Skinning Cats

Xenite.

Born in flames at the planet's birth. A mineral based virus that could have evolved into a dominant life form except for its incomplete genetic structure, the same structure that made xenite adaptable to many things. As a solid it was a vital part of all transporter system interfaces, duplicating the living DNA configuration of the user for reconstruction at the other end. In a liquid or gel it allowed for the manipulation and regeneration of all forms of live tissue. Forced into a vapor or gas, it could be used to destroy airborne pathogens. Because of its mineral base, once used as a carrier it was rejected by the organic target, allowing for reuse until it dissolved into chaos, the equivalent of organic death.

Found in only one planetary system, xenite commanded any price on the market its owners wanted. It made the system of Ardana one of the wealthiest in the Federation. Those wishing to buy came to the system, including the Federation itself.

But as with all that man can cause to create, it could destroy.

In the silence of planetary night she smiled at the pale lavender liquid in its display case in the Hall of Commerce. It was the work of seconds to key in her father's passcode and shut down the alarm system. Moving quickly she replaced the tiny vial in the plexine box with an identical one holding tinted water. She studied the vial of drug on her palm in the pale light from the minor moon before resetting the alarm and tucking the vial into her belt.

As quiet as the shadows around her, she slipped out of the Hall and back to her rooms.

When its ability to reorganize itself was exhausted xenite decayed, the bulk of it breaking down harmlessly into its separate atoms, each with its own use: carbon, nitrogen, triethium and a handful of trace elements. The remains, if returned to the rarefied atmosphere of Ardana, would eventually settle into the planet as fodder for the remaining live virus to feed on and replicate. Enter man into this otherwise perfectly balanced ecology only to discover that the gases given off during the decay process had a detrimental effect on intelligence, causing diminished higher reasoning functions, while sharpening and expanding emotional response.

Condensed and purified, the xenite gas could be combined with any common ethanol at no more than two percent concentrate by volume to create one of only six chemicals totally banned by the Federation from border to border.

Droxine sniffed and pushed open the door to her suite. The arrogant politicians of the Senate had ignored every reasonable request she had made to have the Treaty of Ardana set aside or modified no matter what argument she gave. One had even messaged he father and suggested he raise his hand against her and marry her off! As if her father had any say in the matter, really! So here she was, with only three barely adequate handmaidens and hardly enough staff to oversee daily operations of the Advisory.

The Federation had taken from her; now she would take from the Federation

A year ago tomorrow the Federation had come to Ardana in the guise of the USS Enterprise and its Captain, James Kirk. Fitting that on the anniversary of their transgression the vaunted Federation and its pet Captain would pay, a task made simple since that same ship was even now in orbit, bearing the formalized agreement between the leaders of Ardana and the rebel Trogs, endorsed by the High Council and the Federation President.

They named it Lust.

The ultimate aphrodisiac. Guaranteed to grant the imbiber six hours of mind-bending sexual pleasure. Multiple partners. Multiple orgasms. No side effects when indulged. Completely flushed from the system within 12 hours neutralized by the endorphins produced by climax, thus physiologically non-addictive.

But psychologically…. More than one had become addicted to the intensity of pleasure, where the lightest breath across an erogenous zone could drive one over the edge into a mind-bending orgasm. Pain hot-wired directly to pleasure, and deep in the rut the partaker cared for nothing but the rush of sensation; taking or being taken, tickled or tormented, licked, bitten, or suckled, racially appropriate or—not.

Well, one little side effect; when orgasm was denied, the mutated virus denied the organic chemicals it needed to complete its purpose, Lust induced pain as intense as the pleasure. Mind-numbing, will-shattering pain, enough to bring the strongest to their knees to beg for release, to promise anything in exchange for surcease. To resist courted madness.

