like he meant it, though. Too… smug.

"Yeah, well, whatever, you saved my life so you have, like… a free pass for today, okay?" Jim said with an eye-roll.

"A… 'free pass'?"

"Yeah, I'm not allowed to, I dunno, punish you for--" being hot, smelling nice, feeling too good under me, making me half-hard by merely existing (but, you know, really up close), being nice, smelling hot, the list could go on for ages "--being all sneaky and stuff."

"… I see."

Spock's heartbeat fluttered against Jim's palm, which had (somehow) come to rest against Spock's side.

"Are you sufficiently warmed now, Captain?"

Jim pretended to consider it. The waves of heat emanating from Spock's body were soothing in a must-not-think-of-sex kind of way. Which was… an odd way to think about it.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, if you don't mind…"

"I do not have an emotional response to your presence in any way."

Ah.

That was wonderful to know.

Deciding he might as well go for it, Jim gingerly settled himself more comfortably on top of Spock (and there was a part of his brain that just knew it would never let him forget about the time when he was lying on top of Spock) and hesitantly let his head rest against Spock's shoulder.

"Mmmh…"

He let out a long breath and felt a comfortable pleasure seep into his very bones. This was heaven. There couldn't possibly be anything better than this moment. No time, no place, no one… he closed his eyes and sighed deeply, liking the way Spock's chest rose and fell under him in a smooth, even rhythm. This was the best he'd ever felt. Paradise was lying on this bed with just first officer and just being held by…
Wait.

Something wasn't quite right with that thought.

He was… he… was his version of paradise seriously… this? With Spock? Spock as his friend he understood, and Spock as the only person he trusted to know everything, he'd long ago accepted as true. Spock as the platonic ideal of something Jim might one day call love was just… too frightening, and Spock as his… mattress…?

"Captain?"

"Guh?"

"Could you please cease your movements?"

Jim froze. What had he…?

Oops. His hand had been absently caressing Spock's palm. Helloooo awkward not-so-manly contact.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and stopped, embarrassed.

"And if you could remove your hand…?" Feeling like a total idiot, Jim did as asked, and lifted himself off of Spock, prepared to admit he felt much better and that this had been a terrible idea so maybe he should go find Bones and try to convince him he should be allowed to go back on duty, because immersing himself in work sounded like a brilliant plan right about now.

But in a blindingly fast movement Spock's hand flew right in front of his face, the palm almost brushing the tip of Jim's nose, tapered fingers splayed so they were almost caressing Jim's temple, and he remembered another Spock, and ice and snow in a cave of blurred yet sharp memories shot directly into his consciousness.

"Spock…?"

"It would be best if you slept now, Captain," Spock said, his eyes wide but his tone even, and he gently closed Jim's eyelids.

But Jim had never liked doing what he was told, and he opened his eyes again.

His lashes brushed Spock's finger pads and suddenly a sharp spike of arousal shot through him, so powerful he shuddered. An instant later it was gone, but he was left panting for breath and feeling its aftermath very keenly on his body.

Spock's eyes were panicked as he slowly lowered his hand from Jim's face until it rested on his own chest.

Jim looked at it for a few seconds, skin so pale it was practically translucent with a delicate tracery of green veins, and then he swooped down and planted a kiss on the back of Spock's palm.

It happened again. For a moment an intense jolt of longing and want and desire flooded his mind and he bit his lip to stop himself from crying out.

"Jim..." Spock began, breath uneven.

Jim ignored him and tried to snatch his hand again. Spock pulled it free, but then Jim lunged forward and kissed his ear, desperate to feel more.

Next thing he knew, he was lifted bodily upward and flung down onto the bed, his arms pinned above him and Spock straddled his hips, snarling angrily at him with dark, feral eyes.

"Stop." The Vulcan's voice was surprisingly even, given the circumstances. His body was very heavy and very hot on top of Jim's.

Also, Spock's erection was creating an incredibly distracting friction that scrambled Jim's thoughts with frightening efficiency, although he managed to gasp:

"What have you done to my brain?"

"My mental barriers appear to be momentarily weakened," Spock informed him. He might as well have been saying 'It is life, Jim, but not as we know it'. "Cease your provocations so that I may rebuild them, please."

But Jim didn't want to stop. He was painfully hard and every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire. Spock's hands on his wrists were making his pulse race, and he could barely form a single coherent thought because of the memory of that feeling, coursing through him…

"Let me go, Spock," he said, desperate for more.

