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Ship's night, Starship Enterprise

A TOS Hypertext Round Robin By Karmen Ghia, Jane Skazki, Ellen Fremedon, Kira-nerys, T'Lin T'Thrill, Marcy, Acidqueen, MizzMarcee, Mecca, Menolly, Cait N, J Juls, Hypatia Kosh, Dread Nought, Lyrastar, Sunbeam, Istannor, Laura JV, Slasherfem

Ship's night, Starship Enterprise.

~end of Karmen Ghia part~

The captain strolled the deserted corridors.

Kirk was running, and something was chasing him, something he didn't want to have catch up with him; in front of him something he desperately needed to find, needed to ... just needed, more than breathing.

Welcome, Writers! Narrative in progress. Proceed at your own risk.






















TOS Hypertext Round Robin


The captain strolled the deserted corridors. It was mid gamma shift, dead time. A man could stretch his legs, expand his lungs, clock up five circuits of the saucer, step back into his cabin and his eyes would close before his head hit the pillow.

It usually worked.

He was on the sixth circuit.

It had been one of those days.

A transporter glitch had turned serious as two shuttles collided when a plasma surge scrambled their sensors. And a bunch of Nidien pirates had turned up to try and take advantage of the confusion of a rescue operation involving e-suits, safety lines and triage in vacuo.

No casualties, not permanent ones. McCoy hadn’t even had recourse to miracles. But the captain had seen the effects in the eyes of the few people he’d encountered on circuits one thro’ five. They’d all come face to face with death. Close enough to count the pores on his nose, as Scotty had memorably put it before he’d recapped the scotch and taken the all-but-empty bottle back to his cabin.

Seven.

"Is everything okay, Captain?"

Hikaru Sulu, one arm supporting his helm partner, emerged from the observation lounge into the corridor.

"I thought you two were off-duty hours ago," Kirk said severely.

"I commed Chekov and he wasn’t in his cabin, so..."

The ensign had been piloting one of the shuttles. Kirk tried to determine, without asking, if Chekov was drunk or merely asleep on his feet.

"I was thinking," Chekov said, a tad defensive. "I couldn’t sleep."

Kirk and Sulu shrugged at each other. Telling Chekov not to worry was like water off a duck’s back at a time like this. Kirk wondered whether to tell the youngster about the beneficial effects of five circuits of the saucer, only it hadn’t worked for him tonight.

"You’re taking him to his cabin now?" he checked with the lieutenant.

"I’m taking myself," Chekov corrected huffily. He tugged his tunic straight, put one foot in front of the other and tripped over it.

Kirk grabbed Chekov’s free arm to keep him on his feet. "What was he doing in the observation lounge?" he asked Sulu over the top of Chekov’s head. The ensign was staring at the deck, as if wondering why it hadn’t come up and hit him.

"Looking at the wreckage."

"It’s still out there?"

"Tractor beams are off line."

"Shit," Kirk said.

"Scotty said he didn’t have anyone awake enough to fix them."

"Is that Chekov’s cabin?"

"Yes." Sulu propped his half of Chekov against the bulkhead. "Thanks, Captain. I’ll take care of him. I don’t think he’s really all that drunk, just exhausted and too hyper to sleep."

"Well, he’s not the only one," Kirk agreed. He slipped his arm out from under Chekov’s, and then replaced it as the ensign threatened to collapse under his own weight. "Take it easy, there, Pavel."

"I’m fine," Chekov insisted.

"Damn. Scotty said the security system was fritzed. This door won’t open."

"That’s why I was in the observation lounge."

"Well, why the hell didn’t you say, you idiot. Someone could have been fixing it."

"Take him back to your cabin," Kirk said.

"I don’t want to go back to his cabin," Chekov said, in a whisper that he evidently expected to escape the helmsman’s perfectly good hearing.

"Oh?"

"We could go back to your cabin," Chekov suggested confidentially. He snuggled into Kirk’s arms.

"Makes sense," Sulu agreed. He wasn’t really paying attention. He’d opened the maintenance panel beside the door and was methodically pulling connectors. "It’s bigger."

"Is it?" Chekov asked. Kirk frowned, wondering if his continued participation in this rather odd conversation was a good idea. Chekov was looking up at him thoughtfully.

"No," Kirk said.

Chekov puzzled over this for a moment.

"Done it," Sulu announced. "I’ll take over, Captain." He hesitated. "I mean, if you..."

"Sure. He’s all yours."

"Good night, sir," Chekov said correctly. Then he stood up on his toes and kissed his startled captain full on the lips.

"Good night, Chekov," Kirk said, once he got the use of his mouth back. He rolled his eyes at Sulu. "Are you sure he’s not drunk?"

"Maybe he is," Sulu said quickly. "Yeah, he probably is. Very drunk."

"I’ve always wanted to do that," Chekov said, now behaving as if Kirk wasn’t there and Sulu was the sole recipient of his confidences.

"Shut up, Chekov." Sulu bundled the ensign in through the door of his cabin. As he tried to follow his friend, Chekov put the brakes on and looked back at his captain.

"After today, I wanted to tell you."

"That’s okay," Kirk reassured him.

Chekov nodded and allowed himself to be gently propelled into the cabin.

The door slid shut and Kirk took a deep breath. It had indeed been a hell of a day. Maybe he too should be telling a certain person how he felt.

~end of Jane Skazki part~


Eight circuits ... Nine ... Ten.

He followed that train of thought halfway through an eighth circuit of the saucer, until raised voices from Sickbay distracted him.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


He followed that train of thought halfway through an eighth circuit of the saucer, until raised voices from Sickbay distracted him. The noise was coming from McCoy's office. He hesitated a moment before stepping into the door's sensor space.

"Bones? What's all the--"

McCoy and Spock looked up from opposite sides of McCoy's desk. There was a mostly empty bottle between them.

"--racket..." Kirk let the door close behind him, avoiding the wreckage of another bottle on the floor. Hardly anything in the office was where he remembered seeing it last. Or in comparable condition. "Bones? Spock? What the hell happened in here?"

~end of Ellen Fremedon part~


"I'll tell you what happen'd here, Capt'in, sur!"

A moment passed and Kirk sensed his officers falling into an instinctive, cooperative, self-preservation mode.



TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Kirk was running, and something was chasing him, something he didn't want to have catch up with him; in front of him something he desperately needed to find, needed to ... just needed, more than breathing.

Something diffuse, intangible.

Someone.

His heartbeat a heavy thump in his ears, and the noise grew louder with each agonizing step as his feet thudded against the floor of his ship. The sound echoed, bounced off the walls; a hollow sound that made his anxiety grow.

And then, he saw the shadowy figure of something ahead. Black robes billowing. Something ... someone.

Spock.

"Wait up!" Kirk shouted. "Wait. Don't go ..."

*Don't leave me*

That's when he woke up, sweating, aching and alone.

Kirk forced himself out of bed, knowing that sleep wouldn't come for many hours now. He'd only fallen asleep minutes ago, and he knew he'd just have to face another sleepless night.

"He's gone," Kirk told himself once more, wincing at the sound of his own voice, the flatness of it, the .... feeling of being lost growing for each day. It was as though the truth of Spock not being by his side just wouldn't sink in, no matter how many days, weeks or even months passed by since they had both left the Enterprise.

Kirk roamed the rooms of his house. It was situated on the ocean, barely ten minutes by hovercar from Los Angeles city. The bungalow was a beautiful place, one that he'd thought would help him feel better, as though he'd finally found a house that he could call home, but he was itching to get away from it.

*Perhaps you should go to Vulcan to find Spock, and let him know that you've made a mistake.*

But fear surged inside him. Of what he couldn't quite tell.

He could still remember the blank look on Spock's face that very last day. Kirk winced. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, so ... unforgiving when he denied the feelings he'd had for his first officer for ... years.

But the desolation and shuttered expression in Spock's black eyes told him that no matter what he had truly meant, rejection, plain and simple, was what Spock had seen on his face. And inside, Kirk knew very well that it wasn't how he truly felt. He loved Spock but couldn't convince himself to admit it out loud.

Something held him back. It was fear, fear of his own feelings and the strong emotions he saw in the face of a man that he'd worked beside for five whole years. Emotions that had no business being there.

Kirk swallowed. He had never expected Spock to act on the tension that existed between them, never expected Spock to ever bring it up. And when he did ... Kirk was ashamed of his own reaction. He'd been so afraid that rather than acknowledging the fear, he'd lashed out and driven Spock away, the only person he had ever truly ... loved.

So, now what was he supposed to do?

~end of Kira-nerys part~

The walls of the bungalow were suddenly closing in on him, he had to get out.

He made coffee.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Eight circuits ... Nine ... Ten.

Kirk was still wound up too tight to settle down for the night. The incident with Chekov only added to his troubles. For months now, he had been harboring feelings for Spock -- feelings far stronger than mere friendship -- but kept them to himself.

'After today, I wanted to tell you.' Chekov had said ... and he had a point ... days like today made us see that there may not be a tomorrow, so we should make the most of the time we have. Perhaps it *was* the right time for Kirk to tell Spock how he felt ...

But then again, what would be the point?

After all, Spock had said time and time again that he could not experience emotions as a human would ... and his discomfort around Nurse Chapel, after she confessed her love of him, was plain for all to see. He did not want to jeopardize the friendship they now shared by confessing his true feelings ... yet on the other hand, he ached to be with him.

After his tenth circuit of the ship, he had altered his course, and suddenly realized he was just outside of Spock's quarters.

He stood, staring at the door.

Several times, he moved as if he would press the door buzzer, then change his mind. He went so far as to even walk away, only to return once more. Finally, with a softly spoken curse, he gave in to temptation and raised his hand to press the buzzer ... only to pull away suddenly, as the door opened before him.

~end of T'Lin part~

A startled Uhura met his gaze.

Kirk took a took a step away from the door as two forms locked together in a kiss stumbled backwards out the door.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"I'll tell you what happen'd here, Capt'in, sur!" McCoy slurred, stumbling slightly as he stood and attempted to round his desk, kicking an empty bottle in the process. "Yer goddamm'd Vulcan first ossifer is a drunken lunatic!"

Jim's face showed his shock at the situation. Had all his senior staff lost their mind this evening? "My first 'ossifer,' Dr. McCoy? It seems that you, yourself, have had way too much to drink this evening," Kirk stated sternly.

"Yessir'ee, you are correct." McCoy attempted to nod his head assertively, but dipped so low that he nearly struck his forehead against the desk he was clutching for support. "But I'm still sober 'nough to know that what went on here today was neither logical or spec...exsp...expected like this fool believes!" McCoy stammered, his heated gaze settling on the man still seated in the doctor's private office.

At this statement, Jim forgot McCoy's condition and turned his attention to his first officer. "Spock, you believe that what went on here today was avoidable? I would like to hear your reason for this."

