Symptoms Unknown

Warnings: Homosexuality, Vulgar Language, Mature content, First Time, Violence, Pon Farr

Universe: nu!Trek

Time: 2 year after STXI events

Pairing(s): Spock x Kirk

Positions: Top!Spock x Bottom!Kirk

Author's Note: For this prompt: http[COLON]/st-xi-kink[DOT]livejournal[DOT]com/379[DOT]html?thread=1508731#t1508731

Spock goes into a premature Pon Farr after exposure to some kind of alien radiation/disease/etc., which causes drastic, possibly violent, changes in his personality, that Spock himself is too fired-up to rationalize. Not being familiar with Pon Farr, McCoy has to simply strap him down to a bed in the sickbay while he researches Spock's symptoms. Kirk visits Spock while Bones is away and finds him straining against his restraints, slowly dying of sexual frustration. I'll leave the rest up to you. :3 Kirk/Spock preferred, McCoy a bonus.

Symptoms Unknown

After two years of service and seventy-five percent of that time spent making an awkward friendship, Jim should have known that Spock's recent uptight, condescending, and over all silent, bitchy attitude was a key tip off that something was very wrong with his first officer.

Like all of vulcans, it seemed, it started slowly, silently, and crept up on the crew as much as it did Captain James Kirk. It was little things; a slight upbeat in orders, a slow dragging of his eyes unapprovingly over the crew, short bursts of modest temper, and minor evasion of tasks and duties that Spock insisted were for the captain and not himself to oblige. Then, it became big things; obvious anger and/or temperament, sudden solitary confinement in his quarters, denial of any preset chess or wrestling practice matches between him and Jim, and worse of all, a sudden lack of appetite. It had been a yeoman whom had informed him that Spock had already denied three days worth of meals!

Out of habit, Jim checked the calendar to make sure it was that time of the year, and was baffled to see that the anniversary of Vulcan's implosion wouldn't occur for another few months. It didn't make any sense. What was causing Spock to behave this way?

Jim hadn't bothered to ask permission and had simply given himself approval to enter Spock's cabin. From there, he demanded to know what the vulcan's problem was only to end up with a shoulder full of hurt and his front plastered to Spock's wall. Spock had let him go, promptly and in silence with full demand that Jim punish him and an air filled with silent apologies, but Jim only smoothed the minor abnormalities away and told his friend to go to sickbay—now.

Spock hesitated in a much longer duration than usual, then tilted his head and excused himself without any words spoken.

That had been four days ago.

Jim entered sickbay, running late, but it had been hard running the bridge and doing his duties without the help of his first officer. Time seemed to fade and by the time he looked up, he was already late for Dr. McCoy's diagnosis. Once there, McCoy looked up from his dataPADD without any snide remark on the matter, and that alone caused Jim's heart to sink.

"He'd dying?" Jim demanded, eyes blown wide open, cheeks going red and hands trying to seek purchase somewhere.

McCoy snapped his fingers on the dataPADD and handed the information to his captain. "That's what this is all telling me, Jim, but I ain't got a damn clue why. None of it makes sense." He looked at the device and read its contents once more. "Adrenaline too high, testosterone off the charts, advanced anxiety, muscle strains, abnormal strength readouts, decrease in ESP mental function, all these things are only telling me that if we don't find out what's wrong soon, the pure energy consumption and hormones will go so high, they'll kill him."

Jim's face darkened. "What do you think caused this? Is it isolated? Has anyone else been showing similar signs?"

McCoy shook his head. "It could have been that planet-wide hay fever from Alstur II a few weeks ago, or it could just be something entirely vulcan in nature, but Spock's being tightlipped about it and the only thing he will tell me is 'too early, it's too early' and neither I nor Chapel know what it means."

"I want to see him." Jim ordered, completely serious. McCoy held him back, putting up his hands to keep him for going any further into his sickbay.

"I can't allow that. As a vulcan, Spock's strong enough as it is, but he's shown signs of intense, uncontrolled violence. It took me, the entire nursing staff, and six security officers to tie him down in the strongest bed we have."

Jim's eyes blew open and his jaw hung in disbelief. "You tied him up?"

The doctor sighed and nodded. Clearly upset with the choice of method. "He was a danger to himself and my sickbay. We had no choice."

