Work Header


Work Text:

“That was so fake.” McCoy rolled his eyes. “They just tell you what you wanna hear.”

“It was a good laugh anyways.” Jim chuckled from where he leaned with his elbows up on the captain’s chair.

A few days of layover for parts meant they went to partake in the planet’s festivals for leisure. Spock did not think any of that was very enjoyable, and had to admit that he agreed with the doctor. There was no logic in telling fortunes, despite Chekov’s insistence that the stars were very reliable.

Now that they were back on the bridge, Spock pushed all lingering feelings from the weekend and attempted to refocus on his work. Out of the view port, they all watched the planet grow smaller as they left orbit.

“What did you think?” Jim came to stand by Spock’s station where he was already busy.

Spock had been long-since meaning to talk to Dr. McCoy about the indication that he may be ill. It seemed that with the development of his relationship with Jim from minor annoyance to trusted companion, something else struck deep inside him.

Jim’s presence often left Spock feeling dizzy, with the sensation that he was flying. It was as if his body were being lifted high on clouds. It was very hard to gain focus after all of this.

He was so caught up in it all, the feeling of intense heat as if he’d just stepped onto Vulcan ground, that it took him a second to realize Jim still awaited an answer.

“I must say that I agree with Doctor McCoy.” Spock said, causing Jim’s eyes to widen and several chuckles to fill the bridge. “There is no logic in fortune telling. They simple tell you vague statements that humans interpret however they wish.”

One thing Spock greatly appreciated about Jim was his ability not to let things Spock said get to him. Though lately, Spock did attempt to curve his usual choice of phrases to disincline what humans might consider harsh, Jim had never been one to take any of it too personality.

“Ah, I believe you lack the inner eye, my friend.” Jim said, putting on an imitation of the accent that the fortune teller had, and stroking his chin as if he had the same sort of beard that the fortune teller had. Everyone seemed to catch on and laughed.

“You believe yourself to be in procession of this eye?” Spock asked, attempting to keep his voice even and ignoring the twinge of a smile that threatened his own features.

“Ah, yes…” Jim said again. “You –“ Jim spun around on the spot and pointed at Chekov, who jumped. “Born under…Saturn, I predict. Aquarius?”

“G-Gemini, sir.” Chekov squeaked, and everyone laughed once more.

“Ah, okay, maybe I’m lacking too.” Jim chuckled, dropping the accent and lowering his voice so that only Spock could hear him. “Maybe stars aren’t my thing. But I can think of something that is…”

“Leadership?” Spock offered, only slightly intending it to mean that Jim should get back to work. As much as Spock found himself enjoying the captain’s company, he also valued the ability to breathe, something that he found difficult in Jim’s presence.

“Chess.” Jim smirked and Spock felt as if he’d just missed a step going down stairs. “We haven’t played in a while. Do you think its rusted you up some?”

“My skills are as optimum as ever.” Spock replied.

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “My quarters tonight? It’ll be nice to get back to routine.”

Spock nodded, and Jim went back to work, stopping over Chekov’s shoulder at the helm and calling to Uhura about up-coming missions.

Spock attempted to immerse himself as well, turning back to his station and forcing all thought of Jim from his mind for now. Despite this, he found he made two mistakes by the end of his shift, both occurring when Jim stopped by long enough to rest a hand on Spock’s shoulder.

The searing heat from the touch was enough to make his mental shields dissipate. The fabric of his shirt kept him from reading Jim’s emotions, but he was still left it a foggy haze of his own feelings for approximately three minutes following Jim’s departure.

Finally, his shift was over. He immediately pushed back from the console and started, not towards his own quarters, but towards Jim’s. Jim had left with a few other senior officers about twenty minutes ago, and Spock prayed they were done occupying the captain’s time.

“Hey, come on in. You want a drink or something?” Jim asked when Spock stepped inside.

Spock was momentarily thrown for a loop. In the short time since he’d left the bridge, Jim had seemed to completely shed his work persona. He was dressed in just a t-shirt and sweatpants, his legs casually up on the desk where the chess board had yet to be set up.

Spock had seen Jim like this before, but rarely. One other time, to be exact, did Jim assume that level comfort during one of their games. It had been their last game before leave. Not only was it one of the first times Spock had seen Jim’s arms so exposed up close, but it had been the first time Spock had lost a match in quite a while.

“Yes.” Spock managed, and Jim went to the replicator, punching in codes for drinks. He was bent over, and Spock noticed the way his pants rode low on his hips. Coupled with the way his t-shirt rose up, Spock could not look away from the exposed stripe of skin on the small of his back, perfectly tanned and with the slightest dimple.

He had to leave. He felt…not himself once again. It was not dizziness anymore as much as it was overwhelming heat rising from his skin, pushing out the cuffs of his sleeves and up around the collar of his uniform. Perhaps he should have changed into something else before coming here.

