Be Not Afraid
Title: Be Not Afraid
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Star Trek (nuTrek)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, implied Spock/Uhura
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3,299
Spoilers: Movie only.
Warnings: Sex pollen, fuck-or-die, angst, logical internal monologues
Disclaimer: Star Trek sure doesn’t belong to me.
A/N: Written for brighteyed_jill’s birthday.
Summary: Jim is struck down by sex pollen, and Spock must save him, uncertain if their friendship will survive the storm.
The pollen from what had been nicknamed the “singing star-flowers” was thick in the air, almost to the point creating a hazardous breathing situation. Spock did not need to examine the precise levels on his tricorder; visual examination alone showed the heavy golden pollen wafting through the warm breeze. Such a concentration was likely to cause an allergic reaction in the captain and cause this mission to be cut short.
Irellian IV had seemed to be precisely the correct sort of planet for a low-stress, low-danger mission. It had been thoroughly tested with probes and scans for things harmful to Federation species, and now ready to have physical samples taken as well as have accurate observations recorded. The temperatures on the surface were warm enough for lightweight uniforms, and the rich plant life was very aesthetically pleasing. It would be ideal for a slightly unorthodox mission, allowing Jim to have a few hours in a relaxing environment. Spock had counted himself anticipating nothing more from the mission than allowing the Captain to indulge in relaxation he’d been denying himself for the good of his crew.
In the year of their mission of exploration, Jim had constantly shortened his sleep periods, missed meals, and given his shore leave time to other crewmembers in order to increase his own effectiveness as captain, in his own unorthodox way. Dr. McCoy had finally used his rank as CMO to order Jim off the ship, ignoring the Starfleet regulations that would have kept the commander on board if the captain went to a planet’s surface.
“You’re his friend, and he damn sure won’t be able to relax if we have cadets down there. Jim doesn’t have to worry about you, at least,” McCoy had said bluntly. Spock had agreed with him on all aspects, though did not allow his approval to show. More than once Jim had used his leave time to allow Spock to return to New Vulcan to complete duties to his people. That unusual courtesy deserved the same in return, and Spock had not argued against the unregulation mission.
Spock tapped his communicator, wanting to warn Jim about the heavy pollen in his grid location. “Captain, please respond.”
Several seconds of silence went by, and Spock repeated the request. There was no response. A quick scan showed the nearest, and indeed, only human life form on this planet, and Spock made his way there quickly. Irellian IV did not have any indigenous carnivores capable of injuring a humanoid, nor were there any native sentients. None of the flora was supposed to be capable of poisoning any Federation species, but the possibility of an unanticipated reaction to pollen or other airborne particles could not be completely discounted. A sufficiently vigorous allergic reaction could cause respiratory failure, and Jim was more prone to allergic reactions than any human Spock had ever met.
The extravagant vegetation impeded Spock’s progress, and the swirls of pollen grew thicker and thicker in the air as he drew closer to Jim’s location. It covered Spock in a faint haze of golden dust, coating his throat and melting into a sickly sweet taste on his tongue. Forcing his way through the final set of woody plants, Spock finally caught sight of Jim, and hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.
Jim was in the precise center of a large spread of star-flowers, the pollen around him thick enough to partially obscure vision. Though he was not apparently in immediate medical danger, the reason for his lack of response to communications was obvious. He was on all fours, having discarded his uniform, his body tense and sweating with stress. The pollen on his skin had marks in it from where droplets of perspiration had fallen, showing he’d been in this state for some time. Most obviously, Jim was in a state of intense sexual arousal, his penis fully engorged and testicles drawn up tight to his body.
Jim was moaning very softly, his hands flexing on the flowers underneath his palms, releasing more pollen with every moment. His hips swayed slightly, rutting into the air in a primitive display of desire. While Jim was very open with his sexuality, this was completely out of character for him. As was the fact that he wasn’t trying to relieve himself of his arousal. “Inhibited” was not a descriptor Spock would ever apply to Jim Kirk.
“Jim?” he called.
“Don’t!” Jim said harshly, body freezing in place, eyes tightly shut. “Don’t get… close, don’t want it to… get you too.”
“Captain, can you explain what happened and when it started?” Spock asked urgently. He quickly revised the settings on his tricorder to extend its range, sacrificing other functions to be able to focus on Jim’s vital statistics.