Through pain or pleasure, Lust became the drug of choice for extortion.  So damaging, to sign away important treaty or trade rights in exchange for the touch of a ten-credit whore. So humiliating, for a just and moral planetary leader to be shown on system wide broadcasts carnally engaged with his or her pet of whatever breed. Only those who had tasted it could understand the compulsion, but so expensive only the wealthiest could afford to indulge.

One year ago the Federation had forced a treaty upon her father, humiliating him before his peers as surely as any Lust-ridden Senator turned loose to sate himself in a public square. The Federation had cost him his pride and a good deal of money, as well as deprived her of many of the necessities of her position.

With moves that spoke of long practice Droxine added the small vial of lavender liquid to the dark blue Ogden liquor. In the pale light from Ardana's small moons she watched the two fluids swirl around and within each other, until finally the lavender faded from sight, a dagger hidden in a dark blue robe.

She picked up the stopper then paused, running her other hand over the tricorder next to the gleaming tray with a smile. Really, preparations were well in hand and the dinner she was hostessing for her father was not until tomorrow night. Droxine replaced the stopper on the tray, quickly pouring drinks into two of the glasses on the tray. After a moments thought she poured a third glass, leaving the decanter more than half full. Plenty for what she intended.

Glass in one hand she moved to the communicator on the wall and opened a channel to the security office. She sipped, holding the strong alcohol in her mouth, feeling the warmth from it and the drug absorb into her bloodstream through the thin lining. Heat surged through her when she swallowed, beginning to glow in the pit of her stomach and spreading lower.

"Security, Midro."

Finally, she thought. "Midro, its me. I need you in my quarters immediately. And bring Anka," she added, "I think this will be a two man problem."

"Right away, ma'am." The communicator clicked closed.

Only those who had experienced it could understand the compulsion, but its scarcity made it so expensive only the wealthiest could afford to indulge.

So well-trained and respectful, she thought, loosening the collar from her neck, shuddering at the feel of silk and skin. Soon enough she expected that to once again be the norm.

Or those, like Droxine of Ardana, who had a direct line to the source.

Kirk squinted critically at himself in the mirror and gave his hair one last brushing, then checked his teeth again for good measure.

Still primping? The words, heavy with affectionate amusement, slid into his thoughts as smoothly as the blue-clad arm slid around his waist.

Kirk leaned back against the strength behind him, pressing into his lover's heated body. He raised his chin just a touch higher before he snorted with humor. I am not primping. I am simply making sure I represent the Federation adequately, he returned his own thoughts along the bond between himself and his t'hy'la.

Primping, as I said. Spock pulled Kirk a little closer, dropping his head to rest on the other man's shoulder and leaning into the relief offered by his cooler body temperature. There was a tender, pale neck within reach of his mouth so he availed himself of it, sucking in the slight salt tang and the moan his action elicited.

Distantly, Spock felt the beast that was his fast approaching plak tow stir and he let go of Jim with some reluctance. It was becoming harder daily to stave off pon farr, even with the aid of the new medications developed for Vulcans far from their homeworld and without their bondmates, or those with incomplete bonds as his had once been. Jim was taking as much of the heat and stress as he could and it helped, even though it was less than a Vulcan could withstand.

They were scheduled to return to the planet in less than a month, hoping that this cycle they would be able to have a child with one of the surrogates who had agreed. It was not something Spock was overly concerned with, his childhood not inclining him towards parenting, but his t'hy'la wanted children as much as his mother wanted grandchildren. Or the House of Surak wanted an heir.

Maybe two, Kirk's thoughts curled gently around Spock's own, sensing where his mate's mind had wandered. According to Amanda the men of your House are considered extremely fertile.

Kirk turned inside Spock's arms and ran his hand along the plush of the dress uniform and sent the way it felt along the marriage bond to Spock, the lushness, the faint tickling feeling it left, before he pulled his mate down for a long kiss that left Kirk lapping gently at Spock's mouth while thinking of lapping at something that was digging at his hip.

