Postmortem
(Kirk/Spock slash)

7.

‘You never did get me that coffee,’ Jim said.

Spock stirred sleepily. He was perfectly content, lying curled on his side on the rug before the fire, allowing his body to act as a shield to stop the blazing heat from burning Jim. Jim was still curled behind him, his body touching at every point, his arm heavy and relaxed across Spock’s flank. The fire light dazzled Spock’s eyes, and the heat washed at him like a high summer day on Vulcan, and at his back was Jim, always Jim, keeping him safe from harm.

‘It is not coffee,’ Spock murmured. ‘Besides, the *laftin* does not react well to brewing.’

‘Well, that’s true,’ Kirk smiled. He sounded as sleepy as Spock felt.

Reluctantly, Spock shifted himself, curling upwards like a cat to sit on his haunches on the rug.

‘I need to wash,’ he said. While his part in proceedings had proved highly enjoyable, it had also been rather more messy for him than it had for Jim. ‘I will go do so, then I will make more *laftin*.’

Kirk lazily stroked his hand down Spock’s thigh, marvelling at the change that had taken place in their relationship in the last hour or so.

‘It’s a big bath here, Spock,’ he said with a smile.

‘That is true,’ Spock nodded.

‘I could do with a wash myself.’

‘Well, I shall not be too long, Jim,’ Spock reassured him.

‘*Spock!*’ Kirk said in exasperation.

‘Oh…’ Spock said slowly. ‘You mean, you wish to share?’

‘*Yes*, Spock.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose. ‘You might simply have said so, Jim. I am not a mindreader.’

‘Really?’ Jim asked playfully. ‘I thought you were, Mr Spock?’

Spock tilted his head to the side. ‘Well… It is the height of rudeness to make contact without permission…’

‘Well, in lieu of mindreading, Spock,’ Kirk said with slow, deliberate clarity, ‘I want to fill that great bath down there with hot, hot water, and I want to put so much bubble bath in it that it looks like an explosion in a bubble factory, and I want to slip into the water with you and find out what you feel like when you’re hot and wet and soapy.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose. ‘I thought for a minute, Jim, that you were going to suggest further intercourse,’ he said.

Much to Spock’s surprise, Kirk snorted with laughter.

‘Spock, you put everything so romantically,’ he said in exasperation. ‘Yes, Mr Spock,’ he nodded. ‘I would like, in that hot, bubble-filled bath, for you to – fuck my brains out.’

Spock’s eyebrow lifted even higher. ‘There is no need for crudity,’ he said in a rather hurt tone. Then he added, ‘I need very little persuasion to return the favour, Jim. You may believe in that.’

He stood up, then reached out a hand to pull Kirk to his feet.

******

Spock had had intercourse before, but never like this. Never sunk up to the neck in hot water, with thick drifts of bubbles tickling at his chin and neck and earlobes. Never when the partner nestled so contentedly alongside him was male, was his own captain – was *Jim*.

He thought back briefly to Leila Kalomi, to the irresponsible excitement of finding secluded areas in the barn, on wild hillsides, in the homely comfort of her patchwork bed. He had been happy. He had been content, but with that edge of danger, with that constant thought of, *if Jim happened across us*. If Jim happened across us, what? He would be furious? He would be shocked? He would – sink alongside them and add his own uniqueness to that heady mix? Even as he thrust into her softness with human vigour, he had thought, *If Jim were to see me now…* Always Jim – and he had not realised what that had meant. His relief – his overwhelming relief, despite the sadness, when he came back to Jim, when Jim angered him to the point of violence, and the cold water drenched over him as he realised his place and his loyalty. When he could turn back to that one man on the bridge, restored to perfect reality…

He stroked a hand down Jim’s flank, made slippery by the mixture of hot water and soap. He traced his fingers over the firm musculature of his buttock and thigh, naming each separate muscle in his mind with concise precision, and uniting those scientific certainties with the thrill of pleasure that the touching of them produced. He considered what he was doing. Was it logical? In many ways, he believed it was. Such a relationship did not have any direct impact on the world around him, but it did produce secondary benefits. It produced relaxation, and reassurance, and contentment, which were all beneficial to a state of being.

