A/N: Please note the change in rating!

It was the sixth day since they left San Francisco, two days after Jim kissed his first officer, one day after he woke up next to said first officer. Their morning routine had taken on a weird sense of normalcy by now- wake up call at six, stumbling off to the bathroom, brushing their teeth together, check-out at seven.

Jim was halfway through step three by the time he realized what was even happening. He glanced over at his companion surreptitiously and ran a wet hand over his face, pausing with his palm over his mouth in silent contemplation.

Spock paused and looked over, water dripping from his own chin, and raised a dripping eyebrow with perfect pacing. "Yes?"

"Ah." Jim blinked, then looked down and splashed his face again. The water was cold, and he shook his head, causing Spock to shuffle away in order to avoid being sprayed by stray droplets. "You want to borrow my razor?" Jim asked when he straightened, gesturing offhandedly at his own chin. Spock looked slightly surprised, raising a hand and running it absently along his jaw. Jim could hear the scrape of skin against stubble and tried not think about how it would feel against his own, trailing down his neck, his-

"Do you prefer it unshaved?"

"No, you're fine," Jim blurted, and scowled in embarrassment. "Never mind...do what you want." He turned away abruptly and squeezed out of the tiny bathroom, but not before seeing Spock's puzzled expression.

Spock didn't shave, and Jim found himself staring at the unfamiliar shadow on his face all morning. Spock's hair had gone irreparably unkempt over the past few days, growing out slightly past his normal hairstyle, and when he wore his coat collar up with his hair precariously windswept and his jaw darkened with two-day stubble….

How Jim was expected to resist that, he had no idea.

Fortunately, the hotel he'd managed to get them into provided enough distraction to keep him from jumping his first officer. It was a couple of blocks away from the Strip, not quite the penthouse, but the closest second that Jim could get, though the manager had nearly bent over double for them once he figured out who they were.

Jim restrained himself from hitting the Strip until the first rosy tinges of sunset spread across the sky. As soon as the neon signs flickered to life, he was dragging Spock downstairs to the glittering streets, grinning and flushed with excitement. He'd taken them both out shopping during the day, determined that he was going to get Spock into a pair of those leather pants that were apparently all the rage on Delta Four, and he hadn't been disappointed by the local retailers.

Spock looked good, even though he'd finally given in to his Vulcan sensibilities and shaved before leaving, but it only made the tantalizing glimpses of his pale jaw and throat above the dark collar of his jacket that much more tantalizing.

Jim didn't even want to get started on those pants. The way they hugged Spock's hips, defined the muscles in his legs, the way the black fabric caught the light- no. He was here on a mission and not even Spock's incredibly distracting physique was going to stop him from having the night of his life.

Start small, he reminded himself, as he led the way through crowded sidewalks and packs of gawking tourists. It was probably Spock's first time at a casino, and it'd been years since Jim had been. Vegas was likely a little too much for either of them at the moment.

He spotted the silver starship sign next to an arching fountain with colored lights beneath the spouts and grinned. "There."

Spock followed his gaze, and the corner of his mouth shifted in that odd way of his that really wasn't a smile at all. "Naturally," was all he said, and they crossed the street.

Jim sighed contentedly when the blast of cold air beyond the golden doors chased away the clinging heat of the streets. He ran a hand through his hair as he turns, scanning the carpeted lobby with mounting excitement. "All right, we're going to go there," he pointed at the counters lining one gleaming wall, complete with smiling women with white gloves and perfectly coiffed hair behind the glass partitions, "we're going to buy in, then we're going to go wild."

Spock eyed the counters for a moment, then nodded gravely. "That is acceptable."

"Do you…..you know how this all works?" Jim gestured vaguely at their surroundings, suddenly unsure how Spock was going to handle this.

Spock looked at him, arching an eyebrow as if Jim had said something incredibly defacing. "I am familiar with your culture's games of chance."

"They're not really-"

"Of course, 'chance' is a subjective term that would do better to be replaced by 'mathematical calculation of infinitesimal probability-"

"You'll do fine," Jim said decisively, and he clapped Spock's shoulder with a cheerful grin. "Let's go."