Spock pushed Kirk back gently and set his libido aside as well, calling on every ounce of discipline he had to push the arousal back. Later, he promised it, feeling the beast that was the demands of plak tow roiling sleepily in the back of his mind. Looking in the mirror he quickly straightened his hair and gave his shirt a final brushing.

Primping, Spock? Kirk's voice rolled across him like velvet.

Spock gave the mental equivalent of a sniff. Simply assuring that I appear appropriately attired as a Federation representative. Vulcans do not primp.

Spock smiled slightly at Kirk's laughter, pleased he'd provoked it; it had become something of a rarity recently. The last year had been difficult on the Captain of the Enterprise, being primarily diplomatic in nature with all the arrangements for the Ardana treaty. Despite his ability to understand people and manipulate them into doing what he wanted, it was not something Kirk was comfortable doing. Spock suspected the additional stress in the link was what had triggered the mating urge to rise early.

"Captain," he said in his most formally reproving voice, "we have by my calculations three-point-two-seven minutes to join the Ambassador's party for beam down." Kirk's laughter started up again, and the Vulcan privately gave himself some small applause at the result of his performance.

But despite Kirk's laughter and the small, lingering smirk that appeared every time the Captain looked over at his First Officer, the treaty party managed to appear on the transport platform of Stratos on time. Kirk himself was the last to beam over, accompanied by the human Ambassador and his Hardrani wife, as well as two security officers carrying the heavy wooden chest with the archaic paper copies of the treaty.

Quickly abandoning the platform for the milling crowd in the next room Kirk immediately picked out his tall First Officer, who appeared deep in conversation with a blond human female Kirk recognized as Droxine, the daughter of High Advisor Plasus. She had an ear fetish, he recalled wryly, remembering Spock's embarrassment at having to explain Vulcan physiology to her, although in the broadest terms possible to fend off her advances. But the bond was quiescent, so Kirk turned back to assisting the diplomatic process.

Spock, however, had been approached by Plasus' daughter moments after he'd cleared the platform, and had been in her company ever since, something that was beginning to wear on his--admittedly limited at the moment--patience. Kirk's appearance gave him the opportunity to excuse himself from her.

"She still enjoys your company," Kirk teased when Spock appeared at his side. "Not that I can blame her."

"Indeed, Captain," the First Officer whispered back. "And truly, who could place blame upon her for that?"

The chime rang, announcing the start of the banquet before Kirk could come up with a truly cutting rejoinder.

The banquet itself was not as bad as he'd feared it would be, despite the sullen droop to Plasus' eyes and mouth. That it was helped along by his wicked bond-mate playing the Vulcan equivalent of 'footsies' from the other end of the table, sending him suggestive images to match each of the exotic dishes they were served didn't hurt. Kirk parried back with some intriguing ideas concerning feathers, when suddenly the Ambassador's wife, B'lia of Hardran, dropped her utensil on her plate with a clatter and began laughing aloud.

Plasus' pleased expression at her response to his rather weak joke turned to a frown when she raised her glass in a silent toast to Kirk. Kirk grinned back, mentally slapping himself for forgetting about the Hardrani telepath with the party; all ambassadorial parties had one with them as a matter of security. Fortunately for Kirk's pride, very few of the telepathic races that traveled had any kind of privacy needs, although they tended to respect those of others, making them very casual about the kinds of thoughts Kirk and Spock had been exchanging. She gave him a flip of her plumed crest to make sure Kirk got the message before turning back to the High Advisor with a fond smile and a pat on his arm that made him break into a stupid smile.

Like all things, the long meal followed by longer speeches laced with such phrases as 'good will between all races' and 'long may this fellowship endure and prosper', finally came to an end. Kirk was looking for the Ambassador's wife when Spock came up behind him.

"Captain," he spoke formally, letting Kirk know that he was speaking officially.

"Mr. Spock," Kirk replied absently, turning from the crowd.

