Part 1

I fight myself out of the dreams. They torment me with their eroticism, and they push my deeply hidden and suppressed emotions to the surface. I am sweating and my heart rate is too quick. The arousal is flooding my body once again and I fight to control it. I move my hands to my face and cover my eyes. I have a futile hope that this simple act will drive the images away. It does not help. I do not know what to do. Shielding does not prevent the dreams from coming. Meditation helps temporarily, during my waking hours, but at the very moment I lie down to sleep, I know there is nothing I can do to stop the dreams from claiming me. They are getting increasingly more detailed, more explicit and I do not know how long I can take it.

I rise from the bed and watch the chronometer. My shift begins in approximately two hours. I see no reason to try and sleep again. I shower quickly and dress. Moments later, I am sitting at the work console in my quarters, doing research on the planet we will reach shortly. However, I have trouble focusing on the task I have appointed myself.

I am aware that most off-worlders think I am without emotion. I am Vulcan and, as such, many of my crewmates believe that my feelings are buried deep inside and never surface. Indeed, I am gratified that they believe this to be true. However, it is not true. Vulcans have feelings, and they surface occasionally. Our emotions are stronger than most are aware of, but we learn to control, and sometimes even suppress them at a very early age. What most off-worlders do not know is that our emotions can be volatile. I, being half-human, have had to fight them even more than most.

I have been defeated in my struggles only on a few rare occasions. Those occurrences have been when I was subjected to external stimuli over which I had no control. For example; when I was ridden by the pon farr or when I was subjected to the spores on Omicron Ceti III. And yet, lately, I have felt the control slipping. I wonder to myself if I should leave. I do not wish to, but my wishes are of little consequence if I can no longer keep my emotions in check. I have not felt this way before, and little of my life-experience has prepared me for this. It is almost like the pon farr, but it is not yet my time.

I do not know what brought this on. I am at a loss to explain the chain of events even to myself. It has been a slow development, creeping up on me in the privacy of my quarters. These nightly dreams, I do not have the ability to stop, have taunted me for months on end. They have forced me to acknowledge the truth in what I feel.

What are these feelings? I clench my jaw as I realize what name I should put on them, but I force myself to acknowledge them. Trying to ignore them at this point would prove futile. This turmoil inside me consists of many different feelings, such as desire, love, tenderness and jealousy - even an amount of hatred. Yes, I feel resentment towards him for making me feel this way. It is not logical. All I want this very moment is to tell the one whom I desire how I feel. That too, is illogical, because James T. Kirk would not find these emotions welcome.

The entire prospect of being attracted to a male is preposterous. There is no sense in that. Lust and passion are feelings driven by the need to procreate, and that is something he and I could never do. There would never be any evidence of our joining of mind or body such as a new life. I sigh, that alone evidence of how little control I have left. I rub my eyes. I am tired. I do not need as much sleep as humans do. Unfortunately, I have not slept well for several days and the fatigue is beginning to affect my performance. The dreams haunt me and it is an indisputable fact that even a Vulcan needs rest and sustenance after a time.

I am abandoning my scientific research for the time being. I do not seem to be able to concentrate. Furthermore, I believe that I know enough of the Paliinderan people to be able to perform my duties satisfactorily. Some cultural customs of this people are such that I will have to set aside my Vulcan heritage in order to fulfill my duties. I will have to rely on my telepathic strengths to endure this. Normally it would be no great effort, but it is not a good time at this moment. However, there is no use in fighting it. This treaty is important to the Federation and there is no other on the Enterprise who can perform my appointed task. If we perform our duty in a satisfactory way, the Paliinderans may become a member of the Federation of Planets in the foreseeable future.

"Captain Kirk to Mr. Spock." The golden tones of his voice reach me through the com-system and interrupt me from my musings.

"Spock here, Captain," I respond. "What seems to be the problem?" I instantly wish I had phrased my query differently, but my thoughts wander and I am - distracted. I do know why he is contacting me, and it disturbs me that I lost sight of that even for a moment.

"There is no problem Mr. Spock," he replies. His voice is patient, and I am grateful, for it is not the first time over the previous week that I have been acting out of character. "We've reached the planet. I need your assistance. Join the landing party in ten minutes."

"Acknowledged, Captain. Spock out."

