Chapter Text
Jim opens the front door with a bright, insincere grin. “Afternoon, Professor Spock. We finally fucking today or nah?”
The young professor levels Jim with a familiar flat stare before brushing past him. “Such an insistent attitude is better placed in your studies. You would have no difficulty in accomplishing the provided assignments.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jim is still smirking as he closes the door behind him. His attraction to the tall and handsome Vulcan has been as superficial as all his other crushes, but it’s been a nice distraction. Jim’s been trying to get into his pants for the last two months to no avail.
They sit in their regular location together, Jim’s dad’s auxiliary office. “This is satisfactory,” Spock finally says after scanning Jim’s writing for the week. “Are you aware of the works of Sui Dêrcêls? Their research and writing in the development of interplanetary entrepreneurship would provide a valuable source of evidence for your argument.”
As the professor continues his analysis, Jim lets the curious timbre of his voice fill his thoughts. Jim knows tomorrow the professor will be traveling back to teach at his university on Vulcan. It’s the last day he will be tutoring Jim, and Jim’s last opportunity to convince the professor to hook up with him.
The afternoon goes by quickly as it always does. Jim keeps the flirting to a minimum and discusses his readings and notes with the professor. Their time together draws to a close, and Jim doesn’t feel any nervousness as he waits for Spock to finish preparing to leave. Jim makes eye contact with him. “Hey. Share a drink with me tonight?”
Jim can almost see a hint of amusement in the professor's eyes, but his voice is neutral. “I will not be available. I will be celebrating my oldest brother’s birthday.”
Jim purses his lips as he gets up to lead Spock to the front door. “That doesn't sound like a very Vulcan thing to do.”
Spock almost rolls his eyes. “My brother Sybok insists upon it.”
Jim chuckles as he rounds the corner of the hallway, only to be stopped by the hulking frame of Hendorff. “Security watch in the perimeter,” Jim’s bodyguard says, his hand coming between Jim and the professor. “Mr. Kirk must stay inside the house for the next two hours. The professor will see himself out.”
Jim makes an annoyed noise, more out of habit than actual frustration. “Again? God. Fine. Bye, Professor. It was nice meeting you.” Jim sticks his hands in his pockets and resigns to losing the last few seconds of minimal interaction with another real person before being sequestered into isolation once more.
There’s a lull. The professor nods once at Jim. “Live long and prosper, Jim Kirk.” He looks behind him once more at Jim’s lonely figure before he exits through the doorway.
Because of the security watch at the awkward hour, Jim won’t be able to go to his family’s company for work today. He goes down to the gym in the basement and ends up running on the treadmill for miles, distracted by his thoughts.
Jim has always been homeschooled by hired professionals, seldom permitted to leave the confines of whichever mansion they were living in. Once he was determined to be old enough, he had begun work under Winona's direction. Only recently has Jim had time to pursue an education once more. It would be nice to request another tutor for the sake of company, but that’s not what Jim wants.
Jim hops off the treadmill and sticks his tongue out at Hendorff, who is now occupying a corner of the gym. Jim grabs one of the many available towels to wipe off his sweat and the equipment, then checks his comm. He is wholly surprised to see an unread message from Professor Spock. The only messages he gets are from his parents and the occasional angry message from Hendorff asking where Jim has fucked off to without him knowing.
>> My oldest brother has invited you to join us. Would you be amenable to joining me and my family tonight?
Jim blinks.
>> Oh. Wow sure, id love to, Professor. Please say thank you to him for me.
>> Uh wait
>> Does he know about me? Do any of them?
There is a pause for a moment.
>> There is a chance Sybok may recognize you, but it is a very minute chance. We were all raised in the Beta Quadrant, not on Vulcan.
>> Could we say the usual cover for me when we're out in public? Please?
Jim hates the way he’s treated when people find out he’s rich and famous, much less the son of Winona and George Kirk. It was fun as a kid, getting anything he wanted, but now the things he wants can’t be bought - simple, honest and genuine interpersonal connections. When people already have an impression of Jim, he's even less likely to get those things.
The professor has responded.
>> Very well. I will do so.
The professor gives Jim the location and agrees to meet him in front of the restaurant. Jim lets out a breath. Even if he can’t seduce the professor in the end, it’s a nice excuse to get out of the house.
Jim takes his time preparing to leave, checking himself and his comfortably worn long coat in the mirror one last time before approaching the stairwell where Hendorff is waiting. Jim groans. “Do you have to come with me, Cupcake? Can’t I drive myself for once?”
Hendorff watches Jim, silent, broad and intimidating as ever. Jim's already tried the flirting ordeal with this one, and he didn't budge at all.
“You’d better stay out of the way,” Jim threatens. “I don’t want any of them getting even a little bit suspicious of me.”
Hendorff predictably does not respond.
Jim remains apprehensive for the duration of the trip. He keeps watching for any sign of Hendorff as he meets Spock in front of the restaurant. They enter together and Jim follows Spock to one of the booths in the back. Thankfully Hendorff is being acquiescent tonight and staying out of view for the time being. There are already two individuals in the booth, holding drinks and chatting.
“Kan-Spock,” one bellows, waving Spock over.
“Not a baby,” Spock hisses. “Regulate your volume, Sybok.”
“Younger brother,” the other says with a hint of glee, rising to greet the professor. Before Jim has time to feel overwhelmed, Spock introduces Jim to Michael and Sybok, his older sister and brother.
Spock gestures to Jim. “This is my student that I have mentioned to you before. Tiberius Wimpole.”
Spock isn't lying. It’s Jim’s middle name, which is obscure, and his mother's maiden name, which is even more obscure. It’s the name he uses when he’s trying to stay low in public.
Jim ducks into the booth with Spock, grateful that the restaurant is relatively empty. The professor explains Jim is a graduate student studying business administration. Another not-quite lie.
“Your choice of earrings suit you very well,” Michael comments with bright eyes.
Jim is thankful his dark skin color hides his easy blush from the compliment. “Thank you.” He falls into easy conversation with Michael, who is a starship captain. That had been Jim’s dream job as a child. Michael is eager to talk to Jim about her work and Jim's own research while the professor complains to Sybok.
The professor says, “We all have several more important tasks that we could be attending to at this moment.”
“The occasional celebration never hurt anyone,” Sybok says, lifting his drink. “Chocolate liqueur, kan-Spock?”
“No.”
Sybok goes into some abstract tirade about the benefits of merriment on the mind. Michael looks wholly amused. Jim assumes based on her reaction that Sybok’s argument is solely for putting a slightly pained look on the young professor’s face. Then Jim is distracted by a soft light pink shade in the corner of his eye.
He stares up at broad shoulders framed inside a fluffy pink sweater and dark, wavy hair with greying temples. There are conspicuous hearing aids in both ears.
“You’re late,” the professor complains.
The newcomer smiles with his eyes and slides into a seat across from Jim, accepting touches of greeting from Michael and Sybok. His voice is rich and thrilling. “Miss me that much, kan-Spock?”
Jim is delighted to see the professor’s aloof aura immediately dissipate as he splutters in response. “Jim,” Michael says, grasping Jim’s shoulder. “This is our older brother Spock. Spock, this is Tiberius.”
Those warm, smiling eyes are already focused on Jim. “Hello. You are Spock’s student?”
Jim is finding it hard to form words with that charming face directed at him. “Y-yes. Thanks so much again for inviting me.”
“Thank you for joining us.” Older Spock offers a handshake, only for the professor to slap his hand aside. Michael laughs heartily and Sybok catcalls as the professor spits something out in what Jim assumes is Vulcan, he’s not sure. Older Spock looks smug amidst the chaos. Jim watches the four of them banter, fascinated. He has no siblings of his own. It looks simultaneously wholly entertaining and infuriating.
The bar is vegetarian, and the server brings food that Michael had already ordered. “It’s all on me,” Sybok says, holding out his second drink. “Cheers, sa-kai. Fifty-three Standard years old!”
Jim sputters, turning towards Older Spock. “Fifty-three? I thought you were in your thirties, forties at most.”
“Kan-Spock still looks younger than the students he instructs,” Older Spock points out, his eyes twinkling. A laugh escapes Jim before he realizes it.
