culf
in
lifein1973
Fic: When The Blood Burns, Sam/Gene, Brown Cortina, by Culf
Title: When The Blood Burns
Rating: Brown Cortina for man love
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Word Cout: 2469
Disclaimer: I don't own Life on Mars or Pon Farr.
Notes: For dakfinv, because she wanted Sam to experience Pon Farr.
I can't believe I forgot to thank my lovely beta gritsinmiseryfor the beta! Thank you, Grits!
Summary: Sam's going through Pon Farr, though without knowing what it is. For those of you who don't know, Pon Farr is the mating ritual for Vulcans from Star Trek.
”What’s this I hear about you throwing treacle tart across the canteen for apparent reason? Chris says it made Gwen cry,” Gene said, probing the sullen Sam.
“She kept prodding me, asking about my mood and insisting treacle tart would make it all better,” Sam sneered.
“Look, you little shit, I don’t give a bloody rat’s arse if you’re in a foul mood because it’s your time of the month, you don’t take it out on Gwen, or any of the other canteen ladies. The last time someone pissed them off, there were no bacon butties for three weeks,” Gene sneered back, poking Sam in the chest for emphasis. Sam looked at the finger as if he wanted to break it off.
“I don’t have PMS, Guv,” he replied slowly, narrowing his eyes dangerously at his superior.
“I don’t care what you’ve got, Gladys,” Gene said, straightening in order to look down his nose at the seated Sam. “As long as you don’t take it out on one of my people. “
“Fuck off,” was Sam’s only reply. He didn’t bother to wait for Gene’s reaction. Instead he stood up, tipping his chair in the process, and stormed out.
At the end of the day Sam had yet to return, so Gene drove the Cortina straight to his flat, ignoring the siren call of the pub. Upon his arrival, Gene had yet to decide whether he was there to chew Sam out or demand an explanation. Probably a bit of both.
When he reached Sam’s door, he found it unlocked, so instead of knocking, he just walked in. Sam was sitting with his back to the door, nursing a cup of tea.
“Please leave, Gene,” Sam said with a resigned sigh, not bothering to turn around.
“Not until you’ve spun me a story good enough to explain why you’ve been acting nuttier than a bloody peanut factory today,” Gene answered, closing the door behind him.
“Judging by precedence, I’ve probably ODed in the future again. All hail the NHS. Or maybe I’ve caught some alien affliction. Wouldn’t surprise me, the way my life is going.”
“What’s that, Tyler?” Gene growled.
“That’s me humorously telling you I don’t know,” Sam answered, getting out of his chair.
“I’m getting tired of your games, Sam,” Gene replied, reaching out to grab Sam’s arm. The action seemed to spark both fear and anger in Sam, causing him to back away, straight into the table. It went down, taking the cup of tea with it, smashing it against the floor. Sam didn’t seem to care.
“DON’T - TOUCH ME!” he yelled, his eyes round and crazy.
“What are you on ab...” Gene started, before Sam cut him off.
“Get the fuck out of my flat, Gene,” Sam yelled, emphasising every word. Desperation shone brightly in his eyes.
Gene didn’t bother arguing. “I expect you back at work tomorrow morning. No excuses and not a single hissy fit, you hear?” he said, pointing threateningly. Interpreting Sam’s silence as concession, he left, slamming the door behind him.
***
Sam did show up at the station the day after, and technically did not throw a hissy fit. He might as well have, Gene thought. Sam spent as much time to himself as he could. He buried himself in paperwork, answered every question in as few words as possible and avoided physical contact like the plague. At one point, Annie managed to gently squeeze his shoulder, causing Sam to excuse himself and quickly run to the bathroom. His tension seemed to rest heavily over CID, infecting everyone around him.
When he showed up for work the morning after, looking no better at all, Gene had had enough. Not caring about Sam’s protests, Gene grabbed his arm and dragged him into lost and found. “What the hell is going on with you, Sam?” Gene sneered, pulling Sam close by the lapels of his jacket. Sam struggled in return, pushing Gene hard enough for the older man to stumble backward, causing him to let go of the jacket.
“I don’t know, okay?” Sam yelled. “I don’t know! I’m having these urges, and they’re getting harder and harder to control.” He paused to look at Gene. “Especially when some stupid bastard or other can’t keep their hands to themselves,” he panted angrily. “I’m warning you, Gene. Keep your hands off me in the future, or we’ll both regret it.”