I am not surprised at my own recurring strange behavior given the fact that I know what causes it, but the captain most likely will confront me about it soon. I have seen the worry in his hazel eyes, and I know he will not stand idly by now that he realizes it is not a passing occurrence. I straighten up, pull down my blue shirt, and move towards the transporter room.

When I reach it, the captain and Dr. McCoy are already there. The good doctor has been trying to get me to come to Sickbay, but so far I have been able to avoid him. He shoots me a worried glance, and I lift an eyebrow at him. I know how much that innocuous action annoys him, and I can not stop myself from enjoying this game we play. I think the doctor is one of the few people who know me as well as Jim does. McCoy knows that I am not an unfeeling beast even though he likes to give the impression that he does think that I am at certain times.

"Ready, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, sir," I nod curtly towards the captain as I take my place beside him on the transporter pad. I try to ignore the subtle emotional warmth that reaches me in waves from his mind as we stand there. Does he know how the feelings of friendship and loyalty he always sends toward me make me feel? No, I would think not. Only two weeks ago I would not have been affected this way, and if he knew, it would appall him. I feel like I have betrayed him on some subconscious level. Spock of Vulcan, the last person on the Enterprise he would ever suspect having these emotions for him - I want him, and need him more than any other person in this universe. The swirls from the transporter claim me and interrupt my thoughts. Shortly, we end up on the planet surface.

"Welcome to Paliindera," the Emissary says. We have been negotiating with her and her aide for several days now over subspace. At last, we have come to an agreement. The Federation will be allowed to re-supply their ships on this planet. We thank the Emissary courteously, for it is indeed a most welcome treaty.

They are a telepathic race and they, like Vulcans, do not touch people casually. This is why I have been asked to join this landing party, as the resident expert on telepathy and the necessary protocols involved in such a situation. I am to serve as a form of translator for these discussions. The Emissary bows gracefully toward me and I return the courtesy.

What we are doing now is a mere formality. We are ending the negotiations by meeting in person and signing the documents necessary to make the treaty between Paliindera and the Federation official. I do not expect trouble. She ushers us forward into a big hall, decorated with soft fabrics in different shades of red. It vaguely reminds me of the desert sands on my home world. I find it oddly comforting.

"Please, sit," the Emissary says. Her voice is rough, almost like a male voice, and I sense that the Paliinderans do not speak more than absolutely necessary.

The Paliinderan council, Dr. McCoy, Captain Kirk and I are seated by a large, round table with a statue in the middle. The statue is portraying the Kari'fal deity. It is the Paliinderan's most treasured goddess, because she nurtures the positive emotions most humanoid beings have in common. These emotions include love, in all its shapes, loyalty, tenderness and selflessness.

The discussions begin, and I am forced to focus on what is happening. The Emissary reaches out for my hand, and I give it to her, knowing that this is what I am assigned to do. I shield everything that has nothing to do with this treaty from her. She lifts an eyebrow at me and if I were human, I would most certainly laugh, because the action is so much like my own. I return the gesture, and she does not comment on my shielding any further. The treaty, and its conditions, is repeated to me by the Emissary through our telepathic link. I state the intentions of the Federation. She appears to be relieved at being able to convey their terms through me, not having to use her voice much. I am gratified that my presence makes it easier for her. As the discussion is coming to an end, she releases my hand and nods. Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, the Emissary and her aide have come to an agreement. The four of them sign the treaty and it is now official. It is a relief.

I find my thoughts drifting again. Jim is sitting right next to me, and I find it strenuous to keep my shields up. I try not to think about him, sitting so close to me. It is more difficult than ever before, and I feel a strong sense of apprehension. I am not in control and now I have to lower my shields for the next phase in these proceedings, or the Paliinderans will find my actions most ungrateful. Knowing I am Vulcan they are probably also aware of my people's views on their telepathy, but the old Earth idiom "When in Rome, do as the Romans do" comes to mind, and I steel myself against what I know is to come.

I watch the statue of Kari'fal as it begins to turn on the table. This is the indication that the meeting is over. The statue is used as a telepathic enhancer and sends an emotion toward each of those attending the meeting. The statue picks up on an emotion that is strong and close to the surface within the recipient, and enhances it. It does not focus on destructive emotions, however. I find that, despite my uneasiness, I am oddly curious about this, but given the emotional state I am in, it feels like an intrusion.

