Improvisation

ow can I be sure we're not going to be jumped the second I hand over the latinum?"

Sam Clerk, wanted in five systems for illegal trafficking in munitions, as well as a little drug dealing, gave his partner a look, snorted, and began to walk away from the table.

"Sam," Kapok, a relative newcomer to the Trade, with only two warrants for his arrest on record, murmured purposefully.  "The lady has a point."

The lady in question, her sharply pointed ears well-hidden by a fantastic pink, silver and quite un-Romulan hairdo, shot Kapok a narrow glance, then returned her gaze to the hazel eyes of the cocky, insufferable and highly recommended Human standing on the other side of the high table in the darkest corner of a smelly, smoky, and generally quite acceptable saloon.

"With all the accernite in the crates," Clerk explained as though talking to a Pakled, "either of us can kill the other with a phaser set on 'tickle my ass.'"

A slanted eyebrow rose, hovered, and returned to position before the woman, T'Arlmon, slowly nodded.

"I would kill us all before I allowed any of my people to be taken into custody."

Kapok nodded.  "A logical fortitude."

Clerk rolled his eyes.  "Damn Vulcans," he muttered to the woman.

"Half-Vulcan," Kapok corrected.  "My father was a Romulan."

The Romulan ship owner sneered at him.  "Half-breeds," she sighed.  She looked at Clerk.  "And Humans.  What did I do to deserve this?"

"Look, Captain," Clerk said, his voice condescending.  "We'll stick to our cabin and not sully your fine ship for the duration of the trip, all right?"

She curled her lip, but then looked at the scan of the crates that were waiting in storage.  Clerk knew she'd take them to Romulus; she was too greedy to do otherwise.  Not to mention that she had a reputation as being pricey but honorable to maintain.

"Docking Bay Ten," she said.  "Be there at 08:00 with the codes to the storage unit."

"As long as you have the latinum, Captain, I have the time," Clerk said, leering at her a little.

She said something in Romulan that caused Kapok's eyebrow to attempt to climb into his hair line, but Clerk just laughed and said something in Klingon.  T'Arlmon sneered again and stalked away from the table.  Clerk laughed again, then looked at his partner in crime, the man who also happened to be his first officer.

"Romulans," Jim said to Spock, "hate it when someone else gets the last word."

"I see," Spock replied.  "That would explain why she left us with the tab."

Jim laughed once more, though with slightly lessened gusto, as he looked over the bar.  It really was a scuzz-pit, the sort of place even he would avoid, were he not a dangerous pirate-smuggler, looking for work.

He couldn't fault the mission so far.  The self-destruct mechanisms in the crates hadn't caused so much as a blip in the extensive scans T'Arlmon had insisted on running.  The woman's ship was fast and the officials who would clear her to dock at Romulus Station Beta were all veterans at looking the other way.  He and Spock had been taken for nothing but renegade arms dealers...everything was going fine.

And so he looked into his partner's eyes and saw his own worry reflected there.  Everything was going along too fine.

"To superstitions, Kapok?" he asked, raising up his -- what else?  -- Romulan ale with a lazy hand.

Spock nodded and drained his own Altair water, then walked closely behind him as they exited the bar.

At the bottom of Kirk's glass, which was taken by a multi-armed Urgiinion to the kitchen, where it was placed in the trash -- where it was collected by a Dormet scavenger, where it was placed in the garbage bin, where it was emptied into the disposal unit...until it was fished out by a passing street vendor, and then sent directly to the nearest Starbase -- there was a small recorder chip which informed Command that the mission was well in hand.

The docking bay was easily found, and it was somewhat "fascinating" how little attention the two of them drew.

Onboard the Enterprise, they would have started a small riot.  Kirk had let his beard grow just slightly, and there was a faint scar under his chin, as though someone had been a little too careless in holding a knife to his throat.

Spock's hair and skin were the same as always, but his usual cat-like walk was just slightly exaggerated, just a bit more menacing and cautious.

Their clothes were the real deal and then some.  Kirk's warm, durable, and slightly scruffy black jacket, pants and boots all came not out of ship's stores, but from recovered properties on Starbase 12.

Spock's mercenary gray and black tunic, leggings, and cloak came from Vulcan, where they had seen a great deal of wear as well.

Both of them had phasers on display -- slightly outdated but fully operable Starfleet issue; like most criminals, they knew who made the most reliable guns.

T'Arlmon was talking to the docking chief when they strode into view, and with nothing more than a nod to them, she turned to enter her ship.

Kirk looked at Spock, shrugged and followed the Romulan captain, Spock at his heels.

*Oh joy,* Kirk thought as he took his first breath inside the ship. *All the way to Romulus with the smell of Romulan cooking and tired insulation.  This is gonna be fun.*

He remained silent and kept his best poker face on as T'Arlmon showed them around the scruffy ship.  None of the crew seemed to care about housekeeping, but he was reassured to see that the equipment, although aging, looked to be in good shape.

"You'll have to share quarters," their captain said once the tour was over.  She gestured at a narrow door.  "In here."

Kirk looked around the tiny cabin:  two bunks, one table with two flimsy chairs, and a tiny shower/toilet cube.

"Well," he said briskly.  "It's not the Imperial Palace, but I suppose it will have to do."

"Ha, ha," T'Arlmon noted.  "We'll be eating an hour after take off."

"And take-off occurs at what time?" Spock asked politely.

"Whenever we get clearance," she snapped.  She turned to go, but then turned back to look at Kirk.  "You don't have to stay in your cabin as long as you don't get in anyone's way or get into trouble."

"Us?" he asked, looking innocent.  "Get into trouble?  Please, Captain, we know better." He smiled at her warmly, and she rolled her eyes and strode off down the corridor.

"Sam," Spock said quietly.  "I don't think you're her type."

"I could be, you never know," Kirk replied.  He looked around the tiny room.  "Let's stow our gear."

Spock nodded.  They had only their packs, which held only clothing and innocuous-looking equipment.  Their cover required them to be more charming -- or at least amiable -- than truly rough and tough. They were merchants, after all, with a reputation to maintain.

Still, Spock was still somewhat uneasy with Kirk's manner.  He had the suspicion that his captain was enjoying the "change of pace."  And he was certain that Jim was watching everything so carefully not only to make his report complete, but to hoard up amusing stories.

He wished, hardly for the first time, that Jim Kirk weren't quite so...Jim Kirkian.

*Illogical,* he thought, but when he turned to look at his companion, he saw just what he thought he would:  hazel eyes speculatively wandering over the closed door.

"It wouldn't hurt, Spock, to have a little extra incentive from our...driver."

"Captain, while your prowess with women cannot be disputed, I doubt you will in this instance be successful."

"Oh?"  Of course, the captain was taking it as a challenge.

Spock nodded, his hands clasped at rest behind his back.  "She wears the insignia of the Tal A'Kir, an order which is opposed to sexual relations outside of those sanctioned by the Governing Order."

Kirk frowned.  "Which governing order?  You mean of Romulus?"

"I mean the Governing Order of the Tal A'Kir.  It is, for want of a better word, a cult gaining popularity among certain Romulan sects."

"What sort of sects?"

Spock raised en eyebrow.  Was this true curiosity, or just information to help him plan his campaign?  Either way, it was only logical to answer directly.  "Generally, those who have found sexual favor outside the Romulan mainstream."

Kirk grinned.  "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes.  Homosexuals, those who pursue auto-erotic asphyxiation, and pain specialists, for example."

Kirk ungrinned.

"Well, that might be useful," the captain said crisply, and went back to stowing the last of his things, all of them designed to support their cover.

Spock raised an eyebrow at his captain's back, but remained silent, unpacking his own things neatly and efficiently.  When they were done, Kirk looked around.

"We're going to see too much of this place as it is; shall we go stay out of trouble?"

Spock nodded and gestured at the door, using a gesture he'd seen McCoy use more than once.  "After you," he said.

"You know, I wonder what Bones would say if he knew you were imitating him in order to look less Vulcan."

"I doubt the doctor would be flattered."

"Oh he might be," Kirk replied as they headed out the door.  "Just don't acquire a taste for mint juleps."

"I am allergic to mint," Spock noted dryly.

They roamed the ship, doing their best to stay out of everyone's way.  Once more, Kirk had to admit to a grudging respect for the crew.  Although a seemingly motley bunch, they obviously took great pride in their jobs and he felt strangely at home here.

*If only,* he thought as they left the engine room, *more Romulans were like this.  Then again, maybe they are.  We just don't know enough about them.*

T'Arlmon's Pride was a small ship and even the most dedicated wanderer couldn't make a stroll last all that long.  Kirk thought about sticking his head through the bridge doors, but then he heard the impulse engines come alive and decided against it.  He looked at Spock.

"The mess?"

"It would be preferable to our cabin," Spock agreed.

The mess, which also seemed to function as a very limited rec room, was empty when they arrived.  Spock looked around and then turned to Kirk.

"I would not have thought to find a chess set here," he said.

"Chess?" Kirk asked, his face brightening.  He looked around and grinned.  "Thank God.  Now let's just hope all the pieces are here."

As it was, they had to use a spice shaker as the black Queen and an Orion coin as one of the white Pawns, but soon they were settled in at the board, making their opening moves.

"I wonder if perhaps someone has tried to discourage this activity onboard by appropriating the pieces," Spock mused as he watched Jim move his pawn to king's level one.

"Why would anyone object to the crew's playing chess?"  Kirk narrowed his eyes as Spock moved an answering pawn.

Spock was playing it safe, which always meant trouble.

"Perhaps to prevent outbreaks."

"Chess riots?"

The eyebrow lifted.  "Romulans are a passionate people."

"Thinking of picking up a few tricks here, Kapok?"

"One studies the terrain of an alien environment even when one has no intention of aping its behavior."  Spock watched Jim castle.  The captain was playing conservatively, which meant there was a high percent of probability that he had something deceptive in mind.

"Still, learning a few choice curses wouldn't hurt.  And this time we don't even have to kill each other."

Spock was not quite able to suppress the memory of pain.  He knew Jim was only meaning to joke about the time he had had to pretend to kill his captain in order to provide him with cover for his theft of the Romulan cloaking device.  But there was too much there for him when it came to killing Jim:  that one unforgettable, insane day when he had believed his had killed James Kirk in the darkness of the plak tow.

He looked to his companion, but Jim was looking at his own hands, pretending he hadn't noticed anything was wrong.  Unlike everyone else, Jim had no need to gloat over Spock's flashes of emotion.  Jim...understood.

"Our continued existence will be looked upon favorably by our employers," Spock noted, pleased that his voice was quite dry.

Nevertheless, Kirk won the game, and the game after that.  But Spock won the last game before they went to their small cabin for a night of meditation and sleep.

The next day passed in much the same way, with long games of chess interrupted by odd-tasting Romulan meals.  Kirk didn't try to chat up the crew members too much once he realized they all wore the badge of the Tal A'Kir

He wondered about that.  Did the Romulans actually have laws governing sexuality?  Or were there simply extremely heavy traditions against which these people fought?  He asked Spock about it that night, but the Vulcan couldn't give him much more information.

"Damn!  I wish we knew more about the Romulans."

"Indeed," Spock agreed.  "On this short trip, we will undoubtedly double our knowledge about their culture."

"How much like Vulcans are they?" Kirk asked after a pause, then hurried on.  "I mean, like pre-reformation Vulcans."

Spock resisted the vague urge to sigh.  "We do not really know.  Or, to be more accurate, I do not know.  Romulans are not...discussed on Vulcan."

Kirk stared at the bunk above him, hearing the faintest tone of disapproval in Spock's voice.  *Poor Spock,* he thought, not for the first time.  *He hates, as much as he can, that conservative streak.*  And doubtlessly Spock resented his own lack of knowledge. Kirk changed the subject.

The next morning, as they started yet another chess game, the second shift pilot wandered into the mess.  After getting a cup of tea from the perpetually brewing pot, she wandered over to watch the game.

"The S'Kathian Opening?"

"We call it the Scylla Opening," Kirk said.

"Really?  Well, I don't like it much.  Too confident."

"Too confident?" Spock asked.

"Not sneaky enough," she explained, settling down to watch the game.

Kirk, who had grown used to an audience during chess games, watched her during Spock's moves.

She seemed to be as interested in Spock as she was in the game, which was saying a lot, for she watched the game avidly.  Both players were playing aggressively and, Kirk had to admit, fairly straightforwardly.

He enjoyed playing chess with Spock for many reasons, and one of the chief ones was the way they played with the tactics in any given game.  There was an unspoken agreement between them that being limited to one style was, well, limiting.

The pilot remained through the game and was joined by one of the engineers as the board was set up for the next game.  As soon as they started, both Romulans looked surprised.

"You don't see that move often," the engineer said.

"I certainly didn't expect it," the pilot replied to him.  She looked at Spock and then at Kirk.  "Maybe you two are sneaky."

Kirk couldn't tell if it were that one chess game or the fact that their trip was long and boring, but, for whatever reason, they ended up with attentive audiences during most of their games.  They offered to relinquish the chess set to the crew more than once, only to be turned down each time.  "We've all played too many games against each other," the first officer explained one evening.  "You two are better than a new vid."

It surprised Kirk that he never grew tired of playing chess with Spock.  On the Enterprise, they always had to work to get time to play.  It was a rare luxury to spend the evenings at the game, talking in code to his friend.

And the luxury lasted until he began to feel he was on vacation.

Of course, there were hours and hours when they had to find something else to do with their time.  Spock spent a great deal of it in meditation, while Kirk roamed the ship.

He was greatly relieved Spock had given him an indication of what to expect with the Romulan crew.  It was odd, somehow, to deal with male homosexual Romulans.  For some reason, the women he found touching in the dark corners didn't bother him quite as much.

"No,* he thought, *I'm not bothered, it's just...odd."

There were, in the end, only five people who really gave him troubles.  Three were a "couple," and they were definitely into pain.  The others said nothing about the bruises and blood, but he found it hard not to stare.

The other two...

It was hard to describe, even to himself.  They, both of them men, just gave him the screaming willies.

He would have asked Spock about them, but it wasn't fair.  Besides, neither of those men came to watch the chess games.

When the day came at last that they would be making their rendezvous, Kirk was surprised at his disappointment.  He had just begun to feel that he was really learning something about Romulans here.

*I'm no culturalist,* he told himself firmly as he and Spock packed their gear.  *They're not what I expected them to be.  That's enough of a lesson for today.*

"Sam," Spock said quietly while he re-checked for forgotten items and Spock, his pack neatly arranged, stood at loose attention.  "You seem distracted.  Is all well?"

"Just going to miss our hosts, Kapok."

"Indeed?" Spock was looking at him curiously a moment, then the usual mask returned.  "I would have thought you would only be eager for our business to be completed."

Kirk shrugged and picked up his pack.  "That too."

