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Spock traces his fingertips over the back of my hand, making me exhale softly and close my eyes in contentment. I lean further against his side, feeling his warmth soak into me, in contrast to the coldness of the seat. I leave my hand where it is, resting lightly on Spock's tight, while he traces idle patterns with his fingertips, making my skin tingle and I feel lightheaded again.
That is what his touch does to me. It strips me of everything. And I don't mean that literally, although it does that, too, quite often, and that is some awesome sex that follows. I love sex with Spock, I love it when he pins me against the wall or fucks me into bed like there's no tomorrow, and I love the mental part, how he leaves our bond wide open, letting me see, letting me feel everything he does. But I enjoyed sex before, and while with Spock it's thousands times better, that didn't come as a surprise. I always knew sex with Spock would be perfect.
What came as a surprise were the touches, the innocent touches, and my reaction to them. I have always considered myself quite the touchy-feely sort of guy and I thought I knew all sorts of touches. I was wrong.
Spock turns my hand so it rests palm up now and begins to press light Vulcan kisses against the two of my fingers, making his way to the centre of my palm. I let my head fall on his shoulder, and leave my hand to the onslaught of his gentle fingers. And lips. He lifts it and touches his lips to my palm, leaves them there for a few seconds, and I feel his breath on my skins, setting every one of my nerves ablaze.
Spock must feel what he's doing to me, through the bond. Must know if he doesn't stop, this is going to turn into one of those sessions, which always happen in either of our quarters, never elsewhere. Spock would never show this much affection, and I would never let myself feel ― be ― so vulnerable, in places where people might see. And I know it's shore leave, and the ship’s mostly abandoned, everybody planetside, but still, the empty observational room feels too open.
Should I cease my actions?
Spock's brown eyes, illuminated only very little by the dim lights are boring into mine, a silent question if this is too much, my hand cradled in two of his, hovering centimetres from his mouth.
I can only shake my head, not trusting my voice.
Something around his eyes softens and the corners of his mouth curl up almost imperceptibly, in Spock's way of smile. He hides it behind my hand, pressing a lingering kiss to my knuckles.
It's ridiculous, my brain thinks, every time he does that, kissing my hand like I'm some princess, but my heart opposes. It picks up at speed the second Spock's soft lips touch my skin, until I'm sure he can hear it. I feel his lips twitch and he brushes them over my knuckles again and again in the softest of kisses, his gaze never leaving mine, until my heart is beating its way out of my chest and I feel honest-to-God blush colouring my cheeks.
That was something new, too. I didn't blush before Spock. The closest thing was the flush after physical activity and that's really not the same. But Spock's touch is so different, so caring and gentle, so unlike anything I've ever experienced before, I can't help it. No one has ever touched me with such love before and when Spock first cradled my face in his hands and kissed my forehead softly, I felt tears prickling my eyes. He was so startled then, so alarmed, and when I told him I've never been kissed on my forehead before he almost didn't believe me.
So I showed him. I showed him how my own mother withdraw from me as a child, because I looked too much like her dead husband, I showed him how all the touches in my teens were fists to my face from Frank, and others, or the rough hands of strangers who only ever wanted sex. It was better at the Academy, the friendly pats from Bones, his caring hands when I once again ended up in some stranger's bed with bruises all over my body and a killer hangover, and I knew he cared for me, loved me in a way, but he never kissed me on forehead, and I never wanted him to. It isn't that kind of love. At the Enterprise it was the same, only there were friendly gestures from more people and that was great, and I never considered myself to be touch-starved, until I found out what it was like to be touched by Spock.
When Spock ended that meld he looked so sad for a moment, so sorrowful, then he covered every inch of my face with gentle kisses until I melted against him and he took me to his bed, and cradled me in his arm, like I was the most precious thing in his life. He said he loved me then, whispered the words in my ear, in the darkness, and I couldn't stop the silent tears escaping my eyes. They soaked his shirt and he only held me closer until I fell asleep, soothed by his hand rubbing my back.
Spock shifts in the seat, sitting on my legs, so he blocks my view on the stars and instead I am left staring into his beautiful warm eyes, and I can't help but smile, because Spock straddling my lap is always so ridiculous. I see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, as he leans closer, his face suddenly inches from mine, and my smile falls away, blood pulsing wildly in my veins, my breathing quickening.
His palm comes to cradle my head, he strokes my cheekbone with his thumb, and he leans closer and closer and my heart seems to beat according to the distance between us, until his lips meets the skin just above my eyebrows and all of my strength leaves me.
Of course he knows what I was thinking about. Of course he knows I'll forever have a weakness for him kissing my forehead.
