Warnings: Dubious consent or nonconsent; violence; kink; bondage; drug use (kind of)
Captain Kirk toyed the slender glass vial in his hand, contemplating the opportunity it gave him. Since the Science department had begun work on this project just under a year ago, Jim had had been paying closer attention to the progress it made than was strictly necessary. And when an expected, yet still remarkable, breakthrough was made, the captain had it explained to him thoroughly.
Stopping his unconscious pacing, he set the small vial on his desk and leaned heavily onto the table. Inside this unassuming vial was a powerful hormone cocktail that would simulate the effects of Pon Farr.
‘It wouldn’t be exactly the same, Captain,’ the words of the Science Officer leading the program echoed in Jim’s memory. ‘The way it is now, the effect comes on in a matter of minutes, rather than days as is typical with Vulcans. And it isn’t as powerful as the real thing. As best we can tell, the full effect of the hormone complex only reaches about 70% of a natural Pon Farr. The volunteer subjects have been incredibly helpful through all of this. It’s just amazing how a Vulcan’s mind computes information like it does!’
Jim understood the importance of this research, that it meant a private culture allowing a long-held secret open to public view. And while that was good and all, Jim had other things in mind, his own reasons for following the research so closely.
Pushing his nervousness away, Jim picked the bottle up and studied it intently.
Ever since his own experience with Pon Farr, a year and a half ago when Spock had gone into blood-fever, when the Vulcan had thought he had killed Jim in the madness of it, ever since that absurd and utterly unique week, Jim had wanted, had needed to find out more about Pon Farr. Seeing his friend like that, knowing the primal drive overtook him so entirely, it … well, it frightened him. Spock, always so cool, emotionless, and in control, so snidely logical; that was the Spock that Jim knew and understood.
A year and a half ago, Spock wrapped the weapon, the Ahn’woon, around Jim’s neck with the intention to squeeze the life out of him. Though the lifeless effect had been a result of the drug Doctor McCoy had given him, Jim had still felt the fabric around his neck, saw the compassionless Spock above him, heat in his eyes, completely without control, without even ability to recognize the man beneath him as his closest friend. Jim shook his head to clear the thought. Even now, almost 18 months later, his stomach turned cold at the memory of it.
The worst of it all was that he couldn’t understand it all. Sure, Jim was far from the emotionless and logical First Officer, but he too had a remarkable control over his own mind and body. His will power was stronger than most, Jim knew that. The whole idea of Pon Farr terrified him. He wished he knew what exactly Spock had to go through. Maybe then he could help him next time it happened. Maybe there would be another way to …
Jim’s thoughts trailed off, and he turned his attention back to the vial of liquid in his hand. All he had to do was inject himself with the hormone cocktail. The effects would start almost immediately. Jim looked once again over the chart he had copied from the lab at his last visit. The effects would begin at about 10% strength; within 4 minutes it would raise to 20%. Four minutes later, 30%, and so on until capping out, and staying, at 70%. The captain pushed the paper away.
‘Seventy percent is enough to really grasp at understanding’, he told himself. ‘And it is also low enough to still control myself.’
Jim stood up again, and locked his door. He knew what he would do. He had a large bottle of lube sitting by his bed, along with a hypo he had swiped from sickbay. Jim would sit on his bed, in his locked room, inject himself with the cocktail and masturbate into a frenzy until the fire of Pon Farr subsided. For good measure, he would cuff his ankle to the bedpost to prevent himself leaving. And since the effects came on gradually, he would, if need be, go find Bones in sickbay. But he sincerely doubted that would be necessary. After all, he was only experiencing 70 percent of the true effect of Pon Farr. A good taste, but not the full thing. He had just over 14 hours until his next shift rotation. Even if he had to masturbate the entire time, there was no way he would need longer than that to subdue the artificially made blood-fire.
Jim stood up quickly, the thought of time spurring him to action. He grabbed the vial and headed to his bed. He sat near the head and, taking a deep breath, reached down to lock his ankle to the bedpost. He slipped the key into the drawer in front of him. Ignoring the bottle of lube sitting beside it, he reached for the hypo. Jim licked his lips in nervous anticipation and clicked the vial into place.