Anger bloomed in Jim's face, but he controlled it. "So you mean to tell me that my friend and first officer is tied down in some make-shift looney bin, slowly dying? And you won't let me see him!"

"Repeating what I say isn't going to help you get in there. I told you," McCoy went on, "Spock's a danger to himself and he has lost enough of his right state of mind right now that I'm sure he'd injure you some how. Dammit Jim—we've had two nurses injured just trying to feed him via wireless IV and we had to get Lt-Cmd. Giotto to come down here to do it for them because he's the only one who can take a goddamn punch!"

The seriousness of the situation bled into Jim like snake venom. It was like fire burning into his system. What seemed like the vulcan version of PMS had now escalated into premature death. After all they had been through together, Jim couldn't abandon his friend. The sleepless nights playing chess, the witty banter on the bridge that was only for them, the nights spent walking through the corridors talking about culture and art—and now that bromance was just going to up and die? Jim had glimpsed the future, touched the mind of it—seen it for himself! Spock could not die this way!

McCoy snapped him back to reality. Jim gulped down air and hadn't known he was even holding his breath. "Snap out of it!" The doctor called, taking his shoulders under rough palms. Jim looked up, perplexed and on the verge of letting out something deep within his gut. "Look, we still have time." He continued, his voice dropping low to convey his or maybe Jim's last hope. "He's got at least two more days before the rush of hormones and adrenaline can reach the critical level. I'm working with all doctors I can contact and I'm already having every tiny detail on vulcan physiology sent to me as fast as it can make it."

Jim looked away, but McCoy brought him back. "Jim," he breathed, taking his jaw into his hand to force him to look at him, "I understand your strong affection for Spock, but there's nothing you can do. I'm only telling you this because I know you care about him, but I implore you to remain calm and let me do my job." Brown eyes searched the captain's blue ones, they looked almost soulless. "If all else fails, you can hold me responsible, but you need to remember you're the captain."

"I am the captain." Jim almost sneered, forcing McCoy's hand away as though burned. "And as captain, I order you to let me see him. Maybe I can get him to talk to—"

"No!" McCoy disrupted. "Absolutely not! What part of 'he can tear you ten thousand fucking new ones' are you just plain not getting through that damn thick skull of yours!"

"He's my friend!" Jim shouted, nearly choking on the word.

"He's a danger!" McCoy shouted back.

"He'll talk to me!"

"He'll tear your throat out!" Jim lunged forward to try and push pass his doctor, but McCoy grabbed him by his flanks and kept him from going any further. Jim struggled, trying to claw his way out, only for McCoy to keep him steady on his chest, Jim's force dying down slowly until he was a sagged mess against McCoy shoulder. Jim breathed in hitches, the beginnings of the understanding. "Jim…"

"He's going to die, Bones." Jim said into his shoulder. "Spock's going to die and I just want to know why."

"We don't know that yet." McCoy said, trying to soothe him by rubbing small circles into Jim's back. "And we all want to know why. I promise, Jim, we'll figure it out. And I'll do my best to save him."

Jim took another deep breath and relaxed into McCoy's grip. "I know you will."

"Go get some rest, Captain." McCoy told him with tiny pats on his shoulders and forcing a hopeful smile. Whether or not Jim actually planned on getting some rest didn't matter, and Jim pulled himself away from the doctor's hold so quickly that McCoy didn't have time to judge if Jim's face was red and puffy from anger or crying. Without another word, Jim stomped away from sickbay and disappeared into the turbolift without ever looking back. On cue, a feral moan erupted from somewhere behind McCoy and he sighed at the loneliness of the corridor.

"Damnit, Jim…"

Upon entering his cabin, Jim went straight to work. He wiped his face mindlessly, trying not to focus on the pain of potential loss. It infuriated him that he couldn't do anything for the situation, and blaming himself for not catching it sooner. Two days was so little time to him compared to an eternity without Spock.

He sagged against the wall and leaned his head back just enough to beat it on the stud. He closed his eyes, seeing nothing but his vulcan friend turning to greet him and slowly turn into a untamed creature with razor claws and burning eyes. Then—ash. Spock drifted into the winds of his thoughts, and Jim had a vision of his entire crew looking at him, blame on their tongues and hate in their stares.

Jim blinked and brought himself to focus on his room. Almost cruelly, his eyes landed on the Tri-D Chess board where a match was still in play. They hadn't had time to finish it since all—this—began.

