prismatica | Video; un: Spock

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Video; un: Spock

[ The picture shown to the audience is not a half-naked half-Vulcan. Rather, it's of the very luxurious bath house, carefully showing a view with no other people and just the lovely scenery.

Clearly, this is being taken from inside one of the pools surrounded by bamboo walls with little waterfalls and probably-fake rocks and it's just generally nice. Even the steam coming up from the bath is clearly inviting. Well, according to the guy taking the video, anyway.

Oh, and there's a voice. ]

Either there is a nefarious plot afoot that has left me unwilling to be without this establishment for any reasonable amount of time or this particular bathhouse is gratifying in a way that none have been in all my experiences across my galaxy. This may be considered out of character for me- [ Haha, meta. ] -but I implore any who are interested to please visit the Four Penguins. It is quite a relaxing and soothing experience.

[ A pause... ]

However, if this is a type of ploy devised either by the moons' whims, the proprietors of the Four Penguins, or an unconsidered or unknown entity - the likelihood of which I deem is uncomfortably high - then I believe now is an appropriate time to ask for assistance.

Regardless, I would not be adverse to company. Spock, out.

[ Hope you got all that. Mr. Social isn't one to repeat himself. ]

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[ A mix of both, definitely. But he's not scared, and knowing how the process is meant to go, he doesn't move at all when Spock reaches out. Actually he closes his eyes, like that might help him focus on what Spock's asking of him.

Predictably, not panicking comes a lot easier to him than clearing his mind. That's just not going to work. Spock will just have to learn to wade through all the thoughts and feelings in his head.

It's nothing like it was with the Ambassador, but then that was... different. Served a particular purpose. This feels closer, more intimate, and he doesn't know if the warmth is due to the mind meld, or the addition of the Chroma to it, but he's certainly not complaining.

His lips curl a bit when he hears Spock's voice. Well, not his voice so much as his thoughts inside his own mind. Focusing the best he can, he tries to answer in kind. ]

Yes?

[ He feels the smile and whatever happiness or amusement is behind it. That same warmth, perhaps made warmer for the Chroma but Spock isn't sure since the contact is not wholly physical.

Regardless, he presses a little further. But that's all it is, just a press against the rest of whatever Jim's mind is, all the thoughts and feelings swirling around in there, definitely not clear. He doesn't intrude but he's there and is making himself known. ]

I will not go where you do not want me to tread. May I?

[ The question's a little redundant and overly cautious and he knows this. Jim must know he knows this, too, the caution evidently in the forefront of his mind. Caution and nerves, like he's going to screw something up between them if he takes a wrong step. ]

[ It's more difficult to be coherent in thought than he might've expected. Holding a conversation is different like this; it feels like he's thinking too many things at once, and he doesn't know if he's at all successful when he tries to focus on just the one thing, on specific words forming in his own mind.

Spock's a whole lot more coherent, but that also speaks to a level of control and restraint that shows how well he does at compartmentalizing. Makes sense, coming from a Vulcan. With the Ambassador it felt more raw and emotional, but... well, he'd been showing Jim about the destruction of his world, the grief and loss. that's entirely different from this.

Still, just to be sure Spock understands him, he reaches a hand up to touch Spock's arms, fingers brushing lightly over his wrist, while he tries to focus on simpler words. ]

You may.

[ In the physical world, Spock minutely shivers from the touch. In their shared mental landscape, he does not. Rather, he steps forward into a place where 'holding a conversation' is entirely unnecessary.

Like this, Spock can feel him, see him everywhere, choose any moment in Jim's life he'd like and see exactly what Jim thought of it as it occurred. But he doesn't. The past is not what this is about, merely they're supposed to be focused entirely on the present.

It is an intimacy, probably more so than what Jim experienced with the Ambassador, and there's a small strike of triumph at the thought of somehow being better or, at least, being different. In this, they're together. He can feel all of the wild thoughts and emotions that Jim feels now, and he has to wonder how Jim isn't constantly overwhelmed by his own mind. Perhaps that's why he's so brilliant.

It's thoughts like those that Spock doesn't say but could be easily felt and seen like this. ]

[ It's an amazing exchange, indeed nothing like it was with the Ambassador. Spock's mind isn't as much of a contrast to his own as he would expect, alive and full and racing, albeit each thought comes to him far more organized, like Spock's dividing it all and passing it along to him in careful, paced measures.

Jim would just like to feel every thought flowing free, but on the other hand he suspects he'd just get overwhelmed.

