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The two men were sprawled across the bed in the captain's quarters, as the ship began to switch over for the third shift. During the day, either the captain or his first mate were typically stationed on the bridge to monitor the crew and flight path. Therefore, the late hours of the night were when Kirk and Spock could relieve their eyes from the countless buttons on the control panels and instead focus on each other.
Jim felt the steady rise and fall of his t’hy’la’s chest under his cheek as he drew lazy circles on the broad muscles of Spock´s abdomen. Jim had been with other humanoids of course, but the sensation he had while touching Spock was intoxicating, most likely because of how important the sense was in Vulcan culture. There were few humans who understood the feeling of ozh’esta, and Kirk was always proud to say that he was one of them.
Spock could sense the discomfort Jim felt at all the points where their skin met, smooth face on bare chest, strong fingers splayed out across stomach. Despite his discomfort with his own expression of emotions, over his years interacting with humans in Starfleet, he had learned it is essential for humans to discuss their problems when they arise. “Is something troubling you Jim?” Spock questioned, his voice gravelly with drowsiness.
Jim stopped the languid motion of his fingers, and instead began kissing down the hair leading to Spock’s navel. “I feel as if you know everything about me. You knew I was thinking of something, I mean.” Jim always portrayed himself as poised and suave, although when in the safety of Spock’s arms he could be found rambling much more than he ever would on another part of the ship. “You know about my childhood, my brother. You are the person closest to me in all of the galaxies. Yet, I still don't know your first name.”
Despite his stoicism, Spock was taken aback slightly. “It is illogical for me to tell you as I guarantee you will not be able to pronounce it. It is impossible to form the sounds with a human tongue.”
Jim had always loved a challenge, “I have heard you say this before, Mr. Spock. However, I am a very decorated starfleet captain, very qualified.” With a defiant grin, he chuckled, ¨try me.”
“S’Chn T’Gai Spock. That is my given name.” He stroked Jim´s golden hair, winding his long fingers around the natural waves.
“Shing TiGai Spock, wait no” Jim began, tracing English letters untranslatable to the Vulcan language on Spock's stomach.¨Sichin Tygaa… Tygah. Again. Slower this time please.¨
“S’Chn T’Gai” Spock repeated, a glimmer of a smile in his eyes.
Jim´s face scrunched up in concentration, ¨Schin… Sichin… S’Chin T’Gai. Is that it? S’Chin T’Gai!¨ He bolted upright, and took Spock's face in his hands, ¨S’Chin T’Gai Spock. My t’hy’la. S’Chin T’Gai.¨ He pressed a gentle kiss to Spock's forehead, and then another to his lips. ¨I think that's the closest my human tongue will let me get to tasting your name, S’Chin T'Gai Spock.¨
¨I believe you are correct, James Tiberus Kirk, although that is much better than I have ever heard a human attempt to say it. Well done.”
Jim pressed a kiss to his t’hy’a’s lips, grinning into his mouth. Taking up Spock’s hand, he aligned their palms together, the touch simultaneously both gentle and passionate.
“I love you S’Chin T’Gai.”
“I love you too, my t’hy’la.”