Thanks to LadyFangs for giving me the idea for this chapter in a review :) Same warning as before

I

She remembers how, in a fit of teenage curiosity, she had typed "How do gay men have sex?" and gotten millions of results. Now, she types in "How do humans and Vulcans have sex" and gets nothing. Or well, a few syntactic anomalies: "Humans and Vulcans have sex by one partner putting his penis in the other's vagina," but nothing remotely detailed or helpful.

And nothing about prongs.

She takes to reading books on Vulcan anatomy at the library. They describe prongs in a very formal, scientific way. She keeps reading until the librarian comments, and she makes up some story about studying hands for a Vulcan Sign Language project.

She doesn't return again.

II

She and Spock return to the oral forms of pleasure, and she makes the unfortunate realization that he really likes his prong. When it emerges, she licks its length and pierces her tongue slightly, and when she does, he opens his eyes, and a crazed look, almost a grin appears in his face.

In the lab, she holds a pen in her mouth, accidentally cuts herself and thinks of him. She is disturbed by how quickly the taste of blood has become arousing.

One day, she isn't careful enough, and the prong goes tearing through her lip. He pulls her up into his lap and pushes her hand between his legs. Then, he leans her back and admires his handiwork. He kisses her slowly, lapping at the blood.

"You like that, don't you?" she asks, but he doesn't need to answer. She can see how much he likes it in his eyes. She can feel how much he likes it in her hand. As he comes, he makes a low growl that echoes through the room like a ricochet.

III

Temptation is a problem. Memory is a problem. The farther away it gets, the less she can remember it hurting. The more she tries to convince herself that sober, she could control him. But then she peels away her skirts and sees the scars. The scars always bring her to her senses.

At a family gathering, Nyota and Amanda are making cookies. The men are in another room. She likes to pretend that they are watching sports, but knows they're probably playing chess or debating philosophy.

"Amanda," she asks suddenly, "I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

"Of course, dear."

She closes both sliding doors to the kitchen.

"I was wondering what you know about prongs."

She looks up nervously at Amanda, who is still cutting cookies.

"What do you mean by prongs, dear?"

Embarrassed, she walks over to Amanda and indicates between her legs, and says in a harsh whisper,

"You know, prongs."

Amanda wracks her brain.

"Oh!" she exclaims finally, "Prongs!"

"Not very much," she adds, "It's only every seven years."

Nyota looks at her funny.

"What do you do in the mean time?" she asks.

Amanda blushes a bit pink.

"Well ... you see, Sarek, he has this most excellent strap-on ..."

"Somehow, I don't think I would be able to convince Spock to ..." Nyota replies staring at the floor, and wondering if that would even work with a guy that could get it up.

"And Sarek thought he would never convince me to play chess with him every night either. You'd be amazed at the number of compromises you can make in a relationship."

Nyota tries not to think about this too much.

"But how do you even know about prongs in the first place?" Amanda asks, looking worried, "Spock hasn't had a Pon Farr yet, has he? He would have told me."

Nyota doubts this, but doesn't answer.

"It's more that he wants to try a bit ... you know, recreationally," she says finally, still having trouble looking her in the eye.

"You're not letting him, are you?!" she snaps with a touch of horror, and Nyota's not sure whether it's because it's her son or because of the prongs.

"That must really hurt," Amanda clarifies, "I mean it's one thing if he's about to kill you, but on a regular basis, that's a whole other matter."

She looks a bit ashamed at her outburst and starts back at making cookies.

"Make sure you douche with iodine," she adds after a minute, "You can get a really nasty infection."

IV

She knows she's not going to be able to convince him, so she feeds him Hershey's kisses and tells him they're coffee cakes. She think he knows what she's doing, because usually he's strange about food, taking small bites and cutting it into pieces, but today he eats everything she feeds him.

Soon, he's feeling woozy and asking (almost too conveniently) to lie down. He does, with a heavy sound.

"What are you doing?" he asks as she grabs on to an arm and he hears a rustle.

"Nothing," she says, and it takes him a minute to turn his head up and investigate. By then, she's got both of his hands tied to the headboard. The legs are a bit more trouble, but he's weak and confused an in the end she gets them.

As she unbuttons his shirt and pulls down his pants, he gives her an unsteady look that had a touch of worry, a touch of fear. And she knows what he's thinking. That in his mind, it's always him on top. That it isn't supposed to be like this.

She rakes his chest with her nails, mostly because she can, and then rubs him until he's hard. He resists, closing his eyes and shifting in an attempt to get away, but in the end she succeeds. He looks so embarrassed to see himself in full bloom, beneath her.

"Do you know how many days I bled?" she whispers in his ear, unforgivingly, and then bites through the ear on a whim. He jolts a bit, but then turns to her for a kiss, and she indulges him.

"Here are the rules," she whispers, moving one hand back to touch him, "There will be no prongs."

"If there are any," she adds, lapping at his bleeding ear, "I will get up and do something else until they go away. This goes on until I'm satisfied, okay?"

She asks, but it isn't really a question. The response he gives is a raised eyebrow, full of disdain.

As she mounts him, she laughs. A little at the situation, but mostly at his expression, half eager and half afraid.