“You’ve gone completely round the bend this time, haven’t you?” Gene asked, taking a step back. Sam didn’t answer. “I don’t need you when you’re like this. Bugger off ‘til you’ve managed to man up enough that people can actually stand being in the room with you.” Sam didn’t need telling twice. He practically ran past Gene at those words, storming out of CID without a look back.
***
When Sam didn’t return after two more days had passed, Gene decided yet another visit to his flat was in order. Sam might be a nutcase, but he didn’t skip work over nothing.
He found Sam like he’d expected, only Sam was lying on his bed, curled up and shivering madly.
“Christ, Sam, if you’re this ill, why aren’t you at the doctors’?” he asked, walking over to the bed to check on the quivering lump of a detective he found there. Sam didn’t answer. Reaching out, Gene grabbed Sam’s shoulder and turned him round to face him. Sam was sweating profusely, and his pupils were so dilated they were almost black.
“Dammit, Tyler, are you on something?” he growled, angry at Sam for being so damned stupid. Gene grabbed Sam’s arms, pulling down the shirt sleeves on both, checking them for needle marks. There were none. “Maybe you just are ill,” Gene muttered quietly, pulling off one of his gloves with his teeth. He put his bare hand to Sam’s forehead, checking if Sam seemed unusually warm. The contact seemed to spark whatever madness that had taken Sam.
“Gene,” he cried, reaching out to grab Gene’s face with both hands. Taken completely by surprise, Gene lost his balanced as Sam pulled him down, landing on top of Sam’s body. Sam didn’t seem to mind. As soon as he felt Gene crashing down on him, Sam snaked his arms and legs around Gene’s body, bringing their lips together hard. Gene tried to pull back, shocked at the sudden turn of events. He could feel Sam’s hardness rubbing against his hip as one of Sam’s hands tried to tug Gene’s shirt out of his trousers. With a mighty heave, he managed to pull away from Sam’s hungry lips, though the legs were still firmly encircling his lower body.
“What are you playing at, Tyler?” he yelled, trying his best not to let Sam’s grinding distract him.
“Want you, Gene,” Sam panted, forcing a hand down Gene’s trousers to grab his arse. “Need you.” Gene managed to yank the hand out, and by putting all his weight behind it, broke out of the leg lock Sam had placed him in.
“This isn’t right, Tyler,” Gene warned, taking a step away from the bed.
“I need you, Gene,” Sam said, his voice sounding factual rather than pleading. “And you want me. I can feel it when I touch you. Your lust sings in your veins when we touch, just like mine burns in my veins.” He rose from the bed as well, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so. Gene took another step back. “Seeking completion is only logical.” Sam dropped his shirt to the floor.
“Now I know you’re crazy, when you start spouting poetic nonsense like that,” Gene scoffed. Sam didn’t care. He reached out, bringing his fingers to Gene’s face. As the tips touched the pockmarked skin it sought, Gene felt a rush of emotions go through him. He felt his own lust for Sam, the one he’d felt for months now, the grudging respect he had for his DI and another feeling he wouldn’t name, but there were other feelings as well. There was Sam’s lust, his admiration, his frustration, his love. All about Gene. His desperate, burning need. Gene felt as if he would die if he didn’t touch Sam all over, if Sam didn’t touch him in return, and he knew it was Sam’s feelings. Not caring anymore, he was the one who brought Sam’s lips crashing down on his own this time, struggling with Sam’s belt as their tongues met, sliding across each other, probing and tasting. Sam’s fingers were tearing at Gene’s shirt buttons, ripping them off more often than unbuttoning them. Gene let him.
It didn’t take long for him to push Sam’s trousers and pants down his legs, allowing Sam to neatly step out of them as they pooled on the floor. Sam, however, seemed too impatient to take on Gene’s belt buckle. Instead, he stuck his hand down the front of Gene’s trousers, squeezing the hardness he found there, causing Gene to buck into the hold. Reaching down with one gloved and one naked hand, Gene finished Sam’s job for him, opening his trousers and pushing them down, allowing Sam’s hand more room to work with. Sam had other plans. As soon as they were both naked, he spun Gene around and pushed him down on the mattress, face first.