As much as the feeling of loss of control worried him (his heart hardly ever slammed like this, and he could not regulate it back), he also longed to stay. He walked to the desk and sat down across from Jim’s chair.

Jim returned with two cups of tea; one hot and one cold. Spock carefully took his tea without touching Jim’s hand. Jim just grinned and playfully clinked the rim of his glass against Spock’s before taking a drink.

“So, that weekend was pretty fun, right?” Jim asked, taking a sip of his drink and leaning back casually in his chair.

“I found much of the festivities…odd.” Spock admitted as he began to set the board up.

“Like what?”

“What is the purpose of a ferris wheel?” Spock asked. “It does not go fast enough to evoke the adrenaline rush that humans perceive as a thrill.”

“Those are mostly for the view.” Jim laughed. It had sort of been Spock’s goal to illicit that wonderful laugh. He was pleased to know it had worked.  

“That view was not very special either.” Spock pressed on, slightly more confident now. “We get much better views on the ship.”

To Spock’s chagrin, Jim did not laugh. He just put on that smirk that send sparks up Spock’s spine and leaned in over the table. “You want me to let you in on a…secret of human culture? It’s not really about the view either.”

“Then what is the point?” Spock asked blankly.

“Kissing.” Jim’s smirk grew wider. “Traditionally, you take your date on the ferris wheel, and when you get to the top…you kiss them.”

“F-Fascinating.” Spock managed to say past his rapidly drying mouth.

The events of his own experience on the ferris wheel played over in his mind. He’d been on the ride, smashed between Jim and Dr. McCoy, the latter of whom complained the whole time that he was going to throw up.

He tried to imagine how the situation might have differed had he and Jim been alone in the gondola. Would Jim have put his mouth on Spock’s the way Spock had observed humans kiss? Suddenly, all of Spock’s strange feelings seemed to click and make sense. He wanted that very much.

“You weren’t expecting that.” Jim laughed again. “Gosh, you should see your face. You’re blushing…”

As much as Spock enjoyed Jim’s laughter, he did not appreciate when it was directed at Spock in a way akin to teasing. He immediately attempted to purge all color and emotion from his face as he straightened back in his chair.

“Sorry, sorry…” Jim chuckles faded and he began to set the board up once more. “But, uh…it wasn’t all a loss right? The fortune teller…”

“Was fake.” Spock said.

“Right, because he was doing it wrong.” Jim kept his eyes down and smiled at if he were sharing a private joke with himself. “He was looking to the stars, when everyone knows palm reading it the most accurate.”

“Is it?” Spock knew the general idea was that different lines on the palms supposedly attributes to different personality traits and indications of one’s future. Overall, it held no logic.

“Sure.” Jim did not look up from the half-finished board, but Spock could see his cheeks glowed. “It’s also pretty easy to do…”

Spock could not breathe. He knew what Jim was implying. He was implying that he himself knew how to read palms and that Spock should offer his hand for such a reading. Spock’s fingers instinctively tightened in his lap. He could not do that. He hands were much too sensitive to be touched by another person.

But Jim…with his persistent smiles and laughter, he wasn’t just another person. He was someone Spock trusted, whose company Spock sought out without really realizing it.

“I could –“ Jim eyes snapped up from the board to Spock’s. Their bright blue color was just as fascinating as it always was in the short seconds Spock allowed himself to look into Jim’s eyes.

Spock found himself suddenly extending his right arm out over the table. He wasn’t sure when he’d made the conscience decision to move, yet it’d happened.

Jim’s eyes lit up even more and a small smile graced his features as he reached across the table. Spock’s breath caught in his throat as Jim’s hands found his, gently turning it palm-up.

“Let’s see…” Jim held Spock’s hand in his and looked at it for a moment before tracing one fingertip across Spock’s palm. Spock attempted to even his breathing to delay his arousal for as long as possible. “You have a long life line.”

“That is…good.” Spock said, his gaze fixated on the way Jim’s fingertip was tracing over this line. He sucked in a breath as Jim’s finger travelled to another more sensitive spot.

“Your sun line…” Jim traced a spot from the bottom of his palm to the base of his pinky, and Spock shivered. “It’s curved. That means you’re a hard worker.”

“I see…” Spock whispered. His free hand was now clenched in a tight fist in his lap, and he could feel his arousal growing. He tried to will it down, but Jim was moving now to another spot.

“Fate line…” He now traced the pads of his index and middle fingers up and down the middle of Spock’s palms. Spock shuddered, his eyes falling closed for a few seconds. “This means you take your career very seriously.”

Spock just nodded, unsure if Jim had been looking for a response. His eyes were still fixated on their hands, as were Jim’s. His two fingers moved up and down that same line over and over again, and Spock bit his bottom lip to keep from moaning.

