The stars and Spock did that to him every time, Kirk thought as his wet fingers rubbed over his still stiff member. He never lasted longer than five minutes when he sat in the darkness of the loneliest of all observation decks and gave himself a hand while fantasizing about Spock. Not that it did any good. He had seen the looks Spock and Chapel had exchanged the last days in Sickbay, and the accepting gazes from the Vulcan's parents. Amanda had fluttered around her son and the nurse, and plans were made to get Christine back to her doctorate. Vulcans were overachievers by nature, and "Doctor Chapel" surely sounded better in the marriage papers. Bones had always said that she was overqualified. So he should probably congratulate her. He just didn't feel like it.

He looked into the dark universe outside, barely lit by stars on this side of the galaxy. That he sat here instead of taking up McCoy's invitation for tonight was due to the promise he had made to himself long ago - not to take his fantasies with Spock into bed with his long-time friend and part-time lover. What McCoy and he shared was...hard to explain. Some relaxing moments. Some stepping away from duties and responsibilities that rested on them all day, or the losses they encountered. All in all, a necessary stress relief that helped them both to stay sane. It sounded bad, but it was worth a lot to him.

With Spock it would be different, closer, with more commitment, more...love. At least that's what he thought and dreamed of in the shady hours before waking. But unfortunately, since it wouldn't ever be, it would stay untested.

Finally removing his fingers from his softened penis, he took some handkerchiefs to clean the wetness away. And just when he had closed the pants again, he caught a movement in the dark room. His heartbeat stopped for a second as he realized that it was Sarek. Of all the men... Kirk was sure he had gasped out Spock's name in his climax, and that was likely to give Sarek the wrong idea about their relationship. Attack is the best defense, his military brain told him, and so he cleared his throat.

"Ambassador, I apologize. I didn't know you were here."

"The apology is mine, Captain, for intruding upon your privacy. I must have fallen asleep here, and when I awoke, it was not the...right moment to make myself known."

"I can imagine," Kirk said, tightly controlling his embarrassment. "Well, I think I should set something clear. I might have given you the wrong impression about my relationship with your son. We're friends, that's all."

Sarek stood up and came near. Instead of the more formal and at the same time more Standard clothes from the other days, he wore a long, wide ornamented robe now, which underlined his alien appearance. He looked darn impressive, Kirk thought. Nobody would think that the same man had undergone a life-or-death surgery only four days ago.

"May I...?" the Vulcan asked politely and pointed to a nearby seat.

"Of course," Kirk replied.

Sarek draped himself onto the chair and laced his fingers together in front of his chest.

"Captain, your actions have probably given me the right impression. Am I correct when I assume that you feel drawn to him?"

"Yes," Kirk admitted openly. "But he has never given me any reason to think he reciprocates my feelings."

Sarek nodded. "I believe you. My understanding is that he experiences a certain...attraction to Miss Chapel."

"Indeed, he does," Kirk replied. "And I wish him my best, of course."

Sarek gazed at him, and Kirk felt his stance dismantled. He wished Spock the best...he just wished Spock would see him as the best. Fearing that Sarek understood him all too well, he broke eye contact and looked outside again. The ship was back to warp, and the stars had changed to white smearing streaks.

"I know the problem of...unanswered attraction," Sarek's voice made it to his ears. "I experience it myself with a young attache of mine, a human...not unlike you in character and appearance."

Kirk's jaw dropped, and he looked at him in astonishment. All he had ever learned of Vulcan and Vulcans tumbled through his mind, and what Sarek just had told him was way outside the official line. Why should Sarek be so...honest?

"Openness might be rewarded with openness, Captain," Sarek said. "You obviously know that on Vulcan homosexuality is considered nonexistant. We built ourselves a tight construct of morality with no variability whatsoever. It is brittle like ferrum - one wrong action and it might break. And so our life is filled with the striving for perfect...function."

"Wasn't there the idea of infinite variations...?" Kirk asked.

"IDIC is a philosophy we offer to others, but not to ourselves," Sarek said. His voice was still totally calm. And for once Kirk wished he had that level of control.