The crowd beyond the counters was mostly what he expected in a mid-class casino. Modestly dressed, considering the setting, with the occasional glint of jewelry and other adornments in the low light. Chandeliers hung low over their heads, glittering and spinning slowly above the tables. Jim shoved his hands in his pockets, listening to the satisfying clatter of chips, and sighed in content. "Yeah, this is more like it."

Spock was looking around impassively, his face blank and unreadable as he took in each table with increased concentration. "Is there a usual…..protocol as to how to initiate participation?"

"Not really. You see something you like, you sit and they cut you in. Just don't lose," Jim added, then bumped Spock's arm amiably. "Go on. I'll just be over there." He indicated a roulette table he'd been glancing at appreciatively from the beginning.

Spock gazed at him for a moment, and Jim paused mid-step. "You gonna be okay?" he asked, wondering if maybe he'd pushed it a bit far by throwing Spock straight into the fray.

Unexpectedly, Spock reached out and grazed the back of his hand against Jim's sleeve. The intent behind the gesture surprised him more than the slight contact, and Jim gawked openly for a few seconds. "What-"

"Good luck, Captain," Spock said, and Jim was startled into a grin, remembering the conversation that had resulted in this entire trip.

"Keep talking that way, Spock, we'll make a human out of you yet." He backed away a couple of steps, snapping a casual salute that left him feeling even more awkward, and turned quickly before he could make a bigger fool out of himself. Spock had this terrible habit of catching him off guard with the simplest of things, and it never failed to give Jim all sorts of ideas that he shouldn't be having in public.

There were two other players at the roulette table, a middle-aged man with red hair that reminded him a bit of Scotty, and a younger woman who glanced once at Jim with interest before moving over to let him in. He situated himself along the side where he could keep an eye on Spock before piling his chips busily on the table, eyeing the current layout.

He played safe to start, dropping a couple of chips onto the red before raising his eyes. Spock had found his way to a blackjack table, he noted, seated with his back to Jim's table. One of the occupants leaned over and said something to the Vulcan, who turned his head slightly to listen. Jim felt an unreasonable spike of jealousy and lowered his gaze quickly to consider his betting options once more.

A few rounds passed and Jim's pile of chips grew steadily larger. He was raking in the last few blue discs with a delighted grin when he glanced over at Spock again absently, then froze, his chips lying forgotten on the table. There were two heavy-set men in suits standing on either side of the seated Vulcan, and Jim had definitely seen enough holovids in his lifetime to know exactly where this was heading. He made his excuses smoothly, abandoning half his winnings in his haste, and made for Spock's table as quickly as he could.

By the time he was close enough to hear their exchange, he wasn't sure whether to laugh or freak out.

"Sir, you need to come with us," the man on the left, whom Jim had already automatically named Big was saying. His partner, Heavy, folded his arms across his chest menacingly, his suit rippling and straining at the seams.

Spock looked up at them calmly, head swiveling from one to the other. "I do not perceive an issue at hand." He had a mountain of chips in front of him, Jim saw with an edge of hysteria, all stacked neatly according to value and forming some sort of color coded pyramid. The ass had even made what looked like a replica of Stonehenge off to one side.

The dealer and other players at the table were studiously ignoring the scene, though the surrounding patrons were starting to take notice. Jim shouldered forward through the growing crowd, sliding around Heavy smoothly and grasping Spock by the arm. "Hey there, Spock," he forced through gritted teeth, grinning in what he hoped was a charming and breezy manner at the bouncers. "Gentlemen. What can I do for you?"

"Ain't your problem, kid," Big snorted. "Problem's with your pal here."

Spock opened his mouth, and Jim squeezed his arm warningly to shut him up. "Problem?" he repeated idiotically, still smiling. "Nah, Spock here's no problem at all, is he? A proper civilian, this one. He's Vulcan, you know."

"Let's take this outside," Heavy rumbled, and Jim's smile took on a hint of desperation.

"No, I'm sure that won't be nec-"

"Very well," Spock said suddenly, rising from his seat and dislodging Jim's grip from his arm. "We shall discuss this elsewhere."