Was it emotional? Spock allowed himself a small smile. It was, incontrovertibly, emotional – but the presence of emotions did not always preclude logic. Happiness and contentment often produced a better working relationship. He did not believe that his and his captain’s relationship had ever been better.

‘Are you going to sit there analysing all night?’ Kirk asked him, breaking into his thoughts. ‘I can practically hear the cogs turning.’

Spock regarded him. ‘There are no mechanical moving parts within my brain, Jim, contrary to whatever Dr McCoy may tell you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Kirk asked mischievously.

‘I will prove it,’ Spock said with determination.

He spent a moment considering the shape of the bath, the complexities of the human and Vulcan body, and the depth of the water. In order to produce the most convenient position, but also to prevent drowning, there seemed to be one logical solution.

He slipped briefly out of the bath into the hot air of the bathroom.

‘Close your eyes, Jim,’ he said softly.

Kirk looked at him with momentary surprise, wondering if the Vulcan had suddenly become bashful. It had to be said that he looked rather amusing, standing there patched with trembling heaps of foam that had clung to his body when he stood up.

‘Close your eyes,’ Spock repeated more firmly.

Kirk gave him a bemused smile, and obeyed.

Spock turned to one of the bathrobes that hung on the back of the bathroom door, and removed the belt from it. There was a radiator running up the wall behind the bath, made from intricately twisting metal tubes. Spock reached into the water and captured Jim’s wrists. He raised his arms, and tied them expertly together, and then looped the belt around the metal of the radiator, high enough to be sure that there was no possibility of Jim’s head slipping below the water.

Jim opened his eyes in sudden alarm, staring at the Vulcan.

‘Spock, what the hell – ’ he began.

‘I have merely devised a logical solution to prevent you from drowning,’ he said reasonably.

‘By making me helpless?’ Kirk asked incredulously.

A smile touched the corners of Spock’s mouth. ‘That is, of course, a regretful side-effect of the solution,’ he said.

Kirk registered the subtle emotion on the Vulcan’s face.

‘You’re getting off on this!’ he realised.

Spock looked bewildered, but he didn’t ask the meaning of the phrase. Jim felt a sudden heat building in the pit of his belly. Spock, aroused. Spock, aroused by the prospect of binding his captain’s arms immovably to the wall, and indulging in perfect freedom.

The Vulcan shook the confusion out of his head, replacing it with focussed determination.  He stepped back into the bath, purposefully placing himself between Kirk’s legs. The water rose, lapping about his captain’s chest. He knelt, and the water rose a little higher. He had judged the amount of displacement precisely. At no point would it reach Jim’s mouth or nose.

He slipped his hands into the water, and with great care placed them firmly on Kirk’s hips, lifting him up a little. Jim gasped, feeling the hardness and hotness of the Vulcan’s erection brushing against him in the water, and Spock hesitated, looking into Jim’s eyes again. Kirk looked at him directly, hiding nothing in his gaze, and Spock took that as assent.

He positioned himself, his tip slipping so perfectly to the desired location that the human body seemed purposefully designed for this. He eased forward, pushing with the same degree of care and caution that Jim had used with him just half an hour earlier. The memory of that feeling, the slight apprehension and then the surprising pleasure of the solidity of Jim sliding into him, overwhelmed him for a moment. But then this new feeling, this tightness that gripped around him, began to push away that other memory. This feeling of *Jim*, the deep, warm inside of Jim, stroking him with a clenching firmness, began to push away every other thought in his mind.

He began to move himself in an ageless rhythm, his hands gripped on Jim’s hips, feeling his muscles tense and flex under his fingers. Jim’s head was thrown back, the perfect angles of the underside of his chin and the length of his throat catching the light, his mouth open and emitting tiny gasps of pleasure. And the fire built in the pit of his belly, sending shivers of pleasure through his body, and he savoured each one in the way that only a Vulcan could, with the total appreciation of a thing so rarely allowed to him.