Their "business" was being conducted not on Romulus itself, but on a small orbiting satellite.  *At least I can look out the window and see the planet itself,* Kirk thought as they moved to the transporter room.  *McCoy'll be so jealous."

They transported into a small alcove facing the bar T'Arlmon had recommended.  Kirk felt a little strange as he realized the Tal A'Kir symbol faint but visible on the bar's sign.  *People are going to think that we're...*  Annoyed with himself, he shook it off.  *Who cares?*

"Let's get rooms and then look around," he said, his voice a little brusque in spite of himself.

Spock raised an eyebrow, but asked no questions as they headed off down a corridor.  *Thank God for Vulcan tact.*

He had more reason to appreciate it a few hours later.  They'd had to produce their papers close to a dozen times between renting a cheap room and making their way to the bar.

Fortunately, their papers were the best money could buy, and Spock's attitude of weary patience helped offset Kirk's slight nervousness.  By the time a pair of the local constabulary checked their papers just outside the bar door, Kirk was almost blasé about the procedure.

Once inside the bar, they ordered their drinks and retired to a table that afforded them a view of the room.  "Now," Kirk said, sighing a little, "we wait."

"How will you know our contact?" Spock asked.

Kirk smiled a little.  Spock knew the answer, and was speaking for any listeners.

"I won't.  He'll know us."

Two rounds later, a gaunt Romulan slipped into the empty chair at their table.

"We don't see too many Humans around here," he said.

Kirk shrugged.

"You have names?"

"Sam," Kirk said.  The Romulan looked surprised.  "Just Sam," Kirk said, his voice hardening a little.

"Kapok," Spock said when the man turned to him.

"We see even fewer Vulcans."

"I am not surprised," Spock replied quietly.

The man stared at him and suddenly laughed.  "So," he asked.  "What are you looking to do, buy or sell?"

"We only sell," Kirk said, making it sound a little like an insult.  This guy gave off some of the same vibes he had gotten from the pain-lovers.  No visible bruises, though.

Damn, all this sex talk was making him jumpy.

And suddenly, thoroughly, Jim Kirk wanted to laugh.

So what if he were sitting in a deviant bar with his first officer?  What if everyone thought they were doing it?  Since when did a little slap and tickle break his stride?

"Maybe you don't know all that's for sale around here," the Romulan contact said with an oily half-smile.

"This is a business trip," Kirk snapped, "and we've come a long way, and arranged for some important people to come a long way, for us to sit around here while you piss in the wind."

Their contact backed off a bit.  "I'll need to check out a sample before I go any farther with this." He raised a hand.  "The people I work for will kill me if I bother them without making sure it's worth it."

Kirk nodded.  "Fair enough.  The shipment sample will arrive tomorrow, early.  We'll meet here afterwards and...show what we've got."    The man nodded, then stood up from the table and walked away.

"Not much on ceremony here," Kirk muttered.

"I believe we would not be interested in his sort of ceremony," Spock replied.

"No kidding," Kirk replied, lifting his glass.  "This is all a little…weird," he added.

 Spock nodded.  "While I would not put it quite that way, I find myself in agreement with you."

Spock looked around the bar,  noticing that people were settling in and looking toward a curtained alcove.  He could smell just a hint of sandalwood incense on the air and, as he turned to look at Kirk, the captain looked right at him.

"I think it's about to get a whole lot weirder," Kirk said.  "Let's get the hell out of here."

Spock gestured toward the door.  "After you."

Sometime later, Kirk listened to the sound of the running shower from his bed in their room.  He couldn't remember where he'd heard about Vulcans and sandalwood, but the rumors seemed to have some truth to them.  Spock had keyed in a rather large amount of money in order to have a very long and very hot shower.  *How the hell,* the captain wondered, *am I going to write this mission report?*

He thought about Starfleet Intelligence’s reading a detailed account of their trip to Romulus and the encounter in the bar and soon he was chuckling.  He knew he wouldn't do it, but the temptation to exaggerate things a little was strong.  *Shake things up a bit at HQ,* he mused.  *They need it, those overfed paper-pushers.*

By the time Spock got out of the shower, his captain was asleep, dreaming of purple-faced admirals.

Spock, moving quietly in his own bed, noted the look of dreamy amusement on his captain's face, and was certain of the cause.

It was...uncomfortable that the Captain had seen him at such a disadvantage.  It was nothing, of course, compared to the discomfort that he would have experienced if the Doctor had been present.  And yet, it was worse in its own way.

McCoy would make some sort of Human emotional commentary, but then he would let the matter drop.  One thing about Leonard, no matter had badly off Spock had sometimes found himself in front of McCoy, the doctor did not store up such memories.  He didn't let them...a Human word was needed..."fester."

James Kirk would never forget this evening, and though he would keep it to himself, it would be there, between them...like so many other unspoken things.

*It is illogical to speculate on such matters when I am experiencing fatigue.*  It was time to meditate.

And yet he did not move immediately to bed.  Kirk was moving just slightly in his sleep, as though his amusement followed him into dreams.  In the eight years that he had known his captain, and in the almost-eight years that he had been the captain's to command, Spock had never done this.  He had never stood in the middle of a darkened room and watched the man chuckle to himself in sleep.

*The effects of the sandalwood have not yet entirely dissipated.*  It was definitely time to meditate.

Quietly, concentrating on his own economic silence, Spock let his body move to his bed and kneel down upon it.  His breathing steadied, slowed, grew perfectly regular.  His mind soothed down his muscles, allowed his body to become an extension of his thoughts, and his thoughts an extension of his intellect, freed from reactions to outside stimulus.  He could feel his disquiet at their mission, the disruption of so many powerful, undisciplined minds around them.  He could feel, dimly, the movement of the cosmos, the unity of being that came from the continuum of thought and body.

Inside, he grew still.

And, in his fashion, he slept.

Kirk woke first, wishing desperately for a cup of coffee.  Romulan tea, while loaded with the local equivalent of caffeine, just wasn't the same.

He checked the time -- still quite early -- and then looked over at the other bed.  Spock was lying on it, curled neatly on his side, and Jim was reminded of something his own mother had once said about sleeping children.  He chuckled quietly at the thought of anyone calling Spock a "little angel."

If Bones were here, he'd make some wise-ass remark about sleeping devils, but Kirk, for all he missed his friend, was rather glad McCoy wasn't with them.  The good doctor didn't always confine his teasing to Spock, and Kirk still felt plenty odd about last night.  Bones, who was nothing if not observant, would notice and nudge him a little to get him to talk it through.

Shaking his head at the thought of trying to explain any of this little excursion to McCoy, Kirk climbed quietly out of bed and headed for the shower.

Spock woke to the sound of running water.  Even after all the years away from home, it was still somewhat...disconcerting to hear a shower running.  He thought of his own long shower the night before, admitting to himself that it was even more unusual for him to get so used to showering.  Last night, however, it had been…logical.

He set aside the thought and quickly got dressed.

By the time Kirk emerged from the shower, half-dressed and vigorously toweling his hair dry, Spock had completed a thorough scan of their room.

"Anything?" the captain asked.

"We are not being monitored, nor are there any unusual security measures in the network station."

Kirk looked at the “hotel’s” small desk and its hardware.  "Looks pretty primitive," he commented.

"Indeed, even by Romulan standards."

Kirk laughed.  "Well, this is a cheap hotel, we can only expect the basics.  Anyway, you've done far more with far worse, Mr. Spock.  Will you need anything more to start looking for the information we need?"

"That, Captain, remains to be seen."

During the conversation, Kirk had finished getting dressed.  Now he combed his hair, and headed toward the door.  "I'll go scare up some breakfast, and leave you to it."

Spock nodded, already entering requests into the network station.  Kirk was used to the way his first officer got when trying to solve a puzzle, and he smiled to himself as he headed out the door.  Give Spock a complicated assignment like this and he was in his element, not noticing, or at least not seeming to notice the world around him.

And this was a pretty complicated assignment, using a standard network station to hack into the station's security files and, hopefully, from there to the Romulan central security net.  Kirk mentally shrugged.  If anyone could do it...

Kirk couldn't help thinking about a time he had done this before, leaving Spock to his work in a "primitive" environment while he went out to get them something to eat.  He'd give a lot right now for some bread and bologna, to say nothing of  a beer for the evening.  But while Spock dug through the Romulan public computer systems for anything on the bio-weapons, he would be lucky to find so much as a bread roll, let alone some bacon and eggs.

If what he saw here on the station were any indication, he wouldn't like Romulus, and he wasn't at all uncomfortable with that dislike.  The camaraderie he'd enjoyed on T'Arlmon's ship wasn't in evidence here.  The people walked and talked and looked like they lived in a police state.  They avoided looking at each other, moving quickly, almost furtively about in the dim corridors.  When Kirk came out of the turbolift platform without looking to his left and accidentally brushed against an old woman with an armful of clothes, he couldn't even get her to pause so he could apologize.  Her hunched form simply continued on its way, quickly, before she was noticed.

The air was thick, too, and a little smoky, the way a Klingon ship was, with a somewhat similar smell.  It was all gray and flat and unpainted metal and horribly depressing.

He found a small stall next to the bar and bought tired-looking fruit, some sort of juice, a couple of hard rolls and some sort of dried meat.  Spock would have to find vegetables somewhere else.  Nothing in the abbreviated selection was green.

"Papers," a voice behind him demanded, and Kirk turned to see a pair of Romulan guards scowling at him.

pock felt no excitement at the clearance he was granted after a few root-command codes, but he was satisfied by his access.  There was little, however, in the database on the weapons:  only a few interdepartmental memos on the disposition of finances for something called Purity Implementation.

He would not even have known the memos regarded the bio-weapons, in fact, if it weren't for the keywords "atmospheric dissipation" and "compound disintrification" for which he had been warned to look.

The captain's tread outside the door was a welcome sound.

"I hope you're hungry, Mr. Spock."

"Indeed, Captain."

"I had more for us, actually, but some had to be sacrificed to the local tax system."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but let the comment pass, eating his share of the fruit and bread.  The juice was actually quite palatable, though Jim wrinkled his nose and gladly let him drink almost all of it.  Spock made a note to find something Jim would like at another time.

*Something besides the local ale.*

"So," Kirk asked when they'd finished their breakfast.  "Anything?"

"Some information, but not much."  Spock handed his tricorder (which only *looked* several years out of date) over to Kirk.

"Purity Implementation," Kirk said a few minutes later.  "I don't like the sound of that."  He sighed and stared off into the distance for a moment or two.  "It sounds almost like an internal security matter.  I wonder what kind of purity they're trying to implement?  Racial purity?"

"Unlikely," Spock replied.  "The Romulans already have a rigorous racial purity policy.  Mixed marriages are not allowed, and the children born inside the Empire from clandestine mixed relationships are usually captured and raised by the state."

"Some sort of genetic purity?"  Spock couldn't help noticing  the note of distaste that crept into the captain's voice.  Earth's own experiments with genetic purity and eugenics in general were still a little too recent for any Human to be comfortable with the idea of a government genetics program.

"So it would seem, Captain," he said quietly.

Kirk shot him a grateful look and then turned his attention to the matter at hand.  "Well, if it's internal, then Starfleet Intelligence has their undies in a bunch over nothing.  Although I suppose it could be modified later and used against us.  Have you tried getting into Internal Security?"

"Briefly," Spock replied.  "Any more will take some time, as the Tal Shi'ar is somewhat more sophisticated than military security."

Kirk ran through what little he knew of the Romulan government system.

"How about government-sponsored medical treatment?  If these are bio-weapons, they have to be testing them somewhere; who better than the poor?"

Spock raised an eyebrow.  "An excellent if depressing suggestion, Captain."  He turned back to the network station, entering rapid commands.

"I wish I didn't know enough of my own planet's history to be able to make that suggestion," Kirk muttered.

"There appears to be a sudden boon in the fortunes of the State Hospital of Wekil'ma, a small village in the Southern Continent."  Spock entered in a few more commands, then suddenly cut the connection.

"Someone notice you?" Kirk asked.

"No, but the possibility of detection was imminent."  Spock turned to face him, his dark eyes focusing inward.

"The population of such a small, rural environment should not support the figures we saw, Captain.  I would hazard that some sort of clandestine work is being done there, though it is not necessarily biological testing."

Kirk nodded.  "We'll put it in the report.”

Spock's eyes re-focused.  His captain was in distress, and he raised his eyebrows to let the man know that he knew.

"It's just...so similar.  Nothing changes, Kapok."

"It is only logical that Humanoid races evolve along similar lines, Sam.  It is not logical to assume that such similarities prevent the advent of change."

Kirk smiled and put his hand lightly on Spock's warm shoulder.

"Quite logical, my friend."

It was almost time for their meeting with their contact.  Both of them checked their weapons and their hair, looked around the room for anything missed, then left.

Kirk felt oddly as though he were on display as they headed toward the bar.  It wasn't just the ever-present pairs of guards; there was something else going on as well.

T'Arlmon was supposed to have had a small sample of the "goods" dropped off with the bartender, something that was apparently standard enough procedure that no one would be surprised.  Still, something nagged at Kirk.

"Sam?" Spock asked quietly, at a point where they were out of earshot of any guards.  "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," Kirk said.  "I just don't know what it is."

If Spock were the frowning type, Kirk's words would have produced a frown.  The captain had an almost uncanny habit of knowing when things weren't quite right, and Spock could feel himself becoming even more alert.

"Should we avoid the pickup?"

Kirk grimaced.  "We can't.  If we do, we'll have both our contact's people and T'Arlmon's people looking for us."  He frowned.  "I don't think *she* or any of her people would have alerted the authorities, but that guy in the bar last night might have."  He looked around and shrugged.  "Nothing to do, I guess, but be prepared."

"Yes, sir," Spock replied calmly.

Kirk was grateful for that calm, as well as for the Vulcan's presence at his side.  If he had to go into a tight situation, he could think of no one better to watch his back.  He looked around; they had come to the bar.

A deep breath, and then he let it out and nodded to Spock.  "Shall we?"

That faint ghost of a smile he'd seen on a few occasions flickered across Spock's face.  "After you."

Kirk's sense of danger went up a notch as they strolled nonchalantly into the bar.  He glanced around quickly, taking in the crowd (small), the exits (few) and the mood (tense).

"Can I help you, boys?" the bartender asked.  It wasn't the same bartender as last night and there was something off about this man.  It took a second, but then Kirk realized that the bartender was hardly looking at either of them, whereas the one last night had given them both a once-over and Kirk a twice-over.

"That depends," Spock said, startling Kirk a little.  He watched in surprise as his companion leaned against the bar with that feline grace Kirk had only seen on a few occasions.  "What exactly is your definition of ‘help?’"

The bartender blanched, and that was enough for Kirk.

"No," he said firmly.  "You can't help us."

His hand was already moving toward his phaser, and in the corner of his eye he could see Spock tense up like a coiled spring.  "Let's blow this joint," Kirk muttered.

They turned as one from the bar, only to be confronted with five Romulan guards with disruptors drawn.

