Star Trek XI: Hung Lou Meng
Title: Hung Lou Meng
Author: ofphenwa
Rating: R
Summary: After a long day, Spock Prime dreams.
A/N:: The title is actually taken from a Chinese literature classic masterpiece, "Dreams of Red Chamber." This is a fill for st_xi_kink prompt.
Disclaimer:I wish I could own a star!
Hung Lou Meng
Vulcans do not dream.
Given his unique status as a being of both worlds, Spock had the ability to dream. It was idiosyncratically pleasant to visualise fantasy in his sleep though it also had the risk of bringing the dreaded nightmares humans were prone to. Very few people knew of this anomaly save for his family and James T. Kirk.
These days, he found it hard to dream peacefully, his aching bones and many anxieties disturbing his rest. He was also constantly busy overseeing the construction of New Vulcan during the day and came back to an empty, spacious abode at sunset to sleep dreamlessly as exhaustion claimed his weary aging body. Nevertheless, Spock Prime did not begrudge his recent lack of dreams.
He was a very lucky person indeed to have received his new home as a mark of his status as a respected Vulcan Elder. He was also thankful that while he did not dream anymore, one of his dreams had come true - Jim was alive. Spock only regretted that he could no longer travel at Jim's side for the torch had been passed on to his younger counterpart who hopefully, would get to experience the same joys and wonders he had, in a different universe and time.
Spock turned off the lights in his spartan bedroom and prepared for bed. He laid down on the mattress and shut his eyes, listening to the faint whistling of the cold desert wind that lulled him softly, gently to sleep.
--
It was hot, the noon sun beating down on him in the heat of summer. Spock's rheumatic joints were no longer aching and he drew the logical conclusion that he was dreaming again. Spock recognized his surroundings to be the familiar arid landscape of the extinct Vulcan, with its reddish deserts and imposing jagged volcanic rock formations. There was a steep cliff with a staircase carved into the red stone before him. Spock heard the faint sonorous boom of the kep and the high musical notes of an ancient ralash-tanaf played on a ka'athyra. Instinct, not logic, told him that he had to climb the cliff and find the source of music.
So Spock climbed the cliff, patiently taking each step under the fierce blazing sun. He was curious to see where his dream led. The steps were steep and eroded, impeding his progress up the cliff as Spock was no longer young and spry and had to be very cautious in taking his next step. The hot wind buffeted the old traveller, threatening to fling him off the cliff the higher he went as the sun moved across the sky. Spock did not complain and diligently took the next step.
Soon the sun set and Spock paused in his journey for a moment to admire the beautiful sight of purple and midnight-blue streaks overtaking the orange sky and speckling it with shimmering stars. The two moons were a welcome sight and boon as they lit the steps before Spock. The faint music was still playing and seemed to be growing louder, bolstering Spock's will to succeed despite the night wind freezing and cutting deep into his body to rouse a bone-deep ache.
At dawn, Spock finally reached the top of the cliff and beheld a large beautiful temple resembling the great Temple of Amonak on Vulcan. However, its lines were not as severe and were gently curved like Ionic pillars belonging to an ancient extinct human civilization. It was built of the same red granite-like material like other Vulcan buildings and blended into the surrounding landscape well. The music was emanating from within the building, a warm light spilling from the open entrance. Entranced by the music and driven by curiosity, Spock entered the temple.
--
Spock did not expect to see a vast room with walls of the finest cinnabar-red silk embroidered with ancient Vulcan calligraphy fluttering in the breeze. He could not see the ceiling. There was a persistent light fragrance of cinnamon and nutmeg in the room that was pleasing to his sensitive nose and refreshed him, easing his pains from his arduous journey. Spock was mildly startled to find himself dressed in fresh clean linen robes before remembering that this was a dream and dreams often tended to be illogical.
However, Spock still had not found the source of the bewitching music and so was propelled forward into the vast room with the forest of red silk walls to seek his goal. The silk walls parted for him easily, creating a path for Spock and he soon discerned he was approaching a four-pillar palanquin with a canopy of sheer maroon cotton that hid whoever must be playing the music. The music hushed once Spock stood beside the veil.
