Spock?

Spock?" Jim said, gripping his face

Spock?" Jim said, gripping his face, pleading with Spock to hear him. Spock's eyes were glazed over, his skin as hot as Jim had ever felt it. Jim was starving, but he was so tired that he could hardly open his eyes. His back ached; his pelvis was bruised from Spock's weight on him. He needed a shower. He needed ten minutes with his eyes closed.

"We need to sleep. Spock, please," he choked out. "Just for a little while."

Spock growled low in his throat, but he stopped his advance. His palms were so warm, almost uncomfortably hot where they clenched Jim's shoulders. Jim combed his fingers through Spock's hair, smoothing it where it stuck to his forehead.

"Come on," Jim whispered. "Please." Spock's eyes fluttered closed. He nodded once, and Jim lowered his head to the pillow. His breathing deepened, and he dropped immediately into a dream state.

Spock was chasing him through a jungle, crouching beside the trail to mask himself in a tangle of foliage. Jim trembled as the leaves trembled overhead. He tripped, catching himself on his palms. He skinned them, but there was no time to clean his hands. He wiped the dirt on his pants and continued to run—

Spock's lips pressed to his shoulder woke him, the first tender action in two days. Jim felt his body pulled into a sitting position, resting against a firm, cool chest. Spock brought something to his lips (water?) and he drank willingly, felt it coat his tongue and gums, leak out of his mouth before he could swallow all of it.

"Drink," Spock whispered and smoothed Jim's hair. Jim drank what water there was in the glass, and Spock helped him to lie back down. Jim lay half sleeping while Spock pulled the sheets from half of the bed and rolled Jim onto it while he removed the other half. He dressed half of the bed in a new sheet, and rolled Jim back to his rightful place. He covered him with clean blankets after he sponged his body with a warm cloth.

"Sleep," he said sweetly, kissing Jim again, before crawling back into the bed and holding him.

Jim slept for hours, waking up in an afternoon. He had no sense of what day it was. He stumbled into the shower, into clean robes, into the kitchen for coffee to quell the headache that throbbed in his temples. It was difficult to walk, but there hadn't been any blood in the shower. That was...good, he supposed. The rest was just bruising.

"Sit down," Spock said, coming into the kitchen from the common room. He must've heard Jim moving around. "I will get you whatever you wish."

"Coffee," Jim croaked and fell into the chair opposite the window. "Gallons and gallons of it."

"Of course," Spock said and set the machine to brew. Jim protested when Spock first bought it, because coffee machines were extravagant, and importing the beans was expensive. But the southern continent had proven suitable for cultivation (Vulcans didn't touch the stuff, but the volunteers definitely did), which meant Jim had a never-ending supply of Vulcan's Best.

Through the window, I-Chaya was munching on a plomeek leaf. Jim smiled at the sight, even though he knew it meant they'd have to replicate most of the plomeek for the season. Spock served him coffee with a sprinkling of a local spice that pleasantly burned his tongue. The closest Terran comparison he could think of was cinnamon, but this was hotter and more bitter. It woke up the coffee's flavor.

"Thanks," he said and gratefully took a sip. It was too hot to drink, but he drank anyway, let it swirl around his mouth. The roof of his mouth would peel tomorrow, but he just winced against the burn and swallowed. Spock usually sat across from him, but he pulled up the adjacent chair and rested a hand on Jim's shoulder. Jim sighed and reached his own to cover it.

"I love you," Spock said. Jim could feel it in every cell, like a blanket wrapped around every part of him. He closed his eyes.

I know.
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Результаты (русский) 1: [копия]
Скопировано!
Spock?" Jim said, gripping his face, pleading with Spock to hear him. Spock's eyes were glazed over, his skin as hot as Jim had ever felt it. Jim was starving, but he was so tired that he could hardly open his eyes. His back ached; his pelvis was bruised from Spock's weight on him. He needed a shower. He needed ten minutes with his eyes closed. "We need to sleep. Spock, please," he choked out. "Just for a little while."Spock growled low in his throat, but he stopped his advance. His palms were so warm, almost uncomfortably hot where they clenched Jim's shoulders. Jim combed his fingers through Spock's hair, smoothing it where it stuck to his forehead. "Come on," Jim whispered. "Please." Spock's eyes fluttered closed. He nodded once, and Jim lowered his head to the pillow. His breathing deepened, and he dropped immediately into a dream state. Spock was chasing him through a jungle, crouching beside the trail to mask himself in a tangle of foliage. Jim trembled as the leaves trembled overhead. He tripped, catching himself on his palms. He skinned them, but there was no time to clean his hands. He wiped the dirt on his pants and continued to run—Spock's lips pressed to his shoulder woke him, the first tender action in two days. Jim felt his body pulled into a sitting position, resting against a firm, cool chest. Spock brought something to his lips (water?) and he drank willingly, felt it coat his tongue and gums, leak out of his mouth before he could swallow all of it. "Drink," Spock whispered and smoothed Jim's hair. Jim drank what water there was in the glass, and Spock helped him to lie back down. Jim lay half sleeping while Spock pulled the sheets from half of the bed and rolled Jim onto it while he removed the other half. He dressed half of the bed in a new sheet, and rolled Jim back to his rightful place. He covered him with clean blankets after he sponged his body with a warm cloth."Sleep," he said sweetly, kissing Jim again, before crawling back into the bed and holding him. Jim slept for hours, waking up in an afternoon. He had no sense of what day it was. He stumbled into the shower, into clean robes, into the kitchen for coffee to quell the headache that throbbed in his temples. It was difficult to walk, but there hadn't been any blood in the shower. That was...good, he supposed. The rest was just bruising. "Sit down," Spock said, coming into the kitchen from the common room. He must've heard Jim moving around. "I will get you whatever you wish.""Coffee," Jim croaked and fell into the chair opposite the window. "Gallons and gallons of it.""Of course," Spock said and set the machine to brew. Jim protested when Spock first bought it, because coffee machines were extravagant, and importing the beans was expensive. But the southern continent had proven suitable for cultivation (Vulcans didn't touch the stuff, but the volunteers definitely did), which meant Jim had a never-ending supply of Vulcan's Best. Through the window, I-Chaya was munching on a plomeek leaf. Jim smiled at the sight, even though he knew it meant they'd have to replicate most of the plomeek for the season. Spock served him coffee with a sprinkling of a local spice that pleasantly burned his tongue. The closest Terran comparison he could think of was cinnamon, but this was hotter and more bitter. It woke up the coffee's flavor."Thanks," he said and gratefully took a sip. It was too hot to drink, but he drank anyway, let it swirl around his mouth. The roof of his mouth would peel tomorrow, but he just winced against the burn and swallowed. Spock usually sat across from him, but he pulled up the adjacent chair and rested a hand on Jim's shoulder. Jim sighed and reached his own to cover it. "I love you," Spock said. Jim could feel it in every cell, like a blanket wrapped around every part of him. He closed his eyes. I know.
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Результаты (русский) 2:[копия]
Скопировано!
Спок? "Сказал Джим, сжимая его лицо, умоляя Спока , чтобы услышать его. Глаза Спока были потускнел, его кожа так жарко , как Джим никогда не чувствовал. Джим голодал, но он был настолько усталым , что он едва мог открыть глаза . его спина болела, его таз был в синяках от веса Спока на него ему нужен душ ему нужно десять минут с закрытыми глазами...