He dragged his feet and pulled himself from the wall, slowly making his way to the board, and stopping once his knees bumped the table it sat on. Carefully, and almost ghostly, he studied the board.

After what felt like an eternity, Jim smiled painfully, then moved the black bishop up two tiers. "Checkmate." He whispered. "You would have had me on your next move." Jim said to no one. "You sneaky bastard."

A sudden alert jolted him so badly that his hand knocked all the pieces on the top tier over onto the floor. Catching his breath, Jim looked over and saw that he had an incoming call at his computer and the alert light signaled it was an emergency. It continued to beep even as he picked up the pieces and put them back on the table. Afterwards, he rushed over and answered.

The computer screen came to life and focused its digital pixels until a figure was formed. Creases and defined lines of age greeted him, wrinkled hands sat folded gently on a desk, and two bright, brown eyes that spoke volumes to Jim, stared at him with a certainty no one could fathom.

Elder Spock.

"Greetings." He began cordially, but before Jim could respond back, elder Spock lifted his hand to silence him. "I believe I may have the answer in which you and Dr. McCoy seek."

"Out of the way!"

Jim dashed down the hall, removing his uniform tunic in the process and working on removing his undershirt. Officers were quick to move and obey, some looking on with question at their captain's urgency.

Jim burst through the doors of sickbay, nearly causing McCoy to drop his dataPADD, though the same couldn't be said for nurse Chapel. "My god," he began, looking at Jim try to regain his breath, "what in the hell's go you so fired up? And where's your shirt?"

"No time." Jim gasped, trying to breathe and stood up. His fingers began making idle work of his uniform slacks, already he was removing his belt. "Where's Spock?"

"Excuse me?" McCoy demanded, standing and waving Chapel out. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Probably." Jim got out, finally catching up and throwing his belt off on to the nearby desk. McCoy only stared at it and searched his captain with bafflement.

"What's this about?" The doctor demanded.

Jim looked up and caught his eyes with shear intensity. He smiled. "I know what's wrong and I know the cure." McCoy's face dropped instantly, his mouth forming shapes but with no words. Jim ignored him and began sifting through his cabinets without permission. McCoy, thoroughly confused, confronted him.

"Now wait just a damn minute!"

Jim turned and quickly began handing him items for him to hold. McCoy took them, but only because he didn't want to drop them. "I'd love to," Jim said upon handing him more items, "but we're on a time crunch."

"Medical gauze, bandages, tape, personal tricorder—pregnancy test? Jim—what the hell is going on?" He finished quickly and turned to pat the doctor's cheek while showing one of his sneaky smiles.

"Do you think you can give me a quick enema?"

"WHAT?" McCoy dropped everything.

"And I need it done in the next few minutes." Jim was quick to add. "If we don't hurry, he's going to enter the blood fever and will be even harder to cure."

Jim started heading towards the medical bathroom when McCoy took his arm and held him tightly. The captain turned back but only briefly.

"Jim," McCoy warned.

"Just trust me." Jim told the floor, but clearly to the doctor friend. "I know what I'm doing." McCoy kept his grip for a few more seconds, then he released him and began picking up the items he had carelessly dropped.

"Fine. But I'd better get a full report about this." Jim smiled and McCoy frowned, picking up one of the enema kits and leading the way into the medical use bathroom. At this point, he was willing to try anything.

Jim entered the sectioned-off medical room. Upon entry, the door locked behind him, a shield went up, and a ceiling camera turned off as Jim requested.

He was wearing a small paper-gown, completely nude underneath, fresh and ready for this. As he stepped forward, he began to take in the scene and was almost appalled by the sight.

Spock was completely nude, strapped down on a soft, padded bed with chains locking him in place and a medical muzzle holding his jaw shut. His hair was tussled around, his eyes opening and closing variably, and his body writhing, struggling, contorting under the straps. Jim stepped forward quietly, slowly, going around the bed until his eyes locked with Spock's. The vulcan froze, glaring at him mutely, but his hands curled into the padded fabric and bloody nails tore into already tearing bed stuffing.

Jim gulped a knot in his throat. He was frightened. "I'm here… to help you, Spock." The vulcan continued to stare, flexing his fingers. "I know what's wrong with you, and I know you're not yourself and you're also frightened, but I need you to trust me on this. I know what needs to be done."