Spock slowly pushed aside the veil and did not see anyone playing the ka'athyra. Instead, he saw the young Jim nude as the day as he was born, curled on one of the large plush cushions in innocent sleep. The morning light landed on Jim through the crack in the veil and highlighted his blond hair gold. His muscles were well-defined and toned in his youthful athleticism. His pouty lips were rosy and slightly chapped - right now, they were slightly open in Jim's peaceful sleep. He was beautiful. Spock did not question why his dream had brought him to Jim Kirk in this red chamber. He simply got onto the soft mattress, and laid down beside Jim. Spock smiled slowly, letting contentment wash over him freely, unfettered by the constraints of his society. A silvery chime of bells rang and Spock felt the exhaustion from his climb overtake him. So he slept to Jim’s soft rhythmic breathing; not bothered by the curious deed of sleeping within a dream…only that he was at Jim’s side once more.
--
Spock woke up to Jim looking down at him with a sleepy soft smile. His blue eyes shone brightly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the veil. It was already noon, a hot breeze rustling the silk drapery. Jim greeted in a sweet voice,
“Hello, Spock.”
Then Jim bent down like a willow bends in the wind to slowly kiss Spock, his lips unexpectedly soft on Spock’s chapped lips. Spock opened his mouth and reciprocated with joy, embracing Jim with his arms. He delighted in the solidity of Jim’s golden presence in his arms and the slow, sweet, exploratory kiss that was a most precious gift, more treasured than the invaluable rare remnants of Vulcan. Spock had lost his first love such a long time ago that the ache was dull but in this young universe filled with wondrous possibiilties, Spock fell in love again with the young man who shared the same name, destiny and soul as his first love; he was t’hy’la even across the vast space and time in different universes.
He pitied his younger counterpart who had chosen lovely Uhura, as reported by Jim in their frequent communiques. He would never know what he had missed and Spock was not keen to persuade him again, remembering how stubborn he had been at his age. Spock had been tempted many times to take Jim for himself but Jim had never turned an interested eye in his direction and so Spock hovered at a distance, coming nearer but never touching like an asymptote.
Jim sighed as he withdrew from the langurous kiss. He was now flushed from both the kiss and the noon Vulcan heat. Sweat gleamed from his tanned skin, pooling in the subtle curves of his body; the shallow dip in the collar bone, sternum, belly-button and the defined hipbones. Spock sat up and pressed his thumbs against the dusky nipples, evoking a delicious shudder from Jim. Spock kissed Jim quickly and began to lick the trail of sweat from behind Jim’s ear down the graceful column of his neck and finally nipping the delicate skin of the collar-bone and tasting the salty sweat and Jim.
Jim tilted his head back, his eyes falling half-closed as his whole body arched into Spock’s administrations. A throaty moan escaped him and Jim swung his leg over Spock’s thighs so that he was straddling him. With a cheeky wink, Jim gently pushed Spock back down onto the plush cushions and began to divest Spock of his robes, his cool fingers lingering against Spock’s skin and fuelling Spock’s arousal. Spock ran his sensitive hands up Jim’s firm thighs and up his flanks, feeling out the well concealed numerous scars that littered his body as well as the contours of his muscles. Spock liked the scars for they were a reminder of what Jim endured and overcome, a testament to his strength, and courage.
The robes were flung to the side and with a sinuous shimmy down Spock’s body, Jim devoted his attention to Spock’s body with his sinful mouth and hands that roamed his body with eager inquisitivity. Spock cupped Jim’s chin and made him look at him. With a wry smile, Spock informed him,
“Vulcans have very sensitive hands and ears.”
Jim smirked and he held onto Spock’s hand and lifted up to his mouth. Keeping eye contact, Jim lewdly licked Spock’s index finger and then sucked it into his hot mouth, pouty lips slick and red around the appendage. Spock took a sharp intake of air at the erotic sight and sensual feeling in his erogenous zone. Jim slid his finger in and out of his mouth, his eyes electric blue with lust. Spock could glimpse Jim’s pink tongue curling round his finger and it made Spock even hotter. However, Jim soon released Spock’s finger and began to plant gentle kisses along the surfaces of Spock’s hand, letting the heat between them cool down to a more sedate level like smouldering embers.
Spock gently pulled his hand free just as Jim was about to go further beyond the delicate skin of the wrist to minister to the pale underside of Spock’s forearm. Shushing Jim with another perfect, slow kiss, Spock’s hands went down to cup Jim’s round buttocks and pushed him up against his body, feeling Jim’s hard manhood nudge against his stomach. Jim gasped slightly at the contact but did not attempt to rut against Spock or touch himself - it was still too early for that yet. Spock pulled one of the white cushions over from the pile and positioned it beneath Jim’s hips. Jim laid back down on the cushion, gripping it with his hands beside his head.