“Hang on, Sam,” Gene tried to protest, but Sam just latched onto his neck, sucking and nibbling, drawing Gene’s voice away. He could feel Sam’s hard cock rutting against his arse, along the cleft, and couldn’t quite stop himself from shuddering at the sensation. He hadn’t done this since he was too young to know better, to know how dangerous it could be.
“Mine,” Sam mumbled against Gene’s skin. Gene could hear him opening the drawer next to the bed, retrieving something without ever pausing his trusts. A few moments later, Gene felt a slick finger probe at his entrance, slipping inside just as Sam bit down on his shoulder. Thrusting his arse back, Gene growled as the finger moved over that spot inside, sending sparks of pleasure through his body. Sam’s free hand slid around Gene’s belly, reaching down to take hold of his cock once more, squeezing and pumping it with slow, even movements. Thinking he’d go crazy from the frustration, Gene tried to trust into that deliciously tight hand. Another finger pressed into him, twisting and scissoring, stretching him until it was all he could do to hold back a moan.
“Mine, Gene,” Sam demanded again, licking and sucking at Gene’s neck, pumping his cock. The fingers slipped out, only to be replaced by a thick, blunt shaft. Sam entered with one swift thrust, burying himself completely within Gene. For a moment, he released his hold on Gene and wrapped his arms around him instead, holding him close as they lay there, interlocked, Sam’s front pressed against Gene’s back.
“Mine,” Sam whispered and started thrusting, slowly, shallowly. Gene rose back up to his hands and knees, meeting each thrust. It didn’t take long for Sam’s hand to find its way down to Gene’s throbbing shaft, sliding over that silky skin, forcing strangled noises of pleasure out of Gene. His other hand moved up Gene’s chest, fingertips trailing patterns of fire over warm, sweaty skin. The hand seemed to move of its own accord, finding its way to Gene’s face with no conscious effort, where the fingertips arranged themselves over hidden nerve centres.
Emotions rushed through Gene, his thoughts opening up to Sam as Sam’s opened up to him. In seconds, he knew his DI more intimately than he’d ever known anyone, and he knew Sam knew him just as well. It should have felt invasive, but all Gene could feel was belonging and euphoria. He could feel what Sam felt, could see the way Sam viewed him, and he felt wanted, needed. Even loved. Their minds seemed to meld into one, and it felt as if that was how it should always have been.
Sam’s voice echoed in his head. “My mind to your mind,” it said. “Parted from each other, yet never parted. Always and never touching and touched.” Gene didn’t know the words, but he could hear himself repeat them, feeling the significance of them seep into his bones. As they moved together, he could feel something forming, something that was both Sam and him, joining them together even closer. He could feel thoughts and emotions running through it, sensations travelling its lengths, and he knew, without knowing how, that he was inexplicably tied to Sam for more than the foreseeable future. There was no turning back, and he didn’t want to.
There was no way of knowing how long they’d been joined like that, their minds becoming one in a way Gene could not explain, but when he came to, they were both spent and Sam had rolled off to one side of Gene, still clinging to him. The connection Gene had felt build was still there, pulsating between them, letting him in on Sam’s sated happiness. There were echoes of the turmoil that had gone through him still, the madness and desperate need, but it was fading, dissolving under the new sense of completion.
Sam was still sleeping, Gene knew, but still wriggled closer, placing his hand on Gene’s hip in his sleep.
“T'hy'la,” Sam whispered, and while it was a word Gene had never before heard in his life, the meaning of it flowed through the bond, warming him with the sincerity of it. Deciding that an explanation for whatever had happened that night could wait, he put an arm around Sam as well, pulling him close as he whispered that one word back.
“T'hy'la.”
***
Explanation for why Sam goes through Pon Farr:
When Spock goes back in time to the 1920s in the original series, he somehow impregnates a woman. The woman goes to family in England so as to avoid scorn for being a single mother. She tells her family in England that she was married, but her husband tragically died. Here she gives birth to a little baby girl called Ruth. Seeing as Ruth is 1/8 Vulcan, she does not have pointy ears. In fact, most of her biology is human. She gives birth to Sam Tyler, who also has human features, and a mostly human biology. He does, however, have touch telepathy, but it’s not strong enough for him to get more than a hint of what someone’s feeling when he touches them. He’s always classed this away as intuition. However, not even a male who’s 1/16 Vulcan can resist the call of Pon Farr, and later on, Plak Tow, the blood fever, which forces him to take a mate, both physically and through a mental bond, or die. This is how it happened.