Jim inched forward, unsure what he was about to do, when Spock violently began struggling again, forcing Jim to snap back from being startled. Instantly, Spock calmed, and Jim heard a growl-like sound emanate from his first officer with eyes studying him cautiously. It reminded Jim of a cornered tiger.

"I'm here to help." Jim said again, trying to hide his fear and uncertainty. "I'm here to make you—feel good." The growl lowered, drifting off into a low hum. Jim took that as a good sign and slowly attempted to approach again. This time, Spock remained still, except for those fingers clenching and unclenching in the dried green blood of torn fabric. He walked to his right side and stood beside his hips, looking down at the area dusted with wiry, dark hair.

Jim felt a brief moment of fright, for he saw no penis, but then jumped when Spock rolled his head side to side and lifted his hips. He saw a tiny slit begin to part under the hair and out from it unsheathed a long, hard, thick vulcan penis. It pulsed with need, shimmering a fluid all over its shape. It was a dark olive colour, the ridges on top—there were two—a darker hue than the rest. Other than that, it looked like a human penis, so Jim felt a little more comfortable. He hadn't been sure what to expect.

Spock stopped struggling and was glaring at him again. His growl hissed into a soft purr, and Jim licked his lips. Elder Spock had been vague on details, but had made it clear to him that Jim needed to satisfy Spock's heated lust to calm him down. After a few orgasms, he would be relaxed enough to release and continue the process.

With caution, and eyes focused on Spock's, Jim breathed and leaned down, placing his hands gently on Spock's hips and positioning himself over the vulcan cock. He stared at it, the slit and eye of this member pointing at him, leaking pearls of fluid. Spock rotated his hips slightly, as if urging him on, and Jim slowly reached out with his tongue and experimentally licked the top.

It was like licking pure honey. Before Jim could think, Spock lifted his hips up quickly and shoved the head into his mouth, letting out a groan. Jim took the hint, though still frightened and inexperienced, and sucked the length slowly, trying to urge the alien organ into his mouth. Spock sighed, growled, and tried to move.

Jim closed his eyes, trying to make room for more in his mouth like some whore, and sucked. Spock moaned approval. He continued and quickly set a steady pace, sucking and pulling, letting the vulcan cock fuck his mouth. He laved at its ridges and teased the pulsing vein. Though something he never dreamt he'd do, Jim couldn't argue that it tasted delicious, and strangely gratifying. Arousal seeped into him and soon, Jim felt his own member awaken slowly beneath the gown and tap the edge of the bed.

Cum in my mouth, Spock, Jim told him silently, I want to help you, make you feel amazing.

As if Spock heard him, after a few more sucks and depth, Spock stilled, moaned, and Jim felt a cool, viscous fluid run into his mouth. He hadn't intended to swallow, but found himself doing so against his will and popped off to let the rest spurt out and dribbled down the length.

"That wasn't so bad." Jim gasped. He looked at Spock. "Must have felt good." The eyes looking at him drifted, radiated pure lust, and Jim looked down to see the vulcan penis twitch and stiffen, more shimmering fluid glistening on its surface.

"I know you want more, but you have to wait. Let me breathe, okay? I've never done this before. I'm a little scared too." Spock tried to roll, but failed. Jim attempted to calm him, shush him, and keep him from moving, but Spock stopped on his own. His chest rose with every breath and Jim felt the strapped fingers tug on his gown.

Jim looked down and pulled his gown from the grip. Spock just let it go, and from there allowed his fingers to relax and form a shape. Two fingers were extended, the others folded in gently. Jim recognized the sign and smiled. "I love you too, man." There, he placed his own two fingers on Spock's and rubbed softly, delicately, letting his mind flood with good thoughts to send and smiling all the while. Spock lolled his head around, making quiet whimpers as Jim stroked their fingers.

"You like that?" Jim asked, rubbing a little harder. "I know you said they're sensitive, but goddamn. I wonder what would happen if I…" He pushed rather hard and laced their fingers together, taking a small grip and pulling like he would his own dick. The vulcan groaned, clenching his fingers in Jim's, then lifted his hips and sighed as another orgasm shook him.

