Space-time has a sick sense of turning on him when he least wants it to, and now is one of those times. It must be retribution for his persistent studies and manipulations of it. The floor turns into the ceiling and he doesn't even care if his forehead falls six feet and two inches into the floor--
And then a strong body. Jim (http://iron-command.livejournal.com/3569.html?thread=138737#t138737). He doesn't have the energy to fight against being turned, and when he next looks up he sees those brilliant blue (so, so blue, so concerned) eyes looking into his own dark gaze, and.
And.
The connection with Jim, twined red and gold, thrums painfully loud in his mind, surging up from where he had been smothering it during the meld. It reminds him of what could have been distorted in his foolishness, and the implications hitting him all at once weaken him again.
It is not alone. The connection with Nyota, always white-gold and constant but now having also been smothered, shoots into his consciousness with its own burning reminder, a pure and holy note ringing through the fog of his thoughts.
Spock sags against Jim, leaning onto his body with his head dropping onto that strong shoulder with his temple pressing to the fabric, exhausted but grappling to get back his strength. In this position, he can look at Nyota directly, focusing on her as his hand tightens around hers. The grip is stronger than he normally does, would hurt if he continued it for long, but he's unaware of the added strength.
His other hand--it comes up between him and Jim, and rests heavily against the other side of Jim's neck, fingertips clutching weakly into the muscle. Thoughts stream, less words and more just feeling, sorryneedNEEDlove....
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Date: 2009-09-14 03:56 pm (UTC)And then a strong body. Jim (http://iron-command.livejournal.com/3569.html?thread=138737#t138737). He doesn't have the energy to fight against being turned, and when he next looks up he sees those brilliant blue (so, so blue, so concerned) eyes looking into his own dark gaze, and.
And.
The connection with Jim, twined red and gold, thrums painfully loud in his mind, surging up from where he had been smothering it during the meld. It reminds him of what could have been distorted in his foolishness, and the implications hitting him all at once weaken him again.
It is not alone. The connection with Nyota, always white-gold and constant but now having also been smothered, shoots into his consciousness with its own burning reminder, a pure and holy note ringing through the fog of his thoughts.
Spock sags against Jim, leaning onto his body with his head dropping onto that strong shoulder with his temple pressing to the fabric, exhausted but grappling to get back his strength. In this position, he can look at Nyota directly, focusing on her as his hand tightens around hers. The grip is stronger than he normally does, would hurt if he continued it for long, but he's unaware of the added strength.
His other hand--it comes up between him and Jim, and rests heavily against the other side of Jim's neck, fingertips clutching weakly into the muscle. Thoughts stream, less words and more just feeling, sorryneedNEEDlove....
He needs them both.