"I must control myself first," Spock said again.

But Jim shook his head vehemently. "No, no, I don't want that."

"Stop," Spock ordered through clenched teeth.

"Tell me what's happening. Why are your mental shields weakening?"

"Distraction can often... you... I did not expect..." Spock was blinking slowly, eyes distant, clearly attempting to gather his wits. Jim squirmed, trying to break free, and bucked his hips, which was clearly the wrong (or right) thing to do as Spock's eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"Stop, please stop," Spock panted, scrambling to get a firmer grip on his Captain. His voice was so raw and pained that Jim stilled, and waited.

"Stop it, Jim."

"But I'm not even doing anything!"

"Your thoughts…" Spock began, voice hoarse.

"What about them?"

He hadn't even been thinking of anything specific, unless you counted wondering what it would feel like to have those electric jolts directly on his--

"Control yourself, Captain," Spock snapped suddenly, and Jim felt a wave of defensiveness ignite his anger.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me to think," he retorted. "Look, this is kind of hard for me too and not all of us have your awesome Vulcan control, my friend. I'm merely Human, after all; irrational, impulse driven--" He wrapped a leg around Spock's hips and pushed himself up, slowly "--illogical, animal--" with that word he ground them together.

Spock's mouth opened in a wordless cry and his hand flew to Jim's face, like it had before, but once again his fingers stopped before they touched his skin.

"Do it," Jim breathed, smiling, filling his head with the dirtiest images he could think of. "Come on, Spock… you know you want to give in, you're dying for it…"

Spock was looking at something far away, something Jim couldn't see. "Dying… for…" he whispered absently. "Yes… give in…"

"Yes." Jim nodded forcefully. "Yes, give in."

But then Spock shook his head, his gaze still lost in some place Jim wasn't privy to.

"No."

"Yes."

"I cannot."

"Yes you can, dammit!"

Jim thought of sucking Spock's--

"Captain!"

--as loudly as he could. It seemed to work.

"I will not be able to resist much longer," Spock snarled angrily, accusatorily.

"Oops," Jim said softly, his voice tinted by a cruel edge. Because Spock could have left. He could have leapt off the bed and left but instead he sat there, the angry conqueror, with Jim at his mercy.

"Why are you doing this?" Spock said, his tone searching.

"Me? You're the one who's messed with my mind!"

"But I cannot help myself… I cannot help it if you…"

The hold on his wrists was becoming painfully tight, grinding bones together and cutting the circulation to his hands. Jim bit the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood.

"You…"

"Spock," he spat when he couldn't hold back a grimace of pain. "That hurts."

But Spock didn't loosen his grip. His eyes were glued to the trickle of red mixing with the sweat down Jim's neck.

"Spock."

The half-Vulcan swallowed with difficulty.

Jim ran his tongue over his lips in the most obscene way possible, hoping that would get Spock's attention.

Yeah… he got it all right.

"I. Said. Stop it."

Spock clamped his right hand over Jim's mouth with enough force to bruise his lips, and now he was restraining both of Jim's wrists the left one. Through the contact a particularly violent wave of lust made Jim shout out, both in agony and in frustration, the sound muffled by Spock's crushing hold.

"Do. Not. Move," Spock whispered furiously. "And do not provoke me again."

He should have been afraid, maybe. Spock looked dead serious. He should have just listened to him and tried to control himself.

But Jim wanted revenge, for being reduced to this powerless, pathetic state, and for being made to wait for Spock to come to his senses while being tortured with those freaky electric currents that kept telling his nerve-endings to do something else entirely. And for not being allowed to kiss the stupid Vulcan until he made him forget his name.

So he licked the palm of Spock's hand, teeth scraping and wet tongue tasting smooth skin. Spock hissed and, seemingly without wanting to, slid his thumb inside Jim's mouth.

It was his own undoing.

In a second Jim was completely in control. Spock became fluid, weak, his whole body sagged, head falling forward and shoulders smacking against Jim's chest, face-first into the pillow. Jim sucked deeper, feeling his head spin with the sounds Spock was making. He curled his tongue around the digit, then captured Spock's index finger as well, and the man was whimpering, and Jim was going mad, and the walls between their minds didn't just fall down, they exploded.

In a flood Spock's feelings permeated Jim's own, soaking, drenching his consciousness with a vast craving desire that was almost enough to push him over the edge, just feeling how much Spock wanted him, like a starving, all-consuming greed.