‘Oh – God, Spock,’ Kirk ground out. ‘God, Spock, please…’

Spock was almost unconscious of the reality around him, but those sounds pleased him, and heightened the consuming pulses of desire in his own body, and suddenly the sensation of complete pleasure exploded in his mind, and he found himself bent forward against Jim, chest against chest, mouth against mouth, as he jetted his seed into his body.

‘Oh, God, Spock,’ Kirk murmured finally.

Spock came back to himself, feeling his cheek against Jim’s cheek, and his waning erection slipping from his body, and realising that –

‘Oh,’ he said slowly, pressing a hand to his side as a tightness overcame his chest.

‘I know,’ Jim murmured.

‘No,’ he said, ripping at the ties on Kirk’s wrists, logic asserting itself with cold clarity. ‘Jim, my heart – ’

The same clear logic seemed to strike Kirk as the same time, and he proved precisely why he had been granted the captaincy of a starship. He pulled out the bathplug with his toes at the same time as he gripped his arms about Spock’s chest, hefting him out of the bath and onto the floor. He laid him carefully on the heated tiles, touching a hand briefly to the side of his chest where Spock’s own hand was resting and feeling the odd a-rhythmic pounding under his ribs. He ran without further delay for the medical kit in Spock’s bedroom, and returning to see him lying still on the floor, eyes closed, obviously trying with all of his power to control and calm his heart rate. Kirk gave the Vulcan the briefest of scans, to confirm the most probable scenario, and then took the prepared hypo, and pressured the full dose into the Vulcan’s arm.

Spock lay breathing in short, tight gasps, steam rising from his body in small wisps. His face was an odd, unpleasant grey, but a green flush seemed to be slowly returning to his cheeks.

‘Better?’ Kirk asked urgently, scanning him again, and Spock gave a minute nod, opening his eyes to fix them on Kirk’s.

‘The – tightness is – dissipating,’ he said with effort.

‘Spock,’ Kirk said in a low voice, brushing his wet hair from his forehead with one hand. ‘God, Spock, don’t do that to me. Please don’t do that to me again…’

Spock’s eyebrow quirked upwards minutely.

‘I – assure you, Jim. I – had very little intention – of provoking a heart attack. Sincerely. The experience – was pleasant – but not to die for…’

‘Spock,’ Kirk murmured again.

He briefly towelled the last of the water away from the Vulcan’s body, then picked him up in his arms and carried him through without preamble into his bedroom. He set the Vulcan down on the wide bed there, and sat down beside him.

‘You know how to scare a person,’ he said. ‘Do you know that?’

Spock’s eyebrow rose again. He was looking brighter by the minute as McCoy’s drugs did their work, but he was lamentably weak.

‘That was quite obvious,’ he said. ‘I believe that you were as pale as I felt. As I said, I had absolutely no intention – ’

Kirk exhaled, and nodded, checking the Vulcan’s pulse and heart rate again, before setting up the monitoring devices that McCoy had sent for precisely this occurrence.

‘I need to call McCoy,’ he said restlessly. ‘He’s going to want to know about this. He might want a visual communication.’

Spock’s eyebrow rose higher. ‘Then may I suggest that you don some clothing – and think of a plausible excuse for the activity that provoked this attack?’

‘Hmm,’ Kirk said. Then he said with a sudden fierce determination, ‘I swear to God, Spock, I’m going to work out just how to prove your innocence, and I’m going to get you off this godforsaken planet and back to the Enterprise where you belong. I swear to God I am…’

‘I know, Jim,’ Spock said quietly. He glanced sideways at the portable monitors that were softly beeping and humming next to him. ‘You may want to give the monitors half an hour to gather data before you call the good doctor. That will give us plenty of time to think of a plausible excuse…’

******

Kirk had chosen to go upstairs to the comm unit in the kitchen to contact McCoy. The instruments monitoring Spock had a remote screen unit that could be put anywhere in the house, enabling him to be certain that Spock was fine even while he was in another room, but he had diligently stayed at Spock’s side for the first half-hour, watching him intently for any sign of worse illness. Now he was more comfortable with leaving the Vulcan, he was grateful that the comm unit was upstairs, wanting the excuse to break the news to McCoy alone, without Spock able to see the depth of his concern.