“You exaggerate greatly about my appearance,” is the immediate retort. Older Spock just raises an eyebrow at his younger brother. Every time Older Spock’s eyes crescent as he smiles, Jim feels his body drawing closer to him.
“This is the first time we have been able to celebrate the occasion in nine years,” Michael observes.
Older Spock says something in Vulcan. “Because of my work,” he adds. “The timing was never right.”
“What do you do?” Jim asks.
Sybok clears his throat, a little too loudly. Jim blinks. Older Spock’s eyes dart from Jim to Sybok. “Freelancing,” Older Spock finally says, still eyeing Sybok. It’s about as ambiguous as one could be.
“Sybok does not like to talk about sa-kai's work,” the professor explains in a low voice to Jim.
“Oh, okay.” Jim sits back a little, perplexed. It’s a strange thing for Sybok to be touchy about. Older Spock looks normal enough.
Now Jim can’t help noticing that the other siblings are sitting around Older Spock, as if to guard him from the other patrons of the restaurant. They move aside easily enough when he goes to the bathroom, but whenever he is within reach they all protectively lean towards him. If Older Spock is aware of the phenomenon, he makes no mention of it as he smiles and teases.
Michael has gotten up to retrieve more condiments, and Jim’s heart leaps to his throat as Older Spock slides next to him, taking Michael’s space. “You are a graduate student?”
“Uhh, sorta?”
“How can one be only sort of a university student?” Spock is still smiling at him. His bangs are fringed with pepper silver hair that matches the color of his temples. It’s devastatingly charming.
“I'm working on a thesis, but I study at, uh, at home.” Jim falters as he realizes Spock’s attention is concentrated on Jim’s mouth.
Spock waits for Jim to elaborate. Jim’s eyes flicker and he internally smacks himself, he’d completely forgotten about Spock’s hearing aids. Was it hard to hear Jim in the restaurant ambiance? Was there a problem with his pronunciation? Their booth wasn’t that dimly lit, so that can’t be the problem. Aren’t Vulcans touch telepaths? Come to think of it, the other siblings have kept their hands above the table and within reach of Spock the entire evening. Spock has occasionally been resting his hand on top of the person speaking.
“Should I-” Jim offers an outstretched hand, his dark skin contrasting with the light grey tabletop. Spock blinks. Flustered, Jim hastily adds, “Let me know how I can help you. When we’re talking.”
Comprehension washes over Spock’s expression. “Currently I do not need the additional aid of my telepathy, but I prefer to clearly hear voices whenever I can and it is not something I am able to do often.”
“So you only do that with your siblings because you’re close?” Jim asks, curious.
“Yes,” Spock confirms. “Due to our touch telepathy, skin contact is a practice shared only between consenting individuals that are familiar with one another. To do otherwise would be discourteous, even violative.”
“I didn't know that.” Jim looks at Spock's beautiful hands in a new light. “But you can control it, can't you?”
“Yes, generally a shield is maintained in public as most Vulcans are proximity telepaths to some degree. Receiving perpetual stray thoughts from others becomes exhausting. Also, it is the courteous thing to do.” Spock pauses when he sees Jim has not retracted his hand. “It is unusual that you would offer so easily.”
“Why's that?”
“Every non-psi individual I have met is apprehensive that I will intrude on their inner thoughts and feelings.”
Jim slides his hand closer. “But you can control that. I’m cool with it. I trust you.”
“This is wholly unnecessary, but I appreciate it very much.” Spock’s eyes crescent as he rests his broad palm on top of Jim’s knuckles. Jim’s stomach flutters.
Michael has long since returned, and she perks up seeing Spock and Jim together. “Sybok, look. They are already holding hands.”
“Sa-kai is single,” Sybok says with a serious expression. “Other than his shitty-ass job, he is an excellent catch.” Jim's stomach sparks at this newfound knowledge.
“I am too old for a handsome young man like Tiberius,” Spock says with ease.
“Not that young,” Jim interjects. “I’ll be turning twenty-nine in four months.”
Spock looks startled by the information. Sybok adds something incomprehensible, probably something in Vulcan and downright lewd based on the way Michael bursts out laughing while Spock protests and Professor Spock recoils.
Michael adds something in Vulcan and laughs harder. Sybok replies in Vulcan and cackles. “You two should go play strip poker or some variant.”
“Oh.” Jim laughs even as he feels his face heating up. “Oh god, no. Playing poker with a Vulcan sounds like a death wish. Also, I’m terrible at poker. Maybe I’ll say yes to strip chess.”
“You play chess?” Spock turns towards him, interested.
Sybok makes an exaggerated groaning sound. “These two will not stop talking about chess if you start,” he says, pointing to both Spocks, one at a time.
Jim rubs his neck. “Yeah, I do play chess. I love it. I haven’t been playing as much recently though, so I’m pretty out of practice. You’d beat me in no time flat.”
“Then I’d better play you now, while I am at an advantage.” Older Spock nudges his shoulder into Jim’s arm and winks, twisting Jim’s insides. “What has occupied your interests then, if you are not practicing chess?”
“Baking. Oh my god, I should’ve made you a birthday cake. Do you like sweet potato cake?”
“I have an inclination for Terran sweet potato,” Spock says with a smile.
“And here I thought Vulcans can’t have favorites,” Jim shoots at Professor Spock with a grin. He looks back at Older Spock. “It’s my favorite kind.”
“Speaking of favorites.” Michael waves at someone. “Look who has arrived. Leonard!” Michael stands up, and Jim's eyes widen upon seeing an intimidating, devastatingly attractive man stomping towards them.
“Long time seein’ y’all in the same room.” The man hugs Michael with a blinding smile. “I’m here to save my husband.”
The professor gets up with a scowl. “I texted you thirty eight point four eight oh minutes ago.”
“I’m a doctor, not fucking Moses. Let me know how to part the sea of traffic congestion and then I’ll pick you up on time.” The handsome man notices Jim and offers a human handshake. “Hey. Leonard McCoy.”
“Uh, Tiberius. Hi.” Jim returns the handshake, and sees the glint of a marriage band on McCoy’s other hand. “Married?” Jim asks, more confused than bewildered.
McCoy holds out his arm as the professor tucks into his side. “It’s our twelve year anniversary in two months, right darling?”
Jim’s hand hovers in the air as he directs a dirty glare at the professor. “And you let me hit on you this entire time?”
The professor has the same bland, neutral expression that he wears before ripping into one of Jim’s shitty papers without mercy. “I determined the only way to engage Tiberius in his studies was to create the impression that his efforts would be rewarded.”
Jim scowls. “You lied!”
“He implied,” Older Spock says with a wink.
Jim swivels to face him, scowling. “Not you too, asshole.” Older Spock grins, and Jim can’t exactly stay disgruntled seeing that adorable smile.
The professor kisses McCoy on the cheek, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. “Intervention seemed unnecessary, as the comments had no genuine intention in them.”
“Fucker. I know you like the attention.” McCoy’s smile was genuine but he kept a possessive hand on the professor’s lower back. Jim can't help a pang of envy seeing the two married men in intimate conversation with one another. Twelve years - Jim's longest relationship didn't even last twelve months. They make their relationship look so effortless.
“Stay a little longer and join us, Doctor,” Sybok urges.
“I appreciate it, but I'd better take Professor Grumpy home. It’s his bedtime.” McCoy brushes at the professor's neat bangs with a fond look, and Jim bites his lip.
The couple says goodnight and exit the restaurant. Sybok says something in Vulcan and Michael stands up, having checked the time. “My wife is expecting me home soon as well. Goodnight, everyone.” Michael smiles at Jim. “Tiberius, it was nice to meet you.”
Michael gets up from the table, leaving Sybok, Jim and Older Spock, who has politely declined drinks all evening. He had explained that he drove here and will have to take his car back to his hotel tonight.
“Speaking of driving,” Sybok says suddenly, picking up his buzzing comm. “My taxi is here.”
“Sybok!” Older Spock says, stunned.
Sybok stands and smirks at Jim. “Nice to meet you, Tiberius. And sa-kai -” Sybok says something to Older Spock in Vulcan, who makes a scoffing noise of disbelief. With a final grin, Sybok disappears out the door.
