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They do not… talk about it.
There had been melds, and endless apologies, and immediate forgiveness on both of their parts. But they have not spoken about the particulars of that day. Of Spock, losing his temper, out of his mind with grief, putting his hands on Jim in a violent fashion.
As t’hy’la, it made sense afterwards; Jim challenging him and Spock taking the bait, striking out at the one person in the room who saw the danger of him losing control and promptly ignored it. But the feeling of his fists impacting Jim’s body, of his throat being crushed beneath his firm Vulcan grip, still caused Spock to wake in a cold sweat at night.
“We don’t have to do this one.” Jim says softly. “I know it’s a… sensitive subject.”
Spock, blinking down at his hand where it rests on the control panel for the holo-suite, the words erotic asphyxiation displayed. He’d been scrolling through their choices, as Jim insisted he’d been ‘hogging’ the prompt selection and that it was Spock’s turn to choose, when his mind had wandered.
The bond between them is quiet, Jim deliberately shielding his own impressions; no doubt in an effort to not sway Spock either way.
Standing upright from the controls, Spock faces his bondmate. “We should, perhaps, have a discussion on the matter first.”
“Okay.” Jim replies readily, and he does not flinch when Spock tugs him back towards their bed, rather than into the holo-suite.
Touching Jim, even the slightest grip on his bare forearm to steer him along, eases something in Spock’s chest. Jim’s emotions, though thoughtfully shielded in their bond, are undisguisable through physical touch; he is worried for Spock, but he is not afraid of him.
He shudders at the thought; cannot bear to even think about what he would do if Jim were ever to fear him, or find him dangerous to his person.
Given Jim’s track record, the two do not always overlap.
Arriving at the bed, Spock is suddenly uncertain how best to proceed; Jim, as always, takes action. Shoving and maneuvering the Vulcan onto the bed that Spock had just made a few minutes ago, Jim clambers up after him, settling with his bare back to Spock’s chest and looping his blue clad arms snugly around him.
Squeezing him tight, Spock buries his face in the nape of Jim’s neck and breathes in the comforting scent of his bondmate; pressing gratitude and confusion at his own sudden onset of doubt and insecurities down the bond.
:Sometimes weird things can trigger people, when they’ve gone through something bad.: Jim consoles him, petting at his arms and snuggling back into Spock’s chest. Turning his head, Jim places a soft kiss to the crux of Spock’s jaw, and he leans into the easy affection.
Communicating like this, through the bond, is much easier with difficult topics; better to not have to force the words past his lips, and take comfort in the privacy of their minds.
:I have had my hands on your throat many times in the last three weeks.: Spock protests. :I do not understand why simply reading the words-:
:You weren’t choking me though.: Jim interrupts pointedly. :You were touching to feel, but you’ve always been gentle with my throat. It’s just-:
Jim hesitates, and it goes unspoken between them both, simultaneously.
:We don’t talk about it.:
:We do not speak of it.:
:Exactly.: Jim adds, his emotions conflicted, but his body remains at rest in Spock’s arms.
:Perhaps we should.: Spock says softly. :I have apologized a thousand times, but I will do so again if-:
:There isn’t really anything to apologize for.: Jim protests. :I knew exactly what I was doing, provoking someone that I knew full well was three times stronger than me. There was every chance that you’d knock me out cold with another nerve pinch and my ruse would’ve been over like that.:
Jim rubs his physical fingers together, a sharp snap echoing in the silence of the room.
:I over reacted.: Spock insists. :I should never have put my hands on you. You were completely defenseless against my assault.:
:Not completely.: Jim snorts, mildly indignant.
:You did not attempt to lay a single blow on me.: Spock replies firmly. :Every move you made was a calculated defense against my assault, as you waited for me to come to my senses and realize the hypocrisy of my statement.:
:We shattered that poor navigation console.: Jim says ruefully.
He is trying to deflect, to distract Spock, and despite being fully aware of this, it is Jim’s attempt to smother a sense memory that actually catches his attention.
Chasing the thought that Jim is hastily attempting to tuck away, Spock feels the sharp sting of cuts, glass slicing into tender flesh. The memory is hidden away as Jim mentally bats at his prying, but Spock is reeling from the implication.
Just above his hips, scattered across his lower back, Jim has a collection of pale white lines; scars that could have easily been treated away had they received treatment in a timely manner.
:Bones had bigger issues to work on that day than pulling shards of glass from my ass again.: Jim mutters mulishly.
Remorse floods through Spock’s chest, the overwhelming realization that he’d hurt Jim, had been responsible for adding to his collection of scars…
:Stop that.: Jim says firmly. :I did what I had to do, and you did the only reasonable thing-:
:Hurting you is not reasonable.: Spock protests hotly, squeezing Jim tight and tucking his legs up to press at Jim’s sides. The full body hug is briefly appreciated, but Jim will not be distracted from this.
:It was necessary though.: he points out. :You had to lose your cool to give me the ship, there’s no way we could have worked together back then to get our lady turned around and headed in the right direction.:
:Our orders were to rejoin the ‘fleet in the Laurentian system.: Spock recalls, mild horror at the thought of what could have happened without Jim’s interference raking like claws at his mind. :If we had done what we were ordered, there is a very high chance that Earth would no longer exist.:
:No specific numbers?: Jim teases, though the solemnity is unbroken.