Sarek's gaze shifted down to the floor. "It took me decades to completely realize my...illogical tendencies, and then I decided that I would never act upon them. My wife does not know about them. We share our minds, but rarely our bodies, and this meets her wishes."

How could something conveyed so coolly sound so sad, Kirk wondered. But then, if he were to tell the story of his longing, it wouldn't sound very differently. So near and yet so far Spock was; all he would have to do was to reach out to touch him, to bridge the small physical gap - but what good did it do, when the gap in their expectations was insurmountable?

But something in Sarek's words had rung a bell, and Kirk asked, "But now you wonder if your decision was sensible?"

"Indeed," Sarek said and looked up again. "To face death made me reconsider the logic in ignoring this part of myself."

"So you will tell your attache?"

"No." Sarek shook his head. "I am a public figure, representing my society in every way. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I will be measured against it. Ignoring the rules for my own...pleasure...is not an option for me."

"Tonight you aren't in public," escaped Kirk's lips before he could fight down that particular thought. He held his breath as he expected a cool brush-off from the Vulcan for his trespass. But all Sarek did was to look at him with those dark eyes that reminded him so much at Spock, and the upswept brows, and the long pointed ears, and it made Kirk crave Spock so intensely that pure physical pain struck him. This was unbearable. And totally stupid. He stood up in a rush.

"I'd better leave now," he said roughly and turned.

"You are not in public either, Captain," Sarek stated softly behind him. "All that we speak of will never leave this room."

Kirk froze in the middle of his step. "I can't talk about it," he finally said and turned back to Sarek again. "It's illogical and hopeless, and to talk about it only amplifies the pain."

Sarek stood up too, facing Kirk. "Then I should make myself clearer perhaps," he said. "All that we do here will never leave this room."

"Do?" Kirk asked astonished, thoughts on the race again. "Explain."

"You want someone you cannot reach, and I do as well. It would be logical to...burn this craving together."

Kirk swallowed hard. His first impulse was to step away and laugh and leave the Vulcan,who had surely lost his mind over the last few days. But another part of him thought it through, taking in the features in front of him,grasping at straws. It wouldn't be the real thing. It would make it all worse, probably. But on the other hand, he would be able to feel...a Vulcan. To learn what it would be like to touch a Vulcan. It was madness, he knew. It would make it all worse; he was only human and he wouldn't be done with the longings of years over a shared hour with...

He hadn't realized that his hand had reached out, but then he saw it touch one upswept brow, follow the line upwards and down again. And it felt...so good. So near. He closed his eyes and let his hands glide over the face of the other one. Would Spock feel like this? The skin more leathery, hotter and dryer than a human's. The lips harder, the flesh not yielding to his touch. A raspy tongue met his fingertips as they were allowed to enter, and entangled them in an alien way. Out of the mouth again, his fingers felt their way to the side, caressing over a long delicate ear. It was better than his dreams. It was real. For a small moment this was real, and he was allowed to experience its geometric structure, its sculptured wonder. His hand closed over the other one's neck and pulled him closer, meeting no resistance. His lips touched the earlobe, pursuing the exploration by other means. They closed over the tip and sucked it slowly, cherishing every second of the touch. His tongue glided into the meandering auricle, following its strange paths. And on his head, another hand explored his own ear in just the same way.

He shifted direction, nibbling his way down the throat and into the collar of the robe. His hands brushed over the soft material, feeling the other one's chest, ribs, muscles through it. The body at his front radiated a heat he had never experienced before, and like bathing in a sunray he leaned against it now, wallowing in the contact. Strong arms circled around him and pressed him near, taut lips sucking on his ear, licking over his brows, his skin, his cheeks and down his jaws. And though they did not speak, they both knew that they would not kiss tonight. Such a thing did not belong in this stolen moment of time.