Single-mindedly, Jim rolled up his left sleeve and without a moment’s hesitation stabbed the needle into his vein. He pushed and the liquid entered his bloodstream.
Sighing with relief that the action was done, Jim pulled the needle out and tossed it carefully onto the bed stand. He leaned back onto his other arm waiting for the effects of the hormones to begin.
Hot. Jim’s eyes snapped open. A wave of intense heat rolled over his entire body, drowning out all other sensation, causing him to gasp audibly, almost in pain. In the next instant, Jim’s mind fogged. For a moment, he forgot what he was, who he was, what was going on. All was the heat of his body. Anger. Desperation. Lust. He came back into focus, looking around the room wildly, remembering the circumstances.
“Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Jim was suddenly overwhelmed with panic. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what he had expected. This was supposed to start slow, start mild, build up to the intensity. His body was humming; his hands were shaking as he reached for the drawer in front of him.
‘This isn’t right. Got to get out of here. Get help fast. Help now.’ Jim’s mind was spinning. Thinking was difficult, like trying to run underwater. But he understood one thing very clearly: if this was the beginning, and it was going to get worse, he could not handle it alone. He needed to get this reversed, get a sedative, something.
Finally, he managed to grab the key in his shaking fingers. He reached down, struggling to get the small key into a seemingly impossibly tiny keyhole. After 30 seconds that seemed an eternity, he managed to get the lock undone. He stood up. His head reeled, and he had to lean against the wall for support. A deep, steadying breath, and he was walking to the door.
With a schlick!, the door closed behind him. He was out in the hall. The lights glared at him from above. His eyes darted around quickly. No one around. Relief and desperation flooded him. Now what? Jim blinked against a roll of heat. ‘Sickbay.’ He took a hurried step in that direction, and then froze. No, it was too far. He didn’t have even three minutes before the next level of the effect took hold.
Jim whirled around, panic in his throat. Almost running, he made it down the hall and entered his First Officer’s quarters without invitation.
The Vulcan looked up calmly from where he sat reading at his desk. As soon as he saw the look in his captain’s face, he stood up alarmed. “Captain, what…”
“I didn’t know, Spock! Oh God, I didn’t know!” he gasped wildly, his eyes wide. “I thought I … your willpower …” Jim howled as though in pain.
Spock rushed to his side, grabbing his arm protectively. “Jim, what has happened?”
Jim was overcome with emotion. A heat of lust, of violent desperation swept over him. He cried out, unable to think. He craved. Oh God, he craved. He craved to own. He needed to take what he wished for, to plunder, to destroy anything that might stop him. His head swam as he tried to regain control enough to talk.
“The drug – no – a hormone, it’s…” Jim struggled to get the words out, his eyes clenched tight and his hand gripping Spock’s arm. “I wanted to… you might need …I thought…”
Spock’s logical mind was having no luck following the chaotic and frantic words of the obviously pained man. He grasped him tighter, pulling him closer into his own body. The captain was shaking. Jim, his closest and most loved friend, was burning hot to the touch and trembling violently. He obviously needed medical attention.
“…thought if I understood,” Jim moaned.
“What is it, Jim? What happened to you?” Spock looked down at his friend. Jim gripped him tighter and howled aloud, his knees quivering. Spock began to pull away, moving toward the comm link. He needed to call sickbay as soon as possible, that much was apparent.
“Gnn…Spock, I’m sorry,” Jim gasped, not letting go of Spock’s arm. “Pon…gnn ...Pon Farr.”
Spock spun around in an instant. His keen eyes looked him over anew. Heat, pain, mind unable to work at full capacity. The Vulcan glanced at the captain’s groin. Yes, the obvious signs of intense arousal were there. Could it really be? The pieces came together in his head: a hormone, Jim had said. The research program on Pon Farr had recently created a hormone complex that the captain may have been able to access, if he’d desired. But why?
