Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and her characters), Ahlysha, dinopoodle, Caren Rose, and jackiemack916 for reviewing! You're all awesome!

A/N: First part is kind of M. Don't like, don't read.

Solok stroked Roxanne's hair as she rested in his lap, running her medium-length red locks through his fingers. She was sleeping peacefully, and he looked down at her, tempted to see what she was dreaming about. His fingers hovered over her temple, but he withdrew them. He did not have the right to intrude on her dreams in any way yet. Though...he had to admit that the urge to bond with her was terribly tantalizing...but he had to have permission...

He sighed and landed the aircar, then lifted his Roxanne in his arms and went to their hotel room. He laid her down on the bed, and an idea sprung to mind as he stroked her face. He wanted her awake...he had the urge to mate with her again, and it would not be denied. If he could not have her mind, he would see if he could at least satiate his hunger with a brief encounter.

He lowered his head, hiked up her dress and tugged her leggings off her legs, and her underwear after that. Then he went to work.

She moaned slightly, but did not wake, and he worked harder, plunging his tongue into her, as if he were painting a picture inside of her.

He felt her awake with a sharp gasp, and on a whim, he glanced at the timepiece above her head. Twenty minutes to midnight. Perfect.

"I'm glad to see you awake," he purred, continuing his lascivious kiss on her womanhood. She whimpered and wriggled beneath him, her legs parting even more for him. Hunger was gnawing at him, and he took a thigh in each hand and spread them wide, piercing her with his tongue. She let out a soft yelp and bucked her hips, but he used his strength to keep her in place. Ten minutes to midnight.

He worked harder at her, making her writhe and buck into his caresses, and with only two minutes till midnight, she released for him, spilling into his waiting mouth. He groaned, swallowing down her essence, and he closed his eyes.

"You taste...exquisite," he growled, and in the blink of an eye, his nose was at her neck, inhaling her like a psychoactive drug. "And your scent...what is it? I should know what this is..."

He growled and sniffed at her hair, at her neck, in between her breasts (he pulled off her dress and tossed it aside), but he gave up and kissed her as midnight came and went.

"Now," he whispered, his fingers trailing down to where his mouth had been. He pushed them inside her, causing her to gasp. "Why don't we satiate your desire for intimacy outside the realms of intoxication?"

She moaned and nodded. "Go right ahead, I'm all yours tonight," she breathed, and he smirked, pushing his fingers further into her and biting the juicy meat of her shoulder. She cried out, and he smirked into her neck.

"Do you mean that literally? Do not say what you do not mean in front of a Vulcan male, especially when he has designs on your person. He will take you at your word. And since you have stated that you are completely mine, I will not hesitate to engage in intercourse with you. Is this acceptable?"

She groaned. "Solok! Just...please!"

"Oh, but ashaya, I enjoy hearing you beg," he purred in her ear.

"Solok!" She sat up and growled his name an inch from his face. "Sex now, talk later!"

Those four words, and her tone of voice, had his blood prickling with flame, and he lost the desire to tease and wait. He felt the overwhelming need to take her, and he shoved her onto her back and positioned himself to enter her. She moaned like a wounded animal as he hesitated but for a moment, and then he took her with a strong, swift thrust.

"You wanted sex now," he purred in her ear, slowly moving himself deeper into her tight core. "And your wish is my command."

Something in her scent made him want to fill her to the brim, yet his instincts were telling him to not be as rough as he might have liked to be. He felt protective of the woman writhing beneath him, and he would protect her from anything that might befall her...even his own eagerness and thoughtlessness. This was no game, no competition of passion...this was desire unbridled, unleashed, and he made sure every move he made pleased her, pleasured her in the fullest.

"Bite me hard, Solok," she cried, wrapping her legs around him, pushing him in deeper. Her hands ran through her lush red hair, exposing her neck to him. "I know you want to, do it!"

Her hands snaked up his body and pulled him down close to her. "Come on, Solok!" she whined, "I want you to bite me!"

He needed no more encouragement. He bit her so hard he felt her skin yield almost instantly, and she howled his name as he pounded into her. He had no idea why she was being so aggressive, but it was rousing his blood and making him feel...feverish.

No, he thought to himself. His first fever had not come yet, but still...it was as if she were the one in pon farr, the way she was demanding him to bite her, to take her harder...he growled and bit her again, and again, and again, and again. When he went to bite her yet another time, he felt her release, but he did not stop. He continued a punishing dance meant to exhaust her, and he pressed his thumb to her throbbing bud, causing her to cry out and arch into him.

He roared, picking her up and shoving her against the wall, pushing himself as far into her as he could go, and soon he was spilling, but still he did not stop.

"Mine, Roxanne!" he growled in her ear, wincing slightly at the sound of his animalistic voice. "Say you're mine!"

"Yours!" she howled. "I'm...I'm Solok of Vulcan's woman...yours!"

He roared like an Earth lion, like an animal in heat, and they crashed together. He spun her around so she could fall back on the bed, and he was on her in another moment, taking her once more.

"Then I will take what is mine!" he growled, slowing his pace so she could feel all of him moving in her. Their feet kicked off the pillows, but at this point he did not care. He only cared that he could get at her, and please her. "And I will see to your contentment, ashal-veh!" he shouted as he took her with stronger thrusts.

She whimpered and bucked into him, that fiery aggressiveness coming back. It was intoxicating to see this, to feel this, while sober. The sensations were so much clearer, so much more intense this way.

