Archive of Our Own

Spock was hot.

To anybody with eyes and even a passing knowledge of xenobiology, this was obvious. But, there's a difference between knowing something academically, observationally, or subconsciously, and knowing empirically, scientifically and personally through rigorous and demanding research.

Jim liked to consider himself a scientist, and a dedicated one. The variations and forms of the hotness embodied by his First comprised one of his primary fields of interest.

It started with a simple observation.

Spock. Meditating. Hot.

A hypothesis was formed.

Spock. Naked. Infinitely hotter?

He staged the experiment.

Pacing closer to his lover, he let the mounting lust unfurl across the breadth of their bond. His eyes lit on the ceremonial robes pooling between Spock's crossed legs. He reconstructed the shape and texture of the green tinted cock, lingering on the softness under the flushed and leaking tip, and projected it, vividly, into his lover's mind.

When the black silk stretched over Spock's lap twitched, he imagined himself kneeling over it, nuzzling the fabric and breathing in the full, musky scent of aroused Vulcan. He mouthed the swelling erection, moistening skin through cloth, tasted heat and slid his tongue along the pulse. He sent this through the link, adding his own approving grunts and flavouring them with desire.

Spock's eyes flew open, dark and intense as they tracked Jim's slow saunter.

"Hey, lover." He raked his eyes approvingly over his Vulcan, smiling in sham innocence. "Am I disturbing you?"

The corner of Spock's mouth quirked up slightly. "Constantly."

Jim's smile widened into a knowing grin. "I can go back to the bridge if you don't want to be interrupted."

Spock unfolded from his pose in one smooth motion, alien grace and control turning the simple act of standing into art. His erection was clearly outlined in the draping of his robes, jutting between them shamelessly. Jim's fingers twitched as he stared, transfixed.

Spock was hot. His theory was corroborated with this initial data point.

"I find that perhaps the time for meditation has passed." The low voice sounded amused, rumbling deep and throaty. Hot.

"I don't know. You looked pretty absorbed." Jim heaved a martyred sigh and turned for the door. "I'll just go back out and see what Bones is up to."

He made it three full steps before he was spun into a fierce kiss instead. Grinning under the assault, he licked his way between Spock's lips and gorged himself on the myriad of flavours. Plomeek soup and spiced tea shouldn't be so damned sexy, but, when accented with the dry heat of Spock's tongue, they were an aphrodisiac. He sighed his ecstasy into his Vulcan's mouth, allowing Spock to guide him back against the wall.

The inherent firmness of unyielding panels recalled their morning tryst in the shower. He shared that image of himself, shuddering wetly underneath Spock with the Vulcan purring Jim's name with every thrust.

Answering desire flared across their bond, and the delicate traces of Spock lit over Jim's thoughts to tease him with raw pleasure, building on it with torturous strokes. Jim was fully hard in seconds, straining at the seams of his already tighter than regulation uniform slacks.

Secondary confirmation received. Spock was scorching hot. The blaze of his lust, as he tore away Jim's shirt along with his reason, was compounded by the burning kisses pressed along the newly exposed flesh. Jim tilted his head back against the wall, simultaneously granting Spock free rein over his body and allowing the waves of heat to filter through him, drugging him with every stroke.

A lesser scientist might have considered two successful tests to be sufficient, but Jim was determined to prove, without doubt, that his First was hot bordering on a star going nova.

He thrust forward when the elegant hands paused at the fastening of his pants, encouraging the possessive grip on his hips. His own hands dove for the jut of Spock's cock and gripped firmly at the root, gloved in black robe. Every finger placed deliberately, so that Spock could feel every knuckle and indent through the fabric. His Vulcan had a thing for hands, Jim's hands in particular, and he generously fed that kink with an incremental tightening of each finger as he worked the silk to the tip.

Even, white teeth were scraping at his jaw and Jim turned his face to meet them. His bottom lip was seized and worried just at the point of pain. Jim had a thing for teeth, Spock's teeth specifically, and his lover indulged him with enthusiasm.

His dick was throbbing with neglect and anticipation. Jim writhed desperately, caught between a wall of steel and one of flesh, seeking friction. Reading his need through the bond (or perhaps forming some brilliant deductions of his own - Spock was a scientist too, after all!) his First ripped him free of his confinement, and Jim pressed himself against the smooth silk, a weak barrier that slid between him and the sculpted ridge of Spock's thigh with sensual sleekness.

He released his hold on Spock's erection, earning a disapproving growl before his questing fingers found the ties to his robes and snapped them loose. A gentle sweep of his arms had the fabric wafting to Spock's feet, revealing yards of pale, green tinted flesh, achingly perfect and breathlessly hot.

The third proof was finally enough for Jim, his hypothesis was solid. And hard. Pressing into him with heat made slick by virtue of replicated massage oil.

He analyzed the data with his forehead cushioned by his arms and gasped out his conclusion between the urgent thrusts burning inside him and fisting strokes along his length.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck yeah, Spock. You're so fucking hot."

An elegant summary.

Tonight's session would be recorded as Postulates on the Effect of Palpable Lasciviousness and Vertical Surfaces on the Heat Differential Between Human and Vulcan. A private study, likely never to be published in any journal of note, but a worthy one.