"Captain," Spock straightened in his chair. Jim noticed his difficulty in keeping his posture rigid and seemed to sway slightly from side to side. Spock? Drunk? Never before had Jim seen Spock take any more than the occasional sip of alcohol, and then only in rare times of private celebration between the three of them or at formal, ceremonial occasions when a toast was expected. As if satisfied that he had perfected his delicate balancing act, Spock continued. "I did not state that the incident today was either logical or expected. I merely stated that with the energy field generated by the proximity of the shuttles to one another, the amplification of the warp core temperature by three point one six nine, which was created from the stasis holding position of the ship at the time, and the stability of the plasma being compromised because of the increased heat in the field, that the possibility of this occurrence could have been predicted within an error factor of twenty-seven point eighteen percent."

"See, Jim! There he goes again!" McCoy shouted.

Jim shook his head toward Bones with a quick glance in an attempt to silence him. Looking back at Spock, he stated, "Are you saying we should have known this was going to happen? You're talking about a pretty big error factor when you say twenty-seven point...whatever percent, Spock." He heard the defensive tone in his voice. He, as much as anyone, would have liked to have avoided the events of the day, and the emotional trauma that had seemed to affect everyone onboard in the hours since.

"Twenty-seven point eighteen, Jim, and I am not attempting to place blame. I am making an observation, nothing more."

"So why didn't we know about this ahead of time, Mr. Spock? We've landed multiple shuttles before without incident."

"Indeed, however there has never before been an attempt with two shuttles while the ship was being held in a station-keeping position. It is a risk factor never previously considered."

"So, what you're saying is that there was nothing to base this criteria on prior to the accident. That we had no way of knowing that this would happen...until it happened."

"I am saying that had my data been more complete, we would have been aware of the possibility."

Now it was beginning to all make sense. The reason why Spock was sitting in McCoy's office locked in battle and stewed to the gills was becoming obvious. "I thought you said you weren't trying to lay blame. Seems to me you are sitting here blaming yourself for something that we had no way of knowing. Spock, you can't blame yourself for a design flaw. We can be grateful that no one was killed and make sure the same situation isn't repeated."

"Jim," McCoy interrupted as he straightened, somewhat. "I wouldn't go there. That's exactly what I've been trying to tell the stubborn son-of-a-bitch for the last three hours and it only gets him more pissed off."

"Perhaps if you had stayed sober, you both would be thinking clearly, Doctor!" Jim replied, the irritation at the situation evident in his voice.

"Ah, Jim! It just ain't polite to let a man drink alone!"

Jim rubbed his hand across his forehead. He was getting the mother of all headaches, but certainly didn't trust Bones' judgment to treat him, not in the current state he was in. "Bones...go to bed. Consider that an order. Spock, you're coming with me. We'll deal with this mess in the morning after we have recovered the wreckage. I'm going to need you thinking clearly, so it's off to your cabin, a cold shower and to bed with you." Jim didn't add that it would be his wish to crawl in that bed with him, now was certainly not the time.

"Yes, Jim," Spock replied and rose from the chair with more difficulty than his usual grace afforded him. Once steady on his feet, he headed for the door.

Walking beside him so he would be there to catch him, as he had to Pavel just a short while before, Jim called over his shoulder to his chief medical officer, "Bones, make a note so you won't forget. I want detox injections ordered for any crewmember who has even smelled alcohol tonight."

"Sure...sur...I'll note make of that right now," Leonard waved with a toss of his hand as he sauntered unsteadily toward his sleeping quarters. Jim knew Bones was not going to remember his order and decided to take it up with the doctor first thing in the morning, when he was thinking clearly. He knew he could write up the majority of his senior staff for their actions this evening, but who would clean up this mess if his senior officers were all confined to quarters?

After getting Spock to his cabin, Jim decided this night was not going to get any better no matter how many turns around the saucer he took. Actually, the privacy of his cabin seemed the only refuge to the insanity that seemed to have gripped the crew. Better to let them work this out for themselves and deal with it fresh tomorrow. The door of his cabin slid open and he stepped inside. His aching head welcomed the darkness. He knew this cabin like the back of his hand. He certainly didn't need to call on the lights to strip down and get into bed. Dropping the last of his clothing on the floor, he felt for the sheet. He thought he remembered throwing the covers into place this morning as he rose, but when he finally located the hem halfway down the bed, decided he was mistaken. Well, it had been a day for confusion.

Slipping under the blanket and stretching out, he realized that there was something wrong. Just as he turned to see what was keeping him from moving to his spot right in the middle of the bed, an arm snaked around his waist. From out of the darkness came the sound of, "Keptin, Sulu was right. Your cabin is bigger."

~end of T'Thrill part~

Jim sat up with a start.

"What the….?"




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


He made coffee. Why not? Sleep was completely out of the equation. Any more tension couldn't change anything. Still operating under vague feelings of shame, he used the fitful glow of the city to see by rather than turn on the lights.

Grinding, measuring, spooning, brewing. The ceremony was a study in what Bruce Lee called the serenity of repetition. And the familiar movements and odors began to unknot some of the ropes of tension strung along his back.

The darkness was soothing too. It might be the kind of illumination on the Enterprise late in the shift. Here in this incubatory realm he felt as though he could almost think his way through the problems he'd given himself.

Spock was gone, but he hadn't been the one to run away. He had dug his spurs into Spock as surely as if it had been a royal command.

*Look what you've done, James.* Jim poked his cup around in a little circle and stared at it. Suddenly drinking the brew wasn't as fulfilling as making it.

What was it Bones had said of him once? "Self recriminations are easy, captain..."

Yes; he'd been deserving of a "captain" speech that day. Forcing decisions that were unpleasant for the sake of the ship...one of many such incidents.

"...self recriminations are easy, captain, but its quite another thing to actually examine what you've done from a distance. Your knack for guilt isn't very original..."

The words had hurt. Bones' advice often did when he was in need of a scolding. Or when Bones felt he was repeating the mistakes of his past--that *really* got the CMO riled up.

"...isn't very original...have you even taken a look at your own logs, Jim? I mean, really, actually looked at them?"

"...what am I looking for, Bones?"

"I'll tell you if you can't figure it out..."

How much had Bones known? Had he seen through both of them and grown impatient with the endless runarounds? Jim suddenly wanted to ask the man a lot of questions, but McCoy was as good as on the other side of the Klingon Empire right now; wholly unreachable except on his own terms.

*Maybe he saw more than we knew...* Jim leaned his chin in his hand and brooded into the dark distance where his wall ought to be. *He joined space because of a relationship gone bad; broken heart. Like a scene from a bad vid. And speaking of bad, what would anyone think of me? This wouldn't be a believeable plot, would it? The Great James T. Kirk, the man who faces aliens, enemies and even gods, can't face what's inside him. That's where he does all his running.*

Without thinking, he sipped his coffee. Without thinking, he swallowed. McCoy would have been a good foil for this...Jim was realizing that his denial of his own emotions had betrayed Spock to the core. After years of being a good example of humanity, he wasn't supposed to look Spock dead in the eye and lie about what they both knew was the truth. Denial had been Spock's ticket, for years. Learning how to be honest with himself had been long and hard. And how had Jim rewarded that struggle?

Badly.

*I'm more afraid of myself...than I am of any Vian or omnipresent being. Not good for my reputation, is it? And what does that make Spock? "Kirk's Shadow" the Klingons call him. I used to wonder if it hurt him to be called that. And I never asked. He probably would deny it bothered him...*

Spock...

Jim got to his feet, drink left behind. He still wasn't thinking too deeply about what he had to do. If he did his nerve truly would falter. Overthinking killed a soldier. Starfleet had taught that lesson over and over again.

Holding his breath, he went to the comm on his desk.

~end of Marcy part~

Sarek would know how to reach him, he would start there.

But before opening the link to Spock that he had intended he called up his own logs, and started reading.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Jim sat up with a start. "Pavel! What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted.

"I told you, in the corridor. After what happened today, I wanted to do this. I've wanted to do this for a very long time."

"Pave," Jim's voice softened, "you don't know what you're saying. It's the liquor talking. Seems there's a lot of that going on tonight. What you need is to go back to your cabin and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow things will look a lot better."

"Nyet! No...please...please don't make me go back there! I don't want to be alone, not tonight! Every time I close my eyes, I see..."

Jim felt the shiver that ran through Chekov's body. Today, this officer, one of the finest, bravest in the fleet, had stared death in the face. The brash confidence he had long associated with Pavel had been replaced with a vulnerability that Jim had never seen from him before. Playing the roll of comforter was not one that Jim usually felt at ease with, but he knew that tonight, this man needed that from him. Perhaps tonight, he realized, they needed that from each other.

"Keptin?.........Jim?" Pavel whispered in the darkness. Jim knew he was waiting on an answer. Would he be allowed to stay? Or would his captain send him back to the lonely darkness of his cabin to face his demons alone? No, there would be no more demons torturing this man tonight, Jim decided.

Lying back down, he wrapped his arm around Pavel's shoulder and pulled him to his chest. "Shhh..." he soothed. "You can stay here, Pave. Whatever it is, we'll face it together, okay?"

Chekov laid his head snuggly on Jim's chest and wrapped his arms around his captain's waist in a grip that Jim could have only described as one of desperation. Almost absentmindedly, Jim began to smooth back the hair that spilled onto his shoulder and began to softly comb his fingers through the soft, thick mane.

The arms around him began to relax and he felt a hand move from around his waist to his chest, then to his one exposed nipple. Slowly, Pavel began to trace the sensitive nub with his fingertip and gently roll it between his finger and thumb. Jim felt his body begin to respond to the sensual touch.

Jim began to explore further with his hand, tracing the outline of the small, round ear, the back of the neck and across Pavel's shoulder. Scraping gently with his fingernails, he followed the path of the young officer's spine from his neck to his waist and felt Pavel press against him with growing arousal. When Pavel turned his head and captured the, now hard, nipple that had been lying beneath his cheek, Jim felt the knot of desire within his gut explode. Good sense told him this shouldn't be happening, but good sense had seemed to take its leave of the ship this evening.

But even in the haze of passion that threatened to overtake him, he knew he had to be sure this was what Pavel wanted. With all the resistance he could muster, he reached for Pavel's head and pulled it up. In the darkness he could make out the glistening of the dark brown eyes. "Pavel, are you sure about this?" he asked.

"Jim," Pavel whispered, "I'm not so drunk as you think. I'm sure. Just as sure as I know that tomorrow we will go back to like it was before this accident. And that's what I want. For everything to be like it was. But not tonight. Tonight, I want this. But, do you want me to stop?"

Jim swallowed, hard. Whatever the consequences of this night, he knew this is what he wanted too. "No," he breathed, as he pulled Pavel's mouth to his. The taste of the sweet, young mouth against his, lightly flavored with the fiery taste of the Vodka that Pavel had consumed earlier, tore away the last of his resistance.

