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a clear call (that may not be denied)	By : onekisstotakewithme Category: Star Trek > Star Trek Views: 490 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“Jim, you cannot be serious,” Spock says, jumping to his feet – although he sways a little once he’s standing – with a serious look on his pale face.
“We’ve exhausted all other options, Spock. This is the only one that remains.”
“I would sooner die.”
“And I’m not giving you that option, Mister!”
“Jim,” Spock says, and then nearly tips over, gripping the counter hard as the repressed urges continue to take their toll on his body. “I could not use you, degrade you in that way. I cannot.”
Jim reaches out and places his hand on top of Spock’s. “Nobody will ever need to know – pon farr is a private matter, you said so yourself. It’s nobody’s business but ours. I can’t let you die, Spock.”
“Captain…”
“Please,” Jim says, meeting his eyes. “Let me help.”
Spock stares at him, for a fraction of a second, his body wracked with trembling, and all Jim wants is to stave off the inevitable moment when they will be parted – now or in ten years, fifty, a hundred – and keep Spock at his side.
If this is the price… it’s one he’ll gladly pay.
“Spock, I owe you my life over and over again – won’t you at least let me save yours?”
“This is a different matter.”
“I don’t think it is. You will die if this isn’t done.”
“Yes.”
“Then how is that any different than the dozen or times you saved my life?”
“Because it did not involve degradation. I would regret doing this with a woman who is not mine, Captain, but to degrade you that way… it is unthinkable.”
“I’m offering myself to you, Spock. I don’t feel degraded. I just want to help you.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“More dangerous than the last time?”
“Captain… Jim, you are not a Vulcan. To take you as I would a Vulcan would no doubt harm you.”
“I’m made of sterner stuff, Spock, don’t you worry.”
“I will try and show restraint, but the fever – the madness – is not to be controlled.”
“Your mother must have survived your father’s pon farr,” Jim points out, although the thought of Sarek leaves something niggling at the back of his mind that he can’t quite place. “She can do it. Why not me?”
Spock hesitates again, and then nods. “Very well.”
“Is there somewhere…?”
“My… father had a room prepared,” Spock says, his ears flushing green, a blush that spreads below the collar of his shirt.
Jim’s heart is pounding, wondering if he’s doing the right thing, for the right reasons, even as he follows Spock down the hallway.
The bedroom is spacious, the furnishings sparse, and the bed is larger than any Jim has seen in months.
The view from the window of the bedroom is the distant Fire Plains, easily visible from the hilltop estate.
Jim turns from the view, only to find Spock staring down at the bed, his mouth having thinned into a line.
“This was to be my deathbed,” Spock comments, his mouth thinning into a line as he looks down at the bed.
“Cheerful thoughts to go to bed on, Spock.”
“Captain, I… I don’t know what level of control I will have over my actions,” Spock says quietly, sitting down on the end of the bed and looking up at Jim. “You saw how I was in the plak tow.”
“I did.”
“It is not too late to change your mind.”
“It is,” Jim says, his fingers brushing along Spock’s cheek – and then he blinks, feeling something nudge at the inside of his brain, not unlike the sensation of Spock’s mind meld.
Spock’s eyes raise to meet his, as they stare at each other.
“Damn,” Jim breathes.
The space between them is sanctified, thrumming with a tension Jim can’t name, the same tension that radiates off of Spock’s body.
“Jim. There… is a danger that I could harm you.”
“Spock, you can’t get me to change my mind. This is the best option, the only option.”
“Jim…”
“I can see you growing weaker by the minute, Spock, and I don’t intend to let you die. What kind of captain would I be? More important, how could I call myself your friend?”
Jim feels suddenly awkward, as though he’s finally offered too much to Spock, finally shown too much of his hand.
“You are my friend, Captain. And your sacrifice is… noted.”
“Is…” Jim sits down next to him. “Is there anything specific we need to do or say?”
“This is not a formal ceremony,” Spock replies, his tone drier than the desert outside. “And I do not think I can wait much longer.”