Kirk rested his head on the Vulcan's shoulder. It was broad and stable and supportive; it was all he had ever expected it to be. He would never step away again and leave this place to someone else. His hands clutched into the robe, tearing and pulling at the fastenings. Long fingers met his, entangling them tight and opening the clasps. The chest was firm and lightly haired, dark fur, not too much, not too little; it was a perfect match, and his fingers played through it, caressing up and down, finding the navel and below. Hot Vulcan hands opened the buttons of his off-duty shirt and drew a line over his smooth chest. Sensitive fingertips rubbed over his nubs and then around them in expanding circles until they finally went down over ribs and belly and navel and pants' edge. Kirk's hands reached around the other's body, caressing over the back, taking in the dry skin and the perfect line of hidden muscles that ended in wonderful compact buttocks, and they fingered them through the fabric and clamped and massaged them, pulling them closer and closer toward his own body. Their bodies molded perfectly, like he had always known they would, and two bulges sparred between them, still hidden and confined.

He wordlessly directed the man in his arms toward the sofa corner. Nothing should break the spell of this night. This was Spock, this was his lover who had finally come to him. This was what he would feel like, taste like, and Kirk was allowed and welcomed tonight. He let the Vulcan down onto the sofa and knelt down in front of him caressing with his hands over the pulsing groin, the soft fabric, the inner thighs, legs, chest, circling his way, extending the tension further and further before finally opening the pants. He pulled them down, drinking in the view. He had seen pictures, he had seen all Vulcan erotica he had found in any databank, but this was real. This was his to explore now, and he bent forward and let his tongue glide along the stiff, slightly curved penis. The deeper cleaved head, the double ridges, the thick shaft. No balls to fumble with, but he reached around the Vulcan's chest, searching the inner organs in the kidney area. He had learned his lessons well in all his nights of research. He would show the Vulcan what he could give him, what he wanted him to give, tonight and every night to come.

A soft moan sounded above him, and heat flooded Kirk; that was his doing that elicited this moan from his stern and controlled Vulcan, his ministrations that broke open the seals of emotionlessness and allowed the Vulcan's soul to come to full life, to breathe in freedom for tonight. His mouth closed over the penis, sucking and licking its way up and down, slowly fanning up the fire. The flesh quivered under the arousing assault, muscles strained, the body tensed. But that was not what Kirk wanted, and so he withdrew with another final kiss on the glans. He briefly looked up into hooded dark eyes, features relaxed and so open, so incredibly open for now, and their gazes met and the Vulcan understood again wordlessly, and maybe because it was his craving, too. A small shiver went through him, and beyond Kirk's face, the penis released a bit of its load, some carefully measured drops that slowly crawled down the skin. Kirk cautiously touched them, distributing the liquid all around the shaft. It felt hot and slick and oily, it was perfect for what they wanted.

He cleaned his fingers with his mouth, taking in the alien taste, spices and olive oil and walnut and more, and then glided to the side, leaning his chest over the sofa. Pulling down his pants and spreading his legs he offered himself. Oh lord, how often had he dreamed of this and now it really happened and it felt so much like he had thought it would, and the Vulcan entered him so slowly and cautiously and always controlled and caring, but he didn't want to be treated like a frail human, he wanted to taken like a man. He bucked back, claiming the thick shaft with his body. He was no virgin, he could take it. He wanted to take it. And the Vulcan did as he had hoped for, pressing the penis deep inside his bowels, his body deep into the cushion, strong hands on his hips holding him, claiming him.

In and out his lover drew, yes, Spock did that to him, did fuck him here on the observation deck, did rub his wonderful dick with those wonderful ridges over his prostate, made him lose his mind in the frenzy of arousal that swept through him now. It went on and on and he clamped his hands into the cushions and the Vulcan's hands clamped into his hips and their bodies clung together with salty human sweat, adding to the wetness that began to flow down his legs, more of the oily semen. He moaned with every stroke now, his lungs fighting for air, his body grasping for release, oh lord, he wanted to feel the Vulcan come, his lover should come deep inside of his body, he wanted to be filled by him, marked with his seed, joined for now and forever.

