Flash Fiction Friday, August 18, 2017

Married Spirk is always welcome. This week’s prompt was a simple one: A Massage.

When the door to their quarters opened, Jim glanced up from the book he was reading. Spock stalked in. There was no other word for it. Jim could tell from his position on their bed that Spock was wound up tight.

“You okay?”

Spock shot him a look that was just short of incredulous. He did not even dignify Jim’s question with an answer, but rather went right to the wardrobe where he kept his Vulcan robes.

“Was he angry?”

“Vulcans do get angry.” His predictable response. Spock always fell back on predictability when he was ruffled.

“Disappointed?”

“There was a level of that,” Spock replied.

Spock had been forced to advise his father that they would not make their planned visit to New Vulcan for shore leave as originally planned. Starfleet had ordered them to explore another sector of the universe and it would mean they would be completely out of range. They’d had to select a new destination for the crew’s shore leave. Jim hadn’t been thrilled either for he knew Sarek had been anticipating their visit for some time.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You are not responsible for the change in plans.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry.” Jim knew that Sarek was not the only one who experienced some level of disappointment. If Jim could change it for Spock he would. He knew Spock hadn’t been able to see his father since the Enterprise had gone out again.

Spock had now changed into his softest brown robe, which was not the one he generally wore while meditating.

“No meditation tonight?” Jim asked.

“Negative. I do not need it.”

Jim suspected as agitated as his husband was that was not exactly true, but he was hardly about to argue. Any time Spock’s smelly incense wasn’t lit within their quarters was a win for Jim.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked as he set aside his book.

Spock shook his head and lifted the covers next to Jim, joining him in the bed. Which was also surprising. Spock generally spent some time attending to business at the terminal at their desk before coming to bed.

Jim watched him for a moment as he attempted to settle in. “I’m sorry.”

“You have already said that.”

He smiled a little at Spock’s gruff tone. “It really sucks.”

Spock had no response to that because, Jim suspected, he agreed it sucked but didn’t want to say it.

He tugged on his lip with his teeth. “Maybe I should have argued more.”

“T’hy’la, none of this is your fault and your repeated apologies are—”

“Pissing you off. I know.” Jim sighed. “You know what you need?”

“I am not prepared to have sexual intercourse tonight.”

He said it so primly that Jim had no choice but to smile.

“I’ll try to contain myself,” Jim said dryly.

“Jim—”

“I wasn’t talking about fucking, Spock. Though I think I could fuck it out of you.”

Spock narrowed his eyes.

“Lay on your stomach.”

Spock just stared at him.

“That’s an order.”

At that an eyebrow shot up. But Spock did not argue, for once, and turned over onto his stomach.

“Oh wait. I should have had you slide your robe off.”

“Jim—”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Spock, I’m not going to take advantage of you. Just do as you’re told.”

Spock lifted up and slipped his arms out of the sleeves of the robe and lowered it to his waist.

Jim put his hands on Spock’s back and pressed down gently.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a massage,” Jim explained. “And don’t say, Vulcans don’t like massages or you will be sleeping alone.”

Spock closed his eyes. “I was not going to say that.”

“Good.” He moved up to Spock’s shoulders and began to massage there.

“And I would not sleep alone.”

“No?”

“Wherever you went I would chase you down,” Spock murmured.

Jim smiled. “I know. And I’d be sure to be caught, too.”

“I know that as well.”

Jim continued to pinch, prod, and rub Spock’s back, neck and shoulders until his Vulcan was practically purring putty in his hands. Jim laughed.

Spock opened one eye. “What is amusing?”

“Practically purring putty.”

Spock closed his eye again. “I never entirely understand you.”

“But I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“You do indeed.”

Suddenly, Spock turned onto his back and ensnared the back of Jim’s neck with his hand, pulling a startled Jim’s lips down on his.

“Feel better?” Jim murmured against Spock’s very tasty lips.

“I am still disappointed,” his husband admitted. “But I do feel better.”

Jim readjusted himself so that his head lay on his husband’s chest. “Good. Computer, lights off.”

Spock kissed the top of Jim’s head. “Goodnight, T’hy’la.”

“Night, sweetheart.”