The sight was amazing. Vulcan semen spurted out in thick threads, covering his hips and some of this abdomen and thighs. Jim's face heated with a blush. His cock swelled below him. It was turning him on. Spock must have felt that, because he wrenched his grip on Jim's fingers and forced Jim to look at him. His eyes read the same desire and flicked to the noticeable peak forming under the gown.

"Later." Jim promised. "This is about you. Speaking of which," he pulled his fingers away and pulled the tiny ties in the back of his gown, letting it fall from his body and reveal is own nakedness, "it's about time we were both in the nude. Not fair if you're the only one." He winked, but the vulcan didn't see it, his gaze fixed on the fields of Jim's strong body.

Jim snickered quietly. "See something you like?" He turned and flexed his bottom, then parted the cheeks to reveal the pink, puckered nub between them. "I cleaned it for you. I'm going to ride that vulcan dick of yours like a stallion." He heard Spock moan approval. "Figured you'd like that."

He stepped away for a moment to retrieve the small bag he'd taken with him at the door. He brought it back and took out a small tube of lubricant and a small, nude dildo. He winked, then moved away from the bed to a place on the floor where Spock could turn his head and see him in full. With his back to Spock, he parted his legs and squatted down, giving the vulcan a complete view as he lubricated his fingers and began slowly kneading them into his own ass. He winced, but bit on his lip to hide it. It burned, and his ass was a virgin. Elder Spock had suggested that he prep before taking the real thing, and Jim didn't dare disagree. He used his fingers and twirled, the burn causing his erection to deflate, but he was pleased with the encouraging sounds Spock made behind him. Before long, Jim shifted and lubricated the nude dildo, taking it easy and slow.

He looked over his shoulder and flashed a smile to Spock who was still watching him intently, his vulcan penis throbbing. "Just gonna make sure you fit." He led the object down and placed the head at his anus, pushing gently, making his body give way, and gasping when the head broke through. He sighed, a little shocked at the full feeling, and put it in much deeper until he could take no more. He sat on it, his muscles screaming in protest, but Jim ignored them and began to move gradually on the object.

He bobbed up and down, not feeling pleasure, but not feeling much pain either. It was just a completely full feeling. He did this for a while, giving Spock a good show and moaning to make it seem like he was enjoying it, when he moved the object slightly forward and managed to hit something that sent pleasure racing up his spine.

Jim moaned, feeling aroused, and tried to hit it again. So this was why it was so appealing… Jim was almost lost in the sudden pleasure when he remembered he was only preparing for Spock. When his muscles didn't protest as much anymore, Jim began to stand and popped the object from his body, letting the lubricant drip down his thighs.

He turned. "Ready for the real thing?" It was more of a question to himself than to Spock, but soon Jim was moving and climbing on to the bed. He positioned himself over the vulcan's lap, and leaned down to swipe away the tussled bangs from Spock's face. "I'll make you feel good, Spock. Don't worry."

He took a moment to compose himself, then got into position. With one hand he steadied himself on Spock's hips and with the other he began to guide the hard alien penis towards his opening. Jim gulped and bit his swollen lips, then took the plunge and let the cock force its entry.

Jim slid down the shaft, both he and Spock moaning in unison. At the bottom, Jim tried to adjust, and twitched about, rubbing his cock on Spock's stomach to try and get it to come alive, but this was so foreign to him. Both of them were breathing hard, and Jim thought that the medical muzzle might be preventing necessary oxygen intake, so he slowly reached forward and unlocked the clasps, finally allowing the vulcan to breathe properly and speak.

"J-Jim…" his voice sounded raspy and on a dry throat.

"Shhh…" Jim told him, still adjusting, "I'm going to help you." He rotated a little and managed to brush that gentle spot inside him. He moaned involuntarily then blushed.

"You…you are…" Spock was trying to say and Jim looked at him, "you are… beautiful, Jim, when you… moan." He sighed and bucked slightly at the force. "I want to… hear more. I… demand it." His gentle voice took a strange tone, one of authority and strength. Jim brought himself up and started to fuck himself at a smooth pace. As requested, he began moaning and being vocal for his friend.

"Ah, Spock!"

"More." Spock ordered.

"It feels so…! Ahn!"

"More. Moan like a whore." That made Jim gulp and he felt his body react strangely. He didn't know why, but he threw his head back and started a heavier rhythm, moaning like a bitch in heat for him. Now that he knew where that tiny spot was, he was trying to hit it and that only made moaning easier for him. It felt so good.

