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Kirk knew he was old, but god he felt it whenever he came off one of these long haul diplomatic missions. He was never quite sure why the Federation kept on wheeling him out - he was an Admiral not an ambassador, and he was close to retirement. However, as the famous Captain Kirk he had been first point of contact for more new civilizations than any member of Starfleet to date, and many alien races wanted the prestige of having him lecture at their institutes of learning. He did not mind the talks themselves and the chance for the discussion; he always loved meeting people and discovering new ideas and information, even if his memory was not as good as it once was.
The travel he could do without. And the separation from Spock. The bond they shared was always perceptible to him. Distance muted it somewhat, but if he concentrated, somewhere quiet and on his own, he could just feel the space of it in his mind, a warm presence that radiated comfort and love. Not that Spock would appreciate the phenomenon of his Vulcan physiology be defined in such emotive and sentimental terms.
He stepped off the transporter pad. It was good to be on his silver lady again, even if it was just to ferry him back to Earth and Starfleet HQ. He rolled his shoulders, smiled and thanked the technician, and walked out to the corridor, nearly bumping into a frazzled McCoy.
‘Jim, thank the gods!’ he exclaimed, tricorder already out and scanning him. ‘Now, how is the leg?’
‘It’s fine. The medication they first gave me didn’t go so well…’
‘They said you swelled up like a pumpkin.’
‘…then they gave me something else to counter act that and it even fixed the pain in my leg. No broken bones, just a bit sore.’
‘You survive ten years of captaining an exploratory star ship, various run-ins with mad psychopathic superhumans, played hokey cokey with the space time continuum…’
‘Is there a point to this Bones?’ he asked, his fondness outweighing his exasperation.
‘…and you are hospitalised for two days because a door fell on you.’
Kirk felt himself smile. ‘It was a heavy door.’
Bones threw up his hands. ‘I’m not refuting that Jim. Just how? How is that the thing that finally stops you?’ He smiled through his scowl. ‘Good to have you back.’
‘Glad to be back. Is that why you came to greet me and not wait in the rec room?’ He dropped his voice into a sultry purr, purely to annoy his friend. ‘Miss me that much?’
Bones’ eyes widened in horror. ‘No, I did not.’ His expression darkened. ‘I came to warn you…’ His hand wavered. ‘You know that thing we don’t talk about. That Vulcan thing?’
If Kirk was slow on the uptake, he blamed it on the length of his journey. ‘There are lots of Vulcan things we don’t talk about.’
Bones raised an eyebrow, his voice a whisper. ‘No. That Vulcan thing.’
Oh.
Kirk was confused. ‘We thought it was a few months off.’
Bones sighed. ‘Well, M’Benga thinks that he might have felt your pain through the bond when the door fell on you, and through your allergic reaction. No doubt the emotional stress – not that the green-blooded hobgoblin would admit to emotional anything –‘
Not to anyone but me, thought Kirk, hit by a wave of longing.
‘- upset his psychic controls, which probably unsettled him hormonally, therefore speeding up the process. So, hide your Plomeek soup.’
Kirk sighed. ‘You are never going to forget about the soup are you?’
‘Chapel certainly won’t.’
Kirk felt an uneasiness settle over his skin. ‘Where is Spock?’
McCoy crossed his arms, an angry moue on his face. ‘I left him in your quarters. He is already experiencing moodiness, a slight fever…’ McCoy ran his hand through his hair. ‘I wanted to check on your health, run full diagnostics before I let him at you… Damnit Jim, I’m a doctor not the madam of some space bordello!’
Kirk couldn’t help laughing at his friend, even if he could appreciate his concern for him.
They were interrupted by the approach of Spock dressed in his black professor robes, like the night sky sweeping over the sunset. He was graceful and terrifying in his purpose, eyes locked onto Jim’s. With a few long strides he had reached them.
Jim had just taken a breath, every intent to greet his bondmate (he had been slightly distracted by his joy at seeing him again, and by how dangerous and gorgeous he looked), but before he could speak somehow Spock had lifted him up and onto his shoulders. Caveman style, or if Jim was a damsel in distress from an early Terran melodrama. He started walking swiftly towards their quarters, unimpeded by his burden.
McCoy had made the wise decision of backing away from them as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t resist a gripe. ‘Yeah, good morning to you too, Spock!’
Spock gave him a contemptuous look over the back of the shoulder that did not have Kirk slung over it. ‘T’nash-veh’ he growled. Mine.
*
Kirk was happy to be manhandled, but he would have preferred their reunion to be in softer lighting and after a long hot shower. Never was he more aware of his older, fatter body, with its wrinkles and sagging muscles, then standing under the bright lights in the centre of his quarters in front of Spock, who though greyer and weathered was still lean and with the grace of a le matya. Spock had barely said a word, the blood fever causing his pupils to dilate to almost black. Kirk held out his left hand, his fingers positioned in the ozh’esta, his other hand at his side, palm forward to show it held nothing. ‘Ashau,’ he said softly.
Love. Kirk was not sure if he meant it as an endearment or a call to action.
Spock slowly stepped up to him, his hand to his completing the Vulcan kiss. Slow shivers of heat ran through their joined fingertips and down Kirk’s arm, the bond in Kirk’s mind thrumming like a butterfly opening its wings. Spock slowly placed his other hand on Kirk’s bicep, trailing it down until he entwined their fingers together.
Red-hot lust swept over Kirk, as Spock projected the ferocity of his desire over the bond. Kirk felt himself shiver, his skin heating, and he deliberately scraped a thumbnail over Spock’s palm.
