Sex isn’t high on Spock’s list. Not in a negative way—he just doesn’t think about it. But most of the time, when Jim asks, Spock will readily consent. When he doesn’t, it’s usually for work or meditation, which lets Jim know that, no, he can’t be distracted this time, Captain.
Tonight, Jim’s nestled against Celestia’s chest when he feels Spock’s hand around his ankle.
“Do you wish to engage in intercourse?”
The ankle jerks.
Celestia obligingly lifts their wing so Jim can sit up and study Spock. Pupils are slightly blown. Bond’s simmering a little, the beginnings of a boil. He’s serious.
For once, Jim’s the one who hesitates, even though he is definitely game. He looks at Celestia.
They nuzzle him. I will be here.
Jim cups their jowls, breath shuddering out. Of course. They won’t leave the room. They won’t. And—and even if they did, they’ll still be here. One.
Jim smiles weakly. “How can I say no to that?”
“Well, I’m not.” Jim takes Spock’s hand and follows him to the bed.
“Do you wish me to build shields—”
“No.” Jim swallows. “No.”
Spock merely inclines his head. Even though they’re bonded, he still asks if he wants to put up a wall between Jim and Celestia before sex. Like they’re two separate minds. Doesn’t he know they’re not? Separate bodies, sure, but never—never that.
What's that quote? Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
“An unhealthy point of view, Jim,” Spock murmurs.
“Not tonight, Spock,” Jim snaps wearily.
They strip, sharing a few kisses, Jim nipping at Spock’s fingers to hear his breath hitch. Jim settles over him, then Spock turns so they’re both on their sides. He holds up a hand. Jim nods fervently.
The pleasure centers of his brain light up and oh, fuck yes. It’s like a telepathic g-spot. Jim’s gaping mouth brushes Spock’s chin and lips. Spock presses their foreheads together and lets their feelings tangle into something world-changing—Jim knows it is, because he’s seen it, seen how he and Spock have branded themselves in the history of so many planets, and it all started with this, this innate sense of each other.
There is something more, Spock says, which Jim finds very hard to believe. Follow.
A brief haze of sensation, and a weight’s straddling him. At first, Jim’s sure it’s Spock.
Then a voice rasps, “Mm, Jim,” and his eyes snap open because—
Bones bites his lip and swivels his hips. He’s hot and tight around Jim’s cock, cheeks a lovely pink, hair mussed like someone’s been tugging at it.
Jim’s hands spasm on his best friend’s chest. “What?”
Bones’ hands bracket his head as he finds a better angle. Lips Jim’s stared at too much fall open, and the sounds—but no, where’s—
Jim’s head snaps to the side, and there is Spock.
“What is this?” Jim croaks.
“You desire him,” Spock replies.
“I would never—”
“I am aware. However.”
Bones chuckles. “Don’t worry, Jim. We’re not forgettin’ anyone.” He takes Spock’s hand and starts sucking three fingers.
“Oh,” Jim whispers, “Oh.”
“Indeed,” Spock says tightly.
Guilt collapses under fuck yes. Jim thrusts up, and Bones’ moans are fucking gorgeous, muffled by Spock’s fingers.
“How long?” Jim whimpers.
“Long enough,” Spock says.
“Shit, Spock. Shit.” Jim tosses his head back. “Fuck!”
“That’s right, Jim,” Bones murmurs, “Give it up, come on.” Jim opens his eyes to see him lapping at Spock’s fingers, looking up through his eyelashes.
Bones leans close. A soft little smile, the one Jim’s had the privilege to see so many times, presses against his lips.
“We got you.”
Jim’s brain explodes. Bones moans against his throat…Spock breaks the meld.
They stare at each other as they catch their breath.
“I love you,” Jim says.
Happiness flows quietly between them. “And I you.”
Rustling. It’s only Amanda, turning in her sleep. Even though he’s the telepath, Spock makes a point to shield his rider bond for sex. Jim can’t even imagine...
He doesn’t have to, now.
Celestia, who’d turned around for Spock’s comfort, rises from their nest of blankets and cushions. Jim props himself up on shaky arms to hug their neck. Their reproductive organs were removed when their owners found out they were sterile, so there’s no magnified arousal. But there’s definitely pleasure—pleasure at being taken care of, of being accepted, safe.
Jim huffs. “Bones isn’t interested, Cel.”
“You sound certain,” Spock says.
“I’m known ‘im longer than you have. Trust me.”
“While my trust is not in question, I disagree.”
“Oh yeah?” Jim turns his face back into Celestia’s scales. “Prove it.”
Spock can say all he wants about Vulcan logic; he’s just as much a sucker for a challenge as Jim is. Even though, if there’s ever a no-win scenario, it’s this one—this battle Jim knows not to fight.
“If you insist.”
Jim laughs and wraps himself in Celestia’s presence. “Sure, Spock. Sure.”