Take Your Moment

***note***This story has been translated for your convienience- any
modern terms used in service of storytelling have been substituted
in for their twenty-third century equivalents, which the reader
couldn't possibly understand (yet)*****

The kiss was an artful distraction, but he needed to go one better. Before he pulled back he ran a hand down Spock's front and got a pleasingly firm grip on his crotch. Spock lurched against him, bumping teeth and slobbing a little, but when Kirk pulled back and got a look at his face, it was more than worth it. The eyes closed, mouth open-I-just-got-punched-in-the-stomach-look was a hell of an ego salve.Through the fabric he got a better grip on his target and squeezed. Spock shook his head minutely, helplessly, his hands tightening on Kirk's shoulders. Kirk let up a little and tilted his head forward.

"It's all right, Spock." He'd made a legend around convincing people to do things they didn't nessecarily want to do, believe things they didn't want to hear. Spock wanted to do, wanted to hear, and that made it much easier. He lowered his voice, softened it."It's all right."

A little shudder.

"Captain," Spock whispered, almost to himself. Kirk's stomach did a little swoop of triumph. He'd watched Spock start to shred himself, and he wouldn't permit it. Now he watched Spock slip out of fear, step away from it like dropping a robe on the floor. He rested his forehead on his Captain's shoulder, giving himself up to the situation. Giving himself up. Inwardly, Kirk smiled.

Kirk turned his head and kissed him gently at the juncture of neck and shoulder, rubbing almost soothingly at the bulge in his First's trousers. He unclasped the front of them and snaked his hand down and in, filling it with warm flesh.

Spock brought his head up sharply and stared at him. It was the kind of look that would have made a sane woman take a detour on the turbolift as opposed to sharing a hallway with him. It gave Kirk a little chill. To be honest, if he hadn't been the one who brought this on (with a grossly improper and wholly devious trick, no less), He might have the inclination to take the tubolift himself. Spock tilted his head. He no longer looked entirely sane.

It was like watching a tidal wave gain height. From the beach in front of it.

*You asked for this one, Jimmy*, he told himself, and Spock crashed into him. He was slammed backwards, halfway across the room, ending up arched backwards over Spock's desk. Several things on display skittered off the metal and hit the floor with an expensive-sounding shatter. Spock clamped his mouth over Jim's and did a damn fine job of convincing him that the old saying about Vulcans and chilled fish was about as wrong as wrong could be. Jim was getting tingles in places he didn't even know he had, and that was while half his mind was occupied with trying to keep Spock from snapping him in half over the hard metal edge of the desktop. Kirk grabbed at Spock's uniform shirt for leverage, and Spock must've liked the idea.

Spock grabbed two handfuls of Kirk's uniform shirt and pulled, rearing back a little, keeping their hips pressed tight. Kirk felt the seams give and heard a tearing as Spock ripped the shirt right off his back, his teeth scraping Jim's lower lip as he stepped away.

Jim felt a sharp pain and touched his mouth, abruptly pissed off. Blood.

Dammit, he hated Biters.

With a low growl he launched himself at Spock's midsection, hearing the 'whouff' of surprised breath. He caught ahold of the black undershirt Spock sometimes wore for extra warmth on a cold bridge and muscled it over his head, taking the thinner blue uniform top with it and tangling him for a moment. Then he gave him a good hard shove towards the sleeping alcove. Spock stumbled, wrestled with the shirt a moment and narrowly avoided crashing into the wall. Kirk went after him with a dark look in his eyes. Spock tossed the shirt aside, shaking hair out of his face.

They came together like somebody was trying to prove something. Kirk was nearly climbing the taller man, getting a really good angle for friction. Spock made an animal sound and jerked at the waist of his pants, fumbling with the clasps. He put his mouth to good work on Kirk's neck, while he grabbed the fabric and gave it a hard yank. Spock slid his hands down and Kirk's waistband followed. His hands caught just under Jim's thighs, lifted, and pushed him back onto the bed, pressing him down into the matress.