"Мы должны спать. Спок, пожалуйста, "выдавил он." Просто на некоторое время. "

Спок зарычал низко в горле, но он остановил его продвижение. Его ладони были настолько теплыми, почти невыносимо жаркой , где они сжались плечи Джима. Джим причесаны пятерню волосы Спока, разглаживая ее , где она прилипла к его лбу.

"Давай," прошептал Джим. "Пожалуйста." глаза Спока развевались закрыты. он кивнул, и Джим опустил голову на подушку. его дыхание углубляется, и он тут же упал в состоянии сна.

Спок преследовал его через джунгли, присев рядом с тропы , чтобы замаскировать себя в путанице листвы. Джим дрожала, листья трепетали над головой. Он споткнулся, ловлю себя на ладони. Он кожурой их, но не было нет времени , чтобы очистить его руки. Он вытер грязь на его штаны и продолжал RUN-

губы Спока прижата к его плечу разбудил его, первый тендер действие в течение двух дней. Джим почувствовал , что его тело втягивается в сидячем положении, упираясь фирмы , остудить грудь. Спок принес что - то к его губам (вода?) , и он пил охотно, чувствовал , что это пальто его язык и десны, вытекать из его рта прежде , чем он мог проглотить все это.

"Пей," прошептал Спок и сглажены волосы Джима , Джим выпил то , что вода была в стакане, и Спок помог ему лечь обратно. Джим лежал наполовину спать в то время как Спок вытащил листы от половины кровати и проката Джима на него , пока он снял вторую половину. Одевался он половину кровати в новом листе, и покатился Джим вернулся к своему законному месту. Он покрыл его чистым одеялом после того как он его тело губкой с теплой тканью.

"Сон" , сказал он сладко, снова целуя Джима, перед сканированием обратно в кровать и держа его.

Джим спал в течение нескольких часов, проснувшись днем. У него не было никакого смысла , в какой день это было. Он споткнулся в душ, в чистые одеяния, в кухню для кофе , чтобы успокоить головную боль , что стучало в висках. Это было трудно ходить, но там не было никакой крови в душе. Это было ... хорошо, предположил он. Остальное было просто кровоподтеки.

"Садись," сказал Спок, входя в кухню из общей комнаты. Должно быть , он слышал , Джим движется вокруг. "Я буду получать вам все , что вы хотите."

"Кофе" Джим прохрипел и упал в кресло напротив окна. "Галлоны и галлоны его" .

"Конечно," сказал Спок и поставил машину , чтобы заварить. Джим протестовали , когда Спок впервые купил его, потому что кофе - машины были экстравагантны, и импорт бобов было дорого. Но южный континент доказал подходит для выращивания (вулканцы не трогали вещи, но волонтеры определенно сделал), что означало , Джим был нескончаемый запас Vulcan лучше.

Через окно я-Хая был жевали на plomeek лист. Джим улыбнулся при виде, несмотря на то, что он знал , что это означало , что они должны были бы повторить большую часть plomeek в течение сезона. Спок служил ему кофе с вкраплениями местной специи , которые приятно обжег язык. Ближайший Terran сравнение он мог думать о корицу, но это было горячее и более горьким. Он проснулся кофейном в аромате.

"Спасибо," сказал он и с благодарностью отхлебнул. Это было слишком жарко , чтобы пить, но он все равно выпил, пусть он вертеться вокруг его рта. Крыша у него изо рта будет лупить завтра, но он только поморщился от ожога и проглотил. Спок обычно сидел напротив него, но он подтянул соседний стул и положил руку на плечо Джима. Джим вздохнул и достиг своего , чтобы покрыть это.

"Я люблю тебя," сказал Спок. Джим мог чувствовать это в каждой клетке, как одеяло , обернутой вокруг каждой его части. Он закрыл глаза.

Я знаю.
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