Jim sees how nervous Older Spock looks being alone with him, and it helps soothe Jim's own pounding heart. “They're all so nice,” he says, touching his fingers to Spock's knuckles. “I'm glad I could meet you all. Professor Spock's partner included.”
“I hope you are not too devastated to discover my younger brother is a taken man,” Older Spock says a little too casually.
Jim blinks. “Hm?”
Older Spock breathes out. “You are attracted to him. My younger brother. It is not an uncommon occurrence.”
“Oh, no. I mean - yeah, but - when I saw him with his husband, I was thinking about something else.” Jim smiles, more wistful than genuine.
“Of course,” Spock agrees, obviously not believing Jim.
“Besides,” Jim adds, “My type is more - um. Smiley.” Smiley? God.
Before Jim can internally berate himself, Spock laughs aloud with delight. Shit. If Jim wasn't smitten before, hearing Spock laugh for the first time has converted Jim into an absolute goner. He stares at the dimple next to the corner of Spock's grinning lips and wants to kiss it.
“I suppose that certainly is a distinguishing factor between us two. That reminds me of a story,” Spock says before launching into an amusing anecdote about Sybok and Michael and a friend from university. Afterwards they talk about how they got into chess. Jim listens with rapt attention to Spock's story about a bet over chess between him and Younger Spock. It had ended with Younger Spock doing the dishes for three months. Jim would’ve loved to see that.
Spock discreetly checks his comm. “I apologize, I have already taken several hours of your time.”
“Oh, wow.” Jim blinks seeing the numbers on his watch. “I had no idea.”
“If you have somewhere to be, please don't let me keep you from it, Tiberius.”
Spock begins to check the seats for any stray belongings, and Jim panics seeing Spock getting ready to leave. He closes his fingers around Spock's hand tighter and blurts, “I don't have to go anytime soon. Actually -” Jim bites his lip, feeling the rush of adrenaline as his words barrel forwards. “I'm sorry if I'm reading this wrong, but I'd like to spend more time with you?”
Spock is speechless. Then his gaze becomes accusatory. “You must be more inebriated than I realized.”
“Not really. I'll walk a straight line for you now. Want me to do it?” Spock huffs out something that sounds like a laugh. Jim inches closer. “Why’s it so difficult for you to believe I want you?”
“I am not nearly as attractive as my younger brother,” Spock murmurs. “You have chosen a poor substitute.”
“Spock. Your brother has nothing to do with this.” Jim wraps his fingers a little tighter around Spock’s, refusing to look away. “Search my feelings. I'm telling the truth.”
Spock stares at their hands, at their point of connection.
“Invite me back to your place,” Jim urges. “I'll say yes.”
Spock’s gaze is sharp on Jim’s again. Jim is startled by the foreign sensation of a telepathic strand curling from Spock to Jim’s mind, projecting tightly coiled desire desperate for release.
Jim pulls Spock from his seat, grabbing his coat without bothering to put it on. Spock leads the way to the parking lot. It gives Jim an incomprehensible feeling, walking pressed right behind Spock’s shoulder, fingers entwined in his. Fuck. What’s going on right now? Is this a one night stand? What else could it be? Jim doesn’t want to let go of Spock after one night. He doesn't know how to handle this feeling. What does Spock want, though?
As if in response to Jim’s sudden spike of anxiety, there’s a sudden sensation of vertigo as Spock whips Jim around to press his back to the car. “Oh, shit,” Jim manages to say before his mouth is thoroughly and expertly ravished by soft lips and a rasping, slightly cooler tongue. Spock tastes clean and sweet and tart like the lemonberry sorbet he’d shared with Michael for dessert.
Jim is panting by the time they finally break apart, but Spock’s isn’t even breathing hard. Jim nearly lets his coat slip through his fingers and grasps at it again. “Not bad for an old man,” he chokes.
Spock’s voice is very smug. “Unlike humans, Vulcan libido increases with age.” He’s rubbing his fingers against Jim’s palm in slow, sensual motions. Jim attempts reciprocating the gesture and Spock’s breath hitches. Jim raises an eyebrow.
“This is the Vulcan equivalent of a human kiss.” Spock’s tanned fingers wrap around Jim’s, exploring the skin between each digit.
Jim laughs, incredulous. “Oh, god. You were letting me kiss you in front of your family that entire time? No wonder they were reacting the way I did.”
“I am only half-Vulcan. They can disregard my choice of actions this once.” Spock grinds a thigh between Jim’s legs before abruptly stepping back. With the sudden absence of his support, Jim has to lean on the car to stay upright. “We should depart now,” Spock says.
Jim glares at Spock, who is looking back with humor sparkling in his eyes. “Oh, you fucker. Just wait until I get my hands on you again, and then we’ll see who’s laughing.” Jim huffily puts his coat on and slumps in the passenger seat.
“Seatbelt,” Spock says, putting his own on and turning the car on.
“Gonna be the longest fucking car ride ever,” Jim complains. His legs still feel numb and he wants to taste Spock again. Spock chuckles as he pulls the car out of the parking lot.
The car interior is pleasantly warm, and the muted sounds of wind seep through the windows. Jim breathes in slowly, still feeling his heart pounding. Spock slides a hand across to Jim’s leg, resting it on his upper thigh. Jim lowers his hand above Spock’s, and grins when he sees Spock’s smile grow.
They’re now traveling down a highway Jim is familiar with. With the combination of heat and the sound of Spock’s soft breathing, Jim feels himself relaxing further into his seat, his hand still over Spock’s.
“This car is following us,” Spock says suddenly, startling Jim.
“Who - what?”
“A black sedan,” Spock says, focused on the rear mirror. “Tiberius - are you in any danger? Do you know who that individual could be?”
Fuck. With the magical events of tonight, Jim had completely let his bodyguard drop from his mind. Jim internally curses Hendorff as he twists to try and get a glimpse of the familiar black car. “How do you know they're following us?”
“I simply reduced my speed. All of the other cars have driven past us. This car has dropped its speed to match ours.”
Jim tamps down his expression, trying to keep it neutral. “Can you lose it?”
“I can.” Spock checks his mirrors again. Jim feels the slight acceleration and watches Spock's keen gaze flicker. Spock carefully navigates around a big rig on the road in front of them.
Jim blinks as Spock navigates around a second large truck, exiting the highway with several other cars. Hendorff is nowhere to be seen.
“That's impressive,” Jim says with a wavering voice. It was almost too easy, how Spock managed to shake Hendorff, an experienced professional. A wisp of suspicion is beginning to fester in the back of Jim's mind. “How did you do that, Spock?”
“It is very simple. I could show you how to do so.” Something tells Jim it's not quite as Spock is portraying it, but he decides to drop it for now.
They park at what looks like a remote bed and breakfast, small and neatly kept. Spock guides Jim to the front lobby.
“Welcome back, Mr. Spock.” The human woman at the desk stands to greet them before freezing at the sight of Jim.
Jim’s heart rate elevates. He sticks out his hand and blurts, “Tiberius Wimpole. Nice to meet you.” He hopes with acute desperation the woman can see the unsaid plea in his eyes.
The woman finally reciprocates the handshake, her expression shifting. “Una.”
“Una is very graciously offering me extended residence at her establishment.” Spock holds out his card to Una. “He is with me.” Una silently takes the card, and Jim breaths a small sigh of relief. He tries to stay as small as possible next to Spock as he completes the transaction and guides Jim away.
Spock stops at the door marked with a privacy door hanger and inserts the key card. The room is well furnished but it doesn’t feel cramped at all. It smells of fabric softener and coconut. Spock freezes. “I apologize, if I had known earlier I would have taken the time-” Spock’s voice trails off as he rushes to pick up a couple garments of clothing off various pieces of furniture. Jim grins at the sight of the unmade bed. It makes the room look softer, more lived in.
For all his effort to pick up the clothing, Spock leaves them in a messy pile in a laundry basket before navigating to the closet and opening a couple drawers. “It would be optimal to complete this before we proceed.” He is holding a medicorder, a rather low-quality model. Or maybe Jim’s just used to the expensive, state of the art versions. Spock scans himself and offers it to Jim, and the readings show a clean bill of health. “There is protection in the drawer if you would prefer it.”