My head falls against his shoulder, when he finally withdraws, because my neck is too lazy to hold it up right now. My hands are on his tights and his come around me, one on my back to hold me closer, the other to rest on my head. He traces the shell of my ear with it, up and down, and then his fingers find their way into my hair, making me sag against his body even more.
Spock is fascinated by my hair, and I would find it amusing, if the same didn't go for me with his. He trails his fingers through it gently, tugging lightly, and an involuntary sight escapes me. He turns his head and nuzzles his nose in it, and I feel his love and affection in my mind and my arms lift from his tights to envelop him, to pull him closer, to bury myself in the inhuman warmth. He splays his fingers on my back and holds me, and I wouldn't mind staying like this forever, but my treacherous heart betrays me once again. After a few minutes it's beating so fast again, I hear the loud pulsing in my temples and I feel so lightheaded I am seriously afraid I might pass out.
I lift my head, withdrawing a little, and when Spock brushes his fingers against my psi points gently, the overwhelming sensation subdues. He leaves his hand at the side of my face and stares in my eyes and I know he's studying my irises again, although I don't know how much can he see with only the starlight illuminating them.
His gaze slides down and he leans in, abruptly, kissing my nose and it's so unexpected I laugh.
"I have spent some time wishing to take such action." he explains, and I only laugh more because Spock kissing my nose is so surreal, it's funny.
He looks at me reproachfully, but I feel his amusement through the bond, and see it in the crinkles by his eyes, so I smile at him more.
I think that this must be happiness in its purest form.
As the though reaches Spock's consciousness I see his expression soften and his hand reclaims its position on my cheek. Are you happy? he asks me through our connection and there's a serious expression on his face.
I can't help it. I reach out to touch his cheek as well, with a smile playing on my lips, and he closes his eyes briefly, until a quiet 'yes' is echoing through the bond. He opens them, then, looking deep in my eyes. You can't imagine how happy I am.
Quite the contrary, he disagrees, I believe I can. He looks at me intently, and there is that warmth in my mind again and his fingers on my face, tracing a line down my cheek, and I know he's saying he's happy because of me, and something in my chest tightens and I can't move my gaze away from his eyes. My hand slips from his face, down his torso, no longer possessing the strength to stay in place, until it stops at his hip and I hold onto him, and he's my anchor, not letting me flow away, not letting me disappear.
He tilts my chin up with his fingers and leans closer and closer, and I wet my lips in anticipation, almost subconsciously, his gaze flickering towards the movement and I'm hardly breathing as he lowers his head even more, leaving barely inch between our lips, just breathing ― evenly! ― for a moment, and then―
― moves his head to side and kisses the corner of my mouth. Where our lips touch minimally, I feel fire burning my skin, but it isn't enough and I'm pretty sure I make some sort of keening noise, because he exhales against my skin, in silent laughter and kisses my jaw instead my lips.
He trails kisses along my jaw up, to my ear, where he lingers, pressing soft kisses to my earlobe and I'm suddenly aware of the low murmur escaping his lips. My heart aches. He's repeating my name, like mantra, again and again, soft puffs of air against my skin.
I bury my fingers in his hips and he continues the gentle onslaught of his lips against my face. He kisses my jaw, my cheeks, my eyebrows, my closed eyelids, my forehead, my psi point, even my nose again, but never my lips, and I think I might go crazy if he won't soon. His torso is pressed against mine, his hand on my back, holding me against him, the other woven in my hair, cradling my skull, tilting it up, towards his reach.
My lips are tingling and I'm hyperaware of the distance between Spock's mouth, touching the psi point at my temple, and my upper lip. I close my eyes and wonder, if begging Spock to kiss me would be a big blow to my dignity, but just as I'm on the edge, just as I'm about to break, he leaves my temple, bringing his lips to hover millimetres above mine.
He holds my gaze for a fraction of second and then brings his lips down on mine, making me gasp slightly. My strength leaves me suddenly, and the only thing holding me up are Spock's strong hands and the only thing I feel are his lips on mine, just touching, sending waves of scorching warmth through my body.
My hands come around his hips slowly, to his lower back, holding onto him, and he continues pressing his lips to mine, breathing deeply, inhaling my scent, sending hot puffs of air over my skin and I feel like I might fly. We stay like that for a few moments, bodies entwined, lips touching, our minds and feelings mingling.
We break apart simultaneously and Spock cups my face looking at me slightly dazed and I cover one of his hands with mine, needing to touch him. I love you.
I say and my voice breaks on the last word.
