"Come!" Kirk ran a towel over his hair, then finger-combed through the residual damp.

The door opened. "The astrophysics report on nebula N-183, Captain." Spock offered over a padd.

Crossing from the shower to the entrance of his quarters, Kirk held out his hand. The towel around his waist slipped a little with the movement. He hesitated a split-second. "Something wrong, Mr. Spock?"

"No, sir." Spock surrendered the padd and locked his hands firmly behind his back.

Kirk regarded him up and down. "You looked...stressed, Spock." Kirk undid the towel and dropped it into the nearby chair in a manner that a stranger might mistakenly presume was casual. He kept his eyes on his first officer, noticeably not on the report.

Spock swallowed. "I am a Vulcan, not an android."

It was all the advantage Jim Kirk had ever needed. The padd made a sharp click as he set it down on the desk unviewed.  When he spoke, it was with the voice that had danced circles around Klingons, errant computers, and aliens of all descriptions. "I know that--better than anyone on this ship. Better than anyone anywhere, perhaps." Kirk closed the distance between them. "What I don't know, is what you want to do about it. I'm getting...mixed messages here, Spock. Help me out."

Spock nodded slowly. "Yes. No doubt you are, because what I want is not the issue. The deciding factor is my will, and what I will is what is logical. That must always be the case. As one who was raised Vulcan, the choice was ripped from me before I was old enough to choose."

"And if you could choose?" Kirk stepped closer. His affect spoke of one who already knew the answer.

"Irrelevant. Like all who embrace the ways of Vulcan, my will is much stronger than my want, and shall prevail."

"That's a shame," said Kirk, but he didn't sound too choked up about it. He took one more step closer--too close. Not even a stranger would have found that casual now. "And it's a shame that I wasn't raised Vulcan...because I can choose--I do choose--and what I will and what I want fall very closely together right now."

He grabbed Spock's hand and pressed it atop his respectable erection. "I can choose, and I do, for both of us. Unless you tell me not to." He whispered into his ear as he moved against the length of his body. He groaned involuntarily, then as if to quiet his unruly lips, he tipped his head up and kissed Spock fully on the mouth.

Jim let his right hand slide down the velour, down the hip and onto the bulge growing rapidly under the edge of the blue. With his left hand he took Spock's palm and placed it smack-dab where he wanted it, then gasped as the sensation became nearly too much.

Part of him wanted to make it last. Another part of him said fuck that: there would be other times to take it slowly. All of him wanted Spock to be in this with him, however, so he forced his mind from his own bodily responses and onto the work of his right hand.

"Jim." The word was muffled with Spock's lips predominantly engaged by Jim Kirk's tongue. Spock pried the hand from his own genitals, and gently but firmly bent the naked elbow backwards and away.

"Spock, I want to make you feel good," Jim said. He tried to replace his right hand, but it was like trying to fight duranium.

"Not like that; touch me here." Spock wrapped their fingers together.

The voice was so rough that Jim scarcely recognized as Spock's, but he didn't have time to think on that. In a flash, Jim's mind exploded with a million erotic sensations and images of things he wanted--or Spock did--or had done, or would do. The difference didn't matter; it all amounted to the same thing in this here and now. He tried to funnel them into some manageable flow, but that was like trying to rope a supernova and, with a strangled cry, he came and collapsed into Spock's arms.

When Spock withdrew his fingers, Jim could see again. He drew back just a little, not entirely trusting his own legs alone. His eyes questioned Spock, who appeared much as he had when he entered: a little more disheveled, perhaps, but a great deal less...stressed.

Jim searched for something to say in a moment like this. He found none, and so he fell back on the routine that had served them well enough so far. "I thought it was illogical to act on desires." The teasing tone came reflexively with the comment; the note of tender affection was a fully conscious addition.

"It is. But if the desire acts as an outside force that requires more time and energy to combat than to succumb to, then logic dictates that the path of least resistance be taken. "

Kirk blinked in disbelief. "You're saying I'm...convenient?"

Spock straightened his stained uniform as best he could. "I assure you, that is one of the last words I would choose. I am saying you are--insuperable."

Jim chuckled and stroked a finger across Spock's palm "That report--" Jim nodded to the desk, but the nod lacked much of his usual enthusiasm.

"Is non-urgent and can easily wait until tomorrow."

"Good. It looks like I need another shower." Kirk reached over for his abandoned towel.

"As do I."

Kirk looked him over: yes, he did. "Do you want to go first?"

"No. " Spock held out his hand. Kirk took it and the briefest flicker of what had been sparked between them. The nice thing about this kind of sex, Kirk reflected, is that there was no limit as to how many times someone could get fingers up in one night. He let go the hand long enough for Spock to undress, and then together they figured out how to make the narrow shower work for two.