Big and Heavy led the way through the casino, and Jim took the opportunity to hiss in Spock's ear, "What the hell did you do?!"

"I was merely ascertaining the order of the cards through visual-"

"Wait, you were counting cards?" Jim wanted to laugh and punch him in the face at the same time. "You can't do that here, Spock! Or, if you have to, at least do it without drawing attention!"

Spock blinked at him slowly, almost recalcitrantly. "I apologize," he said, somehow not sounding apologetic at all. The urge to punch him was slowly beginning to overpower Jim's amusement.

"I'm going to get so trashed tonight," he muttered, determined that if he was going to be pounded into a sad pile of bruises and broken bones, he might as well drink his way down the Strip afterwards he peeled himself off the pavement.

In the end, it turned out that being evicted alongside Spock was probably the best situation possible. It hadn't taken longer than three seconds in the alley and one solid sucker punch to Jim's gut before the Vulcan finally realized what Big and Heavy had in mind for them, and he decided to take matters into his own nerve-pinching hands. By the time Heavy hit the ground, Jim was swiftly making plans to take Spock along with him on all his bar runs from now on.

"That was great," Jim gasped, still wheezing from disbelieving laughter as they stumbled down the street. Or rather, Jim clutched at Spock's arm and staggered along while the Vulcan gripped the back of his jacket to make sure he didn't fall on his face.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, probing efficiently at the swelling on Jim's jaw with cool fingertips.

"Ow," Jim complained, batting Spock's hand away. "I'm fine. But seriously, that was awesome."

Spock gave him a long look, as if wondering if he'd taken more damage to his head from the punch than either of them had thought. "There was nothing particularly awe-inspiring about the altercation."

"No, it's just the fact that it happened. We were thrown out of a casino because you were counting cards, and then you kicked their asses anyway." The situation was becoming more hilarious the more he thought about it, and Jim grinned before wincing and shifting his bruised jaw back and forth a couple of times. "That being said, I think it's best to stick to the bars from now on, huh?"

"That might be advisable."

It was perhaps not the wisest decision he had made, Spock later realized, as he helped Jim stagger away from the third establishment of their increasingly excitable night. He had narrowly defused the most recent aggression before it had escalated to the point of physical violence by demonstrating his admittedly outdated knowledge of the Terran legislative systems. And he had only managed it due to the already disconcerted state of the opposing party. After taking a few feeble, halfhearted swings that struck nothing but air, he had been permitted to leave with his drunkenly babbling captain in tow.

"It would do you some good," Spock stated, "to learn some restraint. Even better, I suggest that you utilize it occasionally."

"You're no fun," Jim accused, nearly crashing into a light pole. He squinted suspiciously at the obstruction before maneuvering around it clumsily, leaning heavily on Spock's side and clutching at his sleeve. Spock allowed it, if only because it brought Jim closer to himself and farther out of harm's way.

He managed to guide the both of them back to the hotel, where he nodded at the receptionist and maneuvered his captain into the elevator.

"You're the best," Jim mumbled against his shoulder, and Spock tightened his grip around the man's waist. "Seriously. Best night ever."

"I shall hold you to that statement in the morning."

"Ha." Jim gripped the back of Spock's jacket for support as they lurched unevenly down the hallway, knocking his shoulder against the doorway when they attempted to enter their room at the same time. Spock left Jim in the center of the room, ensuring that he would not fall over by propping him against a table, and crossed over to the closet to remove his jacket. He could smell something sweet in the air, heavy and dark, and it was unfamiliar enough that he did not recognize it until Jim said, "Sweet, the fondue fountain came."

He turned to see Jim inspecting the pot of bubbling liquid that Spock had skimmed over upon his first glance through the room, dismissing it as another one of the hotel's complimentary services.

"Ordered it before we left," Jim explained, without waiting for Spock's inevitable question. "It's so good," he said earnestly, looking up at Spock. "Really, it's the best." He picked up a strawberry from the accompanying platter and dunked it enthusiastically in the chocolate.