Jim also scans himself and hands the medicorder and his own readings back to Spock. “I’m good if you are.” He hesitates. “Although-”
“Yes?”
“You would have to show me - what I should do. I’ve never had sex with a Vulcan before.”
Jim feels strong fingers under his chin, bringing his lips to Spock's. Spock leans back with a slight smirk. “That will be amended by the end of tonight.” Spock rests his arms around Jim's shoulders and nuzzles his neck. “I will show you how to bring a Vulcan the most effective sexual pleasure.”
Jim laughs as Spock mouths at his jawline with the slightest hint of teeth. “I’ll hold you to that.” He tries thrusting his hips forward a little, and Spock bites harder. Jim hums and runs his hands down Spock’s shoulders. “God, you look so cute.”
Spock pauses, and Jim keeps rubbing his hands over the texture of the sweater. Spock smiles at Jim with his eyes. “You have a preference for this sweater?”
“Oh, yeah. Pink’s my favorite color. But I think I’d prefer you without it on right about now.” Jim attempts to remove Spock's sweater, only to be stopped by a gentle touch. “You may use the shower first.” Spock pushes him in the direction of the bathroom door.
“Oh. You go ahead first. I can wait.”
“I insist.” Spock shyly pushes Jim again. “I will take longer.”
Jim relents. “Do you have something I could borrow to wear?”
He watches Spock pick out a bathrobe and boxer shorts. “You are welcome to anything in the drawers,” Spock offers.
Jim nods and closes the door. He tosses aside his clothing and watch and turns on the shower, nearly burning himself from the scalding temperature of the water. Jim stares at billowing steam as he waits for cooler water to run. His gaze trails to a single shelf nearby piled with various supplies. Fuck, that’s definitely a shiny black butt plug next to the soap. If Jim wasn't getting hard before, he is now.
Jim ignores his growing erection and washes carefully before making use of one of the wrapped complimentary toothbrushes. He dresses in Spock's clothes and exits the bathroom.
Spock grazes a kiss on Jim's cheek before he disappears inside. Jim waits until the bathroom door is completely closed before locating Spock’s keycard. He takes a moment to look fondly at the now-tidy room before exiting to the hallway.
He rushes down to the front lobby where Una is still behind the desk. She is now in deep conversation with a man wearing a similar uniform. Una glances up at Jim. “Pike, he’s here.”
Jim stops in front of them, unsure of how to proceed. Pike looks him up and down with a raised eyebrow and protective stance. “Jim Kirk in our lowly little bed and breakfast, huh? What do you want with Spock?”
Jim’s breath rushes out of him. “Please don’t tell him. I promise - I only want to be with him.” Jim cringes at the word choice. “As a man to another man. Uh, no, I meant - around him, I’m not someone who’s supposed to act a certain way. I’m not a person he has preconceived notions of.” Initial nervousness gone, Jim is now moving closer to the desk until he is leaning over it. “Please, you need to understand. This isn’t something I get very often. I want to be - ordinary for a night.”
Pike and Una glance at each other. Pike finally looks back at Jim. “We are prohibited from disclosing confidential information about our patrons.”
Una still has a warning glance trained on Jim, but he feels relief like never before. “Thank you, both of you. Also-” Jim slips out his own card, the one he uses with a censored pseudonym. “I would appreciate it very much if you put my own expenses under my tab. Along with all of Spock's expenses. Everything including his future purchases.”
Pike raises his eyebrows as he takes the card. “I’m assuming you want us to keep this under wraps as well?”
“Please. Thanks so much.” Jim’s face is hot from embarrassment, but he refuses to back down.
“Spock does not appear the type to be impressed with such gestures,” Una comments casually.
Jim sighs. “What little I can do for him, anything, I want to do it.”
Pike huffs out a laugh as he returns the card and looks at Una. “I think I can understand that feeling.”
Jim returns swiftly to the room, and is relieved to hear the shower still running. He replaces the key card before removing the bathrobe, setting it aside. Jim lowers the lights and gets on the delightfully comfortable bed, feeling another pang of nervous energy. The anticipation makes him want to get back up and pace.
Instead Jim settles further into the sheets and uses the room's PADD to pull up a chess app. He focuses on the virtual board, trying not to think about the time ticking by.
Jim is in the middle of his first game when the light flooding from the opening bathroom door snaps him to attention. Spock leans against the doorframe, lithe and flushed and completely naked.
Jim drops the PADD and slides off the bed, not looking away from Spock. His eyes drag over sleek muscle and the hair of his chest trailing down his stomach. He has no external genitalia, and his sheath is flushed darker than the rest of his body. The hair near his slit already looks damp with slick.
Jim tries to advance forward, but Spock pushes back a little. Jim raises his eyebrows and plants his hands on Spock's bony waist. “What, you wanna play like that?” He slams the taller Vulcan back against the wall.
Spock easily counters the move, and Jim finds Spock crushing him against the wall with a bruising kiss. Jim manages to flip Spock back around, but Spock breaks free and escapes to the middle of the room, his eyes sparkling.
“The fuck?” Jim says, mystified. “Are you sure your job isn't, like, martial arts or something? How did you do that?” Somehow, every time Jim gets his hands on Spock, Spock slips from his grasp. He doesn't attempt to stop Jim's unrelenting pursuit, but his amusement is growing.
“Fucking - stop right there,” Jim growls as he finally crowds a laughing Spock against the wall again. Jim's hand wraps over the space between Spock's legs, squeezing slightly. Spock gasps, and he stops struggling.
Jim pauses. “Tell me to stop.”
Spock makes eye contact with Jim. His eyes are even darker than before, black with arousal. “No.”
Jim puts a little more pressure into the touch. “Tell me to stop.”
“There is no need to stop.” For the first time since Jim has met Spock, Spock’s breath is starting to quicken. Jim lets his hand drift down further, feeling the unfamiliar anatomy. His fingers freeze over the silky hard feeling of silicone.
Spock groans as Jim tugs at the flared base of the butt plug. Something snaps inside Jim. He grabs Spock's groin and squeezes hard, too hard. Spock makes a noise of pure lust, and Jim's mind goes blank. He drags Spock towards the bed, but grabs him before the backs of his legs can touch the blankets.
Jim shoves Spock down to his knees, stretching Spock's arms above him to press them to the bed. Spock stays pliant under his forceful actions, but Jim can feel his restrained strength in every movement. Spock had made it clear through his easy display of super strength and skill. He is allowing Jim to pin him down. And it's driving him fucking crazy.
Jim pulls down the band of his underwear and lets his cock brush over Spock's face. Spock’s lips are parted in a silent plea. Jim presses the tip of his cock to those soft lips, and groans at the sensation of a rough tongue flicking out to taste him.
Jim thrusts further inside the tight, rough heat, watching Spock open his mouth wider to accommodate his girth. Jim braces his legs around Spock to push him further back, forcing his cock down Spock's throat. He doesn't register Spock's noises of discomfort until Spock abruptly pulls away, gagging and out of breath. Jim snaps to his senses immediately, arousal dissipating like mist. “Fuck.”
Spock grabs Jim’s thighs, preventing him from moving any further back. “Do not stop.” Spock pulls Jim's boxers fully down, encouraging him to step out of them. “The safeword I will use is ‘red’. If I cannot speak, I will signal you.” Spock holds up a hand with the fingers outstretched and pressed together.
Jim’s loss of control still has him shaken. “Red. Okay. I got it. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“I am not fragile, Tiberius.” The false name only serves to further distract Jim from the developing mood, and it’s clear Spock can sense it. Spock gets to his feet, pulling Jim onto the bed after him. Spock gently encourages Jim to sit across him, then props himself back on the piled pillows at the headboard, exposing the black base of the butt plug. “You said you were amenable to a practical exhibition of the Vulcan’s erogenous zones.” Jim can’t help smiling at Spock’s bashful tone, and settles between Spock’s spread legs, waiting expectantly.
Spock rolls his erect nipples between his fingers, pinching and plucking the buds. He sighs and arches his back, squirming into the stimulation. One hand drifts down to tease at the folds of his sheath before trailing back up to circle a swollen nipple. Spock pinches hard and the muscles of his thighs clench.
“Fuck,” Jim breathes. “Could you come, just like that?”