“I was… taking samples… I walked through the… flowers… Maybe thirty minutes… ago. Then… just too much. Too much… of everything,” Jim gasped out, hips swiveling. He groaned deep in his chest, the sound similar to one of intense pain.
Data poured across the screen of the tricorder, analyzing minute changes in all of Jim’s bodily functions. It wasn’t quite conclusive, a science tricorder did not have the same analytical capabilities of a medical one in regards to body chemistry, but it did point to one unwelcome conclusion.
The pollen had caused an unanticipated reaction. Jim’s body was in a state of sexual overdrive, all his body’s resources marshalling themselves for a mating rut. If unsatisfied, the unceasing increase in blood pressure could cause damage to many of his organs, possibly even kill him.
While the precise chemicals and hormones were different, the results were unquestionably similar to Pon Farr. Spock knew he was showing an expression of concern, and did not want to hide it. The Vulcan mating cycle and its attendant urges were not things Vulcans wished to discuss with outsiders unless it was necessary. Pon Farr could be incredibly difficult for most Vulcans to deal with, as the thought of surrendering oneself to a primal and emotional state sent most into a state of denial. It was one of the duties Spock had been tending to on New Vulcan; learning all he could about this inevitable cycle, for the future of his species. He had hoped he would not have to deal with any aspect of it for several years.
“Jim, your reaction to the pollen-,” Spock started.
“Rut,” Jim said shortly, and moaned again. “Obvious. Stupid… I’m never gonna… hear the end… of this.”
“We must teleport us to quarantine so Dr. McCoy can devise an antidote,” Spock said calmly.
“Us?!” Jim nearly shouted, and opened his eyes to look briefly at Spock, covered in pollen, before turning his face away. “I… didn’t know. You too?”
“I am not feeling any adverse effects at present,” Spock said. “But we will not endanger the ship.”
“Don’t know… if I can last… until Bones-,” Jim said, his voice becoming much lower, huskier as he forced out the words between waves of unrelenting lust. He cut himself off as he moaned again, louder. His face was redder now, and his penis very swollen with blood, becoming a very dark red.
Spock felt uneasy, watching his friend trying to fight urges he’d never wanted to deny. A Vulcan in the grip of Pon Farr, particularly one who’d come into it unexpectedly, would have most likely sought the nearest partner, willing or not, to slake the urges long before now. Only one prepared and ready for the cycle could fight it. Jim was doing admirably for a Vulcan, let alone a human who was known for his promiscuous nature.
“I am confident in Dr. McCoy’s competence,” Spock said quickly. He tapped his communicator for the surface-to-ship signal. “Spock to Enterprise.”
Silence.
Looking upward, Spock berated himself for forgetting about the gas giant in tandem orbit with Irellian IV. Its current position would block transmissions for a few hours, hours in which the Enterprise would be examining its surface plasma storms with probes. The botanical mission had been deemed so low-risk that the lack of communication had not been considered a priority.
Spock turned back to Jim, seeing his vitals begin to climb into very dangerous levels. They did not have the time to wait until the Enterprise returned, nor did Spock have sufficient medical supplies or knowledge to safely tranquilize the captain.
“We’re… cut off,” Jim said positively, realizing precisely what Spock’s silence meant.
Spock raised an eyebrow. Being able to think while in the grips of Pon Farr was almost unheard of.
“Guess… I’m screwed,” Jim said, a short laugh sliding into a pained moan. “Hell of… a way to go.”
“I will not allow you to be harmed by this,” Spock said very flatly. His mind was racing for any solution to this problem, coming uncomfortably back to his recent lessons on New Vulcan. “Jim, we must relieve the pressure before your organs become damaged. Is it possible for you to self-stimulate? It would buy us time.”
“If I start… I’m not gonna be able… to stop,” Jim gasped out. “Best record at… the academy was… two hours. And after Bones said… Bones said… I nearly lost my dick… on that bet.” Jim shuddered, his entire body flexing and tensing, and let out a hollow, pained sound, like a repressed scream.
Spock calculated rapidly; the Enterprise would return in three-point-five hours. Pon Farr could last for hours or days, depending on the individual, but Vulcans were physically sturdier than humans, stronger and with more endurance. No, simply attempting to wait for help with stalling tactics could endanger Jim’s life.