Kirk still would have resisted, if only to keep his pride intact, but the closest guard had his disruptor trained on Spock's heart -- down along his left side, and seemed to be salivating at the idea of killing a Vulcan.

He spread his hands, and Spock stood quietly as the guards approached.  Their weapons were taken -- but not, fortunately, examined too closely -- and restraints were put around their wrists.

None of the Romulan civilians passing by looked at them, and Kirk fought off a wave of depression.  *What a horrible place to die in.*

It was a quick, steady march into a heavily guarded section of the station, and Kirk worked hard to keep all those stern, dark, angular faces from fading together in his memory.  He marked the turns they made and the doors they passed and knew that Spock did as well.

At one point, they were made to stand against a wall and look into some sort of viewscreen.  A thin shiver of light over their bodies betrayed that they were being recorded and examined.  It wouldn't be long before their identities were confirmed.

*But it won't be immediate, either.  We might still have some time here.*

After the journey to get there, the two small holding cells into which they were separately thrown seemed anti-climactic.

Kirk tested the door of the small cell more out of a sense of obligation than anything else.  He didn't expect to be able to break out, but you never knew…

No dice.  The door held fast and he had a pretty good idea that a certain dark spot in a corner of the cell was a security camera.  His chance would come later, if the guards brought food, or came to transfer them to a different cell, or even to Romulus.  He frowned at the thought.

A transfer to Romulus would be their best chance to escape.  It would mean that the Romulans knew who he and Spock really were, and that the Tal Shi’ar (among others) would want to keep them both very much alive.  Either he and Spock could escape, or, if escape seemed totally impossible, they could go down fighting and not end up in the hands of Romulan interrogators.

*Well, this is a cheerful train of thought, Jim,* he told himself.  *Any more upbeat ideas?*

He'd been in dozens of prisons and he had survived or escaped them all.  Of course, his chances would be better if Spock were in the cell with him.  He wondered how to persuade their captors to house them together.

It wasn't that he thought he couldn't take care of himself, of course.  It was just that...Well, his own crazy schemes seemed to work much better when Spock was around to help him fine-tune them.  They were both cunning, but while Kirk knew he could be subtle, he also knew that Spock could be far more subtle.  *Sneaky and Sneakier,* he thought, this time smiling a little.

A strange noise drew his attention away from his plotting and into Spock's cell.  The Vulcan seemed to be in some sort of distress, and was leaning forward slightly, his hands on his knees.

Kirk strained to hear -- was that Vulcan Spock was whispering?  The Romulan guard who'd stayed to watched them straightened abruptly, and stepped towards Spock's cell.

As if he were...embarrassed, perhaps, Spock stood up straight and frowned at the guard.  But Kirk could see a thin film of sweat on his friend's face.

"Kapok!" he called out, not needing to add any more anxiety into his voice than what he genuinely felt.  "Are you all right?"

"I am well, Sam."  Spock seemed to be talking to the guard, his gaze not straying from that glaring Romulan face.  "I perhaps...require a glass of water."

"Kapok?  If something's wrong..."  Since when did Spock ask for a glass of water?  Never.  So this *was* an act, wasn't it?  Still, the Vulcan did not look good.

The guard sneered something at Spock that Kirk didn't understand.  Spock stiffened and turned from him, almost staggering as he made his way to the other side of the cell.

"Kapok!"  Kirk had his fists around the bars now, and was shaking them slightly.  Nothing gave, and nothing here was going to give except his own bones.  He made his own face into a fierce glare.  "Guard!  I want to check on my friend!"

Spock swayed, as though he were feeling dizzy, and abruptly sat on the floor.

"Guard!  He's obviously unwell!  I'll still be locked up, for God's sake, man!"

The guard walked over to Kirk's cell with a puzzled deliberation, his eyes moving over Kirk's form oddly, as though searching for something.  Kirk braved the look, and the change of expression which follow.  The guard was sneering at him, and seemed ever-so-slightly revolted.  Then, without warning, he laughed.

"The Council will be pleased to know what we've caught here, I think."

"If you think we're valuable, then you'd better make sure we're healthy when you turn us over to your Council," Kirk told him, his chin coming up slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur.

"Indeed," the Romulan sneered, eyebrow raised.  "Though it might be interesting to see..."  But the guard threw off the thought and trained his weapon on Kirk while he called for a fellow guard.  When he entered, the two guards exchanged a few words, shared a harsh, biting laugh, and then moved to let Kirk out of his cell and into Spock's.

Kirk was at Spock's side in an instant.

"Kapok?"

The haunted face turned towards him, and away from the guards.

"I am well, Sam.  You should touch my shoulder, and speak very softly, as though you were soothing me."

Frowning, Jim complied, speaking nonsense words of comfort while the guards laughed again and left them pretty much alone by wandering down the corridor.  Kirk knew then that cameras were watching them, and continued to talk, stroking Spock's arm very lightly, as though calming a frightened horse.

"You will have to forgive my subterfuge, Sam," Spock said very softly, "but this was all I could think of which would suffice."

"Feigning illness?"

"I am not exactly pretending to be ill."

"What then?"

"I have displayed signs the guards would recognize."

"Signs of what?"

Spock actually shifted slightly, as though uncomfortable, and Kirk prepared himself for the worst.

"I have evidenced the distress associated with the onset of blood fever."

Kirk almost laughed.

Fortunately he controlled it.  He'd faked all sorts of things to get out of prisons before and this was hardly the worst of them.  He was glad he hadn't laughed, of course.  He could tell that, under Spock's pretense of the first symptoms of Pon Farr, his first officer was as embarrassed as he ever was about anything.

For a second he remembered a tense, uncomfortable conversation they'd once held over this matter, and tightened his grip on Spock's shoulders.  "We'll get through it," he murmured, both to the watching cameras and to Spock.

"Sam," Spock said, his voice harsh,  "I'm sorry.  I thought we had time..."

"Forget that," Kirk replied.  "It was probably the company we've been keeping or something."

Spock arched an eyebrow at that, looking towards the guards as a look of speculation played briefly across his face.  He buried his head in Kirk's neck and whispered, "This is beginning to make more sense."

Kirk said nothing of any substance as he settled into a more comfortable position with his back against the cell wall.  He pulled Spock close and then glanced at the guards as well.  They were now at the end of the corridor, still within sight, but not within the reach of a soft whisper.  They also had their backs to the two prisoners, turning to look at them only once in a while.

"They're not too wild about having a pair of alien perverts in here, are they?" Kirk said, his mouth pressed against one pointed ear.

"Romulans are not known for their tolerance of anything unusual, let alone something they find unnatural."

For a moment, Kirk almost forgot their act.  While he had never had a male lover, nor had he ever really wanted one, he'd never had any problems with people who did.  It was just one of those things that was different about everyone and you thought nothing of it.  "Unnatural?" he growled.

Spock shifted slightly in his arms, settling his head against Kirk's shoulder.  "Something they brought with them from Vulcan," he replied.  "Tolerance was merely one of Surak's messages that the Romulans' ancestors did not wish to hear."

"Hence the Tal A'Kir,' Kirk said, admiring T'Arlmon and her people even more now.

"And the mysterious project,"  Spock answered immediately.  "I believe the Imperial Government is trying to practice something that is essentially a cross between eugenics and biological warfare."

Kirk said nothing for a long moment.  He had dropped his head to rest on top of Spock's sleek black hair and now he frowned.

"Damn.  There's nothing we can do, is there?"

Spock remained silent.

"Damn," Kirk said again.  'We have *got* to get out of here."  He almost jumped as Spock pressed himself closer.  "What's the time frame we're working with here?"

"Simply being close like this will suffice for some time," Spock replied.  "Before we need do anything more, the Romulans will know who we really are.  I would give us an hour, maybe two."

"Then we don't want to make this 'suffice,'" Kirk growled, smoothing a touch along Spock's waist while trying very hard not to think about what he was doing.  It was really all just too strange.  He hoped he wasn't suffocating this touch-telepath with emotions.  "If we can manage it, we need to get out of this cell before they realize who we are.  As long as we're just two perverted smugglers, they won't be sending everything they've got after us."

Spock's hand trailed down his back, and Kirk was slightly horrified at the shiver this produced.  *God, I'm sorry about this Spock.*  Still, it *had* been Spock's idea -- suggested, no doubt indeed, by the company they had been keeping.  *Good thing we didn't hitch a ride with Satan-worshippers, I suppose.*

"What do you have in mind, Sam?"

"Well, how long could it be before you could believably go into...uh...real must?"

"You  wish me to initiate a bonding ritual in this cell?"

"No.  No.  I was thinking you could...you know, grab at me a little."

He didn't have to look to know Spock's eyebrow was climbing north.  "Grab at you?"

"Well, they won't let us actually do anything in here, right?  If I started yelling for help, and they believed you were about to throw me to the floor and have your way with me, they'd have to let us out, right?  They'd probably want to sedate you, and we could get the jump on them."

"They might simply attempt to stun me without opening the cell."

"Wouldn't that be risky?"

Spock considered, pressing his lips lightly to the pulse-point of Kirk's neck.

Kirk started slightly.  "Uh, Spock?  I'm kinda sensitive there."

"My apologies, Sam."  Spock pulled back slightly.  "I believe another five minutes would be sufficient to make a pretense of the kind you have suggested.  However, you do realize I will have to be...convincing?"

Kirk sighed.  "You know, this is just about the strangest situation we've ever been in...except, I guess, for that time I was in Janice Lester's body and you had to meld with me to believe I was me."

"The incident in which you were brainwashed into believing you were in love with Helen Noel was also of a highly peculiar nature."

Kirk thought a moment -- which was somehow very difficult to do while Spock ran his fingertips through his hair.  "Well, the time when we had to go get your brain back from the central processing unit was a little strange."

Spock seemed to consider this, and Kirk felt him lean into his body, holding him at the waist.  *It's getting warm in here.*

"I believe at this moment you should attempt to leave my embrace.  I will then soothe you with some touches, then, as you have described it, 'grab at you.'  At that point you should yell for the guards."

"Right."

Jim leaned away from Spock then, and the Vulcan almost let him go.  Spock's arms came up at the last moment to stop him, his grip quite powerful.

"Kapok," Kirk said clearly.  "I realize this is difficult for you, but we have to remember where we are.  We're in enough trouble as it is!"

"Hush, t'hy'la," Spock soothed, his hands moving down Kirk's arms until he held the Human hands in his own.  Spock's thumbs stroked lightly over their backs, and Kirk felt something like sunlight seep into his nerves.

“Kapok," Kirk said, letting his voice waver a little.  "I really don't think..."  He stopped in mid-sentence as Spock turned his hands over and began caressing the palms.

"You don't need to think, Sam," that deep voice said.  "No thinking, no words, no distance, just the Bond."

Kirk gulped and, to him, it echoed in the tiny cell.  He struggled to remember what he was supposed to be doing here, what he was supposed to be feeling.  As Spock's hands once more trailed up his arms, the struggle to remember got harder.  *Damnit!  What's going on here?*

He finally remembered their act and pulled away from Spock a little.  "Too soon," he said.  "It's too...this isn't the right place for this."

Spock reacted instantly to his movement, moving with his usual sure, smooth strength.  Kirk found himself on the floor of the cell, his friend both above him and over him.  Things seemed to be getting dark around the edges of his vision and his blood was singing in his ears.

And then it happened.

Spock moved a little, his lean hip brushing over Kirk's erection.

*Oh shit!  Oh no, this isn't happening.*

For a moment his mind just shut down.  He wanted to sink through the floor.  He wanted to shove Spock away and put as much difference between them as possible.  He wanted...Oh God, he wanted this moment, this hot strong moment, to go on forever.

Then reality came crashing back, and his eyes flew open to find Spock's dark eyes regarding him with his own emotions reflected there.  It was almost as if he could *feel* his friend's profound embarrassment, his worry and, yes, his longing.  "Damnit, Kapok!" Kirk snapped, barely remembering the alias in time.  "Not here!"

"I can't..." Spock whispered, and a little part of Kirk's mind wondered what it would be like to really inspire that much need, to be the focus of such an intense desire.

He squashed the thought and rolled out from under Spock.  He shouldn't have been able to get away that easily and, for a moment, as Spock's hands tightened briefly on his arms, Kirk thought he was going to have to really struggle.  Then he was free and moving up to the bars.

"Guards!  Guards, he needs help!"

The guards moved closer.  "You're the one who wanted to help him, pretty Human," one of them growled.  The other one just sneered.

"Look," Kirk said, thinking fast.  At least he didn't have to pretend to be embarrassed.  "It's too soon...something triggered it and it's not going to...I can't..."  He looked away.  "It's too soon and he'll die because I'm not ready," he whispered.

The door to the cell block opened and Kirk looked up to see the duty officer approaching.  He'd been the only other guard they'd seen in the holding block after their initial captors had gone away.  Kirk held his breath, unable to believe their luck.

"Is he really dying, Human?" the officer snapped.

Kirk nodded, trying to look miserable.  "Look at him yourself," he said.

The officer looked at Spock, who had very quietly curled up on one side and was now shuddering.  His breath came in harsh pants and he looked awful.  Even Kirk, who knew it was an act, felt a faint twinge of worry.

"Against the wall," the officer snapped.  He nodded when Kirk put his back against the wall, and one of the guards unlocked the cell.  The officer moved forward, obviously confident that he and his men were more than a match for a Vulcan in heat  and his Human lover.

*Fucking arrogant asshole,* Kirk thought.

The officer reached just the right point and, suddenly, several things happened at once.

Spock uncoiled like a cobra striking, his hand lashing out to grab the officer's collar.  At the same time, Kirk whirled and kicked one of the guards in the stomach.  When his movement brought him around, he landed a solid blow to the other guard's jaw, watching as the Romulan staggered and, more importantly, dropped his disrupter.

After a few more moments of scuffling confusion, Kirk and Spock were in possession of the Romulans' weapons and three of their former captors were locked in the cell.

Of course, there was nothing on this end they could do about the observeilence equipment, so they wasted no time in running out of the block as fast as they could.  In the adjacent cell, they surprised a guard, felling him with one stun blast.  Then it was back through the corridors the way they had come.

Kirk's heart wouldn't stop pounding.  He knew it was adrenaline, and it was doubtlessly helping him to be quicker and stronger and all that, but he also knew the heat in his body hadn't dissipated like it should, and that while he should be thinking of nothing but escape, he was severely distracted.

*I got hard.  Spock knows it.  Oh God.  He'll never speak of it, never bring it between us, not if I don't want him to.  But still, Spock *knows.*  Even now I'm not completely calm.  Damn pants.*

What if Spock couldn't forgive him for it?  What if Spock were now worried that he wanted something more?