Spock watched him take an overlarge bite out of the fruit, his tongue darting out to clean the stray drops of chocolate on his lips. A dribble of juice welled at the corner of his mouth and Jim wiped at it absently, licking the stain on the back of his hand. He raised his eyes and met Spock's gaze, still chewing thoughtfully. "Want some?"

"Perhaps at a later time," Spock deflected, glancing away as he spoke. "It is late, I wish to prepare for-"

"C'mere," Jim said, his voice suddenly much closer and sounding nearly sober for a split second, and Spock looked up automatically in response-

Jim's hand shot out with surprising speed and accuracy for his current state, fisting in the fabric of Spock's collar and hauling him forward. The first kiss went tragically awry, landing somewhere southwest of Spock's lips instead of its intended destination, but the next attempt placed Jim's mouth in the correct location.

Spock made a small sound of protest and warning, reaching out to readjust the distance between them, but Jim pushed forward insistently, tightening his grip on the Vulcan's shirt.

His kisses were not unlike a storm, Spock distantly noted. Unpredictable-

-a sudden bite to the corner of his mouth-

-relentless-

-followed by a swipe of his hot tongue across the seam of Spock's lips-

-overwhelming-

-hands winding around the back of his neck, sliding into his hair and gripping hard-

-Spock's back met the wall with a sudden thump, and he raised a hand automatically to steady himself, fingers sliding around the side of Jim's face and holding him…...back? Closer?

He did not know, and he swiftly found himself no longer caring.

Jim pulled back to gasp for air before plunging back in eagerly, pushing Spock hard against the wall as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to Spock's brow, cheek, jaw, then proceeded to ravage his mouth thoroughly. There was something digging uncomfortably beneath Spock's shoulder blade- a light switch of some kind- but the pain became a secondary notice to the blazing distraction that was Jim's hands now sliding greedily up the back of his shirt, fingertips tapping an indecipherable tattoo across his ribs.

"Jim," he gasped, his senses finally returning. He brought his hands around with difficulty and seized Jim's wrists, restraining them tightly against his chest.

Not to be foiled by the interruption, Jim's mouth wandered determinedly to his throat, teeth scraping and tongue flicking at the throbbing pulse point beneath his jaw. Spock closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself. "Jim, wait."

"Shut up," Jim mumbled against his neck, his hips crowding Spock even closer against the wall. "I'm drunk."

"I am aware," Spock told him, pushing him away gently. Jim blinked up at him confusedly, his overbright eyes glittering in the dim light and his parted lips-

No. Spock shook his head forcefully. "You are inebriated," he said firmly, tightening his grip on Jim's shoulders. "It is best if you rest now."

"Don't wanna," Jim said petulantly, his chin jutting out defiantly. "Wanna try out the hot tub."

Spock resisted the urge to rub at his face wearily, crossing his arms firmly across his chest instead. "Very well," he said evenly. "But afterwards-"

"You're coming in with me."

Spock blinked. And blinked again. "Excuse me, Captain, I do not believe I heard that correctly-"

"You're. Coming in. With me." Jim grinned loopily. There was a high flush in his cheeks, his eyes glittering and all too blue. "That's an order, Commaaaanderrrr." He slurred the last word, swaying forward alarmingly. He came to rest against Spock's chest, chin tucked conveniently over Spock's shoulder. He then turned his face under Spock's jaw and inhaled greedily, the tickle of his breath against sensitive skin causing Spock to flinch reflexively, his hands coming up to grip Jim's arms.

"Cease that at once."

"What, thiiiiiis?" Jim nuzzled the side of Spock's neck, hips pushing insistently against Spock's thigh. He giggled drunkenly, "Come on, Spooooock. Hey, hey, you know what rhymes with Spock? Co-"

"That is enough." With a surge of willpower, Spock placed a hand firmly across Jim's mouth, propelling him backwards towards the bathroom. Jim giggled, his tongue flicking out teasingly through the gaps between Spock's fingers. Spock faltered halfway through the bathroom door at the abrupt assault on his already frazzled nerves, his heart spiking almost painfully against his ribs as Jim licked a broad, hot stripe across his palm. It felt exhilarating, burning-

"Jim." He hoped his voice was not as shaken as he felt.