"Captain…" Spock growled, but it was no longer quite as angry, it was dirty and delicious, and it was driving Jim perilously close to the edge.

He wanted Spock to release his hands, he wanted to touch--

Spock let go the instant this wish crossed his mind and used his newly freed arm to hold himself up instead, because clearly he was having trouble with that. Jim spared a second to feel proud, and then smirked when Spock shot him a look that said he'd heard that thought.

Jim ran his hands down Spock's sides until they rested on his narrow hips and one might have sneaked further to cup his ass, because, well, it was perfect, and then he looked deep into Spock's eyes and thrust his tongue between Spock's fingers. Spock cursed in a deep tone that was probably Vulcan, and seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek, panting for breath with flared nostrils.

Jim had wanted to use the distraction to begin lifting up his first officer's shirt, but he never got that far. Spock's face was, by then, flushed a fantastic green, and his pupils looked huge, his whole body shaking slightly with the tension… and when Jim tried to do it again, Spock wrenched his hand out of Jim's mouth and latched the fingers to his face, eyes ink-black.

Jim gasped as his mind was startlingly opened.

The feeling of being utterly naked in every sense, bared and vulnerable to another person's any whim, was absolutely paralyzing. He had never felt something even remotely comparable to this in his entire life, not even on Delta Vega had it been so deep, so utterly terrifying, and the strangeness of it left him stunned. Someone who had access to his everything, even the darkest, most intimate parts he himself shied away from; someone who could flay him open with a mere thought.

Until he realised it was Spock.

And Jim wasn't alone anymore.

He was saturated by Spock, Spock in his thoughts and his memories, everywhere, I am here with you Jim, Spock touching him.

And he wouldn't have imagined his want for that man could intensify but it did, to a painful, sharp and vivid pitch that made him shout without a sound because it was almost unbearable, and then he sensed Spock smile a proud, delighted smile like he knew what it was doing to him, and Jim couldn't stand it anymore.

He blindly scrambled upward to get a hold of Spock's short hair and pulled him down, tilting his head awkwardly sideways so their lips could hungrily meet, devour, possess, because he wanted that smile inside him, he wanted it so badly he couldn't think properly anymore.

Through the touch he was bombarded with another discharge of overwhelming emotion, this time a supernatural level of condensed pleasure he'd never felt in his entire life. Every inch of skin Spock was touching sent arrows of ecstasy directly into his spine, and he was drowning…

And he could sense that Spock was still there with him, feeling everything with him, he knew this as surely as something he could touch, and even though he couldn't quite see or hear or smell him Jim knew, he knew Spock's body and his mind and all that mattered was the rush, the feeling of shattering apart, until his last thought before he knew of nothing else was "Love. This is what love feels like."

"Jim. Wake up. Wake up, Jim. Please."

At first, Jim didn't want to wake up. He wanted to cry. He wasn't really sure why he did… it was a very strange sensation, but he wanted to spill the emptiness choking his throat out of his eyes so he could breathe, because it had been a dream and life was just cruel, just a terrible, cruel joke and he was…

"Jim. Please. Please wake up. I am sorry. Please."

Strong arms were gripping his shoulders and shaking him. Spock's voice was tight with worry and what sounded like the beginnings of panic.

Jim opened his eyes.

Spock's lips were the first thing he saw.

"Captain."

Jim closed his eyes again.

"Was it a dream?" He said softly.

"Jim. Are you well?"

"Was it a dream?" Jim insisted, not daring to look into Spock's eyes. Not yet. His head ached slightly but that didn't matter. The rest of him felt like it was floating.

"I do not know to what--"

"Spock you know exactly… wait… it was real?"

Suddenly Jim opened his eyes and sat up. Well, tried to sit up, because Spock was lying on top of him. He leaned on his elbows and looked deep into his first officer's eyes.

Ice. Sickbay. Bed. Heat.

Meld.

"Did I… did I faint!?"

"Yes."

Perfect.

Well, that certainly took the cake for 'most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him during sex'. If that was even what the amazing-mind-meld-thing had been, because by Human standards they hadn't even gotten to the sex part… you know, before he fainted.

"I'm… so sorry, Spock."

Spock hung his head in what Jim found himself thinking was the man's most adorable gesture yet. "It is not your fault." He said, voice muffled against Jim's chest since he was refusing to look his Captain in the eye.