The fingers that had been taunting his nipple found their way down his body and captured his erection. His own hand enjoyed the discoveries of Pavel's body as it slid down the hard, muscular form until he was caressing the length of his navigator's rock-hard, seeping cock.

Through the night, they discovered the taste and feel of each other as they explored and touched and fucked and sucked their way to the early hours of the morning. All needs and desires were satisfied when sleep finally claimed them, still wrapped tightly together within each other's arms. And it was Pavel freeing himself from the confines of his arms that awakened Jim. "Morning," Jim smiled at the man sitting up next to him.

"Da. It is a good morning," Pavel smiled back.

"What time is it?" Jim yawned.

"You can sleep for a while, yet. It's early. Oh-five hundred," Pavel answered as he moved to cross Jim to get to the open side of the bed.

"You're leaving?" Jim asked, suddenly quite awake and not willing to let him go, not yet.

"It's time, Keptin. If I do not leave now, the corridors will be crowded and everyone will know I spent the night here."

So, Jim noted, it was back to 'Captain.' Pavel was right, of course. The fewer people who knew about this night, the better. But he couldn't help, just once more, brushing the dark hair away from the youthful face and wishing, for this moment, that their time together wasn't through. "And if I asked you to stay?"

"Then, I would stay. But then Starfleet would find out and I would be transferred off of the Enterprise."

"And things could never be as it was before, could they? Can it be as it was, Pavel? After last night? Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, Jim. I will be fine, now. But, thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me stay. For making me feel like you would let me stay longer. Can I tell you one thing before I go back to being just your navigator?"

"Pavel, you have never been *just* a navigator to me, you never will."

Chekov smiled.

"Go ahead, what would you like to say?" Jim asked.

"I found out yesterday just how quickly we can lose everything. It made me see how important it is to take those chances that we want, but are afraid of. I've watched you with Mr. Spock, we all have. Take the chance."

Jim opened his mouth to respond, but there were no words that would come out. Was he really that obvious? Before he could say anything more, Pavel was dressed and gone.

The day was a busy one and since the science team was addressing the problems that had occurred the day before, Jim saw little of Spock. For the most part, the crew seemed over the trauma that they had suffered less than twenty-four hours before and everything was running remarkably smoothly. Pavel had reported to the bridge on time and was his usual, smiling self. When the tractor beam failed to retrieve all the wreckage, it was decided to use the extendable crane to capture the last of the shuttle remnants and bring them into the bay. When Pavel proudly announced to a groaning bridge team that the crane was a Russian invention, Jim knew everything was as it had been before. Only once during the shift did their eyes meet and a soft smile pass between them.

At the end of the day, when the ship had quieted down to the soft muted hum that was so familiar during the mid-gamma shift, Jim began his usual circuit around the saucer. But tonight he would not make even one full rotation before he found himself at Spock's door.

Signaling his presence, he stepped inside when the door slid open. Seeing Spock standing there had the usual reaction, as if his breath was being pulled from him. He knew that there was one person he had encountered who he loved, and that man was standing before him.

Some small talk was exchanged between them regarding the accomplishments of the day. When it seemed there was nothing else to say, Jim turned to leave, but turned back. Pavel's words had rung heavy in his ears all day. Steeling his courage, he started, "Spock, someone recently made me see how quickly things can change. I may be taking a big chance here, but there is something I need to tell you....about the...feelings I have for you." One more deep breath, and he said, "You see, Spock, it seems I love you."

The few steps between them were quickly covered; Jim wasn't certain who had made the first move. But he found himself encased within strong, warm arms. A deep, rasping voice, thick with emotion, purred into his ear, "It's a chance I've been hoping you could take, Jim. Yes, for a very long time I have wished for you to take such a chance."

~end of T'Thrill part~

~The End~

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TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Sarek would know how to reach him, he would start there. He wouldn't stop until he could take Spock's face between his hands and tell him those things that he should have said then. Even if Spock rejected him, he would finally have the kind of peace that only comes with truth.

Peace...something he hadn't known since those last days on the Enterprise. There were times when his duties as head of fleet operations consumed his waking hours, and for those brief respites he could forget about the dark eyes, filed with pain, that stared at him that day. But then night would fall, exhaustion and fatigue would drive him to bed for a few hours of rest, rest that was rarely achieved because the nightmares would begin all over again.

There was an ember of excitement that seemed to ignite within his chest as he sat down at the desk. It was a strange, yet familiar, feeling that had not been there for a long, long time. It was only a spark, but it was a spark that reminded him what it had felt like to be alive. He realized that the time spent at Starfleet headquarters hadn't been living, just merely existing.

There was no turning back now. His decision was made. He would need to notify Nogura that he was taking a leave of absence. He wouldn't be able to tell him how long. As long as it took, was the best answer he would have. Spock may still be on Vulcan, but wherever he was, even if he had to follow his trail through the Antaries nebula, it didn't matter. He *would* find him.

He commed the communications center. "This is Admiral James Kirk. I need to be linked with the Vulcan Embassy in S'hi'kar. I want to speak directly with Ambassador Sarek."

"That will take a few minutes, Admiral," came the reply.

"Signal me when you have it setup. I'll be here."

"Yes, sir."

Jim stood up and paced nervously around the room. The spark within him had grown into a full-fledged flame of anticipation and desire. What was he going to tell Sarek? Did the Ambassador know what had happened between them? If so, would Sarek tell him where Spock was? If Spock is still on Vulcan, he knew a transport could get him there in three days, but was there a way to get there faster? The Enterprise was due for test runs after the refit, but that was still weeks away and there were no other starships in the quadrant. And even if there were, Nogura would probably be less than willing to allow him confiscate one for the purpose of chasing down a potential lover. Nogura could be mighty narrow-minded that way. Jim chuckled to himself and realized it was the first time he had laughed since, well, he couldn't remember when.

Soon, he hoped, he would laugh often. Spock had to forgive him. Had to let him hold him like he wanted to then, when he allowed his own fears to stop him. Oh...what an indulgence in ecstasy it would be to hold that sweet Vulcan close and feel that delicious warmth penetrate and fill him. He would claim that mouth, over and over, and feel the hot breath as it beat against him, trailing a path of discovery down his body. Jim knew that this time there would be no hesitation, he would say all the things that Spock longed to hear, whisper all that he felt into the delicate, pointed ear.

He stood at the window and stared out over the ocean, but was seeing much further beyond. His arms crossed, his hands gripping his biceps, he was lost in the fantasy of being held by, and holding, the one he loved. His own shiver brought him back to reality. "I'm not running anymore, Spock. I'm coming to you. Wait for me," he whispered to the reflection in the glass.

He jumped when the comm unit beeped. He dashed back to the desk and sat down. With one deep breath to steady his newfound emotions, he keyed the comm pad.

But instead of the communications officer, there was the face of Admiral Nogura.

"Admiral Kirk, we have received an emergency message from Starbase 12. There is a situation arising on the outer rim. I'm calling in all senior personnel....Just a moment...Kirk, word has been received that one of our outposts has been destroyed."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes, Admiral," Jim stated.

He called for a hovercraft and slid into his uniform. The fire that had warmed him from within had once again grown cold.

~end of T'Thrill part~

The call from Sarek was put through to Kirk while he was being driven to Starfleet Headquarters.

The call came in just when Kirk had entered the elevator to go up to the meeting floor.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


A startled Uhura met his gaze.

"Good evening, Captain," she finally got out.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," he replied.

"I just...hmm..."

"You don't have to account for anything, Lieutenant," Kirk stated firmly, although inwardly he was dying for a simple explanation.

Spock appeared next to Uhura, wearing off-duty clothes which consisted of long black pants and his brownish robe which looked like velvet - although Kirk never had had the heart to actually touch it.

"The Lieutenant couldn't sleep, as most of the crew today," he said, eying Kirk who was fully aware that his own tiredness was showing. "We decided to practice on the concerto no.3 of S`hetask for our next performance."

Kirk nodded. "I see."

The following silence was short and painful, and finally broken by Uhura who stepped out of the door and turned around to face both men. "I will go to bed now. Thank you, Mr. Spock, I feel much more relaxed now. Good night to you. Good night, Captain." She inclined her head and went away, obviously glad to escape the slightly embarrassing situation.

"Did you wish to contact me, Captain?" Spock addressed himself at Kirk, who had been looking after Uhura and was now caught off-balance by the Vulcan.

"No... no... I was just passing along on my way to my cabin, when Uhura came out..." Kirk knew that Spock knew he was lying, but that didn't matter. Spock would simply accept his explanation under the codex of privacy, like he always did. At least he didn't have to tell him the truth...

Kirk was just turning away from Spock when the Vulcan raised a hand, almost touching his arm.

"What about a game of chess, Jim?" Spock's voice was dark and silky, and somehow inviting...

~end of Acidqueen part~

Or, maybe it was no different from how he always perceived that voice when it spoke his name.

But no matter how inviting the voice, Kirk could not bring himself to accept the invitation.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"What the….?" Jim gasped as strong arms pushed him down onto his back and a naked body rose up to straddle him.

Insistent lips covered his own, taking advantage of the captain's surprise to invade his mouth with deep, soul-searching kisses. Pavel pulled the sheet tightly around them, forming something like a cocoon that effectively blocked Jim from pushing the amorous Russian away.

For a moment, Jim just laid there, the monster headache that had been a mere threat before now pounding mercilessly with every beat of his heart. His mind warred with himself.

~~This is not right! This is not proper behavior! I'm his captain, for Christ's sake! He's in my direct chain of command! The code of conduct states… !~~

But his body was saying another thing altogether as he felt himself responding to the heat that Pavel was generating as the supple body rubbed seductively against his thighs, groin, and torso. The Russian reached down to stroke him and Jim's erection bloomed with the added attention. This only seemed to prod the younger man on even more.

About the time Jim was starting to feel his head was about to explode from the combination of headache and lack of oxygen, Pavel finally broke off the kiss. The Russian began tracking passionate kisses down Jim's chin and over his throat, all the while murmuring, "I hev always…" (kiss) "….wanted…" (kiss) "…to do this..." (kiss) "…Keptain."

"S…so you say, Pavel," Jim gasped as the Russian's lips made contact with his nipple. Jim thrust his hips up into his navigator's hand as it continued to pump his cock. His body seemingly detached from his mind and any form of common sense whatsoever, the captain found his hands snaking between the now loosened sheet and the smooth body above him. He caressed the ensign's back and then ran his fingertips through the young man's dark, silky hair, getting lost in the sensations as those wonderful lips traced kisses lower and lower down his body.

His mind raced, wondering what the hell was going on with the people on his ship. Although many of the crew seemed out of sorts earlier, unable to let go of the tension surrounding their collective near-death experience, things didn't seem totally out of the ordinary until Pavel kissed him in the corridor. After that, the signs became more disturbing. He found McCoy and Spock slopping down drunk. Perhaps that wasn't totally out of character for Bones when he was off-duty and another doctor was left in charge, but Spock? And then he found the Russian in bed with him. Pavel seemed to be one of the first affected and he'd been one of the shuttle pilots. The young man had been right in the middle of the danger, alone in his craft. Facing death--totally alone. Was this just a need to release some stress? Or was it something more ominous? Could it be some kind of space sickness? A virus? Something caused by the plasma pulse? Jim's headache began shortly after the ensign got him in a lip-lock in the corridor, the buzzing in his head getting progressively worse from there.