"GentleFem Droxine has informed me that she has recovered the tricorder Crewman Cardanan misplaced last year during the survey. With your permission, I will accompany her and retrieve it."

The idea of Spock going anywhere with the blond and buxom Droxine made Kirk's intuition restless. Not that he thought Spock was thinking of ravishing her, but Droxine was another matter. The girl had appeared particularly attractive tonight, floating around the rooms and moving from group to group on a cloud of diaphanous blue silk, her every languid movement belying the sparkle in her eyes. Well fucked, had actually been the adjective that came to mind when Kirk had first seen her. Of course if that was true, maybe the ulterior motive Kirk automatically assigned to anybody who showed an interest in his mate didn't exist.

Finally he just nodded and waved Spock on his way. "Just…don't be too long about it." He watched Spock cross the room to Droxine's side, and the two of them disappeared into the family section of the Residence.

"You fit well together," a soft voice trilled behind him. Startled, Kirk spun back to find himself eye to eye with the Ambassador's wife. The Hardrani was as tall as he, with wide black eyes set slightly far apart in an otherwise humanistic face. Just the slightest hint of scaling along the ridge of her raptor's nose kept her from being a human in an elaborate costume. The small, black and white feathers that covered her head and trailed down across neck and shoulders, along her outer arm and spine blended nearly invisibly with the black and white sequins of her gown. Her hands held only three fingers with her thumb, a fourth nearly hidden above her wrist in the longer tufts of feathers that grew there. "Cardo has not introduced us yet, he fears with your reputation you will steal me from him." She smiled. "I am B'lia."

Kirk bowed, utterly charmed as he always was by the frankness and good humor of the Hardrani. "James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise." What was that? "Was the dinner to your liking?"

The Hardrani laughed. "Indeed, it's not often I find such stimulating meal conversations except in my own home, or on my own planet."

Something was twitching at the back of his mind, tugging on the bond between himself and Spock, trying to get his attention.

"It was the feather?" Kirk asked, somewhat abashed. He frowned, fighting the urge to look around for the source. B'lia, he noted, was looking just as puzzled.

T'hy'la!

The cry came slashing across his thoughts like a dagger through his flesh and he staggered, one hand instinctively going up to ward off the blow. He shook his head and saw B'lia looking at him, large eyes even bigger with shock. Before he could try and excuse himself she waved him on.

"This way," she said, cutting a path through the remaining crowd towards the door Spock had left through just minutes ago.

Kirk was hot on her heels, using the inflamed bond and his distant memory of the layout to guide him. They both ran, ignoring commands from planetary security to stop as they wound down the hallways. They stopped at an intersection and Kirk cast between the two paths. Neither had been there a year ago.

"Here," B'lia pointed and began again, Spock's distress a beacon to her telepathic sight.

Around the corner and through a door they ran, B'lia leaping over and Kirk skidding short of a spreading puddle of blue and glass. Alcohol fumes clung to Kirk's head, along with a soft, flowery scent he couldn't place. Droxine stood near a small bar, a glass of blue in one hand, the other covering her mouth as if she could physically keep from screaming by not letting it leave her mouth. Her eyes were wide and shocked, but there was a glint there that looked—pleased. Where was Spock?

With a quick glance he spotted his First Officer, crouched against the wall and murmuring softly to himself. His hands were pressed together palm to palm, fingers spread and white with tension, his eye rolled up to aid concentration. Kirk moved towards him slowly, one hand outstretched and the marriage bond open wide. Distantly Kirk could hear voices; deep, monastic voices chanting a meditation passed down from Vulcan male to Vulcan male for time immemorial. Brassy gongs echoed across the words and were answered by light, laughing bells.

Cautiously, Kirk flipped open his communicator, its 'open frequency' chirps contrasting obscenely with the voices Kirk heard from a distance and Spock more immediately. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Enterprise," Uhura's voice, calm and laughing, mingling with the bells.

"Kirk here. Transporter room." Almost there. Almost…there!