He's touched when he can sense Spock thinking of him as brilliant, smiling to himself at it. He tries to express his appreciation, but in the jumble of thoughts and feelings it's a wonder if he manages to make that one thought rise above the rest. ]

[ Spock, either because of training or just familiarity with this particular individual, feels the appreciation as soon as it appears. It's a little confusing at first, knowing what Jim is being appreciative of. His brilliance is certainly will known and shouldn't come as a surprise when acknowledged.

But perhaps it's not really a surprise, per se, but more like happiness of the recognition. Maybe even happiness with recognition from Spock, but surely Jim knew how he felt. Or... maybe he did not.

Regardless, he's happy that Jim feels appreciated. Happy and fond. Vulcan emotions run deep, after all, deeper than that of humans, and there's a lot he feels about James Kirk. All good things.

Okay, mostly good things.

The point being, the fondness is nothing new. He's also happy that Jim seems to be enjoying this. ]

[ Oh, he's under no illusions that Spock has plenty of opinions about him, and that not all of them are good. But the feelings are all good, the way Jim sees it, and at the very least he doesn't need a mind meld to get Spock's honest opinion on anything. The Vulcan's never shied away from speaking his mind, at least with regards to something Jim might do that he doesn't agree with, and that's something he deeply appreciates.

In turn, Spock won't find much in Jim's mind that would be a surprise to him. Or that should be a surprise to him, anyway. His feelings towards Spock have always been a little convoluted, difficult for even him to understand. He's spent the last five or so years picking apart the Ambassador's feelings for his Kirk, a whole jumble of complicated and painful in itself, and even for a while he wasn't sure where the Ambassador's feelings ended and his own began.

He'd go so far as to say that the feelings left behind by that mind meld bordered on romantic, but he couldn't say for sure. He's never been the best at recognizing those emotions, though it was apparent then that the Ambassador's feelings ran deep and intense, if nothing else.

That's the first (and possibly only) wall Spock will run into. When Jim realizes, maybe a little too late, where his thoughts are steering to, and he tries his best to pull back and hide them away. ]

[ He does feel that wall. Particularly, he feels that it's something regarding the Ambassador and their meld, something that Jim doesn't want him to see.

Spock isn't hurt by it. Curious, sure, but he steps away from the wall as was his promise to do so. Still, there's a lot of mixed feelings about the contents despite himself. They only flare to life for a fraction of a second before Spock has it all on lock again, back to cool neutrality then back to full openness, just needing a moment to center himself again.

The momentary distraction is no reason to end this early so Spock doesn't. Actually, instead of Jim having to work to close himself away (and for Spock to not have to be closed away from), he opens himself a little more instead, inviting exploration and discovery. There's not much he wants to hide but, if there is, he's far better at it than Jim is.

His past, his family, Vulcan, the Academy, the Enterprise, Uhura, McCoy, even his thoughts on Jim himself. He leaves himself as an open book. ]

[ It really isn't his intention to make Spock feel that way about that wall being put up, but he's genuinely grateful that he doesn't push, and that Jim barely needs to put in any effort for Spock to respect that boundary. It's the kind of thing that really wouldn't do Spock any good to learn about. What would it change for him, after all, except perhaps make things awkward and uncomfortable between them?

But it's a piece of knowledge he's learned to live with over the years, and it doesn't really come to the forefront of his mind very often. In fact this is probably the most he's thought about it in three years.

To steer away from it, he chooses to focus on Spock's mind instead, pouring himself into it, roaming through his memories, his feelings. There is plenty to sift through, more than he would expect— but it's when he gets to Spock's feelings on his mother, on Vulcan and its demise, that it all gets to be a little too much for him. Unaware of it, a tear rolls down his cheek, an intense feeling of grief and loss that he gets from Spock, and that he shares with him in that moment. ]

[ Oh. Oh, he didn't mean for-

Spock gently pulls Jim away from those particular memories, regretful that he inflicted such pain in his friend because of his own. And yet, something about it speaks of camaraderie. Not inflicting pain but sharing in it, grieving together. He's regretful, sorry, but also... touched. And it shows.

Regardless, it's too much on Jim, far more than Spock had ever wanted to burden him with. In pulling him away, he also separates them, not exactly severing the connection as much as just letting the door fall closed without entirely latching.

His eyes open when he feels a tear fall over his thumb, wiping it away and not paying much mind to how much closer they drifted, in a physical and mental sense, during the meld. Also not really removing his hand either. When he speaks, it's a little breathless, quiet, but not exactly brittle. ]

I must apologize. Soliciting these emotions was not my intention.

[ Oddly enough, the way Spock pulls back, metaphorically speaking, knocks him from his balance. He feels like he's just gotten the ground swept from under his feet, a deep, breathless sound leaving him unbidden. That much, at least, feels close to his experience with the Ambassador.