A coincidental strong gust of the arid afternoon wind blew aside the red veils, filling the palanquin with golden light. In it, Jim for a moment, seemed like an ethereal creature, ha’su with wings of light. In the next moment, Jim was a mortal again. Spock’s lips curled into a deprecating smile at his whimsical thoughts.
“E’tum.”
Jim blushed under Spock’s frank admiring gaze, his fingers tightening in the cloth. Spock lowered his head to lay a reverent kiss on Jim’s chest, directly over where his human heart beat, so vibrant and strong. After a moment, Jim caressed Spock’s pointed ear, twirling some of his hair strands, grey with age, around his fingers. Spock glanced up at Jim’s face and saw his child-like glee at being able to mess with Spock’s pristine hair and touch his exotic pointed ears. Jim slowed his fiddling with Spock’s hair and with the tip of his finger, Jim traced Spock’s facial features with a look of wonder; no doubt comparing his younger counterpart with him. The finger was cool and gentle on his craggy face and Spock was compelled to say to Jim,
“I am no longer young.” And no longer handsome like your Spock. Went unsaid.
Jim shook his head, rolling his eyes at Spock’s unwarranted shame. Jim bent his knees and spread them, allowing Spock to settle on top of him more fully. Spock huffed a laugh,
“As you command, Captain.”
With more flexibility than one would have expected from Spock, Spock slid down Jim’s body and quickly took Jim’s half-hard member into his mouth. Jim yelled in startled pleasure at the sudden wet heat engulfing him and would have almost choked Spock with his immediate erection if not for Spock’s strong grip that prevented Jim from thrusting his hips. After a few minutes of giving Jim an impromptu blow-job, Spock stopped and retreated to reaffirm Jim’s consent much to Jim’s dismayed annoyance.
“Jim, are you sure…?”
Even if this Jim wasn’t real, Spock still respected his t’hy’la too much to presume that the dream doppelganger would allow Spock to claim him. Jim mock-glared at Spock who hovered over him with his warm callused hands firmly gripping his hips. Spock solemnly looked down at Jim, waiting for his response. Jim snorted and surged up from the pillow to grab Spock around the neck with one hand and plant a sloppy kiss on Spock’s stern mouth and muttered against his lips,
“Yes.”
Jim’s eyes were the colour of stormy oceans Spock had seen on Earth. They were filled with resolute confidence befitting of a Starfleet Captain and a simmering desire. Spock could not deny Jim and obeyed. He was swallowed into the welcoming cool and watched the bewitching eyes slide closed beneath him as Jim’s body arched into a bow. Jim’s hands squeezed Spock’s arms, digging crescents into Spock’s skin, green blood welling to the surface. Jim’s eyes fluttered open and entreated him as he moaned breathlessly in a husky voice,
“More.”
Spock welcomed the sting of pain; it helped to focus his mind in the overwhelming, suffocating heat that swamped the chamber and the sheer pleasure of being inside Jim who was like an oasis to Spock’s Vulcan senses. The heat building between them was enough to make Spock sweat, droplets of the salty liquid beading on his back and evaporating quickly in the dry hot wind that continually blew through the airy chamber with red silk curtains and caressed their entwined bodies like a lover’s hands. Spock shivered as if in a fever which Jim could only quench, wrapping his entire being around him like life-sustaining water.
Together, they rocked and met each other like the gentle ocean waves lapping against the white sands of the beach, fuelling the flames. They slid against the smooth linen bed-sheets, wrinkling them and crushed the plush cushions beneath their two bodies. Jim wrapped his legs around Spock, crossing them over Spock’s back to press him down, deeper into his thrusts, releasing an inarticulate cry that prompted Spock to shush him with a gentle kiss, his hands pulling Jim close. Jim clutched the sheets until his knuckles turned white and Spock heard the roaring of blood in his ears, pounding in a steady crescendo like the traditional kep as he plunged headlong into the irresistible cool depths of the oasis that was actually a vast ocean.