A forceful pulsing, a painfully tight grip of hands, and then Spock came and he could feel the shots, one, two, three, counting escaped him, and he was filled like he had always dreamed of, and reality was so much better, and the ridges flared and pressed on his muscles and he felt captured in his pleasure, his own release still far away. A chest leaned over him, soft hands caressing his hair and Vulcan words dancing in his ears, whispered words of caress and love even though he didn't understand them. He shivered from need and cold and emotional overload, swimming on a tide of adrenalin that didn't want to leave him yet, and a robe sheltered him now, tightly wrapped over his back, enclosing and holding him. The penis withdrew, evoking a small pain as the ridges stretched the muscle on their way out, and then he was empty again, but not alone. He was lifted and placed on the sofa on his back, strong hands securing the cloth around him, a Vulcan body's heat at his side.

His hands entangled in short thick strands, he swam along on the flow of arousal as a hot mouth closed over his penis now, sucking him into a dry heat. The raspy tongue played with his glans and stroked it in a steady rhythm that increased with time. Like a vibrator it finally moved in an incredible tempo, sending shivers through his abdomen. Then the mouth took him in deeper, and the tongue curled around his shaft, rubbing around it in circles. It began quivering again, massaging everything with the smallest of movements, and it felt so incredible and it was something he had never been able to dream of because how can one dream of something one didn't know. His fingers clamped into his lover's head and it was Spock giving him this tonight and it was perfect and it would never end... Orgasm rolled over him, whirling him around in a thunderstorm of release, and tonight he was one with him, yes, yes, yes, his body bucking and arching and tensing in the arms of his lover and he sobbed from the pain and the relief and he curled in the end, pressing his wet face into the furred chest. Arms enclosed and embraced him, taking him into their shelter, and he wanted to rest here forever and ever...but it would never be this way.

Reality slowly returned to him, a reality he didn't want to face, and he felt so good and yet it hurt so much, and he wondered if he would love or hate Sarek in the long run for all the knowledge he had given him tonight.

He pulled away and sat upright on the sofa, taking a deep breath. His hair was wet and hung in strands, and between his legs liquids pooled that he had to remove quickly before the cleaning team could wonder.

"Let me do it," Sarek said and used the inner side of the robe, cleaning everything efficiently.

"Thank you," Kirk said, not specifying what for. There was not much more to say, as distance expanded between them now rapidly, opening a large rift that had only partly been bridged by their joined dream.

"My pleasure, Captain," Sarek replied and donned his pants and robe. And for a brief moment Kirk wondered if Sarek had found in him what he had dreamed of, the young human attache…

"We will arrive at Babel tomorrow," he said, grabbing his pants without getting up.

"In 18.7 hours, in my estimation," Sarek said. He smoothed his robe, ready to leave.

"I'll see you then," Kirk replied. Their gazes met for a moment, examining each other's state and finding it was none of their respective businesses anymore. And then the Vulcan left, leaving Kirk in the darkness of the observation deck.

*

The goodbye ceremony was as official and stiff as it was short, the tight embrace Amanda gave Chapel and the heartfelt handshake she gave McCoy the only signs of emotion. Sarek and Spock exchanged a few last words in Vulcan, and Kirk got the feeling that though their interactions were more relaxed, they were still far from 'easy'. And when Sarek came over to say goodbye to him, Kirk saw not the smallest movement in the dark eyes, making him wonder if in the end it had all been wishful thinking. He kept the captain's mask just as tightly in place, talking official words in this official moment. And then the couple left, leaving the small committee behind.

Spock and Chapel walked away side by side, and Kirk looked after them until they had disappeared through the door. He would overcome the pain in his chest, sooner or later. Probably later.

A light touch on his shoulder made his head turn.

"You can always dream about it, Jim," McCoy said softly.

"You know?" Kirk asked wearily.

"I've known for a long time," McCoy replied. And it doesn't matter, his eyes conveyed.

A wave of sympathy washed through Kirk. "You're a hell of a good friend, Bones," he said and heartily hugged his CMO.

"Get your ass to the bridge, Captain," McCoy said roughly but not unfriendly, retreating from the contact. "It's high time to get back into that uncomfortable chair of yours."

"You're right," Kirk said, knowing that once he was there, everything would become unimportant in the face of the endless universe, everything but the ship and the next mission. The stars did that to him. Every time.

The End