Chapter Text
The day had begun and proceeded like any other: exploring the universe with data to decipher and duties to perform. Spock found a certain solace in the predictability. The quiet, scientific pursuit of knowledge and new discoveries soothed him.
While compounding data on the newly discovered class L planet, his station pinged with an incoming message. Opening it, he found a notification from Starfleet command on upcoming crew changes. Before the commencement of the standard winter celebrations in a week, they were to report to Starbase 2 and pick up the newest members of the Enterprise and release those who were either transferring or retiring.
As the first officer, it was his duty to review the list before handing it off to his captain for final approval. Though Starfleet had run their own background checks, after the debacle with Admiral Marcus and his daughter, Doctor Carol Marcus, Spock had taken a personal interest in vetting each and every individual coming aboard. He would not be caught off guard again, nor allow the Enterprise and her crew to be endangered by it. They had been through too much already.
Pulling up his own algorithm, he imported the data into his file and executed the search. He would know within the next few hours if there were any issues that needed to be addressed. Satisfied, he turned back to the incoming planetary data and fell into an easy routine for the rest of the day.
Upon the end of his shift, he transferred the working file to his personal computer in his quarters. After a brisk data transfer to his science station replacement, he entered the turbo lift with the rest of his alpha shift crew members, though Jim was noticeably absent. He had been called away near the end of shift by an urgent communication from Admiral Komack and had not returned.
Spock made the quick decision to skip eating his evening meal in the cafeteria and head straight for his quarters. He still had plenty of work to occupy him and the lack of interruptions helped him complete tasks with even higher efficiency.
Exiting deck five, he walked with easy strides to his quarters. Upon entering, he immediately turned on his terminal and opened the crew manifest to continue its compiling. He removed his uniform shirt but left the black undershirt on, tossing the dirty clothing into the hamper. Keying codes into his personal synthesizer for kreyla, fresh fruit, and water, he took his dinner to his desk and returned to work.
He worked diligently for the next hour in peaceful solitude before a loud bang startled him. It came from the bathroom he shared with Jim. Though the tritanium walls were soundproof for many species, his Vulcan hearing could still detect more robust sounds. Another bang sounded, then, “Fucking Komack! Who the fuck does he think he is?”
Jim let loose some more choice expletives before Spock heard the distinct hum of the sonic shower engaging. Though he was curious as to what had evoked such a response, he would wait until Jim was ready to tell him. Spock had found it was easier than confronting him. Much like himself, Jim was not readily comfortable sharing more personal issues. It seemed they both had walls that would take time to dismantle.
Satisfied Jim was well, though clearly agitated, he turned back to his computer when it beeped, notifying him that the search was complete. He opened the file and was disheartened. It indicated two issues among the proposed new crew: a communications lieutenant and an engineering ensign.
He pulled up the details on the ensign first. He perused the flags and pressed his lips into a thin line. It seemed the ensign had suffered a minor depressive break, though the records were difficult to track down. Apparently, the ensign’s father was rather resourceful and suppressed much of the information. Though depressive episodes were not grounds for dismissal, being aboard a starship and dealing with the rigors and stressors of such a life, created a unique mental strain. Monitoring and therapeutic evaluations were standard practice for those susceptible to such episodes.
He closed the ensign’s file for the time being and opened the other. This file seemed to have a similar issue with their personnel file, only this one had a tremendous gap in their formative years before six Terran years of age. In fact, the information was non-existent, as if it had been erased, or alternatively, secured behind a high-level, classified wall.
Spock immediately dictated a communication to Starfleet command requesting further information and guidance on the two potential crewmembers, along with his concerns and issues of note and sent it off. He hoped to have an answer by ship’s morning. Spock had just begun to muse on his findings when Jim burst into his room.
“Spock, you will never believe what – “
Turning sharply, Spock held up his hand for silence. Jim’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening. “Rules,” he intoned. “State your purpose.”
Jim stood stock still and bit his lip, contemplating.
During the last few months, their relationship had evolved into something more…unique. It occurred quite by accident after Jim had pulled yet another foolish stunt and put himself in harm’s way. Spock’s grasp on his emotional control had wavered, and once he had gotten Jim back to his quarters and safely within his arms, his fear, frustration, and relief gave way to a dominant side he had not prepared for. He had been rough and punishing, demanding and forceful, and Jim had melted under his touch, keening and mewling his appreciation. Jim’s responses had been intoxicating. His own reactions had been impressive as well.
