Chapter 17: It's Hot in Here

The rest of their evening was awkward, to say the least. They did speak, but it was stilted, halting. Almost as if they had jumped to right after Narada, when they could speak pleasantly to one another, but just barely.

At one point Spock said something, Jim doesn't even remember what, but in such a cold, blank way—a way he hadn't used in years when talking to Jim—that the Captain of the USS Enterprise crushed the glass of scotch he was holding, sending glass and the liquid across the floor, his shoes, and into his hand.

They didn't even talk as Spock pulled fragments of glass from his hand with replicated tweezers. Jim refused pain killer in preference to drinking the scotch right out of the bottle he'd illegally replicated not and hour before. God he was turning into his mother.

Now, he was lying on his bed, staring at the slowly rotating ceiling fan, listening to the rain gently tap at the screen in his windows. He was pretty drunk, more drunk than the night, last night actually, that he and Spock had kissed for the first time. Jesus Christ it felt like weeks ago, because Jim was not only back to square one in his more-than-friends relationship with his first officer, but in their friendship as well.

There was a faint rustle of sheets and Jim let his eyes slide over to Spock's dark figure, now lying on its side and facing away from him. Even in the near perfect darkness he could make that much out. At least Spock hadn't wanted to sleep down stairs on the couch. But there were pros and cons. Now Jim couldn't drink himself to oblivion in peace.

Maybe this house was bringing out bad habits. But you never really kick them, do you? He could go down stairs right now, Spock probably wouldn't stop him, and dust off one of those habits. He could sleep on the couch.

Jim let his head roll back to the ceiling. He wasn't a child anymore. He could get through this. This wasn't the first time he'd been rejected halfway–even if it was Spock, one of the few people he actually cared about in the galaxy.

The only one left he loved.

Jim closed his eyes, rolling away from Spock, facing the opposite way, curling himself the opposite way. After all the bastard had betrayed... betrayed...

The thought slipped away from him, and Jim forgot. Instead he awaited the images. It had been happening ever since he'd come off drugged sleep. The barrage of horrible pictures that assaulted him at his weakest moment, tearing through his conscious mind like starved beasts, clenching his fists, accelerating his breathing, squeezing his eyes shut. They had yet to bring on an attack , but it was only a matter of time.

And they came. Kahn squeezing Marcus's head until it exploded, the look in Pike's eyes as he died, the burning, the horrible pain, everything going white as he went blind, staring at Spock's hand centimeters away, his collapsing lungs choking his last words.

But the panic didn't come, the sickening terror that made him sit straight up in bed. The memories were his, but it was like he'd seen the events on HV, not like they had happened to him. All the emotions associated with them, they were dulled, detached.

That set off warning bells in Jim's head that something wasn't right, but just as the thought came to mind, it scattered, disappearing, and Jim forgot that anything was ever amiss. For the first time since he died, Jim drifted into sleep, relatively content.

Something snapped. A bone, he thinks. Pain. Burning. Terror. Such sheer terror his senses went onto overload and he could actually taste it. It smelled like something was burning. No, someone was burning.

"Jim!" Someone screamed, and there was a sharp sting on his cheek that was so much different than the phantom pain it slapped him into consciousness. His eyes flew open and he sucked in a huge breath of air, by God he was half way to asphyxiating himself.

"Thank God." if Jim hadn't been busy trying to return oxygen to his lungs then he would have given Spock a look for saying something half as shocking as that. Jim unclenched his fists from his sheets, surprised at how they ached. How tight was he gripping the fabric?

"What the hell happened?" Jim choked out, coughing out the rasp in his voice.

"You began thrashing in your sleep approximately ten minutes ago, and my attempts to rouse you failed. You did not begin to scream until one minute, forty-three seconds ago. Had you reached the two minute mark, I was going to call Doctor McCoy for fear you would asphyxiate."

"Wait, I screamed for nearly two minutes?" Jim rubbed his forehead. "Jesus Christ."

"Nearing the time you awoke, it was less of a scream and more of an exhale." Jim snorted. It was rather ridiculous. In a disturbing sort of way.

"Jim, this is not a laughing matter."

"No, but it is rather ridiculous." Jim actually watched as Spock took in, processed, and disregarded Jim's comment as irrelevant, as it all appeared on his face, painted there like a picture. Jim was getting good at reading his first officer, or Spock was very tired. It had to be choice number two, because Spock had shut himself off from Jim this afternoon.