“Very well.” Jim feels a sudden urge to stroke his hair, to soothe him. “Spock, listen to me – whatever happens, it’ll be worth it.”
“You cannot know that for sure.”
“I do know that for sure.”
And Jim makes the best possible gesture of good faith he can manage, holding out his fingers for a Vulcan kiss.
Spock stares at them, before smiling a little – just a small, hesitant smile as he presses his fingers against Jim’s.
“Touching and always touched,” Jim murmurs, feeling the heat of Spock’s skin against his own, the burn of his touch like a brand. “Isn’t that how that goes?”
Spock looks startled for a second, but then nods. “Touching and always touched.”
Jim sits down next to him, and gently leans in, initiating a human kiss to go with the Vulcan one, his other hand coming up to cup Spock’s cheek.
Again, his fingers brushing over the heated, coppery skin, Jim feels something nudge at his psyche.
His lips meet Spock’s, the two of them breathing each other in, and that is all the invitation Spock needs.
Jim can feel Spock’s body shudder against his, and then something seems to unleash in Spock, a powder keg exploding as Spock kisses him back, his mouth hungry, teeth biting at Jim’s lower lip until the iron taste of blood fills his mouth.
Spock pulls away long enough for Jim to see that the calmness, the restraint he associates with his first officer is gone, his eyes aflame as he pulls his shirt and undershirt over his head, tossing it aside.
Jim’s mouth goes dry – although he supposes it’s entirely the wrong time to admire the hard muscles and unforgiving planes of Spock’s body, his muscles corded and bulging with the effort of not taking Jim for his own immediately.
Jim can see Spock’s erection, straining at the thin uniform pants he’s still wearing, swallowing hard as he feels the front of his own pants tighten in response to the sight of Spock’s naked body.
It’s been a long time, and Spock’s pale chest, faintly tinged with green and smattered with sparse dark hair, is heaving with the effort of breathing. The trail of hair leads over his navel, disappearing into the waistband of Spock’s pants in geometrically perfect swirls.
“Beautiful,” Jim breathes, his voice taut with emotion, and Spock flushes a pale shade of green at the compliment, but doesn’t respond.
Jim reaches out, tracing his fingers over the slightly coarse hair, before undoing Spock’s uniform pants.
Spock groans a little, pressing into Jim’s hand as the pants fall away, revealing a flushed, hard cock of a length and girth that amazes him, the skin blazing so hot it nearly burns under Jim’s hand.
Jim thinks privately, staring at that magnificent anatomy, that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to listen to Bones call Spock a little green man again. There’s nothing little about him.
He’s surprised to find the heated skin under his touch slick, as though coated in a layer of pre-come.
“Spock…” he breathes, as Spock stills against his hand.
“It is a curious thing, Captain.” Spock’s voice is ragged. “The pre-ejaculate acts as a lubricant for penetration – a quirk of Vulcan biology.”
Jim nods, a little breathlessly, shockingly aroused by the idea despite the fact that Spock’s words are dryly scientific. Clearly the textbook he got the description from had not been written by someone who had ever had the opportunity to examine one firsthand.
Jim can’t help himself, gently stroking the slick skin, feeling it grow hotter and firmer against his fingers.
“Jim,” Spock groans, urgently pushing into Jim’s hand. “Jim. I cannot-”
“Then don’t,” Jim says, and Spock groans, lunging for Jim and shoving him back against the bed, his hands pinning him in place as his mouth finds Jim’s again, the heat of his fever burning through him and leaving Jim’s body slick with sweat, Spock’s erection pressing against his thigh as he kisses Jim, devours him.
Jim thrusts against the air as Spock’s teeth sink into his neck, the weight of Spock's hands against his hips sure to leave bruises tomorrow, a gasp escaping him as he claws at Spock’s back, Spock’s powerful body holding him down, pinning him in place, lust driving him to the same madness as Spock.
“Spock,” he gasps, caught in the rush of hormones, so painfully aroused. “Please.”
He gasps a little as Spock rips the front of his uniform shirt open, letting the torn fabric fall away, the display of strength leaving Jim dizzy with want.
