Spock was permitted to return to his room for the night after a surprisingly short battery of tests. On-planet, the local time was approximately 1:24 p.m. when he arrived in his quarters, and although he would have appreciated the opportunity to converse with his father, there was nothing to be done about it now. He would simply need to wait until morning.
Jim was obviously still conflicted about his unintentional outburst earlier; he paced the tiny space repeatedly, eyes fixed and unmoving on the page of the book he held. His face and mind were carefully blank – Spock couldn’t read him at all. He could feel his mate flick his eyes over as he dressed for bed, but when he glanced back, the man’s eyes were always back in the book. The only movement he made that wasn’t pacing was to prop the door to the bathroom open when Spock tried to close it behind him.
“What if you pass out again?” he asked, voice tinged with nerves. Spock raised an eyebrow.
“I’m certain you would be listening for and hear the collapse in the event of a loss of consciousness,” he pointed out. But he knew it wasn’t going to make a difference in this situation. The human was in one of his protective moods. When Jim frowned, he knew the battle was over. “At least avert your eyes. I need to urinate.”
Jim nodded, turning his back to the door. Despite their marriage, bonding, and physical intimacy, this was rather uncomfortable.
“Jesus, Spock. I’ve seen your equipment and I’m pretty sure at one point or another I’ve seen something come out of all your orifices,” Jim called over his shoulder, obviously picking up on his unease. “Peeing is hardly going to be worse than massive hemorrhaging or the like.”
Regardless.
“I’ll pee in front of you if it’d make you more comfortable,” he offered, though the sarcasm was obvious. “Seriously. I’m not going to suddenly think you’re disgusting because of one natural bodily—”
Spock flushed the toilet, abruptly cutting off his little tirade. When he emerged, Jim looked smug.
Told you you could do it.
Spock made his way to the bed, sliding in on his side. How rare, he couldn’t help but think. He could hardly remember the last time he had gotten in bed before Jim – save for a few instances of deliberate elicitations of sexual activity in the early weeks of their sex life. He glanced up at his mate.
The effect, he noticed, was immediate. Jim clearly remembered those early seductions as well – his pupils clearly dilated, his breath caught, and his scent changed, becoming musky, intoxicating, and irresistible. Spock never had been capable of denying him when he smelled like that.
“Fuck, Spock,” he swore, taking two stuttering steps toward the bed. “You just got out of the hospital!”
Ah. Jim was misreading his intentions – but he found himself disinclined to correct his assumption. The doctors hadn’t warned about refraining from sexual activity, after all, and that scent…
“Disrobe,” he breathed. He could almost see the shiver that passed through Jim. Nevertheless, he stood resilient.
“Not tonight,” he said firmly. Spock raised an eyebrow.
What a predicament. His scent had provoked him into a state that demanded satisfaction – and it should have been his responsibility to alleviate his tension. He considered a new tactic, and immediately sent as much lust as he could through the bond.