Although Jim thought he could be on to something--thought he should contact the bridge or someone about the possible dangers to his ship--all speculation and logical thought immediately left him when the young man's mouth licked around the head of his erection.

Feeling by now totally drunk with lust and need, Jim groaned as his hips thrust up and down in wild abandon to the ensign's ministrations on his cock and balls. Gods…the kid had a wonderful, talented mouth. And his fingers! Gods! Right there! Oh god! If this were madness, he'd go willingly into the depths.

"I hev always…" (slurp) "…wanted…" (slurp) "…to taste you…" (slurp) "… Keptain."

The ensign totally enveloped the erection and the intensity of the sensations that flowed through Jim almost caused the captain to cum. The Russian seemed to sense this and slowed his movements, pressing down on Jim's hips to still his thrusts and allow his captain's body to compensate for the mounting stimulation until he was ready to continue.

"Oh god. Oh, Pavel," Jim moaned after the tide was driven back for the moment and the ensign began sucking him in earnest again. Knowing he was lost, knowing he wanted this with someone else, Jim tried to force his hands to push the younger man off, to put a stop to this before it was too late. But he couldn't. This felt too good to stop. As he gently caressed the back of his navigator's neck, he was suddenly reminded of the old songs that his brother, Sam, used to listen to as they were growing up on the farm in Iowa. His brother loved the recordings found in the archives from late twentieth-century Earth. Sam used to play them all the time--at ear-splitting volumes--much to the consternation of their mother. But two lines from one of Sam's favorite songs suddenly came to mind. "When you can't be with the one you love…love the one you're with."

Love the one you're with. Love the one you're with. Jim's body certainly had taken up that siren song. He felt his hips thrusting up to meet Pavel's movements above him, fucking the young man's mouth until he was ready to explode.

"I…I'm going to…oh, Pavel," Jim panted before he thrust up one final time and, with an agonized groan, erupted.

Moments later, his mind began to clear, feeling sated and content in a post-coital haze. He realized that his headache, which had pounded mercilessly just moments before, was completely gone. What was left was a fuzzy, drunken happiness that made him chuckle to himself.

He looked down at Pavel, who was cleaning his captain's groin most efficiently with his mouth and tongue. Jim reached down and gathered the youthful body up against his chest. He rolled them over, laughing, as he pinned the younger man beneath him. Looking into his navigator's face, reading the raw lust that still simmered in those dark eyes, Jim felt his cock jump.

Leaning down, Jim captured the Russian's mouth, much like the younger man had done to him just moments before. Tongues warring with each other, Pavel finally relented and allowed Jim inside to do a little probing of his own.

The rest of the night moved in slow motion for Jim. First he fucked Pavel hard on the bunk. Then he bent the ensign over the foot of his bunk and fucked him again. Then they ended up on the floor, Jim sucking the Russian off until the young man started talking incoherently in his native language. They made love up against the bulkhead and on top of Jim's desk. Jim taught Pavel some of his favorite moves and positions, while the captain learned a few things himself from the lusty Russian. They were like an unstoppable fucking machine, seemingly lacking the need for rest or sustenance in between their lovemaking to recharge themselves.

Towards morning, Pavel coerced Jim into taking a shower with him, the young man stating over and over that he had always wanted to do that. Jim was finding he enjoyed discovering what Pavel had always wanted to do with him. It had certainly been an enlightening night, one Jim wasn't likely to forget.

As if reading his captain's thoughts and desires, the Russian punched in the settings for a water shower. Jim nodded his approval. This was definitely not the time to take a sonic shower--only real water would do.

Although the need was still burning within him as he stepped into the shower, Jim decided to try slowing things down. He took a few moments to enjoy the simple task of lathering his navigator's dark hair with shampoo. For his part, Pavel wasn't listening to the subtle message, rubbing his backside up against Jim's groin. It didn't take long for the captain to forget his plan. He clamped his lover's hands into the handgrips that were recessed into the wall of the shower. After pouring body oil from the mounted dispenser into his hands, Jim prepared himself and then his companion--although Pavel seemed more than ready for penetration on a larger scale than his mere fingers. Answering the siren song again, Jim centered his cock and entered in one fluid motion. Their mutual need was so strong, so raw, that they started undulating wildly against each other as soon as they were joined, both building the sensations to higher and higher levels of passion.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Jim noticed a figure framed in the entrance to his bathroom. As he continued to thrust madly into the willing body in front of him and pumped the Russian's cock in rhythm, Jim squinted to make out the features through the steamy haze of the clear shower wall. The figure seemed frozen in the doorway. Trapped in the wanton needs of his own body, the captain couldn't stop his thrusts to investigate further. An agonized groan escaped his lips as he felt himself getting close. Forgetting their intruder for the moment, he closed his eyes, enjoying the soft, passionate moans of his lover. It was one of the things Jim had discovered that night; Pavel made the most delightful sounds when he was about to cum.

With a low growl, Jim thrust deep inside the ensign's body and erupted in a bone-rattling, mind-blowing climax. He stood there for a long time, taking in all of the input that was registering in a mad rush within his body. It was almost like he had never felt this alive before. Truly alive! And he was astonished at how wonderful it was. He marveled at the feel of his partner's body as he pressed the lithe figure up against the shower wall. He relished the feel of his cock as it pulsated inside the hot channel. He felt amazed at the sticky warmth of the fluid that flowed into and between his fingers as the Russian was pulled over the edge with him moments later.

Jim pressed his cheek against the Russian's neck and closed his eyes, his mind going muzzy in sated bliss. It was truly a blessing to be here, to be alive--to feel such life. It was a precious gift, a gift to be shared and lived to its full expression.

They stood there, motionless, for a long moment, the heated water of the shower hammering into their bodies. Slowly coming back to some level of reality, Jim opened his eyes. Remembering their intruder, Jim let out a gasp and turned towards the doorway to his bathroom. The figure still stood there, as if transfixed.

Jim gently withdrew from the body in front of him and placed a soft kiss on Pavel's shoulder. "We have company," he whispered, suddenly feeling protective of the young man who had shared such an amazing night with him.

Pavel didn't reply, but as Jim pulled away, the ensign slowly sank to the floor of the shower. Before Jim realized what was happening, the Russian had curled up into a fetal ball, holding his head and moaning as if in pain.

Jim knelt down, concern for his navigator overruling his desire to rush out to discover the identity of their intruder.

"Pavel? Pavel...what's wrong?"

"Hurts…head hurts," was all the ensign said. Then he began trashing about as if suddenly caught in a painful convulsion.

Jim pinned the Russian down onto his back. The stricken man started to choke, as if drowning from the water that was streaming down over them both. Jim tried to shield his companion with his body, diverting the water away from Pavel's face as best he could.

After a long moment, the Russian seemed to still in his arms. With his eyes still closed tightly, the young man stammered, "S…sair?"

"Pavel…talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I…I….," Pavel gasped, opening his eyes slowly and looking up at Jim, blinking as if awaking from a dream. He reached up to Jim's face, caressed it, and then trailed his fingers down the captain's bare chest. "I always wanted this," he said with childlike wonder. "Always…wanted you. But…but can this…be real? Are you real, sair?"

The Russian's face transformed from an expression of wonder to one of horror. With a sharp cry, he wrapped his arms around the captain's waist and buried his face in Jim's chest.

"Oh, sair! I…I was in the shuttle. I was…I was about to die," the young man stammered.

Jim held the young man firmly against his chest and rocked back on his heels, cradling the man in his strong embrace. "I know. It's okay. You're alive. You got out alive...so did everyone else," he soothed. His only thought at the moment was to reassure the ensign that he was safe, that this was indeed real, and they had shared something life-affirming that night. Whatever the repercussions to their careers and their personal relationship, Jim wasn't about to short-change Pavel and hide his affection for the young Russian--not after what they had just shared.

Jim tried to reach up with one hand to turn off the water to the shower. However, before he could do so, he heard the shower door open and the water suddenly turned off.

Jim looked up and gasped.

"Spock! What are you doing…?"

The tall Vulcan looked down at him. With an uncharacteristic gleam in his eyes, the first officer replied, "I could ask you the same question, Captain."

~end of MizzMarcee part~

For a moment Jim blushed in shame - then anger took over.

Kirk didn't know what to say, as Spock loomed over them.



TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Or, maybe it was no different from how he always perceived that voice when it spoke his name. So intimate, almost as if his skin was being caressed by those rich tones. How could it be that his navigator could kiss him in the middle of the corridor and he felt only surprise, but let this man voice one simple word, "Jim," and it took nothing more than that for the heat to begin rising from deep within him? The question was a redundant one; he knew the answer. It was because what he felt for Spock was ingrained into the very core of his soul.

As Jim pondered this, Spock still watched him. And when an answer was not forthcoming, an eyebrow, the right one, gently rose in question. Jim couldn't help but smile. It was always the right one that rose in question. It was the left one which Spock elevated in disapproval and both would disappear into the dark, silky hairline, often accompanied by the term, "Fascinating," when this beautiful man found himself concealing his amazement. Jim wondered if Spock was aware of this, or if he realize how carefully he had been under his captain's scrutiny these last years.

"You sure it's not too late?" Jim asked.

"No, it is not," Spock replied in what Jim swore was a half purr.

Jim followed him into the warm cabin and, as he had done so many times before, turned the chairs around so the small table was positioned between them. Spock retrieved the multilevel chess set, already prepared with all but two of the pieces in their starting position, and placed it carefully upon the table before straightening to face him. Jim knew the two remaining pieces, one ivory and the other a deep umber, were concealed in Spock's closed hands.

"Left," Jim stated, and Spock opened his left hand to reveal the ivory piece before placing both on the board in their correct position. Jim seated himself beside the table where the ivory-colored soldiers stood, ready for battle, and made the first move.

Strategies were challenged and the tactical prowess of each man shown as warrior after warrior was captured. Although Spock's game seemed at its peek this evening, Jim knew his was less than exemplary. His concentration was quite compromised as he watched those long, slender fingers as they maneuvered the dark army, then, after each move, returned to their steepled position. How Jim longed to have those fingers maneuver his body.

They both sat at an angle to the board, their legs stretched out before them. It was how they usually sat when in one or the other's cabin. More relaxed than either could be while on duty, or even in one of the rec rooms. And, it allowed Jim to study the length of the man seated beside him. He loved watching the movement of the long lines and the sharp angles, and the ripple of muscle that occurred beneath the soft brown material as Spock reached out to make each play on the board.

