It’s not overwhelming him, but he can feel it underneath the surface. So the first time Spock visits his captain in the late evening since the five year mission, Jim smiles and lets him inside.
Spock clears his throat and presses his hands to his sides, to stop them from shaking ever so slightly. But Jim notices, of course he does and he can easily do the math.
“Seven years?” He asks softly and Spock can just nod.
“I would wish for the circumstances to be different. The fever is not my
reason to be here. Jim, you have to know that I hold you in my highest
regard. I…”
Jim’s smile brightens, the flecks of light reflecting his eyes let them appear to glow. Golden, so golden. Even now after all this years. A shudder runs along the back of Spock’s spine, when Jim takes his hand between his own and places a kiss on the knuckles.
Every movement seems so careful and slow, paced with gentleness and the
all too present fear of destroying something so fragile. When they sink
into the sheets it’s almost agonizing, but they don’t let themselves be
rushed. They need to get to know each other again, and this time it’s
more than stolen glances and tentative touches.
As Jim traces the contours of the sinewy body underneath him with his
lips and Spock caresses his scalp, sending sparks of unnamed emotions
and memories through with every touch, they forget time. Empirically
Spock knows that his days of sanity are limited. Already every touch of
those hands ignite him. But tonight he is himself and whatever may
happen tomorrow, this is how he wants to remember their reunion.