But in the aftermath, when he had seen the marks and bruises upon Jim’s skin, guilt and shock overtook him. He quickly apologized for his lack of control and rough handling. Jim soothed him, reassuring him he had enjoyed it and that they were marks he would gladly wear. Then he had shyly asked if they could try something new. If Spock would be willing to participate in a dominant/submissive relationship.
Jim’s tongue had darted out, licking his lips in nervousness as he briefly explained the roles. He’d never asked someone for this; there weren’t many he could trust in that way, who wouldn’t take advantage. Jim’s eyes warmed, dilating as he bit his lower lip before confessing how much he desired it.
Spock’s mind recalled the colorful memories of their interaction and imagined further scenarios. He readily agreed to the experimentation.
Then, as would any reputable scientist, he spent days researching the rules and parameters of such a relationship and found it encompassed more than just a variety of sexual pleasure, but a give and take, and exploration of release for them both. But first and foremost, it was based in trust. Further, if he could achieve guiding Jim into subspace, it could provide a meditative means with which Jim could relinquish control without fear of failure or repercussions by entrusting Spock with his every decision. Intrigued, he found himself craving the promise of deeper intimacies.
Over the next several months they experimented, finding a rhythm they both enjoyed. Spock was surprised how naturally they assumed their roles and how much enjoyment they gained from them.
However, given their positions on the Enterprise, they had established a rule early on for initiating conduct. During off duty hours, and only within Spock’s quarters, Jim would announce his intentions by giving two responses. One indicated his purpose within Spock’s quarters: either business or pleasure. ‘Business’ and they would remain captain and commander, discuss relevant ship issues and not venture into their intimate lives. ‘Pleasure’ and they would be together in whatever intimacy they desired.
Admiral Komack had indeed flustered Jim. It was the first time he had disobeyed the rules since they had been established. For that, there would be a necessary consequence, but Spock first needed to know how to proceed.
He could already see Jim’s body vibrating with anticipation, his pupils dilating as his tongue again peeked out to flick along his lower lip. Spock knew what the answer would be. Jim swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing as he whispered out, “Pleasure.”
“Mm.” Spock stood slowly, tucking his hands behind him, and taking deliberate, controlled steps towards Jim. When he could feel the warmth of Jim’s body skin seep into his clothes, he stopped. He did not touch him. There was only one additional question Jim had to answer. It was one Spock had insisted on, to ensure he always had Jim’s consent before continuing.
He leaned forward until he was a mere centimeter away from the delicate lobe of Jim’s ear. Maintaining the minute cushion of air between them, he waited a few pointed breaths, knowing the air caressing along sensitive skin would arouse. Jim’s respiratory rate increased, and if he listened, he could almost hear the rapid throb of Jim’s pulse in his neck.
“Open or obedient?” he asked, his pitch a low rumble.
Once again, Jim would make the choice. If the answer was ‘open’, they would engage in all the parameters of their relationship freely, as any other couple would. If ‘obedient,’ they would fall into their agreed dominant/submissive roles and responsibilities.
Jim’s entire body shivered as he let out a moan, breath hitching. “Fuck. I – I want obedient,” he stammered.
Spock stepped back, nodding once. He looked at Jim, adorned in only his black, Starfleet-issue boxer briefs and raised his brow at the thickening length pressing against the fabric. Jim was already agitated, a heightened state brought on from his apparent disagreement with Komack.
He could sense Jim’s need for stillness. Jim’s desire to submit came from a deep need to reach a singular peace and drown out all the noise within his mind. Spock found he enjoyed providing that solace for him and being able to savor it as well.
After a brief consideration, Spock decided to try an idea he had researched, but they had not yet attempted. It should help Jim relax and, if successful, be quite enjoyable for them both.
“Do not move,” he ordered. He stepped over to his meditation area, removing the kneeling mat and pulling the belt loose from his robe draped nearby. He headed back to his desk and laid the mat on the floor underneath it. Belt in his hand, he turned to face Jim.
“Come here. Back to me, hands clasped to elbows behind you.” Jim moved quickly to obey. Spock took a moment to admire Jim’s bare shoulders and wide expanse of his back. He grabbed his wrists, wrapping the belt around them and binding his hands to his arms. He stepped back. “Turn around.”
He noted Jim’s cock was now fully erect, pushing hard against the constriction of his boxers, and his skin was flushed pink.
“Kneel here,” – he pointed at the mat – “facing out.”