‘He was doing *what,* Jim?’ McCoy asked as Kirk tried to give his excuses, his incredulity reaching such a pitch that he pronounced the word, *hwat,* Anglo-Saxon style. ‘Of all the stupid, insane, crazy – ’

‘He just – wanted some exercise, to see how much fitness he’d lost,’ Kirk said limply, glad that Spock could not see how atrociously he was managing to lie. ‘He wanted to see how many times he could run up and down the stairs in five minutes.’

‘Goddammit, Jim!’ McCoy exclaimed. ‘The man’s got a goddamn heart condition! Thank God there aren’t stairs on the Enterprise, or he’d never get better after anything…’

‘Bones,’ Kirk said softly, shaking his head. He could not imagine how relevant having or not having stairs on the Enterprise was to Spock’s general health.

‘All right, Jim. It doesn’t so much matter how,’ he admitted. ‘Just send me through the readings, and I’ll take a good look at them. And *keep him off the stairs!*’

‘All right, Bones,’ Kirk said in a chastened tone.

‘It’s okay, Jim,’ McCoy reassured him. ‘It’s not totally unexpected. You did the right thing – you acted immediately, and stopped the attack before it could do too much damage. That’s the main thing. Once I’ve assessed the seriousness of the attack, we can work on repairing the damage.’

‘It won’t take too long to assess?’ Kirk asked anxiously.

‘I’ll get back to you within half an hour,’ McCoy promised. ‘I’ll want the visual link set up by then. Illogical, I know, but I want to actually *see* how that green-blooded son-of-a-hobgoblin’s doing, rather than getting it through figures on a chart.’

‘It’ll be set up, Bones,’ Kirk promised. ‘Half an hour. Out.’

He cut the communication, then went to find the bulky visual adapter for the communicator. He had not had cause to use it yet, and had only brought it on McCoy’s insistence, for just this type of event. It would be easy enough to set it up in Spock’s room.

Spock’s eyes were closed as he entered the room with his arms clasped around the large comm screen, but they opened as soon as the Vulcan heard him enter.

‘I’m all right, Jim,’ he said before Kirk could ask. ‘I am tired, and there is some residual aching and tightness in my side, but that is all.’

‘You’re sure?’ Kirk asked, putting the comm screen down beside the bed and stroking a hand over his forehead. He had not realised before how much he had longed to touch Spock’s hair, but now he had access to it he could not keep his fingers away from the fascinating dark strands.

‘I am sure,’ Spock nodded, capturing Jim’s hand between his own and holding it there, his eyes sparkling with an affection that he had never felt comfortable with showing before.

‘Bones is going to look at the data, and call back in half an hour,’ Kirk told him, sitting down beside him on the mattress. ‘You’ll be fine, Spock.’

Spock allowed the corners of his mouth to lift.

‘I know, Jim,’ he said, aware that Kirk needed more reassurance than he himself did.

They sat largely in silence while they waited for McCoy’s return call. Kirk set up the screen beside the bed, then resumed his position on the mattress at Spock’s hip. Occasionally he glanced at the monitors that were translating every nuance of the Vulcan’s life processes into blips and waves, and Spock followed his gaze, and interpreted the precise meaning of those blips and waves into reassuring words.

‘My heartbeat is becoming more regular,’ he was saying as the communicator bleeped.

Kirk jumped as if he had been caught stealing, transferring himself to the chair by the bed even as his hand shot to the comm button as if he was striking a fire alarm.

‘Bones?’ he said swiftly.

McCoy’s face appeared on the screen, and Spock experienced a most unVulcan pang of nostalgia as he saw the background of the doctor’s familiar office, with its shelves of medical antiques and curios decorating the walls.