The emotion flows into me, stronger than anything I have ever felt. The passion nearly overwhelms me. My thoughts have occupied themselves with Jim too much of late, that is obvious to me at this moment. Then the statue leaves me to focus on Jim. He leans back in his chair and smiles. I quench the longing that rises within me. I want to turn away but I cannot. He accepts the emotion flooding toward him readily and is obviously enjoying it. What is he feeling, I wonder. It is over within few moments and the statue moves toward Dr. McCoy. I feel a sense of companionship with him as our eyes meet for a short time. He fears the procedure as well, but accepts it like a Star Fleet officer.

I have to admit that there is a scientific curiosity within me. I wonder how this statue works. I move to rise from the table as I admit certain truths to myself. There have been times in my life when I have felt a very illogical sense of having missed exploring certain parts of my psyche. I have wanted to familiarize myself with the emotions I am capable of feeling. Most of the time I am efficient in burying these notions. I may be half-human, but I have been raised on Vulcan and I have chosen the Vulcan way. However, at this moment, my wish to explore some of those emotions is stronger than ever before.

"Thank you, Emissary," Jim says beside me and I am roused from my musings. I realize that I have been trying to occupy my mind with other things than thoughts of my captain over the course of this meeting and for once I have succeeded. I am not sure those stray thoughts have helped though, since they have greatly disturbed me. My eyes linger on the statue on the table before I tear my gaze away. The sensation of the emotion it sent to me is unsettling and intrusive. I will need to meditate to keep my balance.

Jim's hand suddenly rests on my arm and it is like a piece of steaming hot metal searing through the fabric of my clothes, his tentative touch branding me. I close my eyes for a brief moment, trying to collect myself and push away the sudden flood of desire that flows through me. I am again glad that Jim is not a telepath or I would have revealed myself long ago. I shrug his hand off, not very subtly, and he looks at me with concern in his eyes.

"Mr. Spock, are you all right?" he asks.

I nod. "I am perfectly fine, Captain," and I move away from him while I continue speaking.

"Spock, are you sure? You look a little - green," McCoy's says worriedly. His sense of modesty and tact is not among the best. I refrain from responding.

"I believe we are done here, are we not?"

"Yes, yes, Spock. We are finished."

"I would like you to stay for this night's feast, if you please," the Emissary's deep voice says as we turn to leave. I know that we are not going to be able to 'worm our way out of this one', as our tactful Dr. McCoy would say. He does look uneasy at the invitation. For once we are in agreement.

\ Spock of Vulcan, \ a soothing voice - vastly different from her physical one - echoes in my mind. Still, I know it well. It appears the Emissary is more than just a touch telepath. She can reach me without a physical connection.

\ Yes, Your Eminence, \ I reply, a little disconcerted at her contacting me privately during such an official meeting.

\ Calm yourself. There is no need for concern, \ she says. I turn toward her. She is a pleasant-looking woman, not particularly alien to us. The only difference between her and a human or a Vulcan is the color of her skin. It is slightly reddish with a golden glow, closer to the native Americans than anything else, but her hair is so blond it is almost white; a very striking combination. I lift an eyebrow at her in query.

\ It is the way it should be, Spock of Vulcan, \ she says and leaves me even more puzzled as she turns and exits the room through a back door. I surmise that we have been dismissed.

Two of her servants usher us out of the room and toward a long corridor.

"These are your rooms," one of them explains and shows us inside. The quarters they have provided us are more than adequate but I still feel trapped, knowing I have to share these closed quarters with my captain. Thankfully the doctor will also be there.

"Enterprise to Captain Kirk," Lieutenant Uhura's voice interrupts my musings.

"Kirk here," Jim answers.

"There's been a complication in Sickbay. Dr. Jarod has been incapacitated."

"Explain."

"He has taken ill, Captain."

"Is it serious?"

"Nurse Chapel insists that it is only a viral infection, but she does not have back-up. She has been on duty for 24 hours straight, and Nurse Bediya needs assistance."

"All right. Dr. McCoy will beam back to the Enterprise. Kirk out."

Jim flips off the communicator and looks at McCoy with amusement in his eyes. "Bones," he says. "It appears you're off the hook."

Dr. McCoy's relief at being allowed to leave is evident. He does not care for diplomatic, official gatherings in the least.