Jim’s face was one of open curiosity, but he did as he was told, dropping soundly to his knees. Spock felt a warmth suffuse him, arousal pooling and simmering in his gut. Jim was gorgeous, pliant, and willing.
Spock sat down in his chair, moving slowly back towards his desk and Jim. “We are going to try something called ‘cock warming,’” he said, pushing authority into his statement that brooked no room for argument. Though Spock took his role seriously, as did Jim, Spock could not stop the blush that pricked his skin, tingling along his ears and cheeks. Sometimes he still could not quite fathom the evolution of their relationship.
Despite his tinge of nervousness, he continued by unzipping his slacks, pushing down the band on his boxers to pull his cock free of its confinement. He was only half-hard, though it was only his Vulcan discipline keeping him so. This scene was not foremost about arousal, though that could happen, but about relaxation and focus, a meditation for Jim in his submissive role.
“You will keep my cock warm with your mouth, and only your mouth. You will not suck or lick or otherwise attempt to arouse.” His voice vibrated, low and deep. “You will not talk unless I approve it nor move from that position. You will remain doing so until I tell you to stop or you need to use your safeword. Understood?”
Jim nodded, eyes bright with anticipation. Spock scooted the chair forward until Jim’s chest was flanked by his legs and held tight between them. “Open,” he commanded.
Jim eagerly did as he was told, and Spock slipped his half hard cock into Jim’s warm, wet mouth. Jim sighed and nuzzled him but did not suck nor use his tongue. Spock’s heart hammered in his side, as he fought to control his body’s reactions to Jim’s lips spread around him, mouth engulfing him. It took a few moments, but Jim adjusted, closing his eyes and laying his head upon Spock’s thigh. Spock let a miniscule sigh escape his lips.
Jim was beautiful, relaxed between his legs.
His fingers twitched, aching to feel him. He gave into the impulse and ran his fingers through Jim’s hair, stroking along his scalp, doling out praise in a gentle purr. “Perfect. You are doing so well.”
A slight whimper vibrated along his cock but nothing more. He indulged a few moments longer before taking a steadying breath, removing his hands, and going back to work at his console. There was work he intended to finish, and this would give Jim time to unwind and relax.
Forty-five minutes went by more quickly than he anticipated. He had accomplished much in such a short period, perhaps driven by the constant reminder of his partner’s mouth around him. He peered down to look and could see even breathing, relaxed closed eyes, and saliva leaking from the corner of Jim’s mouth down his slack. Whether asleep or in subspace, it appeared they could view this interlude as a success. Excellent.
He reached down for Jim, lightly brushing across his scalp, threading his fingers gently through golden locks. Jim hummed and shifted minutely but did not move. Subspace then. “Jim. Open your eyes.”
Jim’s eyes fluttered open – unfocused, drowsy, and tranquil – and he swallowed, his tongue creating pressure along the bottom of Spock’s cock as he did so. Disoriented, he began to sit up, Spock sliding partially out of his mouth. Alarmed at his mistake, Jim quickly caught himself and sunk back down on Spock.
Spock nodded. “Very good,” he soothed. “You remembered.” He continued to reassure him, caressing his hair in even strokes, himself enjoying the light heat of friction building on his sensitive digits. He let the moment linger a bit more before pulling away. “You may release me and sit up.”
Jim did as he was told, dropping Spock from his mouth with a wet plop. He stretched his jaw and rolled shoulders. Spock pushed back from his desk and quickly tucked himself back into his clothes. Hooking his hands under Jim’s arms, he assisted him in maneuvering to stand, surmising he might have issues standing after spending such time on his knees. He was indeed a bit unsteady, his eyes still glazed. Jim’s head fell to his chest, nuzzling in. He held him close until he felt Jim’s muscles engage enough to stabilize his body.
“How do you feel?”
“Mmmm, good. Really good. Relaxed.”
“Then you enjoyed it?”
“Yeah.”
Spock nodded, mentally adding this to the list of activities they could try again. “Turn around and I will untie you.”
“Actually…can we leave it?” Jim blushed deeply. “I want…will you fuck me like this?”
Spock debated. Their scenes did not always mean having intercourse, but sometimes, one or both of them would be so sensitized by their scenes, it was a natural progression they desired.
“I feel so good,” Jim hummed, rubbing his cheek against him like a contented cat, “and I know you can make me feel even better.” He pulled back to look at Spock, those blue eyes piercing and pleading. “Please.”
Spock twitched. He did enjoy Jim being pliant and open for him. They spent so much time in their lives guarded and wary, both professionally and personally, that having this trust and freedom was addicting.