Jim's concentration on the game was further interrupted when Spock stated, "Your game is off. You seem preoccupied this evening."

In an attempt to cover his present train of thought, he answered, "It's the accident today. It seems to have affected the crew quite strongly, especially Mr. Chekov."

"In what way?"

"He's just not himself this evening. I ran into him and Sulu in the corridor. Pavel had been drinking, and quite a bit, it seemed." Jim looked up to the face across from him. Spock worked closely with Pavel; maybe he could shed some light on the actions from his navigator. "Spock, he kissed me. Then he said something about how he had always wanted to do that."

Both of the Vulcan's eyebrows disappeared beneath the dark line of hair. "Indeed!" he commented, his surprise undisguised.

"Do you have any idea why he would do that? I mean, you've worked closely with him. Is there anything I need to know about?"

"Jim, I am aware that the ensign holds you in high esteem. I am, however, unaware of any desire he has for a physical relationship. Perhaps it is the events of the day and the consumption of alcoholic beverage that caused him to react in such a manner. It has been my observation that human emotions are quite amplified in times of extreme stress and is often exacerbated by the consumption of intoxicants. And, as one of the shuttle pilots today, his stress is understandable." Spock moved a chess piece and Jim noticed the obvious mistake. Perhaps Spock's game was not quite as good tonight as he had thought. Jim captured the invading player.

"Maybe you're right," Jim replied.

The game continued in silence until, several minutes later, Spock asked, "Did you find it enjoyable?"

The question took Jim by surprise. Had Spock been concentrating on his navigator kissing him instead of the game? Maybe the reason the Vulcan's game suddenly took a turn for the worse was that he was disturbed by this. Well, Jim thought, one could hope. "Pavel? Kissing me?"

Spock nodded, slightly.

"Well, I wouldn't say it was unpleasant by any means," he teased. But then more seriously, he added, "I think it shocked more than anything. It's not that I have anything against kissing, but my navigator isn't the one who'd be my..." Jim stopped. He was saying too much and he knew it.

Nothing more was said between them for a while until Spock asked, "Why?"

Jim looked up from the playing surface to meet the dark eyes. "Why? Spock?"

"Why were you outside my door this evening? You do not have to pass my door on the way to your cabin, Jim."

Jim looked back at the playing table, unwilling or unable to answer, he wasn't sure which. He moved his bishop diagonally to where it came to rest in front of Spock's knight and removed his hand. In an almost immediate move, Spock moved his rook up and captured the bishop. "Check," he stated, as Jim witnessed the error in his judgment as it played out before him.

Jim looked back at his opponent and there was the questioning right eyebrow angled upward. Spock was still waiting on an answer. Jim knew the answer, but knew the courage he had found as he made his way to the cabin had left him.

Instead of placing the ivory-colored bishop to the side with the rest of the captured pieces, Spock held it in the tips of his fingers, rolling it slightly, his thumb caressing across the rounded top. The shape of the piece was undeniably very nearly a phallic symbol with a long, straight rod protruding up from the base, and ending in a distinctive, round, smooth cap.

The sight of Spock's administrations to the object undid Jim. He felt his body spring to life with arousal, and he was sure his reaction did not go unnoticed as the dark eyes, now even more black than usual, moved down his body and back up.

Spock stood up and, straddling Jim's legs, placed his hands on the armrests on either side of Jim's chair. Leaning down, he said in a deep, rasping voice that was only a breath above a whisper, "I'm still waiting on an answer, Jim. Why did you come to my cabin this evening?"

Jim reached up and placed his hand at the back of Spock's neck. Gently, he pulled the head toward him until their lips joined. Jim felt himself falling into this kiss as the warm lips parted against his. The taste he had longed for filled his senses.

He found himself being pulled to his feet and pressed tightly against Spock's body, his own hardness met with the hot, steely hardness of the man who, before this night was over, would be his lover.

His hands caressed the body beneath the ultra-soft material and as the uniform tunic was being removed from him, he untied the belt of Spock's robe and slid it from the broad shoulders. For the first time, bare-chested, flesh to flesh, they pressed against each other. Breaths were taken in quick, short gasps as kisses changed to nibbles against exposed skin wherever lips could reach. Gasps were replaced by soft moans as hands discovered areas that aroused and enflamed. Moving closer to the bed, all remaining clothing was systematically stripped away as more and more flesh became exposed until each were standing naked against the other.

Then they were no longer standing, but lying on the bed where they were rolling and thrashing and pumping, their bodies dueling against the other. Hard cock was rubbing against hard cock, searching, seeking those positions that would give them each maximum pleasure. Moans were replaced by deep, guttural roars as wave after wave claimed them. Streams of hot ejaculate spread within and between them. Beads of sweat poured from them as years of need and longing were fulfilled time and time again.

In the early morning hours, when Jim found speech was once again possible, he whispered into the damp, warm neck, "Because I've always wanted to do this."

~end of T'Thrill part~

"Hmmmmmm?" was Spock's lazy reply.

"And now that you have?" Spock asked, coolly.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Kirk took a took a step away from the door as two forms locked together in a kiss stumbled backwards out the door. The Captain instinctively moved sideways in order to avoid the couple. Kirk watched as the taller form, the one who had been walking forward pulled his mouth away from the other man's. "That's enough, Ensign." he said gently, pushing the blond figure away from him. Kirk dimly recognized Ensign Patrick Calleum, a promising science officer. He recalled some betting on who would be the first crew member to sleep with undeniably beautiful ensign.

The ensign who'd been kissing Spock. That thought struck Kirk still, as silent as if his blood was as ice cold as it felt. The ensign who'd been kissing Spock. Kissing Spock. Touching Spock.

The other two men in the hallway paid no attention to the Captain; as little as if he were not there at all. Calleum raised a slim hand and gently trace the arch of Spock's left eyebrow. Spock pulled the hand away after tolerating the caress for a moment. The Ensign held tight to the hand, pulling it to his mouth to kiss it, holding Spock's eyes. Spock arched an eyebrow at the young man pulling his hand away. "You are intoxicated, Mr. Calleum. Due to the events of today, I will consider it a result of human inability to tolerate the stress. I recommend you stop by sickbay and request medication to counter the nausea and headache you will doubtlessly have tomorrow as a result of your overindulgence. As for this encounter I will consider it a private matter between the two of us and will go no further. I do not want you to find it difficult to work with me as I value your work in the Science Department."

Calleum traced the curve of Spock's ear. Without change in expression Spock pulled the hand away much as he had pulled away the hand tracing his eyebrow, though without allowing Calleum to capture removing hand. "Mr. Calleum, it is time to return to your quarters."

"I would rather return to yours." Calleum stated huskily.

"That is not an option."

With a sigh, Calleum leaned up to lightly touched his lips to Spock's once more. "You'd give this up? For him? Does the Captain even know how much you love him?"

"I rather doubt it." Spock said dryly, absently. He grasped the ensign's shoulders and bodily turned him toward his quarters, which lay in the same direction as Kirk was standing, bringing him face to shocked face with the captain.

~end of Mecca part~

Calleum was the first to find his voice again.

"Mr Calleum," Spock repeated, "it is time to return to your quarters."




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


The call from Sarek was put through to Kirk while he was being driven to Starfleet Headquarters. For a moment he debated whether to take it, his romantic dream of chasing Spock half way across the galaxy had fled in the face of Nogura's news. Deciding that at least Sarek could give him news on Spock's whereabouts he opened the channel.

"Greetings, Ambassador." He raised his hand in the Vulcan formal greeting and the Ambassador returned his gesture.

"Admiral Kirk."

"Thank you for returning my call Ambassador. I wanted to contact Spock, could you please provide me with his location? I believe he is on Vulcan somewhere?"

If a Vulcan's face could be said to reflect surprise then Sarek's did at that question. He raised one sedate eyebrow.

"Spock had been studying at Gol since his departure from Starfleet. However, he is no longer on Vulcan, Admiral. I was informed that he had departed for Earth 28.65 days ago. I had presumed that he would have made contact with you upon his arrival."

Kirk was surprised at the shaft of anger he felt, Spock had been on Earth for three weeks and hadn't contacted him? Aware that Sarek was waiting for a response he held his features in a non committal expression and answered calmly.

"No, I haven't heard from him Ambassador. Do you know what his plans were?"

"Spock has rarely informed either his mother or myself of his plans Admiral. If you should hear from him, please ask him to contact his mother. She does become 'concerned' at these times."

Kirk felt the hovercraft settling to the ground and knew that they had arrived. With his thoughts in turmoil he hurriedly said goodbye to Sarek and exited the vehicle. The early morning air was cold and sapped away the last of his earlier excitement at having made plans to find Spock. The truth was that his friend had no interest in contacting him, had made no attempt to do so even when the opportunity had presented itself. Spock had obviously moved on with his life. It was time that he did the same.

Dismissing his tangled emotions from his mind he focused on the current situation. Nogura's message had been very grave, an entire outpost had been destroyed. How? As he strode into the main building he noticed the unusually high level of activity for this hour of the morning. There was a steady trickle of officers reporting for duty and he returned their murmured greetings with a nod. One of Nogura's aides was waiting for him, and escorted him through security up to the Admiral's office on the topmost floor of the building.

The older Admiral greeted his protégé with a solemn handshake.

"Jim, thanks for coming so quickly."

"What's the latest Admiral, has there been any further contact with Starbase 12? Do we know what happened to the outpost? Which one was it?" He rasped the questions out in his best command manner.

"There's been a visual message, but I want to wait to play it for you. I'm expecting..." The Admiral was interrupted by the chime of his personal intercom. He listened gravely to his aide in the outer office, and then cut the communication. "Here he is now."

The door hissed open behind Kirk and he turned to greet the new arrival.

It was Spock.

~end of Menolly part~

Kirk stood, facing the new arrival.

"Admiral Kirk," Spock nodded his head slightly in Kirk's direction, then stood and waited patiently for a response.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


For a moment Jim blushed in shame - then anger took over.

Anger at Pavel, for throwing himself at him, anger at himself, for giving in to the navigator, and anger at Spock for coming in just in this very moment...

Then anger got mixed with despair as he realized that he had probably spoiled what little chances Spock and he would have had for just one night with Pavel...

His impulse to throw Pavel away for Spock within the blink of an eye instantly gave Jim a bad conscience, and in the turmoil of his emotions his final answer shot out of his mouth like a bullet.

"We are in my cabin. And if you still don't know what we were doing here after all your peeping, you should study Humanity 101 once again!" he said. 'Oh my god,' Jim thought. 'Did I say this?'

Spock's face turned to stone.

He *had* said it.

"Very well, Captain," Spock replied icily and retreated straightaway. The shower door closed behind him with a bang of deafening quality.

'Oh my god, I fucked it all up,' Jim thought, and the sunken Pavel was forgotten as he jumped up and out of the shower, grabbing Spock's upper arm just before the Vulcan could leave the cabin.