Jim was finding it almost impossible to keep control anymore. He kept his eyes closed tight, afraid to allow his consciousness access to the outside world. The lust he felt was becoming more powerful, overtaking all other emotions. He felt the fabric of his pants push against his erection with the power of a cage. He needed to free himself, he needed to push into something. This wasn’t mere lust for sex, this was even more primal than that. This was the lust to mate, to have a partner to own, to take and make his forever. He needed to mark, no, more than mark; he needed to become one with his partner, to forever be bonded with a partner that would be forever and ever his and his alone.
Adrenaline was coursing through him. He felt the power of it in his blood. He felt like he could rip open the wall to get to his partner. His partner…wait. Where was his partner? Jim howled again, squeezing into his own leg, trying not to lose himself to the madness.
Spock stared at his friend, howling in agony. Had Jim done this for him? ‘Thought if I understood’, he had said. He knew Jim was protective of him, and foolhardy enough to do something like this.
Jim was lost in his head, the need for connection overpowering him. He craved something he had never had a concept of before, a connection so deep it touched his soul. He needed it, he had to have it, had to take it. He craved a partner to push into, not just in body but in soul. Where was his partner? Where?!
His eyes burst open, looking around wildly. They landed on Spock, still standing staring at him. Suddenly, Jim was flooded with a new emotion. ‘Of course!’ he thought. ‘It’s Spock!’ His best friend, the one person he trusted more than himself, who he spent time with, on and off rotation. His mental challenge, his guiding morality, his protector and protectee. The clarity washed over him like cool water. But within an instant, the cool feeling of clarity was reborn as the fire of incredible lust, scorching Jim’s thoughts. Jim growled deep in his throat.
Spock heard his friend emit a low noise and automatically steadied himself. Jim launched himself at Spock, almost knocking him to the ground. His hands groped forcefully the length of his body as if trying to reach inside of the Vulcan. The front of Spock’s shirt ripped away into the hands of the human. Back on balance, Spock reached to knock Jim’s hand away. He had to stop him. He knew that Jim would never forgive himself if he assaulted the larger man and Spock had to spare Jim that guilt. He went for his neck, going for the nerve pinch, but Jim ducked and hit the Vulcan’s arm down forcefully.
Spock tried again. Jim jumped forward into Spock, biting his upper arm and knocking him back a few steps.
Spock’s wrists were both held by Jim’s strong hands now. The Vulcan attempted to free himself from the grip, but the mad captain did not let loose. With the hormones rushing in Jim’s veins, it seemed Spock was no longer able to overpower the human with strength alone. For the first time, Spock began to think the situation might be more dire than previously thought. He needed to be in control so that Jim could not hurt himself. He needed to make sure Jim was safe, no matter what.
Spock side-swept the captain’s knees, but Jim barely stumbled and did not let go of his wrists. He growled loudly, a murderous look in his eyes. Spock was bodily flung to the ground, barely missing hitting the corner of his desk. Before he could push himself up Jim was on top of him, a knee in his back pushing his chest into the hard floor. His arms were jerked behind his back, Jim’s grip firm like a command. The feel of fabric against his wrists pulled against his skin, and in a moment his hands were tied fast behind his back.
Jim grabbed Spock by the arm and pulled him roughly to his knees facing him. He grabbed his chin and lifted it. A smile looked down on Spock, but it did not leave Spock feeling comforted. The Vulcan saw that Jim was losing control and fast. At this point, he wasn’t sure what the options were. Sickbay was just a call away, but even a powerful sedative would only delay the strength of the Pon Farr. There was only one way known to eliminate Pon Farr, and that was to satiate it.
His eyes jumped down at the sound of a zipper being undone. Jim’s full erection displayed itself directly in front of Spock’s face. Spock’s breath hitched in a very un-Vulcan-like manner. Instinctively, unconsciously, he licked his lips. Jim pushed the head of his penis onto the lips of the Vulcan, looking for entry. When the lips did not automatically part, the captain grabbed Spock’s hair violently, jerking his head back and giving it a brief and pointed shake. Deciding the most logical course of action would be to let the captain have his way in order to help relieve the blood fire, in part or in full, Spock let his lips fall open.
