"Spock…"

They pulled away from each other for a second, panting softly. Twenty minutes they'd been in that tiny little bed together, with Spock on top and kissing every part of Jim's face he could, but not much else had happened. Hell, Spock's shirt was still on.

Not like Jim was being given the opportunity to something about that on bottom.

"I will not deny that I am nervous, Captain," Spock murmured, carefully unwinding his hands from the sheets nearby.

"I know," Jim murmured back. Even without a mind-meld, he could feel Spock's hands quiver against the mattress. "Would it make you feel better if I said I'm a little nervous too?"

Spock's lips turned slightly downward in accordance with a Vulcan frown. "Forgive me for saying so, but you are not virginal—"

"With women, Spock, not men," came the correction.

"Which prompts another question," the Vulcan continued, and he locked his dark eyes with Jim's. "Why do you press so much attention on females when you desire men?"

Jim laughed softly and ran a hand through his already-messed-up hair. "Do I have to answer that in the middle of this?"

Spock seemed to understand, and he nodded. "Then I shall move on," he said simply, and started to tug off his shirt.

Jim put a hand out to stop him. "May I?"

The green blush came up again very quickly. "If you must."

Jim nodded absently. It took an enormous amount of self-control not to touch him, but somehow he managed to peel the uniform shirt away to reveal Spock's pale torso. Even in the dim light Jim could see the green flush blooming across his chest, and he smiled a little as he tossed the shirt aside. If he had all the time in the world to look at Spock the way he was now, with his glossy black hair mussed from kissing and his chest still heaving slightly—he was so fucking gorgeous it was hard to breathe.

Of course, that vanished as soon as the gorgeous one in question opened his mouth. "I understand my physique is not quite a 'ten,' as humans may say," Spock started, somewhat bitterly, "but I think—"

Jim shook his head and—finally—touched Spock's chest. "Trust me when I say you're more than a ten."

Spock shivered softly and leaned his head down for another kiss, which Jim gladly took. He didn't push like he had before, instead letting Spock lead. The Vulcan kept his mouth closed, refusing to let Jim's tease of a tongue in, instead bypassing it to gently kiss his neck and jawline.

Jim murmured something gently unintelligible, and Spock looked up. The Captain's eyes were a little hazy, and he reached up to touch the beautiful mess of black hair. "Oh, Spock," he murmured again. "When did you get to be so wonderful?"

Spock's lips twitched upward. "That is not a quantitative query, Captain. I am not sure how to answer except with another."

"Really? Go on."

"When did you become so…" He paused, and his eyes glimmered like stars in the dark. "So remarkably fascinating?"

Suddenly Jim was being kissed again, more passionately than before, and with tongue. Lots of tongue, winding and tangling in one glorious mess. Vaguely he could feel Spock's thin fingers against his hips, but the pressure was nothing compared to the glory that was Spock's mouth—hot like fire, but with a taste like chocolate and orange that made him very greedy for more.

And then he was gone, and Jim groaned in agony. "Come back, please…"

There was a rustling, and his eyes focused back on Spock, who was vainly trying to take off his pants. Jim grinned and sat up, touched Spock's hand. "Sorry if I have to interrupt again," he joked. "Did you not want me to see?"

"If you must, Jim," breathed the Vulcan. "Though I had hoped you would be as oblivious as you were a few seconds ago."

So that's why there was so little pressure against his groin now. Jim leaned and kissed the ears, the cheeks burning with green blush. "How can I be oblivious," he asked, fumbling with Spock's fly, "when you suddenly stop kissing me as distractingly as you were earlier? Easy change to notice, Commander." With a little tug, he pulled Spock's trousers down to his knees, and raised his eyebrows at the result.

"Do you see something unusual, Captain?" Spock asked, a little dryly.

"Define unusual," Jim answered, licking his lips. Had he been straight, he would've been jealous, but that wasn't the real reason he was staring. "You make a habit of not wearing underwear, Spock?"

"I calculated that, with a tight-fitting uniform, it would be illogical to wear my traditional undergarments."

"No briefs or anything?"

"They bunch." Spock shifted uncomfortably under Jim's gaze. "Must you stare?"

"You're stunning, Spock. Convince me to look away."

Without another word Spock pulled them back together in a kiss, and this time Jim felt the writhing above him as Spock wriggled out of his pants. Jim waited for a little bit, until he felt Spock's hips settle back next to his—absolutely naked, holy hell—before rolling them over and taking top.

"J-Jim," Spock gasped.

Jim didn't answer, instead taking the break to nearly tear the remaining clothes from his body. Everything finally free, he started to clamber back on top, before Spock flipped him back over with a little noise like a purr.

Jim couldn't do more than groan. When their bodies touched, it was like his senses were being set on fire, not just from the Vulcan's fiery body temperature, but from the way he touched. He never used his hands or his fingers—those ran through his hair and across his face—but their chests brushed together with every panting breath, his mouth was licking and kissing madly over his throat and shoulders, and he ground his Vulcan hips like some kind of sex god until they were both hard as freaking rocks.

"Spock," Jim moaned, rocking up against the mattress. "Please…"

Vulcan lips slipped wetly away from his neck. "You desire more?"

