A/N: "There's a bad moon on the rise." There will be very vague descriptions of dub con. I will mark them so you may skip them if you wish. The exact description bears no weight on the story, only the existence of the event.


The trip took longer than Jim expected. Spock had to stop several times to catch his breath, which concerned Jim greatly, but now that he knew what was going on he wasn't as frightened. When they arrived the two guards took up positions at each door. Jim brought Spock in and laid him down on the bed.

"Okay, sugar, you want to tell me why you had to nearly die before you told me this wonderful little tidbit?" Jim was sarcastic. Spock pulled himself out of his uniform and lay on the bed in just his underwear. "Computer, raise temperature-" Jim began.

"No," Spock breathed, and Jim stopped. "I am too warm as it is."

Jim frowned. "Spock, you're freezing. Your hands are Popsicles."

Spock scooted up the bed until he was sitting against the bulkhead. "Jim," he began, and a shiver ran through his body. "I was unsure until I saw the neuroscanner results yesterday. Then I did not know what to do afterward," Spock admitted.

"Well, if this is the same thing you and Solion told me about, uh, it's pretty obvious what needs to happen. I mean, is there anything else? Don't you need to go home or something?" Jim sat down carefully beside Spock and began pulling off his uniform.

Spock went still, and cast his eyes downward. He did not answer. Instead, he began reciting a long, complex formula he was working with in the lab. "…x-squared minus v to the eighth six times…."

"Spock." Jim crawled up on the bed and captured a hand. "Spock, what did I say wrong?"

"newvulcanisnothome" was the quiet, mumbled reply.

"What?"

"New Vulcan is not home." Spock pulled his hand away and began to trace patterns on the bedclothes. "Everything we are, everything we ever have been, has been formed around our planet. Our biorhythms, our culture, everything was built around the second planet orbiting 40 Eridani." He took a shaking breath and made a weak fist. "Now that it is no more, I do not know how these things work. I am uncertain, and too ashamed to ask the questions that need asking."

Jim closed his eyes in both pain and frustration. Then I'll have to ask, he sent.

I doubt you will receive the answers you desire. Spock was resigned.

Jim opened his eyes and glared at his mate. "You mean to tell me nobody will answer a direct question? I'm not going to the freaking media over it; I just need to know so I can get you through this." Jim got up and went to the computer. "I know who will answer."

"Do not bother him," Spock protested.

"Screw that. He'll answer, and I'm asking. It won't be a bother to him." Jim dialed the number. Belatedly, he checked the chronometer again. It was almost ten at night there.

"Hello?" came the quiet response.

"Solion, it's Jim. Are you alone?" Jim sat down at the computer desk to preserve the modicum of modesty he was still clinging to.

"I am alone. How are you?"

"Listen, this is going to be awkward. I don't know who else to call. Spock's gone into pon farr and he said something about it being different with Vulcan being gone. What do I do?" Jim threw everything on the table, figuratively. He watched as the older Vulcan went still in a very familiar way and began to study the keyboard of the comm. station.

"I distinctly remember me asking you not to disturb the ambassador with this problem," Spock snapped.

At the sound of his counterpart's voice, Solion looked back up. "It is not a bother, tomasu. You are not the first to face this particular dilemma, nor will you be the last. Not for another generation. There is nothing that can be done at this point, James. You know what normally quells the insanity. That is all you can do at this point." Solion gritted his teeth for a moment. "Please call for help if it becomes any worse."

Solion paused for a moment, and then asked a hesitant question. "Does Dr. McCoy know what is occurring?"

"Bones guessed about the cure, but he wasn't aiming for it. He's going to keep an eye on us and he took us both off duty for a couple of days. Why?" Jim looked back to check on his mate.

"It would be best if he were brought 'into the loop' so to speak. Is Dr. M'Benga on board still?" Solion looked at Jim hopefully.

"Dammit. No. He left last year to return to New Vulcan to help on the planet." Jim thought about it for a moment. "Should we just head for New Vulcan?"

"Not at this time." "NO." Two eerily similar voices rang out at the same time. Well, one spoke and the other shouted. Jim looked back and forth between the screen and the bed.

"I do not wish to involve anyone else in this matter, Jim. I expect you to honor my wishes in this." Spock narrowed his eyes at his partner. Jim blew out a breath and glanced back at Solion. "James…" Spock warned him.

"Do as your sa-telsu requests, James. There have been very few fatalities in this – "

"Fatalities? They've died over this shit?" Jim was on his feet, heedless of his Pink Panther boxers showing.

"James. A Vulcan male can go quite far before any lasting damage is done. I myself had chosen to let the madness take me in the end before my Jim showed up alive and well. Simply let nature take its course and watch him carefully. This may all resolve itself without any problem."

Solion leaned back. "Now, I will tell you this much. In the latter stages, a Vulcan will become extremely possessive. Do not attempt to contact me again until you have resolved your difficulties. I wish you the best of luck." Solion raised one hand in the ta'al and used the other to cut the connection.

Jim sat back down and stared at the computer terminal. "Do not…? Possessive…? What is he talking about, Spock?"