Rating: Brown Cortina for man love
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Word Cout: 2469
Disclaimer: I don't own Life on Mars or Pon Farr.
Notes: For dakfinv, because she wanted Sam to experience Pon Farr.
I can't believe I forgot to thank my lovely beta gritsinmiseryfor the beta! Thank you, Grits!
Summary: Sam's going through Pon Farr, though without knowing what it is. For those of you who don't know, Pon Farr is the mating ritual for Vulcans from Star Trek.
”What’s this I hear about you throwing treacle tart across the canteen for apparent reason? Chris says it made Gwen cry,” Gene said, probing the sullen Sam.
“She kept prodding me, asking about my mood and insisting treacle tart would make it all better,” Sam sneered.
“Look, you little shit, I don’t give a bloody rat’s arse if you’re in a foul mood because it’s your time of the month, you don’t take it out on Gwen, or any of the other canteen ladies. The last time someone pissed them off, there were no bacon butties for three weeks,” Gene sneered back, poking Sam in the chest for emphasis. Sam looked at the finger as if he wanted to break it off.
“I don’t have PMS, Guv,” he replied slowly, narrowing his eyes dangerously at his superior.
“I don’t care what you’ve got, Gladys,” Gene said, straightening in order to look down his nose at the seated Sam. “As long as you don’t take it out on one of my people. “
“Fuck off,” was Sam’s only reply. He didn’t bother to wait for Gene’s reaction. Instead he stood up, tipping his chair in the process, and stormed out.
At the end of the day Sam had yet to return, so Gene drove the Cortina straight to his flat, ignoring the siren call of the pub. Upon his arrival, Gene had yet to decide whether he was there to chew Sam out or demand an explanation. Probably a bit of both.
When he reached Sam’s door, he found it unlocked, so instead of knocking, he just walked in. Sam was sitting with his back to the door, nursing a cup of tea.
“Please leave, Gene,” Sam said with a resigned sigh, not bothering to turn around.
“Not until you’ve spun me a story good enough to explain why you’ve been acting nuttier than a bloody peanut factory today,” Gene answered, closing the door behind him.
“Judging by precedence, I’ve probably ODed in the future again. All hail the NHS. Or maybe I’ve caught some alien affliction. Wouldn’t surprise me, the way my life is going.”
“What’s that, Tyler?” Gene growled.
“That’s me humorously telling you I don’t know,” Sam answered, getting out of his chair.
“I’m getting tired of your games, Sam,” Gene replied, reaching out to grab Sam’s arm. The action seemed to spark both fear and anger in Sam, causing him to back away, straight into the table. It went down, taking the cup of tea with it, smashing it against the floor. Sam didn’t seem to care.
“DON’T - TOUCH ME!” he yelled, his eyes round and crazy.
“What are you on ab...” Gene started, before Sam cut him off.
“Get the fuck out of my flat, Gene,” Sam yelled, emphasising every word. Desperation shone brightly in his eyes.
Gene didn’t bother arguing. “I expect you back at work tomorrow morning. No excuses and not a single hissy fit, you hear?” he said, pointing threateningly. Interpreting Sam’s silence as concession, he left, slamming the door behind him.
***
Sam did show up at the station the day after, and technically did not throw a hissy fit. He might as well have, Gene thought. Sam spent as much time to himself as he could. He buried himself in paperwork, answered every question in as few words as possible and avoided physical contact like the plague. At one point, Annie managed to gently squeeze his shoulder, causing Sam to excuse himself and quickly run to the bathroom. His tension seemed to rest heavily over CID, infecting everyone around him.
When he showed up for work the morning after, looking no better at all, Gene had had enough. Not caring about Sam’s protests, Gene grabbed his arm and dragged him into lost and found. “What the hell is going on with you, Sam?” Gene sneered, pulling Sam close by the lapels of his jacket. Sam struggled in return, pushing Gene hard enough for the older man to stumble backward, causing him to let go of the jacket.
“I don’t know, okay?” Sam yelled. “I don’t know! I’m having these urges, and they’re getting harder and harder to control.” He paused to look at Gene. “Especially when some stupid bastard or other can’t keep their hands to themselves,” he panted angrily. “I’m warning you, Gene. Keep your hands off me in the future, or we’ll both regret it.”