"Uh, how long was I out?" Jim cautiously asked to the top of Spock's head. The usually perfect sleek black hair was all… messy. He wanted to stroke it, but thought that maybe now wasn't the best time.

"Seven minutes, thirty-two seconds, and I estimate approximately--"

"Okay, okay." Jim awkwardly patted Spock's back. It was bad to be thinking about Spock's hot mouth damp on his chest. Spock was clearly upset about something.

It was wrong to be wondering whether he could get Spock to use said mouth for other purposes.

Very wrong.

"I just… I can't believe I…"

"I am to blame, Captain."

"What? No, no, I just… I was…"

Jim wished he knew what had gone so wrong. Spock was shaken and distressed, but he wouldn't even meet Jim's eyes so that Jim could see his thoughts.

"Spock, please look at me."

He tried to sit up, but Spock's weight was immovable.

"Spock, come on, let me look at you for a moment and we can talk about this like adults, okay?"

Finally, Spock got up and stood next to the bed. Jim spared a stolen second to glance at Spock's pants and think: 'So it seems I did something right before fainting', then cleared his throat loudly.

"All right, tell me what's bothering you," He commanded.

But Spock just shook his head again, pressing his lips together in a thin line and looking at Jim with a heartbreaking combination of regret and self-loathing clear in his eyes.

"Spock, please. Talk to me."

When he still got no answer, Jim tentatively touched the pale clenched hand where it had fisted around the sheets next to him. There was an flash of something which Spock hid well, but Jim caught anyway.

"Hey."

His fingers trailed up Spock's sinewy arm, slowly, until he reached the shoulder. Spock stayed perfectly motionless, which Jim chose to think of as encouragement and not indifference, so he tugged him down and wrapped his arms around Spock's torso, holding as tightly as he dared.

It worked; Spock's shoulders slumped and he threw himself into the embrace with so much force that the both of them fell back onto the bed, knocking the breath out of Jim's lungs in a whoosh.

"I have hurt you," Spock whispered in his ear. Jim stiffened, startled. "I apologise deeply. My lack of control today was reproachable, and I should not have been so weak to resist your advances."

"Spock you flatter yourself, not many people--" Jim began with a teasing note, feeling like a perfect idiot. But Spock didn't let him finish.

"I would have left immediately after but I knew I must ensure you were unharmed before departing, and I did not call Dr McCoy because I hypothesised that perhaps you would not want others to know--"

"I'm not ashamed of what happened, Spock!" Jim cried. "Uh, except maybe the fainting part."

His first officer leaned back and sat at the side of the bed in a completely uncharacteristically defeated gesture.

"You lost consciousness because I could not mediate the emotional transference between us. That kind of… release… is not meant for a Human brain to withstand, not even one as exceptional as yours."

"But I'm fine. Why would you say that? You didn't hurt me at all, it was… I've never felt something so incredible in my entire life. Look at me."

Spock did, eyes raking Jim's ravished appearance, not sparing the pale complexion or the heavy rise and fall of his naked chest, glowing with beads of sweat.

"I should never have violated your mind," He said with cold finality. Jim snorted.

"Violated? I was dying for it. It was amazing."

"You do not understand these matters." A dark cloud had passed over Spock's features, and there was a strange, subtle fierceness under his icy façade.

"Then explain them to me."

No answer. Jim sighed.

"Spock, you have to tell me."

"It is difficult."

Such an admittance alarmed Jim. What had happened that was so terrible Spock couldn't bear to say it aloud?

"I don't care," He said softly.

"You should. Attempting a deep meld with a Human is incredibly dangerous, but doing so without restraint and for the first time… without informing you of all its implications and meanings… on Vulcan such a transgression is punishable by law, Captain."

But finally Jim had enough.

"Captain." His tone dripped with sarcasm, and this time he very pointedly glanced down at Spock's black-regulation trousers. "Seriously."

"Jim—"

"No, you're done talking. You had your chance, now you listen to me."

Spock stared at him with a glimmer of surprise (and maybe something Jim wished he hadn't seen because he was angry, dammit, not about to be ravished), but the half-Vulcan stayed quiet. And still.

"I've had it with your self-deprecation. I wanted you. I still want you, and I guess I'll always want you since wanting you seems to be more of a constant in my life than a variable, really. And yes, to be completely honest I'd thought about this before. Imagined it. Many times. Alone. In bed."

Spock swallowed, but didn't interrupt, for which Jim was (mostly) glad.