Immediately, his mouth was filled with the hot length of Jim’s cock. Having had the foresight to have breathed in a full breath of air before allowing Jim access to his mouth, Spock figured he could stand going without breath for 1.2 minutes at most before finding discomfort in the situation. However, when Jim thrust in for the second time, the intruding cock pushed hard against the back of Spock’s throat. Spock had somehow not expected it to be so large. No matter, some bruising was to be expected. And, he mused, still calm in his thoroughly Vulcan manner, he found the fullness oddly exciting, in a way he wasn’t sure how to quantify.
Jim was beyond thinking in words now; indeed he was beyond thinking at all. His mind had lost the fogginess that had so recently plagued him, replaced by a sharpness found only in a mind devoid of thought. Like an animal, he experienced and was aware but thought was not driving him, only passion. As he looked down at the face of the man below him, he felt a satisfaction in the feel of it all. The feel of lips being stretched wide over his erection, the warmth of the mouth, the pressure of it. His hands slid roughly through the black hair, messing it up. Yes, messing that perfectly kept hair, making Spock experience some passion for once in his ordered Vulcan life. He locked eyes Spock; Spock’s eyes did not mirror the intensity he felt in himself. Fire exploded over Jim, a rage of confusion. Why did Spock not burn as he did!? He would make him feel the fire!
Jim grabbed the hair lower on the back of the skull, a better position to control Spock’s head. Violently, he rammed his cock into the Vulcan’s mouth to its full depth. Spock’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Taking that as a sign of Spock’s own fire igniting, he pulled his cock out, feeling it slide against the man’s tongue, and plunged it back in with as much force as before. He could see Spock losing some of his calm demeanor, subtle as it was, but goddamn it everything was so subtle with the Vulcan. He started up a steady rhythm, pulling his dick out until just the head remained then slamming it back in until his pubic hair pushed up against Spock’s face. God, it felt so good, the friction relieving some of the burning in his blood, the idea that Spock might be thrown off balance by him, sharing in the same passion.
Spock had indeed lost some of his usual calm. Jim’s penis was launching itself with force down his throat repeatedly and without pause. He could feel Jim’s emotions in a distant kind of way, the way he could feel anyone he was in direct physical contact with. Far from a mind-meld, it was almost like listening to a comm link with the volume set on low: Spock was disconnected from it, but aware of the emotions Jim was feeling. Pon Farr was a powerful intoxicant. It surprised him, however, how mild the passion of the blood fire felt to him. It was quite obviously the onset of it, not nearly in full force.
This thought worried Spock greatly. He had heard of no research done involving the effects of the hormones on humans; indeed, the research being done currently had only full-blooded Vulcan participants. The Science Officer hypothesized, a feeling of dismay coming with the thought, that humans, who were already such emotional creatures, would not have the mental capacity and discipline to control Pon Farr. It would seem that Jim, though experiencing what felt to Spock as only mild effects, was already almost entirely consumed by the blood fever. If the feeling intensified, as Spock had every reason to assume it would, Jim may not be able to withstand it at all.
As it was, Spock was finding it slightly rattling to be assaulted as he was by his commanding officer. Truth be told, it wasn’t the act itself that was causing his calm to be shaken; he was familiar with the types of activities that might occur during Pon Farr, though he had never experienced them himself. No, it was the odd sensation in himself that he found out of the ordinary. There was a warmth in his core and a distinct arousal building in him, though that could, he supposed, be explained by the feeling of Pon Farr leaking to him from Jim’s consciousness. But there was also a kind of yearning. That was the closest word he could associate with it in any case. Even as the hard head of Jim’s penis was pummeling his throat, he found it oddly … pleasurable.
Aside from this line of thought, there was something more pressing currently at hand. He was beginning to need a breath of air, and there was no sign that the captain was close to stopping. His hands bound and his mouth full, he had no way to communicate that he was out of air. Every passing second made the urgency more pronounced in Spock’s awareness. When Spock’s eyes began to see stars from the lack of oxygen, he bit down lightly on the pistoning penis. Jim growled quietly, but did not stop. Spock bit down harder, enough to cause pain without real damage. Jim shouted, ripping his cock from Spock’s mouth and slapping him hard across the face.