*Spock knows I've bedded my way through a planet of women.  I love women!  It was whatever Spock was doing to me.  Spock will know more about that than I do.  He'll never mention it.  It's over.  Forget about it.  Your damn life is in danger here!*

They were moving quietly down the main hall now, and so heard the boots of guards approaching.  As one, they ducked into the deep alcove to their right, and pressed back together into the shadows.

Kirk shivered just slightly at the contact with Spock's body -- a mere brush of their shoulders, but the Vulcan was so warm, and this close it was easy to smell the spice of him.

*Good thing there's no sandalwood around,* Kirk thought almost in hysteria.

"Sam," Spock whispered.  "I am uncertain of our destination."

Thank God for Spock.  Yes.  They had so much to worry about, and boners just weren't on the list.

"We need to get to T'Arlmon.  We can say it's too hot here, and we need to get back our bosses.  We've got enough to report on."

Spock's answer was delayed as the guards passed, moving quickly, with their rifles in their hands.  News of the smugglers' escape was definitely spreading.

"We cannot know if she is still free," Spock whispered.  "Or whether she has not fled the area."

"We haven't paid her yet, and we owe her a lot of latinum," Kirk muttered, getting ready to go back out into the corridor.  Was Spock perhaps just leaning into him slightly?

"If she is unavailable, we will have to arrange alternate transportation.  Perhaps --"

Footsteps were approaching again, lighter and fleeter than the guards'.  Spock thought he could recognize the rhythm of one pair of feet -- female, deliberate, slightly flamboyant.  T'Arlmon and three of her crew passed by, rifles in their hands.

Kirk leapt out, keeping his own rifle trained on the Romulan woman.  "T'Arlmon!"

She stopped and turned, her crewmates only moving a second behind her.  They all eyed Kirk's weapon, then looked to Spock.

"We've come to get you out of here," she said.

"How very fortunate for us," Kirk hissed.

She scowled.  "Either come with us or stay here and be lab rats."  She snorted in rage.  "Don't you realize what you've walked into?"

Kirk felt that *click* in his head.  Things were beginning to make a little sense now.  "The Romulans' Anti-Sexual Deviance Purity Project," he said back, as though he were about to begin his daily class lecture.

For his trouble he got to see four Romulan pairs of eyes widen.  Spock shifted behind him.

"If you're here to rescue us," Kirk drawled.  "Then rescue us."

T'Arlmon's lips tightened.  "This way."  She ran back down the way they had come, her crewmates taking position to the side and rear as Kirk and Spock kept on T'Arlmon's heels.

Kirk was about to object that they weren't going to the exit when their liberators stopped abruptly and held position, T'Arlmon counting softly.  When she reached "zero," Kirk saw spots, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the transporter room of the woman's ship.

"Get us out of here, maximum warp!" T'Arlmon snarled.

Kirk nodded and would have followed, when suddenly four Romulan rifles were pointed at him and his first officer.

"How did you know about the project?" she demanded.

"I'm not talking to you about this while you've got your guns trained on us," Kirk snapped.

"I have no time for Human games!"

"And I have no time for Romulan threats!"

"Commander!"  The second in command ran into the room.  "We're reading three ships in close pursuit!"

"Lock them in their quarters!" T'Arlmon ordered as she ran from the room to her bridge.

Their weapons were taken, and Kirk got an unpleasant shove from a rifle barrel, but otherwise they were taken quietly to their room and told it would be many hours before they would be able to explain themselves.  Tensions remained at a surprising minimum.

Until, that is, Kirk realized he was alone in a bedroom with Spock.

He sat down heavily on the bed, completely at a loss for words.

Spock said nothing, but Kirk watched him sit on the other bed.  Those angular features, so familiar to him, suddenly looked like those of a stranger, and Kirk buried his face in his hands.  He couldn't bear to look at Spock, couldn't bear the insanely rapid pulse that threatened to hammer his heart right out of his chest.  He tried to reach for his famous courage and came up empty-handed.

*I can't face him, and I can't face myself.  I'm such a coward.*

In spite of the whine of the ship's engines, it seemed deathly quiet in the room.  When Spock drew in a breath to speak, Kirk seemed to hear it with his whole body.

*My God,* he thought, finally recognizing what was happening to him.  *No.  Oh no.*

"Sam," Spock said softly, "we should talk."

Kirk remained silent.  He heard the faintest sigh and once more the noise resonated though him.  Oh this was just getting worse and worse.  This wasn't mere lust brought on by danger and adrenaline, this was...*No.  It isn't that.*

"What happened…” Spock began.

Kirk's head snapped up.

"Nothing.  Happened," he said, biting off each word tightly.

Was that a flicker of hurt in those dark eyes?  No, of course it wasn't.  Kirk, tightly in control now, rose to his feet.

"I think I need a shower."

"What happened -- " Spock repeated.

Kirk whirled on him.  "Mister, you are out of..."

"...was not unwelcome," Spock went on as if Kirk's angry words had not been spoken.

"Uh..."  It wasn't his most articulate answer, but Kirk was too busy trying to bring his jaw up from his chest.

Spock was looking right at him and now there was no mistaking the look in those ink-black eyes.

"What exactly...?" Kirk began.  But he couldn't form the words.  All he could do was take one step toward the still form of his first officer, his best friend, his...

That one step broke his own reticence, and he followed it with three much more swift steps, until he was standing right in front of Spock.  Crouching down until their faces were level, he looked into those eyes.

"Spock?"

Spock's eyes flickered closed and then he opened them again.  Kirk could see a faint olive flush spread across those sharp cheekbones and his hand rose of its own volition to follow that hint of color.

As if freed by Kirk's touch, Spock reached out to grasp Kirk's shoulders.  "Jim?" he whispered, his voice husky with uncertainty and something else.

"It's all right, Spock," Kirk replied, some of his certainty returning at Spock's obvious worry.  "It's...more than all right."

And it seemed that the most natural thing to do was to lean forward and hope that Spock would do the same.

"Jim," Spock whispered, and the sound was ragged music.  Vulcan hands found Human again, and Kirk shivered.  "Jim, I need to warn you."

"God!"  The heat in Kirk's body flared up.  "You could cut me in half, couldn't you?  What, do you think I'm too fragile?"  Kirk leaned in now, burying his face in Spock's neck.  He couldn't believe how much he wanted this.  He had no idea what he was doing, but everything he had needed to continue.  "I could...we could restrain you, or I could...we've got to work something out, Spock."

"Jim, you misunderstand."  Spock's breathing was so torn, so desperate.  Kirk's blood was singing with the rasp of those breaths.  And his calm, collected Spock wanted him just as badly, didn't he?

"And yet," Spock continued, "you have described our difficulty, in your own way.  I cannot restrain myself, and you have not the power to stop me."

"I don't want to stop you, Spock."  Kirk let a hand leave Spock's warm grasp and run lightly along the powerful leg, inside, along the thigh.  Spock gasped and shuddered, and his hand was captured again.

"I do not mean physically, Jim...t'hy'la...the One I would call mine."

Spock's tone was getting through to him.  Kirk sat back slightly, meeting those dark eyes, urging him to continue.

"Vulcans do not have to mate for life, and, indeed, we can conduct ourselves as though coupling were only a biological necessity, as it is.  But once emotions are involved...once love is involved..."

Kirk felt himself grinning like a madman.  "Do you love me, Spock.?"

Spock smiled just slightly back, more a suggestion of a smile than an actual arrangement of features.  "You have known for some time that I do."

"But you love me like *that?*"

Spock's eyes closed, and Kirk realized that somehow he had caused Spock pleasure.  The desire to do it again dizzied him, making it hard to concentrate on Spock's next words.

"I will...even more than I do now," Spock confessed, "should you let me inside your mind this way.  I could not withhold myself, my love for you, my need..."

Kirk suddenly could not stand that only Spock had confessed such things.

"Spock, I've loved you for so long now...and I could have loved you like a brother, like more than a brother, for the rest of my life without wanting more.  But now that you've touched me.  Oh God, Spock.  Spock."  He leaned in again, needing, and Spock allowed them to meet.  A more-than-Human heat washed through him as their lips touched, gently, hesitantly, at first.  Then a rush of feeling, rising up, and he was pressing against those lips, opening his mouth to take Spock in.  Spice, sunlight, incredible heat and moisture, like going down on a woman, like feeling her come.  And it was only, as yet, a kiss.

Inside, something struggled.  He saw himself spread out, taking Spock in his body, his legs parted, like a woman's, and balked, just slightly.  This wasn't *him,* was it?  Did he really want his first officer to fuck him?

Spock's tongue touched his.  Heat flared and consumed.

Oh, what did it matter how they came together?  Besides, he would be inside Spock as well, and that image inflamed him.  And then he thought of Spock's green nipples, and of his jade cock, and groaned into that hot mouth, letting Spock feed on the sounds of his thoughts.

Spock tore his mouth away, bringing up Kirk's wrist, lightly biting the tender skin, marking him.  His eyes, meeting his captain's, were dark flame.

Kirk turned his head and brushed his lips against Spock's wrist.  Instead of biting, he let his tongue glide over the hammering pulse point, smiling when his efforts made Spock moan.  He let his tongue trail up into the Vulcan's palm, teasing each faint whorl and ridge of that strong hand.

His hands, still almost moving on their own, slid up Spock's arms.  One continued upwards to tangle in the fine thick hair, something that felt so much better than Jim could have imagined.  With the thumb of his other hand, he found the pulse point in Spock's neck, tracing  the same pattern on it that his tongue traced on Spock's palm.

"Jim," Spock gasped hoarsely.  And then, "Jim," again, only even more urgently.

"Yes," Kirk said into Spock's hand.  He lifted his head.  "Whatever you want."

"Not what I want," Spock said.  Kirk frowned slightly although he didn't let his thumb stop its slow steady movement on the other man's neck.

"What *we* want," Spock explained.

"I...we..." Kirk shook his head.  "Damnit Spock, words aren't right, aren't enough."

"Jim, it's too much at this moment.  I don't have...oh..."

Kirk had moved in while Spock was talking and now replaced his thumb with his lips, pressing them against hot skin.

"Don't have what?" he insisted, his voice somewhat muffled.

A second later, he was flat on his back on the bed, not quite sure of how he'd come to be there.

Not that it mattered, though.  Nothing mattered but the lean strong form pressing against him, the mouth that was teasing his mouth open and then kissing him deeply.  Spock's hands were pulling at his clothes and he was struggling to help, wanting nothing more than to be free of anything that kept them from touching.

"Control," Spock whispered in that rough voice of his.  "Jim, I have to..."  His voice trailed off as he looked down at Kirk.  "Too close to the edge..."

Kirk pulled his head down for another kiss.  When it was over, he whispered, "I know; I understand."

He rolled them over, his hands now pulling at Spock's clothing until they were both mostly naked.  He didn't really have time to look at anything too closely before his hands found that heavy, incredibly hot cock.  As Spock looked up at him with mingled love and gratitude, Kirk stroked him with a strong, sure hand.

"I love you," Kirk said, and that was enough.  Spock's eyes closed and he moaned quietly and came.  Somehow that quiet moan was more powerfully erotic than any scream or shout Kirk had ever heard.  This was Spock and Jim had given him this gift, had been enough to inspire the Vulcan's walls to tumble down.  It was almost too much and Kirk had to bite down hard on his lip to keep his own climax at bay.

Jim’s eyes closed with the force of it, and so the soft touch at his temple startled him.

There was a whisper of heat through his mind, and then he felt something bright.  It filled him, soothed him as he had never known comfort before.  It had taste and texture, and yet it was only feeling, a feeling that grew sharply into pleasure, then joy, and then ecstasy.

And it was Spock.  Spock was coming in his mind.

The world came back into focus slowly, and it was unbearably erotic to rise up from an orgasm and still be hard -- harder, he thought, than he had ever been.

He saw something, a hot cock made of cool green jade resting in his palm, curling against olive skin, moist with fluid.  White pearls of semen dotted the outline of his vision, and his mouth watered for the taste of them.  Before he even fully remembered it was Spock with him like this, he wanted to put his tongue to each droplet.  He wanted to caress the incredible softness of the flesh in his hand.  He wanted to commit this image to his mind like a vow:  the flared head, the long shaft, as long as his own, and as thick, but incredibly different.  The shade of it, the tint.  The fine silk he savored, moving his fingers just slightly.

*I have Spock's cock in my hand.*  His fingertips moved up just slightly, barely touching the sac of fine skin.  How would it feel to have Spock's balls in his mouth?

"Jim."

Oh, he could listen to that voice for the rest of his life.  He hoped, in fact, that he would do just that.

"Spock, do you have a first name?"

Spock didn't chuckle, and was doubtlessly not even smiling, but Jim knew he was amused.  A soft rustle whispered that Spock was moving his head down to his ear, and he felt the breath of his lover caress him as a brief string of harsh, broken, beautiful syllables unlocked this final secret into his soul.

Kirk laughed, and his smile was plain as he looked up into Spock's dark eyes.  "I'll never manage to pronounce that."

"'Spock,' from your lips, is more unique than any mere name could be."

"I love you, Spock."

The Vulcan shivered.

"Then you must trust me, Jim."

"I always have," Kirk replied.

And it was so true, he thought.  That was the main difference between this moment and all the other moments he'd made love to someone.  It wasn't that Spock was a man, although that set this time off as well, it was that he utterly trusted Spock.

He'd trusted so few of his lovers, if, indeed, he'd trusted any of them at all.

"I trust you," he said aloud, "with everything I am."

Spock closed his eyes, while on his face was a non-expression that somehow conveyed a world of feelings.  Kirk smiled and leaned back, knowing that he had to show his trust by letting Spock take control of this time.  He wanted to drive Spock crazy and he knew he would some day, but now he wanted to make sure his lover understood the depth and width and breadth of what he felt.

When Spock opened his eyes and saw Kirk lying back, he nodded.

Kirk had to chuckle, thinking that Spock in bed was still the Spock he'd always known.  He wondered how he'd deal with those looks in public after seeing them in private, but he banished the thought from his mind.  This was not the time to worry about the future; he owed this moment his full attention.

Hot fingers touched his temple again, this time moving slowly to comb their way through his hair.  He was a little surprised at the way even his scalp seemed sensitive to this touch.  It were as if his whole body were tuned to a certain sequence of notes, a melody only Spock could play in full.

He arched his neck slightly as the fingers trailed back around to his chin.  When they brushed across his mouth he kissed them fleetingly, and then they moved on, tracing their way across his neck, catching every nerve ending as they passed.

If he'd ever imagined sex with Spock, he supposed he would have imagined that it would be thorough.  And this was, but, beyond the thoroughness was a *focus* that he should have anticipated.  Right now, all of that intellect, all of that restrained mind, was focused on him.  It was terrifying.  It was amazing.  It was simply the most incredible experience of his life.

*Steady, Jim,* he thought with an interior smile.

It was something he'd thought a lot over the years in this situation.  Well, not *exactly* in this situation, but in bed with a lover.  He could feel some of the muscles in his body relax, his lungs filling deeply with air as he centered himself.  He wanted to enjoy everything Spock would --

"Ah!  God!  Spock!"