"Mmmm?" Jim took advantage of Spock's distraction to wrap a hand around his wrist, holding him still as he pulled Spock's first two fingers into his mouth.

Spock grabbed the doorway for support as his knees threatened to buckle. His eyes flickered, vision bursting with white spots as Jim did something fascinating with his tongue and then-

"That is enough." He pulled his hand away forcefully, gripping the front of Jim's shirt and pulling him up until he stood on his toes. Jim plucked at his arm bemusedly for a few moments, then gave up and let his hands swing at his sides. He tilted his head lazily, eyeing Spock with the carelessness of one truly liberated from rationality. "Why don't you….make me stop?" he drawled, a loose grin tugging at his lips.

Spock felt a tick of slow anger in the corner of his mind and stifled it halfheartedly. He regarded Jim coolly for a moment longer, then deposited him unceremoniously on the bathroom counter beside the sink. "Stay," he ordered, turning away to begin filling the tub.

He should not have expected Jim to obey. Less than two seconds later, he found himself hauled backwards by his collar by two legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The sound of water gushing into the tub muffled his grunt of surprise as he lost his balance, stumbling backwards until his back met Jim's chest.

There was a warm, almost burning hand wriggling under his shirt before he could so much as register his position, tracing skittishly over his stomach while Jim's mouth found the side of his neck again and bit down sulkily. "Don't ignore me," he breathed petulantly, his lips brushing against Spock's ear.

"I was not." Spock attempted to extricate himself without hurting Jim, then froze as the hand that had been obsessively circling his belly button wandered downwards with obvious intent. "Jim-"

"Shh," Jim murmured, his breath hot and wet against Spock's skin. He swallowed audibly, shifting uncomfortably as Jim's hand tightened appreciatively. "Yeah….much better, right?"

"No," Spock said tersely. The sound of hot water filling the tub echoed around the room, filling his ears until he could not recollect quite what he had been doing before….the air was warming, a hint of humidity lacing the atmosphere. Spock took all of this in gradually, feeling more than a little warm himself as he became aware of Jim rocking slightly against his back, his breathless groan muffled against Spock's shoulder.

"You-"

"Shut up," Jim mumbled.

Spock felt a spike of irritation through the lazy waves of pleasure pulsing through his abdomen. He steeled himself and turned around awkwardly within the circle of Jim's arms, frowning disapprovingly at the inebriated grin pasted across the man's face. "Remove your clothing," he said sternly.

Jim hiccupped in glee. "Say please."

Spock stared at him evenly, trying to suppress the leaping sensation in his gut at those slurred, unexpectedly sincere words. "You are not yourself," he said, careful to enunciate every word steadily. "Remove your clothing, or I shall do so for you."

Jim leaned back against the mirror, still grinning, and made no move to undress.

"Very well," Spock said at last. He reached out and grasped the edge of Jim's shirt between his fingers. Jim did not move, and Spock stepped closer, lifting the fabric up slightly. He could smell Jim, hot and damp from exertion and excitement, the inch of exposed skin above his waistband seeming to glow enticingly in the half light of the bathroom. Spock pulled the shirt up higher, and Jim raised his arms obligingly, his muscles clenching and flexing as he laced his fingers above his head.

Spock allowed himself to inch forward slightly, the outside of his thighs bumping against Jim's spread knees. He tugged the shirt over Jim's head, then up his arms, and suddenly Jim's face was all too close to his own.

"Keep going," Jim murmured, his hooded eyes fixed intently on Spock's mouth.

"You are not in the proper state of mind," Spock said gently, ignoring his own plummet of disappointment when Jim's face fell.

"Ah, hell," Jim grumbled, pushing clumsily away from Spock. "My bag-"

"What?" Spock asked, uncharacteristically inept as he braced himself against the counter, a hand on either side of Jim's waist.