“Then we must proceed as if it were Pon Farr. You must achieve release with a partner, and soon, or your health will be compromised,” Spock said finally. He felt great unease about this, but knew it was the only viable option. Pon Farr was most easily slaked with the combination of hormones from one’s mate, and though this pollen-induced reaction was not the same, it showed so many similarities that the attempt could not bring harm.
“No!” Jim shouted, shaking his head in denial. “No, Spock. Don’t want… do that with you…”
“I am the only one available. I apologize; I know I am not your preferred type of partner, but this is necessary.”
“Uhura,” Jim gasped in explanation.
Spock kept his expression neutral, but bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. Nyota was a caring and loving partner, far more understanding than any other person he’d ever met. He would not have compromised the love they shared for anything less than a life-and-death situation.
“She will understand,” Spock said quietly. “And I thank you for your concern.” Nyota understood Vulcan culture almost as well as a native; Spock had not had to broach the culturally awkward subject of sexual habits with her. As a half-human, Spock was able to respond to Nyota more often than his father had to his mother, but Nyota understood that at some future date, he would briefly devolve into a purely sexual creature incapable of listening to her. She accepted that. So few non-Vulcans were able to. The last one who had was his mother.
Taking courage from her memory, Spock set down his instruments and away bag and began to tab off his uniform. Had Amanda been uneasy or frightened, preparing herself on the night he’d been conceived? Knowing that the man she loved and respected for his mind and spirit had been briefly possessed by base urges he could not control? She must have been very brave indeed. The more controlled a Vulcan tended to be outside of Pon Farr, the less in control he was inside of it. Sarek was extremely controlled.
“Spock, what the hell are you doing?!” Jim yelped as Spock’s uniform fell to the ground. “Not worth it! Put your clothes-.” Jim paused as his body rippled with a new wave of desire. His eyes began to fill with tears. “Back on. Order. Leave!”
“Captain, I will not leave you to die. I believe this is what you’d call ‘payback’ for marooning you on Delta Vega,” Spock said, removing the medical supplies from the away bag. He found a non-reactive cream and quickly used it to prepare himself, wanting to spare both of them as much damage as possible. The feeling was intensely strange, but not painful.
“No!” Jim said again, his voice weaker. “Delta… Vega was…”
“You are my friend, Jim. I wish to help you,” Spock said very earnestly, letting himself put as much emotion as he could into his voice.
Jim shuddered for another minute, sides heaving as he took in large breaths of air. Then he seemed to relax, bringing his head up to look at Spock, eyes very bright. Jim had surrendered to the raging storm inside himself.
“Please,” he said quietly, standing. It would, Spock knew, be the last intelligible word Jim would speak for some time.
Spock braced himself as Jim lunged for him, tackling him to the ground with a speed and ferocity he’d never seen a human display before. Growling deep in his throat, Jim turned him over and yanked Spock’s hips up, forcing him into an intensely submissive position before thrusting into him. Spock gripped the ground below him to keep from being shoved forward, and willed his body to relax as Jim set a savage pace. His hands gripped Spock’s hips strongly enough to leave bruises, forcing him back onto Jim’s cock, driving himself deeper.
Every time Spock so much as twitched under his own initiative, Jim growled and forced him back down. Once he even bit Spock on the shoulder, teeth gripping and holding him in a primitive display of dominance. The feeling that provoked was strange and primal, invoking a willingness to submit, to spread himself even further for his partner’s pleasure. Spock felt a faint moan in his throat and gripped the ground even harder, fingers digging deep into the soil.
The pollen might have had little effect on him, but Jim’s thorough claiming was awakening buried impulses. This was what Pon Farr would be like, this wanton, dominant display. And for all its brutality and savagery, Spock was not disgusted or afraid. Having Jim moving inside him, releasing himself with a roar of triumph, and then resting briefly only to begin again, was not bad. There was a feeling of protection, that if anything had disturbed or threatened them, Jim would have fought it off barehanded before returning to his mate. In his right mind, Jim was like that as well. He would use any method to protect his crew, and to return to them. He was not losing fundamental aspects of himself by surrendering himself to lust.
