© 1998 Marlene Taylor
Disclaimer: This original work of amateur fiction is based on the TV series "Star Trek" which is owned by Paramount, Viacom, and whoever owns them. This not-for-profit piece of fan fictionis not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work
**
James Kirk woke slowly, letting himself drift out of a dream into his body. A warm, honey-sweet breeze tickled his nose and the unique spicy scent reminded him where he was: Risa. As awareness crept back into his skin, the alien heat beside him reminded him of something else.
Spock. Finally. After all these years they had finally come together in this place made for pleasure and love, and it had been perfect - no, better than perfect: their first night together had been stars and zephyrs and music, everything in the galaxy all at once. Kirk had arrived on this beautiful planet daring to hope only for pleasure; but in the darkness of the Risan night he had found love.
He opened his eyes to the gentle pink morning light and turned to look at his Vulcan lover, still sleeping peacefully on his side - not surprising, since the chron told him they'd been asleep for a scant three hours. Spotting the half-empty bottle of AstroGlide(TM) on the night table, Kirk grinned as he savored the memory of what had kept them up so late. Now they had a whole week ahead of them, with nothing to do but explore. Together. Better make myself presentable, Kirk thought as he eased quietly out of the huge Comfy-Down(TM) bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom.
The sight that greeted him in the mirror was not a pretty one. The twenty-second and a half century and they *still* can't make mascara that doesn't smear. Kirk sometimes wondered whether the social rule that required men to wear cosmetics was actually engineered by women as revenge for centuries of spike-heeled shoes. Frankly, he liked the way his custom-blended eye shadow brought out the hazel in his eyes, and that blush sure gave him more cheekbones than he had been born with. Maybe he did go a little heavy on the mascara, but so what? He was the captain, and the crew expected him to be larger than life. But he made a mental note to tell Sulu to tone down his eyeliner; the helmsman was beginning to remind him of Uhura.
As Kirk rinsed the last of the fragrant soap suds away, he wondered again how Spock managed to keep that blue eyeshadow of his from smearing or fading. Not once in the three years they'd served together had Spock ever appeared less than perfectly groomed, even after wind and rain and nights spent sleeping on the ground. The fact that Vulcans wore makeup at all had surprised him at first, but as he got to know Spock (and, later, Sarek) he realized that their polished image was just as important to them as their logic. What more logical way to maintain that image than with cosmetics?
Kirk regarded himself in the mirror once again. His chin was rough with stubble, but he decided he was sexier that way; he had scrubbed away every trace of raccoon eyes; teeth were clean, breath minty; his hair was still straight on his head, though the SkinGlu(TM) that held it on was at the end of its life. That was another thing they'd have to talk about today. Spock hadn't seemed to care at all when Kirk had revealed the Slim-So- Soon(TM) belt he had to wear when his weight crept up past the upper limit McCoy had set for him; he merely said, "You will not be needing clothes again soon, Jim," and continued to trail hot kisses down Kirk's chest, over his round belly, to his impatient erection. Spock never even noticed that Kirk was a good two inches shorter without his boots on.
But the hair...that was different. A bald captain of the Enterprise? What crew would follow a bald captain into action?
Kirk sighed. Spock would understand.
And there *was* something Spock needed to explain.
He crawled back between the pale silky sheets and slipped an arm around the sleeping Vulcan. A quick glance told him that morning wood was not restricted to humans: the olive-green head of Spock's impressive hard-on peeked out at him from under the edge of the covers. By pulling at the sheets ever so slightly Kirk managed to reveal the twin flared ridges and then the thick shaft, which disappeared into the shadows beneath the bunched-up material.
"Jim." The deep baritone, gravelly with sleep, issued from the opposite side of the bed. "If your intention is to awaken me, I am already awake. If, however, you are merely attemping to gain a better view, I would be happy to oblige." With that, Spock rolled onto his back and threw the sheets aside, stretching to his full height, and regarded Kirk with a look that could generously be described as smug.
Kirk swallowed several times before he could answer. "Well...up early, aren't we?" he tried, glancing down at his own rapidly growing excitement. "I don't know how you do it, Spock. That Vulcan stamina of yours ...I'm impressed." Gazing again at the green monster rising up before him, he remembered how good it had been to run his tongue over the satiny tip, around and around those delicate double ridges, and finally to take as much of the throbbing cock into his mouth as he could. No square centimeter of that majestic member had gone unexplored. And that was when he discoverd that Vulcan semen tasted faintly of cinnamon.
The sun began to slant in through the open balcony doors, turning the room rosy. Now that you've seen it in daylight, you know your tongue wasn't lying, Kirk told himself. Better ask him now, before I bring up the hair. But first a little charm to smooth the way.
Dragging his eyes away from the object of his ruminations, Kirk looked deeply into Spock's dark eyes and turned on his most winning smile. "Spock...do you know that you are the most beautiful creature in the galaxy? I could look at you all day."