‘Dr McCoy,’ he said. ‘It is gratifying to see your face.’

‘And yours too,’ McCoy nodded, still carefully avoiding the use of the Vulcan’s name. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, glancing towards the door to his office. ‘Door’s locked on the most secure circuit. No one’s going to barge in.’

‘And no one’s got any wind of this?’ Kirk asked anxiously.

‘I processed everything in complete privacy,’ McCoy said. ‘Hell, it’s about – ’ He glanced at something off-screen, and groaned. ‘It’s twenty past four in the morning here. Most sane people are asleep. And someone’s taught me enough devious tricks about these computers to cover the traces.’

Kirk glanced at Spock with a smile, interpreting *someone* to mean the Vulcan beside him. McCoy was still being fastidious about not using Spock’s name in case of someone overhearing, even at four a.m..

‘Oh, and I passed on that message,’ McCoy said, looking pointedly at Spock. ‘And the people you wanted me to speak to are mighty relieved.’

‘Thank you, Dr McCoy,’ Spock with sincere gratitude on his face. He looked at Kirk, perceiving his puzzlement, and said *sotto voce*, ‘My parents.’

Kirk nodded briefly, then turned back to the screen.

‘Bones, the results,’ he said impatiently. ‘You’ve got them through?’

‘I’ve got them through,’ McCoy nodded, turning his attention briefly to a padd on the desk. ‘I’m patching them through to your terminal, with my recommendations for treatment. It wasn’t a severe attack at least. You did well at controlling your heart rate,’ he said, looking pointedly towards Spock, ‘and Jim did well at treating you so quickly. I’m prescribing a specific course of drugs in the next few days that should help, and I want you to stay in bed until your bio-rhythms are back to safe levels. Everything’s in the data I’ve sent you. But *no strenuous activity,*’ he said firmly, fixing a glare on the Vulcan. ‘Seriously. Each attack will weaken your heart to the point where I won’t be able to help you without hands-on attention. Do you understand that, you pig-headed – ’

‘Yes, I understand that,’ Spock broke in seriously. ‘I will endeavour to be very good, Dr McCoy,’ he said in a contrite tone.

‘You’d better be,’ McCoy said severely. He leant closer to the screen. ‘Well, your colour looks okay, you seem well enough, considering. But I want an update patched through to me here every six hours for the next few days. Clear?’

‘Of course, Doctor,’ Spock nodded, beginning to look amused.

‘Hmph,’ McCoy said in an unconvinced tone. ‘Jim,’ he said, turning towards the captain. ‘Can I talk to you alone for a few minutes? Just some ship’s business, that’s all, but our patient needs his rest. I want him to try to sleep for a while.’

Kirk glanced at Spock, then back at the screen, and nodded.

‘All right, Bones,’ he said. ‘I’ll cut the visual, then just give me a few seconds to get upstairs.’

‘That’s fine, Jim,’ McCoy nodded. ‘And *you,*’ he said, looking directly at Spock. ‘You sleep.’

‘Of course, sir,’ Spock said archly, and he turned over onto his side and closed his eyes without further preamble.

******

‘What was it about the ship, Bones?’ Kirk asked, as soon as he had got upstairs and re-established the communication with the doctor.

‘Nothing about the ship, Jim,’ McCoy said in a strange tone. ‘And, boy am I glad that I’m not having *this* conversation on visual…’

‘What do you mean, Doc?’ Kirk asked curiously.

‘Jim, I may just be an old country doctor, but I know a fair amount about bio-chemistry,’ McCoy said in a drawn-out tone. ‘I’ve got a damn good head nurse who knows a lot about bio-chemistry too, and she’s accumulated quite a few texts on the problems of Vulcans. The bio-chemical readouts from our patient’s body tell me that just prior to the heart attack his body was flooded with the Vulcan version of testosterone, and a good few other Vulcan-specific hormones, too.’

‘What of it, Bones?’ Kirk asked, trying to keep his tone light and innocent.