With every burning release into his body, Jim became fractionally less desperate, and more caring. He moved slower now, hands not gripping quite so tightly, occasionally releasing Spock’s hips completely to run his hands over Spock’s sides and back, as if trying to memorize the lines of his muscles and bones. Jim slid one hand over Spock’s stomach, fingers flexing before traveling lower. Finding Spock’s member soft, Jim growled in his ear, a note of desperation in his voice.
“I am not in pain,” Spock said, trying to reassure Jim. Not in pain, but still not able to greatly enjoy what was happening to him. Jim whined in what sounded like frustration, and pulled out. He flipped Spock over with a careless ease, urged his legs up, and entered him again, slowing his pace. Something in Jim’s eyes was struggling to make itself known through the raging biological urges, and Spock shook the soil from one hand, raising it tentatively.
Jim ducked his head, hips still churning against Spock’s body, and brought his face down into range. Bracing himself against the storm, Spock touched Jim, melding with him. Heat and chaos surrounded him as he sank into Jim’s mind, resolving into a few semi-coherent thoughts.
I don’t want you to hate me. That was uppermost.
I cannot hate you for having an accident on an unexplored planet, Spock reassured him silently.
Relief came from all sides, and then more waves of concern.
I don’t want this to be all bad. That was deeper, much deeper, but very strong.
It should have been a shocking thought from anyone but Jim. Despite the captain’s promiscuous tendencies, his reputation was not that of being unkind or inconsiderate. His partners always spoke well of him, and not just for his physical attractiveness, or for the prestige of his position, but for his physical care of their needs.
I want to make this good for you. That was flung up on the heels of the second thought, burning in its intensity. Show me how.
Spock extracted himself from the meld, his own body beginning to respond from the after-effects of touching Jim’s lust-filled mind. The desire for release was miniscule next to Jim’s, but it was there, present. And Spock did not have to repress the feeling. Indeed, it was vital to his friendship that he did not.
Spock inserted his hand under Jim’s and held his eyes for a several seconds. Then Jim began to stroke Spock’s fingers in the same slow pace as the thrusts inside him. Pleasure began to spiral out from his hand, rousing his senses, letting him respond as Jim so desperately wanted him to. Jim’s growls took on a satisfied tone, almost sounding like words, as Spock began to move in concert with him, helping him find the pace they both wanted.
“Jim,” Spock whispered. “This is all right. It feels… very pleasurable.” Jim actually smiled, his half-exasperated smirk he used whenever he told Spock to “lighten up.”
“Yeah?” Jim got out, muscles outlined in a sheen of sweat, rendered gold by the drift of pollen.
“Do not stop,” Spock urged gently.
“God.” Jim’s thrusts grew harder, his hand stroking Spock’s more urgently. Fitful sparks of psychic contact flared between them every time their fingertips touched, and Spock allowed himself to be swept along with the feelings. The rising crescendo of desire pushed him into a wave a powerful arousal, breaking into release when Jim brought Spock’s hand to his mouth and sucked at his dirt-stained fingers.
Silently tensing as the pleasure washed over him, Jim’s own release was accompanied by a sobbing cry. The heat and slickness splashed into Spock’s body again, and this time Jim pulled away instead of staying to collapse on top of him. Blinking at the change in routine, Spock lifted his eyes to the sky, and realized the gas giant had descended on the horizon.
“Time,” Jim managed from a throat gone raw with his excess of passion. Quickly grabbing his discarded tricorder, Spock saw the Enterprise was due back any second. The communicator clicked once, and activated.
“Sulu to Spock. Commander, we have a message from you at twelve hundred hours?”
Looking back at Jim, who was once again gripping the ground and struggling for the control to not tackle Spock into the sod, Spock felt a curious mingling of relief and regret.
“Mr. Sulu, beam myself and the captain to quarantine and have Dr. McCoy report there immediately,” he said.
“Aye, Commander. Thirty seconds to energize.”
Spock looked at Jim for the entire thirty seconds, knowing this would be the last moment of privacy they would have together for several days.
“My friend, I wish to thank you,” Spock said gravely, with clear sincerity. Jim looked up at him, eyes bloodshot with fatigue and every muscle trembling with the strain of holding back his desires. “You have shown me not to be afraid of what is to come.”
Jim held his eyes as the time counted down, and smiled brightly, understanding. “Anytime.”
