Title: Nine Lost Lives

Author: Saavant

Contact: saavaant @ yahoo . com

Series: TOS

Rating: [Explicit]

Codes: K/S

Part: 1/1

Summary: Spock has just been regenerated. Will he remember Kirk?

Archive: Yes please.

Disclaimer: I disclaim Star Trek characters. I disclaim having invented them. I disclaim to be profiting monetarily from writing about them. I am not Roddenberry. I am not Paramount. I am Saavant. So There.

Note: The title is from kira-nerys's Title Ideas page. Thank you, Kira, for inspiring my first real K/S story.




He was back. Spock was finally home.

It had been so long, so much time spent waiting, tortured, impatient. Almost worse than when he had been dead. Then, at least, there had been some certainty, even if it had been the certainty that Jim would never see his lover again, which hovered on the edge of being unbearable. But even worse was the thought of Spock with his mind damaged... stripped of all the knowledge and skills he had spent a lifetime learning... robbed of the memories he and those who loved him had built together...

Not remembering Jim.

*Jim. Your name is Jim.* He had said it, but only the name, only that and the last words they had spoken to each other. Would he remember what they had been to each other? The "closest friends" who had stood together at Koon-ut-kalifee? The confession afterwards, quiet and hesitant, as if of a shameful thing (would love always have to be so shameful, so hidden with his Vulcan?) that he wanted his captain, that he could not stand, for another day, to live this life where Jim might be torn from him at any moment, without sharing this deepest secret as they shared everything else with each other? Would he remember the way he had tensed and closed his eyes as soon as the words were out, as if preparing to be attacked, and the kiss Jim had laid on his lips instead?

"There are always difficulties," the Seleyan healer had warned him. Changes that could shatter his whole life were just difficulties to her. Difficulties, like a slip of the mind, some tiny mistake in the endless melds that were re-connecting Spock's soul piece by piece back to the brain into which the fal-tor-pan had thrust it. Difficulties like a tendril of consciousness tied to the wrong nerve, the wrong part of a frontal lobe; difficulties like a whole section of life deleted from memory, or buried like a repressed trauma so that some completely unrelated stimulus would be needed to bring it back, and no one would ever know what that key was until it happened by accident, or maybe never.

Would he remember? Would he remember when they had crushed each other in that first awkward embrace, the desperation of hands clutching, mouths ravaging one another, legs intertwining? The exquisite agony of feeling each other hard and throbbing, pressed tightly between trembling hips, moving, thrusting uncontrollably, until they came together for the first time before they could even undress? The hours and hours that had followed, exploring each other's bodies, finding the touches that could pull forth a harsh groan, an involuntary arching of the back, a beautiful contortion of serene features? The years they'd had together?

And then the second pon farr come on too early, Jim's injuries, Spock unable to accept the reassurances... running off into the cold arms of the Kolinahr, able to think of nothing but cutting out his sexuality, sparing Jim that violence at any cost. Learning disciplines of meditation that he drew on years later, in his next two blood fevers, struggling through them and just barely making it, refusing Jim's offers vehemently, even knowing that every pon farr he subjugated with the mind rules meant less chance of overcoming the next one in the same way. If he had achieved Kolinahr he would have been spared the drives of his biology completely, but their bond had been too strong.

Would he remember the endless pull that had torn at each of their minds, as the half-human had tried to purge his psyche of emotion and the captain had tried to live behind a desk? The time they had spent needing each other, crying, coming in their sleep, until a last straw named V'Ger broke the determination of a Vulcan? The knowledge that when T'Sai spoke of the consciousness calling him from the stars, the living machine about to destroy Earth was only part of what she meant?

The handclasp in Sickbay, when everything--why he had fled to Gol, what had brought him back, the certainty that he would never leave again--was suddenly, finally understood...

*Would he remember?*

It was time to find out. Spock was home.

* * *

"Spock, we are in love," James T. Kirk said aloud as he paced his empty quarters, the bare chambers built and furnished for Klingons and so grating on his human sensibilities.

"Spock, we were in love," he tried, then shook his head savagely and tried again.

"Spock, as you may recall, we have been something more than friends..."

"Spock, do you remember what there was between us?"

"Spock, before you died..."