"If that is what you desire," Spock replied dryly. "For myself, I would prefer to attempt several interesting variations of last night's activities. We have experienced together only eight different sexually stimulating acts, and there are many hundreds left to try," he concluded, reaching out to caress the golden skin of Kirk's shoulder.
Here goes. "Wait. Spock, there's something I've been meaning to ask you." Kirk let his smile fade.
"Indeed?"
"Well, it's a very... *intimate* question. I don't want to offend you."
"Jim, I have been intimate with you in a way I have never been with anyone before. I will answer any question as long as it is only *one* question. We are wasting valuable time." By now Spock was massaging Kirk's chest, pausing frequently to tweak the hard, ruddy nipples lightly between his powerful fingers.
"Spock, you're...well, you don't have a foreskin. You're circumcised."
"As are you, Jim."
"I know why *I'm* cut. Jewish people on Terra still observe religious rites. And it's not like I mind...those ridges are something to look at. But I didn't think there were any Jews on Vulcan," he laughed.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "That assumption would be in error."
"I don't understand..." Kirk frowned.
"When the Twelve Tribes of Israel were colonizing the galaxy, Terra was not the only planet they visited." Spock delivered this startling information in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he were recording a dull planetary survey. "There were Jews on Vulcan long before they arrived on Earth. Surak welcomed them."
"But how did they - where did they - " he broke off, in confusion.
"Information on their origins is not recorded. The Jewish colony that landed on Vulcan did not try to convert the native population. But Vulcans are a naturally curious race, and the colonists were happy to start teaching them about being Jewish. Soon they were keeping kosher, and having brises when their sons were born, and observing the High Holy Days, and refraining from work on the Shabbes. It is much easier to keep kosher when you are vegetarian," Spock added.
"And now? Vulcan religious beliefs aren't in any official record."
"It is not something we willingly share with outsiders. Belief is a highly personal matter." Spock appeared more interested in tracing the curve of Kirk's chin with one delicate fingertip than he was in the conversation.
"What about those priestesses in the temples? Don't tell me that they're rabbis in drag..."
Spock just looked at him.
"But surely Vulcans have some way of recognizing other Jews?"
Spock sighed impatiently. "You yourself have discovered one way, Jim." The glistening tip of his pulsing shaft nudged Kirk's hand, seeking attention. "You were born Jewish, yet you do recognize the most basic symbol of the faith?" He raised his left hand in the traditional Vulcan salute.
Kirk gazed at the space between Spock's split fingers. "I was born Jewish, but I wasn't raised Jewish. I've only been to synagogue a few times, and that was when my grandmother took me. Remember, Spock, even though most of the Northern Hemisphere was involved in the Great Jewish Conversion of 2010, a lot of people weren't so diligent about keeping up the faith...humans aren't as - " he decided not to say anal-retentive " - tenacious as Vulcans." He continued to stare at Spock's hand, feeling that he *had* seen that gesture before, but where? And when?
Suddenly it came to him: a blessing! A vague, hazy memory of the rabbi holding up both hands over the congregation, his fingers split between the second and third fingers. His grandmother had warned him that he wasn't supposed to look, but being Jimmy Kirk, he *had* to look.
"I understand..at least, I think I do. Spock, this is all so unbelievable - what you've just told me changes everything I thought I knew..."
"Jim. It changes nothing. We are here. All that matters is that we now share something deeper than physical desire and romantic love. We share our spirituality. We are members of the same tribe. Does that not please you?" he asked gently, eyes full of concern.
"Of course it does. It pleases me no end." Spock's grip on his softening penis brought his attention back to the situation at hand. "You're right," he said, a little breathlessly. Damn, my cock feels like it's in a heating pad. "We can, ah, talk about this later."
Just then he felt the adhesive give way and his hair begin to slide. One false move and it was all over. One down, two to go, James T.
"Spock? Spock!" he gasped. "I have to tell you - that is, I want you to know - now - about - "
"Your hair? I know." A hot tongue was now circling his navel.
"You do?" Kirk pulled away in surprise, knocking the Fantasti- Hair(TM) piece completely off his head.
"Everyone knows. No one cares," the Vulcan replied, his voice muffled in Kirk's armpit.
No one cares...Hell's bells, if they didn't care about the hair, maybe he could throw away that jar of foundation, too! And yet....
"Spock, one more question..." Kirk tried not to let the feel of Spock's hot lips urgently nuzzling his throat distract him.
"Yes, Jim, what is it? I do not wish to spend this morning discussing religion and hair."
"How do you keep your eye makeup so perfect?" he blurted out, determined to solve at least one mystery today.
"That is a matter of which no Vulcan may speak. It is a highly personal thing, not to be shared with outworlders..." Spock drawled lazily, working his fingers into the cleft in Kirk's ass.
"Spock, I -" Abruptly he realized he'd fallen for it. Spock, joking with him! "I do believe you're teasing me, mister." He grinned at the Vulcan and was rewarded with the tiniest movement at the corner of his mouth. Kirk knew he was happier than he'd ever been in his life, even without the hair.
"Spock, today I am a man."
"T'hy'la."
"Buhbelah."