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Star Trek (nuTrek)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, implied Spock/Uhura
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3,299
Spoilers: Movie only.
Warnings: Sex pollen, fuck-or-die, angst, logical internal monologues
Disclaimer: Star Trek sure doesn’t belong to me.
A/N: Written for brighteyed_jill’s birthday.
Summary: Jim is struck down by sex pollen, and Spock must save him, uncertain if their friendship will survive the storm.
The pollen from what had been nicknamed the “singing star-flowers” was thick in the air, almost to the point creating a hazardous breathing situation. Spock did not need to examine the precise levels on his tricorder; visual examination alone showed the heavy golden pollen wafting through the warm breeze. Such a concentration was likely to cause an allergic reaction in the captain and cause this mission to be cut short.
Irellian IV had seemed to be precisely the correct sort of planet for a low-stress, low-danger mission. It had been thoroughly tested with probes and scans for things harmful to Federation species, and now ready to have physical samples taken as well as have accurate observations recorded. The temperatures on the surface were warm enough for lightweight uniforms, and the rich plant life was very aesthetically pleasing. It would be ideal for a slightly unorthodox mission, allowing Jim to have a few hours in a relaxing environment. Spock had counted himself anticipating nothing more from the mission than allowing the Captain to indulge in relaxation he’d been denying himself for the good of his crew.
In the year of their mission of exploration, Jim had constantly shortened his sleep periods, missed meals, and given his shore leave time to other crewmembers in order to increase his own effectiveness as captain, in his own unorthodox way. Dr. McCoy had finally used his rank as CMO to order Jim off the ship, ignoring the Starfleet regulations that would have kept the commander on board if the captain went to a planet’s surface.
“You’re his friend, and he damn sure won’t be able to relax if we have cadets down there. Jim doesn’t have to worry about you, at least,” McCoy had said bluntly. Spock had agreed with him on all aspects, though did not allow his approval to show. More than once Jim had used his leave time to allow Spock to return to New Vulcan to complete duties to his people. That unusual courtesy deserved the same in return, and Spock had not argued against the unregulation mission.
Spock tapped his communicator, wanting to warn Jim about the heavy pollen in his grid location. “Captain, please respond.”
Several seconds of silence went by, and Spock repeated the request. There was no response. A quick scan showed the nearest, and indeed, only human life form on this planet, and Spock made his way there quickly. Irellian IV did not have any indigenous carnivores capable of injuring a humanoid, nor were there any native sentients. None of the flora was supposed to be capable of poisoning any Federation species, but the possibility of an unanticipated reaction to pollen or other airborne particles could not be completely discounted. A sufficiently vigorous allergic reaction could cause respiratory failure, and Jim was more prone to allergic reactions than any human Spock had ever met.
The extravagant vegetation impeded Spock’s progress, and the swirls of pollen grew thicker and thicker in the air as he drew closer to Jim’s location. It covered Spock in a faint haze of golden dust, coating his throat and melting into a sickly sweet taste on his tongue. Forcing his way through the final set of woody plants, Spock finally caught sight of Jim, and hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.
Jim was in the precise center of a large spread of star-flowers, the pollen around him thick enough to partially obscure vision. Though he was not apparently in immediate medical danger, the reason for his lack of response to communications was obvious. He was on all fours, having discarded his uniform, his body tense and sweating with stress. The pollen on his skin had marks in it from where droplets of perspiration had fallen, showing he’d been in this state for some time. Most obviously, Jim was in a state of intense sexual arousal, his penis fully engorged and testicles drawn up tight to his body.
Jim was moaning very softly, his hands flexing on the flowers underneath his palms, releasing more pollen with every moment. His hips swayed slightly, rutting into the air in a primitive display of desire. While Jim was very open with his sexuality, this was completely out of character for him. As was the fact that he wasn’t trying to relieve himself of his arousal. “Inhibited” was not a descriptor Spock would ever apply to Jim Kirk.
“Jim?” he called.
“Don’t!” Jim said harshly, body freezing in place, eyes tightly shut. “Don’t get… close, don’t want it to… get you too.”
“Captain, can you explain what happened and when it started?” Spock asked urgently. He quickly revised the settings on his tricorder to extend its range, sacrificing other functions to be able to focus on Jim’s vital statistics.
