Chapter Text
“Mr Spock.”
“Captain.”
Spock concluded there was little to be gained in trying to fathom why his Captain should appear surprised to have found Spock within his own cabin. Human behaviour was after all inherently illogical. He simply raised an eyebrow in query and awaited explanations. It was unusual to see Jim apparently lost for words but he would doubtless come to the point of his visit eventually. Spock was rather bemused though, when Jim proceeded to pace the cabin.
Spock was pleased to note that his serenity was unchallenged by Jim’s presence. Indeed it was pleasant to look upon his Captain without the complication of the roiling emotions which had previously plagued him. He allowed his gaze to travel the length of his captain’s form as Jim continued to pace restlessly. Spock was distantly aware of Jim’s voice as he detailed Doctor McCoy’s recent contact with the planet regarding the properties and uses of the ‘love potion’.
Frowning, Spock made a mental note to have a pointed discussion with Jim’s Yeoman regarding the care of his uniform. Considering Jim’s unfortunate propensity for damaging his clothing it would surely be logical for Yeoman Rand to take greater care than normal with his remaining clothing. However, the shirt and pants Jim was currently wearing had obviously been shrunk during the cleaning process and now clung to certain areas in a manner which was clearly inappropriate attire for a Starfleet Captain.
Less disciplined crew members were liable to become distracted by the way the soft fabric stretched taut over the sleekly muscled body barely concealed within. It would almost be possible to map out each muscle group visually. Spock’s concentration on his mental recall of the muscles within the human anatomy was such that his breath caught occasionally as he anticipated Jim’s next movements. He was caught unaware when the pacing abruptly stopped and Jim stepped towards him.
“Spock… Spock?”
Reluctantly abandoning his contemplation of Jim’s well-defined thigh muscles, Spock slowly lifted his head to meet his captain’s amused eyes.
“Have you even heard a word I’ve said?”
Wishing to avoid too-perceptive blue eyes Spock shifted his gaze to Jim’s lips. He was forced to bite back a moan as his mind was suddenly flooded with images of possible uses for that clever, mobile mouth. Possibly he had overestimated his ability to sublimate his desires. Spock ignored the blush rising to his cheeks and calmly reminded Jim of the superiority of Vulcan hearing.
“That’s not really an answer now is it?”
The softly spoken question tugged at the heat building inside Spock. He was unable to respond, unable to frame a single thought unrelated to Jim’s lips and the almost painful urge to satisfy his curiosity as to their texture and taste. The instinctive need to touch, claim and possess was almost beyond his power to resist. He remained mute as Jim moved closer until there were bare inches between them. Spock inclined his head, swaying slightly forwards, all his senses focused on his captain.
Those tempting lips curved teasingly and Jim’s husky whisper broke the silence. “You seem a little distracted Mr Spock. Is there something I could do to help?”
Spock could think of at least 38 things Jim could do to assist him in his current predicament…