Hot hands hand simply brushed over his arms, and then there had been that touch at his neck.  From where, then, had that sharp rush of feeling come?  He tingled with it, breath lost, and stared almost in fear at the man lying naked along his side.

"You must be here for this, Jim.  You cannot stand from me."

His eyes went wide, and stayed there.  Since when had Spock ever seemed a threat to him?  Even when the spores had changed him, and they fought.  Even when his madness  had come and the plak tow had made him a stranger, Kirk did not fear his first officer and friend as he did now.  Spock was demanding something he didn't have, or at least knew he couldn't give.

But Spock slowly shook his head.  "No.  I will not allow it."

"Spock?"

The Vulcan did not answer, the dark eyes staring into his as though this connection were the universe.

"Spock?  I don't..."  But what was it he didn't know, or couldn't do?  He knew for certain he couldn't give up being here.  If Spock turned from him now he would die.  He was impossibly hard.

"You do know, Jim.  You will know.  You have always known."

God, he was terrified.  His hands had come up to clamp on Spock's arms, and he was shaking.

Spock leaned down, slowly, demanding trust, never looking away, never blinking, and before their lips met, Jim groaned into the hot air of his lover's breath.  Then the sound was sealed up in their kiss, and his fear was flooded over with desire.

The hot hands, Vulcan's hands, moved over his chest, and he arched into the caress, desperate for pressure against his nipples.  One tight nub was brushed, and he wanted to scream.  Then a clamp of fingers, right there, right where he needed it, and he did scream into Spock's mouth.

He was pressed back, held down, the weight of Spock on his body was sex incarnate, and he thrust up, knowing he would come.

And Spock's weight left him, freezing him with the loss of contact.

"Spock!"

"Hush, Jim.  And spread your legs."

It didn't even occur to him not to comply.  For a second as he spread his legs as wide as he could, he remembered watching others do this for him, how important it could be.  He wanted it to be important for Spock, wanted Spock to know how much he needed to be here.

Some of what he felt must have been visible on his face, because Spock closed his eyes again.  Kirk was rapidly coming to associate that particular action as evidence of passion and gratitude and love.  He wondered if he'd always read Spock's emotions this well or if this were a new thing.  Not that it mattered, of course.  Nothing mattered.

Nothing except the strong caresses being lavished on him, hot hands gliding over his skin, and his own painful, demanding need.  He didn't care that Spock was going to fuck him.  Or rather he did care a great deal and, as far as Jim was concerned, it couldn't happen soon enough.  Spock bent for another kiss and Kirk felt even more arousal being teased out of him by his lover's lips.  Hot skin brushed against his aching cock and he thrust up again, only to meet the air as Spock moved away.

"Please..." Kirk breathed softly into Spock's mouth.

Spock moved his mouth to Jim's ear and bit at the earlobe.

"Of course," the Vulcan said through Kirk's harsh gasp.  "Everything you want and more."

Strong fingers teased his other nipple and Kirk yelped.

In the momentary interlude that followed, he managed to gasp.  "I want everything from you."

Spock moved until he was looking down into Kirk's eyes.  "Which is what I want from you."

Kirk wanted to say something about great minds, but he ended up screaming instead.

One of those hot hands had stroked his cock, a slight teasing touch that left him aching and wanting more.  He couldn't get harder, he told himself dimly.  He'd explode or something.

Then his legs were being pushed further apart and he was allowing it, wanting it.  He wondered what it would feel like to be fucked, and how much he'd be changed by it...

"Spock," he said through gasps induced by more teasing touches on his cock.  "Problem..."

Spock stopped and looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

In spite of his frustration and his concern, Kirk laughed a little.  "Uh, we don't have any..."

"Trust me, Jim."

Just like that.  And just like that, Kirk did trust him.

He screamed again as the head of his cock was touched lightly.  He would have come, except for the fact that one strong hand was encircling the base of his cock firmly, allowing him to feel everything and yet not gain release.  Then slick fingers, slick with his own precum, he realized, teased his opening ever-so-gently.

He'd had lovers touch him, even penetrate him there before, of course, with fingers, even a few times with a tongue.  He'd liked it, but he hadn't preferred it.  He supposed it was because he knew she was really just doing it -- going *there* -- for him.  Now he knew that these touches were getting him ready for Spock's entry.  Spock was touching him there before he slid that jade cock inside him, and then Spock would hold his legs back and take him, fuck him.

"I do trust you, Spock," he whispered, and the teasing fingers sent chills and heat alternately through his body.  He was shivering again.  Perhaps he had never stopped, not since that first moment in the cell when he'd looked up to see Spock over him, and known he wanted...this.

"As I trust you, t’hy'la."

"What...oh, oh...what does that word mean?"

Spock kissed him, touched him, slipped a finger inside him.

"Beloved," was whispered into his mouth, and he breathed in the word, the meaning, wanting more.

"Spock, let me suck you."

"Soon, but not now."

"Just for a moment."

"Jim..."

"*Please,* Spock."

Spock paused, and the dark gaze knew him.  The Vulcan sat up and back in fluid grace, and Kirk sat with him, leaning forward, knowing he had to be true to his promise.  Later he could suck Spock until he could drink him in, but for now he *had* to know just this much.  That cock, so beautiful against his palm, was gloriously erect.  The wetness at the tip drew out his tongue, and he lapped at the impossible softness, thrilling to do this, thinking all the time of how this would be inside him soon.

He kept it simple, and brief, though it tore his heart.  His open mouth slid around and down, and he held Spock’s heat over his tongue, between his lips.  And Spock allowed it.  Spock stroked his hair.  Spock...

God, Spock loved him.

He let go, the taste of Vulcan precum -- spicy, of course, and somehow dry, like desert sand or a sunset -- in his mouth.  Luxuriously, he lay back and brought up his legs.

"Now, Spock."

His friend, lover...his t’hy'la bestowed an almost-smile upon him.  Kirk remembered the heat that he had held in his mouth, and moaned.  Long fingers returned to his opening, and now one slipped inside, making a faint burn that was soothed.

Then another finger, finally, another.

"Jim."

"Spock."

"Are you mine?"  Spock rubbed the slick skin over his backside, then his exposed perineum, then the underside of his cock.  "May I take what I see?"

Jim gasped.  To be wanted by Spock:  this was more than he had ever thought to have.  He smiled easily, joyously, and would have answered, except that those dark eyes held him again.

This was also more than he had ever thought he could pay.

"I am yours, Spock."  His voice, damn it to hell, was trembling.

Spock shook his head, slowly, and there was compassion there.

"No, t’hy'la.  But you will be if you allow it."

Oh God, Spock was talking about the meld.

*Can't we just fuck?* he wanted to ask, but even as he thought it he knew what Spock meant.  He thought of Spock's climax echoed through that gentle touch.  He thought of Spock taking him *completely.*

He thought of taking Spock completely, of having for his own all that Spock was.

And he reached for Spock's face.

"Show me how," he whispered, tracing his fingers over Spock's temple.

Spock turned his head and kissed Jim's palm.

"Are you sure?" he asked a moment later.  He reached up and pushed Kirk's hand back down onto the bed.

"Yes," Kirk said.  "It's a little...frightening, but..."

Spock bent and kissed him, and Kirk knew that Spock understood how much it meant for him to admit that.

"For me as well," Spock said, his voice serious.

Kirk reached out and grabbed one of Spock hands, dragging it to his head.  "Then it's all right,” he said.  "We've been frightened together before."

"Indeed," Spock replied, and the almost-joke was the last thing Kirk heard.

He'd expected the pressure he'd felt before, when they'd melded on a much more superficial level, but instead it was almost like water being poured into a half-full bowl.  Spock's mind didn't push, it blended with Kirk's.  Slowly and carefully, Kirk could feel his own mind allowing that blending.

Colors and smells and textures and so many other things swirled around him.  For a moment, it was almost too chaotic, but then he could feel Spock drawing him in so that he was in Spock's mind as much as Spock was in his.  The simple equality of it was overwhelming as Jim discovered that everything he'd always assumed and hoped about their relationship was absolutely true.

They complimented each other perfectly.  Their minds fit together seamlessly, and where there was a lack in one mind, it was compensated by the other mind.  Jim felt calm and control moving through him like warm water and he knew that his wildly pulsing emotions and needs were working their way through Spock's consciousness.

They matched each other in desire for one another and, more importantly, in love for the other.  Here there could be no hiding behind Human fears of loss of selfhood or Vulcan reticence over loss of self-control.  Here there were only two strong minds that loved, and, led by those minds, two strong bodies that hungered for each other.

The link having been made, Spock's hand fell away from Kirk's temple.  Kirk, knowing what was needed next, pulled his legs further apart and back a bit, and in the same way, he could feel Spock knowing he needed to move between those legs.  He felt Spock's fingers brush his mouth, and he eagerly complied with the mentally voiced request, taking those fingers in his mouth and licking them.

Then he was being teased and entered again.  It was far easier for Jim to relax this time, knowing that Spock would feel all he felt and that he would ease off if he needed to.

But he didn't need Spock to ease off now.  In fact, he sent his pleasure surging across their link and pushed against the fingers inside him.

*T’hy'la,* he thought at Spock.  *Now please.*

*There can be no pain.  I will not allow it.*  Spock's thoughts were silken threads, perfectly aligned, yet harmonized.

 *You couldn't hurt me.  I need you.  Not having you in me hurts.*

And this last released Spock, Jim knew.  The captain thought, fleetingly, of his life that had been.  He was Spock's now.  And Spock was his.  Until death.  Perhaps after.  Everything would be in his life now in relation to another, even more than to himself.

Something incredibly soft touched him, so foreign, so Other.  He was about to be fucked in the ass by his half-Vulcan first officer’s jade cock.

*These thoughts arouse you?*  Spock's puzzled thoughts struck new chords on silken threads.

*You arouse me.  Thinking of you with new words arouses me.*

"Then I will fuck you, t’hy'la," Spock told him.  "And you will feel me come inside you."

"*Hurry.*"

The touch became pressure, and the pressure burned just faintly, and then he felt the tease of first being filled, and then further filled, and still further, as Spock's long shaft eased inside him.

He could see himself then as Spock saw him:  his eyes wild and dark, his face flushed, his eyelashes catching the light with trapped tears, his lips dark red and open with gasps, his hair matted slightly with sweat.

He felt the Vulcan's awe at his appearance, and tried to take in the sight of Spock:  the elegance of line and grace, the strength of his features, the intense expanse of his gaze.  Together, they stared into the sight of what they loved loving them.  And then Spock withdrew, paused, and thrust in, hard.

Jim screamed, and arched off the bed to encourage another thrust.

He needed this.  Oh, God.  He needed this.  And this was Spock's need inside him, along with his body.  For so long the Vulcan had needed to touch his captain like this, had craved the feel of him, the caress of him.  For so long they had loved.  Touched, and never touching, until now.

The heat had purpose now, and it knew him.  No part of him escaped the radiating waves from the friction inside his ass out through to his fingers and toes, his face, his skin, his hair, for all he knew.  There was no logic to this.

The tips of his ears burned, and sweat was beading on his smooth chest.  The sun of Vulcan burned in his blood as Spock thrust and Jim accepted, as Jim pushed up to get more, and Spock surrendered it to him.

And it was reaching the moment when they had to let go, when they had to be together in the flare of heat which they could only hope would annihilate them completely.

*I want...oblivion with you...t’hy'la.*

And they moved together again, again, and again until the heat caught and flared and, screaming, they broke themselves upon the wake of their desire, and were nothing.

blivion, Kirk mused, as he blinked his eyes, was pretty amazing.

"Indeed," a deep voice rumbled in his ear.  "I found it to be..."

Spock's voice trailed off, but Kirk's mind caught the word, "incredible."

He sighed contentedly.  For a Vulcan to think something was incredible...well, that was incredible in and of itself.

He kissed Spock's shoulder and simply held his lover close for a moment.  *Just one more moment, he thought, just a few more before we have to...*

"Are you two *quite* through in there?" a voice yelled.

"Shit!"

Kirk felt agreement and then their link began to fade.  Forgetting the impatient Romulan captain outside the door, he tightened his arms around Spock.

"It fades to tolerable levels," Spock said, answering the thought behind the gesture.  "It never ceases."

"Never," Kirk whispered back.

Spock rolled over and they yanked a sheet over themselves.

Their timing was excellent; the door slid open to reveal T'Arlmon and two of her crew, all armed with disruptor rifles.

The Romulan woman rolled her eyes.  "There we were shaking three warbirds off our tails, and managing quite well, thank you for noticing, and you two were in here doing this."

"Who can blame them?" one of the men with her murmured.

Kirk felt a blush steal over his face.  "Well, since you obviously had the situation under control, we assumed we'd stay out of your way."

He could feel a faint burst of quickly suppressed amusement from Spock and felt better instantly.  The link *was* still there and would always be there.

"You distracted my crew," the captain snapped, her eyes bright with controlled laughter.

"We did?"

"You were a little loud," she replied.

"That bothered *your* crew?"

T'Arlmon gave in and laughed.

She then gestured to her men, and they faded back into the hallway.   She moved further into the cabin and the door slid shut behind her.  Kirk and Spock sat up, carefully keeping the sheet over their laps, and Kirk gestured at the other bed.

"Please have a seat, Captain.  We're hardly in a position to welcome you better."

"He's not what I expected," she said to Spock.

"He is not," Spock replied dryly, "what most people expect."

*Myself included, t’hy'la,* he added mentally, causing Kirk to blush again.

"Mind you, there are many rumors about the famous Captain James T. Kirk, but..."

A second later, she was flat on her back on the bed, Kirk's boot knife at her throat while Spock pulled one of their phasers out of the pile of clothes by the bed.

"Well," she said calmly, "you two are almost enough to make me wish I hadn't given up men.  Does it occur to you that all I had to do was turn you over to the Imperials who were following us?  We'd have gotten a full pardon and a rather impressive sum of money, always providing we were stupid enough to believe they wouldn't send us all in for treatment or worse."

Kirk backed away from her and Spock lowered his phaser.  They looked at each other and then, in response to an unspoken request, Spock tossed Jim's briefs to him.  Kirk pulled them on and then put on his pants.

"What do you want?" he asked T'Arlmon, sparing a moment to regret that Spock was getting dressed.

She answered with a question.  "What do your people say about this relationship of yours?"

Kirk couldn't help the laugh that burst out of him.  When both T'Arlmon and Spock raised their eyebrows, he shook his head, still laughing.  "Bones..." he managed to say.

Spock sighed very faintly.  "He will be...amused."

Kirk got himself under control.  "No one should have any problem with it.  Homosexuality is perfectly acceptable in both our cultures."

"I thought so.  We want asylum."

Spock's raised eyebrow spoke for both of them.

T'Arlmon sighed dramatically, but her eyes were cold.

