Pon Farr - Beginning

2267 - On board the Enterprise

He stood in the doorway, his fists bunched at his sides. "Nyota" he rasped through clenched jaw. Sweat glistened on his face, his eyes dulled with fever, muscles twitching.

She glanced up at him from where she sat at her desk and immediately her fingers danced over the work surface, closing files, clearing menus, shutting down her work. "Is it worse?"

"Yes." Only that one word, reluctantly dragged out of him. Through their bond she felt dismay, regret, desire, fear.

She rose and crossed to him, standing close but not touching. "What do you need?" She raised her hand and gently caressed the side of his face. He turned into her palm, mutely begging for her touch on the familiar points. She moved her hand into the shape he had taught her as his other hand moved upon her face and full force of the meld opened. NEED.

Her knees nearly buckled from the force of that one plea. Immediately she moved into him, putting the full length of her body against his. He was so hot - the fever was much worse. Remembering what they had discussed, she pressed her face into the side of his corded neck and bit - hard. There was a sharp intake of breath. "Skin" hissed out from clenched teeth. Without moving from where she was pressed against him, she reached down and caught the hem of his shirt and pulled it quickly up. He raised his arms so that she could pull it over his head and immediately dropped them to fumble with her tank. "Let me, you'll tear it."

When her bare breasts connected with his sweat-slicked chest, he heaved a sigh and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her even closer. With his face buried in the crook of her neck, he began to mutter in Vulcan, growling low in his throat. She began to urge him backwards, towards the room they had prepared, the room containing nothing breakable. Normally as graceful in movement as a panther, he stumbled and staggered. She held him upright by sheer force of will, giving him little nips on his shoulder to keep him moving. When he stood beside the pad on the floor, her hands moved to the waistband of his loose pants, dropping them to the floor. His growls intensified as he began to move against her, hands roaming over her body, pulling at the brief shorts that she still wore. She pushed against his shoulders, trying to force him down to the floor, but he panicked and would not release her.

"Spock, I'm not going anywhere. Lay down on the floor. Remember, we talked about this. LISTEN TO ME." She strove to break through his increasing desperation. With great effort he released her and dropped down upon the pad, then grabbed her ankle and pulled her down on top of him. "Let me get my shorts off first." Unfortunately, those were the wrong words and the offending garment was ripped into pieces before she could remove it. Hot hands pulled her against him hard as he muttered and growled. She spread herself over him, trying to touch everywhere at once. She continued to bite him on the neck and shoulders and upper arms. Pushing his arms to the floor on either side, she pinned him down with a hand on each bicep. He thrust his hips up, the hot, hard length of him blazing against her stomach. "MINE"

"Yours. Yes, all yours. You KNOW that." She strove to keep him flat, to keep his arms pinned. He was so much stronger than she was, if he really tried to break free she would not be able to hold him. She knew he was struggling harder than he had ever before to keep control. He was terrified that he would hurt her. Beneath her he mewled in frustration as he continued to thrust against her body, trying to find the way in. The muttering was louder, the growls deeper. He was so hot his body burned against her. Muscles twitched and rolled all over his body.

Despite the lack of any sort of foreplay, she was desperately wet. His smell permeated her being, all those male pheromones flooding through her. He raised his head towards her, drawing in great breaths, smelling her arousal. A feral grin spread across his face. "MINE!"

Trying to gauge the depth of his control, she decided the time had come. Shifting her weight against him, she slid first higher and then lower and gave him the entrance he desired. He stiffened beneath her and then with a great lunge thrust into her, hard. "MINE, MINE, MINE!" Each exclamation was accompanied by another thrust. His arms bulged and strained beneath her hands, but he did not lift them from the floor. His neck arched and the back of his head pushed against the floor. His heels tried to dig holes in the soft pad which no longer cushioned them. All his body was focused on the movement of his hips. "MINE, MINE!"

She felt her climax building. No, he needed more, she couldn't, not yet. She struggled to distance herself, to regain control, to force herself to wait. It was too hard. Her head arched back, her breasts straining against his chest, her hips pushing against his, her muscles convulsing. "MINE" She screamed aloud and through the meld, forcing a tidal wave of love, desire, possession, acceptance through him. With a great shout, he emptied himself into her and collapsed limply back onto the floor, lying panting and gasping.

Nyota 1, Pon Farr 0.