Making sure Jim wished to remain fully in his role, Spock checked in again. “Open or obedient?”
He watched as goosebumps pimpled along Jim’s skin. His nipples peaked and his cock twitched against the black cloth of his underwear, a wet spot steadily growing. “Obedient, gods please.”
“Very well. Here,” Spock pointed, “on the desk. But first, we will remove these.” He put his fingers just inside the waistband of his underwear and ran them along Jim’s skin watching as his pupils dilated further in arousal. He lowered them down painfully slow, ghosting his breath along uncovered skin as he went, teasing them both.
Once naked, Jim shimmied up onto the desktop. Spock sat back in his chair and scooted forward, placing himself between Jim’s legs. He placed his hands upon toned thighs starting just above his knee and pressed slow circles into Jim’s skin with his thumbs. He repeated the motions over and over as he worked his way upwards to the junction of his legs. He used his touch telepathy to create a slight buzz against Jim’s skin – their want and desire manifested into tangible energy – and waited.
He focused on the sensual feel of his fingers digging into firm muscle mass and the pricks of hair rough against his palms. Jim could be worked up, hypersensitized to every touch, by making him focus on one spot while denying all others.
Jim indulged him until Jim’s patience waned and he struggled to remain still. Jim’s cock, red and turgid, twitched in eagerness as the long moments passed and the rhythmic circles drew closer. A small whine escaped as he tilted his head back in frustration.
Spock conceded. He continued the path up to Jim’s groin, thumbs and fingers still working, and pressed deep on either side of Jim’s cock. Hips bucked, and Jim’s whimper grew louder and sharper pitched. The tip of Jim’s cock now glistened with a single, beaded pearl drop.
Though Spock could prolong the interlude, he found himself yearning to bury himself inside Jim, aching to relieve them both. “You may speak freely. However, you will not come until I give you permission. Understood?”
“Yes,” Jim breathed, his eyes darkening to a deep ocean blue.
Without changing the rhythm or the pressure of his digits, he leaned forward and licked the tip of Jim’s cock, tasting the fluid gathered there. He let the semi-sweet flavor burst on his palate, savoring, and then firmly pressed down to hold Jim’s hips still before he swallowed all of Jim in one breath.
“Oh, fuck me,” Jim exclaimed.
Spock pulled off with a pop and ground out, “I intend to,” before engulfing Jim once more. He sucked and licked and teased until Jim’s skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat. Unable to brace himself with his hands or buck into Spock’s mouth, Jim’s thighs shook with the strain. Spock stopped, pulling off when he felt Jim grow thick and heavy against his tongue and his body grow taut under his hands.
Jim groaned loudly in complaint.
Spock resumed his massage, the skin now humid and heated, and watched as Jim fell from his peak. Once he was sure Jim would be able to withstand another round, he engulfed him again. Over and over he repeated the same simple steps; working Jim into a frantic mess before pulling free and waiting while Jim came down, squirming and begging. “Please, I need – Spock, please.”
“Open your mouth.” Jim instantly obeyed. Spock shivered. This was one of the few things Spock considered entirely self-indulgent. He pushed three fingers into Jim’s mouth, pressing tight against his tongue and ordered, “Suck.”
Nostrils flared and eyes blazed as Jim’s plump lips closed around his fingers and gave a hard pull. Spock’s body, having long enjoyed the low simmer, crackled into a robust fire. Jim’s mouth was equal parts divinity and sin. He wrapped his other hand around Jim’s length and slowly stroked. Hips hitched as far as they dared without unbalancing his position, attempting to push flesh harder into his palm. Jim groaned in both annoyance and approval of the pressure.
Spock took a sharp breath. The vibration against his fingers combined with the wet heat of Jim’s mouth, nearly undid him. “Make them wet.”
Jim instantly stopped sucking, instead using his tongue to swirl wildly around his fingers to properly lubricate them. Jim bit down lightly as Spock pulled out, scraping teeth along his delicate skin. Spock’s nerves sang. “Enough,” he gasped. His fingers pulled free, overly sensitive and drenched. At the same time, he released Jim’s cock.
Wrapping an arm around Jim’s waist, he pulled him forward off the desk to stand on shaky legs and drew them together. He dove into Jim’s mouth, kissing full lips and licking his way inside. They kissed until the air in their lungs was scarce and their lips were swollen.
Without warning, he pulled on one side of Jim’s waist, spinning him around. He ran the hand up his back, stopping to push between his shoulder blades and force him face down onto the desk. Jim’s breath blew out in a huff as Spock followed him, his weight pushing down upon him.
