Paradise Found

As ever a great many thanks goes to Lucycantdance for betaing. Part of Plaidshirtjimkirk's Old Married Spirk challenge.

"_Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven."_

Though he was wearing his reading glasses Jim still had to strain his eyes to read the words, a clear indication that he had been reading for too long. Closing the book and putting it down in his lap, he pulled off his glasses and gently rubbed his eyes, musing over the line. It had always struck a cord in him, but he had never truly been able to tell if it was one of harmony or dissonance.

He stretched his hands over his head and placed his feet a bit closer to the blazing fire, making himself more comfortable. It was late winter and the day was cold, or at least as cold as San Francisco ever got, something Kirk had used as an excuse for his bout of romanticism in lighting the fireplace. Spock had only smiled, but though his mind was shielded Kirk could still imagine the Vulcan's mental _'illogical'_. His ageing knees appreciated it though, and he knew that Spock's joints did as well, even if the Vulcan would never say so out loud.

Closing his eyes, Jim let his thoughts drift back to 'Paradise Lost' and Lucifer, its protagonist.

He knew he possessed a certain degree of ambition and drive, one didn't get to be the youngest Starfleet captain in the history of the organisation without having those, but Lucifer's goal was to rule simply for the sake of ruling, without any other purpose. That kind of mindset had always puzzled him.

And as for the rebelliousness? He had always been more of a rule follower than most people thought. In general, rules and regulations were there for a damn good reason and to break them left and right did nothing but put everyone in unnecessary danger. But sometimes they needed to be, if not broken then at least bent. Rules were, after all, generalised by their very nature. It would be impossible to make a set of rules or laws that could take into account every possible scenario, so sometimes they had to be adapted or outright disregarded. Especially if one valued upholding their spirit, rather than their mere wording.

He opened his eyes and almost automatically his gaze fell on Spock, who was seated on the sofa, lost in reading diplomatic mail.

Kirk couldn't keep a grin off his face. Now there was someone who was rebellious, though people rarely thought of Spock as such. The Vulcan had taken a radically different path in life than the one others had intended for him to take. Nor did his rebelliousness end there; Spock had always gone his own way if he felt that doing so would achieve his goals more easily than playing by the rules. But Spock could hardly be said to be anything like Lucifer either, as he completely lacked any arrogance in his character. In fact he was the most unassuming person Jim had ever met. He had a pride in his abilities but not one that could not be supported by accomplishments.

Jim's grin transformed into a fond smile. Spock appeared to be unaware of Kirk's scrutiny, remaining absorbed by his task, and it was a rare thing that Jim got a chance to study his Vulcan unobserved. The flickering light of the flames danced across Spock's informal robes, painting reddish highlights in his hair.

Contemplating that well-loved face, Jim's smile fell. Spock's years at Gol had left deep lines on his face which his regeneration on Genesis had deepened, his hands too seemed more gnarled every time Jim got a chance to study them and the Vulcan's hair was beginning to grey.

Jim knew he wasn't a spring chick either, but then he was human not Vulcan, he was supposed to age at a faster rate. He always worried that all that Spock had been through would have a detrimental effect on his health. So every time Spock went to have a health check-up something tightened in Kirk's chest, and every time he came back with a clear bill of health it felt as if a stone dropped from his heart. So far all that had showed up was only what was to be expected in a Vulcan approaching middle-age, no serious health problems whatsoever, not even, to Jim's immense relief, a trace of the cardiovascular problems Spock's father had.

Even though he knew that he wouldn't be around for a good portion of it, he had always wished Spock a long and fulfilling life. He would have said happy instead of fulfilling but he knew what Spock would say to that.

"_Happiness is an aberrant state that only occurs briefly in any being and the pursuit of which often brings more unhappiness than joy to a person's life."_

He could practically hear the Vulcan's dry voice. Jim smiled again at the thought.

In that one respect they were both like Lucifer. Neither of them were cut out for perfect happiness, for Paradise. Though both he and Spock were idealists, trying to shape their world into something better than what they found, they were also incurable workhorses, neither one happy if left without something to do for too long. From the tastes he'd had of Paradise over the years he knew that all play and no work made him sullen and discontent all too quickly.

His gaze drifted once more and landed on the clock on the mantelpiece. Long past lunch time, no wonder his mind was drifting; it tended to do that when he was hungry.

Putting down his book and reading glasses on the coffee table, Kirk stood and went to the kitchen intent on making lunch. In the doorway he turned and cast a single look back at Spock.

_It really was an unjust galaxy where a person as special as his Vulcan would be ostracised simply for being born the way he was._ Spock might not pursue happiness, or even desire it, but if anyone in the world _deserved_ to be happy, it was him.

A mischievous grin spread on Jim's face. Maybe he could see to it that Spock's life was a little happier, at least tonight. He'd start by making that root vegetable soup that Spock loved.

Fifteen minutes later Kirk heard soft footsteps approach and turned his head to see Spock standing just inside the kitchen.

"It is, I believe, somewhat early to start dinner, Jim."