Spock’s eyes danced with stars now for a different reason. He gasped in a breath of air as the slap knocked him to the floor. This was too far out of his control. As Jim grabbed his hair again and pulled him up to his knees, Spock ruminated on his options. He could try to overpower the captain. However, not only would that prove difficult and possibly cause physical harm to the human, what course of action would follow? The Pon Farr would still remain unsatiated, which itself had the potential to harm the human both physically and mentally. Indeed it still proved more logical to allow the human to burn through the Pon Farr. However, Spock couldn’t last being assaulted in his throat as he was, and it was likely that Jim would eventually turn his attention to another orifice to satisfy the urges. Were that to be the case, it would be possible for Spock himself to be injured. Though unconcerned for his own safety (after all, the Vulcan could heal from injury well enough with time), Spock was concerned at the guilt Jim would feel after this ordeal had ended. He needed to mitigate that guilt as much as possible, and to do that, he would have to allow the least amount of damage be done to both parties.
The Vulcan’s eyes darted to his desk where several pieces of machinery lay in various states of repair. With them was a bottle of machine lubricant. That Jim would be cognizant enough to communicate with was not something that Spock could rely on. He had to regain enough control to at least get to the lubricant.
As Spock’s mouth was once again filled with the demanding penis of the irate captain, Spock began to work on breaking free of the fabric tying his hands into place. He relaxed his mouth and attempted to angle his head to allow deeper penetration into – and less brute force onto – his throat. The human moaned in what sounded to be a pleased way and loosened his hold on the Vulcan’s hair.
Spock twisted his hands, assessing the give in the fabric. He pulled against it and worked his dexterous Vulcan fingers into any available openings. The knotting was tight, but it had give.
Jim pulled up on his hair suddenly, and his dick slid out of Spock’s open mouth. He jerked Spock backward, shuffling him sideways awkwardly. Jim kept one hand in the mess of black hair and with the other tugged his own pants down. They only went a few inches, landing halfway down his ass, but it was enough for him. He stood one leg on the chair jutting out from the desk and braced himself from the new position. He tightened his hold on Spock’s hair, pleased to see the fair-skinned man with sweat glistening on his face. Spock’s cheeks were flushed an enticing shade of copper. Jim smirked in egotistic satisfaction.
The captain was feeling the fire engulfing him again. The slide of tongue over his cock and the pressure of the Vulcan’s throat was beginning to no longer dull the ardent hum of the human’s body. He needed more, dammit!
Jim repositioned himself in front of the opening of Spock’s mouth. The Vulcan’s mouth opened willingly and Jim pushed in lustfully. He held the man’s face in his hands, cupping his head beneath the ears. Gnn…this angle was so good. He could get the full pressure, have full control, nothing holding him back from slamming his cock down his First Officer’s throat.
Spock had the knot almost undone when the captain began his work down his throat anew. The angle of Jim standing slightly higher over him allowed the human’s dick to slide down his throat with no barriers. Jim’s pubic hair was rough as it scratched against Spock’s smooth face. The smell of his captain was eliciting a strange response in Spock. It was evoking a sense of comfort. With the rough pounding of a dick in his throat and the intensity of Pon Farr echoing through Jim’s mind to him, comforted was the last thing he would have expected to feel. Yet something about the rich, animal smell brought Spock into the action and out of his mind. It wasn’t a cool sense of comfort, like that reached before falling asleep; this comfort was steeped in arousal and passion.
‘Thoroughly illogical,’ Spock decided, but he didn’t push it from his mind.
The knot now undone and the fabric dangling from one hand, the Vulcan settled into the rhythm of the pistoning cock. It was a powerful feeling, he decided, and not altogether uncomfortable. There was something …satisfying? … in the mildly painful feeling of Jim’s blunt head ramming into him. It was something like a good exercise regimen: the discomfort gave him a sense of his own power. The smell of sweat, both his and Jim’s, added to the state of things. It felt masculine. The whole affair had a distinct aura of strength and masculinity and for a reason Spock did not know that excited him.