“I was… taking samples… I walked through the… flowers… Maybe thirty minutes… ago. Then… just too much. Too much… of everything,” Jim gasped out, hips swiveling. He groaned deep in his chest, the sound similar to one of intense pain.
Data poured across the screen of the tricorder, analyzing minute changes in all of Jim’s bodily functions. It wasn’t quite conclusive, a science tricorder did not have the same analytical capabilities of a medical one in regards to body chemistry, but it did point to one unwelcome conclusion.
The pollen had caused an unanticipated reaction. Jim’s body was in a state of sexual overdrive, all his body’s resources marshalling themselves for a mating rut. If unsatisfied, the unceasing increase in blood pressure could cause damage to many of his organs, possibly even kill him.
While the precise chemicals and hormones were different, the results were unquestionably similar to Pon Farr. Spock knew he was showing an expression of concern, and did not want to hide it. The Vulcan mating cycle and its attendant urges were not things Vulcans wished to discuss with outsiders unless it was necessary. Pon Farr could be incredibly difficult for most Vulcans to deal with, as the thought of surrendering oneself to a primal and emotional state sent most into a state of denial. It was one of the duties Spock had been tending to on New Vulcan; learning all he could about this inevitable cycle, for the future of his species. He had hoped he would not have to deal with any aspect of it for several years.
“Jim, your reaction to the pollen-,” Spock started.
“Rut,” Jim said shortly, and moaned again. “Obvious. Stupid… I’m never gonna… hear the end… of this.”
“We must teleport us to quarantine so Dr. McCoy can devise an antidote,” Spock said calmly.
“Us?!” Jim nearly shouted, and opened his eyes to look briefly at Spock, covered in pollen, before turning his face away. “I… didn’t know. You too?”
“I am not feeling any adverse effects at present,” Spock said. “But we will not endanger the ship.”
“Don’t know… if I can last… until Bones-,” Jim said, his voice becoming much lower, huskier as he forced out the words between waves of unrelenting lust. He cut himself off as he moaned again, louder. His face was redder now, and his penis very swollen with blood, becoming a very dark red.
Spock felt uneasy, watching his friend trying to fight urges he’d never wanted to deny. A Vulcan in the grip of Pon Farr, particularly one who’d come into it unexpectedly, would have most likely sought the nearest partner, willing or not, to slake the urges long before now. Only one prepared and ready for the cycle could fight it. Jim was doing admirably for a Vulcan, let alone a human who was known for his promiscuous nature.
“I am confident in Dr. McCoy’s competence,” Spock said quickly. He tapped his communicator for the surface-to-ship signal. “Spock to Enterprise.”
Silence.
Looking upward, Spock berated himself for forgetting about the gas giant in tandem orbit with Irellian IV. Its current position would block transmissions for a few hours, hours in which the Enterprise would be examining its surface plasma storms with probes. The botanical mission had been deemed so low-risk that the lack of communication had not been considered a priority.
Spock turned back to Jim, seeing his vitals begin to climb into very dangerous levels. They did not have the time to wait until the Enterprise returned, nor did Spock have sufficient medical supplies or knowledge to safely tranquilize the captain.
“We’re… cut off,” Jim said positively, realizing precisely what Spock’s silence meant.
Spock raised an eyebrow. Being able to think while in the grips of Pon Farr was almost unheard of.
“Guess… I’m screwed,” Jim said, a short laugh sliding into a pained moan. “Hell of… a way to go.”
“I will not allow you to be harmed by this,” Spock said very flatly. His mind was racing for any solution to this problem, coming uncomfortably back to his recent lessons on New Vulcan. “Jim, we must relieve the pressure before your organs become damaged. Is it possible for you to self-stimulate? It would buy us time.”
“If I start… I’m not gonna be able… to stop,” Jim gasped out. “Best record at… the academy was… two hours. And after Bones said… Bones said… I nearly lost my dick… on that bet.” Jim shuddered, his entire body flexing and tensing, and let out a hollow, pained sound, like a repressed scream.
Spock calculated rapidly; the Enterprise would return in three-point-five hours. Pon Farr could last for hours or days, depending on the individual, but Vulcans were physically sturdier than humans, stronger and with more endurance. No, simply attempting to wait for help with stalling tactics could endanger Jim’s life.