“I have before.” Spock finally removes his hands from his chest to spread his slit with two fingers, tilting his hips for Jim to see easier. There’s an inner slit inside, and his cock is unsheathed and protruding between the folds, smaller than a human's.
“It presents like this in a fully aroused state.” Spock flicks at the tip of the cock and gasps. Slick is leaking from the inner sheath. “The inner walls here - these glands that produce lubrication are the most sensitive erogenous zones.”
“And the plug?”
Spock removes his hands from himself. “I am half human. You will find the internal anatomy functionally identical to the male reproductive system.” Spock grunts as Jim plays with the flared base again. “You appear particularly captivated by this implement,” he manages to say.
Jim hopes the rough, open mouthed kiss conveys what he thinks. Spock shivers and presses his mouth to Jim's again, deepening the angle of contact. Jim pushes Spock flat on the bed, and Spock tugs at Jim’s wrists. “Touch me,” he demands.
Jim relocates Spock’s hands back above his head, pressing them together. “Only if these stay right here. Move your arms and I stop.”
“Yes,” Spock breathes immediately, twisting his hands together above his head, obediently waiting for Jim’s next move. Jim kneels back for a moment to marvel at the view of Spock’s prone body. His inner thighs are almost coated with wetness now. Jim runs his hands over Spock's chest, feeling the dense muscle twitch.
“Tiberius,” Spock says impatiently.
“Where’s all that famous Vulcan willpower?” Jim drags a tongue over one of Spock’s already swollen nipples, relishing Spock’s stifled moan. Jim blows over the bud, then focuses his attention on the other nipple. His actions are slowly growing bolder again. Jim drags his teeth over a nipple and Spock arches into the touch.
Heart racing, Jim kisses down Spock’s stomach, breathing over his slick groin. Spock’s legs attempt to close around Jim’s head, and Jim roughly pushes them back further apart. A fresh gush of arousal escapes, and Jim sticks his fingers into the mess, exploring its texture.
Spock cries out as Jim pushes one leg further back, probing at the slick pooling inside his slit and all over the bed. “Please,” Spock begs, his hands grasping at the blankets above him.
“Please? Please what?” Jim thrusts his tongue into the slit spread between his fingers, massaging the head of the smooth cock, and whatever Spock’s reply was going to be trails off into incoherent whimpers. Jim dips his head further down into the musky sweetness. His hand comes back up to tweak one of Spock’s nipples, and Spock falls silent, tensing around Jim’s head. The cock slips back inside the inner slit, and Jim blinks. “Spock?”
Spock’s head falls back onto the mattress, breathing hard with his eyes still closed. “You have - a very talented tongue.”
“Yeah?” Jim tickles Spock’s nipple with the tip of his tongue before giving his chest an aggressive bite. Spock hisses, but he keeps his arms where they are. Jim bites Spock again before laving at the bruise with his tongue. “Turn around. I’m gonna fuck another orgasm out of you.”
Spock immediately gets on his stomach, tilting his hips up. Jim presses the small of his back down with the heel of his palm. He pulls the butt plug free without warning, and Spock muffles his groan into his arm.
Jim drags his hand up through Spock’s slick, rubbing it on Spock’s entrance and his own leaking cock. Spock tries to move his hips up again, and Jim shoves Spock down with a warning bite to his neck. Spock immediately goes pliant. Jim bites Spock hard again on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Don’t.” He spreads Spock’s thighs with his knees to prevent him from moving again. “Lie still. I’m gonna make you feel this tomorrow.”
Jim presses into the incredible tightness, and it’s all he can do to not come right then and there. He doesn’t stop until he’s fully inside Spock. When he regains composure, Jim slides out and pushes back inside Spock, causing them both to groan loudly. Jim thrusts into Spock harder, speaking low in his ear. “I’m gonna make you feel it, every time you stand or walk or sit.”
Spock grunts as he is pushed a little further up the mattress. “Vulcans have a faster rate of healing than humans.”
“Well then, I guess I’ll have to fuck you harder.” Jim punctuates every other word with a roll of his hips, relishing Spock’s tiny gasp each time. Jim rests his body on Spock, fucking with tight, maddening thrusts. His hand slips under Spock’s body to rub his fingers inside Spock’s slit. He can feel the cock protruding from the inner sheath again.
Spock desperately tries to clench his thighs together, tries to thrash away from Jim’s insistent strokes. Jim feels him struggle, and like before, Jim knows he is more than capable of escaping, yet he remains trapped under Jim’s encompassing stance. Spock curses as Jim’s fingers find one of the swollen, slick glands and presses hard against its side, releasing profuse arousal. Jim keeps a sharp eye on Spock’s hands as he brings the other hand to aggressively stimulate the other gland inside Spock’s slit, but Spock’s hands stay tightly fisted in the sheets.
Jim releases his grip and slips out of Spock. Before Spock can protest, Jim encourages Spock on his back, pushing apart his thighs. Spock braces his hands against the headboard as Jim pushes inside again with no finesse whatsoever. He watches Spock’s clenched jaw and heaving chest with wide eyes. He wants to see Spock’s face when he orgasms this time.
Jim adjusts his angle and rolls his hips brutally. Spock cries out and clenches around him. His back arches clear off the blankets as his slick drips over Jim’s cock, still thrusting, urging Spock through his aftershocks. Jim will never forget that expression for as long as he lives.
Spock finally recovers from the climax, still gasping for breath. “Have you achieved orgasm yet?”
“I’m close,” Jim pants. “So close.”
“On me,” Spock begs, his hands on Jim’s hips. Jim complies and pulls out, and with Spock’s hand over his, he strokes himself to climax and comes messily all over Spock’s lips and upper body.
Jim looks down at Spock’s blissful expression and his chest feels too tight. He wipes gingerly at Spock’s face before giving up and going to the bathroom to wet a towel. He sits pressed close to Spock and wipes the fluids from his face, his torso and arms.
Spock sighs as Jim spreads his knees and carefully cleans the viscous slick between his legs and inner thighs. Jim gently massages the muscles there, working his way down to the ankles and back up. The bruises and bites Jim left are darker and more numerous than he realized, and the guilt festering in his stomach grows. “Are you in any pain? Should I get a dermal regenerator?”
Spock tugs at Jim. “That is unnecessary. Lie down with me.”
Jim resists. “Is there anything you want? Water? Food?”
“I do not require such attention,” Spock says drowsily.
Jim’s voice is small. “I just feel like I need to apologize.”
Spock’s eyes become more alert as he sits up to look at Jim. “Was there not mutual pleasure derived from the act?”
“There - you’re not wrong.” Jim gently rubs a thumb on the particularly prominent bruising around Spock’s left nipple before bowing his head again. “I don’t know what happened. I’ve never forced myself on someone like this before.”
Spock leans forward and deliberately kisses Jim, firm but chaste. His eyes are intently focused on him. “I’ve never desired to submit to another this strongly before.”
Jim makes a rough sound in his throat. “Fuck, don't say shit like that.”
“Why not?”
Jim pins Spock back down on the mattress. “I won’t be able to stop myself from holding you down again.”
“You are already doing so,” Spock observes. He raises an eyebrow.
Jim chokes out a laugh, but sobers seeing another bite on Spock’s neck that nearly drew blood. “Are you sure you don’t need a dermal regenerator?”
Spock lays a hand on Jim’s with an affectionate smile. Yes, Tiberius. I am sure.
Jim nods reluctantly, pulling back and wincing at the stickiness of his sweat and come on his skin. “I’m going to take a sonic shower real quick.”
I will join you. They put the top blanket in the cycler together before going into the bathroom. Spock realizes Jim is watching him put the butt plug into a separate cycler and gives him a wink. Jim can’t help laughing at the ridiculous expression, and Spock looks pleased.
Jim can’t resist slipping his hands over Spock’s body as they stand under the rough force of the sonics together. He’s still feeling strange, almost like he’s watching his body as an outsider. He remembers how Spock struggled under his grasp, his control. He can’t help wondering, what sort of life does Spock lead on a daily basis that such a powerful figure would desire to be completely helpless under the care of another?