"Get my bag-" Jim made a fumbling effort to reach the bedroom, and Spock stepped aside automatically to let him stumble out. The air was warm and growing damp from the accumulating steam, curling his hair against the back of his neck. He heard rustling and a muffled curse before Jim strode determinedly back into the bathroom, rubbing at his neck and scowling. His eyes were still bright, but clear, and there was a certain twist of displeasure to his lips as he tossed the empty hypo into the sink that could only come from abrupt sobriety.

"What was that?" Spock asked, though he was fairly certain he had made the correct assumptions about the hypospray.

"Who cares, I'm sober as hell now," Jim said grumpily, looping his arms around Spock's neck and hauling him in close. His bare chest was overbearingly warm even through the Vulcan's clothing, his hands sliding beseechingly through Spock's hair. "So let's-"

"Your bath," Spock pointed out, grasping Jim's wrists and gently peeling him away.

Jim made a noise of protest, then grinned with renewed mischief as he dropped his hands to his waistband. "All right."

Spock forced himself to watch impassively as Jim unfastened his pants and let them pool at his ankles before stepping out of the clump of fabric. He was not wearing underwear, Spock saw, and he thought ruefully that it should not take him by such surprise after all this time.

Jim lowered himself into the full tub with a content groan that rattled at the edge of Spock's restraint. "Your turn," he grinned, leaning back with his elbows resting on the curved edge of the tub. The steam obscured what lay beneath the water's surface, but there was little doubt as to just how Jim was sitting.

"I am content with observing."

"You promised," Jim insisted. Spock could recall doing no such thing, and he told Jim as much.

"An order, then," Jim sighed reluctantly. "If you have to be like that. Come on, I've been wanting to get you out of those pants all day."

Spock hesitated, then gripped the hem of his shirt. When it passed over his head and he could see again, Jim was watching with unbridled fascination, tracing his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

"That is very distracting," Spock told him, hands pausing halfway through unzipping his trousers.

"I know" Jim answered absently, not looking away. "It's only fair."

Spock hesitated, pondering Jim's cryptic words, then removed the last of his clothing and entered the tub. Jim drew his legs up against his chest, allowing Spock to sit against the other side of the tub, and the Vulcan closed his eyes briefly in satisfaction as he settled into the warm water. It was rare that he encountered temperatures that were truly agreeable with his disposition, and he had to admit that the familiarity was...comforting, to some degree.

He ignored the first press of Jim's foot against his calf, deciding that it must have been an unintentional movement, and the second contact was undeniably deliberate, tracing down the line of his shin with light, teasing touches.

"Jim," he said, restraining as much of his growing exasperation as he could.

Jim grinned ferally, then leaned forward and gripped the edges of the tub beside Spock's arms, trapping him in one place. Spock stayed perfectly still, feeling a trickle of condensation rolling down the side of his face. Jim tilted his head to consider Spock for a long moment, then leaned forward and caught the drop on his tongue before it could drip from the Vulcan's chin.

Spock ceased to breathe. He felt the water lap against his chest as Jim hoisted himself forward, settling his weight across Spock's hips as his tongue chased higher, flicking teasingly at Spock's closed lips.

"You gonna let me in?" Jim breathed.

"You-" Spock began to say, then grunted in surprise when Jim surged forward, seizing the chance to slide his tongue in Spock's mouth. And from that moment on, the battle was lost. Spock could taste the dizzying sweetness of chocolate on Jim's tongue, with a hint of the tart strawberries in the edges of his mouth. His senses overloaded with the smell of heat and steam and Jim, and he realized abruptly that his hand had found its way into Jim's wet hair, clutching hard at the short strands and pulling him even closer. Their chests brushed against each other, pressed in close, wet skin sliding slick together as they struggled briefly to gain the upper hand.

Spock inevitably won that battle, pushing Jim forcefully to the other side of the tub and pinning him in place with a hand against his chest. Warm water sloshed over the edges of the tub, surging and lapping against his back, and Spock could feel his mind fizzling into blissful blankness as he stared down at Jim, captivated by the sight of hooded blue eyes and smooth, flushed skin.