Another minute went by and Spock began to feel the need for air again. Quickly, his arms shot up, dislodging the hands from around his head. He brought his elbows down, landing just inside of Jim’s hipbones, the tender area above the pubis. Jim stumbled backward. Seizing his chance, Spock jumped up, grabbing the jar of lubricant, and spun around quickly to face Jim. The captain looked stunned, and livid. Spock assessed the situation in an instant. He had to buy time to lube himself, in case Jim tied his hands again.
Spock lunged at the captain, pushing him into the grated wall behind the desk. His face was an inch away from Jim’s. Their eyes locked, and Jim’s stare pierced into Spock. The Vulcan felt the human’s breath ragged on his face and shivered. They stood there for a moment, not moving, staring into each other’s eyes. Then Spock dropped to the ground, pressed his forearm firmly into Jim’s abdomen, and plunged his open mouth onto his captain’s waiting cock.
The response was exactly what he was hoping for. Above him, Jim’s head dropped back as he let out a great moan. Spock swirled his tongue around the shaft experimentally. He couldn’t take the entire length of the erection and still have adequate control with his tongue, but he hoped it would be enough to keep the captain occupied while he went to work preparing himself.
Spock bobbed his head along the length of the phallus. With his free hand he undid the front of his regulation black pants, tugging them as best he could down around his knees. Keeping his captain distracted, he rolled his tongue around the shaft, pulling his head back, his lips tight around the shaft. He sucked slightly as he did so. Jim moaned again, his fingers weaving themselves back into Spock’s now thoroughly disheveled hair. Spock took this as a good sign.
Continuing to work Jim’s cock with his mouth, Spock unscrewed the lid from the jar. He dipped two fingers into the viscous gel and reached behind his own back. He shuffled a bit, opening his legs as wide as he could while still in his pants and leaning forward slightly to expose himself more to his own probing fingers. He slid one lubed finger into his ass unceremoniously.
The cold lube was a bit of a shock. The sensation otherwise was thoroughly strange. Unperturbed, he pushed in further; he moaned quietly onto Jim’s dick. Yes, it was definitely a strange sensation. A second finger quickly joined the first. It was a bit uncomfortable, but not bad.
He let the two fingers sit still for a moment while he focused once more on the phallus in his mouth. If his observations were correct, the head of the penis was the most sensitive, and the most prone to evoke oral response. The Science Officer tested his theory, pulling back enough to wrap his tongue around the soft head. Lapping at it with the flat of his tongue, he sucked strongly.
Jim’s initial grunt elongated itself into a groan at the ministrations of the intuitive Vulcan. Spock found himself smiling, lips curving upward as he moved his head forward to take in more of the long shaft. He opened his mouth a bit, sticking his tongue out to allow the phallus easier access to enter his throat. It hit the back of his throat bluntly. Hmm. Strangely, it seemed to be harder to cause entry to his throat on his own, without the force of the captain’s thrusts. He bobbed his head a few more times, each time twisting his head to add to the friction his captain experienced.
Spock began to wiggle his fingers in time with the movements of his head. His tongue fluttered around the shaft as he again tried to push Jim’s penis into the depths of his throat. Impatient, Jim tightened his grip on Spock’s head and pushed past the pressure, causing Spock’s eyes to widen in surprise and pain. No matter, as long as he was able to use his hands. He scissored his fingers briefly, trying to stretch the tight ring of muscle as wide as possible. He pulled his hand away, replenished the lubricant on them, and returned them to his hole.
Jim burned. He had felt a small satisfaction briefly when Spock had pushed him into the wall and moved on his cock of his own accord. He had felt satisfied that Spock was enjoying this too, participating and encouraging. ‘Partner,’ the word rolled through his thoughtless mind. ‘Mate.’ But as he thrust deep into the man’s throat, hot discontent boiled up from his belly. It wasn’t enough! He was beginning to shake again. Enraged, he threw the Vulcan off of him.