Jim’s fingers catch on a curve of tough skin. There are more scars that Jim hadn’t noticed before, barely dimpling his skin. Jim looks at Spock with a questioning expression, but Spock merely kisses him. Jim leans down to kiss a thin rough line running down Spock’s neck. Spock stays silent.
After brushing their teeth, they settle together under the sheets. Jim adjusts his position to lie down pressed to Spock, who touches his hand to Jim again. “I will remove my hearing aids. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all.”
Spock warns, “I may need to perform a shallow mind meld. It is more suitable for longer conversation.”
Mind meld? Jim projects his consent, his curiosity, and it seems to be enough for Spock. Jim watches Spock take his hearing aids out with his other hand and place them into a tiny round dehumidifier, and he wonders how Spock lost his hearing. Spock looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and Jim heats up in embarrassment. “Wait, no. I was just thinking that - I didn’t mean to actually - ask.”
Spock’s amusement warms Jim to his toes. He guides Jim to lie down with him, and delicately lays fingers over Jim’s temple, under his eye, on his cheek. It’s like a pressure tingling at the peripheries of Jim’s thoughts, and he lets it slip into him.
Spock feels like the softest hug, warming his body like a promise of a companion that would stay, would never leave. It’s alright, Tiberius. I do not mind sharing with you. I was involved in an accident during my childhood, was able to hear again after a number of years, however I received an injury at the same location. The incident occurred fourteen years ago.
From your work, Jim guesses. The job that Sybok hates so much. Spock neither confirms nor denies, which cements Jim’s suspicion. Must be something you really care about, to be willing to receive the ire of your younger siblings like that.
Spock doesn’t reply again, but Jim can feel his pride, his devotion to his role and how he is highly regarded within his field for it. It’s not something that he reveals very often, and he feels bashful for sharing it.
Jim settles against Spock. I’m gonna guess you already hear the worry from your siblings about you endangering yourself in whatever you do, so I won’t say I’m worried but I kind of am. Uh. Fuck. This mind talking thing doesn’t work like how I thought.
Spock chuckles and removes his hand to hug Jim to his chest. Jim feels the loss of his presence instantly, and wishes for it to return.
Spock rubs a thumb over Jim’s lower lip before returning his hand to Jim’s meld points. Tell me about yourself instead, Tiberius. Why did you decide upon the subject of business studies as a major?
Jim flinches back, and Spock removes his hands. “Sorry,” Jim says as the guilt and anxiety take over - Winona, company heir, mining, Spock can’t know. It would ruin everything.
“I apologize,” Spock says. “I will proceed with caution. Is that sufficient?”
Jim collects himself and slips Spock’s hand back to his face. Yes, sorry about that. It’s a pretty dumb reason, honestly. I had a giant crush on this business studies professor.
Spock raises an eyebrow at the mental image of a round bespectacled man with a broad grin. Is that so?
Jim grins. Sure, Scotty didn't look remarkable, but he had been one of the most decent people Jim had ever met. I was gone real bad. But he was - incredible. Wise, funny and he was so kind. Even to myself. He also encouraged me to learn how to bake.
Did he teach you?
Oh no, I taught myself how to bake a cake for him to try to impress him. Sweet potato cake. Unfortunately, it was so good that I ate it all myself.
That makes Spock laugh aloud, and the sound is like pure sunlight. Enchanted, Jim places a hand over Spock’s chest, curious what his laughter feels like. Spock misinterprets the gesture, grasping Jim’s fingers and guiding them down to his side. “This is where the Vulcan heart is located.” Spock’s heartbeat thrums through Jim’s hand.
Jim can feel Spock purring, feel the vibrations traveling into his own chest, and suddenly he has to fight the urge to cry. He never wants to leave this place here, wrapped among the heavy comforters in Spock’s arms. He’s so drowsy, he can't remember the last time the night felt safe, but Jim doesn’t want to fall asleep. He wants to pretend he can have this for as long as possible.
Spock strokes Jim’s chest over his heart before returning his fingers over Jim’s meld points. His voice is full of affection. Your mind is very full. Relax.
The feeling of security lulls Jim out of focus, he catches himself falling asleep once, then twice. Spock is the perfect temperature at his side under his fingertips. His heart beats slightly more rapid than a human heart, but Jim has already memorized its pace. Then it’s the only thing Jim is aware of.
There’s a sudden brisk knocking at the door that echoes throughout the room.
Jim startles awake and realizes he had fallen asleep despite his best efforts not to. Spock is upright and alert. He is still fully naked, and his hearing aids gleam in the dark. “Tiberius, go into the bathroom, lock the door and stay out of sight.” He’s shielding Jim from the entrance with his bare body - and he’s holding a phaser gun at the closed door.
Jim freaks out. “Where the hell were you hiding a phaser this whole time?”
Spock's eyes focus on Jim. “Is this the same individual that attempted to follow us yesterday night?”
Jim’s disoriented state of mind fades. “Oh my god.” He touches Spock’s arm, encouraging him to lower the phaser. He glances at the clock and scowls at seeing the time. Spock is confused, feeling Jim's irritation and acute lack of fear.
The door knocks again and Jim groans. “Give me a moment, sweetheart.” He dresses in a bathrobe and goes to the door, still incredibly annoyed.
Jim slips through the doorway and confronts Hendorff. “The fuck, dude! Four in the morning? Couldn’t you have ruined everything in the morning three hours later?”
Hendorff interrupts him. “You must come back to the mansion immediately. Security watch, yellow alert.”
Jim looks around them at the empty hallway, no less irritated. “Can you give me five minutes?”
Hendorff doesn’t move. “Two minutes. Don’t close the door.”
Jim grumbles and slips back inside the room. Spock is standing at the side of the bed in another loose robe, still looking bewildered. “I have to go,” Jim says, apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”
Spock shifts and winces visibly. “You have certainly attained your intended goal. I will not be sitting much for the next forty-four hours.”
Thrill and guilt and desire swirl in Jim’s stomach. “Spock. . .” Jim doesn’t know what to say.
Spock kisses Jim and smiles faintly at him. Jim steps backwards out of the room, lingering at the doorway before stepping back into the harsh light of the hallway once more.
“Fuck,” he says as Hendorff drags him into the limosine.
“What?”
“I never got his contact information.”
Jim can’t focus on anything for the rest of the day. He sulks in bed, dismayed at his own idiocy. He still can’t believe he never thought to get Spock’s number. The only thing Jim’s left Spock is his watch that he forgot in the bathroom, expensive but nondescript, and some memories of a few pretty mind blowing orgasms. Spock will probably never find Jim because of his false name, just as it was originally intended to serve. But Jim wants to see Spock again. He has to.
Jim sits up in realization. Spock. Professor Spock.
Jim grabs his phone and checks the contacts - as per security caution for his entire family, Jim’s personal devices are frequently wiped, and sure enough, Jim’s phone has already been reset and his messages with Professor Spock are gone. Jim only remembers the first twelve digits of the contact number. Jim drags his hands down his face. If he wants Professor Spock’s contact information again, he’ll have to go through his mom and that’s a whole other can of worms he’d like to avoid.
Jim pulls up a browser on his PADD and searches for Professor Spock. His information appears on the university site but there is no way to contact him. Further searches confirm none of his siblings with their unpronounceable Vulcan family name have any sort of social media. Jim blows out a breath and grabs his phone again.
>> can I come talk to you
The response is immediate.
>> Schedule an appointment.
Jim rolls his eyes and clicks on the link in the next message. There’s an opening tomorrow morning at eight. Jim fills his name and enters ‘i like jackalopes’ in every other required text box. He presses ‘send’ and tosses the phone away.
After brushing his teeth, Jim trudges downstairs, not bothering to brush his hair or change out of the loose clothing he had slept in. Hendorff is already waiting in the hallway. “Winona will not be pleased,” Hendorff says after looking at Jim's crop top and sweatpants.
Jim ignores the bodyguard's very reasonable warning and allows him to escort Jim to the car.
They arrive at the massive, familiar building, the headquarters of Winona’s massive network of office buildings. It had been her friend’s design, a wealthy and equally renowned woman with credentials to back up her boasts. It towers above the other buildings in the area. Jim exits the car parked in the garage and navigates to the elevator, ignoring stares from the employees heading in the same direction.