Kirk crouched next to Spock, knowing the other man was barely aware of him, wouldn’t even know he existed as a person until they touched. With a last breath Kirk wrapped his free hand around Spock's and tried to pull the Vulcan closer.

Fire. All was fire and he burned, burned, nothing to ease it and then coolness slid across it, muting the voices, quieting the gongs and the bells, the answer to his question and yes, there, there was his wholeness, his being, and the winds from the flatlands would not sweep him away.

Spock relaxed against him, and after the first shock of contact Kirk was able to support them both.

B'lia danced gracefully around the spill of fluid and broken crystal to get to Droxine, and in a fog Kirk saw the concern on the telepath's face change to shock and rage when her hand wrapped around the other woman's wrist.

"What have you done!" Her voice was thick with horror and she jerked back in a flutter of feathers and sequins, dropping Droxine's wrist as fast as she'd grabbed it. "What have you done?"

Kirk barely registered B'lia's shock, her words drowned out by the blood thundering in his head, fluttering in his throat. He heard his name being called, and mutely stared at his communicator.

"Captain? Captain Kirk? Are you there, sir? Come in, please."

Riley. Yes, Riley. "Kirk here." The words were painful to speak, harder to think. "Two to beam up, Mr. Riley. Direct to my quarters. Have Dr. McCoy meet me there."

The blood pounding in his head dropped suddenly, and Kirk choked back a giggle at the relief. Then with a rush of heat it dropped to his stomach, his groin, and a wave of lust crashed over him, hardening him in his tight pants to the point of pain. Kirk squeezed his eyes shut against it, but it made the vision of pale, black-furred skin more vivid. Before the transporter took hold of his thoughts and wrenched them through a loop Einstein never envisioned he saw himself; nude, head thrown back and neck arched painfully, hair sweat darkened and plastered to his forehead, and he recognized himself in the throws of orgasm just as he felt himself spasming around his own penis clenched tight in his heated passage, fluids splashing against his stomach the temperature of the sands of Chabat'h.

Then there was dark, cool dark and he was afraid to open his eyes. Would he have, still, the poor night vision of the Terran, or the superior one of the Vulcan?

Ridiculous, he chastised himself when the lust eased enough for breathing room. I am James T. Kirk, t'hy'la to Spock, Captain of the Enterprise. He let his breath out slowly and opened his eyes. Dark yes, but not pitch black; the light over his desk was glowing palely. Kirk looked down and saw his own hand still holding the open communicator, his other arm wrapped around Spock and holding him close. He flipped the communicator closed and tossed it on his bed then eased himself down. The monastic voices had faded into the distance, barely audible in the back of his mind.

Movement made him realize that his uniform pants were sticky in a potentially embarrassing manner and he sent a wordless question down the bond he shared with Spock. The answer he got made him shudder, for the intellect that was his t'hy'la was buried under an ocean of pain and lust. This was the pain and need of the plak tow along with the demand for bonding and completion that was pon farr. Kirk could feel Spock's body forcing itself over the edge, raising his body temperature to create fertility, which bred in its turn the demand to mate.  But there was something else there, something that laughed along the edge of that chasm while it danced.

The door slid open and shut, the brief exposure to nighttime lighting still blinding to his eyes. Kirk blinked, and McCoy came into focus, brilliant blue eyes intent on them.

"Jesus, Jim, what happened to you?" He ran his scanner first over Kirk then quickly reset it to Spock's hybrid system. "The Ambassador's wife called, hysterical and demanding to know if you were all right." McCoy checked the readings against the diagnostics he had stored. "Even off the market you're still dropping women right and left. Pon farr, and pretty far along. I'll let Scotty know so we can head for Vulcan right now."

Kirk grabbed the doctor's wrist and shuddered. Already he could feel the heat beginning to rise and Spock was stirring restlessly, fighting against…something. "Bones, it's not just the fever. There's something else, something foreign in the link. I think," he paused. Had it really been his thoughts or Spock's? Did it matter? "I think she knows something; B'lia, she's a telepath, a Hardrani."

