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Spock regained consciousness slowly, his head cloudy and his senses dulled. He regained awareness more quickly. The first thing he noticed was the softness of the sheets he was laying on. He spread his fingers out over them, indulging himself in the contentedness he felt spread throughout his body. He felt as if he had been asleep for ages.
He blinked his eyes open, wincing slightly at the bright light that was bleeding in through the open windows, and tried to recall his last memory…
He was on New Vulcan, he realized suddenly, in a dwelling that had been provided for him by his father. Spock had been hungry. No—no, that was not correct. He had not been hungry, he had been… ravenous. Insatiable. Spock recalled how the feeling of fire had coursed through his veins, the way he had burned for his mate. His t’hy’la.
Jim.
Spock sat up in bed, panicked by the sudden realization that Jim had been with him and now he was—oh. Spock glanced down at the body that lay beside him in the bed. The panic subsided as Spock observed Jim. His mate was laying fully on his belly, his cheek tucked against a pillow as his head lay facing Spock. He watched as Jim’s body rose and fell steadily with his breathing.
Spock’s gaze traveled across Jim’s body, his momentary relief gone, swept away in an instant as he began to take in the effects of the last three days. Bracelets of black and blue wrapped around Jim’s wrists, as though he had been held down with extreme force. The bruises were not just there, they littered his ashayam’s body in varying degrees of ruthlessness. His skin was rubbed raw after days of abuse.
He glanced at Jim’s face, and he looked peaceful in his sleep. Spock glanced down.
Jim’s lip was split.
Spock’s stomach churned as the terrible realization struck him.
He had undergone the Pon Farr—the Vulcan mating time in which one must take a mate or risk death. Jim had not named a challenger.
Jim’s injuries were thus a result of the blood fever. A result of days of Spock’s logic being lost to his primal urges. A result of him. Spock had hurt Jim.
Spock had hurt Jim. Spock had hurt Jim.
He had been the one to hold Jim by his wrists until they were stained black and blue, the one to bring him harm. He squeezed his eyes shut, a horrible whimpering noise came from the back of his throat, despite his efforts to quench it. He opened his eyes once more and looked at Jim again.
Spock had no right to touch him, and yet he could not help himself as he reached out, running his thumb across Jim’s split lip.
The contact seemed to rouse Jim. The captain stirred on the bed and Spock pulled his hand away as quickly as he could, as if burned. Jim’s eyebrows pulled together at the loss of contact as he returned to consciousness and, finally, his eyes blinked open. He seemed to take a moment, his eyes still heavy with exhaustion as they scanned the surroundings, before finally landing on Spock’s face.
Jim’s eyes cleared at once, their brilliant blue color becoming even more striking in the early morning light. Jim’s eyes often reminded Spock of the Earth’s ocean, crystalline and perfect. Sometimes Spock swore they glittered like stars; he knew Jim was fond of this comparison. Right now, they were shining, and Spock forced himself to look away—for he did not deserve their brilliance. Not when he had been the one to cause the glazed appearance that they had taken on just moments ago.
His love shifted against the mattress, pushing himself onto his back with a pained wince that roused Spock from his guilt-ridden thoughts enough to take action. He reached his hands out to steady Jim, helping him to lean back into the pillows. “Jim,” Spock breathed out, his voice hoarse from disuse.
Jim blinked at him before offering a lopsided smile that caused Spock’s heart to thunder in his side. Jim winced slightly at the action before reaching up to touch at his tender lip. Spock felt ashamed once more, but Jim dropped his hand back onto the bed and smiled at Spock for a second time, though this attempt was more subdued so as to not irritate his injury.
“Hey, you,” Jim said, and even his voice sounded sore. “Is it—” He tried to clear his throat, but suddenly doubled over in a coughing fit.
Spock leapt from the bed and across the room to a basin of water that been left with them before the pon farr had taken full effect. He poured a generous helping into a glass before padding back to the bed and kneeling at Jim’s side. Spock held the glass up to Jim’s lips. “Here, Jim,” Spock said, tilting the glass back, guiding the water to Jim’s lips.
Jim drank several gulps before pulling away. A few droplets of water were left on his lips, they dripped down onto the sheets of the bed. Jim smiled again, a bit brighter this time. “Thanks,” He said. “Is it over?”
“Yes.” Spock nodded.
Jim watched Spock for a few moments. Nervousness flitted across the now fully realized bond between them and it took Spock several seconds to realize that these were Jim’s nerves, not his own.
“And you’re… okay?” Jim asked. Spock gaped at him, blinking. Only Jim Kirk could render him speechless in such a way. Jim’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”
Spock’s gaze lingered on the way Jim’s split lip moved as he spoke. “You are injured, Jim,” He said, willing his voice to remain steady, but it cracked with emotion as he spoke his t’hy’la’s name.
Jim’s eyes softened and he held out two fingers to Spock, an invitation. He frowned when Spock hesitated to reciprocate the gesture of affection, which Spock had never done before. “Spock,” Jim said. “Please.”