Spock was knocked off balance with Jim’s unexpected push. His knees trapped in his pants, he fell backwards, landing awkwardly on his back. His slick fingers had pulled out automatically as he attempted to catch himself from the fall. He had barely time to kick his wrapped legs out from under himself before the captain was on top of him. Jim’s pants were being pulled off even as the human locked his mouth onto Spock’s collarbone, biting hard enough to cause Spock to cry out.
Spock felt Jim’s mind; the power of Pon Farr was increasing quickly. The Vulcan would need to help Jim find relief as soon as possible. Jim’s body trembled against the body of the man beneath him. Spock could not reach the jar, now laying a foot beyond his leg. He was not sure how much lubricant would be necessary to mitigate injury. The most logical course of action would be to apply as much as possible, a task made frustrating by the distance he had been shoved.
Jim’s craving was beyond mad now. He could not recognize the situation if had known he ought to try. All he knew was desperation so strong that nothing else existed. Animal instinct drove him blindly. He was desperate to bond. He needed another soul entwined with his, yet all he had to use was his body. He bit at the man beneath him, leaving angry marks behind as he trailed his mouth across the green-and-copper tinted chest.
The captain raised himself to his knees. The man beneath him began to sit up; Jim grabbed him by the side and with blunt strength flipped the larger man to land heavily onto his stomach.
Spock was unfazed. His thoughts were on the jar of lubricant only a few feet from him. He turned to reach for it. The captain grabbed at the other man’s hips, roughly lifting him into the air. Spock knew he had only a small window of opportunity to supply more lube. He began to crawl forward, his pants still around his knees. Behind him, the captain shouted, irate at the thought that Spock was trying to escape. Jim’s heavy fist landed solidly in Spock’s side sending pain jolting through the Vulcan. He ignored the pain, save for a brief grunt in shock and pain, and reached out for the jar.
Jim shot out, landing on Spock’s shoulder. Spock grunted in pain. Spock’s arm was now flat with the ground. The Vulcan grabbed the jar and dipped his fingers into it, letting the thick gel coat his fingers thoroughly. He reached quickly around, slipping his hand between his legs and coating his hole with the gel.
Above him, an angry Jim lashed out again, hurt at his mate’s apparent attempt to get away. The captain grabbed Spock’s elbow and gripped it tight. Livid, he pushed the arm into the ground, furious at the seeming betrayal. His heart ached; he was angry. He twisted the arm roughly, then released it and hit it into the ground.
Spock cried out as a sharp pain erupted in his arm. He was quite sure his captain had just fractured his bone. The Vulcan knew this was a bad sign: Pon Farr was overwhelming his friend. He could feel it growing ever stronger in the human, though still not at what Spock would consider full strength. A Vulcan would never hurt a mate, even in the heat of Pon Farr. Jim was beyond the point where any Vulcan would ever go. He could feel the desperation in his friend; Jim felt lost and confused and only had anger and lust to react with.
Spock ignored the pain from his arm, as well as the many bites and bruises, and focused on what was now the most important thing. He pushed his body back against Jim’s, doing his best to rub his ass against Jim’s still-throbbing cock. He had to let know Jim that he was not alone, and that he was wanted and loved. His good arm reached around and grabbed Jim’s forearm. He stroked it affectionately, sending thoughts of peace to his friend in the hopes that some would break through the Pon Farr’s hold over Jim’s mind.
The actions seemed to work. Jim kneeled up again moaning, though from what emotion Spock wasn’t sure. The head of Jim’s cock pushed against the slippery bud of tight muscle exposed before him. His hands gripping at Spock’s hips, he thrust into Spock without ceremony.
The Vulcan cried out despite himself. That was not the same as a finger. The hot, throbbing phallus was fully entrenched in his ass, not moving, thank good fortune. Jim’s fingers dug into the Vulcan’s hips tightly. Spock counseled himself to relax thoroughly. He relaxed the inner muscles that gripped at Jim’s cock and was rewarded with a sensation slightly more comfortable, if such a word could be used to describe this feeling.
Before he had a real chance to get used to the new feeling in him, Spock’s senses were assaulted again. Jim had started moving. It was surprisingly slow, given Jim’s previous tempos in Spock’s mouth. The cock slid slowly out until it felt the pressure of Spock’s tight rim pressing the underside of the head. There it paused a moment, then, only slightly faster, it thrust forward again.