Jim’s eyes snapped open to fix themselves onto Spock’s face, his own face flushed and red lips panting for breath. Jim touched Spock’s face like Spock was precious to him. Spock was drowning in those blue eyes and was loath to break free. He could not last long under that devastatingly honest gaze, full of love and want. So he took Jim in his hand and quickly stroked him off to a climax, watching Jim orgasm with his name on his lips and his body bending like a lissom willow, eyes closing in his ecstasy. Jim’s warm white seed spilled over Spock’s hand and slicked their stomachs. Spock managed a few more stuttered thrusts before he also spillled his seed into Jim’s spasming body and then collapsed onto Jim’s sated body.
Recollecting his wits, Spock made to pull out of Jim but Jim hooked one leg over his hip, stopping him from withdrawing. Jim said,
“Stay for a while more.”
So Spock stayed and cradled Jim to him and Jim sweetly kissed his cheek, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck. Then Jim, exhausted from their lovemaking, slipped into a peaceful slumber. Spock watched Jim sleep. Then Spock realised that the red curtains were beginning to fade, the deep resonant sounds of a gong becoming clearer. The dream was ending. With a heavy feeling, Spock stroked Jim’s peaceful face and kissed him on his forehead and whispered,
“T’hy’la, Jim, I love you.”
And Jim, together with the red chamber, faded out of existence as the gong rang.
--
It was dawn. Spock got up from bed and tucked the bedsheets back neatly, feeling his actual age. He felt so tired. Spock decided to walk out to the balcony and watch the sunrise break over the red horizon as the morning wake-up gongs echoed in the distant temples on New Vulcan. Spock grasped the wall, smiling bittersweetly as the red colours of the sky reminded him of the chamber in the dream. It had been a beautiful dream, but fleeting and unlikely to manifest, such was the ephemeral nature of dreams.
“Hello, Spock.”
A familiar and unexpected voice said behind him. With a disbelieving look, Spock turned around to see Captain James T. Kirk dressed in Starfleet gold uniform. He was smiling shyly at Spock, nervously awaiting his reply. There was something Spock recognised in Jim’s limpid eyes, reminiscent of the dream… Spock quickly recovered from his shock and slowly smiled at Jim,
“What a pleasant surprise to see you on New Vulcan. I was not expecting you, Jim.”
Fin
Author: ofphenwa
Rating: R
Summary: After a long day, Spock Prime dreams.
A/N:: The title is actually taken from a Chinese literature classic masterpiece, "Dreams of Red Chamber." This is a fill for st_xi_kink prompt.
Disclaimer:I wish I could own a star!
Hung Lou Meng
Vulcans do not dream.
Given his unique status as a being of both worlds, Spock had the ability to dream. It was idiosyncratically pleasant to visualise fantasy in his sleep though it also had the risk of bringing the dreaded nightmares humans were prone to. Very few people knew of this anomaly save for his family and James T. Kirk.
These days, he found it hard to dream peacefully, his aching bones and many anxieties disturbing his rest. He was also constantly busy overseeing the construction of New Vulcan during the day and came back to an empty, spacious abode at sunset to sleep dreamlessly as exhaustion claimed his weary aging body. Nevertheless, Spock Prime did not begrudge his recent lack of dreams.
He was a very lucky person indeed to have received his new home as a mark of his status as a respected Vulcan Elder. He was also thankful that while he did not dream anymore, one of his dreams had come true - Jim was alive. Spock only regretted that he could no longer travel at Jim's side for the torch had been passed on to his younger counterpart who hopefully, would get to experience the same joys and wonders he had, in a different universe and time.
Spock turned off the lights in his spartan bedroom and prepared for bed. He laid down on the mattress and shut his eyes, listening to the faint whistling of the cold desert wind that lulled him softly, gently to sleep.
--
It was hot, the noon sun beating down on him in the heat of summer. Spock's rheumatic joints were no longer aching and he drew the logical conclusion that he was dreaming again. Spock recognized his surroundings to be the familiar arid landscape of the extinct Vulcan, with its reddish deserts and imposing jagged volcanic rock formations. There was a steep cliff with a staircase carved into the red stone before him. Spock heard the faint sonorous boom of the kep and the high musical notes of an ancient ralash-tanaf played on a ka'athyra. Instinct, not logic, told him that he had to climb the cliff and find the source of music.