McCoy looked skeptical, but had to admit that if there was something in the link, something that might be dangerous to either of his friends, Vulcan stubbornness aside, they had to pursue every lead. So he just nodded agreement and rose. "All right, I'll have security check with her, but I'm still having Scotty make for Vulcan, on a medical override if I have to. I'll be back in a couple of hours with some supplements and to check on you two. Do you," he blushed slightly, "have everything? Need anything?"

Kirk gave him a laugh, becoming languid in the heat from his partner's body. The lust was starting to rise, and he wanted it on the bed this time, hopefully without becoming lost in memory. "We're fine. But I suggest that unless you want a rather more thorough education in Vulcan sexuality than you've got you better leave now."

McCoy laughed nervously and left, securing the door behind him on his authority as Chief Medical Officer. He'd been around the block a few times on both sides of the sheets, but he doubted that Jim had seen the predatory look in Spock's eyes as he started to come around before McCoy had left.

Jim didn't need to see Spock's eyes; he felt the heat in the link and twisted in the same moment Spock's lunge took them to the ground. The Vulcan pressed him close, ground his hardness into Jim's groin and dropped his head to Jim's neck nipping at the skin there.

Jim, he whispered through the link. Open to me. Please, my t'hy'la.

There was want there, and need, and the edge of pain that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Jim opened his mind, forced the link wide as he could and let it roll over him as he'd been taught. Milder, he thought, this is milder? Pon farr occurring after the marriage bond was established was supposed to become easier, less violent if more frequent, the constant presence of a mate reassuring and taming the drive behind it.

Spock dropped his weight on Kirk again, driving a grunt from his lungs and Kirk wheezed, trying to suck in enough air. Kirk bucked to relieve the pressure, try and move the Vulcan to the side, but Spock growled against his neck and bit down harder. Kirk could feel the skin break and he gasped at the sudden pain. In defense he fled deeper into the heat, letting it roll him and he felt his body respond, penis hard again. He bucked again, this time to grind himself against Spock.

Suddenly his wrists were free and he clutched at Spock, feeling the material under his hands bunch and stretch. Cloth ripped, and cool air stroked his chest, a contrast to the trail of moist heat that left his neck and made its way down his skin to his stomach. Kirk groaned when Spock's hot mouth left his skin and Kirk scrabbled at the shirt he held, forcefully yanking it over Spock's head to get to the flesh under it. Skin ran hot and silky under his hands, and Jim could feel muscles playing under his fingertips.

He opened his eyes, wondering when he’d closed them, and watched Spock rear back and grip Kirk’s dress pants at the waist. Muscles bunched and the fabric ripped, letting Spock pull it apart at the seam, yanking the material over Kirk’s boots and then finally off. Almost as quickly Spock released his own penis from its entrapment before falling forward onto Kirk’s body again. Caught in the same stream of feeling as his mate, this time Kirk was prepared and caught him before Spock could trap him against the floor, blocking Spock's lunge with raised knees.

Spock balanced there, chest to shin before trying again. He growled low, reaching for Kirk's wrists, but Kirk yanked them out of the way in time, running his hands up along his mate's arms, taking some of the weight of Spock's upper body. Spock wiggled against him and Jim tried to smile reassuringly, even though the fire that coursed through the Vulcan's mind and body was echoed painfully in his own.

Slowly Jim pushed up with his hands while dropping his feet, and after a moment Spock started to ride the motion ending with himself kneeling between Kirk's feet, the human's erection in front of him. In a move that would have been playful any other time Spock captured Kirk's penis in his mouth, sucking hungrily, searching for something to ease the ache in him. The sudden heat and suction made Kirk arch forward with a gasp, never noticing the hands now gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. Kirk's own hands went to Spock's thick, silky hair, tying his fingers tightly in it, trying to hold back the orgasm tingling up his legs, enticed by the heat.