But this time, rather than pull away and put distance between them, he holds onto Spock's wrist a little tighter, not wanting him to take his hand away. The tear disappears with a brush of his fingers, and he opens his eyes to look into Spock's at the apology. ]

No. Don't... apologize. It's not your fault.

[ He sucks in a breath, then lets out a shivered sigh. ]

I went looking.

[ And no, he doesn't mind sharing in those emotions, strong though they may be. Even if he can do little to relieve the pain in Spock's heart. ]

I allowed you to look.

[ Partly as if Jim shouldn't blame himself if he was doing so and partly as if Spock is placing blame on himself again. Either way, looking isn't a bad thing. The emotions solicited can't be helped, not now. ]

Are you all right?

[ There's no need to look for blame here, the way Jim sees it. The feelings are nothing that Jim minds sharing, provided that Spock doesn't mind that he's intruding. But then, seen as he makes it clear that he allowed Jim to look, then he feels a little more confident that it's alright. ]

I'm fine.

[ He smiles at Spock, just to reassure him. His thumb draws slow, thoughtless circles against the inside of Spock's wrist. ]

I'm... great. I feel closer. To you. That's... [ He huffs a breath, smile wider. ] It's really nice.

[ He feels the truth in Jim's words, and it surprises him to the point that he doesn't even glance at the hand on his wrist. His head tilts a little, as is usually habit but this time done purposely, as if he another angle can provide better answers. The angle he's currently seeing isn't one he's seen before, after all. ]

I did not realize that you would derive pleasure from the act.

[ He thought it'd creep him out, to be honest. But back on topic- ]

I, too, feel closer... It is not unpleasant.

No?

[ Jim smiles, a soft little chuckle leaving him. He shifts closer in the water, his own head tilting like it's mirroring Spock's, only to the other side so it's like their gazes slot together. He's... probably getting a lot closer than he should, but his heart's pounding and his mind is racing, and frankly he can't think of a single reason why he should want to gain distance between them right now. ]

Do you not... get pleasure from it, usually? Being this close to someone, how does that not feel great to you?

[ He knows that Jim's getting closer, knows that all of this isn't usually how they operate (even down to the mock water-based battle), but he does nothing to stop it. In fact, he sees no reason why he'd want to or even consider stopping.

Yet, his voice doesn't waver, even as his eyes dart over Jim's face like he's seeing every detail for the first time instead of the billionth. ]

As a Vulcan, mind-melds are instinctual to us despite still being an intimate encounter. Pleasure is not often part of nor the point of the action. Though, there are certain times and with certain individuals that a meld can become pleasurable.

It does not always feel like this.

[ Because it is. For him, too. Pleasurable.

Currently, he assumes it's because of how close they are as friends. Later, he'll assume it's that but also the chroma and the bathhouse. But that's later. ]

[ Chroma does tend to make people a lot more prone to physical closeness, and the water here's definitely helping things along. But for the time being, Jim doesn't think much about that. This is Spock, after all, and they've always been close. Maybe not this kind of close, but it hardly seems to make much of a difference right now. ]

Well... I'm glad. I like that, it makes me feel... special.

[ His smile softens as he meets Spock's gaze, and even that feels more personal, more intimate. His cheeks dusted with the faintest of flusters as he bites his lips in, ignoring how oddly out of nowhere the desire to kiss Spock right about now comes from. ]

[ Something changed in the air but Spock can't tell what it is for the life of him. He's entirely programmed to pick up on these sorts of things despite the fact that he feels them pretty damn strongly, too.

Right now, he's mostly just winging it, still studying Jim's face and allowing himself to relax and move closer, too. It feels weird but a good weird. Logic says they should separate and figure out exactly what's different but he... doesn't want to? And besides- ]

You are special, Jim.

[ It'd kinda be literally a crime for him to go another second without him knowing that or without him knowing that Spock thinks that. Had he not be clear in the past? ]

[ Jim isn't so sure what's going on right now, but it doesn't matter. It feels like a free fall, like going down the stream of a river, but he isn't fighting it, he isn't scared of hitting the bottom, or hitting the ground. He's just going along with the flow, without question or fear.

His free hand, until then useless, lifts out of the water to reach for Spock's face. He watches his own fingertips brush across his cheek, up to his temple, feeling the way Spock's touching him and almost trying to mimic it. But it's less precise on his end, and he's certainly not keeping his hand still, continuing to brush skin in slow, tiny little strokes.