"Oh Spock," he muttered shaking. "I'm sorry - "

Spock spun around and pushed Jim's arm aside with one single painful stroke, and there was no mistake - Spock was really angry now, too. Dark eyes sparkled, and his lips were tightly pressed together, an unusual hectic flush of green coloring his cheek bones.

"Do - not - touch - me!" the Vulcan hissed through clenched teeth.

Jim's eyes narrowed to small slits.

"Why not?" he replied challenging, placing his hand around the Vulcan's arm again and pulling their bodies near to each other.

"Don't you like it?" he asked in a husky voice, all too aware of the imminent danger.

"How dare you..." Spock's voice was barely audible, his blazing eyes only inches away from Jim's.

And then Jim kissed Spock with about as much cogitation as for his first sentence, thus delivering the kiss rather like an assault than like the tender touch of a lover...

When he drew away, the slap in his face made him fly through half his cabin and into the corner near his bunk, where he landed on one of the spoiled sweaty sheets they had disposed of earlier. His mind whirled in colors for some seconds, and when he could look for the Vulcan again, he found Spock was gone.

~end of Acidqueen part~


Jim knew with absolute certainly that Spock was completely gone.

"Hold STILL, dammit."

Jim staggered to his feet.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


The walls of the bungalow were suddenly closing in on him, he had to get out. He made his way to the beach, where the gently crashing waves and star-spangled sky would help to ease his anxiety.

Following the well-worn path to the isolated cove he had discovered his first night in the bungalow, he realized that he had spent a portion of every night here, for one reason or another. It had become his sanctuary ... his refuge ... his escape. He could not help but think that this refuge would not be necessary if he had made different choices ... if he had not allowed his fears to consume him.

On the Enterprise, fear had never ruled his actions ... never crippled him when it came to life and death decisions. But when it came to personal matters such as love and commitment, he always seemed to let fear have the upper hand. In his youth, there had been Ruth, then Carol, then Gary ... countless others over the years. He had always had a reason for pulling away when things got too serious.

He didn't even want to think about all the missed opportunities ... yet when everything he ever wanted had been offered to him, he pushed it away once again.

How could he have treated Spock that way, when every fiber of his being ached to be with him? Their last moment together continuously replayed itself in his mind, forcing him to make a decision.

Returning quickly to the bungalow, he punched in the code to Spock's home on Vulcan. As he waited for the connection to be made, he composed his thoughts, and hoped that Spock would allow him to say everything he needed to say.

But when the connection was finally made, it was Sarek, not Spock who appeared onscreen. A brief conversation revealed that Spock had gone to study at Gol, and fear once again consumed him ... for it might be too late to tell Spock his true feelings.

~end of T'Lin part~


As if on autopilot, Kirk ran to the bedroom and started throwing clothes into a travel bag.

Studies at Gol...




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


The call came in just when Kirk had entered the elevator to go up to the meeting floor. For a short moment he was torn between the again inflaming hopes and desires he had shaken off only minutes ago and his duties as Admiral, but then he made his decision.

"I will go to my office. Please put it directly through to there."

He stopped the elevator one floor below his original goal. He didn't have much time, so he sped to his office, almost hitting the door as it opened slower than he wished it to. He fell into the chair behind his desk and took a deep breath before he finally accepted the transmission.

"Greetings, Ambassador," Jim Kirk said when the face of Sarek appeared on the screen, and raised his hand in the Vulcan formal greeting, but there was no response. Instead, the Vulcan's features stood frozen, and not a hint of movement was detectable from his dark eyes down to the last crinkles of his robe.

Kirk frowned as foreboding flowed through his chest. But there was nothing to stop him now.

"Thank you for returning my call. I wanted to contact Spock, could you please provide me with his location? I believe he is on Vulcan somewhere?"

It was astonishing to see how the already frozen face could become mantled with another icy layer, and a slight nausea got its hold on Kirk. He could almost feel a cold breeze, although he sat in his well-tempered office.

"Are you alone?" Sarek's question caught him by surprise, but he nodded.

The Vulcan slowly bent forward, drawing just a fraction of an inch nearer to the screen, and suddenly the feeling of intimidation crept up Kirk's spine. It was hard for him not to retreat from the now piercing gaze of his vis-à-vis.

"When Spock took his final leave from his mother and me before his departure to Gol, I succeeded in ascertaining his motives. Probably you have not been aware that what Spock was ready to share with you is one of the highest taboos in modern Vulcan society."

Kirk flinched under this accusation. Yes, he hadn't known that till several months later, when Bones had sent him a small note about it. On Vulcan, male-male relationships were considered reminders of the warrior time, a dangerously unbalanced connection between two aggressive beings. Heterosexual relationships were the only accepted logical choice now. But would that knowledge have changed his reaction on that day in the past?

Sarek went ahead, only his overly stern facade betraying some of the deep-lying emotions.

"His commitment to you would have been a worse insult to our House than his joining of Starfleet. Expulsion would have been the logical result. He would not have been allowed on Vulcan again. He would have been considered 'not-born'. His files on Vulcan would have been deleted. No Vulcan would have talked about him again."

Sarek made a short pause, obviously to control and calm down his growing agitation on this subject.

Kirk swallowed hard. He hadn't realized that Spock had really put all his eggs in one basket - and his human captain had taken them and crashed them on the floor, trampling them into a shattered mess. He cleared his throat against the overwhelming guilt before he could answer, harsher than he wanted to.

"Well, then you should have been happy to get him back unspoiled - "

Sarek raised his hand, interrupting Kirk's speech in an - by Vulcan standards - almost outrageous way .

"He is not back - he went to Gol. He is dead to the outside world, even to his parents."

The sentence lingered between them for a second before Sarek went ahead.

"I am disappointed with him. I have been this for many years, as you well know. But his error in judgment concerning you is one I share. When I was aboard, I could sense that you held each other in more than high esteem. It was nothing I was satisfied with, but I would have accepted his choice in the end. Personal satisfaction can be considered a logical goal."

Kirk's heartbeat pounded in his ears. Was Sarek telling him he would have approved of their relationship, despite all the implied hardness for all sides, just for the sake of Spock's happiness? That was completely out of character for Sarek.

"Unfortunately, you could not admit your feelings. A typical flaw of Humans, as I tried to assure him, but as usual he did not listen to me."

Sarek leaned another fraction of an inch nearer to the screen. His voice grew darker when he said his final words.

"And today you call me because you want to talk to him? Maybe you changed your mind. Maybe you feel guilty. But your feelings are irrelevant. This harm cannot be made undone and the result has to be accepted. Kaiidth."

The Ambassador hesitated for a moment, and then leaned back slightly and raised his hand in the Vulcan formal greeting. "Live long and prosper nevertheless, James T. Kirk." The screen went blank as Sarek ended the transmission.

~end of Acidqueen part~


Kirk had one fervent wish right now: to avoid that meeting.

Kirk sat paralyzed in front of the comm screen, numb to the core.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


But no matter how inviting the voice, Kirk could not bring himself to accept the invitation. Uhura's presence stripped him of his resolve of moments before. "Sorry, Spock ... perhaps some other time. I think I've finally worn myself out enough to sleep."

"I see," Spock said. But Kirk couldn't help but notice the change in Spock's demeanor ... if he were any other person, Kirk would say he appeared disappointed. There was an uncomfortable silence between them for several heartbeats ... an interminable time in which Kirk almost changed his mind. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, Spock said, "Good night, captain. Sleep well," and then he stepped back to allow his door to close.

Kirk stood there, staring at the closed door for several moments longer. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, 'what have I done?' then walked the short distance to his own quarters.

~end of T'Lin part~


Spock stared at the closed door, puzzled.

He lay in bed, almost imagining he could hear Spock's deep, rhythmic breaths as he slept, the rhythm Kirk had committed to memory on a thousand away missions across the galaxy as the Vulcan slept deeply, almost silently had Kirk not been concentrating on the small, still sound.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"Mr Calleum," Spock repeated, "it is time to return to your quarters."

"Yes, sir," the ensign said. And he walked past Kirk, his face flaming red.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Were you looking for me, Captain?"

"Was I..." Kirk couldn't pull his thoughts into order. "Spock, what was all that about?" he asked, hoping his voice wasn't as nakedly needy as Calleum's.

"Ensign Calleum is a young man with an overactive imagination," Spock said. "And today has been stressful for the junior officers."

"Calleum was in the Science labs," Kirk snapped. "Did he break a test tube?"

"Not that I am aware." Spock's composure showed not a crack.

"He asked you..." Kirk's voice descended to a confidential, but furious growl. "...if I knew how much you..."

"He offered himself to me, sexually. He chose to misunderstand my refusal, that is all. Perhaps an imagined prior claim was less... painful... than a simple rejection. If you have any further questions about what Mister Calleum said, I think you should address them to the ensign himself. But may I say, Captain, that I am not offended or insulted by what happened here tonight. I do not believe any disciplinary reaction is called for."

"If you say so," Kirk agreed. He forced himself to smile, and summoned up his most teasing voice. "He's not the only one to cross lines this evening. I had to fight off a lovestruck ensign myself a moment ago." He fixed his eyes on Spock's face, looking for jealousy, or at least concern.

"Indeed." Spock seemed completely unsurprised. "Mr. Chekov, I presume."

Kirk decided to go for a full frontal attack. "Do you love me, Spock?"

"Captain, I am a Vulcan of the house of Surak. You are a human of no particular social rank or intellectual attainment. I am obligated consider the future of my house and line at all times. You are male. You are too old and independent to be a concubine, insufficiently attractive to enhance my own social standing by acting as a visual accessory, and since most onlookers would presume that I had not purchased your sexual submission, a liaison with you would not even serve to advertise my economic power. In short, if I were seeking a lover, it would be manifestly illogical for me to waste your time and mine by flouting Starfleet's rules and propositioning you. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes." Kirk felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "I'm glad you're not setting a bad example to your junior staff. Good night, Mr. Spock."

"Good night, Captain."

The two men turned away from each other, and Kirk let his wounded pride carry him down the corridor at a brisk pace. 'No particular social rank or intellectual attainment'. So that was what Spock thought of him. Presumably the Vulcan remained aboard the Enterprise because Kirk was some kind of lucky rabbit's foot who prevented calamity befalling his crew by sheer serendipity. 'Insufficiently attractive?' Who did the pointy eared leprechaun think he was? And what kind of economic power did Spock have on a commander's pay anyway? Or did his Vulcan daddy give him an allowance so he could buy the likes of Patrick Calleum and avoid compromising their family genome with the daughters of the Vulcan petit bourgeoisie?

"Oh, Captain, you're still awake."

He blinked the red rage out of his eyes and scowled at Yeoman Clayderman. 'No, you've just walked into my nightmare,' he considered saying. "Yes. Is that significant?"

"Admiral Greenleaf doesn't seem to think losing two shuttles is any reason not to have replied to his personnel reassignment requests, sir. I was just on my way to ask the duty doctor to order me not to disturb you."