She ran her fingers through his hair, twisting his straight locks between her fingers; she arched her back into him, and he felt her release once more. He gave her no time to recover as he pounded into her with relentless thrusts.

"Solok!" she cried, pressing her lips to his. She pulled from his mouth and kissed up his jaw, and she captured his earlobe in her teeth. He growled. "Solok, I want you as much as you want me." She bit up the outer shell of his ear, her hips thrusting hard against his. "Make me yours, Solok, take me and make me yours!" Her nails ran down his back. "Do it Solok," she growled. "Make me yours, possess me!" Her fingers dug into his taught muscles. "Do it Solok! I need you!"

He could not resist the urges that were plaguing his soul any longer. She had asked for possession; he would grant it. His hands cupped her jaw with ruthless force, and something deep inside of him told him not to let go. His blood was roaring in his ears as he instinctively poured himself into her, binding her to his katra. The bond was forged, and the link held strong as he withdrew. As reality settled back down around him, and he was not so awash in all that was her, he felt her clench and crash again, spilling over him. He returned with release of his own, casting his seed deep into her.

And then he realized it.

She was panting, only half-conscious at this point, as it seemed the bond had sapped her of her remaining energy. He leaned down and tentatively pressed his nose into her hair, and he inhaled, checking the bond as he did so.

She was pregnant.

He carefully slid his arms under her and cradled her in his embrace when he finally comprehended that fact, and she made a soft noise as she fell asleep. He leaned over the side of the bed and fetched the discarded pillows and propped them up so he could hold his ashaya, his telsu through the rest of the night.

He was to become a father.

Even though he was nearing forty (he was almost twice her age, he thought ruefully), young by Vulcan standards, the thought of being a father pleased him greatly. He wondered what their child would look like, how they would behave...would they have pointed ears? Green blood? Would they follow logic and discipline, or be openly emotional like Roxanne? Strange how he did not consider Roxanne a true human anymore. He thought of her as she who would be his wife, and thus she was, in a sense, Vulcan.

However, he could not deny that she would have human needs, and human reactions, human emotions. He knew his father would find her disagreeable and demand that he sever this bond. His mother would be pleased that he was making the mother of his child his wife, as was proper. He did not want to shame his clan, or his parents, for not taking responsibility for the actions he had taken last year. It was time to live up to his age and be a man. It was time to take care of his Roxanne, and their child, and prove to her that he was worthy to be called he who is her husband.

Roxanne awoke with royal pain in her lower back and a headache that was apparently trying to split her head open, and she felt two immediate urges, and one goal: get to the bathroom, now.

She felt arms trying to hold her back and lips trying to kiss her neck, but she shoved them off and ran for the bathroom door, turning on the light with a wave of her hand and collapsing in front of the toilet. She then deposited the contents of last night's dinner into the receptacle, and she wrinkled her nose at the horrid smell. Still, she forced herself to breathe in deeply, preparing herself for the next onslaught, and she paid no heed to the hand on her back. She heaved and puked up more of her guts, spitting out the bile that was left her throat.

"Roxanne?" She heard his soft, deep voice by her ear, and she hastily wiped away tears, knowing this wasn't quite over. "Telsu, are you unwell?"

"I'll be ok in a bit," she retorted before vomiting again. "Be a dear and get me some mouthwash, would you, please?"

She waited, and it seemed to be over. She accepted his offering of mouthwash with a throaty, hoarse thank-you, and after wiping her face with a cold, damp washcloth, she felt decent enough. She padded back to bed, Solok at her heels, and she curled up in bed, exhausted out of her mind.

He slid in beside her and stroked her hair back from her neck, and she murmured thanks before closing her eyes and trying to fall back asleep.

"When were you going to tell me, Roxanne?" She frowned and turned around, staring at him incredulously.

"Tell you what?"

His brow furrowed. "You do not know?"

She shook her head, and his gaze softened. "Lie on your stomach, ashal-veh, and I will help you with your pain."

She obeyed without protest, and he straddled her rear, stroking his hands over her bare back. She realized she was naked, but she didn't mind that much. But then she realized that he had mentioned her pain, but she didn't think she had let on her back pain that much. Was he catching on to her emotions with his Vulcan spidey sense?

"Solok, how did you know I-"

She stopped talking and cried out into the thick pillow, growling in pain as his fingers dug deep into her lower back. "Solok, what the hell?" she shouted, her voice muffled by the fluffy pillow.

"Neuropressure," he explained coolly, releasing her from the pressure of his fingers. She felt beautiful release settle over her muscles, and she sighed.

"Wow, that...that feels – aah!" she cried as he pressed again. She closed her eyes and bore it, feeling a strange calm settle over her as he continued. She somehow knew that he was only trying to see to her needs, to make her feel better, and she was truly touched. Once again, she was amazed at how far Solok had come from the pompous bastard she had picked that fight with in the Launching Pad.

"Relax, Roxanne," he cooed, switching to an Earth-type massage. She mewled in pleasure as he worked at the muscles in her back, and soon she was nearly purring like a cat. He was very good at this, and she could feel herself drifting off into relaxed, contented sleep.

"Yes, ashaya, sleep," he purred in her ear, kissing the exposed flesh of her neck. She sighed into the pillow nearly asleep. "I have wearied you with my passions. And I suppose our child has wearied you as well."

She fell asleep, too tired to realize what he was talking about. She was warm and safe and content in his arms, in this bed, and everything looked like it was going to be ok.