Summary: Jim's first few mind melds have an unexpected side-effect.
Written in a restaurant called "Mr. Souvlaki", to the fanfic100 prompt "Outsides."

Inside and Out

Kirk/Spock by Farfalla; rated R

Kirk and Spock reposed in Mr. Spock's quarters, eating spinach puffs provided by the food synthesizer. They had finished their chess game some time ago, but Kirk had lingered with his friend. He found that if he left Spock's quarters directly after chess, he'd just spend the rest of the evening thinking about him anyway, until he went to bed, so they might as well be spending the time together.

"Everyone thinks I go around the galaxy mopping up melted admirers," Kirk said, licking olive oil from his fingers, "but you're the one who really seems to attract all the attention."

Spock raised his eyebrow. "Surely you do not mean to suggest that the mother Horta should have preferred you over me."

Kirk shrugged. "It's those ears. I can't compete with them." His eyes lingered over the regal points, thinking about exactly how well they served to attract mates. He himself was interested in Spock that way, but Spock was still a little bit of a mystery to him and he didn't want to disturb him by coming on too strongly. It was safer to discuss their relative external romantic experiences instead whenever the urge flared. "Besides, I'm also a little jealous of the Horta, too," he found himself adding. "After all, you've never melded with me, and you're the best friend I've got."

Spock smiled with his eyes at this last statement. "I am pleased you consider me your best friend, and I apologize for neglecting to initiate a meld with you earlier. I didn't realize you were interested."

"I'm... curious!" Kirk flashed him a smile.

Spock stood up and motioned for Kirk to approach him. "This will be a novel experience for me as well," he pointed out, "as I have never before participated in a meld purely for recreational purposes."

"It's the perfect mix of Vulcan and human, then, isn't it," said Kirk. Like you, his bedroom eyes added.

Spock stepped nearer and placed his fingers in the positions Kirk had seen so often--most recently on the pebbly "skin" of the Horta--across Kirk's temple. "My mind to your mind," he murmured, and drew Kirk safely into his mind.

A white light engulfed Kirk's world and suddenly he saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing--not even Spock's fingers, which he knew must still be on his face. Instead, he was suffused with a fundamental knowledge of Spock. He knew that Spock was here with him, in a universe that contained only them. In this safe place, Spock showed him his quiet humor and his interested serenity, and Kirk replied with his confident tenacity. They stroked each other with loyalty and enjoyment of each other's existence.

It was a uniquely nonphysical experience for Kirk, and also a timeless one. He didn't know how long he and Spock had been melded when they finally separated. "Wow." He grinned.

"That was gratifying," Spock said serenely.

"Thank you," said Kirk, grasping his hand suddenly. "I should go get some sleep now."

"Good evening, Captain."

Kirk nodded and left the room, noticing that his lips were wet and in fact there was saliva collected at their corner. Had he drooled during the meld? He hoped that, if so, Spock had been as unaware of their physical circumstances as he was himself...

The following evening ship's business prevented Kirk and Spock from spending leisure time together, so they had to wait until the next morning to meet off-duty. This time, they raced each other in the swimming pool for a half an hour before toweling off and heading into a private rec room to grab some breakfast from a food synthesizer before shift began.

"Melding with you the night before last proved more therapeutic than my nightly meditation," Spock commented casually. "It is an interesting phenomenon that I shall have to research further to understand."

"Does that mean you want to meld with me again?" Jim shifted and tugged his bathing suit back into place with the deftness of one used to dealing with hiding erections since the age of twelve.

"There is time before we are due on the bridge," Spock answered indirectly.

Jim nodded. "That's right, since I brought my uniform down here with me."

They were already sitting beside each other, so all Spock had to do was reach out and touch his face. "My mind to your mind."

Spock's mind was a cool and soothing sea, more fluid and gentle than the pool in which they'd spent their recent exertions. Jim drifted inside it and let himself relax.

Spock's savvy internal clock kicked in eventually, and let them know when they were soon due on the bridge. The meld dissolved, and Jim quickly helped Spock clear away the breakfast dishes. Then they hurried off into the changing rooms to put their uniforms on.

As Jim pulled his gold tunic over his head, he realized that his nipples were a bit more tender than usual--possibly even sore. What had caused that? They scraped oddly against his shirt, half painful, half arousing.

He stopped thinking about it once he arrived on the bridge. He was captain, and he had a job to do.

The next night, Spock came over to Kirk's quarters and showed him a pop documentary on the history of ShiKahr, Vulcan's capital city. He knew how much Jim loved history, and was correct in assuming that this was a good way to educate Jim about his home planet.

They sat together on Kirk's bed, leaning up against the wall, to watch, so when the vid was over it seemed the easiest thing in the world for Kirk to take Spock's hand and move it towards his face. He looked up at Spock expectantly, like a kid asking for a cookie. "Only if you're up for it," he added.

"It would be agreeable," Spock answered, letting Jim manipulate his hand. Jim's clumsy attempts to press Spock's fingers to his own meld points amused him, but he let Jim play around for a few moments before taking charge and positioning his fingers correctly.