The man leaned forward slightly, and only now did Jim realize that the man was completely on his bed, wearing only boxer briefs and a StarFleet issued undershirt—and Jim was only wearing the boxer briefs.

He had to try again. He needed Spock, and if he was rejected again, well, then he would stop.

"Do you remember anything?" Jim paused to process the question, about to answer no, but then the faintest snippets flitted across his consciousness, disappearing almost as fast as they came.

"Fire, smoke, something is burning," Jim paused and then it hit him. "Oh God, someone is burning."

"Radiation burns such as the ones you suffered in the reactor?" Spock intoned, voice as flat as it had been all day, the panic and urgency draining away. Damn it, no. Jim would not let him submerge again.

"No," Jim shook his head and squeezed his temples with his right hand. "It was a fire, and I could smell someone burning. And, and... Gah that's all I remember." Spock placed a hand on his shoulder. Jim looked up under his lashes, pinprick pupils boring into Spock's glossy dark eyes.

"This is progress, for before you remembered nothing." Jim nodded, but he wasn't really sure. He preferred it when he remembered nothing.

They didn't speak for a few moments, and Spock tensed to pull away, but Jim wrapped his hand over his friend's. "Jim," Spock sounded faintly exasperated, breaking eye contact. But it wasn't exasperation. Desperation?

"Please," Jim murmured, putting on his best begging eyes-the sexy kind. But he knew his own desperation bled through. He couldn't lose, not when he was so close. He needed Spock, in more ways than even he could comprehend. He loved him.

Spock wavered, just for a second, his face softened, before the walls shot back up.

"You need sleep Captain." Spock dropped his hand from Jim's shoulder, Jim's fingers trailing uselessly after them.

"No," Jim said to the pulling away and to Spock's suggestion. "I don't."

Jim rolled up onto his haunches, planted his elbow on the comforter, reached forward, and captured Spock's lips with his. His first officer didn't pull away, or push Jim away. He kissed back, shoulders dropping into the kiss. Spock's mouth was warm, soft, and his tongue on Jim's lower lip was wet. Jim broke the kiss for a second to pull himself closer, getting up onto his knees, grabbing Spock's face and staring into those dark eyes for a moment before dipping down again.

There was nothing sweet about this kiss, Jim was tired of taking it slow and gentle. Besides, every time Spock touched his face, Jim got a whisper of his feelings. And it was easy enough to see Spock wanted it almost as badly as he did. And his tight briefs didn't hide much either.

Jim ripped into his number one, not slowing up and barely pausing to breathe between lip locks. He held the half vulcan's face tight between his hands, allowing only for minimal movement as he went in again and again and again, nipping Spock's lip and biting into his jaw. Jim moved forward even further, locking the mans thighs between his knees as he moved one hand from Spock's face to fist tightly in his hair, the other holding his shoulder, noting the nice muscle underneath. Jim then went to work on Spock's neck, kissing and licking and biting down, once hard enough to draw a quick inhale from Spock, who was largely unresponsive beneath him.

Come to think of it, the man had barely been responding to any of Jim.

"Spock, this isn't going to work if you don't feel it." Jim sits back on his heels, bed creaking beneath him. To Jim's increasing dismay, Spock had his Vulcan face on. Jim sighed, running a shaking hand through his hair. He had been pretty rough, rougher than he'd ever been with a woman, but Spock could take it. So why did he feel so guilty? "You have to give me something." Spock blinked at him owlishly.

"Jim, you know I am..." Spock looked away, "Uncomfortable in many human social situations. This situation is the... most difficult for me to function correctly in." Jim scooted forward to sit beside Spock, swinging his legs off the side of the bed like his first officer. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Spock, its the most difficult for most of us, but also one of the most fun. Well, I think it is the most fun, but some people may disagree with me." Spock turned to face him, for the first time seeming uncomfortable with his body, out of control, if not in the way Jim wanted him to be out of control.

"How..."

{*WARNING: basically porn from here down. Don't read if you don't like*}

"Let go," Jim said, climbing back onto his bed, lying prone on the mattress, spreading his legs and arms. "I'll even sub if you want, if that's easier for you." Jim had never subbed in his life, and had never planned to, but if it made Spock more comfortable, then he'd make some sacrifices.

Spock looked down and took a deep breath. When he turned and opened his eyes, it was a different Spock.