Spock was curled up in a ball on the bed and did not attempt to answer. Jim got up and crawled back on the bed to run his fingers through his husband's hair. It always amused him to mess it up. Now it was just a pathetic stab at normalcy.

"Hey, mister, what do we do now? Do we just … you know … go at it?" Jim swallowed softly.

"I need to meld with you for it to be effective," Spock muttered, shaking his head so his bangs fell back into place.

"Okay. Then, uh, let's do this." Jim scrunched down until he was face-to-face with Spock. "Meld away."

Spock closed his eyes briefly. "I find I do not wish to."

Jim wrinkled his nose. "You don't want to? Like, now? Or whatsoever? 'Cause this isn't going to just go away with a wish and a prayer. Hon, you've got to do this, so do it." Jim grabbed a hand and tried clumsily to position Spock's fingers on his psi points. "Meld with me."

"No." Spock pulled his hand back stubbornly. "Jim, this is hard enough on me as it is. Your mockery of my situation is not helping."

Jim sat up in disbelief. "Mockery? Mockery? How is this a mockery? Jesus Christ, I'm doing everything but stripping and raping you! You need to mate, you need to meld, and I'm offering myself to you, what the hell else do you want from me?" He tucked his legs under himself and began poking at his quiet partner.

"Hey. Hey." Jim poked him in the shoulder. "Hey, you stubborn bastard, I'm talking to you. What else do you want?" **


Spock moved so fluidly, so quickly, that Jim didn't have a prayer. Instantly he found himself pinned under a considerably heavier mate. His hands were bound above his head and his feet were held in place by Spock's. Spock's breath was whistling through clinched teeth and his eyes were mere slits. Jim went limp and projected gentle thoughts through their bond.

"You will submit to me," Spock whispered harshly.

"Submitting," squeaked Jim. Spock moved Jim's wrists together so one hand was holding his wrists and the other was roaming all over Jim's body. Spock quickly removed Jim's boxers and captured a prize midway down the body. Jim squirmed a little.

"I said submit," Spock reminded him. He caressed the flesh roughly and Jim swallowed. Strangely enough, all thoughts of an erotic nature had fled his mind when his husband had pulled a Jekyll and Hyde. He couldn't get aroused now if he tried. Spock seemed to sense this and flipped Jim over on his stomach effortlessly. Sliding out of his underwear, he began an assault from behind. Jim tried his hardest to hold still.

Spock growled and everything that had ever defined their lovemaking went out the window. What ensued was neither caring, nor gentle. It was rough, possessive, dominating, and quite honestly painful. Jim bit his lip so hard at one point that he drew blood. Bright red streaks crisscrossed the bed sheets where his mouth trailed a path back and forth, up and down. Still, the assault did not ease. Jim found himself reciting 18th century poetry in his mind to keep his sanity. He was beyond feeling pain by that point.


**After forty-five minutes Spock's left hand trailed up the bed and his fingers fastened on Jim's psi points. Strangely enough, the physical attack had been brutal, but the mind that entered Jim's was light, almost childlike.

T'hy'la! Spock greeted his not-so-willing partner enthusiastically. When nothing but poetry answered him, Spock's physical motions began to wane and the mind became more insistent.

Jim? Spock slowed further. Why are you reciting poetry? You only recite poetry when … you … are … frightened. Spock withdrew from his physical actions and sat up. Jim did not move from his position on the bed. Spock's sensitive nose caught the tangy scent of human blood and suddenly time ground to a halt.

"Jim?" Spock's voice was rough. "Jim, please speak to me. I am so sorry. I am so sorry, t'hy'la. Are you injured?" Spock rolled Jim over gently and inspected his body. There was some dried blood on his lips and tear tracks down his face. His breath came in shallow bursts, which indicated some possible internal trauma. Spock's hands traced gentle patterns up and down his partner's body, trying to assess the damage.

"I will call Dr. McCoy," Spock breathed, and started to get up when a weak hand closed on his wrist. He sat back down. "What is it, ashayam?"

"You're …." Jim's breath caught for a moment. "You're not … done yet."

Actual tears grew in Spock's eyes. His chest felt as though a band were encircling it. He sank down and drew his mate up in his arms.

"T'hy'la, you are injured. I cannot allow this to continue. I will find another way." A single tear dropped down Spock's cheek and landed in Jim's eyelashes.

"No," Jim whispered. "I'm alright. Just, get it over with." His last statement was ground out at a considerable cost.

Spock's shame tripled. "I cannot…."

"Do it." Jim panted and slapped Spock's hand back to the side of his head. "Meld with me. Fuck me. Do what you have to. You're not dying over this bullshit. Not on my watch."

Spock fought hard but the ancient drive was too strong. He was overcome, and soon remounted his mate. Over and over; mating, melding, mating, melding. After nearly two hours, Spock took a break. He replicated some cool fruit and brought the plate over to his exhausted partner.

"Eat, t'hy'la." Spock eased a piece of cantaloupe between Jim's swollen lips. "This has nutrients and liquids. It is important that you eat this." Jim ate listlessly and fell asleep after being left relatively alone for almost fifteen minutes.