"My mind to your mind." They may have recited the words together. In the serene insideness of the meld, who knew what was being said on the outside?

When the meld had broken, Spock collected his vid chip and bade Jim goodnight. Jim waved him goodbye from the bed and did not get up until Spock had left.

As he walked around his room, tidying up, he sensed that something was amiss. A familiar stickiness in his pants set his body on red alert. "Computer, privacy lock," he murmured quickly, undoing his fly and pulling down his pants.

Sure enough, a happy glob of whitish semen had splashed across his underwear. His penis was completely quiescent, but apparently it had not been all evening. He looked down at the offending organ, which looked back up at him innocently flaccid, as if to say, "Who, me? I've been in your pants all night."

He took a closer look at his pants and saw that the stain had run through. Oh, God, I hope Spock didn't notice that, flashed a thought in his mind. He swiftly removed the rest of his uniform and tossed it into the dirty clothes chute.

His mind was racing. Obviously the melds were having some kind of effect on his body. He remembered the soreness in his nipples, and wondered if the fact that the human body wasn't designed to withstand frequent melding was having some strange effect on his nervous system.

He threw on a thick robe and headed out the door to Spock's quarters.

Spock answered his buzz with a concerned expression. "Yes, Captain?"

Jim was slightly amazed, although unsurprised, that Spock still had the poise to refer to him as Captain even though he was wearing a bathrobe. "Sorry to disturb you, Spock--mind if I come inside?"

Spock stepped aside to give Jim room to enter, then let the door shut. "Are you well?"

Jim paused for a moment, then got to the point. "Melding--has become one of my favorite activities. Melding with you. But I'm afraid it's having a strange effect on my body." Seeing Spock's concerned, stricken expression, he was quick to add, "Nothing dangerous. I've... just... my body becomes aroused. And this time, I think I may have ejaculated in my pants." As Spock stared at him, his eyes growing large into bicycle wheels, Jim added again--"Sorry to be so direct, but I thought you should know. I was wondering if that was normal for humans who perform frequent melding."

"No," Spock said in wonderment, "it is not normal." He paused and drew closer. "Jim, I, too... I, too, have reacted this way to our mental contact."

"I have memories of your arms around me and I don't know where they come from," Jim blurted out.

"I know your taste," said Spock.

"I've had a pointed ear tip in my mouth," Jim exclaimed. "Your pointed ear. I've got muscle memory!"

They stood, frozen, each one processing. "Once our minds were joined, our bodies could not help themselves," Spock concluded. "Our minds were so compatible that they induced our bodies to perform physical acts of--"

"We made love, Spock," Jim interrupted in a voice full of passion. "We made love tonight, and I don't remember it. We were so divorced from our bodies, there inside, that we missed everything going on outside. I don't even remember the first time I kissed you, but I know that I must have! The first time we melded..."

"That is an excellent hypothesis," Spock agreed, "although I was, myself, too absorbed in the meld to notice the physical experience."

"This is crazy."

"What do you suggest?"

"Maybe there's some way of combining human physical desires with Vulcan mind-joining," Kirk suggested.

"What do you mean?" asked Spock, intrigued.

Seized by confidence, Jim let the bathrobe fall to the floor.

"Magnificent," Spock uttered at the sight.

"Glad you like it," Jim flirted. "I've been working on it for over thirty years."

"And I suppose genetics and environment had nothing to do with your beauty," Spock hit back.

Jim would have responded in kind, but was a little pleasantly thrown off by Spock calling him beautiful. Instead, he just beckoned. "C'mere."

He held out his hand. Spock came closer and touched it timidly, caressing the back of Jim's fingers.

"My hand to your hand?" Jim suggested. "Like that." Then he leaned his hand upwards, matching wrists with Spock. "My wrist to your wrist."

"My elbow to your elbow," Spock added, moving their arms to a more comfortable downward position in which to match.

"My toes to your toes."

"My foot to your foot." Spock ran his foot over the top of Jim's, lightly.

Jim pulled off Spock's blue tunic and black undershirt in one piece. "Stop me if you want me to stop at any point," he reminded him. "My shoulder to your shoulder." Now his bare chest was tantalizingly close to Spock's hairy chest, so close that the dark curls brushed across Jim's smooth skin.

"My knee to your knee."

"My chest to your chest." Jim's nipples were hard and tender as he pushed them into the forest on Spock's body.

"My torso to your torso," said Spock. But his hand was in the way as their bodies pressed together, undoing his fly.

Jim pulled down Spock's pants--and boxers--all at once. "My--oh!" He grunted animalistically as their jutting erections smashed together.

Spock pressed their testicles together without saying a word. Jim got the idea.

"My mouth--"

"My tongue--"

They spoke at the same time and attacked each other with kisses. And it was over so quickly--two very hard thrusts against each other and then they were clutching each other's bodies and panting, satiated.

"I love you inside and out." Jim licked the sweat from the back of Spock's neck. "I am... completely addicted to you, Mr. Spock."

"I was not aware that Vulcan sweat was pharmacologically active," Spock replied.

And, just because he could, Jim pinched his rear in response.

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