His pupils were blown and his eyes narrowed, chin jutted out and neck taught, shoulders rolled aggressively forward, mouth open in the faintest snarl. He turned and moved onto the bed, more lithe than Jim had ever seen the slightly awkward commander.

Fuck.

Jim's dick twitched and he bit his lip. It was way to early for him to be falling to pieces. But God he'd wanted this so bad, and it was finally happening. It was finally fucking happening.

Spock pulled Jim's boxers off his legs, leaving him naked and spread eagled on the bed, while he remained fully clothed. That turned Jim on even more, and his dick bobbed to life.

Spock moved over the top of him, sinking one hand into Jim's hair and bracing himself with the other. Then he proceeded to kiss Jim just as harshly as Jim had kissed him before, tongue and teeth and slick sliding and a sizable hickey on Jim's neck. Every once and a while Spock's clothes would brush Jim's dick, and he would groan and thrust upward, trying to get anything to satiate his growing arousal. Spock, in keeping with his letting go, would sometimes inhale or exhale in a different pattern than usual.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore.

"Spock, take, your, damn, clothes, off," Jim panted, he'd barely been touched and he was halfway there. The man smirked, actually smirked, and took his damn time leaving Jim's chest to remove his own clothing. He returned, and now that they were both completely naked, things began to heat up.

Jim grabbed both their penises, eliciting a minor moan from Spock as he began to work them, at first with two hands, and then with one hand together. Next time he'd grab lube or lotion or something to make them even slicker, but he really didn't give a shit this time, doing everything he liked to both himself and Spock, and getting paid in kind.

Then Spock ran a finger up his ass.

Jim gasped, half in surprise. Jim didn't even know Spock knew... Maybe Uhura...? Thoughts of Uhura turned him down a little, but Spock added another finger and it turned him right back up. He forgot what he was doing and lay back on the bed, squirming and grabbing the the edges of the mattress as best he could. When he'd offered to sub, he didn't know he was going to end up bottoming too. He'd never bottomed in his life either, but-ah- it was-hh- definitely not- oh- unpleasant.

Then Spock fucked him.

"Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking christ!" Jim groaned, arching up. It fucking hurt the first time. Spock leaned up in and kissed him, and Jim hungrily returned it. Spock had to know how much Jim trusted him. Jim fucked —he wasn't fucked.

But damn, it was something else, giving himself up like this. It was hot. Very, very hot. And all on the bed he'd slept in as a teenager.

Spock began to move, and then thrust, and at first it was painful, and then pleasant, and then Spock started hitting this one spot, his prostate or whatever, and Jim started panting, and moaning and calling out Spock's name as he got closer and closer.

Jim's hands ran all over Spock, and Spock seemingly copied Jim in his moments over Jim's body. Jim, ever vocal, gasped and moaned and arched into every touch, opening his mouth wide and breathing hot and heavy. Spock, when he made any noise, it was usually some form of gasp, and gone as fast as it came.

But even Spock seemed to be getting close, breath coming heavier, faster, his thrusts changing speed. Jim himself was getting nearer, rubbing his dick with one hand, holding onto Spock with the other.

"Uhh, uhh, uhh," Jim grunted, each thrust shoving him up into his pillow, his head thrown back, blue eyes hooded, mouth open and wet from their kisses. He came loudly, and Spock came a few seconds later with a gasp and a stutter in his previously flawless pace. Thrusting a few more times into Jim's orgasmic bliss, he pulled out and rolled off of Jim, who was still gasping beside him.

Jim threw an arm over Spock's sticky chest and smiled dopily at him, still riding his high.

"That was fucking amazing," he said seriously, dropping his head beside Spock's.

"Indeed," was the breathy reply, and Spock shifted their positions so they each had an arm around each other.

Jim stared into a suddenly human face. All Spock's emotions were there. Bliss, joy, the emptiness that followed an intense orgasm. And those eyes. Soft and full of something that had Jim leaning in a kissing Spock sweetly.

They feel asleep like that, intertwined and in love.

Well, at least Jim hoped so.

So yay, some sexy goodness here, if very delayed. I'm so sorry for the wait, life has just gotten crazy, but I really want to finish this story! I know where I want it to go and how I want it to end to. Basically, I'm looking for a beta. Does anybody know one or want to be mine?

The writers block may have something to do with the porn writing. Idk, it doesn't flow sometimes like other scenes.

But some really heavy sexy stuff next chapter before it tones down again, for a while, at least.

Anyway, sorry for the late update!

-Natcat