Whether or not he knows that he's special, it doesn't matter. What matters is how good it suddenly feels to hear Spock say it, how it makes his smile shine all the brighter when it grows into a grin. ]

Thank you. So are you, Spock.

[ Spock knew that he was special but it was rarely in a positive light except when it came to his intellectual aptitude. When he was a youth, he knew his heritage was special from his Human side. Upon joining Starfleet, he was still special form his Vulcan side. Even here, he's unique enough to be considered by some to be special.

But when Jim says it, looking at him like that, touching him like that, it suddenly takes a whole new meaning. It's a similar sort of special that Nyota had him feeling on occasion, something he's yet to really pin down. ]

Thank you.

[ And that's more emotion in his voice than has been there for a majority of their conversations, including since he arrived here. Something with awe and gratitude and maybe a little surprise. Because while he can't entirely pin the meaning of this moment, he knows enough that it comes from a place of compassion, their knowledge of each other, and maybe even love on some level.

His hand has come up to mirror Jim's, wrapping lightly around his wrist and feeling the pulse beneath his touch. He feels... at a loss for words. ] Jim...

[ It's definitely a different kind of special that he means. Not special as in challenging, not special as in difficult, or unpleasant. But then he's stopped finding Spock unpleasant a long time ago.

He means it in a good, wonderful way. Spock is special. More so than anyone seems to give him credit for.

The way his voice falters and comes down heavy with the weight of emotion almost catches Jim by surprise, his eyes a little wider. He knows, realistically, that his fingers pressed against Spock's face do nothing, but it still feels to him like the connection is stronger thanks to it, and when Spock's own hand curls around his wrist makes him suck in a breath. He keeps moving closer without even thinking about it, until he can sense Spock's breath against him when he mutters his name like that.

He presses in and swallows the syllable halfway through, before it's done leaving Spock's lips, pressing his own over them in an intense, thoughtless kiss. ]

[ It's not often Spock's brain turns off. It's always a constant litany of something or other, even if it's just calculating the passage of time. When it truly goes quiet, it reminds what quiet actually is, the silence deafening all on its own.

There have been a few times he's had these because of Jim. One such moment was when he had him by the neck on the Enterprise's bridge and realized what he'd done. Another was when they were separated by glass... This has a distinctly different and very unique touch that those other two didn't, but he's not thinking about that right now. Not thinking about anything, really.

He does push back, though. Only slightly, enough to return the kiss like it's somehow an instinct rather than impulse. It is intense, hence the brain turning off thing, and he doesn't entirely know what to do with it aside from return it.

His body catches up to the reality before his mind does, and he gasps into the kiss like he's surprised after the fact but doesn't pull away. Maybe it's just something about being overwhelmed because that's happening, too. ]

[ It's not really something that requires a lot of thinking, to be fair. Maybe some thinking prior to it, but the water and the mind meld and whatever else is floating around in their heads has seen to that, and Jim's decided, like he often decides things in his life, that it's best to just plunge in.

In the heat of the moment, he's not at all sorry for that choice. His head tilts and his lips part to deepen the kiss, the gasp only serving to further encourage him, and his hand moves up to weave through Spock's hair, probably making a mess of it as he runs the nails over his head and down to his nape, thumb brushing briefly over the tipped shell of his ear.

Whatever might happen once they part, it's evidently not something he's thinking about right now. Then again, he's not thinking about much of anything other than their kiss. ]

[ As soon as Jim deepens the kiss, Spock's hands land where his shoulders meet neck. It's unclear whether the intention is to stop him or pull him closer since they just stay there as if to hold on.

But the rest of his body does move closer, chest to chest, returning the kiss. His thoughts feel like fog and replying to the best of his ability is taking most if not all of his concentration right now. The only thing that might be even a little alarming is the surprise he feels way in the back of his mind, intentionally muted to just let the moment be. ]

[ He isn't really registering how long the kiss lasts; maybe it's a few seconds, maybe it's several minutes. It does keep going for a while, though, the feelings and sensations only growing the more intense, seemingly as though nothing could possibly break this connection between them.

He doesn't know when it tips to overwhelming. He doesn't know if it's Spock's hands on his neck, or the press of chest to chest, though what he doesn't realize is that the water's dwindling effects do make that impulse subside, and his head clears. For long enough for him to realize what he's doing, to notice who he's kissing, to remember that he started it.

He breaks away with a sudden gasp, hands on Spock's shoulders. Even that touch feels like an inexcusable abuse of Spock's trust and friendship, and he pulls his hands back too, covering his own mouth. ]

Spock. I... [ Holy shit, what does he even say? ] I'm... I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me.

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