*What* was he going to say to him? All Jim wanted to do when Spock came to his cabin for the chess game they had scheduled in five minutes was to leap on him and make violent love to him for hours and hours, but if Spock didn't even remember they had been in a sexual relationship...

*I am a grown man. I am James T. Kirk. I do not have to have him the instant he gets inside my cabin.*

If they still had a friendship--Kirk wasn't willing to ruin that. Even if Spock's feelings for him remained, it would certainly shock him to be touched and spoken to as if they'd been lovers for years, if he didn't remember... and for all the eloquence that had served so well in the diplomacy of captaining the Enterprise, Jim couldn't for the life of him decide how to bring the matter up.

*Will I actually have to wait until he lets me know himself?*

The thought seemed unbearable, he was so desperate to love his Vulcan in every possible way. Even the five minutes till Spock would walk into his room--three minutes now--felt like an impossible length of time. Kirk went to the door and opened it to peer out into the hall...

...and, after a space of maybe two seconds, found himself on the floor, on his back, pinned by the weight of a very strong, very hot, and very aroused Vulcan male who was assaulting his face in the most intense kiss he'd ever experienced.

"*Yes*," Kirk groaned into Spock's mouth, grabbing the dark head and matching his mate's enthusiasm. The Vulcan's only answer was a long, low growl as he straddled Jim's thighs and rubbed his swollen groin against the human's, against his stomach, his chest, his throat, finally pushing directly into Jim's face an enormous erection, barely held in by wet and straining cloth and radiating such heat that Kirk almost feared to touch it.

"*Please*," Spock moaned at last, hands on Jim's shoulders, legs sprawled across him, knees scraping the floor on either side of his chest, head flung back in agony, aching flesh leaping under the ministrations of Jim's hands as he pulled down the trousers and underwear and looked with awe on the sight he had spent every moment since Spock's death longing to see again. His t'hy'la's aroused sex--throbbing and pulsing, both ridges flared and swollen, blood-green and so long and thick and hard--he could almost feel it inside him and the thought almost made him come right then, he wanted--

"*Now*!" his lover was screaming. "Now, oh please, now..."

And now was not enough time for what Jim wanted, so he simply seized the Vulcan hips and pulled the beautiful organ deep into his mouth, barely taking the time to taste the slick wetness coating it from base to tip, or savor the texture of the double ridge, the things he had always loved about doing this for Spock. There would be time later. Right now--all the way down his throat, until his chin could feel the tightness and twitching of the scrotum and the smell of short black Vulcan curls was thick in his nostrils... oh, Spock was burningly hot, but Jim didn't care if he burned, he loved the sensation as he loved everything Spock did to him, as he had loved the roughness of pon farr even while it left him with cuts and bruises and abrasions that had shamed Spock all the way to Gol and Kolinahr...

But that didn't matter now. Spock was *here*-- in his face, in his mouth, with pants half pushed down his thighs and hands wrapped around Jim's head as he thrust uncontrollably, frantically, slippery with semen and natural lubricant and tasting incredible and groaning inarticulately when Jim swallowed and contracted his throat muscles around him...

"Yes! Ahhh... oh, Jim, *yes*!" Spock didn't last long. It had been only seconds before he threw back his head and exploded down his t'hyla's throat with a rough scream of pleasure, the convulsions of orgasm running through him repeatedly as he clasped Kirk's head against his groin and bucked into his mouth over and over and over again...




They lay tangled together for many moments before they gained the energy to shift their positions somewhat, and Jim's mouth let go of Spock's sex almost reluctantly as he moved to look at his bondmate.

Oh, the sight of the beautiful Vulcan lying there, still hard, his hands clenched, his head twisting back and forth impatiently. Even as age had carved lines into Spock's face and softened the slender curves of his body, arousal always made the years seem to fall away... his features were just as beautiful when contorted in need as they had been that first night, the muscles of his torso just as lean and hard when tense with desire. Feline grace, a sleek predator in motion.

"I guess I shouldn't have worried," Kirk said, grinning.

Spock only moaned softly, arching his back as fresh lubricant poured from between his ridges and a stream of semen leaked down from the tip. "Jim, I need you again. Please."

Kirk's brows went up. "Spock, you're not... Are you?"

"Yes!" Half-groan, half-growl, a violent, anguished sound. "Yes, I am! Are you satisfied? Now help me, or leave, but do not torture me so!"