:Eighty seven point four five percent.: Spock replies grimly.
:That is pretty high.: Jim says faintly, petting at Spock’s arm in an effort to comfort him.
:So you don’t want to choke me, because it reminds you of losing control?: Jim asks, after they’ve sat in silence for nearly three full minutes, contemplating the implications of their actions.
:I do not want to hurt you, at all.: Spock readily admits. :The reminder that I have already done so is unnecessary; I have frequent nightmares of the event. My mind will not allow me to forget that I nearly lost you to my own hands, before I ever even had you.:
:You’ve got me now.: Jim points out. :I’m not going anywhere.:
Squeezing Jim tight and pressing his gratitude down the bond, Spock takes a moment to simply bask in Jim’s presence, in the warmth of steadfast affection pouring into the bond from Jim’s end.
:Thank you for talking to me.: Jim says softly. :I know it’s never going to stop bugging you, but I want you to know, it wasn’t that bad for me.:
The memory of Jim’s coughs, when they had wracked his body spread wide on the shattered console, would suggest otherwise.
:I mean it.: Jim insists. :I’ve been roughed up before, I wasn’t exactly a stranger to getting my ass handed to me. But I-:
:What?: Spock prodded.
:I think I already knew.: Jim admits, quiet even in the bond.
At Spock’s confusion, he can feel Jim trying to gather the words together, to make sense of what he’d experienced.
:Can I just- Would you mind, just, I don’t know, looking?: Jim pleads, tugging Spock’s hand towards his face. :It’s hard to explain, but I think if you felt it, you’d know what I mean.:
Spock hesitates.
It is not the idea of melding that he finds distasteful. Syncing his mind with Jim’s was always a delight, a homecoming without equal. But to relive that memory, in particular, when he was at his worst and most violent…
:It’ll be okay.: Jim assures him. :Trust me. I want you to see.:
Unable to deny Jim anything, Spock lifts his fingers to his bondmate's face and mutters the ancient words of ritual.
🚪
“... you never loved her!” Jim shouts, and the words burn almost as bad leaving his mouth as the haymaker punch that Spock swings on him; the burst of pain in the side of his head sending him spinning.
A flurries of blows rain down on him and he waits, because Old Spock had said-
The pain in his back, glass slicing deep and giving that delightful tinkling sound that meant he’d be pulling shards out for days afterward, shocks him, but it doesn’t steal his attention the way that the hand slipping onto his throat does.
Spock has him pinned, and forget Vulcan strength, just the weight of having a grown man press down on his throat has Jim seeing stars in seconds.
Gotta wait. Any second now, he’s going to-
Jim coughs, his throat spasming as Spock tightens his grip even further.
There’s a shock of surprise as Jim realizes he’s… not afraid. He should be afraid, anyone sane would be afraid. But there’s something in his chest that eases when Spock touches him, even with this violence.
It’s something soft, and light, pressing against his brain and coaxing him to relax in the Vulcan’s grasp; Spock presses his perceived advantage and squeezes tighter, but the feeling persists.
This is Spock. Spock won’t hurt him.
It could just be the lack of oxygen speaking, of course. But Jim ignores the pain in his back, the bruises forming from Spock’s blows, and even the pressure on his throat gives way as he focuses on that feeling; the gentle pressing at his mind that he’s safe, that he’s never been more protected than he is now.
“Spock!”
The sharp voice pulls Spock away, and Jim tries to cry out in despair, even as his lungs greedily suck in as much air as they can. The light leaves with Spock, the feeling of security gone, and he’s left with his aching body as the only reminder that for the span of those short seconds…
He’d been loved.
🚪
Spock gasps, the meld falling away as his fingers slip from Jim’s face.
“The bond.” he breathes, resorting to audible speech in an effort to ease the strain of separating.
Jim nods, the motion slow and jerky as he acclimatizes to being in his own body once more. The process is faster for Spock, as he has practiced grounding techniques since before he could even walk.
It was the main reason that they never shared a full meld during sex. The separation process while their bodies were in such a heightened state was excruciating for Spock, and pure torture for Jim.
“Yeah.” Jim replies, gasping for breath as if he’d been running a marathon instead of simply reclining in his husband's lap. “I didn’t know it, of course, but I knew you wouldn’t really hurt me.”
“You felt it, then, before even I did.” Spock says, awed and unashamed to express it. “It took me an additional six months to realize what we were to each other."
Warmth and happiness spread down the bond from Jim.
“But you didn’t hesitate, once you knew.” Jim says smugly.
“How could I?” Spock asks, arms still wrapped around his bond mate tightening in surprise. “Knowing that you were k'hat'n'dlawa, one who was half of my heart and soul?”
Jim flushes an appealing shade of pink and turns to bury his face in Spock’s neck.
“Yeah. Well. I love you too, and stuff.” Jim mutters.
Pressing a kiss to the side of Jim’s head, Spock holds his husband close, grateful for how far they have come and feeling much better for having seen Jim’s side of things. The prompt for the day can wait; for now, his only priority is reveling in the comfort of his wonderful, infuriating bondmate.
“And stuff.” Spock agrees.