"Yes, sir," he replies with a very smug look on his face and I find myself wishing I could trade places with him. However, it is illogical to wish for the impossible

In the course of a few minutes, the safety of the doctor's presence has been stolen from me. I look around the room and as the transporter claims McCoy it seems as if the beam also steals space from the room. As if by removing McCoy, the room becomes smaller. I blink and close my eyes briefly. This has gone on long enough.

"Excuse me, Captain. I need to meditate."

"Are you all right, Spock?" he asks with concern in his voice.

"I will be as soon as I regain equilibrium," I say as I move from him to sit by one of the vacant beds. It is no use to lie to him, and it is not in me to do so. Additionally, he is concerned for me, and it is only prudent of me to further cement his belief that it is due to the telepathic link with the Emissary that I am off balance.

"Will you be all right at the feast tonight?"

"I will be just fine, Captain, as long as I am allowed to meditate," I quirk my eyebrow pointedly at him and he takes the not very subtle hint. He looks at me for a moment, but I ignore him. He is concerned. I can sense it. He does not like the way I act, but I can not help myself, the knowledge of which only serves to further my imbalance. I wish him to leave me alone. I sit cross-legged with my hands resting on my kneecaps, palms turned upward and my eyes closed.

I can still feel Jim's eyes on me. It is not only distracting, it is also disconcerting. I find myself having difficulties reaching the meditative state I need to calm down enough to live through the next 24 hours without being pushed over that precarious edge.

What would Jim say if I lost my composure? I dare not think about it.

*

Part 2

*

Spock is not acting himself. If I didn't know him better I would say that he is simply nervous, and feeling uncomfortable, but my gut tells me that there's more to it than that. At first I thought it was the meeting with the Emissary. I know that even if he is a telepath and will use his powers in the line of duty if necessary, he finds the notion of touching people he does not know disconcerting. Hell, he doesn't even like to touch people he does know. In fact, I think I am the only one that he ever touches voluntarily and lately he hasn't been doing that either. I am worried about him. He looks tired and strained, but he doesn't want to talk about it. I know, because I've tried to reach him.

I have finally come to the conclusion that these negotiations are harder on him than I realized. His strange behavior started only days after we began negotiating with the Pailinderans. Maybe the telepathic link to them is doing this to him? He is so off balance. His reaction to my touching him proves that. I know that it isn't personal, but still the ice-cold rejection from him pains me. But my pain isn't important right now. I allow him his privacy when he tries to meditate, but he seems to have difficulties regaining his balance.

"Do you want me to leave, Spock?" I finally ask. He opens his eyes, pain and turmoil evident in his dark gaze.

"I do not wish to force you to leave, Captain," he says. But I can sense the need to be alone there, so I simply nod at him. This man is my friend, and I know him better than any other man in this universe. I care more deeply for him than any other person I know. How could I deny him privacy when I can clearly see how disturbed he is by whatever is bothering him.

"It is quite alright, Spock," I say softly and rise from the bed where I've been sitting, watching him. I don't know exactly where to go, but if he needs space, I'll give it to him.

I wish there was more I could do. I want to talk to him, but Spock, as close a friend he is, is still a Vulcan and he is closed off. I know there must be more to this, but I can't put my finger on it.

"I'll be back soon," I nod as I leave our quarters to allow Spock to meditate. It's still a few hours before the banquet begins, and I'll have plenty of time to shower and change after I've allowed Spock his privacy.

I move through the large stone-building that is the Emissary's habitat. It's an impressive old building, where the rooms intertwine with gardens outdoors in a way that makes it difficult to know whether you are inside the building or not. It is beautiful. Fountains and greenery make it a soothing place and I walk around, musing about the last few weeks. It's been a stressful time for the entire crew. We met up with a Romulan Warbird only two weeks ago and the Enterprise took a heavy beating. Thankfully, we were not so badly damaged that we had to go into dry dock, but Scotty, Spock and the Engineering team have been very busy getting the Enterprise back in shape again.

The entire crew is in need of shore leave and I think I'll talk to Star Fleet Command once we leave Paliindera. They will grant us this, I'm sure. We are only a few light-years away from Starbase 34 and we might even be able to go to some hospitable planet. Perhaps we could even stay here. The place is certainly beautiful enough, and the people are very hospitable. Bones might not like the official gatherings but I've seen how he looks at some of the local women.