‘Jim,’ McCoy said impatiently. ‘You both assured me that he hasn’t been out of the house since he got there, and I’m guessing you haven’t had visitors. That’s why I’m speaking to *you* and not to him, because I’m pretty damn sure I’m not breaking any confidences. I don’t think I could take talking about this with him…’

‘Talking about *what,* Bones?’ Kirk asked impatiently, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

McCoy sighed. ‘Jim, there are certain chemicals that are only released in a Vulcan’s body during sexual intercourse. Not during masturbation. Not as a result of heavy foreplay or illicit thoughts or anything like that – but *only* during full, penetrative sexual intercourse. Those chemicals are clear in his bloodstream, and they played a large part in provoking the attack. Now, you’re the only person he’s seen in the last few days, Jim-boy,’ he said, his accent becoming more Southern all the while as his awkwardness grew. ‘I don’t want to pry into your personal life. Hell, this is the last subject on earth I want to be discussing with you, really it is. But, Jim, you *cannot* put him through that again. You simply *cannot.* There is a very serious chance that it could kill him.’

‘Kill him…’ Kirk echoed, all embarrassment pushed out of his head by those cold, real words.

‘Indulge in Vulcan finger play, in mutual petting, in whatever you like, Jim,’ McCoy said, sounding as if he was trying very hard to do away with his uncomfortableness. ‘Hell, you can – Jesus… You can penetrate him if he doesn’t over-exert himself while it’s going on. Just – for God’s sake, and I can’t believe I’m discussing this – just don’t let him do *that* again.’

‘All right, Bones,’ Kirk said quietly, after a long pause. ‘All right, I understand what you’re saying. I’ll let him know…’

‘Good,’ McCoy said, his voice oddly gruff. ‘I should sign off now, anyway. We’ve already been talking for too long.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ Jim said tiredly.

He could not help but feel apprehensive about the night ahead with a Vulcan who had just suffered a minor heart attack. This cottage on Malker suddenly seemed terribly isolated, when there was not one person on the planet that they could trust to help Spock in a medical crisis.

‘Don’t worry, Jim,’ McCoy said firmly, reading the worry in his tone. ‘He’ll be just fine. Let him sleep tonight, give him the medicines that I’ve prescribed, and keep the monitors on him. He’ll probably wake up in the morning protesting that he’s fit to run a marathon. He *won’t* be fit to run a marathon, mind, but he will be much better. It’s your job to make sure he doesn’t move from that bed any further than the bathroom, at least for twenty-four hours.’

‘He won’t,’ Kirk said firmly. ‘I can promise you that, Bones.’

‘And Jim,’ McCoy said softly.

‘Yes, Bones?’

‘I’m happy for you,’ he said in a sincere tone. ‘I’m happy for both of you. This has been coming on for a long time. I’m just glad you saw it before someone else had to point it out for you.’

‘Thank you, Bones,’ Kirk said with a smile. ‘Truly. Thank you for everything. I’ll check in with you in six hours.’

‘Good,’ McCoy said in a satisfied tone. ‘Now try to get some sleep.’

‘I will,’ Kirk said. ‘Night, Bones.’

‘Night, Jim,’ McCoy replied. ‘McCoy out.’

Kirk turned the comm off, and stood there for a moment, smiling at the thought of his friend so far away on the Enterprise. McCoy could be downright un-tactful when he wanted to be – but this was not one of those times. It was good to think of him there on the ship, with concern for both of his friend foremost in his mind.

He went back downstairs to find that Spock had obeyed McCoy’s orders to the letter, and was deep in sleep, lying on his side in the bed. Kirk smiled down at him, remembering that he was still naked under the blankets.

‘That coffee’ll have to wait until tomorrow,’ he murmured.

He stood for a moment, gazing down at the Vulcan, before slipping his own clothes off and carefully getting into the wide bed himself, snuggling himself close to Spock’s warm Vulcan body, and drifting off to sleep surrounded by the scents and feeling of him.