Which was right around when Jim stuck out his hand and grabbed Spock's on impulse. This time he could feel Spock's emotions, and damn if he didn't almost drown in them—the heat raging by his heart, at his hips, the desire pumping through his emerald blood, the want, the almost need to let go of his control—

Spock tore his hand away, eyes wild. "You were not meant to—"

"Damn not meant to, Spock," Jim gasped. "I felt it, in my bones." He pulled his Vulcan close, touching as much as he could of his shoulders, his face.

"As I felt yours," Spock murmured in answer, "but I must stay in control of—"

"And if I don't want you to?"

There was a quivering silence, then Spock spoke, very low, holding up two fingers to Jim's lips: "Lick."

Jim eagerly obeyed, sucking and running his tongue over each digit for as long as possible, listening to Spock's groans of pleasure until the fingers were removed from his mouth and placed between his legs.

"Nnn," Jim winced, bucking against the new pressure, but Spock didn't stop, not for what felt like ages. He wasn't rough, but it was invasive and it ached and stung in places, and worse when the fingers slipped in and out in rhythm. Jim was halfway convinced this was enough, that he didn't want more, when Spock's finger slipped inside and grazed—

"Oh, Christ."

Spock panted, licked his lips as looked down at Jim's wide-open eyes. His lip curled up and, after an agonizing second of nothing, flicked his finger again.

Jim bucked hard, moaned and ground against Spock's hips, eliciting a gratified hiss from the Vulcan. The fingers slipped away. "You're ready," Spock purred as he swung his legs around Jim's hips.

More groaning from Jim. "Spock—"

His hands were placed on Spock's hips. "Squeeze if I become too rough," he murmured, and placed a surprisingly gentle kiss on Jim's lips.

Then he plunged.

It was slow and careful at first, with Spock taking care with each thrust to hit that one spot from before, and the deliberateness nearly drove Jim mad with want. So he moaned and writhed against the sheets, rather loudly and wantonly, his hands leaving Spock's hips to find purchase on his back.

And when Spock put his hand to Jim's face, Jim licked, laved his tongue all over it until Spock's breath came in harsh pants and his hips were speeding up. Thin fingers reached out again, seared Jim's cheek and pressed to his temples, and this time the mind meld stuck—their blood raged at the same pace, and every kiss and thrust became a shared pleasure, as if they were both being touched and touching all at once.

And when their tandem moans were echoing across the meld, with hips driving a devastatingly hot tattoo and hands stroking what occupied lips couldn't reach, Jim let out a choked gasp of "Spock!" and they knew they were there, and released simultaneously, hot and white across pale stomach and deep within, until they were both light-headed and shivering and, with a last slick thrust, Spock let out a weak groan and collapsed, spent, at Jim's side.

They lay there together, panting softly, for the next who-knew-how-long, until Jim curled inwards towards Spock. Spock didn't protest, but Jim felt something warm and golden cross between their minds which, he realized vaguely, had not become un-melded yet.

"Is this one of your human mating rituals?" Spock asked, his voice still low and sexily hoarse.

"Called cuddling, Spock," Jim murmured in response. He reached up and ran his hands through the sweat-slicked black hair. "Releases some kind of hormones or something, builds closeness."

"Mmm." Jim could feel Spock's mental gears spinning, slower than he'd anticipated for a Vulcan. He felt a vague tap at the back of his free hand and looked down; Spock's hand was next to his, his first and middle fingers extended towards Jim.

Jim looked confused for a second before Spock spoke again. "Ozh'esta," he explained. "The Vulcan form of a kiss. It is usually reserved for bondmates or lovers, but I believe—"

"We've kinda done both, haven't we?" Jim noted, copying the gesture and touching their fingers together.

Spock blinked twice, his surprise transferring across the mental link.

"It's only fair, really, for all you've done for me," Jim added, watching their hands with a smile.

"And what have I done for you, Ca—Jim?"

"Saint Paddy's traditions."

"Those again?" Jim felt Spock make something like a chuckle across the link. "I thought we had completed the 'tradition' of turning me green."

"That was my part." Jim started to smile, and gently stroked Spock's half of the finger-kiss. "You, Mr. Spock, thoroughly kissed an Irishman."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware you were of Irish heritage."

"Welsh," Jim replied. He nuzzled into Spock's chest, and wrapped his arms around the still-emerald-flushed Vulcan.

To Jim's gentle surprise, Spock laughed quietly and pulled them close together. "Close enough for me, Jim."

Author's Notes: I know, I know, but I couldn't help it! I honestly couldn't believe the reaction the first chapter got. 217 visitors in three days? You people are absolutely incredible! So consider this a major thank-you. I'd apologize for the pure smut, but from the reviews I've gotten I'm not sure if I should apologize to begin with. You know who you are! ;)

A couple important mentions and thank you's: first, to Tech Duinn, whose Vulcan glossary at the end of her story Ku tor Ku actually gave me the term ozh'esta to use in the first place. I honestly wouldn't have known it existed without her meticulous notes. She's also all-around amazing and a brilliant writer, so seriously check out her stories here on FanFiction. There's also rainbowstrlght, whose writings on LiveJournal pretty much motivated me into writing things like this. Zenith and Azimuth, among others? Fantastic stories that should be read by all. I'd also like to thank the amazing xladyjagsvolleyball16x for being my beta tester and editer. I love you guys so very much.

Last thing: I admit minor BSing! I took the Welsh heritage bit off of Chris Pine's bio, not Kirk's. Continuity's sake, ya know?

Now, Happy Saint Patrick's Day! Go turn some Vulcans green!