There had been a sufficient lapse in time since the incident of Spock's pon farr, ninety seven days, three hours and five minutes to be precise. The blood fever had dissipated as the unprecidented kal-if-fee had come to it's grim conclusion.
Unbidden images of his captain, dead on the sands of his homeland, intruded Spock's thoughts daily. No matter how long he meditated over the disturbing images, eidetic memory prevented the Vulcan from purging these intrusive thoughts from his day to day life on the Enterprise.
Perhaps this is just punishment sent from his subconscious for the grievous actions he made that day, Spock disregarded the thought, it was illogical.
On the horizon of his mind was a thought not quite within his reach. A peripheral idea, the harder he tried to think of it, the less he could grasp it.
Spock had denied himself a fundamental part of his katra and his mind was overpowering his own controls, breaking through the walls of his psyche to tell him what he had longed for with these incessant images.
Jim.
Jim, his friend, sacrificing all that he has worked for with his life in Starfleet, in order to save Spock. Jim, always accepting of his Vulcan side, becoming a part of the ceremony and tradition. Jim, rolling in the sand, writhing beneath his body, using exceptional human strength to overpower his heavier Vulcan frame and flip Spock onto his back.
Spock's hands paused their typing on his computer terminal as his senses were flooded with data, Spock could feel the moist sweat from Kirk's chest against the side of his hands, taste the salt of it in the air, he could feel the ghost of his captain's thighs between his own. Spock could remember the hot breath across his face, near his ear, where he heard Jim grunt and moan at the strain and effort of their tangling limbs.
The dawning realisation came to Spock with such stark clarity that he gasped silently.
How much he wanted to kiss Jim then. And now. To have him in his arms. He even wished he could relive his first pon farr under different circumstances, to take Jim in the Vulcan way.
"Everything alright, Mr Spock?" Jim asked, smiling with a question in his eyes, the captain stood beside Spock at the science station and their elbows touched briefly.
"Affirmative, Captain." Spock's eyes remained fixed on the hazel ones as he pushed his arm back against Jim's pointedly in a moment of unexpected desire.
Jim glanced at where their elbows met and his smile grew into one of his brightest, he looked back up at his first officer knowingly.
Jim looked down as his smile turned shy and hesitated before he touched the back of Spock's wrist with his fingers. Desire flared into Spock’s mind at the contact, so confident and vibrant it was unmistakably Jim in every way. It suffused Spock with a smooth warmth, like the sun against his uniform blacks, growing warmer still as he, astonishingly, felt a flush on his cheeks. A pleasant heaviness swarmed his belly and pulled lower still, Spock resisted the urge to shuffle and chase the sensation. He knew then that Jim felt the same way.
"I have been waiting for you. Let's discuss it over chess this evening, say 1900?"
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Finished up my holiday project last night (nobody look at the date...)
For your listening pleasure, here is:
[Podfic] Please don't touch the Vulcans by @museaway
Summary: The "yes" is out of Jim's mouth before he can think about it.
Length: 01:59:34
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Link to podfic
This is a really sweet one that found me again as I was thinking about what to make for Christmas, falling into my lap like a holiday miracle. I hope you enjoy!
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