I move slowly back to the quarters I'm sharing with Spock. The prospect of staying with him again is making my mouth dry up. A while back, when Spock had to pretend to be infatuated with a Romulan commander, I was shocked at my reaction. I was insanely jealous and I almost slipped up, but I caught myself in time. That incident makes me uneasy and a little scared of spending a night sleeping in the same room with him. We are rarely forced to such close proximity, and the fact that he might sense how I feel when we are so close together worries me. I don't ever want him to know the truth. I chuckle wryly to myself. Listen to me. I'm scared of my own first officer - but that isn't quite true. I'm not scared of him. I'm scared of the feelings I have for him, and the fact that he will reject me if he ever finds out. Maybe I can find a Paliinderan woman to share her bed tonight so that I will not have to stay too close to my Vulcan first officer. Yes, that's the idea.

I shake the uncomfortable feelings off of me as I enter our shared quarters. Spock is still sitting in front of the bed with his legs crossed when I get inside. But as soon as he senses my presence he rises from the floor and nods curtly toward me. He seems more collected.

"Feeling better, Mr. Spock?" I ask.

"'Feeling' better, Captain?" He rises a Spockian eyebrow at me and I chuckle. If he is capable of teasing me he must be more collected. "I assume it is time to get ready?"

"Yes," I reply and leave him there. I move to the bathroom to prepare for the evening.

* * *

The room is oddly silent and I feel left out. Spock seems to have no trouble with the silence. It is as if I was watching a mute holovid. The people are smiling and nodding and they are clearly deeply engaged in exciting conversations and I feel cut off. For the first time in my career as a Star Fleet captain I sincerely wish this wasn't one of my obligations. But after I suffer through a few hours of this, the Enterprise will be on its way. The notion of having shore leave on Paliindera seems pretty ridiculous at this point and I envy McCoy the emergency in Sickbay. If I didn't know better, I'd think he had this planned.

"Where is Dr. McCoy?" the Emissary's rough voice suddenly asks and I nearly jump in my chair. I'd been deep into my own thoughts and have to clear my throat before responding.

"An unforeseen event in Sickbay forced him to leave."

"Ah, I see," the forest green eyes look at me compassionately. "I trust it was nothing serious?"

"Nothing serious," I verify. "Our other doctor took ill," I say and chuckle as I see the amusement in her eyes. Small tendrils of something in the back of my head are making themselves known.

\ Stay calm, Captain Kirk, \ a soft voice admonishes me. \ I am merely attempting to make you feel more part of us for the evening. You will understand us this way. \

\ What are you doing? \ I hear myself ask inside my head. I don't like when people poke around in my brain. The only one I let do things like that to me is Spock.

\ Just heightening your telepathic senses for the evening, \ she replies.

I relax slightly as a soothing voice reaches inside me. Her intrusion into my mind is not uncomfortable, and suddenly I can hear the thoughts of the rest of the people in this room. Spock is sitting next to me, but with his back turned to me, talking to a young man on his other side. They are deeply immersed in a conversation about the possible existence of Alternate Universes and Spock is making a believable case. No wonder. He does have up close and personal experience in the matter. Even without revealing classified information he manages to make the young man believe in the mere possibility.

The evening progresses fairly uneventful, it is pleasant and a lot more entertaining once I can 'talk' to the rest of the people in the room. As the evening comes to an end I turn to the Emissary.

\ How long will the effect of this last? \

\ For a few days, I would think, \ she replies. \ Do not worry, it will fade slowly and you will probably not miss it once it is gone.\

I am not so sure she is right. \ Is this the way it is for my Vulcan friend and his people? \

\ No, Captain Kirk, it isn't, \ she says. \ Vulcans are telepathic, but they are not exclusively telepathic. Some of our people have even forgotten how to speak, whereas Vulcans still primarily use spoken language to communicate. \

I ponder this for a moment, and then I look at the Emissary as she rises from the chair, and then I turn to watch the statue in the middle of the table. It is starting to spin, just as it did at the meeting. Last time I felt a flow of tenderness pour over me, like a tangible thing. As if the emotion could enclose me like a soft blanket. I felt at ease and as the statue begins to turn I feel nothing but anticipation at what is going to happen next.