Suddenly he forced Spock's head back off of him and sank down onto Spock's lap. Once, twice, and on the third time felt the Vulcan's penis lodge firmly in his opening. Jim shuddered at the painful stretch and somewhere heard a deep voice shouting in raw pleasure. Raising himself up slightly he dropped down again, and then again until Spock's thighs were tight against his own and he could wrap his legs and arms around his mate's torso and hips. Convulsively Jim buried his face in Spock's chest, shuddering. This was not their first pon farr since Spock had come of age, but it was certainly the strangest, that laughing edge creeping up Jim's spine with fear, almost enough to quench the reflected flames he saw in his mind.

Under the fire he felt something it took a minute to identify as concern and he instantly sent reassurance back along the link, along with the image of the preparations he'd made in the shared head earlier. Spock's moan against Kirk's neck made him laugh with the idea that Spock found the picture of Kirk lubing himself enticing. The laugh shivered along his body and it was Jim's turn to moan when Spock began to teasingly thrust in his depths.

Spock shifted and Kirk caught his reflected intentions, gripping tightly with all his muscles when Spock lifted them both smoothly from the floor and took three careful steps to the bed alcove. Setting Kirk on the edge of the bed he unwound the human from around his body, then tucked his hands behind Jim's knees and spread him wide open. The sight of his flesh embedded deeply inside Jim made Spock moan and shudder, brought a whimper from Kirk when the vision made its way across their bond.

Uniform pants still fastened except for his fly, Spock watched himself begin to move, letting the feelings arc between them. He lost the last shreds of control to fly over the edge into the fire and began pounding into Jim, feeling Kirk's slightly cooler flesh as it clung to him, clenched tightly around him, the convulsions along the length of the delicate sheath when Jim's prostate had been sparked one too many times and shoved Kirk into orgasm dragging Spock's own from him to finally dampen the heat of the mating imperative.

With a last, pained moan Spock collapsed over Kirk's body, barely keeping enough thought to withdraw as gently as possible before rolling over his mate to the side. For several minutes there was nothing but contented silence, Spock resting with his head over Jim's heart, while Jim absently ran his fingers through Spock's hair, the repetitive motion soothing them both.

The flames were finally beginning to die and Spock stretched out, feeling his muscles pull and his joints twinge slightly. Jim laughed and Spock raised his head and one eyebrow in mute inquiry.

You remind me of a cat when you do that, Kirk told him. Are you well, my t'hy'la? he asked formally.

My t'hy'la I am well, and most honored, Spock answered back, just as formal. He eyed the cooling fluid on Kirk's stomach then leaned over and began to delicately lick it from Kirk's skin. In the dim lighting from the desk Kirk's skin looked golden. You are my sun, and like Icarus, I am drawn to fly to you.  Distantly Spock registered the communicator's shrill whistle, but the taste of his mate's skin and semen distracted him. He felt his penis beginning to flush once more, and set himself to nuzzling at Kirk's pubic curls, enticing the other man's organ out to play.

Kirk himself was of two minds about answering that imperative summons, but with many years' skill in reading upside-down noted the Sickbay code and reached up to slap the line open while starting to toe off his boots. Spock not only took the hint and helped him toss them across the room, but also quickly finished disrobing himself before picking up where he left off.

"Kirk here," he said.

"McCoy here. Jim, I've got some good news, and some bad news."

Jim flopped back on his bed and stifled a groan, one hand going over his eyes to block out the sight of Spock kneeling between his spread legs, suckling at his cock and encouraging it towards one more round. "Let's hear the bad news first," he said, spreading his legs and sliding his feet up to give Spock better access. To which move Spock promptly responded by moving his talented tongue down across Kirk's scrotum and began flicking it across Kirk's delicate opening.