The first time their cocks touched Kirk thought someone had driven a spike into the back of his head. He couldn't remember which hand was which or how to move them- he could only groan and thrust up. Spock was gasping, he was-he was doing something funny with his hands...

His hands were on Kirk's shoulders, he was propping himself up with them, and at first the pressure was uncomfortable. Vulcan was a higher gravity planet, more mass, and Spock was heavier than he looked. But he was doing something with his thumbs, sort of digging in, making circles in his flesh. It spread an odd sort of warmth down his sides, up the back of his neck. It made it strangely hard to breathe, and definately hard to think, so much so that when Spock started making nudges lower, it felt wonderful enough that Kirk almost laid back and allowed it. But when Spock lifted a hand to push down at Kirk's open pants, Jim came back to himself enough to open his legs, catch the fabric up against his thighs. From the way things were looking, he wasn't going to be given a chance to do *anything*, and he was damned if he was cutting out in the middle of this little experiment in biology to limp down to sickbay for some
anesthetic.

With one hand he caught Spock's arm, brought the hand up to his lips, briefly kissed his palm. With the other he reached down, grabbed ahold of his First's cock, and *squeezed*.

Spock choked, and his hands slapped down on the bed as he leaned into the contact, pushing into Jim's fist. Kirk rubbed his thumb up and down the underside of Spock's penis and felt a sudden vertigo- he shook his head, feeling like he had extra arms, or- was he holding his cock, or was it Spock's?

The warmth that had started at his sides had spread...he felt like he had a live wire under his skin, sparks everywhere. Spock was making soft, anxious noises, and he knew exactly what he meant by it, knew all that was needed was one more stroke, one more pull on warm damp skin and Spock clawed the bedcovers, spurting over his fingers.

For a split second it was only that, only Spock gasping, murmuring something in Vulcan he couldn't understand...then just as if he'd become some kind of grounding cable, the lightning arced over and hit him in the gut.

He came with it, with a hoarse cry, arching his back.It was snapping him like a rubber band and it wasn't just him coming, it was Spock coming, like they were ricocheing off each other, gaining height and speed.

He heard Spock, heard the words, heard the entire concept all at once. It wasn't a prayer, Vulcans didn't really have them, it was more like an idea, a reminder, that even in Darkness there was Light, that one moment of strength could change the course of a lifetime, that sometimes the future really was there for the taking, if the wisdom was there to see the right moment.

Then it flashed through, and was gone. Kirk was left to himself, and the first thing that flitted through his head was the surprise at how comfortable it was to *fit in* to himself, which was so marvelous and stupid he laughed out loud.

Then he looked up at Spock, who was barely holding it together. Saw the sanity seeping back into his eyes. Quickly followed by growing alarm. He shifted under Spock with a little sigh, pushed the black, rumpled bangs back out of his eyes.

"There is a tide," Jim said quietly," in the affairs of men."

Spocks eyes widened a little. Unfocused. Looking past him, into memory.

"Caesar." He managed in a hoarse voice. He didn't say which act it was, which scene, or even that it was from a shakespearian play. Utterly unSpocklike. Kirk gave him a brilliant smile anyway, relieved.

Spock was still warm and hard, pressed into his hip. Jim didn't have any illusions that it was over. He wasn't too worried about that part of things, at the moment. He was aware with a cut crystal clarity that if he didn't get Spock's psyche through this intact, the fact that his body was still alive wouldn't mean a damn thing.

Spock was looking at his face, watching him think. He was flushed and suddenly seemed desperately....breakable. Protectively, Kirk tightened his arms. Spock allowed it, something rising up behind his eyes, brightening them.

Hope? Spock settled against him, let Kirk hold him. Kirk shut his eyes with a faint little smile. It was enough.


-finis

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"There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and miseries."
Julius Ceasar
-Shakespeare