Jim flashed him a quick grin.

"Well I thought we could skip lunch, eat an early dinner instead and make an early night of it?"

"Indeed. May I ask why you wish to turn in early? You do not appear extraordinarily tired. In fact you appear quite wakeful."

"Well I just thought we might both enjoy it."

Spock raised one eyebrow.

"Jim, you are quite well aware that I need less sleep than you do and that there is, therefore, no reason for me to 'turn in early'."

Jim caught Spock's gaze with his own and held it as his smile grew wider. So the Vulcan was going to play hard to get.

"Who said anything about sleep, Spock?"

"What other use would we have for an early night?"

Jim stepped so close to Spock that their chests almost touched. He raised one hand and let it trace the shell of one ear from pointed tip to lobe causing a single shiver to run through the Vulcan.

"What indeed?" he murmured.

Spock's eyes slid shut and he leaned into the palm of Jim's hand. Jim in turn let his thumb softly caress the Vulcan's dry lips.

"Perhaps... it would be productive... if I concluded... my correspondence?"

"That depends entirely on whether you want to join me or not."

Taking hold of Kirk's wrist, Spock pressed a single kiss into the palm as a promise, then turned and went back to the sofa.

"Dinner's ready in twenty minutes," Jim called after him. Spock acknowledged the information with a nod.

Their meal was conducted in companionable silence. One of the many things Jim had always enjoyed about being with Spock was the effortless silences, the lack of need to fill the quiet with words.

After the table was cleared and the dishes washed, Jim went into the bedroom to get ready for the night. He could hear Spock filing away the last of his correspondence out in the living room.

His back was towards the door and he was removing his socks when he felt the Vulcan's approach. Spock had lowered his mental shields and Jim felt a wave of desire rushing through their bond, leaving him slightly breathless.

Spock stepped up behind him and his hands curled around Jim's shirt-clad shoulders, thumbs drawing small circles on his shoulder blades. The Vulcan bent his head and let his nose nuzzle Jim's curls. The human shivered at the feel of the Vulcan's cool breath ghosting over his skin. He raised his hands to unbutton his shirt, but Spock grasped his wrists and lowered Jim's hands to his sides and went back to massaging the human's shoulders.

"Spock?"

"Quiet." The Vulcan's voice was low, but the tone made it clear that the word was an order and it sent a thrill through Jim's mind. The Vulcan's displays of dominance were rare and irregular and always seemed to strike without warning, like lightning from a clear sky, but that just made Jim enjoy them even more when they did occur. He could feel Spock's tiny smile at his pleasure, as the Vulcan pressed his lips against his cheek.

Jim remained completely still as Spock undressed him, running his hands over the curve of the blond's belly and teasingly caressing the inside of his things. Though Jim didn't get erect as quickly as in his younger days, the soft teasing and Spock's constant mental caress was doing a good job of leaving him panting again.

_*Spock. Please.*_

"I told you to remain quiet."

_*Didn't specify that you meant mental communication as well,*_ Jim teased.

Abruptly Jim found himself whirled about and pushed down on the bed. The still fully dressed Vulcan towered over him with an ominous expression on his face, his mind suddenly unyielding. Stripping down until he was only wearing his trousers, Spock climbed onto the bed arranging Jim so he lay exactly in the middle.

_*Spock?*_

The Vulcan didn't answer. Instead he straddled Jim, lifted his arms and pinned them above his head with one hand.

"Be still, Jim. Whatever happens, do not move, do not speak in any way."

Jim nodded once, twisting his hands so they grabbed the pillow.

Leaning down and placing a single almost chaste kiss on Jim's lips, the Vulcan proceeded to use his mouth and hands to slowly take Jim apart, finishing by slowly fucking him into the mattress, leaving them both boneless and blissed-out in the aftermath.

Kissing Jim between the shoulder blades, Spock rose from the bed and went to the bathroom. Jim rolled, groaning, onto his back while he listened to the sounds coming from the other room. It had been a long time since the Vulcan had given him such a thorough workout. Returning with a wet wash cloth, Spock sat on the edge of the bed and proceeded to clean Jim up.

Reaching out and tugging on Spock's arm, Jim brought the Vulcan down so they were nose to nose. Cupping his husband's face Jim kissed him with all the pent up passion he had been unable to release during sex.

"Jim." The Vulcan's rumbling voice gave Jim a small frisson that made Spock raise one eyebrow as he felt it through their bond. "Do not tell me you wish to go again."

"Oh I wish it all right, I'm just not able. I'm not forty anymore," Jim chuckled. "So I'll settle for a cuddle."

"Let me return this," Spock indicated the wash cloth in his hand, "to its proper place and I shall join you."

When the Vulcan returned and lay down on the bed, Jim spooned around him, cuddling the Vulcan in his arms. As he drifted off his mind went once more back to the book he had been reading. No, he didn't want Paradise, he already had all the Paradise he needed right here with Spock. And he was more than content to let Vulcan rule if he so wished.


End file.