“You’ve gone completely round the bend this time, haven’t you?” Gene asked, taking a step back. Sam didn’t answer. “I don’t need you when you’re like this. Bugger off ‘til you’ve managed to man up enough that people can actually stand being in the room with you.” Sam didn’t need telling twice. He practically ran past Gene at those words, storming out of CID without a look back.
***
When Sam didn’t return after two more days had passed, Gene decided yet another visit to his flat was in order. Sam might be a nutcase, but he didn’t skip work over nothing.
He found Sam like he’d expected, only Sam was lying on his bed, curled up and shivering madly.
“Christ, Sam, if you’re this ill, why aren’t you at the doctors’?” he asked, walking over to the bed to check on the quivering lump of a detective he found there. Sam didn’t answer. Reaching out, Gene grabbed Sam’s shoulder and turned him round to face him. Sam was sweating profusely, and his pupils were so dilated they were almost black.
“Dammit, Tyler, are you on something?” he growled, angry at Sam for being so damned stupid. Gene grabbed Sam’s arms, pulling down the shirt sleeves on both, checking them for needle marks. There were none. “Maybe you just are ill,” Gene muttered quietly, pulling off one of his gloves with his teeth. He put his bare hand to Sam’s forehead, checking if Sam seemed unusually warm. The contact seemed to spark whatever madness that had taken Sam.
“Gene,” he cried, reaching out to grab Gene’s face with both hands. Taken completely by surprise, Gene lost his balanced as Sam pulled him down, landing on top of Sam’s body. Sam didn’t seem to mind. As soon as he felt Gene crashing down on him, Sam snaked his arms and legs around Gene’s body, bringing their lips together hard. Gene tried to pull back, shocked at the sudden turn of events. He could feel Sam’s hardness rubbing against his hip as one of Sam’s hands tried to tug Gene’s shirt out of his trousers. With a mighty heave, he managed to pull away from Sam’s hungry lips, though the legs were still firmly encircling his lower body.
“What are you playing at, Tyler?” he yelled, trying his best not to let Sam’s grinding distract him.
“Want you, Gene,” Sam panted, forcing a hand down Gene’s trousers to grab his arse. “Need you.” Gene managed to yank the hand out, and by putting all his weight behind it, broke out of the leg lock Sam had placed him in.
“This isn’t right, Tyler,” Gene warned, taking a step away from the bed.
“I need you, Gene,” Sam said, his voice sounding factual rather than pleading. “And you want me. I can feel it when I touch you. Your lust sings in your veins when we touch, just like mine burns in my veins.” He rose from the bed as well, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so. Gene took another step back. “Seeking completion is only logical.” Sam dropped his shirt to the floor.
“Now I know you’re crazy, when you start spouting poetic nonsense like that,” Gene scoffed. Sam didn’t care. He reached out, bringing his fingers to Gene’s face. As the tips touched the pockmarked skin it sought, Gene felt a rush of emotions go through him. He felt his own lust for Sam, the one he’d felt for months now, the grudging respect he had for his DI and another feeling he wouldn’t name, but there were other feelings as well. There was Sam’s lust, his admiration, his frustration, his love. All about Gene. His desperate, burning need. Gene felt as if he would die if he didn’t touch Sam all over, if Sam didn’t touch him in return, and he knew it was Sam’s feelings. Not caring anymore, he was the one who brought Sam’s lips crashing down on his own this time, struggling with Sam’s belt as their tongues met, sliding across each other, probing and tasting. Sam’s fingers were tearing at Gene’s shirt buttons, ripping them off more often than unbuttoning them. Gene let him.
It didn’t take long for him to push Sam’s trousers and pants down his legs, allowing Sam to neatly step out of them as they pooled on the floor. Sam, however, seemed too impatient to take on Gene’s belt buckle. Instead, he stuck his hand down the front of Gene’s trousers, squeezing the hardness he found there, causing Gene to buck into the hold. Reaching down with one gloved and one naked hand, Gene finished Sam’s job for him, opening his trousers and pushing them down, allowing Sam’s hand more room to work with. Sam had other plans. As soon as they were both naked, he spun Gene around and pushed him down on the mattress, face first.
“Hang on, Sam,” Gene tried to protest, but Sam just latched onto his neck, sucking and nibbling, drawing Gene’s voice away. He could feel Sam’s hard cock rutting against his arse, along the cleft, and couldn’t quite stop himself from shuddering at the sensation. He hadn’t done this since he was too young to know better, to know how dangerous it could be.