Spock's expression softens infinitely and he bows down to plant what surely meant to be a quick kiss on my lips, only he returns for another and another, until he finally stops after some time. And I you.
he breathes against my lips.
He pushes off my lap then, sitting beside me, but he must feel the loss of contact between us as discomforting as I do, because he reaches for me tugging me closer, until my torso is pressed against his side. I lift my legs, putting them across his, and I curl up against him, letting my head fall on his shoulder, nose burying into his neck.
Spock makes a low, almost purring sound, and his hands come around me, protectively, possessively, and I feel so content, like I only ever do with him. I close my eyes nuzzling against his neck, letting all the tension bleed away from me and suddenly I feel so warm and sleepy, and my mind enveloped in Spock's doesn't fight the sleep haze at all.
The last thing I'm aware of, is the sound of Spock's heartbeat, pounding evenly not far from my ear, and the arms around me tugging me closer, not letting me fall.
~~~
Leonard McCoy strides down the corridor of the Enterprise, death glare on his face.
He told Jim not to work, during the goddamned shore leave! He told him about five thousand times! And yet, Jim is nowhere to be found planetside, and Bones is goddamned angry, because the idiot of a captain had been overworking, his stress-level rising sky high recently, and he gave him doctor's order to rest. Doctor's fucking order! Which Jim ignores on daily basis, so Bones shouldn't be surprised, really, but still, he's pissed. He though, at least the hobgoblin would make sure Jim doesn't set foot on Enterprise during these five days.
This leave is basically for Jim, for God's sake!
And yet, when Bones searched for him, of course, the computer confirmed his suspicion.
The Captain is aboard the Enterprise.
Just peachy.
Location: The observational deck, room n. 3.
Huh? Well that isn't what Bones expected. But he's gonna kill the idiot nonetheless. He should've been sleeping soundly by now, wrapped in the blanket of a hobgoblin, not that Bones wants to see that particular image in his mind. He's seen enough of that in reality, quite enough for a lifetime, because the idiots aren't exactly decent, and really that time in the briefing room was too much, too fucking much. Bones felt like the image of Jim jerking his hand out of Spock's pants hastily, and Spock blushing an emerald green, will be forever imprinted on his pupils.
The two hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other for― uh is it really a year already? Well Bones gotta admit― he's impressed. If with Jim for letting Spock so close, that the relationship actually works, or with Spock for putting up with Jim, he can't tell. But yeah, the idiots are for life, he could tell as much, even before they proved it to everyone with the bonding thing.
But that's not his business, mostly, his business is to keep the captain of the fucking flagship, and his friend, functioning.
So yeah, he's going to give him hell for disobeying his orders and then drag his sorry ass back dirtside, he thinks, just about the door to the observational room n. 3 opens in front of him.
He looks around scowling, scanning the empty seats for the signs of Jim and halts his steps abruptly because Jim isn't alone. And he definitely isn't working.
He's sitting in the very corner of the room and Spock is straddling his lap― and holy shit, that's another unwanted image, Bones thinks, until he realizes nothing dirty's going on.
This is something different, so unlike anything he has ever seen, that the sight freezes him in place.
They're wrapped in each other and their lips are pressed together, but they're not kissing, they're just touching and they both have their eyes closed and that's good because Bones is standing by the entrance, with mouth hanging agape.
The moment is so tender and loving and Jim seems so young in Spock's arms and so vulnerable and Bones suddenly thinks about the Academy, how at first, Jim felt uncomfortable even with people touching him, how he pushed everyone who came too close away, guarding his heart in an iron fortress, because he'd been left down by too many people in his life. Bones's been lucky enough to get the closest and Jim still only ever really opened to him when he was drunk. And when he did, he cried, and it was horrible, but Bones listened and stayed and wondered, hoped, that someday someone will break through Jim's shield and restores his faith in the fact, that not everyone leaves in the end. And now looking at Spock cradling Jim in his arms, Bones knows Jim found that someone.
He can't help but feel a smile tugging at his lips, and it’s very hard to frown and smile at once, so Bones checks if the room's really empty outside of them, just to be sure, and drops the glare. He'll never ever in his life let anyone see him smiling like that, at the sight of those two.
They separate from each other and Bones doesn't need to hear the words Jim says, because Spock's expression turns even more sappier, and Bones wonders if he knows he's the only person whom Jim ever says those words, and that is kissing which continues. Soft butterfly kisses, placed lightly at Jim's lips, but kissing still.
He leaves, quietly, every threat he prepared for Jim forgotten.
Bones can't help but admire the hobgoblin a little. Jim Kirk isn't the easiest person to love.