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Spock wakes to the sensation of the mattress depressing at his sides as his lover shifts above him. Blindly, he reaches out to grip Jim’s hips, and pulls him to lie flush against his front. Chapped lips trail across Spock’s eyelids and down his cheek, then pause to press soft, suckling kisses onto his neck. Spock responds with languid fervor when those lips glide up his jaw and across his chin to capture his own, and he allows himself to smile when Jim gently pulls away to tuck his head beneath Spock’s chin.

Midnight interruptions have never been so pleasurable.




The headscarf is smooth beneath his fingertips, almost slippery as it slides through his hands and into Jim’s. Jim spreads it flat across their bedspread, his fingers gently skimming over the skillfully embroidered Vulcan characters. After a few long moments, Spock folds the fabric back into a small, neat rectangle. He raises it to his nose, and can just barely detect the scent of his mother’s Juniper perfume. He offers it to Jim, who does the same, but when Jim lowers the cloth, he shakes his head silently.

Spock cradles the scarf against his chest and leans into Jim’s embrace.




He insists it is illogical, but Jim pulls him into the rain regardless, and within moments they are soaked through their clothing. Jim grabs both of his hands and begins spinning them in circles, his laughter clear and strong above the sound of the wind and thunder. Spock closes his eyes as the bond flares brightly in his mind, savoring the feeling of completion he never thought would be his. Jim startles his eyes open with a cool, slick kiss, his own eyes burning a playful blue. Jim throws himself against Spock, and they fall backwards into a muddy puddle. 



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