"How do you think it makes any of us feel, knowing our government is engineering a weapon to destroy us?"

Before the link which had changed him forever, Kirk would have asked what she meant by that, just to stall for time, but now...somehow, it was easy just to acknowledge that she had known about the bio-weapon all along.  That was, logically, the reason she had helped them.

"Do you know how we can obtain a prototype of the weapon?" Spock asked.

T'Arlmon looked at him in revulsion.  "We're not interested in having Starfleet get their hands on the weapon!  We're going to destroy it!  We thought when you people realized what it was, even you would be moved to -- "  She broke off, shaking her head.  "I should have known that --"

"Technology cannot be uninvented," Kirk said firmly.  "We'll destroy everything you like, but first we have to 'get our hands' on  a sample of the contaminant.  Only then can we develop a defense against it.  We'll let whatever Romulans you like help us create the antidote, the vaccine, whatever we can make.  But just destroying it  and hoping no one else has a copy of the formula isn't enough."

T'Arlmon stared at him fiercely a long moment, then, slowly, her gaze dropped.

"If you're lying to me..."

"You might realize, Captain," Spock commented to her, "that if the contaminant is released, I would be a most likely victim."

The woman watched James Kirk's unconscious movement of protest towards his lover.

"I'll need to talk to my crew about this," she said, not wanting to bend, not wanting to give in.  She knew the Starfleet  officers were right.  She hated them, right now, intensely, for it.

"Of course."  Kirk's conciliatory tone set her teeth on edge.

"Join us in the mess, in twenty minutes.  And keep it down."  She turned, meeting their eyes stiffly, and left.

Kirk sagged slightly, and sighed.  He wondered if he'd ever feel confident that he understood his life again.

"T'hy'la?"

Oh, the slightly uncertain note in Spock's voice ripped at him.  He turned, taking that long, strong, graceful body into his arms, and was held close.  Between them, a sort of aftershock, and echo of their climax not long ago resonated, and he closed his eyes, riding through it.  He'd come inside women he cared about and not been so affected.  It was several moments before he could speak again.

But all he said was the name.  "Spock."

"Jim...say the word aloud.  Claim me by it."

Jim smiled to himself.  Spock didn't know, but he would call his lover this now, at least once a day, for the rest of their lives.

He pulled back, and smiled into dark eyes.  "T’hy’la."

And Spock shuddered.

Kirk ran a tongue over his lips before they left.  Several minutes of deep kisses had been quiet in every way but the pounding of his heart, which now refused to calm down.

They had strategies to plan here, and things to blow up.  He needed to focus.

He needed to fuck Spock.  And Spock needed him to do it.

The Romulans watched them enter with dark, guarded eyes.

Kirk hadn't expected to feel even more secure with Spock at his side now that this had happened.  After all, he'd always had a certain feeling of invulnerability as long as Spock was with him.  But now, he took increased comfort from Spock's presence, even though the Vulcan was hardly his calm self.

Still, there was something about that peripheral *awareness* of Spock in Kirk's mind that made him feel like they could deal with anything...even a room full of Romulan sexual outlaws.

He nodded at T'Arlmon and sat down in one of the empty chairs.  His whole body was aware of Spock settling in next to him with his usual grace, and he could feel the Vulcan's heat, both physical and mental.  He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"So..." he said to T'Arlmon.  "Everyone here is up-to-date?"

She nodded.  "We don't like it, but your reasoning is correct.  We can't just destroy the bio-weapons, because they'll just make more."

Spock nodded.  "That is the unfortunate thing about weapons of any kind."

One of the Romulans rolled her eyes.  "Don't give us that Vulcan pacifist crap," she began.

"Sevor," T'Arlmon snapped.  She glared at the woman for a moment and then turned and glared at Spock for good measure.  "We aren't here to debate philosophy of any kind.  We're here to work out a deal."

Kirk nodded.  "What do you want in addition to asylum?"

"What will the Federation do about the bio-weapons once they know they aren't aimed at outside enemies?"

A silence fell as Kirk thought about it.  The temptation was to tell this woman what she wanted to hear, at least until they were safely home.  But she and her people deserved the truth, as little as he liked that truth.  He was about to give them a taste of Federation hard politics, when Spock laid a hand lightly on his arm.

In spite of the delicate situation, Kirk could feel his whole body hum at the faint touch.

"The Federation will develop counter-measures," Spock said to T'Arlmon.

"Spock," Kirk began as T'Arlmon sneered a little.

"We will have to," Spock said quietly.  "It would be very easy to adapt the weapon so that it targeted Vulcans."  Before anyone could speak, he added, "Vulcans of all sexual persuasions."

"You say that like everyone knows about Vulcan sexuality," the helmsman, K'ortk, noted with quiet anger.  "Instead of its being shrouded in mystery.  Tell us, Vulcan, how it feels to have lived in a lie since your birth."

Spock raised an eyebrow.  "To what lie do you refer?"

K'ortk nodded at Kirk.  "You two haven't exactly been letting people know what they're getting.  Did your  Starfleet Command order you to keep your true selves out of the public eye?"

"This argument should wait for another time!" T'Arlmon snapped.

"Spock and I have nothing to hide.  Our relationship happens to be new."

Everyone looked at Kirk, who held up a hand.  "Yes, we've been friends for years, but this latest bit...sort of just snuck up on us."  He tried Endearing Smile #2.  "If you're worried that asylum will alienate you, perhaps even marginalize you, you should, but only because you're Romulans, not because of your sexual orientations.  Frankly, in most Federation worlds, we've realized there's jut too much else to worry about."

He let a beat pass.  "Weapons designed for genetic purging, for example."

T'Arlmon sighed angrily.  "We have no choice but to trust them.  There's no way Romulus hasn't realized whom they had in custody by now.  They'll be coming for them.  Unless we want to turn them over and hasten our own demise, we need to work together."

"Quite logical," Spock noted.

"There's no need for insults," the woman snapped.  "We're about three hours away from the main research facility for the bio-weapons, but we need to figure out a way to reach there without being detected.  Right now, the cloak protects us, but we'll be passing through a series of neutron particle fields, designed to detect anything from a ship to a meteorite."

"I would like to look over your cloaking device," Spock stated.

"And I want a look at all you know on movement in and out of there," Kirk said.

T'Arlmon nodded.  "Just one more thing.  If I think for one second you're going to go back on what you've  promised, I'll kill your lover in front of you, and then chop you into pieces."

Kirk shrugged.  "Quite...logical."

One of the Romulans snickered a little and the tension of the meeting faded quite a bit.  With the lessening of the tension, Kirk felt an increase in tension of another kind.  As the crew began to head to their various stations, he sighed a little.  Was he always going to be this distracted?

"I'm sorry this is happening now," a quiet voice behind him said.

He turned to see the pilot who had been one of the first of the crew to watch the chess games.  She looked at him gravely and he smiled at her, even as he was aware of Spock’s moving to talk to two of the engineers.

"A new Bond," the Romulan woman continued, "is hard enough to adjust to, let alone in the middle of a crisis."

"We're hardly ever *not* in the middle of a crisis," Kirk said wryly.

"So I understand," T'Arlmon said as she came up to the pilot's side.  "I wish we could have treated you like the distinguished guests you are."

"When did you figure us out?"

The pilot smiled.  "I used to be Tal Shi'ar, before I Bonded with the captain.  I'd know your face anywhere."

"The Tal Shi'ar kicked you out?" Kirk asked.  "Because of your relationship?"  He tried, but couldn't quite keep the faint note of irritation out of his voice.

"Well, that and the fact that she helped me escape," T'Arlmon said dryly.

"I never formally left the Tal Shi'ar," her lover added.  "I'll have to get around to that some day."  She looked at T'Arlmon as Kirk laughed.  "I'll go get the charts so we can go over them with Captain Kirk."

T'Arlmon looked at Kirk almost wistfully.  "It won't make any difference to Starfleet?"

"There'll be more concern because he's my first officer."

"It will bother some Vulcans," she said shrewdly.

"Spock bothers most Vulcans already.  I doubt this will make a difference."

An hour later, Kirk and T'Arlmon had figured out most of their course through the neutron particle fields.

"We'll still be vulnerable here," Kirk said to Spock and T'Surra, the pilot.

T'Surra sighed.  "I might be able to bluff my way in, but I don't think they'd let us out again."

"Bendek and I have figured out a way to absorb enough of the particles to make us truly invisible," Spock said from over Kirk's shoulder.

Kirk looked at Spock and the Romulan engineer he'd been working with.  "That was quick."

"Bendek is a bit of a miracle worker," T'Arlmon said.  She looked confused when Kirk burst into laughter.  "Excuse me?"

"Sorry," he said.  "I call my chief engineer that all the time."

"Ah."  T'Arlmon looked at the charts.  "We've done as much as we can here.  Now it's just luck."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but wisely refrained from commenting.

They all had to be at stations in a little over an hour, so Spock was somewhat puzzled when the crew all seemed to find reasons to retire to their cabins.  When Kirk did the same, however, he did not object, following his captain into the small room and then regarding him with an expression no one but Jim Kirk would be able to read.

"They're all just doing what we're doing, Spock," Kirk purred as he pulled his lover into his arms.

"Indeed?"  Spock brushed his fingertips over Kirk's temples and felt the bone-deep shiver.  "Then I must approve."

"Oh, God, Spock.  There isn't enough time for everything I want to do."

Spock stared a long moment into those gold-shot green eyes he had so long admired, and now was allowed to adore.  The Human's lust and love and need all flowed easily between them, as did his own darker echo.  He thought then of Pon Farr, of the madness, and knew his first moment of sexual contentment.  He had a lover for that time now, not some strange mate he hardly new, not some woman arranged for him who would think him a freak.  He had Jim Kirk's body to claim, and though it was years away the fear of that time loosened its grip upon him.

He allowed himself the rare luxury of questioning his own emotional response, and knew, above everything except love, he felt gratitude.  This man accepted him, wanted him.  It was a pearl beyond price.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against the full, soft lips he had seen smile at so much beauty and speak against so much injustice.  And yet now they were only his lover's lips, and they opened to him, and there was soft heat inside.

Spock pulled back slightly to murmur, "To kiss you is to drink from a fountain."

He was kissing his lover before Jim could respond, and his hands caressed the length of the fine, muscular body.

He had been inside this body, and would be allowed to return.  And this body would be inside him.  The thought of it brought on a loss of logic, and yet Spock welcomed it.

Kirk's hips pressed against his, revealing arousal.  But Kirk's lips left his to whisper in ragged regret:  "There just isn't time for this."

"There is time," Spock said simply, then dropped to his knees and reached for the fastening at his lover's waist.

"Spock...don't..."  Jim's hands plucked at his, but the waistband opened now, and it was easy to reach inside, drawing out the alien cock that was no longer alien, the color of the sky at sunset, or of jewelfruit blossoms.  So soft, and warm as Human blood could make it.

Delicious.

"Spock!  Oh...Spock..."  Jim's hands in his hair, carefully resting, stroking as Spock easily took in the length of him, calming his instinct to gag, taking him inside his body this way, until his lips were tickled by the golden-haired groin and his fingers could roll the weight of that fine-skinned sac, and Kirk was moaning his name, softly, deeply, over and over.

The taste was exceptional, unique.  Salt, like Human sweat, with no taste of copper.  And the moisture was so generous, somewhat bitter, somewhat sweet.  It filled his senses of taste and smell and touch while Jim's moans played for his ears.  Only his eyes took in nothing, behind his tightly closed lids.  It was impossible to bear this much pleasure alone.  Only the Bond permitted it, flowing back and forth between them, letting them share the joy of taking in and being taken.

"I love you, Spock," Jim whispered now.

And the Vulcan drew harder, using the muscles of his tongue, his cheeks, his throat.  Jim cried out, bucking, though his hands did not tug at his hair, and in a moment, Spock's mouth filled with the libation of his lover.  He drank deeply, with satisfaction, with greed.

Kirk slumped over him, and Spock bore his weight.  It was time for them to get to the bridge.

"Spock...I need to...you..."

"Unnecessary."

Kirk steadied and Spock stood.  Hazel eyes noted with concern that Spock was not aroused.

"I am...saving myself," the Vulcan noted, and his voice, though calm, held no humor.  Kirk looked up into eyes filled with suppressed need.

"The next time, I'll make it good for you, Spock."  Kirk didn't think a wedding vow could be more binding.

Spock nodded.  "Then our next time cannot arrive too quickly."

Suddenly, Kirk grinned.  "You smooth-talker."

Kirk tried not to pace as T'Arlmon's Pride maneuvered through the neutron particle fields, but only because it would be rude to pace on another captain's bridge.  A few times he caught the Romulan captain's eye and got a quirked smile from her.  He imagined it would be no easier for her if they were on the bridge of the Enterprise.  Fortunately for his concentration, Spock was in Engineering, keeping an eye on the neutron particle containment.

Kirk was marginally aware of him, but it was at a completely acceptable level of distraction.  Sort of like hearing the hum of his own ship's engines, he thought:  something comforting that would only truly be noticeable if it were missing.

The thought stabbed into him then.

How many men had he lost over the years?  How many times had duty or circumstances demanded  he risk not only his own life, which was an acceptable risk, but Spock's life as well?  How could he ever do that again, knowing what he would lose?  And even now, he didn't know all that he could lose, because they weren't even fully Bonded yet.  How could he...

How could he let his lover, the man he loved more than life itself, be anything less than what he was?  He had no choice but to do what he'd always done:  trust Spock.  *He's held my life and my sanity and even my mind in his hands over the years,* Kirk thought, smiling a little.  *I can trust him with my heart.*

He tried to focus on the mission at hand, noticing automatically that they had settled into the choice blind spot.  Things were going well, and now all they had to do was see if T'Surra could worm her way into the installation's computers without anyone’s being any wiser.  As the pilot sat down in the captain's chair and flexed her fingers over the computer touch pads, Kirk saw T'Arlmon lightly rest a hand on the other woman's shoulder.  T'Surra glanced up, smiled distractedly at her lover, and looked at the board with more confidence.

Kirk felt himself holding his breath as the seconds passed.  T'Surra was muttering under her breath after two minutes, and, five minutes into the procedure, she was sweating slightly.  Finally, just when Kirk was ready to shout just to release some tension, T'Surra slumped back in the chair.  "Got it," she said tiredly.  "That shouldn't have taken that long, though."

"Get us out of here," T'Arlmon snapped to the relief pilot, who began retracing their course through the neutron fields.

Someone on the bridge muttered a curse and both Kirk and T'Arlmon whirled around.  The weapons officer was frantically working over his board.  "They know we're here.  T'Surra must have tripped an alarm."

T'Arlmon looked at Kirk.  "Straight on through!" she snapped at the pilot.

"They'll see us," Kirk warned.

"They already know we're here," she replied.  "Senek, two wide dispersal torpedoes aft.  Fire!"