“Mine,” Sam mumbled against Gene’s skin. Gene could hear him opening the drawer next to the bed, retrieving something without ever pausing his trusts. A few moments later, Gene felt a slick finger probe at his entrance, slipping inside just as Sam bit down on his shoulder. Thrusting his arse back, Gene growled as the finger moved over that spot inside, sending sparks of pleasure through his body. Sam’s free hand slid around Gene’s belly, reaching down to take hold of his cock once more, squeezing and pumping it with slow, even movements. Thinking he’d go crazy from the frustration, Gene tried to trust into that deliciously tight hand. Another finger pressed into him, twisting and scissoring, stretching him until it was all he could do to hold back a moan.
“Mine, Gene,” Sam demanded again, licking and sucking at Gene’s neck, pumping his cock. The fingers slipped out, only to be replaced by a thick, blunt shaft. Sam entered with one swift thrust, burying himself completely within Gene. For a moment, he released his hold on Gene and wrapped his arms around him instead, holding him close as they lay there, interlocked, Sam’s front pressed against Gene’s back.
“Mine,” Sam whispered and started thrusting, slowly, shallowly. Gene rose back up to his hands and knees, meeting each thrust. It didn’t take long for Sam’s hand to find its way down to Gene’s throbbing shaft, sliding over that silky skin, forcing strangled noises of pleasure out of Gene. His other hand moved up Gene’s chest, fingertips trailing patterns of fire over warm, sweaty skin. The hand seemed to move of its own accord, finding its way to Gene’s face with no conscious effort, where the fingertips arranged themselves over hidden nerve centres.
Emotions rushed through Gene, his thoughts opening up to Sam as Sam’s opened up to him. In seconds, he knew his DI more intimately than he’d ever known anyone, and he knew Sam knew him just as well. It should have felt invasive, but all Gene could feel was belonging and euphoria. He could feel what Sam felt, could see the way Sam viewed him, and he felt wanted, needed. Even loved. Their minds seemed to meld into one, and it felt as if that was how it should always have been.
Sam’s voice echoed in his head. “My mind to your mind,” it said. “Parted from each other, yet never parted. Always and never touching and touched.” Gene didn’t know the words, but he could hear himself repeat them, feeling the significance of them seep into his bones. As they moved together, he could feel something forming, something that was both Sam and him, joining them together even closer. He could feel thoughts and emotions running through it, sensations travelling its lengths, and he knew, without knowing how, that he was inexplicably tied to Sam for more than the foreseeable future. There was no turning back, and he didn’t want to.
There was no way of knowing how long they’d been joined like that, their minds becoming one in a way Gene could not explain, but when he came to, they were both spent and Sam had rolled off to one side of Gene, still clinging to him. The connection Gene had felt build was still there, pulsating between them, letting him in on Sam’s sated happiness. There were echoes of the turmoil that had gone through him still, the madness and desperate need, but it was fading, dissolving under the new sense of completion.
Sam was still sleeping, Gene knew, but still wriggled closer, placing his hand on Gene’s hip in his sleep.
“T'hy'la,” Sam whispered, and while it was a word Gene had never before heard in his life, the meaning of it flowed through the bond, warming him with the sincerity of it. Deciding that an explanation for whatever had happened that night could wait, he put an arm around Sam as well, pulling him close as he whispered that one word back.
“T'hy'la.”
***
Explanation for why Sam goes through Pon Farr:
When Spock goes back in time to the 1920s in the original series, he somehow impregnates a woman. The woman goes to family in England so as to avoid scorn for being a single mother. She tells her family in England that she was married, but her husband tragically died. Here she gives birth to a little baby girl called Ruth. Seeing as Ruth is 1/8 Vulcan, she does not have pointy ears. In fact, most of her biology is human. She gives birth to Sam Tyler, who also has human features, and a mostly human biology. He does, however, have touch telepathy, but it’s not strong enough for him to get more than a hint of what someone’s feeling when he touches them. He’s always classed this away as intuition. However, not even a male who’s 1/16 Vulcan can resist the call of Pon Farr, and later on, Plak Tow, the blood fever, which forces him to take a mate, both physically and through a mental bond, or die. This is how it happened.