His mom is sitting in her giant office, makeup and outfit pristine as always. She pauses from typing on her keyboard to give Jim a cursory glance of disapproval. “You couldn’t at least cover up for your employers?”
“It’s my day off,” Jim says flatly. “Besides, they’re not mine. They’re yours.”
Winona shakes her head and changes the subject. “Jim, do you remember when we ate dinner together, we talked about hiring my new bodyguard?”
The last time Jim talked to Winona in person was probably at least two months ago. It had been a very quiet dinner. “No, I don't remember,” he answers.
Winona's lips form a thin line. “Anyways. We talked to his company and hired him last week.” Winona gestures behind Jim, and Jim realizes only then that someone had been standing there the whole time. He stares at familiar greying hair and a somber face.
It's Spock.
Gone is the gentle smile and soft curiosity, replaced with cold confidence and a rigid black suit and tie. Spock looks solid, like an immovable force. The hearing aids are nowhere in sight. The contrast of visuals is dizzying.
“This is Mr. Spock,” Winona says. “Familiarize yourself with his face. He will be one of your main contacts if Mr. Hendorff is compromised.”
“Good morning, Mr. Kirk.” Spock’s voice is even drier than Hendorff’s.
Jim can’t move. He can’t stop staring. There are still love marks, marks that Jim left, right under that pristine suit and tie. Jim suddenly feels acutely underdressed.
Winona frowns at Jim's hesitance, and Jim reacts immediately. “Nice to meet you, Mr. . . Mr. Spock.” Jim’s voice is rough and he is forced to cough. He looks back at Winona. “What?”
“You’re the one that asked to see me,” Winona says slowly. “What do you want?” Jim looks back at Spock, the reason for him being in this room in the first place. Fucking hell.
Winona is speaking again. “If this is about your bakery again, Jim, I don’t have time right now. Talk to me later about it.”
“It’s gonna be a cafe, and I’ve had the business plan and equipment ready for years. You’re the only one refusing to let me go open it.”
Winona does not look impressed. “You have a responsibility to our company.”
“Yes, the company to which I’m nothing more than a pretty face that occasionally says things that are meaningless.” Jim realizes Spock is avoiding eye contact with him. Maybe if Jim hadn’t spent the night before yesterday with Spock, Jim wouldn’t have noticed it, but it's there. Jim can see it under that mask of a Vulcan face.
Spock is scared.
“Actually,” Jim says, turning back to Winona. “Could I get Professor Spock’s number again?”
“You have no reason to contact him.”
“I was - I meant to ask him something. Just let me - please. Memorize his number real quick.”
Winona is silent as she pulls up the information. Jim glances discreetly at Spock again. Under closer inspection, Jim can see Spock’s still wearing hearing aids, but they’re a more compact and discreet design.
“Here.” Winona swivels around the monitor for Jim. “Got it?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Jim looks at Spock one last time before he leaves. He looks the same as when Jim first noticed him in the room. Indifferent.
Jim doesn’t remember the walk back to his car. The ride back home is a blur, and the moment he gets back to his bedroom he locks the door despite it being meaningless. He burrows under the covers of his bed, his mind spinning wildly.
Spock slept with him. Jim’s mom’s new bodyguard slept with him. Liaisons like that were a guarantee for a bodyguard to lose not only their reputation, but their entire career. If Jim had found out about Spock’s job, he knows he wouldn’t have lingered around him. Jim’s too closely affiliated with that entire field, he knows the ramifications of what happens in that line of business.
But Spock’s not the one at fault. Jim hadn’t been completely truthful either. He had lied about his name and his identity and the fact that the entire night they had spent together had consisted of Jim dodging his bodyguard.
Jim grabs his phone and types in Professor Spock’s number.
>> Did you know your brother was hired as my mother’s bodyguard?
A long pause.
>> No. What happened?
Jim hesitates. The heat of the moment is gone, leaving Jim with the numbing realization that he has to be careful. One wrong word and he could compromise Spock instantly.
>> nothing. just wondering.
>> I see.
Professor Spock isn’t dumb. He’s probably guessed exactly what happened. Jim puts the phone down and buries his face in his pillow. “Fuck my life,” he says to nothing in particular.
His bed that night feels empty like never before.
Jim sees Spock whenever he sees his mom, which is to say he hardly ever sees him, despite working in the same company building. Jim can count how many times he’s seen Spock in the past seven months on one hand. It's for the best. Every time Jim sees him, he forgets how to think or speak or act like he’s never known him. Not that it matters, because Spock always completely ignores him.
Winona doesn’t seem to notice Jim’s inability to stay nonchalant, but George isn’t so easily fooled.
“I will say, he’s not the type I’ve come to associate with your preferences,” George says without precedent as he sits with Jim at the dinner table.
Jim stares at his father, baffled. George used to complain about Jim’s flirting, especially the flirting with their employees, but he’s stopped bringing up anything related to Jim’s love life years ago. Why start again now?
George sighs and sets his spoon and chopsticks on the empty plate. A housestaff person immediately clears it from the dining table. “That look isn’t going to get you anywhere, son. You’re not trying to flirt with this bodyguard like you have with every other one we’ve had.”
Jim freezes mid-motion, chopsticks nearling slipping from his fingers. George is still talking. “I’ll listen to whatever excuse you’re ready to manufacture, but I know you, Jim. And I’m thinking you’re actually harboring some kind of genuine attraction towards Spock.”
Jim quickly regains composure and raises his eyebrows at George. “So what? Should I go flirt with him? Would that change your mind?” George is silent long enough that Jim feels his heart beginning to race.
George gestures at Jim’s bowl. “Finish your food.” Jim finishes eating, and after dessert, George allows Jim to push his wheelchair to his room. He settles back, and Jim braces for his father to bring up Spock again, but George says, “Did Winona tell you, Jim? She’s planning to take you to the annual company gala next Thursday.”
“Uh. Yeah.” Jim deflates at the reminder.
“What, you’ve never wanted to visit Mures’d? Heard it's a nice planet.” They stop at George’s door. “Don’t make too much trouble, will you?”
“No promises.”
George pretends he didn’t hear.
The architecture of the ballroom is staggering. The columns match the exquisite colors of the tiled floor. At the center of the massive ceiling is an intricate crystal chandelier, radiating light to every corner and staircase of the room. Jim’s seen his share of incredible architecture, the product of the wealthy that desire to impress with their excess, but he finds the beauty of each new design breathtaking regardless. Jim would’ve appreciated this particular architecture more but he was preoccupied with one individual situated near Winona.
Jim stays on the other side of the room, trying to maintain an upbeat facade, laughing and talking and winking on cue with whoever comes over to him. He even accepts a card and a cheek kiss from someone. However, he stays rooted to his spot and doesn’t bother moving around to find people to mingle with.
“Are you okay, Jim?” Jim startles. Winona is right there. Jim can sense Spock in his periphery and wills himself not to glance in his direction. Winona creases her eyebrows. “Are you sick?”
“No. Kinda tired.” Jim musters a grin. God. First George, now Winona. Is it that unusual that Jim doesn’t feel like flirting for a single night in his life? Can't he just be left alone?
Winona gestures in a direction with her own glass. “You remember her?”
It’s been several years since Jim last saw her, but he recognizes Nyota Uhura instantly. Her hair is loose and carefully styled. She’s holding a glass in a hand covered with a black lace glove, and she looks wholly unimpressed with the man currently talking to her.
“Yeah,” Jim says. “She’s the representative of that pharmaceutical company, right?”
“One of our biggest potential customers. We’ve been interested in negotiating the purchase of a new mining planet solely for them. Go play nice with her.”
Jim shrugs and makes his way towards Uhura and the man that hasn’t stopped talking to her. “Evening,” he says to Uhura with a blinding smile.
Uhura’s eyes widen slightly. “Jim Kirk. It’s been a while.”
“No kidding. Last I saw you, you were still some kid chasing Chapel’s skirt.”
“Uh huh.” Amusement leaks through Uhura’s tone.
Jim asks casually, “How’s she doing, by the way? Is your girlfriend still running that lethal combat training center thing?” He pretends to notice the other man at that instant, who has been looking on in bewilderment. “Oh, evening, sir.”
“I believe I am needed elsewhere,” Jim hears before the man melts into the crowd.