So Spock climbed the cliff, patiently taking each step under the fierce blazing sun. He was curious to see where his dream led. The steps were steep and eroded, impeding his progress up the cliff as Spock was no longer young and spry and had to be very cautious in taking his next step. The hot wind buffeted the old traveller, threatening to fling him off the cliff the higher he went as the sun moved across the sky. Spock did not complain and diligently took the next step.
Soon the sun set and Spock paused in his journey for a moment to admire the beautiful sight of purple and midnight-blue streaks overtaking the orange sky and speckling it with shimmering stars. The two moons were a welcome sight and boon as they lit the steps before Spock. The faint music was still playing and seemed to be growing louder, bolstering Spock's will to succeed despite the night wind freezing and cutting deep into his body to rouse a bone-deep ache.
At dawn, Spock finally reached the top of the cliff and beheld a large beautiful temple resembling the great Temple of Amonak on Vulcan. However, its lines were not as severe and were gently curved like Ionic pillars belonging to an ancient extinct human civilization. It was built of the same red granite-like material like other Vulcan buildings and blended into the surrounding landscape well. The music was emanating from within the building, a warm light spilling from the open entrance. Entranced by the music and driven by curiosity, Spock entered the temple.
--
Spock did not expect to see a vast room with walls of the finest cinnabar-red silk embroidered with ancient Vulcan calligraphy fluttering in the breeze. He could not see the ceiling. There was a persistent light fragrance of cinnamon and nutmeg in the room that was pleasing to his sensitive nose and refreshed him, easing his pains from his arduous journey. Spock was mildly startled to find himself dressed in fresh clean linen robes before remembering that this was a dream and dreams often tended to be illogical.
However, Spock still had not found the source of the bewitching music and so was propelled forward into the vast room with the forest of red silk walls to seek his goal. The silk walls parted for him easily, creating a path for Spock and he soon discerned he was approaching a four-pillar palanquin with a canopy of sheer maroon cotton that hid whoever must be playing the music. The music hushed once Spock stood beside the veil.
Spock slowly pushed aside the veil and did not see anyone playing the ka'athyra. Instead, he saw the young Jim nude as the day as he was born, curled on one of the large plush cushions in innocent sleep. The morning light landed on Jim through the crack in the veil and highlighted his blond hair gold. His muscles were well-defined and toned in his youthful athleticism. His pouty lips were rosy and slightly chapped - right now, they were slightly open in Jim's peaceful sleep. He was beautiful. Spock did not question why his dream had brought him to Jim Kirk in this red chamber. He simply got onto the soft mattress, and laid down beside Jim. Spock smiled slowly, letting contentment wash over him freely, unfettered by the constraints of his society. A silvery chime of bells rang and Spock felt the exhaustion from his climb overtake him. So he slept to Jim’s soft rhythmic breathing; not bothered by the curious deed of sleeping within a dream…only that he was at Jim’s side once more.
--
Spock woke up to Jim looking down at him with a sleepy soft smile. His blue eyes shone brightly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the veil. It was already noon, a hot breeze rustling the silk drapery. Jim greeted in a sweet voice,
“Hello, Spock.”
Then Jim bent down like a willow bends in the wind to slowly kiss Spock, his lips unexpectedly soft on Spock’s chapped lips. Spock opened his mouth and reciprocated with joy, embracing Jim with his arms. He delighted in the solidity of Jim’s golden presence in his arms and the slow, sweet, exploratory kiss that was a most precious gift, more treasured than the invaluable rare remnants of Vulcan. Spock had lost his first love such a long time ago that the ache was dull but in this young universe filled with wondrous possibiilties, Spock fell in love again with the young man who shared the same name, destiny and soul as his first love; he was t’hy’la even across the vast space and time in different universes.
He pitied his younger counterpart who had chosen lovely Uhura, as reported by Jim in their frequent communiques. He would never know what he had missed and Spock was not keen to persuade him again, remembering how stubborn he had been at his age. Spock had been tempted many times to take Jim for himself but Jim had never turned an interested eye in his direction and so Spock hovered at a distance, coming nearer but never touching like an asymptote.
Jim sighed as he withdrew from the langurous kiss. He was now flushed from both the kiss and the noon Vulcan heat. Sweat gleamed from his tanned skin, pooling in the subtle curves of his body; the shallow dip in the collar bone, sternum, belly-button and the defined hipbones. Spock sat up and pressed his thumbs against the dusky nipples, evoking a delicious shudder from Jim. Spock kissed Jim quickly and began to lick the trail of sweat from behind Jim’s ear down the graceful column of his neck and finally nipping the delicate skin of the collar-bone and tasting the salty sweat and Jim.