Spock swiftly broke the ozh’esta to grip the back of Kirk’s neck and kiss him. It was not gentle or sweet, nothing of the calm measured Vulcan, but pure and almost bestial need. Spock, usually so caring of Jim’s desires, so careful and tender, was aggressive and demanding, his hot rasped tongue pushing past Kirk’s lips, pulling the strands of hair at the back of the neck roughly. He then quickly moved both of Kirk’s hands to behind his back, holding them with a strength that the human would not be able to break free from. He pushed himself closer to Kirk and pulled his mate to him, leaving no space between their bodies.
He moved his lips away from Kirk’s and moved them down his neck, licking and nibbling where his scent would be strongest. One-handed he kept Kirk restrained while the other moved down, squeezing Kirk’s ass.
Kirk was at the mercy of his bondmate, knowing there was no way he could physically free himself. Whatever Spock had in mind, whatever he wanted to do, Kirk was not strong enough to stop him. He could only stay where he was, pinned between Spock’s hands and his body, his bondmate’s obvious arousal pressing into his thigh.
As welcomes home went, this was one of the best.
Kirk could not form coherent thoughts let alone words. His body relaxed, becoming more pliant, like a ragdoll in Spock’s arms. He moaned softly, safe in the knowledge that even in the throes of pon farr Spock would not hurt him. Well, any more than he wanted to be hurt.
As if reading his mind (which he may have been), Spock nipped sharply at his collarbone, soothing it after with a gentle kiss. Before Kirk could register what that sharp ripping sound was, he found himself swept up and thrown onto the bed. There was a slight twinge of discomfort in his leg, but the adrenaline and arousal sweeping through his system dulled it instantaneously. He was more concerned with how naked his torso was, Spock slowly moving down towards his abdomen, soft lips followed by sharp nails.
‘Wouldn’t it have been more logical for me to just have taken my uniform off?’ he chuckled, but was silenced by Spock’s low growl. Kirk’s blood boiled, and he felt a dizzy anticipation, as if he were on a high rollercoaster about to plummet down. He saw Spock peel down his trousers and underwear, taking extra care to gently roll them off the leg that had been injured. Spock quickly untied his robes, revealing a body that would have made Rodin weep, then lowered himself on top of Kirk, joining them together at the lips and the hips.
Usually Spock, his biology more Vulcan than human, would be cooler than Kirk. When they embraced, it felt like slipping into cool water on an uncomfortably hot day. Yet, the plak-tau had made Spock’s flesh burn.
A djinn, bubbled into Kirk’s brain, created from smokeless fire.
Spock suddenly flipped him onto his stomach, and trailed his fingers over his back. Occasionally he would dig his nails in, and Kirk squirmed, moaning into the bedsheet. He felt Spock drag him by the hips so he was kneeling, braced on his elbows, then felt Spock lean over him to whisper in his ear.
‘I would have your sounds, Jim. I want to hear every noise you make. Everything you have, everything you are, is mine.’
Spock moved back, and Kirk could feel his fingers pulling apart his cheeks and lightly rubbing against his entrance. Warm breath over his hole. Before he could protest, he felt a tongue circle over the rim, the movements gradually getting wider and deeper. A hot, lubed (where did he get lube, is he a magician?) hand started squeezing his cock, long strokes up and down, massaging the head. He could feel himself melt.
‘God, that’s so good…’ he panted, yelping when Spock gave a sharp nip to his upper thigh. Spock resumed with his tongue, adding a lubed finger, then after a time a second. The sensation oscillated between pleasure and pain, as finely balanced as spinning plates, until Kirk felt a soft press inside of him. He shuddered as Spock rubbed that sweet spot inside him, speeding up the hand on his cock. The friction, the heat, the pressure, sweet gods, it was just…
Kirk came with a shout that he hardly heard, his body trembling. He found himself on his back, Spock leaning over him, moving and bending his legs, pulling him open. Spock circled the tip, thick and flushed an olive green, round the edge of Kirk’s entrance. Three fingers were held to his face, in the meld position, and Kirk smiled. ‘Yes,’ he breathed.
No sooner had he consented, he felt Spock meld with him. It was beautiful, like being bathed in sunlight after years in darkness, or hearing music after being kept in silence, except it was more than that and he would never be able to articulate how wonderful it was. He felt Spock’s desire curling round his mind, but also his love.
He felt Spock moving slowly, taking the fingers off his face, burying inside him to the hilt, and then slowly withdraw. It was painful, it was exquisite. He did this for a few times, the stretch and burn fading to leave nothing but pure molten pleasure cascading through Kirk as Spock sped up his thrusts. Through the meld he felt his pleasure and also Spock’s – the duality of being penetrated and penetrating, both conqueror and conquered.
After minutes or maybe days he could feel that build of pressure in his groin, could feel Spock’s rhythm become more erratic. He felt Spock’s hand cup around his cock and the pressure was too much, so wonderfully too much…
He could feel Spock come in him, that warm throb of his release, and it set off his own, a moment of pure pleasure that whited out his thoughts. His bondmate withdrew carefully and collapsed on his side next to him, drawing him in. They were sticky and in desperate need of a shower and clean sheets, but Kirk was content to let their bodies warm each other for a few moments.
‘Jim,’ began Spock, his voice back to his normal sedate tone. ‘I think you may have a few moments before the fever hits again. A shower and a hot meal may be prudent, and it is perhaps best to utilise this opportunity before I have need of you again’
Kirk raised an eyebrow. ‘A few moments? Such a statement does not fulfil your usual exacting standards of accuracy Mister Spock.’ He licked his lips, sated but still enjoying the heat in Spock’s eyes as he followed the movement.
As it was he had only time for a quick sandwich, a glass of cold water and only a few minutes under the sonic shower before Spock sought him out.