"Oh, no, Spock," said Jim with a seductive smile, "I'm not going to torture you, and I'm not satisfied." And his pants were off as fast as he had ever managed it, and he was on his hands and knees, glancing back provocatively over his shoulder at the Vulcan rising from the floor, looking more like a predator every moment. "Take me."

Heart racing, groin throbbing, he found himself tense with nearly equal measures of anticipation and fear as Spock moved swiftly to mount him. How could he not fear being hurt, when the last time Spock had hurt him it had driven him to Seleya, to the caves of Kolinahr, to frigid acolytes wielding their disciplines like scalpels to cut out his passions? But they had promised each other...

And when the strong legs settled to either side of his, the fevered and trembling body laid itself across his back, the steel-muscled arms clutched his chest and the blisteringly hot shaft finally plunged inside, fear and everything else was reduced to searing pleasure. He knew there must be pain, but he couldn't separate it from the rest of the sensations--the silken fur and heated skin of the other's chest dragged up and down his spine... the labored groans of pleasure in his ear... the ridged head stroking rapidly over his deepest erogenous zones... and the bond now opening so he could feel everything the Vulcan was feeling, his own cool tightness, the solidness of his body underneath him, the complete and utter ecstasy of relief as burning mind and flesh found mind and flesh to ease the burning, as the fire of Jim's love fought the fire of Spock's need and both blazed high and strong in the rhythm of their synchronized thrusting. It was over almost as soon as it had begun, Jim's orgasm bursting in violent spasms all over the floor beneath him, Spock screaming with the contractions of muscle around him and coming till his semen overflowed its sheath.


Kirk awoke to find that they were tangled up in each other where they had fallen, Spock still buried inside him, Jim twisted in an impossible way with his arms around the other's back, legs twined together, mouths touching, aching all over. He sighed happily and shifted to make himself as comfortable as he could get without significantly changing position.

Again, the flash of fear shot through him. Would Spock run away again when he noticed the soreness where he had penetrated Kirk, the bites between his neck and shoulder, the bruises where Vulcan strength had clutched so tightly? Pain was as exquisite as pleasure when it was Spock who brought it, but could that ever be made clear to the gentle Vulcan, who had been raised to do everything possible to prevent the suffering of others, whose people had not experienced war in millennia, who would not eat the flesh of the lowest of animal life forms? Even if he knew from his bondmate's mind that he had pleased Kirk far more than he had hurt him, could Spock endure the guilt?

The human heart fluttered anxiously as the Vulcan eyes slowly opened. But a small smile was the only reaction to his nervous glance, that and a murmured "Jim."

"Are you... do you need me again?" Kirk offered, stroking the dark hair gently. "It's okay, if you do."

"I am able to wait some time yet. You are most proficient at satisfying my needs." Spock kissed him softly on the lips, and moved until they were in a more comfortable position, lying side by side, facing each other. Basking in Jim's presence, running a strong hand up and down his arm, Spock couldn't break their eye contact, and they gazed at each other silently for a long time before he spoke again.

"During the re-integration of body and katra, most memories had to be brought back by the connection, through melds, of each part of my living spirit with the part of my brain to which it had been connected in my... previous life. Some of these connections failed, due to changes in my physical structure brought on by the Genesis effect, or changes in my katra from its time residing with Dr. McCoy, and therefore there is some information I shall have to learn over again." Spock paused and looked more deeply into Jim's eyes. "I wish to assure you, however, that all the connections responsible for memories I have of you, and our relationship, re-formed on their own."

Jim's heart swelled with emotion. "Oh, Spock..."

"Our bond has survived death, t'hy'la. Our souls, not our bodies, are permanently linked. Even when my genetically inherent personality and the experience of my short time on Genesis joined to form an additional soul existing alongside the older one..."

"You have two souls?" Kirk interrupted, jumping to his feet.

"Perhaps it is better understood as a memory," Spock explained, standing up to face him, "but a repressed one, for the healers of Seleya wished to spare me the confusion of remembering myself as I was then. They could not eliminate it, but they buried it deeply. I have no conscious awareness of it; however, I am told that during the re-connection, it, too, developed a link similar to the one my primary soul possesses. Both my katras are bonded to you, Jim."

"That's amazing. Did you think about me when you were on Genesis?" Kirk smiled at the Vulcan over his shoulder as he led the way to the bed.