"Let me see them." He held out his hand, still maintaining his rapid progress around the saucer. Clayderman was half running to keep up to him.

She handed him the padd and he cast his eye down the list of science personnel who could, apparently, be better employed on the research ship Clouseau than aboard the Enterprise. The name Kirk was looking for was missing. He added it, and deleted another at random. "That should keep the admiral happy," he said.

"Patrick?" she squeaked. "I mean, yes, sir. Should I tell Mister Spock before I inform these people that they've been reassigned?"

"I think that would be courteous. Tell him to speak to me if he can see any difficulties arising in his department."

He realised he was now outside his quarters. "Good night, Yeoman." He thumbed the door and left her. Inside his quarters, he drew what felt like the first breath of air he'd taken since Spock had rejected him.

~end of Jane Skazki part~


He held the breath for a few seconds.



TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Spock stared at the closed door, puzzled. When he saw Jim outside his door, he had assumed that he had come to see him, after all, his story of 'just passing by on the way to his quarters' had not been the truth -- his own door was closer to the turbolift that Spock's was -- Uhura's presence must have startled him.

But if Jim had wished to speak with him, why did he now refuse the invitation to play chess?

Of course, chess was not the only thing on Spock's mind ... as a matter of fact, he had planned on seeking out Kirk as soon as Uhura left, at her insistence. It had taken some time for her to convince him that he should reveal his feelings to Kirk, but she had been persistent, and after the events of this past day, he had to admit to himself that her arguments were flawlessly logical.

He left his quarters, and made his way to Kirk's. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he pushed the buzzer to announce himself. There was a longer pause than normal, but eventually the door opened. Kirk was standing there, shirtless. "Jim, we need to talk," Spock said, as he stepped into the darkened room.

"Yes, we do."

~end of T'Lin part~


Jim walked over to where a decanter and two glasses rested on a counter.

Spock took a deep breath.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


"Hmmmmmm?" was Spock's lazy reply.

"You asked why I came to your cabin," Jim explained. "Because I've always wanted to do this."

"This what?"

Jim nipped lightly at the hollow where Spock's neck joined his shoulder, his tongue soothing over the bite mark. "This." He rose up on his elbow, his lips traveling over the satiny smooth chest, marking his territory. "And this." His hand caressed the sharp angle of Spock's hip, fingers finding and raking through the tangle of dark hair between his thighs. "And especially this."

Spock raised his eyebrows. "I see."

Jim laughed, and planted a kiss on Spock's lips. "I don't know why I didn't kiss you sooner. I've wanted to for a long time now."

"Why didn't you?"

"Fear. Plain, old-fashioned fear. I was afraid of how the crew would react, afraid of rejection, afraid of loving anyone or anything other than Enterprise."

"You're not afraid anymore?"

Jim laughed. "Oh, I'm still afraid, I just decided I'm not going to let fear run my life."

"I still curious about one other thing, Jim," Spock said. "What will you tell the crew?"

"About us?" He shrugged. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet, but I suppose I'll tell them the truth. They're a good crew: hard working, loyal. They deserve nothing less." In one fluid movement, he was atop Spock, straddling his hips, a smile of triumph on his face. "Enough talking."

Spock's right eyebrow rose. "Again?"

"The night is still young, Spock, and there are many more things I've always wanted to do with you."

"I find the idea of spending more time in bed with you highly appealing, but it is actually morning now, Jim."

"But remember," Jim replied, "night and day are only simulated on a starship. I'm the captain; it's night if I say it is."

"In that case, Captain," Spock said, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Jim's neck, "what are you waiting for?"

~end of Cait N part~

~The End~

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As if on autopilot, Kirk ran to the bedroom and started throwing clothes into a travel bag. He had to do it; he had to go to Vulcan and tell Spock how he really felt. He knew, deep down inside, if he didn't go now, the old fears would creep back in and take control, and then he'd never tell Spock what was really in his heart.

Five minutes later, packed and anxious to leave, he ran into a dilemma: wheedle his way into getting passage on a starship, or travel by transport. A starship would certainly be faster, but there would be questions asked that he didn't really want to answer. Going by transport would be slower, but it would give him the anonymity he needed.

Two hours later saw him leaving the Los Angeles spaceport and heading for Vulcan. He spent the next two weeks of the voyage alternating between stark terror and euphoric optimism. As the transport docked on Vulcan, he wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and squared his shoulders, running over in his head what he planned to say once he was standing face to face with Spock. He only hoped his newfound resolve wouldn't desert him once he was staring into those piercing brown eyes.

~end of Cait N part~

Kirk skimmed dangerously close to the desert surface in his aircar.

Obtaining access to Gol had been easier than he expected, and an acolyte had let him in promptly when he had knocked on the door of the main building.




























TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Jim walked over to where a decanter and two glasses rested on a counter. "Drink? God knows I sure could use one."

"No thank you."

Jim shrugged and poured himself a shot of the whiskey, downing it in one gulp. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Clearly he was waiting for Spock to speak first.

Spock cleared his throat, uncommonly at a loss for where to start. He wasn't use to letting his human side lead, and found it was more disconcerting than he'd expected. "I came here to tell you that I know why you were outside my cabin earlier."

"Oh?" Jim gave a small smile.

Spock wondered if, standing outside his quarters earlier, Jim had been as nervous as Spock was now. He could feels his palms sweating, something that had never happened before. "Uhura convinced me to tell you my feelings, especially after the events of earlier. It's one thing to tell yourself you'll work up the courage eventually. When your own mortality stares you in the face, courage is the least of your worries." He noticed Jim straightening up, a look of intense concentration on his face. "I don't want to die with you not knowing that. . . ." He walked forward and raised a hand to touch Jim's mussed hair, his fingers caressing the strands as if they were the most precious thing in the universe.

"That?" Jim prompted breathlessly.

Spock leaned down, his lips grazing Jim's ear, and whispered in a voice low and husky with years of pent up emotion, "That I love you."

"Oh, God." Jim pulled back to look into Spock's dark eyes. "Do you really mean that?"

Spock nodded. "With all my heart."

"I love you, too." Jim smiled, tears glistening in his eyes.

A smile spread across Spock's face, the first time he'd ever allowed his human side full reign. He wrapped Jim in a close hug, his hands running up and down his back. "I feared you didn't feel the same. All those away missions - all those women-"

"That was just because I couldn't have you," Jim answered. "I was so lonely, and frustrated." He chuckled. "I thought I'd lose you to Nurse Chapel."

Spock pulled back and raised his right eyebrow. "Nurse Chapel is a good woman, but all she has ever been to me is a fellow crewmember."

"That's good to hear," Jim said. "Now I don't have to have her transferred." He noticed Spock's frown and quickly added, "I was only joking."

"I can see it's going to be harder to indulge my human emotions than I had thought."

"I'll help." His grin was full of mischief. "I know one emotion we can start on right now."

"Oh?" The right eyebrow went up again.

Jim nodded, and took his hand, leading him to the bed. "Oh yes, but it's a very complex emotion, a lot of nuances to it, so it might take . . . oh, all night to explore it."

"It sounds fascinating."

"You haven't heard, or seen, anything yet," Jim promised.

"I could say the same to you," Spock countered. He slid his tunic off his shoulders, never taking his eyes off Jim's face.

"You could?"

"Oh yes." Spock's hands found their way to the front of Jim's trousers. "Did you know that there are over 122 arousal points on a Vulcan's body?"

Jim shivered grabbed Spock's butt, fingers kneading the tight flesh. "It could take me years to find them all."

"I'm counting on it."

~end of Cait N part~

~The End~

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Studies at Gol...

Jim found himself sitting and thinking of this as if his mind was not capable of anything else.

"Gol? It's the Vulcan version of Mt. Athos." Bones had chuckled wryly once, on one of their countless late-night-weekend-on-ship drinking discussions. McCoy could keep a tight reign on his sentimentality....so long as he didn't go below a certain, invisible line in the Saurian brandy bottle. And the two of them had often wound up talking about anything and everything.

Well, almost everything. You couldn't talk to Bones about history without fighting. Bones was completely stacked when it came to contempt for the kind of men Jim held in awe. For every good thing Jim had to say about Abe Lincoln, Bones would shoot back something equally bad, such as his opiate addiction, his disbelief in God, and what about those Indians he hung early in his presidency?

So, Jim generally steered clear of anything resembling a volitile topic--sort of keeping a mental map of potential conversation starters with massive amounts of the oceans charted with HERE BEE DRAGONS.

"What about Athos?" Jim had wondered.

"Ancient Greek monastary, its still running itself." McCoy explained, leaning back in his chair. "Men only. They don't even allow female goats or rabbits on the grounds." He lifted his eyebrows silently. "Other than that, nice people."

Jim turned that over in his head. "They're like Gol?"

"Well, they don't purge all emotions. But that's the human mindset. Vulcans, at least Vulcans today, believe in the purging of all emotions to achieve that pure bliss they call logic." Again, the wry shrug of eyebrows. "No doubt back in Pre-Reform times, they were purging other things..."

Jim let the brandy burn his throat. "Since when did YOU get to be such an expert on Vulcana?"

"Since never." McCoy shot back. "But I know aesthetics. I've got enough of 'em in the family." Abruptly, his mouth snapped shut and he made a show of pouring more drinks.

Of course, the conversation had halted there. Jim remembered best his vague feeling of jealousy that McCoy had known something of Spock's people that he hadn't. After all, hadn't he made a study of his First Officer, and tried to get to know him as much as possible?

It was also back in a time before Jim had taken too many things in account. McCoy's passing comment about family aesthetics was haunting now. Spock was pursuing the bliss of logic...Bones was pursuing Nirvana in the form of research. To all accounts he was growing shaggy and semi-isolated and building an altar in Fabrini medicine.

Spock...in Gol.

Gol.

He thought of the moments when warmth had shone through that severe, lean face. A smile without reservations. Bitter tears over his mother's turmoil as a human on Vulcan. The coldness of his father. Even his nervous worry of touching the infant Teer had been something to treasure, for all those moments had opened the lid in the chest and bared the soul inside.

Gol.

Jim leaned his head in the palms of his hands, and closed his eyes, wondering if he would feel better if he gave in to the pain.

~end of Marcy part~

Was it possible he had weakened Spock so much as to drive him to this?



TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Calleum was the first to find his voice again.

"Sir - "

Kirk silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Dismissed, Ensign." His eyes didn't waver away from Spock's for a second.

"Sir -"

"Dismissed!"

Calleum shot a last unsure gaze to Spock and then hastily retreated in direction to his quarters.

Perhaps Kirk would have disregarded Calleum's imputation, if it weren't for the blush of green on his friend's cheeks and the slight wavering in his gaze, and for the way his shoulders had tensed for a second.

"Can I come in?" Kirk asked.

"Of course, Captain," Spock replied and stepped to the side to let Kirk enter as first.