Uhura gives Jim a knowing glance. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know what you did. I can take care of myself, thanks.”
Jim shrugs, scanning the room with bright eyes. “So is Chapel here?”
“Nope, home with the kids.”
“Shame. I would’ve liked to see her unleash some of that fearsome know-how in her intended’s honor.”
“Wife, actually.” Uhura beams.
“Oh, congrats. When did that happen?”
“Soon after I got promoted a few months ago. Reward for the advances our team’s making in developing a Vulcan suppressant for one of their mating phenomenons.” And then she goes into a long description of chemicals and formulas that are probably exciting for her, but Jim’s got no idea what she’s talking about.
“Wow,” Jim says, impressed. “You know your stuff.”
Uhura smirks at Jim. “That’s an understatement.”
“Oh, of course. We can’t wait to get this information out there. It’ll save lives.” Uhura falls silent, still focused on Jim.
Jim toys with his glass. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“You certainly don't live up to that flattering reputation I had initially been acquainted with. I heard rumors and figured much hadn't changed.”
“I like to keep people on their toes.” Jim winks. Uhura raises an eyebrow.
The sound system comes to life as the emcee introduces the beginning of the company presentation. Winona is waving at Jim. Uhura grins. “I guess you’re needed, golden boy.”
Jim exhales as he heads in the direction of the stage. “It was nice talking to you.” The diplomats cheer and applaud as Winona steps up the makeshift stairs to the podium at the center of the stage.
Then there’s a horrible noise that stretches across the room, from one side to the other. Jim freezes midstep. The conversations fall silent, and Jim stares up in horror at the crack spreading directly through the chain holding the chandelier. It’s breaking loose. There’s screaming everywhere. Jim sees the chandelier rushing straight down at him. And then his feet aren’t touching the ground.
Jim feels the floor under his back and a tall body wrapped above him. He realizes he’d been pushed clear out of the way of the heavy crystal. A hand cradles the back of Jim’s head, protecting it from the hard floor. Jim’s nose is buried in familiar soft wavy hair, and the sound of ragged breathing is amplified in his ear. Spock pushes himself up off of Jim, still panting heavily. “Are you injured anywhere?”
Jim still feels disoriented, clutching to the lapels of Spock’s jacket. He hears Hendorff’s voice growing louder as he runs over. Spock carefully helps Jim sit up with a hand to his back. His touch feels like fire.
“We’re moving you and Mrs. Winona to a secured area.” Jim feels Spock gently release his grip on Spock’s jacket, and then Spock is leaving. Hendorff hustles Jim down a hallway. ”Come this way, Mr. Kirk.” Jim follows numbly, a step forward at a time. He looks behind him and catches a glimpse of Spock rushing in the other direction, speaking into his earpiece.
He wonders if it was his imagination that Spock's lips grazed his cheek when he got up.
It’s all over the news next morning.
Jim sits in Winona’s office, facing the giant television screen. He watches again as Spock lunges across the room, diving at Jim right before the chandelier can crush them. They roll across the floor before coming to a stop at the feet of some shocked onlookers. Spock stays pressed to him a second too long before heaving himself up to touch Jim’s face and arm. It looks dramatic as shit.
Jim hates it.
He fumbles for the remote and turns off the screen. “Why wasn’t this pulled?”
“We tried. It was too late.”
“Was it deliberate?”
“We don’t know. They’ve been looking at the debris.”
Jim is still gloomy thinking about the leaked footage. He tugs at his collar, not caring if it messed up his tie. “Attention will get us in trouble later eventually. It always does.”
“Which is why I’ve decided to sign Spock for a full length ten-year contract and transfer him to you,” Winona says in a decisive tone.
“What?”
“He’s the most qualified guard I’ve seen to date. I admit I was a little worried about his hearing disability, but it hasn't been an issue at all. If anything, it seems like he's even more aware of the surroundings.”
Jim’s stopped listening to his mom. All he can think about is the impending reality that Spock is his new fucking personal bodyguard. He’ll be closer to Jim than ever before, and Jim has to pretend like he doesn’t even exist? For ten years? Jim can't help the noise of frustration that escapes his lips.
Winona raises an eyebrow. “What?”
Jim freezes. More than ever, Spock's reputation and job in his hands. If he lets the secret slip, if anyone so much as notices Jim’s overfamiliarity, Spock will be transferred in an instant. As much as it pains Jim to have Spock within arms reach and unable to touch him, he’ll be damned if he just lets Spock go.
Jim feigns dramatic frustration. “Hendorff was enough of a hardass, this guy looks even worse.”
Winona sits down at her desk. “I’m processing the transfer immediately. Mr. Spock will be with you for the rest of the afternoon and take the full night shift back at our house.” Full night shift - that’s an entire night entailing Spock standing at Jim’s bedroom door.
Fucking fuck. This is gonna be so much worse than Jim thought.
Jim returns to his office desk computer. He’s drafting projected costs for a project budget, a wholly unpleasant task, when Hendorff’s comm goes off. Hendorff checks it, then opens Jim’s office door.
Spock steps in and nods at Hendorff, who promptly exits. Jim pretends to ignore him as the door slides shut. Spock stands silently at the office doorway, in the same location and stance that Hendorff and every bodyguard before him had established. It’s fucking with Jim’s mind. The silence is deafening.
Jim dares to peek once. Spock’s in a different suit today, still black and crisp and clean. He’s looking straight ahead with his chin up.
With that initial glance, the dam’s been broken. Jim stares. He can’t help it. After spending so long avoiding looking at Spock, he’s helpless to the temptation to drink in the sight of him. God, why does he have to look so good in a suit? The black tie and jacket molding over his shoulders is almost perfection.
Jim breaks the silence. “That's why your siblings cling to you like that whenever they have the opportunity. It might be the last time they ever talk to you.”
For a moment, Jim thinks Spock won’t respond, but he does. “That is a gross exaggeration.”
“The phaser,” Jim muses. “The driving ability and self defense technique. I should've been able to see it.”
Spock presses his lips together, and that’s that. The stifling silence returns. Jim doesn’t know what to do. The typing cursor blinks at the end of the last sentence in his document.
Jim is still in a disoriented state when he shuts off his computer for the night and stands unsteadily. Spock is also his personal chauffeur now, and he guides Jim to their designated vehicle to return home. Jim keeps his focus on the window, on his comm, anywhere but on the silent Vulcan driving in front of him.
Jim immediately goes upstairs towards his bedroom to take a shower. Spock follows silently, still looking as closed off and distant as possible.
Jim could attempt to pretend it's someone else that he made love to in that hotel, someone kinder and warmer that looked at him with utter fascination. But the moment he looks at Spock again with that well-tanned face and fringe of silvery hair, the visual mocks him. It's Spock and will always be Spock.
“Excuse me for entering.” Jim startles at Spock suddenly speaking up when they enter Jim's room together. Jim turns to stare at him. Spock just looks blankly back. “I must always announce my arrival when entering your room according to your personal guidelines manual.”
“Oh. That. I mean, you don't have to do that, I don't have my guards follow that anymore, they usually take night shift outside my door unless my ni-” Jim backtracks. “Unless I really need them.”
“According to your personal guidelines manual, I must maintain night watch within the confines of your personal quarters. I intend to do so.”
Jim's almost stammering, he's speaking so fast. “Believe me, you really do not have to do this. None of my other guards have. It's for the best.” For Spock's sake or his own, Jim's not exactly sure. Probably both of them.
Spock just stands there, hands behind his back while in perfect parade rest. Jim can't handle this right now. He gives up and turns to go into his bathroom. He trips over his own foot and smashes his forehead into the doorway.
It's more shock than pain, but Jim reels back, clutching at his head. He blinks in disbelief at Spock standing right there next to him, holding him upright. He inspects Jim's forehead with the same detached expression he's kept the entire day and Jim feels like now would be an excellent time to drown in his humiliation.
Spock removes his hands and resumes his distance. “Please be more careful, Mr. Kirk.”
Jim squeezes his eyes shut at the clinical delivery of Spock’s words. “Jim. Please. It's Jim.”
Spock ignores Jim’s whisper. Humiliated, Jim keeps his head bowed as he goes into the bathroom.