Kirk watched the screen which showed the scene as they fled.  The torpedoes exploded and they caught the outline of three ships.

"Fuck!" the weapons officer announced.  "Three birds of prey in pursuit, Commander."

"Best guess shooting," T'Arlmon snapped.  "Try to take out one of the flanking ships."

"Aye, Commander."

Kirk began to have the ghost of an idea.  Slipping to an unused station, he contacted Engineering and asked to talk to Spock.

A few minutes later, he moved to stand right at T’Arlmon's side.  "How are we doing?" he asked, very quietly.

She sighed as the ship rocked.  "Not good," she replied, her voice equally low.

"How much do you trust me?"

"You, I don't know to trust."  She shot him a quick glance.  "Your reputation?  Now, *that* I trust."

"Can I have the helm?"

"You have the helm, Kirk," she said loudly.

The pilot glared at Kirk, but relinquished his seat to the Human.

Kirk could dimly hear T'Surra asking her commander if this were a good idea, but he was too busy getting a feel for the ship.

"Set a course for that concentration of neutrons," he said to the navigator.

"They'll see us for sure," the man protested.

"Do it!" snapped T'Arlmon.

"Kirk to Spock."

"Spock here, sir."

"You ready down there?"

"Yes."

"On my mark…four three two…mark!"

Spock released the contained neutrons from the ship's heat exhaust and all their aft sensors went wild.  T'Arlmon shrieked like a  banshee and Kirk kicked the ship into warp, pushing it as hard as he could.

Ten minutes later, they were still running cloaked and there seemed to be no pursuit.  Kirk sighed and looked at the Romulan commander.  "I wasn't sure that was going to work."

She grinned.  "I know the feeling."

"I'm exhausted."

"I know *that* feeling too."

Kirk let things relax slightly, giving up the conn, standing there on the bridge while everyone checked over their systems, then went down to Engineering where Spock was already running a tricorder over the heavily shielded prototypes.

"These should remain intact and present no further hazard during transport, Captain," that calm voice informed him.  Kirk somehow kept his eyes from raking Spock's body and looked calmly into dark eyes.

"But you'll still want to spend the next few hours in here making certain of that," Kirk finished for him.

The eyebrow went up.  "Considering the nature of the cargo --"

"Spock…Spock.  Just tell me how I can help."

The whole crew came down for a look at some point over the next four and a half hours, while the two Starfleet officers checked and triple-checked the seals, locks, and shielding of the seven torpedoes and twelve detonation devices that T'Surra had gotten aboard.  Kirk decided not to think about the lives that had doubtlessly been lost in obtaining the  information T'Arlmon had on the site.  Nor did he want to think about the subjects they had left behind at the Romulan research station.

True, he hadn't laid eyes on them, and there was no chance that they could have rescued them, but still, the thought of the horrors being perpetrated there, on the Romulans' own people, was more than the captain could keep his mind from.

"Jim," Spock said to him quietly at one point, "there was nothing we could have done more than what we are doing.  When the Federation makes it clear to the Romulans that their plans are known, then station will doubtlessly undergo a re-allotment of funds and energies."

Kirk ran a hand through his hair, and realized it had been a long time since he'd showered.  "I know, Spock."  He craned his neck back and listened to it pop.  "And I'm sorry you have to feel what I'm feeling."

"I am not."

Kirk smiled at the simple, honest words.  Only a day or so now that he and Spock had been bonded, and the bond wasn't complete, and already he couldn't think of his life without this connection.  He couldn't believe how lonely he had been.

Since someone needed to keep watch at all times, and since it would be almost four days back to Federation space via the little-traveled route T'Arlmon had plotted, Spock trained three of the crew in the simple monitoring duties before he was content to leave engineering.  And he only left then, Kirk suspected, because he knew how much his captain wanted to go.  The sight of the torpedoes depressed him.

As they left the room, Kirk thought of how he wanted to care for Spock, and of all that his long history with love-making should be able to allow him to practice on Spock's body.  The task seemed almost overwhelming.

"Jim," Spock said quietly as they walked to their quarters.  "You are exhausted."

Kirk sighed.  "That I am, Spock."

"I am also weary, and we have, I believe, as Dr.  McCoy would say, earned some shut-eye."  Spock waited until their door closed behind him, then stood there, looking into his captain's somewhat pale face.  "We will have the rest of our lives."

But the green-and-gold orbs were as bright as ever, and there was power there undiminished by any fatigue.  "I want us fully bonded before we return to the ship.  I want...as long as we can have together, getting used to it, before we have to go through all the debriefings and paperwork."

And for his troubles, Kirk was able to watch Spock's breath very lightly catch, and his eyes burn with promise.  "Then upon waking, if it pleases you, we shall do so."

Jim smiled and leaned in for a kiss, sweet and simple.  They stripped after that, as they would have before this mission, down to their underwear, as Kirk went in first for a short, hot shower.  He dried while Spock washed, then slipped into bed while Spock dried, then smiled and snuggled just slightly against a warm body as the Vulcan joined him in bed.

"Is it all right for me to touch you while you sleep?" Jim asked.

"Your touch is...pleasant.  I would never wish it to be withheld."

Kirk chuckled and let his body relax completely.  It was like having a furnace in his bed, in his arms.  "I love you, Spock."

Spock would have answered, but his lover was asleep.

or a second, as he woke up, Kirk wondered why he'd turned the heat up so high.  Then, as he remembered why he was so warm, he felt even warmer, a glow of contentment that radiated from his mind as well as his body.

His body...Well, it was more than interested in his sleeping partner.  Trying not to wake Spock up, Jim rose on one elbow and contemplated the sleeping form of his friend, first officer, lover, life mate...*All those things and more,* he thought happily.

"Indeed," a deep voice said.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Kirk asked worriedly.

"I was waking up already," Spock assured him.  "I find it most unusual to wake up with someone."

"Unusual in a good way?" Kirk teased, feeling a little of Spock's contentment wash over him.

"Yes," Spock replied simply.

"Good," Kirk said smugly, "because you seem to be stuck with me."

"The correct phrase," Spock replied in the tone of voice he usually reserved for conversations with McCoy, "is 'bonded,' not 'stuck with.'"

"I won't tell anyone," Kirk said seriously.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"You have emotions all the time, not just every seven years or so."  Kirk sat up to lean against the bulkhead.  "You just suppress them."

"You are correct."  Spock looked solemnly at him.  "We have to."

Kirk nodded.  "I know.  But it's no one else's business."

One of those faint ghost like smiles flickered across Spock's face.  "He knows too."

"Will this, being with me, bother your control?"

"To be quite honest, t’hy’la, you have always...bothered my control."

"Oh," Kirk replied, unsure of what else to say.  How had he been so blind?

“Not blind, Jim.  You did not see what I did not wish you to see."

"And now?  Now that I do see it?"

"I will always wish you to see it, Jim."

"I think I'm learning what to look for," Kirk teased, aware of a little flutter in his stomach.  He looked at Spock and smiled sheepishly.  "I guess I'm a little nervous... Wait a minute, you are too!"

"This is very serious," Spock said gravely.

"Right," Kirk said, unable to hide the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.  "So, what exactly do we do?"

Spock took a breath to steady himself, and did not bother to hide the action, Kirk noted.

"You are not Vulcan, nor a telepath," Spock said quietly, "so I must control the link.  However, the Bond must be equally enforced.  When you...sense my actions, you must counter them with your own."

"How?"

Spock nodded.  "You will know."

Kirk nodded as well, and felt an eagerness rising.  "Let's start, then."

Spock held out his hands, and Kirk took them, delighting in this new intimacy.  To hold Spock's hands in his own.  To sit here, almost naked, in their bed.  To speak of joining themselves forever...

"Jim, you must understand.  This can never be undone.  If one day you hate me, or if either of us grows sick, or demented, our Bond will remain."  Spock squeezed his hands to quiet him when he would have spoken.  "You will find that others no longer attract you as they once did.  You will never again have a truly private thought.  You will develop over time a taste for things which please me.  You will sometimes share my dreams.  And there is no escape, no end.  We could be together without this."

Kirk wanted to say immediately that he wanted this, that what Spock described sounded like paradise, but this was too serious for hyperbole or gestures.

"I have sometimes imagined my future, Spock.  In it, the Enterprise has finished her deep space explorations, and been called home.  Someone in command has offered me promotion.  McCoy has finally walked away from Starfleet.  Sulu has his own command, perhaps Chekov as well.  Everyone has moved on with their lives.  And I accept this.  I can even see the good in it.  But when I think of you..."  He shook his head, and Spock felt the faint ache of the man's thoughts.  "When I think of you off somewhere, pursuing your life without me by your side, everything seems wrong.  You have to be with *me,* Spock.  I understand that this is a price, as well as a joy that you offer me.  But to know that we will always be together, no price that is mine to give is too high."

Spock watched him, knowing that wasn't the end of it.

"I have been through so much, Spock, you know that.  I have loved, and watched women I loved turn from me, forget me, ask to raise my son without me, grow to despise me.  I have seen love die so often, Spock, that I've started to hate old married couples.  I have dreamed so often of finding a place to keep my heart, and woken so often to the knowledge that each place was taken from me, that what you describe is almost unbearably desirable.  So my independence, my separateness, my alone-ness, these will all be violated, breached, by your thoughts?  It's joy you're describing, Spock.  I want you as close as you'll allow me to bring you, and I want you to stay there until I die."

Spock seemed slightly at a loss for words.  Kirk couldn't help smiling at the unique sight of it.

Finally, the Vulcan drew his hands up, kissing Kirk's fingers, one by one, then his hands, his wrists.  When he looked up again, Jim thought he could see everything his lover was as he had never seen it before.  Such an expressive face.

"Do you know that I know you are beautiful?" Spock whispered.

Kirk shivered.  "Do you know that I know you are good?"

"Kind."

"Wise."

"Brave."

"Strong."

"Mine, Jim.  Be mine as well."

"Mine, Spock, as I am already yours."

Spock did not smile, but Jim felt the pleasure and relief through their joined hands.  And now it was his turn to place kisses along Spock's fingers and over his wrists.  Spock waited, then carefully brought Jim's hands to his face, placing the fingertips to the meld points.  When Kirk nodded, he released his hold and reached out, gently positioning his hands at the temples and down along the ridge of his cheeks.

"Our thoughts are one," Spock whispered.  "Your mind to my mind."

And it was easy, astonishingly easy, to slide into Spock's consciousness.  It was as before, their thoughts mingling, joining as though two liquids were stirred together in a bowl.

But this time, Kirk did not attempt to maintain his sense of self.  Spock's thoughts were warm and strong, and to Spock Jim's mind was sunlight and color.

There was no sense of time, nothing to tell a beginning, and there would be no end.  They traveled deeper into each other, until neither could be certain which hand touched which face, whose eyes stared forward in ebony and whose in green and gold.  There was no pain, no sense of marking or constricting.  Nothing burned, nothing broke, nothing was lost.

And eventually, their hands fell away.

Eventually, Kirk remembered how to speak.

"I had no idea."  His voice was hoarse.  How long had they been here?  He was hungry.  His muscles were cramped.

"Indeed."  Spock wanted to battle against the pains in their bodies, but that wasn't Jim's way.

"I feel...almost completely disoriented."

"We shall grow accustomed to ourselves in time."

Kirk laughed, and Spock's lips echoed a smile.  "I feel drunk."

"Then for the first time in my life I understand the appeal of alcohol."

Jim laughed again, then shook his head, rubbing at his own temples, shocked at the intimacy of his own touch.  "I want to make love to you, but I don't think I could handle it right this second."

"We would do well to eat first, and perhaps to rest."

"You're right."  Jim sat quite still on the bed, then one hand, his right, reached over and, very carefully, traced Spock's lower lip.  It seemed obscene that they weren't kissing.

*Water.  A fountain.  Sunlight,* Spock thought as their lips met.  Jim was solid and undeniable in his arms.  He opened his mouth, demanding more, and more was given.

*Heat.  Silk.  Forever,* Jim thought as he thrust his tongue into Spock's mouth, searching and finding.

Finally Jim had to leave off kissing Spock's mouth and do something he'd wanted to do, but hadn't done yet.  A life time of things to try, things to learn about the other...

"Jim, if you are hungry," Spock began.

"Later, Spock."

Spock was drawing breath to argue; Kirk could feel the reasoning through the Bond.  He kissed Spock's temple.

"You bonded with a Human," he whispered.  "We, you and I, are not always going to do the logical thing."

He moved his mouth slightly, finding the temple pulse point and felt a strong jolt surge through Spock and thus through him as well.  "Oh God," he whispered, and then let his mouth rest against that spot.

Spock shivered in his arms and tilted his head slightly.  Instinctively, Kirk began to kiss the other meld points, first softly, barely brushing his lips across hot olive skin while Spock sighed, and then a little more firmly as the sighs became moans.  When he reached the neck point, he began to kiss his way up Spock's hairline, finally reaching his earlobe.  More kisses, more moaning, until Jim reached the sharp tip of the ear.

Spock's hands were tight on his arms now, and the need in him was urging Kirk on.  He had to back off for a second, reaching for some control over himself.  And he had it, more than he ever had.  Even as Spock was letting his control drop, knowing that this was Jim's moment, he was bolstering Kirk's ability to ignore his own need.

"This Bond," Kirk said softly, into Spock's ear, "has its advantages."

"As we are discovering," Spock replied.

"Together," Kirk said, urging Spock to lie back on the bed.

"Yes," Spock said, "together."

He looked up at Kirk, who smiled down at him and then bent to kiss him.

*So many different ways to kiss,* Spock thought, wonderingly.

He felt more than heard the chuckle his thought produced, and also felt Jim's determination to try all the different ways of kissing and perhaps invent a few of their own.  Suddenly, Kirk's vast experience became less something that Spock merely ignored, and more a benefit.

Another mental chuckle and then Kirk's mouth was pulling away from his.  "Benefits of a well-rounded life, Spock."

Spock raised an eyebrow and tried to look at his lover disapprovingly.  Kirk grinned and the Vulcan felt his heart speed up.  So much open emotion, so much joy and love and *life* to the man.  "How," Spock asked, "could I *not* love you?"

He knew the answer even as Kirk opened his mouth and said, "Beats me."

Then that beloved face was leaning in again and that mouth was pressed up against his temple.  Desire blossomed like fire lilies, and Spock was gasping for breath.  He overheard a quick mental note of the spot’s location, and then that mouth was roaming again.

For Kirk, it was heat and more heat.  He caught Spock's image of fire lilies and sent one back of fire itself, the fire that crackled and arced between them like the sheet lightning on Rigel IV.  Spock's skin seemed to burn his lips as they moved further and further down.  He found the dark olive nipples, and teased each in turn, flicking his tongue across the tight, hot nubs until Spock's moans became louder and more frequent.

Knowing he could, he bit at them lightly, and made yet another mental note:  *So sensitive.*

*So talented,* was the swift reply.