Jim tilted his head back, his eyes falling half-closed as his whole body arched into Spock’s administrations. A throaty moan escaped him and Jim swung his leg over Spock’s thighs so that he was straddling him. With a cheeky wink, Jim gently pushed Spock back down onto the plush cushions and began to divest Spock of his robes, his cool fingers lingering against Spock’s skin and fuelling Spock’s arousal. Spock ran his sensitive hands up Jim’s firm thighs and up his flanks, feeling out the well concealed numerous scars that littered his body as well as the contours of his muscles. Spock liked the scars for they were a reminder of what Jim endured and overcome, a testament to his strength, and courage.
The robes were flung to the side and with a sinuous shimmy down Spock’s body, Jim devoted his attention to Spock’s body with his sinful mouth and hands that roamed his body with eager inquisitivity. Spock cupped Jim’s chin and made him look at him. With a wry smile, Spock informed him,
“Vulcans have very sensitive hands and ears.”
Jim smirked and he held onto Spock’s hand and lifted up to his mouth. Keeping eye contact, Jim lewdly licked Spock’s index finger and then sucked it into his hot mouth, pouty lips slick and red around the appendage. Spock took a sharp intake of air at the erotic sight and sensual feeling in his erogenous zone. Jim slid his finger in and out of his mouth, his eyes electric blue with lust. Spock could glimpse Jim’s pink tongue curling round his finger and it made Spock even hotter. However, Jim soon released Spock’s finger and began to plant gentle kisses along the surfaces of Spock’s hand, letting the heat between them cool down to a more sedate level like smouldering embers.
Spock gently pulled his hand free just as Jim was about to go further beyond the delicate skin of the wrist to minister to the pale underside of Spock’s forearm. Shushing Jim with another perfect, slow kiss, Spock’s hands went down to cup Jim’s round buttocks and pushed him up against his body, feeling Jim’s hard manhood nudge against his stomach. Jim gasped slightly at the contact but did not attempt to rut against Spock or touch himself - it was still too early for that yet. Spock pulled one of the white cushions over from the pile and positioned it beneath Jim’s hips. Jim laid back down on the cushion, gripping it with his hands beside his head.
A coincidental strong gust of the arid afternoon wind blew aside the red veils, filling the palanquin with golden light. In it, Jim for a moment, seemed like an ethereal creature, ha’su with wings of light. In the next moment, Jim was a mortal again. Spock’s lips curled into a deprecating smile at his whimsical thoughts.
“E’tum.”
Jim blushed under Spock’s frank admiring gaze, his fingers tightening in the cloth. Spock lowered his head to lay a reverent kiss on Jim’s chest, directly over where his human heart beat, so vibrant and strong. After a moment, Jim caressed Spock’s pointed ear, twirling some of his hair strands, grey with age, around his fingers. Spock glanced up at Jim’s face and saw his child-like glee at being able to mess with Spock’s pristine hair and touch his exotic pointed ears. Jim slowed his fiddling with Spock’s hair and with the tip of his finger, Jim traced Spock’s facial features with a look of wonder; no doubt comparing his younger counterpart with him. The finger was cool and gentle on his craggy face and Spock was compelled to say to Jim,
“I am no longer young.” And no longer handsome like your Spock. Went unsaid.
Jim shook his head, rolling his eyes at Spock’s unwarranted shame. Jim bent his knees and spread them, allowing Spock to settle on top of him more fully. Spock huffed a laugh,
“As you command, Captain.”
With more flexibility than one would have expected from Spock, Spock slid down Jim’s body and quickly took Jim’s half-hard member into his mouth. Jim yelled in startled pleasure at the sudden wet heat engulfing him and would have almost choked Spock with his immediate erection if not for Spock’s strong grip that prevented Jim from thrusting his hips. After a few minutes of giving Jim an impromptu blow-job, Spock stopped and retreated to reaffirm Jim’s consent much to Jim’s dismayed annoyance.
“Jim, are you sure…?”