Spock shook his head, moving back and away from the bed. From Jim. The frown he received did nothing to soothe the guilt that was currently swirling through him, but he could not help himself. “I do not deserve your touch,” He said by means of explanation.
“What?” Jim furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What are you talking about, Spock?”
“I have injured you,” Spock spat out, disgusted with himself. “I should never have allowed for this to occur, you should never be harmed in this way—”
“Hey, wait, slow down for a second—” Jim tried to sit up further to lean towards Spock, wincing as he did so. He brought his arm up and wrapped it around his abdomen protectively as his face contorted in pain.
Spock allowed himself to touch Jim in this instance only to take him by his shoulders and guide him gently back into a reclined position against the pillows. Jim sighed at the contact, leaning into the touch. Once he was situated, Spock forced himself to pull his hands away again. Jim frowned.
“Spock,” Jim said softly. “You couldn’t help it. Besides, I knew what I was signing up for when this all started, so—”
“You could not have been aware of the harm I was to cause you.” Spock shook his head, clenching his fists at his sides.
“Spock, come on, we both knew that this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park,” Jim tried again. “We knew I wasn’t going to come out without a few scrapes—besides, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a dermal generator and some griping from Bones.”
“The fact that you have any ‘scrapes’ at all is unacceptable to me,” Spock said, a bit sharper than he meant or intended. Jim flinched slightly at the harsh words. Regret was illogical, as was guilt, and yet his feelings of both increased tenfold at the sight. “I apologize,” He said, softer this time, bowing his head. “I did not mean to raise my voice. I am just—it is very displeasing to see you harmed in this way, by my hand.”
Jim stared at him for a few moments before sighing. “I know,” He said. “And it’s okay, Spock. Really, it is. I wanted this. No one else was going to do this with you, I wasn’t going to let them.”
Spock’s head shot up at the unspoken words, desperate to assure Jim of his intentions. “I did not mean to imply that I would have preferred another,” He said.
“I know.” Jim smiled, it was soft and gentle and all of the things that Spock felt he did not deserve. He held out his fingers again, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Spock.”
This time, despite the guilt gnawing at his insides, Spock did not hesitate to reciprocate the gesture. The warm spark that jolted up his arm as a result was gratifying, but the contented sigh that passed by Jim’s lips was even more so. Spock watched as Jim closed his eyes at the contact, dropping his head and hooking their fingers together.
The love Jim felt for Spock was palpable through their bond. It was almost overwhelming, the sheer intensity of it. Spock sent back his own wave of love and comfort—the tension drained from Jim’s shoulders as a result. Spock gingerly sat at the edge of the bed, Jim’s fingers still wrapped around his.
Jim lifted his head again. “Something’s still wrong,” He observed. “What is it?”
“I do not understand,” Spock admitted quietly.
“Don’t understand what?”
Spock tightened his hold against Jim’s fingers before he spoke, scared that his next words would push Jim away from him. “Why you are not scared of me,” Spock said. “Why you are still here when I have done this to you. How you could still possibly love me after…” He looked away. Spock was not often at a loss for words, but he found that Jim had the ability to render him speechless unlike anyone else.
“Spock. Hey, Spock, look at me.” Jim squeezed his fingers, and Spock had never been able to deny Jim anything. He returned his gaze to him, and Jim smiled again. That breathtaking, blinding smile that Spock was sure Jim reserved just for him. “I could never be afraid of you, Spock,” Jim said. “Never.”
“Jim—”
“I love you,” Jim interrupted. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone, and nothing could ever change that. Nothing. If this experience did anything, it was just prove you feel the same.”
“Of course I do, ashaya,” Spock immediately agreed. “I cherish thee.”
Jim smiled, tangling their fingers and pressing the palms of their hands together. Spock sighed, melting into the contact. “I’m glad I got to do this with you, sweetheart,” Jim said. “You were… beautiful.”
Spock felt himself blush, despite himself. “Jim.” He reprimanded, but Jim just grinned.
“You were,” He insisted. “And you could never scare me, Spock. I always feel safe when I’m with you.”
He could feel the love and contentedness radiating from Jim through the bond and finally, Spock allowed the knot of guilt that had been sitting in his side to loosen and go slack. He held Jim’s hand tightly against his own and used his free hand to cup Jim’s face. Jim sighed, leaning into the contact as his eyes fluttered closed.
“Kiss me?” Jim asked, and then cracked one eyelid open. “The human way?”
Once again unable to refuse Jim anything, Spock brought their lips together and was gratified at the way Jim hummed into his mouth. Spock ran his tongue gently over the cut on Jim’s lip, a silent apology, and felt Jim’s hand tighten around his in response.
After many minutes had been lost to their kiss, Spock pulled away, resting his forehead against Jim’s. “Jim,” He said softly.
“Hm?”
“Ashau nash-veh tu," He murmured the ancient words reverently, pouring every ounce of devotion and love he felt for the man sitting before him.
The bond sparked golden and Jim smiled.