"So you wanted me back today. At least, that's what I felt through the… in your mind. It was mutual. So we sort of… had sex, sort of thing, but not even really. It's not a big deal. Get over it. It didn't have to mean anything since you're obviously wishing you could turn back time and undo what we didn't even really do in the first place. I'm sure I'll be able to look at you again and not think about this, totally. Maybe. Almost positive. Perhaps after an extensive period of avoiding you."

He coughed and tried for his firmest Captain's tone.

"So. You will tell me plainly and right now what this means by Vulcan standards, and then we'll deal with it."

"… It means we are betrothed."

Jim felt his stomach flip or lurch or, in any case, do something unpleasant and nauseating but somehow exhilarating at the same time, which was stupid because Spock clearly was not okay with this situation and wanted them to not be betrothed, or whatever, although shouldn't it be Jim who was panicking instead of Spock, seeing as how he had the famous reputation and all that? The word 'commitment' used to be like something distant and vaguely terrifying that happened to other people but never to him so why was he thinking of cooking meals for Spock in the mornings since they lived in a Starship and ate replicated food Jesus he was having visions of domesticity and that had never happened to him before in ever oh wait maybe all this really was panicking a tiny bit.

"… Bullshit."

The second the word left his big mouth he wanted to take it back. Make it better.

"But we didn't even have sex!"

Fantastic so far, Kirk.

"I mean, not proper sex."

Really.

"With, you know, actual sex. And stuff."

Brilliant.

"I mean, uh, how did… how did it happen?"

Throughout this admittedly poor display of Jim's usually sharp wit and intelligence Spock remained stone-faced, although if Jim had to choose an emotion to be hidden behind that mask it would probably be horror. Alarm. Loathing. Or horror again.

"Like … we don't actually have to get married now or anything, right?"

Ah, wrong thing to say once more. Because as he spoke even that miniscule expression of something left, and Jim felt uncomfortably like he was staring at a mannequin. Worse, a statue. Frozen, cold, motionless… but Spock was warm, not cold.

"Hey--"

"I did say there were complications… it is a very circuitous issue." The half-Vulcan's voice was robotic, sharp and flat. "I need… time."

"And space?" He asked immediately. Spock was, after all, sitting close to him so their thighs brushed. Not that Jim minded. At all.

"Yes."

The syllable made him flinch. "Okay." When Spock didn't move Jim raised his eyebrows. "Then maybe you should get up—?"

"Please… cease speaking. A moment, Captain." Spock held up a hand and Jim noted, in a faintly bemused yet pained sort of way, that there was a small green mark where he'd bitten it before.

And so for an entire two minutes Jim was silent, even though he usually sucked at shit like being patient, but Spock obviously needed this and for Spock he'd do just about anything, including die, not have sex (which up until today he'd been doing a pretty impressive job of) or eat salads for the rest of his life. He couldn't decide on which would be hardest, though.

"Captain," His first officer said finally.

"Yes?"

"Clarify, please, the following statement you spoke four point seven minutes ago: I wanted you. I still want you, and I guess I'll always want you since wanting you seems to be more of a constant in my life than a variable, really."

Hearing his own exact words quoted back at him in Spock's blank tone was totally surreal and made Jim cringe slightly.

"Uh… what do you mean?"

"You have spoken so many contradictory and false statements in the past two minutes that I am having a slight of difficulty in processing them all. Clarify the meaning of 'want'."

Oh no. He'd chosen that word precisely for its amazing ambiguity. Damn Spock and his awesome brain… that he had seen, and touched, and explored, and…

Focus, Kirk.

"Uh, well, want… um, it's like…" Like what? Like need? Like love?

"Did you refer to an emotional or a… mere physical want?" Spock asked, and the merest flicker of insecurity, of fear, passed over his expression. Jim couldn't stand to see it.

"I…" He gaped at Spock for a few moments, then shocked even himself by tugging the man by his shirt and smashing their lips together, earning a surprised little squeak before Spock's hands pressed flat against his back, moulding their bodies together, and oh this was good, this was too good to be real…

"Jim." Spock pushed him away, eyes dark. "Clarify the meaning of this—"

"I love you."

… Oops.

Yes, well, okay.

What?

"You know what? I'm not even… going to do the whole freaking out thing." Jim said rather breathlessly (kissing Spock did that to him, apparently). "Much." He tacked-on just in case.

Spock blinked. "You love me."

"Yes."