Jim reached up slowly, wrapping hot, dripping hands around Spock's wrist. He did not attempt to remove Spock's hand, holding him there instead, and shifted his position against the side of the tub, spreading his knees unthinkingly to allow Spock more room between them.

Spock found that his respiratory rate had increased significantly in the past six seconds, and willed himself to calm down. Nevertheless, he could not stop his eyes from roaming, nor his hand from pressing harder against Jim's chest, his free hand sliding up and cupping the side of his neck possessively. His fingertips tingled against damp skin, itching to slide into place and-

His heart stumbled at the thought, a tugging sensation pulling at his gut.

"You gonna look all night?" Jim eventually asked, his voice pitched low and breathless. His eyes seemed too bright in the low lighting, which made little sense, and yet nothing of this situation possessed anything remotely similar to reason.

"Would you allow me to?" Spock replied in kind. He shifted forward, his knees sliding under the back of Jim's thighs. Jim shivered, his hands tightening around Spock's wrist, and parted his lips, the tip of his tongue flicking out unconsciously at the corner of his mouth. "Actually," he said, tilting his chin up towards Spock, "I had something else in mind."

"Do tell," Spock replied, his voice slightly strangled.

Jim frowned at him exasperatedly. "For crying out loud, Spock, will you just kis-"

Spock surged forward, catching that loud, brash, rambling mouth with his own and silencing Jim efficiently. Jim sucked at his tongue distractedly, twining his arms and legs around Spock to keep him in place, and Spock shuddered in reluctant pleasure as they pressed against each other.

Jim tightened his grip for a moment, then pulled away abruptly. Spock blinked as Jim stood and stepped over the edge of the tub, sloshing a wave of water onto the tiled floor.

"Jim?"

"Hold on," Jim called back distantly, drying himself inefficiently with a few swipes of a white towel before depositing said towel on the counter and disappearing naked into the bedroom. Spock waited for a count of fourteen seconds and an indignant noise from the next room before leaving the tub in search of his errant captain.

He found Jim standing guiltily by the chocolate fountain, dark liquid staining his chin and dripping down his chest in what appeared to be a failed attempt at containing it in his mouth.

"It was a good idea," Jim protested, upon noticing Spock's frozen presence in the doorway. "It was gonna be super hot and everything." He rubbed halfheartedly at the mess on his chest with his hands, smearing the chocolate across his skin. Spock swallowed.

"I was planning to come back and, like, feed it to you or something. I mean, this stuff makes you higher than a-" Jim ended with an indignant squawk as Spock stepped forward and pushed him backwards onto the bed with a decisive shove, straddling his legs with a knee on either side of his hips.

"What," Jim spluttered. "What are you- oh."

Spock paused with his fingers still spread across Jim's chest and met his eyes, then deliberately dragged his fingertips through the puddles of cooling chocolate, leaving dark streaks behind as he mapped his way down Jim's abdomen.

"Are you-" Jim tried again, his voice hoarse as he watched. "Are you gonna-"

"Be still," Spock reprimanded gently, touching a finger to Jim's mouth. He watched, fascinated, as a flush came to Jim's face and he parted his lips, a flash of pink tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from the pad of Spock's finger.

"Mmm," Jim uttered, reaching up to grip Spock's wrist, holding him still as he proceeded to clean off the rest of Spock's fingers, and Spock was unable to suppress a shiver at the vibration of Jim's voice against his already sensitive digits. The smell of chocolate was making him heady, each breath seeming to come more reluctantly, and the sight of the dark swirls on Jim's damp skin was a sure test of mental restraint if nothing else.

Jim gave an unexpected thrust of his hips, rolling up against Spock, and the Vulcan bit back a low growl at the gleam of challenge in those glassy blue eyes.

"You are incorrigible," he muttered, pulling his fingers away from Jim's grasping mouth and curling them around Jim's biceps instead, holding his arms to the mattress as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss against the highest drop of chocolate on Jim's collarbone.

"Yeah," Jim sighed, his exhales tickling the top of Spock's head as he followed the trails of chocolate downwards with his tongue, scraping the rougher surface against Jim's skin and reveling in the soft groans of encouragement that followed.