"To my knowledge, that katra's memories of our relationship first formed when it found itself sharing a body with..." Spock's sentence was cut off by a violent shudder as his flesh suddenly and without warning leapt to full erection and a flush of heat washed over his entire body. "Oh... Oh, Jim..."

"It's all right. Come here." Kirk pulled Spock down on the bed and soon they were writhing in ecstasy, rubbing frantically against each other and moaning softly in near-agony. *I can't believe I almost forgot what he feels like,* was among Jim's last coherent thoughts. But no memory could capture the sensation of that Vulcan shaft sliding against his own, hard as iron and soft as velvet, wet with lubricant and pre-ejaculate and stroking him with those incredible ridges and *so hot...*

Before they knew it they were splattered all over with come, and gasping to catch their breath. Spock fell heavily to the mattress beside his bondmate, Jim stretched and sighed in satisfaction.

"So you were saying?"

"I was?"

"About your new katra."

"Ah, yes." Spock began to shed his semen-soaked clothing, knowing he might very well not get another chance to do so for quite some time.

Kirk watched his motions with admiration as the Vulcan arched his body out of the red uniform tunic and cast it to the floor. "You're like a cat."

"I fail to comprehend the comparison. My ears..."

"No," laughed Jim, taking the chance to divest himself of his own shirt, "there's only a slight resemblance about the ears, I'll grant you that. I meant the way you move, so graceful." He threw the shirt to the floor and moved to help the Vulcan with his boots. Spock had been so desperate, he hadn't even taken those off. *A cat in heat,* Jim thought, smiling to himself. "And besides, you seem to have nine lives."

"I have only died and been regenerated *once*," Spock protested, then gasped as hands settled on his buttocks and began removing the trousers that had been pushed out of the way only enough to allow him release in Jim's mouth.

"More than most of us have." A quick kiss on the inside of Spock's thigh.

"And I am unfamiliar with any connection between cats and resurrection."

"Oh, cats are very clever at keeping themselves alive," Kirk explained, sliding the pants tantalizingly slowly down Spock's legs. "They tend to wander, and run into all sorts of dangerous situations. But they know their way around, and they're excellent fighters and tree climbers, and if they fall from a great height, they can turn themselves over before they hit the ground and land upright. So a cat might disappear for weeks and then come home one day quite casually... or one might go into a yard with a vicious dog and show up later without a scratch on him... or you might have one fall out the window of your twentieth-floor apartment and go downstairs to pick him up, only to see him walking around as if he'd just stumbled off the curb. It's not surprising humans developed that legend about their having lots of lives."

"Why nine, specifically?" Spock was breathing heavily now, but still in control. "Surely a number more congruous with your numerical system, such as ten, or one hundred..."

"Oh, who knows," said Kirk, pulling the Vulcan's trousers and briefs off over his feet and tossing them on top of their shirts on the floor. "Why seven?"

"If--you are referring--to the Vulcan cycle," Spock panted as Kirk settled himself between the parting legs, "it is--biological--and we are--not--responsible for--the choice--of that particular--number. Aaaahhh..."

The cool human hands had tightened around his burning hot member and were sliding up and down, becoming slippery with the fluids leaking from it. "Oh, please, Jim, more. Yesss..."

And suddenly the slick fingers were inside him, preparing him roughly, impatiently, and he leaned back, threw his legs wide open and gave a silent scream.

"I'm almost there," the silken voice assured him, and then he was being eased back on the bed, and Jim was on top of him, and that human hardness was entering him, filling him, pushed inside him so tightly--oh, it had been too long...

His head fell to the side, strong legs wrapped around Jim's waist, and a desperate sound was pulled from his throat. "Ohhhhh... please, Jim, harder. Harder!"

And Jim was moving, hard and fast, with short, loud groans as he pounded into his lover, feeling the echo of himself entering him from behind, and once more it was all over too quickly, bodies tensing and stiffening, one shudder, both men feeling the clamp of muscles around sensitive flesh, the quick, hard burst of fluid within, the wetness exploding on their chests and stomachs, the drift into exhausted stillness.


"To get back to our discussion..." It was Jim's voice that spoke first, lazily.



"About cats?"

"Maybe. I can't remember." The golden laugh teasing Spock's ear.

"About nine. And seven."

