Spock walked into the head, calmly removing his uniform top as he walked. He had already doffed his boots, and the floor was slightly cold and damp under his feet as he entered the shower, which meant Jim must have just used it.
He closed the screen, inhaled deeply… and froze, a strange expression coming across his face.
Spock frowned, and shook his head slightly, his nostrils flaring. He determined the source of the odour, and followed it to the shower wall, just below his own hip height. He took a deep breath in, trying to categorize the scent, and felt himself shudder uncontrollably. His legs wobbled and he sank to his knees, his nose plastered to the shower wall. He gasped, then breathed in for a long time. Eventually, reluctantly, he breathed out quickly, then inhaled again deeply. The knees of his pants were wet from the shower floor, and he pushed his pants and briefs down off his body and tossed them out of the shower, all without moving his face from the shower wall.
He could not think. His eyes were closed, but all that he could sense was the delicious smell coming off those tiles. He opened his eyes, and everything was black except his hands, which glowed vaguely pale, and the starburst of light on the shower wall. A green light above him may have been the sonics. His hands found their way down to his stirring erection, and he slipped one hand firmly around himself and began to squeeze and pull, his other hand bracing him against the wall. He plastered his face against the cool plasteel wall, and tried to dig his fingers into the wall, unconsciously taking up the meld position. His mind was blank, although far beneath the fascination which was quickly consuming his logic, a small voice asked him was in the name of Surak he was doing. He used his Vulcan controls to logically, suppress the distracting voice.
He began pleasure himself with his hand, not even realizing at first that he was doing so. He set up a rhythm; squeeze, pull, relax. Inhale, squeeze, pull, relax. Inhale…. wait… oh, exhale, yes; inhale, squeeze very hard, pull, relax. He slumped against the wall and gave himself over to absolute pleasure, his breathing becoming heavy and rapid.
He planted his nose on the glowing space on the wall and sped up his actions, because he could feel his pulse begin to race, his blood pounding quickly through his body and seeming to concentrate itself almost entirely in his penis. He was moaning now, but not too often, only when he was forced to exhale. Everything was black. Suddenly the room exploded back into light as his emissions exploded all over the mesmerising spot on the wall. He subsided, collapsing against the wall, then stared at the pale green patch of Vulcan seed, then used his fingers to twirl it around and mix it with the strange scent. He leaned his face back in and breathed in, nearly fainting at the combined scent of himself and the compelling unidentified agent.
Spock shook his head suddenly, and stood unsteadily up, staring at the wall like he had seen a ghost. He got his breathing and pulse under control and stood stupidly for a moment, then realized where he was and started up the sonics to clean himself and the cubicle up.
He sniffed the air after the sonics had completed their cycle, and thankfully the intoxicating scent was gone.
He walked out and sat on his bed, staring at the floor for many minutes, before mentally and physically shaking himself and deciding that he needed a distraction.
He hit his comm button, and when Jim Kirk’s voice answered, Spock asked, in a perfectly normal voice, ‘Captain, would you care for a game of chess?’
Jim Kirk hesitated for much longer than usual, then responded, ‘Sure, Spock,’ in a delighted voice. Spock wondered what he was so happy about. The Captain continued to look at him with a somewhat goofy smile on his face.
Spock reached out for some semblance of normality in this evening, ‘Sir, are you alright?’
‘I am now,’ grinned Jim, ‘But what say I bring the board to your cabin this time?’
‘That would be satisfactory,’ answered Spock.
Another silence fell. Spock realized that Jim must be waiting for him to end the conversation, for the Captain was just staring at him, so he added, ‘Spock out,’ and hit the cut-off button on the comm unit.
Spock stood up, and began to get dressed. He then knelt on his meditation mat, waiting for the Captain and trying to make heads or tails of what had come over him in the shower cubicle. He debated asking Dr McCoy for advice, but decided against it. He could practically hear the beads, rattles and peals of laughter he would be subjected to, and it did not bear thinking about. Perhaps Jim could enlighten him. At least he was ninety-seven per cent sure the Captain would not laugh at him.
Back in his cabin, Jim Kirk began to gather the chess board, whistling happily. Maybe that procedure he’d been conned into on Risa had been effective after all. His stoic first officer had appeared somewhat flustered when he spoke to his Captain. It was not every evening that Spock forgot to turn off the visual on his comm unit when he was stark naked.