Jim wasn't sure how long he was there, bouncing up and down on his friend's cock, his thighs screaming from use, and his sphincter feeling abused and slightly sore, but somewhere in all that time, the pain had gradually lessened to the point where he could bring himself up and slam himself down with a brutal force that caused no sensation. With this time, his mind began to wander and Jim wondered if what he was doing was sufficient.

Looking down, Spock's eyes were softly closed in bliss, his mouth open and gaping with harsh breath, and his hips were moving up to meet Jim on every downward thrust. It was bizarre to him, seeing his vulcan this way. In any other situation, he knew that Spock would never do this, probably wouldn't have suggested it and took death over it, but Jim couldn't have been any more thankful for elder Spock's call.

Jim reached down and stroked Spock's chin, then leaned forward and hesitated his lips over Spock's. Vulcan eyes opened and met his in a lock. Breath bounced between them. Jim could not imagine life without this vulcan, without Spock. He was his other half, and not even the time-altering romulan Nero could prevent it from happening. It was destiny that brought Jim to that icy cave on Delta Vega and it was fate that brought them to that bridge, to relive the same story, the same friendship, the same love, as two brave brothers before them.

"Spock," Jim sighed, feeling the vulcan lifting into his pliant body. He rested his forehead against Spock's, both men closing their eyes as the sensations washed over them. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"It was… too early." Spock got out softly, but still with force. "I did not know—I thought I would be spared this…" Jim smiled. His friend was still in there, beyond all this violence and loss of control. With a tender care, Jim brushed their lips together, aimlessly, silently, breathlessly, and repeated the human kiss many times.

Spock violently turned his head, Jim searched him. "You must… stop. I can not… I am loosing control… I may—" He groaned, his eyes screwing shut and Jim fell back, trying to quicken his pace and relieve the pressure. He fucked himself on that vulcan organ, pushing down hard and heavy, trying to squeeze the milk from him.

"H-harder…" Spock growled. Jim tried to comply, but it didn't seem like it was enough for him. Hands began once again curling and tearing into the bed fabric, and Spock contorted against him, trying to move and feel more. "I. Need. More…"

"Tell me what I can do." Jim begged, using all his strength to hold himself up and continue his work. In an effort to help Spock regain some lost control, Jim placed his fingers over Spock's once more, trying to rub them and send him more calming, good thoughts. It didn't seem to help and only forced the vulcan to howl and fight against the restraints.

"Spock?" Suddenly, Jim heard loud breaks, snaps, and before he could process what had happened, he found himself forced backwards on the bed and one free vulcan holding him captive from above. One strong hand took hold of his hands and pinned them above his head, the other taking his legs and putting them over his shoulders. Jim looked up, completely taken and frightened, but Spock looked determined and positively cruel. Then he felt Spock line himself up once more, and—

He called out, moaning, feeling pain and pleasure all at once as Spock began pistoning into him with much more force and speed than Jim could have managed on his own. Their bodies slapped and echoed into the room like obscene abuse. He could feel the alien organ pummeling him, hurting him, and Jim thought it a miracle he was still alive.

"Spock!" He called, not sure it was for him to stop or persist. "Oh god, Spock!"

"Mine!" The vulcan hissed, letting Jim's legs fall to either side of him so he could lay his body on the weaker human's. He kept up his pace, drawing out pitiful and loud calls from Jim, and then reached forward with his free hand and began searching for the meld points.

Jim panicked and tried to move his head away. Elder Spock had warned him not to let Spock perform a mind meld for the consequences were a bonding so tight, that only a vulcan healer or death could break it. The elder hadn't had time to explain to him what a vulcan bond was or what it would be like, but the shear thought that Spock wanted to enter his mind while how own was in utter insanity terrified him.

"No!" Jim begged, still trying to move from the searching fingers. "Don't! Spock! You can't!"

"Mine…" Was all Spock replied, and he forced his way to Jim's neck, taking in his scent and biting the man's shoulder. Jim cried, shocked and surprised by the mixed sensations, then felt the fingers locate their destination. All went white.