*The taste of you.  Addictive.*

*You, Jim.  Addiction.*

The faint scratchiness of coarse black hair against his lips was a novel sensation, and yet it reminded him of going down on women.  And that made him think of what it would be like when he was finally between Spock's legs.  They groaned together, and Spock bucked slightly, the movement reminding Kirk that they still had their underwear on.

Again he had to draw on his new-found control as he stripped them free and settled his body between Spock's knees.

*I can feel the need you have for me, Spock.  Can you feel mine for you?*

"Yes, Jim."  And the feeling of emptiness between them -- and the joy that soon they would be filled -- rose.

Spock's legs spread out easily, drawing back to expose the dark gray-green circle Kirk just as easily anointed with his lips and tongue, exploring gently.  Everything was so different with Spock.  Everything would always be different.

Spock moaned as his tongue slid inside him, pushing against the involuntary contraction.  Kirk could feel strong fingers in his hair, and the heat radiating from the Vulcan's body seemed like silent magic.  How many beds had he visited in his life?  Why could he be so sure, and so content, to know that Spock's bed would be his last?

*Because I love you, Spock.*

The response was a whisper of syllables that Kirk heard with his ears and his mind as though it were music, or alien poetry:  Spock’s name.

Jim felt his body contract and his cock weep.  God, it *hurt* that Spock loved him.  He hadn't thought it would hurt.

"I'll never be able to pronounce it," he acknowledge again.  It was half a joke, half a sad confession.

But Spock reached a hand to his face, and the Bond whispered the name at him yet again.

The man drew a breath, held it, and then put the tip of his erection to Spock's body.  He held still for a moment, meeting dark eyes, then sunk himself down into fluid heat as his mind whispered Spock's secret name through their gossamer link.

Spock moaned, closing his eyes and spreading his legs wider.  Through the Bond, Kirk felt a surge of hunger that was almost terrifying.  He was amazed at the long-suppressed needs buried inside his lover and vowed, as he finally moved all the way inside that hot, beautiful body, to meet all of them as many times as he could.

"Yes!" Spock cried out, in answer to both the promise and the feeling of Jim inside him.  At last.  At long last.

He felt safe here, safe enough to let go of the control that defined his life in the outside world.  Jim would be his haven, a place to go where emotions were not something to be ignored, dismissed, or ashamed of.

"Always be that for you," Kirk said softly as he slowly began to move.

They both cried out as they found their rhythm, a strong, steady pace that both felt could go on forever.  And it would go on forever, Kirk thought, as his body reveled in the incredible heat of his lover's body and his mind reveled in the rich depths of his lover's mind.  "Forever," he promised, a word he knew he'd never said in bed before.

Spock knew the word for the promise it was and wrapped his strong legs around Kirk, urging him to go harder and deeper.  And then, as their new position caused Kirk's cock to hit just the right spot, they both yelled loudly, the feeling reverberating between the two of them until Kirk could feel Spock's reaction to his every movement.  So good to *know* that he was giving such amazing pleasure even as he received pleasure in return.

He thrust even harder, pumping deeply now, determined to bring out every last ounce of feeling Spock had.  Spock screamed then, the sound echoing through the link and causing Kirk to respond in kind.  Somehow, he managed to hang on, determined to see them both through this.

He could still feel a faint barrier, one last bit of Vulcan control left.  It was in his way, in *their* way, and he moved as hard and fast as he could, intending to batter through that shield.

Spock felt that determination, something he'd always loved in Kirk, and for a moment, fear surged through the Bond.

And then Kirk was there, lending him the emotional strength needed to let go, the knowledge that, to this man, emotions were a joy, not a burden.  They were, in fact, a vital necessity to Jim, and Spock suddenly needed to give his lover everything he had.
The last barrier fell, and love and lust and hunger and joy and desire all poured through the Bond, matched by the now savage pace of their physical joining.  Kirk could feel Sock trying to hold back physically, trying not to hurt him, and he growled, grabbing Spock's upper arms tightly and pounding into him with all the force he had.

And the strength and need released by that last boundary let Spock snarl and grab at his lover's hips, speeding the thrusts.  Fingers dug into soft flesh, and a whisper of the plak tow ripped through them both.  Jim reared up and slammed down, and Spock's hips rose each time from the bed to meet him.  Their need was desperate, the loneliness of their lives demanding to be slaked now, all at once.

Their minds had twined together, keeping a sense of self and other, yet stripped of everything but that sense.  When they felt the end coming, it, as with everything else, approached in perfect synch.  Together they held it off another second, and another, and then together they were lost and filled and all was bright light and searing joy.

And together they tumbled into darkness, where still the other was there.

When they awoke, Spock's sense of time let them know 11.27 hours had passed.

Kirk's stomach let them know how hungry they were.

"We're also filthy," Jim mumbled.

"Dried seminal fluid is known to facilitate the gathering of light debris."

"Just what I was thinking."

Jim sighed, and felt as contented as a child.  Spock's presence in his mind was more familiar now, and his sense of balance was returning.  As he slid now up the sheets, and turned to drape his left leg over Spock's warm body, he felt a confidence he had rarely experienced when not on the bridge.  And when he looked into his mate's eyes, he felt a happiness that was all together new.

"You are beautiful in the mornings, Jim."

The captain frowned.  "Every morning?"

Spock's face did not need to change now for Kirk to know he was smiling.  "I have seen you often as you rose from sleep, Jim.  Your face is slightly...softened, and often I have desired to touch it."  A warm, strong hand moved over the meld points of the Human's face, and Kirk felt as though his whole body were being bathed in kisses.  "So soft, and yet this is the man I have followed into chaos and death, confident in survival and honor."

"All I have achieved these last years, I owe to you," Jim whispered.

"Illogical."

"Truth sometimes is illogical, Spock."  And with his own invisible smile, Kirk let the inside of his thigh brush over Spock's half-erect shaft.

"You...have checkmated me again."

"Oh?"  A Human eyebrow was raised.

"I cannot debate logic when you make love to me."

"Hmmm."  Kirk let his leg move again, just the lightest caress, up and down.  "Am I making love to you?  You're not a very demanding bed partner, if so."

"Jim..."

"I mean, I could touch you with my elbow too, if you liked..."

Spock thrust against that soft skin, making them both gasp.  A hot hand was splayed on Jim's back, holding him closer.

"I could even...rub my...toes on your...Spock.  Spock!"

The Vulcan had rolled them over, ignoring the peril of the bed's edge, and as the hazel eyes looked at him with trust and surprise, he closed their lips in a kiss, ravaging, taking, even as quickly as it was offered.

Breaking the kiss, he rolled Jim beneath him, his fingers seeking the warm tightness they were allowed, without hesitation, to claim.  Precious minutes and drops of precum were spared to protect against pain, but the second it was acceptable, Spock took his captain, thrusting his cock into the Human's strong, luscious ass, fucking him hard, thoroughly, guided by his cries and his desire.  Balanced with his hands on Jim's raised hips, keeping his rhythm steady and sure, he felt the universe settle around him.  He belonged here.  He existed here, as he did no place other.

He looked down at Jim's head, buried in his arms, and felt the man's pleasure.  One of Jim's own barriers fell, and he knew that his mate was surprised not to feel any discomfort, or concern, in being taken this way.  He saw that Jim was allowing him something the man could not imagine allowing to another, and that vision made him grasp Jim more firmly, pulling him against him more insistently.

Would he have allowed another to do as Jim did? he wondered.  In the madness of pon farr, he knew, all was allowed, yet...

*This I do without madness.  This I choose, Jim.  This I desire, while I am Spock, your first officer, and your friend.*

Jim tried to respond with speech, and came instead, taking Spock with him, showing him his love with sparks and heat and another headlong rush into that dark, safe place.

When they climbed back out of the safe darkness, the demands of their bodies could not be ignored.  They showered and then headed toward the mess.  Kirk felt a little odd about having been locked up in their cabin for so long, but the Romulans all seemed fairly matter of fact about it.

He was ready to snap at anyone who teased them too much, but in truth, no one did.

*I suppose this crowd has seen far worse,* he thought.

*Indeed,* Spock echoed through the link.

It should have bothered Kirk that he no longer had complete privacy, that if he wanted to keep something from Spock, he would have to work on it.  But it didn't bother him in the least.  He'd been alone for so many years that lack of mental privacy seemed, as he'd said earlier, a small price to pay.  It would make birthdays difficult, though .  .  .

*I promise not to pry,* Spock told him.

"Your timing is excellent," T'Arlmon said as she joined them at their table.  She lifted an amused eyebrow at the amount of food before them, but didn't say anything more.

"Oh?" Kirk asked around a mouthful of bread.

"We'll be at the Neutral Zone in half an hour.  I'll need your access codes."

"You have access codes," Spock reminded her.  "'The best money can buy,'" he added, quoting her.

"If you don't think those codes have been changed, you're an idiot.  We'll need his to get through."  She glared at Spock.  "Don't want to trust me with them?"

"Would you?" Kirk asked.

"No, but then I'm not so famous for taking risks as *some* people."

Kirk chuckled.  "I'll punch them in.  It's not like Starfleet won't change them as soon as I contact a border station."

As if they had met their quota of problems for one mission, everything went surprisingly smoothly.

Kirk was surprised when he realized how much he would miss T'Arlmon, her smelly ship and her strange but dedicated crew.  He managed to have a few words with the Intelligence officer who was overseeing the complex issue of debriefing the Romulans.  Although surprised at his attitude, she agreed to handle the crew of T'Arlmon's Pride with care.

She then tried to talk him into going out to dinner.  Kirk could read the implied invitation easily, and found that Spock was right.  Although he could still understand why he'd once slept with her, the idea now was not particularly interesting.  It was a little strange, and he hoped desperately that he hadn't hurt her feelings by his refusal.  *Old girlfriends,* he thought on his way back to the Enterprise, *are going to be a bit of a problem.  I hope the grapevine gets the word out fast.*

"Well, well, well," a voice drawled at him as he materialized on the transporter platform.  "I actually had to move to get down here in time to catch you.  Thought Captain Andrews would be…debriefing you or something."

"Hello, Bones.  It's good to be back."

Kirk made to head toward the door.

"And where do you think you're going?  You've spent the last God knows how many weeks in Romulan space.  You could have picked up any number of weird bugs."

"Bones," Kirk protested, more out of a sense of duty than anything else.  He wondered if he should mention that he'd been on a ship with a bunch of Romulan homosexuals and, yes, it was catching.

*Perhaps not,* a dry voice remarked in his mind.  *The good Doctor has already collected me and I am in Sickbay.*

"Jim," McCoy said warningly.

Kirk held up his hands.  "OK, OK.  Sickbay."

"Now I am worried," McCoy muttered as they headed down the corridor.  "You usually don't give in so easily."

Several crewmembers nodded as they passed, obviously glad to see their captain again.  Although in uniform, he was still a bit scruffy, and as they neared Sickbay he rubbed his chin ruefully.

"You look like a damn pirate," McCoy said.  They walked into Sickbay.  "I'm surprised Spock doesn't have an earring and a parrot on his shoulder."

"A parrot?  Why should I wish to have a tropical bird on my shoulder, Doctor?"

Kirk could tell that Spock's reaction was automatic and he felt a little that way himself.  God, just seeing Spock after a few hours’ separation made his heart pound a little, his blood sing just a bit.  On top of it all, he couldn't help picturing Spock as a pirate, a thought that was rather intriguing.

Spock raised a discreet eyebrow at him.

*You Humans have rather…active imaginations.*

*It's a…strength,* Kirk thought back.

"Excuse me?"  McCoy said.  "Are you two even here?"

"We are obviously present in the room, Dr.  McCoy.  Or are you concerned that we have been replaced with Romulan spies?"

McCoy snorted and gestured towards the table while nodding at Kirk.  "If you please."

*Do you think the doctor might ask you to remove your clothing?*

*Perhaps we could just have sex on the table, and he could see what he's missing.*

"Jim?  You want to lie back?"

"Of course, Doctor."

McCoy scowled at him while running the scanner over his captain's body.  "Well, your heart-rate is a little elevated, but I take it you're just pleased to be back."

*Yes, I am.  But I also have a phaser in my pocket.*

*Life with you in my mind is certain to expose me to an endless supply of crude Human humor.*

*Complaints already, Mr. Spock?*

"Jim?  Work with me, here."

"Do you need something, Bones?"

"Well, yes.  Take off your trousers."

Spock's raised eyebrow would have sent Kirk into convulsions, if he hadn't been looking into McCoy's eyes.

"Why do you want me to do that?"

"Well, I'm just a country doctor, but I'm going to have to assume that Starfleet's report is in error."

"What report?"

"You two were supposedly unharmed by your incarceration."

"That's right, Bones."

"Then why am I reading a mass of bruises on your legs and hips?  Jim, someone's obviously been pounding you, and I really doubt you've been sleeping through it."

James Kirk tried very hard not to laugh.  If Spock's control had been a bit better, he might even have managed it.

"What's so damn funny?" McCoy roared.

"Bones," Jim said when he could speak.  "Uh...Spock and I..."

McCoy crossed his arms and waited.  His attention was caught by the strange look on Spock's face.  "What's going on here?  Did you two get into a fight?"

"Not a fight, no..."  Kirk looked completely at a loss.

*Jim, it is not logical to keep him waiting.  He needs to be told.*

*Then why don't you tell him, Spock?*

"Gentlemen!"  McCoy had his hands on his hips now.  "If you two don't start talking, I'm going to start getting ideas."

"What sort of ideas, Bones?"

McCoy frowned at them both.

And then, inevitably, his eyes went round.  His face actually paled, slightly.

"Bones?"  Kirk's face was tight, anxious, an expression of the non-expression of worry on Spock's face.

"You and Spock?"

McCoy's tone was flat and mechanical.

"*You* and *Spock?*"

"Bones..."

"Dr.  McCoy..."

"Well, I'll be a horse's ass."

"Bones?"

McCoy began to laugh, and it was quiet, at first.

By the time it had grown loud, he'd thrown his arms around his captain and friend and given him not only a hug, but a punch in the arm.  He fairly danced over to Spock and settled for a hearty slap on the shoulder, then just stood there with his hands on his stomach, and laughed even louder.

"Bones?  Uh, Bones?"

*There is little point in trying to interrupt the doctor's laughter, Jim.  Nor will we achieve much success in fending off his comments for the next several weeks.*

*Then I suggest we get out of here.  The bridge could use an inspection, and I could use some time inside you.*

*You are always inside me, t’hy’la.*

McCoy had gone to resting his hands on his knees, and each new spate of laughter was letting tears spill onto his cheeks.

Kirk hopped off the bed and waited for Spock to come to his side.  Together, they walked from Sickbay, McCoy's laughter following them into the corridor, a promise of the weeks, if not the years to come.  Dealing with him...it was going to be hell.

Jim looked into his bondmate's eyes.

*And Heaven.*

THE END
 
 
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