"Oh, yes. Seven." A sleepy kiss. "It isn't the right time, is it? I mean, the time before you left for Gol was almost sixteen years ago, and then there were the two times you got through it with that meditation rite, and it's only been..."

"I had been meaning to mention that to you."


"When I... died...last year, I was fifty-five years old."

"You look great for your age. I always told you that."

"Vulcans have a longer lifespan than humans."

"I know. Go on."

"I am now seventy years old."

"What? You said last year you were fifty-five."

"Technically, I am not older than fifty-five. In fact, technically I am less than one year old. In this body."

"Weird. I never thought of it that way."

"However, my aging on the Genesis planet was such that by the time I was taken far enough away from it to escape its effect on me, I had reached the equivalent of seventy years."

"Huh. You still look great for your age."

"Thank you."

"So that's why it's... your time now."

"In part. I also experienced my... time... more than once while on the Genesis planet."

That got Kirk's attention. *Oh, no... no. Who? Saavik? David? No...*

"I have spoken with Saavik, and she explained what occurred. The first time, she attempted to... help me... but due to certain aspects of the Genesis effect, I passed through it before... anything could happen. I also passed through the next eight times undamaged, and far more quickly, as my aging was subject to rapid acceleration."

"Eight times! You went through...you went through it nine times down there?"

"Yes. The main factor behind death in one's Time is the subjection to extended periods of physical and emotional stress. While I was undergoing this on Genesis, the lengthiest of these periods was only hours long, becoming exponentially faster with each instance, and none of them had any more effect on my well-being than one of such length would have on me now."

"But it could have been different! Do you realize how lucky you are? The Genesis effect could have been set up so that a ten-second pon farr equivalent in your aging pattern to three weeks would've had the same effect on you as those three weeks!" Pon farr. In his horror, Jim had forgotten even to substitute a euphemism. "You could have gone through nine deadly pon farrs, too fast for Saavik to help you, if she even noticed them! Nine times you could have..."

"My nine lives lost, Jim?" Spock had rolled his mate over on the bed and settled himself atop him, hard and ready once more. "One only dies once."

"Unless one is you. You're the exception to everything, Spock. How did I ever get to deserve such an exceptional person in my life?"

"By being a very exceptional person yourself, t'hy'la," Spock growled, pulling Jim's legs over his shoulders as he positioned himself to enter. "I am honored to share my Time with one such as you."

"I'm honored too. Please. Now."

And Spock obeyed, entering his mate in one quick, hard thrust. It hurt--it couldn't help but hurt, after the violence of the first penetration, and how long it had been since they'd last done this. But through the bond Kirk could see that it would be all right. Spock had learned from his attempt at Kolinahr that there was no use in running away, and he could certainly feel in Kirk's mind that he was causing as much pleasure as pain. He was naturally lubricated; there was a tissue regenerator in the bathroom adjoining their quarters; they had several weeks' leave. Everything would be all right.

"Harder," Kirk begged, and Spock slammed into him, harder, faster, roaring in the incredible pleasure of slaking his Need. Their bond was wide open, flaming between them, Kirk feeling Spock feeling Kirk feeling Spock in an endless rippling of sensations as if they were not two bondmates but an infinite number, and each one was all the others at once.

They were flying, burning, melting, out of control and absolutely loving it, the two of them fusing together so closely that neither could tell which one he was, and they didn't care. T'hy'la, soul-brothers, loving and beloved, bonded forever, never parted, always touching, exploding in a supernova of white-hot flame.




Afterwards, they lay in a loose embrace, stroking each other's hands and faces lightly.

"They say time flies when you're having fun," Jim murmured with a little grin, "but you're the exception to that, too. Your 'times' feel like they last a lifetime."

"Then prepare yourself for nine lost lives," Spock whispered, his erection already jabbing Kirk in the thigh again.

"You mean this one will be nine times as long as the last one I had with you?" said Kirk eagerly.

"Technically, it will be nine separate ones. Not one of the... experiences... I endured on Genesis was consummated, and my body kept a record of that. Re-connection to my katra triggered my physiology's response to what it apparently perceived as a need to... I believe the Terran phrase is 'make up for lost time.'"

"I wish I had nine lives to spend with you," Kirk declared, opening to his lover's invasion. "And not one of them would be lost, in my opinion."






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