“Then we must proceed as if it were Pon Farr. You must achieve release with a partner, and soon, or your health will be compromised,” Spock said finally. He felt great unease about this, but knew it was the only viable option. Pon Farr was most easily slaked with the combination of hormones from one’s mate, and though this pollen-induced reaction was not the same, it showed so many similarities that the attempt could not bring harm.
“No!” Jim shouted, shaking his head in denial. “No, Spock. Don’t want… do that with you…”
“I am the only one available. I apologize; I know I am not your preferred type of partner, but this is necessary.”
“Uhura,” Jim gasped in explanation.
Spock kept his expression neutral, but bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. Nyota was a caring and loving partner, far more understanding than any other person he’d ever met. He would not have compromised the love they shared for anything less than a life-and-death situation.
“She will understand,” Spock said quietly. “And I thank you for your concern.” Nyota understood Vulcan culture almost as well as a native; Spock had not had to broach the culturally awkward subject of sexual habits with her. As a half-human, Spock was able to respond to Nyota more often than his father had to his mother, but Nyota understood that at some future date, he would briefly devolve into a purely sexual creature incapable of listening to her. She accepted that. So few non-Vulcans were able to. The last one who had was his mother.
Taking courage from her memory, Spock set down his instruments and away bag and began to tab off his uniform. Had Amanda been uneasy or frightened, preparing herself on the night he’d been conceived? Knowing that the man she loved and respected for his mind and spirit had been briefly possessed by base urges he could not control? She must have been very brave indeed. The more controlled a Vulcan tended to be outside of Pon Farr, the less in control he was inside of it. Sarek was extremely controlled.
“Spock, what the hell are you doing?!” Jim yelped as Spock’s uniform fell to the ground. “Not worth it! Put your clothes-.” Jim paused as his body rippled with a new wave of desire. His eyes began to fill with tears. “Back on. Order. Leave!”
“Captain, I will not leave you to die. I believe this is what you’d call ‘payback’ for marooning you on Delta Vega,” Spock said, removing the medical supplies from the away bag. He found a non-reactive cream and quickly used it to prepare himself, wanting to spare both of them as much damage as possible. The feeling was intensely strange, but not painful.
“No!” Jim said again, his voice weaker. “Delta… Vega was…”
“You are my friend, Jim. I wish to help you,” Spock said very earnestly, letting himself put as much emotion as he could into his voice.
Jim shuddered for another minute, sides heaving as he took in large breaths of air. Then he seemed to relax, bringing his head up to look at Spock, eyes very bright. Jim had surrendered to the raging storm inside himself.
“Please,” he said quietly, standing. It would, Spock knew, be the last intelligible word Jim would speak for some time.
Spock braced himself as Jim lunged for him, tackling him to the ground with a speed and ferocity he’d never seen a human display before. Growling deep in his throat, Jim turned him over and yanked Spock’s hips up, forcing him into an intensely submissive position before thrusting into him. Spock gripped the ground below him to keep from being shoved forward, and willed his body to relax as Jim set a savage pace. His hands gripped Spock’s hips strongly enough to leave bruises, forcing him back onto Jim’s cock, driving himself deeper.
Every time Spock so much as twitched under his own initiative, Jim growled and forced him back down. Once he even bit Spock on the shoulder, teeth gripping and holding him in a primitive display of dominance. The feeling that provoked was strange and primal, invoking a willingness to submit, to spread himself even further for his partner’s pleasure. Spock felt a faint moan in his throat and gripped the ground even harder, fingers digging deep into the soil.
The pollen might have had little effect on him, but Jim’s thorough claiming was awakening buried impulses. This was what Pon Farr would be like, this wanton, dominant display. And for all its brutality and savagery, Spock was not disgusted or afraid. Having Jim moving inside him, releasing himself with a roar of triumph, and then resting briefly only to begin again, was not bad. There was a feeling of protection, that if anything had disturbed or threatened them, Jim would have fought it off barehanded before returning to his mate. In his right mind, Jim was like that as well. He would use any method to protect his crew, and to return to them. He was not losing fundamental aspects of himself by surrendering himself to lust.