"I find that notion… unlikely."

At the heartbreaking doubt in his voice Jim reached out a hand to touch Spock's face in an approximation of what he'd felt Spock do to him before, and closed his eyes.

"Jim, what do you think you're—?"

"Shh."

He let everything he felt wash over him, trying to project it toward Spock as loudly and firmly as he could, I love you, his mind shouted. Love, crave, want, desire, respect, admire, adore, cherish, love, love, love…

Spock sucked in a breath and clutched his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut. Jim almost drew back. "Um, was that too much? I'm sorry, I don't really—"

"Don't stop," Spock gasped, putting one hand over Jim's to prevent him letting go, and now Jim's palm was cupping Spock's soft cheek. "Please," The half-Vulcan added weakly. Jim grinned, and decided to amp it up; even though he had no idea how one was supposed to go about doing this sort of telepathic declaration.

He could sense Spock's presence inside of him again, like a wonderful glint at the back of his mind, but this time he was entering Spock's mind, into the vast, beautiful, structured corners of it, where Jim roared his love in giddy delight, feeling it pour out of him like a scream—

"Jim. Remove your hand now."

When he took a little too long to comply, Spock sprang on top of him in an agile move, like a cat, and thus dislodged Jim's grip. The Captain laughed and waved the offending limb in front of Spock's eyes, wriggling his fingers.

"Was that too much for you to handle, baby?"

Spock's right eyebrow took notice at the endearment.

"I am not an infant."

"You know exactly what I meant you little—Oh."

Spock's fingers were tugging down his shorts.

"Oh boy… is it too soon for me to say you blow my mind?"

"I do not know about 'soon'… however I believe there is a Human figure of speech concerning the use of puns such as this in which your words are equated to a certain milk-based food product?"

Jim laughed, then felt Spock's finger stroke his tip and abruptly stopped as his breath caught in his throat.

"Spock, wait, I thought we were going to do the talk thing about marriage first-- hey!" Jim yelped when Spock's finger slid down his hard length, touching him infinitely, tortuously soft. "How long have we been in here, anyway? Why isn't anyone coming in to check on me? I, oh stop that, Spock I'm trying to be—guh."

Spock's tongue flicked out, hot and wet and electrifying, over Jim's thigh, and his nose brushed the straining shaft.

"I give up," Jim said loudly to the world, and buried his hands in Spock's hair.

"It is your own fault," Spock informed him. "You reminded me that we have not engaged in sexual intercourse by Human standards. Perhaps that may be rectified now, and we can have a conversation afterwards."

"Sure," Jim choked, as the rumble of Spock's voice made him twitch with anticipation.

But suddenly Spock cocked his head to the side, and before he knew it the half-Vulcan jumped off the bed, pulled up Jim's shorts and hastily arranged the covers, then sat on the chair by the bed whose existence Jim became aware of in that instant.

"What—?"

The door opened and McCoy walked in.

Jim had never been less glad to see his friend. Ever.

Goddamn.

"Hey Bones!" He said cheerfully, raising his knees and grinning like a maniac. The doctor stilled, then looked from him to Spock. Then back.

And without a word he turned on his heel and left.

Jim burst out laughing and was about to leap off the bad and chase after him (the situation did call for revenge) but Spock captured his wrists and held him down, and damn it if that move didn't turn him on.

"You must remain in bed."

"Don't tell me what to do, baby."

"You must stop addressing me in that way, it is ridiculous."

"It's funny. We're getting married after all, aren't we? Oh God." As what he'd just said sunk in. "We're getting married, aren't we?"

"It is not humorous, and there is plenty of time before an official ceremony need be performed--"

Jim raised his hand.

"How much time is 'plenty'?"

"As much as you want, Jim," Spock answered, and he glanced up at the ceiling and then, most logically, back down. His version of an eye-roll.

It was endearing.

"So about before—"

The door hissed open again.

"Hey Bones!" Jim called, some of his frustration now colouring his voice. "Long time no see."

"So many things I wish I could un-see," The doctor grumbled, striding forward and raising an hypospray.

"I'm perfectly fine," Jim told him quickly, trying to move away.

"You almost died." McCoy calmly pushed Spock away and prepared the shot. "Stop talking now, Jim."

"I'm spiffing, I tell you—"

The doctor yanked his head sideways but suddenly there was a blur of movement and before Jim could so much as blink McCoy had been brutally thrown backward until he crashed to the floor.