\ Relax, Captain Kirk,\ the Emissary says in my mind. \ There will not be any uncomfortable emotions. We will only draw on the positive feelings you have near the surface and enhance them significantly for a moment. \

This information is new to me and it puzzles me. This information is significant, but I can't seem to grasp why. Spock shifts in his seat beside me and I can hear surface thoughts not directed at anyone. It worries me that he is so distraught about what is going on that he forgets to shield himself. It is not like him. A lot of things he has done lately are not like him.

\ No, \ he's thinking. \ Not again. I can not take another . \

I fail to hear the rest as I am hit by a sudden rush of love. The statue is pointed at me with positive emotions flowing over me. It is over within seconds and leaves me only with a sense of peace. But when the statue moves toward Spock, I can sense that the emotion is different. It is a passion so overwhelming that it is difficult to take, even for me, although it isn't directed toward me.

This puzzles me greatly. Why is the statue directing passion toward Spock? That would imply that the emotion lying near the surface in Spock's mind would have been sexual desire. I watch as my friend's eyes fill with fear as the emotion flows inside him and his hands grab the sides of his chair so hard that his knuckles turn white.

"No. I do not wish to feel this!" His voice is rough, and he is talking through clenched teeth. And then the emotion stops, the statue moving toward someone else. Spock is pale; his eyes closed, and his face is contorted. He reminds me of the Spock I once saw as he went through the Plak'tow. I put my hand on him and he turns to me, eyes opening quickly, staring at me.

"Do not touch me," he hisses. "Do not."

The Emissary walks up to me. Her face is gentle and she is smiling. I turn angrily towards her.

"What have you done to my first officer?" I demand.

Her smile fades a little, but her eyes are filled with understanding.

"We have only given him a chance to feel that which he desires most in this universe," she says. "I think you better take him out of here now."

Her answer is confusing, but Spock needs to get away from here. I can see that the emotions are still riding him. The hunger shines through his eyes and I bite my lip at the sight. He is looking at me. I realize that he will need to be in private to meditate and get rid of this feeling. I will get him there.

I stand by his side, shooting a last glance at the Emissary. She nods encouragingly at me and I shake my head in wonder. I have no idea of what is going on here, but I will have to seek the truth at a later time. Right now Spock has to be my main concern. It occurs to me that I could ask for a transport to the Enterprise, but I believe Spock is suffering enough from allowing me to see him like this. He would not appreciate appearing in this state, on the Enterprise for the whole crew to see. So I put an arm around his waist. He lets out a muffled groan and bites his lip. He tries to pull away, and the truth is slowly dawning on me. The sound, coming from those lips, goes straight to my gut, but I push the knowledge of that truth away. Spock is fighting so hard to keep his shields up, and his emotions in check, in a room full of telepaths that he cannot move on his own.

"Come on, Spock, I have to touch you if I am going to help you to our quarters."

Silently he acquiesces, yielding to the logic of my words. Once he relaxes against me, it is as if he leans into my touch, and my suspicion grows firmer. We move out of the room, out from under the prying eyes of strangers. I try not to think about what I suspect or my thoughts will reach Spock as well. His arm around my shoulder draws me closer and I look up at him. His eyes are smoldering with passion, and I have to prevent a sigh from escaping my lips too. I have never seen him like this; not even when he was in pon farr. And I have never dreamed that he would look at me with that expression on his face. Such unadorned passion, such raw need. I feel the arousal awaken inside me as well. I push it away. I have to remind myself that we are not yet alone.

\ Jim. \

\ Yes, Spock. \

\ I need . \

\ Shhhh . I'll get you there. \

\ You do not understand. \

We finally reach our quarters. I open the door and he moves away. I feel empty as he lets go of me.

"Spock?" I whisper.

"Captain. You must leave."

"I won't leave you, Spock. Not like this. What is going on with you?"

He looks into my eyes, trying to quirk an eyebrow at me, but he doesn't quite succeed. He isn't able to shield the passion either. It hits me like a kick in the gut. We're alone now. I can't escape this any longer.

"Are you telling me you do not know, Jim?"

"No, yes. I mean. No. I just." I stutter, feeling like a nervous teenager, but I do know. I think I knew the very moment the statue focused passion at Spock. I wonder if I haven't known longer than that.