Spock came to, realizing he had completely lost himself in the sensation. Shaking himself mentally, he collected himself back into something more like his usual Vulcan mask. But with the powerful awareness of Jim’s rock-hard dick in him, that mask was proving rather difficult to maintain. Spock could feel Jim’s emotions more strongly now, leaving Spock with a powerful echo.
The captain’s dick hit a nerve cluster as it pushed forward into Spock’s ass. Spock’s own cock jolted up, bouncing to attention. The Vulcan hissed in pleasure.
Suddenly Jim turned up the tempo. Gripping his First Officer’s hips even tighter, he pounded his dick full force into Spock’s tight ass. Spock felt Jim shiver wildly. Something had broken in Jim and the waves of passion crashed around both of them. He slammed himself over and over into the waiting asshole, reveling in the sensation of ownership and control it gave him. Jim felt his balls tighten and he instinctively relaxed into it, expecting an imminent release.
When, after a short time, the expected release did not come, Jim’s emotions were lit. He felt fear, confusion. He was upset and the feeling of being lost returned to him. His whole body quaked.
The Vulcan was snapped out of his reverie by the onslaught of Jim’s emotions. Something was wrong. Jim was mating; why was the Pon Farr not being affected?
‘No,’ he thought, cold sheet of panic falling over him. ‘He is having sex – he is not, however, mating. Not in the Vulcan sense.’
Spock looked over his shoulder at the pained face of his best friend. Dropping his weight onto his hurt shoulder, he twisted his body and reached his good arm towards his captain. He grabbed Jim’s arm below the shoulder. The captain’s eyes opened, locking with those of the man beneath him.
“Jim..,” Spock’s voice broke, thick with his own emotion.
Jim pitched forward, his arms reaching to encircle Spock’s torso. His head fell onto Spock’s shoulder, hot breath ragged on Spock’s neck.
The Vulcan brought his hand up automatically, feeling it’s way to the meld points. He found them and opened himself to connect minds with the wild and impassioned man, his captain, his best friend.
Heat. Emotions tumbled together. Physical sensation lost its separation, the feeling of being filled and of filling mingled in one shared mind. Pain and anguish, hurt and confusion melted instantly, replaced by a unified soul’s breath of relief. Spock’s consciousness dances with Jim’s. Memories, emotions, desires, beliefs – they pushed on each other, shifted delicately against each other as two beings played with the line between One and Other.
In an instant, both Jim and Spock felt Jim’s cock explode, a wave of bubbling energy building quickly in the pit of his stomach and rolling outward. His balls went taut and with another push into his mate, he came. Both men cried out as one. Spock’s cock mirrored Jim’s, shooting with a force he had never known.
Spock felt Jim’s mind roll away. He was moving quickly towards unconsciousness. Jim still wrapped around the Vulcan’s body, Spock lowered himself to the floor and rolled over to allow Jim’s now limp body to fall gently onto the floor. His softening dick slid out of his ass and Spock was left with an aching emptiness.
For several minutes, Spock lay there unmoving, feeling Jim’s body pressed against his, feeling the soft echoes of his mind move back into a normal human rhythm. Eventually, with great effort, he removed himself from Jim’s arms and lifted himself heavily from the floor. The physical pains he had suffered jumped back to life. His ass ached to the point of sending echoes of jolting pain down both legs and into the lower back. His left arm hung limp from a sore shoulder, and a chorus of bites and bruises sang from over his chest, sides, back, neck, legs. He walked deftly to his desk and pressed a finger to the button of the comm link.
“Spock to sickbay.”
The comm chimed and a warm voice answered. “Sickbay. McCoy here.”
Spock leaned his weight onto his elbow on the desk. “Doctor, there has been an incident. Please come to my quarters immediately.”
“On my way.”
Spock lowered himself carefully back to the floor. He settled onto his right, unhurt side, very careful to avoid aggravating his injuries as he moved. On the ground now, and naked, he stared at Jim’s prostrate body and waited for Doctor McCoy to arrive.