With every burning release into his body, Jim became fractionally less desperate, and more caring. He moved slower now, hands not gripping quite so tightly, occasionally releasing Spock’s hips completely to run his hands over Spock’s sides and back, as if trying to memorize the lines of his muscles and bones. Jim slid one hand over Spock’s stomach, fingers flexing before traveling lower. Finding Spock’s member soft, Jim growled in his ear, a note of desperation in his voice.
“I am not in pain,” Spock said, trying to reassure Jim. Not in pain, but still not able to greatly enjoy what was happening to him. Jim whined in what sounded like frustration, and pulled out. He flipped Spock over with a careless ease, urged his legs up, and entered him again, slowing his pace. Something in Jim’s eyes was struggling to make itself known through the raging biological urges, and Spock shook the soil from one hand, raising it tentatively.
Jim ducked his head, hips still churning against Spock’s body, and brought his face down into range. Bracing himself against the storm, Spock touched Jim, melding with him. Heat and chaos surrounded him as he sank into Jim’s mind, resolving into a few semi-coherent thoughts.
I don’t want you to hate me. That was uppermost.
I cannot hate you for having an accident on an unexplored planet, Spock reassured him silently.
Relief came from all sides, and then more waves of concern.
I don’t want this to be all bad. That was deeper, much deeper, but very strong.
It should have been a shocking thought from anyone but Jim. Despite the captain’s promiscuous tendencies, his reputation was not that of being unkind or inconsiderate. His partners always spoke well of him, and not just for his physical attractiveness, or for the prestige of his position, but for his physical care of their needs.
I want to make this good for you. That was flung up on the heels of the second thought, burning in its intensity. Show me how.
Spock extracted himself from the meld, his own body beginning to respond from the after-effects of touching Jim’s lust-filled mind. The desire for release was miniscule next to Jim’s, but it was there, present. And Spock did not have to repress the feeling. Indeed, it was vital to his friendship that he did not.
Spock inserted his hand under Jim’s and held his eyes for a several seconds. Then Jim began to stroke Spock’s fingers in the same slow pace as the thrusts inside him. Pleasure began to spiral out from his hand, rousing his senses, letting him respond as Jim so desperately wanted him to. Jim’s growls took on a satisfied tone, almost sounding like words, as Spock began to move in concert with him, helping him find the pace they both wanted.
“Jim,” Spock whispered. “This is all right. It feels… very pleasurable.” Jim actually smiled, his half-exasperated smirk he used whenever he told Spock to “lighten up.”
“Yeah?” Jim got out, muscles outlined in a sheen of sweat, rendered gold by the drift of pollen.
“Do not stop,” Spock urged gently.
“God.” Jim’s thrusts grew harder, his hand stroking Spock’s more urgently. Fitful sparks of psychic contact flared between them every time their fingertips touched, and Spock allowed himself to be swept along with the feelings. The rising crescendo of desire pushed him into a wave a powerful arousal, breaking into release when Jim brought Spock’s hand to his mouth and sucked at his dirt-stained fingers.
Silently tensing as the pleasure washed over him, Jim’s own release was accompanied by a sobbing cry. The heat and slickness splashed into Spock’s body again, and this time Jim pulled away instead of staying to collapse on top of him. Blinking at the change in routine, Spock lifted his eyes to the sky, and realized the gas giant had descended on the horizon.
“Time,” Jim managed from a throat gone raw with his excess of passion. Quickly grabbing his discarded tricorder, Spock saw the Enterprise was due back any second. The communicator clicked once, and activated.
“Sulu to Spock. Commander, we have a message from you at twelve hundred hours?”
Looking back at Jim, who was once again gripping the ground and struggling for the control to not tackle Spock into the sod, Spock felt a curious mingling of relief and regret.
“Mr. Sulu, beam myself and the captain to quarantine and have Dr. McCoy report there immediately,” he said.
“Aye, Commander. Thirty seconds to energize.”
Spock looked at Jim for the entire thirty seconds, knowing this would be the last moment of privacy they would have together for several days.
“My friend, I wish to thank you,” Spock said gravely, with clear sincerity. Jim looked up at him, eyes bloodshot with fatigue and every muscle trembling with the strain of holding back his desires. “You have shown me not to be afraid of what is to come.”
Jim held his eyes as the time counted down, and smiled brightly, understanding. “Anytime.”