\ Is it me that you want? \ I ask. I don't think I would have had the guts to speak those words aloud even if my life depended on it, but the thought has crossed my mind before I even think to stop it.

\ Yes, Jim. It is you that I want. \

He lets out a moan when he senses my reaction to his words. We have melded before, Spock and I, and he has taught me how to shield, but as I look into his eyes, those shields drop like the shields around the Enterprise when the power is drained.

"Spock, I never knew . "

"Nor I," he replies. "Jim," he continues. His voice is full of wonder. Relief from him flows over me like a heavy rain. I can't stop my own arousal from surfacing completely. He moves then, so fast that I don't have a chance to avoid him even if I wanted to. Which I don't.

Moments later I feel his slender, hot body pressing into mine. Strong arms envelop me and his eyes are merely an inch from mine. I've never looked at them so closely before. His pupils are fully dilated and his eyes seem almost black. Have I pushed him to this, or are there some external forces at play here? My concerns are pushed away though, as I'm pressed up against the wall of our quarters. Spock's hands move over me impatiently. I reach out for him, pulling him closer, eagerly. Then our lips meet for the first time. His lips are strangely warm against mine and the kiss is slightly awkward, as if he wants it desperately, but does not quite know how to get what he wants. I move my hands from his sides, up to his neck, wanting to ruffle the perfectly combed, black hair. I tilt my head to the side so our lips can meet more fully and I flick my tongue out, licking carefully against his lips. He opens his mouth and we moan together, the sound muffled as our lips and tongues meet. I can't believe I hear those sounds from my composed Vulcan. They tear through me like a cutting blade, laying my passions open for him, plain to see. I don't care. I want this too much. His tongue is slick and longer than a human's, but I take it inside my mouth without hesitation, sucking and licking on it as I pull him closer. Our chests meet and I can feel his faster-than-human heartbeat against me, and it is a heady feeling.

As we are doing this, my mind is awhirl.

I'm kissing Spock - my Vulcan first officer. Images of Spock on the bridge, his calm exterior and emotionless responses flow by me at a quick pace. The contrast of the Spock I'm used to seeing and the passionate being in my arms are amazing. Who would ever have thought that this volcano of emotions reside beneath that cold surface? My mind boggles. And he is so eager, so passionate. His hands move over my body as if he can't have enough, tearing at my clothes. Pulling my shirt out of my pants. I gasp loudly as I feel his hands move over my stomach, I groan louder when they reach my chest, brushing too quickly over my nipples. Then they move, just as quickly, down to my waist, to my back, only to impatiently slide downward, grabbing my ass in a grip so hard it could almost bruise, pulling me closer to him until our groins meet and his hard sex is pressing into my abdomen. The kisses deepen further and become desperate.

"Jim, I want you," he moans. Those words from my Vulcan are setting me on fire.

"Spock," I answer, pushing him away a little. He resists at first, but then it is as if some amount of logic reasserts itself and he pulls away fractionally. Only enough to get our clothes off. His blue tunic is thrown on the floor without finesse. I stop to look at him. I've seen him without clothes, but never before have I been allowed to enjoy the sight as I am now. He is slender, but finely muscled and the warm skin is begging for my touch. He moves forward again and my golden tunic follows his blue one in a heartbeat as he almost tears it off of me, and soon the rest of our clothes are piled up on the floor, leading a trail toward the bed.

"You are beautiful," he whispers. "More beautiful than I have ever imagined."

Those words from his lips make me stop to a dead halt. My mouth dries up as the revelation hits me. I lift my face to look into his eyes. There is confusion and a certain amount of fear inside those Vulcan depths.

"You have imagined me? Like this?" I ask, softly.

"Yes, Jim. Many times." Spock is nothing, if not brutally honest, and braver than anyone else I know. He tells the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Have I not been alone in my longing? Could we have become more than friends for each other before?

"So have I, Spock. So have I," I feel brave enough to reveal. I watch him where he is standing. The lights from Palindeera's twin moons shine through the window. One of them is full and the other almost half, so the light is strong. His body is tall and slender, and yet strong in a way a human's body wouldn't be at the same size. A testament to Vulcan's higher gravity and its people's more compact physique. He is beautiful, the skin slightly green tinged in the light from the moons. I move closer to him and he draws me into his embrace. Our bodies connecting, sharp, unfamiliar angles, but they are so welcome and arousing to the touch.