"Well according to the Ambassador's wife, the lovely Droxine was trying to entice Spock with Lust."

Kirk ran the words through his mind. The second time didn't make them any clearer, but then that could have been the feeling of Spock's long, strong fingers coating him with lube. From under his arm he could see Spock's other hand wrapped around his own newborn erection while he coated it for good measure. The sight made his own tired libido twitch and Jim rolled to his side, bringing one leg up.

"Explain," Kirk invited his Chief Medical Officer, while he watched Spock crawl up the bed behind him, before he slid all the way in with one long stroke. The marriage bond flared and Kirk caught a twinge of pain along with the deep pleasure.

"The alcohol she was trying to get him to drink was doctored---with Lust. She figured he'd either try to have sex with her, or go insane from the pain if he really couldn't have sex outside pon farr."

Behind him Spock was beginning to move slowly inside him, pulling almost all the way out then back, with a sharp little twitch each time he was fully seated. It was a move that rubbed the double-ridged head against Kirk's prostate every time, sending hot and cold flashes along his nerves. It never failed to make him insane with need.

Kirk quickly checked on Spock's mental state, only to get warm lust in return. The incubus that was Spock under the influence of one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs in the universe was perfectly content right where he was and intended to remain buried there for the rest of his life.

"Revenge, then," Kirk said, grunting a little when Spock broke his normal pattern and double-twitched. "He'd either attempt to rape her, I'm sure she had guards standing by, or die. Good thing she didn't do her homework." He gasped when Spock started to speed up and suddenly bit down on his neck and began sucking. "Have Scotty…have security, pick…her up." Heat flushed through him when Spock suddenly came.

"Jim?" McCoy was starting to sound worried.

"S'okay, Bones. How long till this runs its course?" Spock was still hard inside him and was starting to nibble on his ear, one hand drifting to cover his only partially aroused penis.

He heard McCoy laugh. "That's the good news. Only another two or three hours by the readings. I'll be by then. McCoy out."

More lube was being added to the copious amount already there, not to mention the semen beginning to make itself known. Three hours, he thought, feeling Spock thrust back in and begin to rock. With a sigh he opened the bond wide and let himself get sucked back down into the warmth of Spock's love, ignoring the surface lust caused by the chemical slowly burning through the Vulcan's blood. Could have been worse.

Four hours later Kirk lay back in his bed, an exhausted Spock cradled gently in the crook of his arm. His own body ached, but except for a few twinges it was pleasant, and McCoy would say nothing about it when Kirk stopped by sickbay in the morning. Spock had climaxed twice more inside him before his body called it quits. They had spent the remaining hours engaged in a variety of oral tricks that had made Kirk's jaw ache and left his hands cramped.

But what worried him more was the guilt and sadness he'd seen in Spock's eyes and felt along their bond just before Spock had collapsed, the artificial stimulation from the Lust burned out. Kirk sighed and began gently petting his lover's hair, Spock stirring restlessly for a moment at the touch, then dropping back into a deeper state.

Suddenly he grinned and had to forcibly keep his body still lest his laughter wake Spock from his sleep, the solution to dealing with Spock's guilt leaping up in front of him, plan fully formed. But first…. He reached up to slap his log recorder on.

"Captain's log, Stardate 26473.52. GentleFem Droxine, daughter of High Advisor Plasus of Ardana has been arrested for possession of Lust, as well as administering said narcotic to a Federation officer without his knowledge. First Officer Spock will recover fully."

If I have to rub that stubborn Vulcan nose in it.

"GentleFem Droxine is being held pending investigation. End log."

Kirk squirmed down in the bed a little further, careful to neither wake nor dislodge his sleeping lover. He almost hoped Spock's little bout of guilt lasted a while; he'd been wanting to take the Vulcan sailing, and this would be the perfect opportunity. One last look around their cabin and he was ready to let himself join Spock in slumber.

His eye opened. "Computer. Lights out."

He followed the darkness down into dreams.