“This,” Jim now traced Spock’s thumb and Spock’s free hand clenched tighter. “It means you’re very logical…see how the bottom portion is larger than the top?” Jim’s eyes flicked up to Spock’s now, so alight with mischief and love. Spock could feel it radiating in from where his shields had broken.

“…Jim.” Spock whispered, his voice husky.

“This,” Jim moved to massage the heel of Spock’s hand and Spock actually moaned softly. “It means you’ve got good intuition.” He pressed that point again, and Spock moaned once more.

“This means you’ll be wealthy…” Jim’s fingers pressed hard along the top of Spock’s palm, but he was not watching what he was doing. He was staring intently at Spock with dark eyes. Spock moaned again as the fingers went back and forth.

Spock’s breathing was fast now, and he could feel the color like fire in his cheeks. Each second Jim was touching him had knocked his shields lower and lower, and he could now feel pure love and lust flowing in. He could not hide his own arousal any longer. In addition to his moans, he could feel his erection straining against the front of his pants.

“You like that?” Jim asked knowingly, a glint in his eyes as his fingers traced wildly over Spock’s palm.

“Oh…Jim.” Spock moaned, nearly doubling over across the table in pleasure.

“This means you’re smart.” Jim traced up Spock index finger and Spock closed his eyes.

“Jim…” He whispered, almost desperate.

“This means you’re kind, and this means that you’re passionate.” He traced up Spock’s middle finger and then his ring finger.

Spock knew what was next, his most sensitive spot. His free hand had gone from his lap to now gripping the edge of the table with force. He was nearly doubled over, yet his eyes were still fixated on Jim. Even if Spock attempted to pull his hand away, the brush of the back of his hand against Jim’s hand that held it would be enough to send him over the edge.

“Jim…” Spock whimpered, a slight warning edge to his voice. He did not know what to do. There was the slight scrapping noise of the chair as Spock was unable to keep his hips still, his cock seeking the friction from the fabric of his pants.

“This…” Jim’s eyes bored into Spock’s as he ghosted his fingertips across his palm towards his pinky. “This means you’re gonna come for me.”

Spock’s eyes squeezed shut and his body collapsed onto the table as his orgasm took hold. His free hand gripped the edge of the table with force and he was vaguely aware that he may have been screaming. The pads of Jim’s fingers moved up and down Spock’s pinky, the tingling going straight to his groin as he felt wave after wave of pleasure, as well as the hot rush of semen coating the insides of his underwear.

“God, I love you.” Jim said, his voice full of lust.

Spock lifted himself off the table long and reached out, closing his fingers in the fabric of Jim’s shirt and yanking him across the table. Their mouths met in a frenzy of hot tongues. Each of Jim’s moans were swallowed by Spock as he pushed Jim flat on his back across the table, sending chess pieces crashing to the floor, as well as their drinks.

Their tongues swirled together, Jim even sucking on Spock’s and elicited several moans as Spock tore at Jim’s clothes. Spock’s lungs screamed for air, and they broke apart just as Spock slipped one hand down Jim’s waistband.

Spock’s hand still tingled from Jim’s earlier ministrations, and he moaned along with Jim as his hand wrapped around the straining flesh of his erection. Jim’s head fell back against the table, exposing the hollow of his throat, which Spock ravishes with teeth and tongue.

“Oh, God, Spock!” Jim moaned, rocking his hips into Spock’s hand.

Spock stroked Jim only a few times before the human was shaking with his release. His arms were around Spock’s neck, and his legs were tight around Spock’s waist, pressing Spock’s still sensitive cock against Jim’s ass.

Afterwards, neither one of them moved. Both were still gasping as if they’d just been running. Spock pulled his hand out from Jim’s pants. The hot coating of semen was enough to already put ideas in his head for round two.

After a moment, he realized his weight must be crushing Jim, so he gently leaned up. Jim was just staring up at the ceiling, a look of almost amazement on his face.

“Do you…” Jim sighed. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?”

“I wonder if it as long as I have wanted you.” Spock answered.

“I feel like I’ve wanted you since forever.” Jim chuckled.

“Then, yes.” Spock said. “It is for as long as I have wanted you.”

Jim laughed that amazing laugh of his and wrapped his arms around Spock’s neck, bringing him back down for another kiss. This time it was slow and tender, their tongues dancing and tasting.

“…We have a mess to clean up.” Jim said sheepishly when they broke apart.

“It can wait. I intend for us to do much more tonight, ashayam.” Spock said, wrapping his arms around Jim and lifting him up.

Jim did not question this, nor what it was that Spock had called him. He only laughed and buried his face into the crook of Spock’s neck. As Spock carried Jim to the bed, he could not help but wonder if it truly was fate.