Spock’s eyes – though they’re on fire – land on Jim’s chest, his fingers moving out to reverently trace the scar of the lirpa.
He’s murmuring under his breath in Vulcan, words that Jim doesn’t know, but he feels the heat of Spock’s touch on his skin and can’t hold back a whimper.
He thinks, just for a moment, that while he knows he’s doing this for Spock, he cannot deny that this benefits him too.
“Jim,” Spock says softly, staring at the scar. “I do not wish to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” Jim promises breathlessly.
Jim can’t help but admire him, the lean body like a tightly-coiled spring, lithe and powerful like a panther.
Spock leans in to kiss him again, Jim scrambling for the fastenings of his own trousers, frustrated as he tries to wriggle out of them.
“Damn it.”
Spock helps pull them down, tossing them out of the way before looking down at Jim, admiring him, a pleased little noise that sounds like a growl coming from low in his throat.
Jim has never felt self-conscious about the way he looks, and in some ways, it's nothing Spock hasn't seen before, but he can’t help squirming under Spock’s appraising eye.
As Spock stares down at him, gazing at Jim’s flesh, he reaches down and encircles his cock with his hand, stroking it gently.
“Spock?” Jim chokes out, wondering briefly if he’s had his wires crossed all along, if the sight of his body is enough to make Spock lust after him.
Instead, Spock holds up his fingers, which are now glistening with pre-come, his eyes turning soft as he looks at Jim.
“The least I can do, in participating in this madness,” he says, his voice soft, “is ensure that you are not hurt.”
Jim is struck speechless, only able to nod.
And then Spock is reaching down between Jim’s legs, his hand barely brushing Jim’s cock, his other hand holding Jim’s squirming hips in place.
Jim can’t hold back a whimper, seeing the look of concentration and determination on Spock’s face, his hand between Jim’s legs, carefully caressing.
Jim shudders a little, in pleasure and anticipation, though he is afraid that Spock will not be able to be gentle.
Still, personal fears aside, he did promise to do this, and he has no intention of backing out. What’s a little pain compared to saving Spock’s life?
“Spock,” he pants. “I thought… you couldn’t wait?”
Spock shakes his head, but doesn't say anything, focused on the task at hand.
He gently massages his slick fingers around Jim’s opening, urging the tight ring of muscle to relax.
Jim, for his part, is caught up in the action of kissing Spock as much as he can, caught up in the frenzy of the moment, the heat – but also the gentle way Spock touches him, even though he can feel the strength behind that touch.
After a moment, Spock gently slides one of his long pale fingers inside of Jim, making Jim tense at the slight pain of adjustment, whimpering into Spock’s mouth.
Spock’s thumb is still gently massaging between his legs. Jim’s cock is so hard it hurts, smearing pre-come over his stomach, caught between his belly and Spock’s.
He nearly moans when he glances down between them, in between furious kisses that leave his teeth aching, the pale of Spock’s belly, and the ruddiness of Jim’s skin, like the sun and the moon, light and darkness – and Jim’s cock twitches helplessly against Spock’s belly.
Spock’s other hand, the one not caught up in the pursuit of debauchery, comes up to cup Jim’s face, and then suddenly, it’s as though the world has broken wide open, Spock’s fingers brushing over Jim’s temple.
And all Jim can feel is the urgency of Spock’s touch, the barrier between their minds opening, releasing a floodgate of hormones between them as Spock presses another finger into Jim’s body.
It’s all he can do not to come apart right then, but he cries out all the same, gasping, “Please, Spock!”
He can feel Spock’s desire, and something else that whispers at the corner of his mind in Vulcan, rippling through him with each shiver of Spock’s body, need and arousal and pressure.
A word he doesn’t understand, but he’s too caught up in the pleasure of Spock moving inside of him, feeling Spock’s pleasure too.
“God, please!”
“Jim, I cannot wait,” Spock pants, his fingers still pressed to Jim’s temple. “I will try and-”
“Do it,” Jim bites out, frantically, driven near to distraction by the constant pleasure coursing through him.