He whispered into his ear, “I will have you, exactly like this; bent over my desk while I open you with my fingers.” Jim keened, his breaths heaving. “Once I have indulged myself and you are begging for more, I’ll impale myself, filling you over and over again until the only thing you can manage is my name, screaming out from your lips.”
“Fuuuuck. Oh my gods, yes.”
“Mm, I am no god.” He nipped at the base of his neck, biting and sucking his way back to his ear. “However,” he continued, “you are still not allowed to come without my permission.” Spock dragged his hand down Jim’s side, coming around to grip at the hard, heavy cock dripping between Jim’s legs. To emphasize the point, he squeezed hard at the base, feeling it swell against the pressure. “Understood?”
Jim agreed with a shaky, “Yes.”
Without further preamble, Spock shifted, lifting up from Jim’s body, moving his hand from Jim’s cock to grip his bound arms, while the other, the one whose fingers had been so thoroughly sucked and wetted, trailed lightly along his cleft to graze against a puckered hole.
Jim flinched, gasping at the touch, his hole fluttering with eager interest. Spock rubbed and soothed, slipping a single finger into searing heat. He closed his eyes and breathed out in bliss. Jim clenched tight, teasing him. He made a few languid thrusts, reveling in the tightness, before opening him in earnest, pushing and scissoring and pumping first one, then two fingers. The feeling of Jim’s body wrapped around his fingers was decadent; soft and hot and tight. Cascading waves of pleasure coursed up through his sensitive digits and set his neural receptors ablaze.
He contemplated using a third finger but decided against it. He would rather feel the final stretch around his own cock. He pulled free, watching as Jim’s hole gaped slightly and then flexed, almost fluttering back to normal.
“Look at you,” he purred, running his hands up and down tanned skin. “Beautiful.”
Jim whined, pressing back with what little leverage he could manage.
He didn’t bother undressing; he merely freed himself from his boxers again, pushing them down a bit, and clasped tight to Jim’s hips. He lined up, shivering at the heat emanating from Jim’s core, and slowly pressed.
Everything about Jim was amazing, but especially this. He continued his praise, little phrases he knew set Jim alight: always so good for me, taking me so well, so tight around me, always perfect. He kept going until he was slotted deep inside him, his pelvis against Jim’s own.
However, he had not forgotten Jim’s earlier disobedience. Rules must be followed, and punishment meted out for breaking them.
He bent forward, laying words into his skin as he bit and kissed and sucked marks up one side of his spine and down the other. “You broke the rules, captain, and have yet to suffer the consequences of your actions.” Jim trembled as Spock ground into him. He laved a trail along his marks and murmured, “I believe it is time you do.”
“No. Wait. I – “
Spock quickly lifted away from Jim, leaving only two points of contact; their hips flush against each other and Spock’s length buried deep. He drew back a hand and landed a resounding smack to a perfectly round bottom.
Jim cried out, flinching at the sudden change in sensation. “Oh, fuck.”
Another slap landed firmly on the other buttock, Jim bucking against it. He landed several more in rapid succession, the skin growing red and heated under his palms. His hands tingled and throbbed from it, a small form of torture in itself, though less so than the feeling of Jim’s channel fluttering and squeezing around him in time with each strike.
Breaths already labored, Jim writhed, his entire frame shivering from the sensory input. Spock rubbed and massaged the firm flesh, giving Jim a chance to breathe. “Color?” he asked.
“Green,” Jim panted out. “Definitely fucking green.”
“Mm. Good.” Without hesitating, he resumed the strikes. After landing a dozen more, he stopped. Jim’s restitutions had been adequately paid.
He rewarded Jim with a deep flex of his hips, pulling back and then slowly sinking back in. He repeated it, keeping a measured, torturous pace, and worked them into an inflamed state of need.
Jim, however, had been on the edge too long and was near incoherent, babbling and moaning out in need. “Please, Spock. Please fuck, I can’t – I need more.”
He felt the energy spike along Jim’s skin, his whole body shaking with imminent release. Spock withdrew suddenly, preventing Jim’s orgasm. Jim forcefully conveyed his disapproval with a loud shout.
“Shhhh,” he soothed. “Only for a moment. You do not want to break another rule, do you?”
Jim shook his head, eyes squeezed tight.
“Then breathe deep for me.” He watched as Jim did as he asked, evening out his breaths. He assisted with long strokes up and down his sides and light kisses along his spine, until he could sense that Jim’s body had once again fallen back from the peak. “Excellent.”