"Spock," I whisper in wonder, and we kiss again. They are deepening, becoming hungry and impatient. I let my hands roam over his body, reveling at the freedom to touch him as much as I could ever want. Now I realize how much I have missed his hands on me, my hands on him. Even if we have never touched like this before, his distancing himself from me over the last few weeks have been painful. Now, feeling the soft fur of his chest tickle my palms, I realize for the first time how long I've wanted to touch him like this.

"Jim," he says. "Touch me."

"I am touching you," I whisper, not able to stop myself from teasing.

He groans, and his next words burn me.

"Jim. Touch me - intimately."

The words have such an impact on me I sway toward him, burying my face at the crook of his neck, inhaling his musky scent. I want him. I am so aroused it hurts and when I slowly move my hands down his stomach to finally touch his hard cock, my harsh groan melds with Spock's. He is so hot, so hard and so smooth. The alien sensation of his double ridges soon become familiar and welcome to me because it is him. I wonder, briefly, how they would feel buried deep inside me. I move my hands in a slow, agonizing rhythm.

"Do not tease," he begs me. "I have yearned for this too long."

He is too aroused to allow me this exploration right now. I hope he will let me later, but now he pulls me into his embrace and pushes me down on the bed. I spread my legs invitingly and he lies on top of me. A harsh groan escapes his lips. He presses his cock against mine and starts moving his hips in a slow but purposeful rhythm. He buries his head in the crook of my neck and I can feel his teeth and lips nibble at me. This intimate exploration makes me moan and throw my head back. I buck against him and gasp as he thrusts against me, quickening his pace. Our slick erections rub against each other and I know I will not be able to hold back for long. The feeling is too intense, too powerful.

"Spock," I groan.

"Jim, I am sorry. I can not wait," he moans. "I need ."

I don't even reply. I simply dig my hands into that soft, raven black hair and pull so hard it must hurt, and then I move my lips to his and our mouths meet in a bruising kiss. My body moves against his thrusts with equal fervor. Our bodies slide together in an exquisite rhythm. For so long I have desired him, and our first joining is frenzied, almost violent. My eyes are open throughout. Seeing his face contort in passion and ultimate pleasure is a sight for gods. I knew he would be beautiful when letting go. I've imagined his face overwhelmed by passion so many times, but never truly expected to see him like this. His black hair is tousled and his face is lightly flushed. His mouth is open and he is baring his teeth as if the pleasure is so intense it almost causes him agony. His eyes are closed and I can feel him convulse against me when he comes. The sight turns my gut into molten lava and my own climax is not far away. The final spasms of his sex against mine pushes me over the edge.

"Spock!" I cry out as the pleasure crashes down on me.

"Jim," he whispers back as he relaxes in my arms. He kisses me again. He is a fast learner and, this time, his long, slick tongue meets mine in a leisurely, loving kiss. Yes, loving. The light in his eyes is foreign to me, but welcome.

He is heavy, but I feel content. I have wanted this for a long time. Having him with me like this is a gift I never expected to receive. I plan to make the best of it. I am at a loss for words. What really happened here, I wonder. Was it the statue that did this to him?

"Spock?" I whisper hoarsely, the question on the tip of my tongue.

"Shhh, Jim," he whispers back. "I have fought my feelings for you long enough. I am gratified that you return them."

He lifts his head from my chest where he is resting, and he looks at me. Those eyes show more feeling than I've ever seen them emit before. A long-fingered hand comes to rest against my temple. He doesn't really need to do this for us to be able to communicate telepathically, but the whisper of his mind becomes clearer when he touches me. Within short moments he has answered all the questions I felt the need to ask.

\ The statue did not cause this, Jim. The feelings have been inside me for a long time. Since the first time I saw you, I would surmise. But I am Vulcan. \

\ What made you change your mind? \

\ *That* was the statue's doing. \ he replies calmly, and I begin to chuckle. All that is left is a strong sensation of love and belonging. I don't have to fear what's to come. We have been as close as brothers for so long and we have simply entered a new phase.

I'm no longer alone. Spock will be my bondmate, and I will forever hear his voice inside my mind. I'm grateful. I've sort of gotten used to it.

END