Spock’s hand withdraws from between his legs, and Jim misses the sensation for a split second, before it is replaced by Spock’s erection, pressed firm against Jim’s entrance, making him whimper.
Jim meets his gaze, knowing they have quickly reached the point of no return. But still, despite everything, despite the way that Spock is trembling with restraint, his whole body covered in a sheen of sweat, he doesn’t take Jim.
Jim nods, and Spock’s expression doesn’t change.
Until he starts to sink into Jim’s body, a moan filling the air – and Jim isn’t sure which of them it came from, but it doesn’t matter because he cries out again, his back arching as Spock presses into him, slowly but determined, the length and the girth of him stretching Jim’s body to the limit.
But all Jim can feel is the pleasure coursing through him in waves, having to bite his lip so hard he almost draws blood to not come apart right then.
“Please,” Jim begs him, “please.”
It’s easy to pretend in the heat of the moment that this is not all of his dreams come true.
Spock’s mouth lowers back to his, gentler this time, his kisses steady and tender, scorching with heat as they are, leaving Jim’s mouth burning.
Spock rocks into him, shallow thrusts that leave Jim begging and pleading into Spock’s mouth, and it has been so long since he’s been fucked.
Spock still has him pinned in place, his big thick member inside, his movements growing more urgent and less controlled, on the thin edge between pleasure and pain, every thrust somewhere between too much and not enough, and there’s a word in Jim’s mind that he doesn’t understand.
T’hy’la, Spock says inside his head, and Jim almost thinks he isn’t meant to hear it.
Instead he moans into Spock’s mouth as Spock’s thrusting grows more erratic, pulling all the way out before thrusting back in, a punishing rhythm that takes Jim’s breath away, because he can tell just how much Spock is restraining himself – but Jim doesn’t know where his pleasure ends and Spock’s starts.
Spock’s pace is frantic, his movements frenzied, his cock brushing across Jim’s prostate so many times that he almost thinks there’s some mathematical formula Spock has calculated for the occasion.
And the feedback loop of pleasure nearly has Jim biting through his lip at the sensation, his pleasure and Spock’s, and that curious Vulcan word, repeated in his head over and over again, becoming more and more frenzied.
Spock’s cock is pressed firmly inside him, pinning him in place, leaving him helpless, spread wide, able to do nothing but take – take the sensation coursing through him, the pleasure and the pain, take the heat of Spock’s mouth on his, take the cock that is probably too big for him but feels so good inside – need and arousal crackling like electricity over Jim’s nerves, the pressure building at the base of his spine.
Jim is the first to fall apart despite Spock’s urgency, a moan tearing its way out of his throat that may have started as Spock’s name, his cock trapped between them and spurting come onto Spock’s skin as pleasure crests through him.
But Spock isn’t done yet, the pleasure flowing through their mind meld both too much and not enough for Jim, and he whines a little, overstimulated, not sure whether to pull away or push closer onto Spock’s cock.
Spock’s voice is lost in a hoarse shout as he thrusts, pleasure and pain and too much sensation sparking at the base of Jim’s spinal cord, and then shudders, heat expelled inside Jim the only signal that it is over.
The mind meld is fading fast, slipping away the harder Jim tries to hold onto it, Spock’s body falling over top of his, the two of them too sated and sticky with sweat and come to do much of anything save lie there.
Jim would love nothing more than to bask in the afterglow, but instead he lifts his head, brushing sweaty hair back from Spock’s forehead, which now feels no hotter than usual.
“Spock?” he asks, his voice hoarse. “Did it work?”
“It did,” Spock says, rolling off of him, and Jim sorry to lose the contact. Spock’s voice is hollow, empty, betraying no emotion at what has just happened. “The madness… it is gone.”
“Good.”
But as they lie there in silence, Jim fears that maybe this time, they’ve really crossed the Rubicon.
And that word is still lingering in the back of his mind, echoing in his thoughts:
T’hy’la.
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a clear call (that may not be denied)