The only thing Jim could comprehend was fiery hell, needles, brimstone, sand, and see himself like he was watching a dream. He could feel Spock moving in and out of him with such force that he was sure he would die. He felt Spock hold him, and Jim held him back with tears stinging into his eyes as he was enveloped by the insanity. A wet, sticky, full and milky insanity.

It could have been minutes, hours, or even days when Jim finally woke up. But when he did, it wasn't to the medical room he had walked into, but a brightly lit room, a soft bed beneath him, and a shadowy figure hovering over him, obscured by the brightness of the light behind him.

"Go into the light." He recognized the voice immediately.

"Not funny, Bones." The doctor removed the harsh light from his eyes and Jim could focus on the room better. He was in a small medical room on a biobed, a short distance away, Spock in his own biobed, lying peacefully and silent. Though the circumstances had been less than preferred, seeing his friend finally at peace made him smile and Jim relaxed back on the biobed, only now taking notice of a full-body numbness.

"Why can't I feel my legs?" McCoy was checking the stats above him and stopped when asked that question, a smirk on his lips and a drawl breaking through.

"After all that sexual aggression, the fact that you're coherent is a miracle. Spock fucked you until the bed broke, then kept going right on the floor." He picked up the bed chart dataPADD next to Jim and began reading it. "You've suffered such severe injuries that I've got you on enough painkillers to put down an Aborhygen Rhino. The numbness will fade, but you're going to be extremely sore for a few weeks and you'll be lucky to have a normal bowel movement in less than five days."

Jim laughed to himself and McCoy looked up. "That's no laughing matter, Jim. Just to save you the excruciating pain of your intestines absorbing vulcan semen on top of that, we had to pump most of it out of your system and we've got enough to fill an old milk can." McCoy shook his head and blushed slightly, saying under his breath, "Never seen so much spunk in my entire life…"

Jim laughed again, not so much minding the results as long as everyone was okay and only letting his head fall back as he admired his sleeping friend beside him. It quickly fell silent, the sound of medical instruments swiftly filling the air in its wake.

McCoy didn't say anything, but swapped looks between them, noting Jim's adoring stare. "So," he began softly while at the same time he checked more data, "you gonna tell me what this was all about? Don't get me wrong, Jim, I always knew you were the type to use any excuse to get sex, but I didn't take you for a bottom."

Jim thought about it and looked away, thinking about what elder Spock had told him and secrecy this state of affairs was shrouded in. He knew he could trust Bones, but he wasn't sure how this Spock would feel about telling the doctor something so intimate.

Before Jim could give an answer, though, a calm, even voice beat him to it. "It is called pon farr, Dr. McCoy, and the stress of many variables caused my half-human and half-vulcan body to suddenly enter the fever at an earlier rate than expected." Both Jim and Bones looked over to him, but his eyes were closed and he looked like he was still sleeping. "It is a mating drive," Spock continued, "one that if not sated would have resulted in my death.

"Though rudimentary compared to proper vulcan ritual, the captain's timely arrival doused the flames and saved my life." Here, Spock opened his eyes and flicked his gaze to Jim with a strong stare full of feeling he could not convey. "And for that, I am thankful."

With a smile, Jim looked down at his legs under the sheets and blushed a little, before shaking his head and giving in to his inner thoughts. Without a second thought on it, he reached his arm out and held two fingers towards Spock's direction, not looking at him, but still brightly lit on his face.

Bones looked on suspiciously, growing a smile as he watched Spock counter the offer and held out his own arm and allowed his two fingers to lay and rub against Jim's while at the same time, not looking at him. They looked like a couple of preschoolers with their first crush.

"I'm going to let you two rest," McCoy said suddenly, making the pair drop their fingers and snap back into reality, "but don't think I'm not going to question more about this pon farr later. I expect you both to give me full reports on the matter." Jim and Spock nodded in unison and the doctor left, taking his dataPADD with him.

Silence fell over them awkwardly. For a few minutes, no one said anything and they both searched the room for anything to look at other than each other.

"So," Jim started, "same time next seven years?" Spock didn't bother to dignify that with a response and only put out his fingers once more. Jim met them and rubbed gently. "I think I'll be ready for whatever… this… is in seven years." He looked up and met Spock's eyes, both men lingering longer than they should.

"Indeed, Captain, I do believe more time to let this grow would be adequate." Jim smiled and he saw the vulcan smile in such a way that was cleverly Spockian in nature.

Their fingers never let go.

End.