late, yes, but still on the mind. jim prefers quiet and so does spock, fortunately. privacy utilized, he lays a soft, open palm over his counterpart's resting hand. 'happy birthday, ashayam,' in his other is a gift. it's a holotape : recorded sounds and noises of old vulcan, traditional music, some personal picks, and an intergalactic orchestra courtesy of the noises emitted by past planets visited. he kneels to spock's side, and in endearing fashion presses his mouth to the other's palm.
time dwindles ; a concept forged even whilst time is unidentifiable, the darkness of foreign stars and mapped sectors existing without a set start or end. another day begins in their falsified calenderic construction, another day ends. and so he exists again and again, even within the space of time he has come to shy from. this day holds little to him in the face of all that has transpired, of all that had been destroyed. time dims this day’s life, and as he sits in meditation, he cannot help but reflect upon his own.gaze breaks from his inner speculation, eyes opening to the stillness of a familiar room. time commands him, and so he follows ; a creature bound to the whims of the universe, head down and solemn as legs unfurl and soul is once more confined to physicality. there is little noise here in this relative sanctum, the soft hum of the ship, at times, complementing the beat of his heart. he disrobes, shedding the last of his defenses as he falls beneath the covers of his half emptied bed, eyes closing as the soft scent of his incense fades, taking the concept of time with it.he’s awoken shortly after, a warmth pressing against his skin. eyes flutter open in the dark of their room, fingers twitching as he revels in the affection felt through touch. even in the ashen atmosphere, he can make out the details of jim’s face, beautiful even now. time continues to move forward as he stares openly, free hand moving to touch. he lets pads of fingers land across the other’s face, sliding down gently until a huff of air is released a symbol of jim’s amusement / love / kindness. ( TIME MAY TAKE AWAY HIS PAST, BUT IT CANNOT TAKE AWAY THE FUTURE HE SEES STANDING BEFORE HIM. )he moves to sit, letting covers pool across his abdomen as he turns, watching with fondness as his lover mumbles beneath his breath, lights rising to create an atmosphere as a mix between light and dark ; an equilibrium fitting for the wave of nostalgia / introspection he feels deep within chest. lids are heavy as the word ashayam strikes him harder than any weapon ever could. he imagines it akin to how a spearhead may feel piercing, sharp, yet inspires warmth not from the blood being spilt, but drawing it from souls destined to entwine.he forgoes shifting focus to gift, though he makes a note to use it when time is not pressing onwards, when knees of the other are not pressed to floor and when soft lips are not at his palm.there is so little hesitation now. hands pull away only to return, gentle as they cup the face of his captain. shock / awe / reverence. fingers move slowly as if in worship, trailing down neck and stopping where fabric begins. there is no sound as he urges him upwards, urges him to fall forwards into his embrace as lips meet, softly in a means to convey all that he feels. ( ALL THAT WORDS CANNOT. ) passion is dangerous, destructive. yet he lets it consume him, lets it drive actions faster, one hand holding this precious thing of fire / light / care, the other moving to run two fingers down the expanse of clothed arm, ending at wrist and holding as if time did not exist. ( THEY HAVE SO MUCH TIME AHEAD OF THEM. THEY HAVE SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR. )
‘ thank you, jim. ‘ breathed into the space between them, even as lips return quickly after, needing the grounding touch. he doesn’t wish to use words, doesn’t wish for barriers or misconstruction of meaning. instead he pulls tighter, closer, shifting hand previously stationed against jaw to slide downwards and away, reaching for the zipper at the back of uniform.
gummygunk
izzy806
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
2087