He smothered Jim with his weight once again, and bit along his neck to whisper, “Ready for more?”
“Please.”
He ran a hand through Jim’s hair and nipped along his jaw. “So perfect,” he said, as he tightened his fingers, tugging at thick locks to pull Jim’s neck taut while his other hand gripped tight to his hip. He lined up and shoved firmly back inside him.
“Oh. Oh, fuck.”
He snapped his hips, thrusting in long, deep, full strokes. Spock kept a constant pace. By not increasing speed, or changing angles, or shortening his thrusts, it brought them both to a sharpened point and kept them there, never tipping over. Jim began to thrash, his entire body crackling like a live wire searching for a way to expel the built-up charge.
Jim began to beg for release. Spock leaned back, now grasping the firm flesh of Jim’s ass with both hands and threw his hips forward into a single, sharp thrust. Jim’s body bowed as he screamed out in enthusiasm, “Gods, yes. Harder.”
Spock let go of his tightly held control, allowing his desire to rush through him, surging along his nerve endings until his body felt consumed with an almost frenzied need. He pulled back and thrust deep, angling himself and Jim’s hips so that he firmly assaulted Jim’s prostate, rubbing across it with each drive of his hips. Jim’s channel bore down on him.
“More,” Jim breathed, “deeper…oh fuck.” Each word came out in a punched exhale as Spock buried himself to the hilt inside the pliant body beneath him. A mere handful of thrusts later and they were both shaking, their releases fast approaching.
This time, he would not deny them. Spock covered him with his body, one hand coming around Jim’s shoulders to squeeze lightly at his throat, while the other gripped his bound hands tight, and using both points as leverage, he pistoned his hips in a relentless rhythm, giving Jim harder and deeper, until Jim did just as Spock predicted and started screaming his name in time to his thrusts.
“So beautiful,” he gasped. “You have been so very good for me.” Another several thrusts, more rapid than the last. “Tell me what you want.” He used the last shred of his control to growl out, “Beg me.”
Though Jim noises had long become monosyllabic, he cried out, “Please, Spock. Let me come. I need to. Please.”
“Show me,” Spock demanded. “Come for me.”
Jim shouted, loud and long, his body tensing as he gave in and let his pleasure take over. Jim grasped him tight as he came, his channel fluttering and clenching with each pulse. Just as Jim started to tremble in oversensitivity, Spock ground himself against Jim, pushing as deep as he could and let his own orgasm take him. Jim moaned as Spock filled him. They both shuddered as the sensations ebbed, dying down from their pinnacle to leave behind a heavy lassitude.
Spock lifted slightly, relieving Jim of some of his weight and received a low whimper of displeasure. He stroked one hand along damp hair and soothed Jim with low, even tones. “I will give you that in a moment, but for now, I must attend to your other pressing needs.” A smaller noise left Jim, this one of resigned acceptance.
After such an intense session, Jim needed firm, constant touch but even he knew other things must come first.
Leaning back, Spock pulled free of Jim in a low hiss, the cool air a shock after being buried so long in Jim’s welcoming heat. He reached forward and untied Jim’s hands. There were likely to be bruises. He would need to use a dermal regenerator, but he would deal with that once Jim fell asleep.
He rubbed along tendons and muscles, massaging his wrist, forearm, and bicep, and ending with a deep rub into his shoulder before doing the same to the other arm. Jim quietly moaned in relief. “I will be right back,” Spock reassured, leaving Jim prone on his desk.
He discarded his clothes in the hamper on the way to their shared bathroom where he cursorily cleaned himself. He grabbed a washcloth, wetting it with warm water and headed back to take care of Jim.
He had not moved. Jim’s eyes were closed, and his breathing had fallen into deep, even draws. He placed a hand softly on Jim’s lower back. “Jim? I’m going to clean you now and then we will move to the bed,” before doing just as he promised. A short, soft whimper spilled from Jim as he wiped him down. He threw the cloth into the hamper and through a bit of maneuvering, got Jim into bed and under the sheets. With a cursory check that everything was satisfactory, he dimmed the lights and climbed into bed with Jim.
He shuffled over to him, leaning slightly forward to bear some of his weight on Jim. A small hum followed a deep sigh on contentment. Spock found himself purring, a deep rumbling in his chest, as Jim fell into a sated sleep, his body and mind quieted. With Jim taken care of, he closed his eyes and drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.