The door closed behind them with a overly loud hiss, as Kirk turned around to face his second-in-command.

"Why don't you tell me what I don't know," he said with a forced lightness that betrayed him more than any other reaction could have done. 'Maybe it's exactly what I want to hear since months,' he thought.

But Spock had regained his control again and still stood by the door, even straighter than usual. The former gentleness in his face was gone, and he clasped his hands in his back before he stated flatly: "There is nothing to inform you about, Captain."

A very Vulcan way to say 'piss off', Kirk thought, and might have laughed about it if it wasn't for the painful foreboding that now or never he would have the possibility to tell Spock his true feelings. Or was that only his imagination, and he would Spock chase away in the unnecessary hurry of this moment, where he should really wait for his time to come... tomorrow?... in a month?... at the end of their mission, where hurt feelings could at least not influence their working relationship any more?

But then, he could not envision to work without Spock at all. Either he had to give up his love forever, or he had to have the guts to talk with him openly. And in this case this moment was better than most.

"Why don't you try, Spock? Perhaps you will find that I also have some things in my mind that I never told you." His voice trembled slightly with his last words. He was feeling like a teenager on his first date - but this here was much more important than any other date in his life. His stomach begun to cringe as Spock's face turned even more closed than before.

"Mr. Calleum was obviously disturbed by today's events, otherwise he would not have tried to propose me, or made the statement that you are inclined to overinterpret right now."

Kirk frowned. "I knew what he said and that he was only guessing - but I am more interested in your reaction to it." He made a single step towards Spock, carefully closing in.

"I have no eidetic memory, but you said you doubt that I know it. I interpret this as affirmation of his statement."

Kirk held his breath for a second, waiting for Spock's vindication. But none was offered, and so he closed in once more, now only inches away from Spock's face. How often had they stood that near during official missions, body to body in defense or fight, face to face in whispered discussions - but now emotional tension hung between them, and the air in the cabin was suddenly thick enough to cut.

Spock still didn't retreat, which gave Kirk enough encouragement to raise his hand and touch the Vulcan's arm cautiously.

"Spock..." he started, and then stopped again, unsure what words to say in that voice that even to his own ears sounded like that of a stranger in its unsteadiness.

He looked into Spock's eyes, and suddenly there was that sparkle again he had thought to see in rare moments, but each time had dismissed as a product of his own vivid imagination - surely Spock would never look at him *that* way...

Spock raised his hand to Kirk's face, and tenderly touched his forehead. Energy seemed to flood over his fingers directly into Kirk's brain, where it dissolved into every nerve cell. A second later he hastily withdrew, and stepped back, eluding the human's touch.

"Jim," he said, "I cannot do this."

Kirk closed in again, cornering Spock next to the door.

"I see no reason why not," he said with an unsteady breath, and raised his own hand now to touch Spock's face, lightly brushing over his green lips.

"We both want it, I can feel it," Kirk whispered.

"It's against regulations, Captain," Spock said, trying to use the official guidelines as a last weak resort, but Kirk was much to determined now.

"Fuck regulations," Kirk replied, and drew nearer, pressing his body on the warm one of the Vulcan. Heat flooded in waves back and forth, and two heartbeats joined each other in their almost unhealthy increase.

"Fuck... " Kirk wanted to repeat, but couldn't restrain himself anymore after this word. He kissed Spock.

And Spock kissed him back, at first reluctantly and shyly, and then dedicated, opening his mouth to Jim's probing tongue. They tasted each other for a long time, before they finally parted to breathe again.

Spock closed his eyes and leant his head back.

"Oh Spock, I love you." Kirk whispered trembling, pressing his head on Spock's shoulder.

"Jim... I don't know what love is..." Spock said gently, and pulled his head forward again to meet Kirk's gaze, "but if it is the feeling that without you my life would miss a very important part, then I love you."

Kirk smiled. "I hope there is more to it," he said. "I burn for thee, my t'hy'la." His lust flooded over to Spock, who after a last short moment of hesitation replied with the traditional words that unlocked his own needs.

"As I burn for thee."

"Oh god, I dreamt of this so often," Kirk whispered breathlessly. "Let me touch you, please you, make love to you..." His hands traveled under Spock's shirt in his urgent need to get close to this wonderful man - his wonderful lover.

"Then I suggest we make ourselves more comfortable," Spock replied in his pragmatic way, and a small smile appeared on his lips, turning Kirk's knees instantly weak.

They got out of their clothes and into the seldom used bed, sharing a deep embrace while kissing each other once more. And then they made love like they had kissed, first tenderly, then fiercely, over and over again until the artificial ship morning set in and duty claimed them...

Ensign Calleum was not pleased to find the captain in the turbolift when he entered it the next morning. The memory of previous night's encounter made him blush, and he tried hard to avoid a gaze at Kirk after the necessary formal greeting. But obviously Kirk wanted to talk to him.

"At ease, Ensign," the Captain smiled, and Calleum's tension diminished slightly, only to raise again when Kirk pushed the "hold" button and the turbolift stopped in the middle of the shaft.

"Captain, I have to apologize..." Calleum started, but was once again interrupted by Kirk.

"Mr. Calleum, there's no need to apologize to me. In fact, you've almost done me a favor. But an apology to Mr. Spock would be appropriate." Kirk seemed to be in high spirits, and some pennies slowly dropped in Calleum's head.

"Very well, sir, thank you, sir. I will do that."

"And make sure to stick to apologizing only." Kirk added casually as he released the "hold" button.

"Aye aye, Captain!" Calleum replied sternly, and was glad to escape the lift on the next floor.

'Too bad,' Calleum thought sadly while he made his way to the Science Lab, wallowing in disappointment and self pity until the well-built Ensign Dary Maruda from the Security department crossed his way.

"That's our fifth encounter this week. I think we should celebrate this. What about a drink tonight, Patrick?" Maruda asked with a broad smile.

"Sure, Dary. Let's meet after the shift," Patrick replied. He entered the Lab with a last gaze on the firm ass of his evening date. Of course Dary didn't have the right ears, but then, poor little ensigns had to manage with lesser goals...

~end of Acidqueen part~

~The End~

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TOS Hypertext Round Robin


Kirk had one fervent wish right now: to avoid that meeting.

But, as always in his life, duty compelled him, even the duty of an empty desk job. He proceeded to the conference room. Admiral Tweedledum, Admiral Tweedledee. Gol! Spock was beyond his reach now, utterly gone. Turned into some remote, glacial .... An outpost had been destroyed, Beta Alpha Lambda something. Nearest ship responding, the Nautilus. Her first officer, Hikaru Sulu, served under you, didn't he, Jim? Jim? Oh, yes, of course. Fine officer. Sulu had sat before him on the bridge, and Spock behind him. Spock. Might have been the Orions that had attacked. Nautilus ... regular reports .... Spock reporting, Captain. Those eyes. Why hadn't he seen the longing in those eyes? Eons later, the meeting ended.

Kirk rushed back to his office and grabbed the two fifths of Rom ale under his desk. Bones had given them to him, for medicinal purposes. Time for some medicine! He took several hasty gulps, felt the burning in his throat followed by the surge of heat throughout his body, wiped his chin on his sleeve. Ah, that old Rom ale feeling! The wanderlust set in; he popped the lid back onto the bottle. Hid both bottles in a duffel bag and left. Told his secretary he would be gone all day and get rid of everybody. Maybe tomorrow too. Urgent business.

He headed for the flitter pool without thought, found one, jumped in, recovered the Rom ale from its hiding place. Took another long draught, felt the fading heat return along with the feeling that his whole body was charged, and the sense that everything was ssssllllllooooowwww. He had to move. Started the flitter, straight up. Better not be anyone above him, but so what if they were? He took some more ale. He needed action and now. Space bimbos, the redshirts used to say. Word got around quick on a starship. Captain and his space bimbos. Wonder how Spock feels about that? Ha ha ha. Who gives a shit now?

He found a bar. Sleazy dump, just how he liked 'em. Or he thought he liked sleazy dumps, but it might be the ale affecting him. Naaaah. Nausicaan music so loud he thought his head was going to explode. Drank some more ale to relieve the pressure on his skull. Stood by the bar.

A waitress or whatever came over; want a drink, Sailor? Bajoran. Nice ass and tits. No, I have a drink. He handed her a few credits and gave her his usual roguish look. But it was probably the credits that made her follow him.

Out of the bar. The silence made his head feel like it would explode. He drank some more ale to relieve the pressure. Gave a swig to girly too. Hey, he felt generous tonight! He grabbed her arm and shoved her into the flitter, jumped in, headed straight up, merged the wrong way into heavy traffic.

Buckled sheet metal and tiny glass shards were all that the police found after the accident. That and charred bones. Analysis found the remains to be those of Starfleet Admiral James T. Kirk and an unknown Bajoran female. Obviously, the bodies were too badly burned for toxicology tests. The spacetruck driver was not injured.

~end of J Juls part~

~The End~

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TOS Hypertext Round Robin


He held the breath for a few seconds. Exhaled. Drew another, a deep sigh. Exhaled. No, this simply would not do! Unsatisfactory indeed! He reached into the secret Jefferies tube access panel that he had cut into the back of his closet and withdrew his five-liter bottle of Deltan sex pheromone concentrate -- the giant economy size. He pulled down the front of his shirt and poured a generous amount on himself, and then did the same down the front of his trousers. Oooo, that stuff was *cold*! But worth it, for sure.

The effect was, as promised, almost immediate. He could feel his skin growing hot and feel his heart beating faster. And there was something else, hot and fast-growing, that he wanted to feel and beat also. He knew pretty soon it would be too late; he'd wind up in here masturbating for three days. He staggered to the commpanel.

:::Boop::: "Now hear this, now hear this. Sulu, Uhura, Scotty, McCoy, Chekov, Chapel, Rand, and Smep report to my quarters, on the double. Oh, yes, and Ensign Bambi. Kirk out." Huh! Who cared about Spock anyway? The Deltan pheromone concentrate had no effect on Vulcans in any case.

Kirk ran around his quarters splashing everything with the concentrate: his bunk, his couch, his floor, his toilet. Then he poured a bunch into all the air vents. Lastly, he set the bottle down and stood just out of sight of the doorway. "Computer. Set door to open automatically when the doorchime is pressed."

Moments later, Sulu appeared. "Captain, you said, 'on the double.' Is anything ... :::sniff::: ." Sulu's curious gaze found Kirk in the corner, lightly stroking himself, and became a leer. "Oh, Captain, I had always hoped!" He grabbed one of Kirk's antique weapons from its wall sconce and slit his own tunic and trousers open. He then did the same to Kirk. They stood facing each other, slowly peeling away each other's clothes.

The door opened again. "Dammit, Jim, I'm an old country doctor. I can't run that fast ... ." He took a breath. "Why, Jim, Sulu, you ol' sonsabitches! I never thought I'd get invited to anything like this!" He