"Yeah, like that- oh shit, Spock-" Jim's shoulders curled forward automatically, his arms struggling uselessly against Spock's grasp as the Vulcan patiently applied his mouth to his nipple again, his teeth scraping lightly to clean the last of the chocolate away.

"Nnguhhhh," Jim gasped intelligently, his eyes wide and incredulous when Spock glanced up, his tongue flicking out to catch an errant smear at the corner of his mouth.

"Fascinating," Spock stated, shifting his weight around so that Jim was more efficiently pinned beneath him.

Jim groaned at the increased pressure , his arms twitching, and when Spock released him, his hands flew up to clutch at the Vulcan's head, holding him close as Spock renewed his attentions on quivering skin. "You," Jim said, his voice strained and high as Spock sucked a bright red mark above his left pectoral. "Damn…"

He arched helplessly off the bed with a frustrated moan when Spock spread his palms over his hips, holding his lower body down before proceeding to kiss his way down Jim's abdomen. "Spock."

Spock ignored him, and Jim finally noticed the faint flush of green across the tips of those pointy ears, the slight tremor in Spock's hands as they mapped out the skin above his hipbones, pausing to tap at every wayward freckle. Chocolate, Jim thought, with no small sense of satisfaction, before the thought fizzled away to liquid pleasure as Spock licked a broad stripe down the crease of his thigh.

"Shit-" Jim bucked uselessly, accidentally wrenching at Spock's hair, but the Vulcan only glanced up at him once with reproachful eyes before biting the sensitive flesh of Jim's inner leg.

"Come here," Jim demanded breathlessly. "Come here," he repeated, when Spock showed no sign of cooperation. He pulled at the back of Spock's head, reaching down to tug at his arm, until the Vulcan relented and slid back up the length of his torso, burying his face beneath Jim's jaw. His body slotted between Jim's legs in a discoordinated roll that tore a half-coherent curse from Jim, followed by a startled noise when Spock's teeth raked across his skin.

"You- biting-" Jim wheezed. "Spock, I'm gonna-" He hissed in frustration and desperation, groping down to pull Spock's hips hard against his. "Yeah, like that," he panted. "Just like that- shit, Spock-"

"Jim," Spock said, his voice carrying an almost hoarse quality now. His movements were increasing in speed, his hand struggling between their bodies to grasp at the both of them, squeezing just hard enough to take Jim's breath away. "Jim," he muttered again, this time into the crook of his shoulder. He gave one final thrust, stroking up simultaneously and sinking his teeth into the side of Jim's neck, and Jim came with a wordless shout, clutching at Spock's back as the Vulcan stiffened and followed, muffling whatever noise he might have made against Jim's skin.

Spock rolled away all too soon, collapsing on his back beside Jim. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim could see Spock's chest heaving with exertion, only slightly more restrained than his own. Their arms were still touching, and Jim reached down blindly, tangling their fingers together in a loose clasp.

"Holy shit," Jim said, when he'd finally found his voice. He turned his head and grinned dazedly at Spock, who met his gaze with a quirked eyebrow and a small twitch of his mouth. Jim shifted over on his side, ignoring the mess on his stomach and thighs as he threw an arm across Spock's waist.

"Captain?"

"Kinky," Jim murmured automatically, exhaustion finally setting in as his heart rate slowed and his breathing began to even out again. "Sorry, just…..just stay for a bit, okay?" He'd always been a cuddler after sex, preferring the physical intimacy over the emotional. The warmth of another body, unlike empty words and smiles, was much easier to believe in, but this was…...different. This was Spock, and the more Jim thought about it, the more unbelievable the entire scenario was becoming.

"Thanks," he heard himself say, his eyes having closed sometime in the past few seconds without him even noticing. Spock was quiet, but the mattress dipped as the Vulcan rolled over to face him, and Jim felt Spock's face press against the top of his head in a brief kiss that said more than words ever could.

Five more years of this, if they got the mission. And maybe more, he dared to hope. But he'd always taken each day as they came and this moment, right now, was what he'd always wanted and, somehow, more.

It was the only thing he could ask.