"Spock!"

Jim stared, shocked, at Spock who'd apparently had his brain stolen or something.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" McCoy shouted, getting up and rubbing his behind. "Ow!"

Spock seemed to be considering this question himself.

"My apologies, doctor." He said wonderingly. "I appear to be… somewhat distressed."

"Somewhat?" McCoy barked.

"Distressed?" Jim piped in, worried.

Spock turned away from him. "A consequence of the… day's activities, Captain."

"Oh why did you have to pick that word?" The doctor groaned dramatically, and Jim rolled his eyes at him.

"Specify, Spock."

"The… meld." Spock seemed very reluctant to speak, and more closed off now that McCoy was here, much more expressionless. "I told you we are now… bonded."

"Wait, what? You're bonded? When did that happen?"

"Just… shut up for a moment, Bones." Jim said. "Spock, how does the fact that we're bonded justify that you just threw Bones…? Oh wait."

"Captain—"

"Wait, you're going to turn into a totally jealous and over-protective boyfriend now, aren't you?" He pointed an accusatory finger, delighted at the horrified look on Spock's face. He never could resist an opportunity to mess with the half-Vulcan, plus Spock had just sent his CMO flying.

"No, no, it will not last long. I shall be in control very soon, I assure—"

"So you won't hurl people who try to touch me across a room… for long."

"Not very long. I will work to ensure the period is short, it is simply a by-product of my feelings for you and the new bond which awakens more… primal instincts that I had not altogether anticipated… however this happenstance was unexpected and I am sorry."

He looked so sheepish Jim wanted to coo, or do something equally undignified.

"Well to be honest… it's kind of hot," He said instead.

Spock looked up at him, then raised an eyebrow, dark eyes glinting. "It is?"

"Yeah. Not that I'd want you to do it again anytime soon, but the fact that you could—"

"I want to die."

"Shut up, Dr McCoy."

Jim gaped.

Then he started to laugh.

Then he kept laughing for a while.

Spock was looking at the doctor with haughty and superior disdain, which just made Jim laugh harder.

"Man, that was awesome!"

McCoy tried to scowl and failed, so he finally resorted to grinning too. "Okay I'm leaving now, but I'll be back in one hour and Spock had better let me stick this hypo in you." He waved the needle threateningly, beginning to slowly edge away. "And you'd both best have had at least two sonic showers, also I will find a way to, somehow, knock."

Jim grinned and waved. "Bye now."

"Yeah, yeah. Oh and Spock, I haven't forgotten the little shoving-me-across-a-room incident, just so you know."

"I did not believe you had."

"So you'll come over for your overdue physical tomorrow?" It was the doctor's own particular talent to sound disturbingly sweet that so unnerved Jim in a funny, shallow way.

"… I suppose I shall."

With a final triumphant snort, McCoy left.

Jim stretched lazily. "So how about that shower, Spock?"

"I find the prospect agreeable." Spock conceded. But as Jim was standing to go the half-Vulcan pushed him down for what had to be, like, the hundredth time. "However I have one request before we begin experimentation with the Human version of intercourse."

"Can't wait." Jim winked. "What is it?"

"May I?" Spock raised his hand. Jim nodded immediately, and tilted his head, turning so his face was at an easier angle for access.

Before touching the long fingers to his mind Spock regarded him for a moment.

"… What?" Jim said softly, aware of the solemn emotion in the man's eyes.

"That gesture… it signifies something in my planet-- in my culture." Spock rectified. Jim's heart ached. "You did not know this, I presume?"

"No."

"It is the giving… the offering of one's self."

Jim gulped, but didn't move.

"Then I guess that's what I'm doing," He croaked.

Spock bent down and kissed his lips once, soft and tender.

"Thank you."

And then his fingers touched Jim's skin and—

Bursting inside of him like sparks, like explosions, multi-coloured and effervescent, worshipping, beautiful, perfect, was a voice, or something more than a voice because it spoke not in words but in emotions, it was a sense of wonder and awe and above all of feeling that said:

I love you too.

The End

You know, I could have named this fic "Shameless Fluff With Some Shameless Porn Thrown In; Mostly A Cliché-fest Of Smexy Times Between Our Favourite Duo" but that didn't have such a nice ring to it ;)

Also, I think I can fairly say this ENTIRE 9,000+ word oneshot happens within a space no larger than three square meters *headdesk*

And finally, Bones' cameo appearances FTW, y/y? XD