He was so tired. So sore. Mostly his ass was sore. Jim shifted and winced, and an arm tightened around his torso as he lay on his back. He glanced to his left and saw a contented sleeping Vulcan, possessive even in his slumber. Jim sighed. It was endearing, but he really did want to get up. He looked across the room to his right, toward the bed. They had to have been at it for hours now as Jim came in and out of consciousness, both from sheer exhaustion and from the crazy things Spock seemed to be doing to his mind, and they still hadn't made it to the bed. Jim had rug burns on his rug burns. He looked longingly across the room at the soft silken sheets the Vulcan normally indulged in. He wouldn't have thought Spock to be so indulgent, expecting to find only regulation starched cotton, but there it was. An oasis... but just out of reach.

Not only that, but he was desperately thirsty. What had it been... a day now? But of course Spock never kept a chronometer in his rooms - innate Vulcan sense of time and all of that. The computer console was missing, he noted as he looked around as best he could from the floor. The room was stark. Jim remembered hearing something about precautionary measures, and Spock's things being sent to storage somewhere. So. No way to know what day it was.

He looked over Spock's shoulder at the bathroom. He had to piss desperately, and he half thought he had to shit, but a) that might just be the bucketloads of cum and b) he wasn't so certain he wanted to attempt anything so... strenuous, if he didn't have to. Still, he had to take a leak and he had to get some fluids in him. His mouth was dry as a desert in this heat. He didn't know how Spock could stand it.

He carefully, subtly, tried to shift out of Spock's grasp. After a few millimetres, the hold tightened and Spock's eyes flew open. Jim met the gaze, and it was unreadable.

"Spock." Jim whispered with a hoarse, dry voice. "Let me go use the head." He wriggled.

A low growl was his answer.

Jim stilled himself, pursing his lips in thought. He could feel a dangerous sense of territorialism buzzing around in the back of his head. He sighed. It figured Spock had to go all crazy at a time like this. Vulcan logic be damned.

Jim looked at Spock pleadingly, then shifted his eyes to the 'fresher, then back, trying to communicate his need but not trying to pull away.

Spock languidly ground his newly forming erection against Jim's hip.

Shit. This wasn't headed in the right direction. "Spock." Jim tried again.

"T'hy'la." Spock answered with a contented smile.

"I have to pee. And I'm thirsty."

No response. More grinding.

In a bout of frustration, Jim grabbed Spock's hand and pressed it to his psi-points, projecting the image of the bathroom, his desperation to pee, to get a drink, as hard as he could. He knew it would be a clumsy attempt, but for a moment, he swore Spock's eyes cleared slightly and the incessant grinding stopped. He tried to project reassurance that he'd come back, and again shifted away from the Vulcan, overwhelmed with relief that it was allowed. As quickly as he could he made his way to the head, stumbling on unsteady legs as he want there, and he could feel Spock's intent gaze boring a hole into him as he left.

Jim actually moaned as he felt the urine leaving his over full bladder. God, this in itself was orgasmic enough, never mind the last however-many-hours. He looked at himself in the mirror and had to grin. He was filthy, covered bruises and bite marks, rug burns and cum, and looked like he hadn't slept for a good long time. But he was so happy. Content. He looked thoroughly debauched, and it made him snicker. Here he'd thought Spock to be the innocent one, but the Vulcan had sure showed him a thing or two. He took a moment to wipe his ass as well, searching for tearing or blood. As far as he could tell he wouldn't sit for a month but there was no substantial damage, miracle upon miracles. Then again there was an endless supply of natural lubricant up there at this point, and he'd been so thoroughly fucked that he didn't need much preparation any longer. He filled his bathroom cup with water and drank three full cups - wishing he had time and patience to get down more, but not wanting to make himself sick with it.

In the other room, Spock looked around in a panic. Already his mind was clouding with another bout of fever, and he couldn't remember where his mate had gone. Where was he? Why was Spock alone again? Abandoned, abandoned, always isolated and alone. He sat up, scrabbling the floor around him in desperation, as if looking for dropped keys. It was a ridiculous manoeuvre, but he was not thinking logically any longer. His eyes searched the room. It was no longer as dark. Someone had turned the lights up to a dim glow. His mate. His mate had done it, his mind supplied. Where was he?

Jim was hit full force with a sense of panic not his own, the low hum in the back of his mind flaring into a thunderous roar. "Fuck!" he shouted, his hands coming to his temples. Instant migraine. "Jesus, Spock, I'm right here!" he shouted testily. With a sigh he abandoned his water and came back into the room, only to be pinned against the wall almost exactly where he'd been pinned upon first entry. Deja vu.

Except this time Spock's sense of utter and complete relief was palpable, as he peppered Jim's face and head with human style kisses, murmuring in Vulcan all the way. Jim gave a small laugh. Jim tried to move away from the wall with Spock, to head him toward the welcoming bed, but Spock shoved him back against the wall with a growl of frustration and panic. Jim rolled his eyes, and put his hands to either side of Spock's face, halting his flurry of quick pecks and kissing him thoroughly on the mouth. Spock moaned, getting with the program, and ground his hardened cock against Kirk's own half interested one.

As clearly as he could, Jim projected an image of them on the bed across the room to Spock, doing any number of vaguely sexual things, and Spock's eyes lit with interest. A bed! What a novel idea! In a sudden rush of excitement, Spock grabbed Jim's wrist and dragged him over to the mattress, throwing him down atop it. Jim let himself fall. Finally! A fucking bed to do the fucking! Jim smiled and was more than happy to let Spock continue to have his way.