Even if this Jim wasn’t real, Spock still respected his t’hy’la too much to presume that the dream doppelganger would allow Spock to claim him. Jim mock-glared at Spock who hovered over him with his warm callused hands firmly gripping his hips. Spock solemnly looked down at Jim, waiting for his response. Jim snorted and surged up from the pillow to grab Spock around the neck with one hand and plant a sloppy kiss on Spock’s stern mouth and muttered against his lips,
“Yes.”
Jim’s eyes were the colour of stormy oceans Spock had seen on Earth. They were filled with resolute confidence befitting of a Starfleet Captain and a simmering desire. Spock could not deny Jim and obeyed. He was swallowed into the welcoming cool and watched the bewitching eyes slide closed beneath him as Jim’s body arched into a bow. Jim’s hands squeezed Spock’s arms, digging crescents into Spock’s skin, green blood welling to the surface. Jim’s eyes fluttered open and entreated him as he moaned breathlessly in a husky voice,
“More.”
Spock welcomed the sting of pain; it helped to focus his mind in the overwhelming, suffocating heat that swamped the chamber and the sheer pleasure of being inside Jim who was like an oasis to Spock’s Vulcan senses. The heat building between them was enough to make Spock sweat, droplets of the salty liquid beading on his back and evaporating quickly in the dry hot wind that continually blew through the airy chamber with red silk curtains and caressed their entwined bodies like a lover’s hands. Spock shivered as if in a fever which Jim could only quench, wrapping his entire being around him like life-sustaining water.
Together, they rocked and met each other like the gentle ocean waves lapping against the white sands of the beach, fuelling the flames. They slid against the smooth linen bed-sheets, wrinkling them and crushed the plush cushions beneath their two bodies. Jim wrapped his legs around Spock, crossing them over Spock’s back to press him down, deeper into his thrusts, releasing an inarticulate cry that prompted Spock to shush him with a gentle kiss, his hands pulling Jim close. Jim clutched the sheets until his knuckles turned white and Spock heard the roaring of blood in his ears, pounding in a steady crescendo like the traditional kep as he plunged headlong into the irresistible cool depths of the oasis that was actually a vast ocean.
Jim’s eyes snapped open to fix themselves onto Spock’s face, his own face flushed and red lips panting for breath. Jim touched Spock’s face like Spock was precious to him. Spock was drowning in those blue eyes and was loath to break free. He could not last long under that devastatingly honest gaze, full of love and want. So he took Jim in his hand and quickly stroked him off to a climax, watching Jim orgasm with his name on his lips and his body bending like a lissom willow, eyes closing in his ecstasy. Jim’s warm white seed spilled over Spock’s hand and slicked their stomachs. Spock managed a few more stuttered thrusts before he also spillled his seed into Jim’s spasming body and then collapsed onto Jim’s sated body.
Recollecting his wits, Spock made to pull out of Jim but Jim hooked one leg over his hip, stopping him from withdrawing. Jim said,
“Stay for a while more.”
So Spock stayed and cradled Jim to him and Jim sweetly kissed his cheek, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck. Then Jim, exhausted from their lovemaking, slipped into a peaceful slumber. Spock watched Jim sleep. Then Spock realised that the red curtains were beginning to fade, the deep resonant sounds of a gong becoming clearer. The dream was ending. With a heavy feeling, Spock stroked Jim’s peaceful face and kissed him on his forehead and whispered,
“T’hy’la, Jim, I love you.”
And Jim, together with the red chamber, faded out of existence as the gong rang.
--
It was dawn. Spock got up from bed and tucked the bedsheets back neatly, feeling his actual age. He felt so tired. Spock decided to walk out to the balcony and watch the sunrise break over the red horizon as the morning wake-up gongs echoed in the distant temples on New Vulcan. Spock grasped the wall, smiling bittersweetly as the red colours of the sky reminded him of the chamber in the dream. It had been a beautiful dream, but fleeting and unlikely to manifest, such was the ephemeral nature of dreams.
“Hello, Spock.”
A familiar and unexpected voice said behind him. With a disbelieving look, Spock turned around to see Captain James T. Kirk dressed in Starfleet gold uniform. He was smiling shyly at Spock, nervously awaiting his reply. There was something Spock recognised in Jim’s limpid eyes, reminiscent of the dream… Spock quickly recovered from his shock and slowly smiled at Jim,
“What a pleasant surprise to see you on New Vulcan. I was not expecting you, Jim.”
Fin