Disclaimers and warnings in chapter 1.


Spock's erection was problematic. It did not dissipate as he had hoped, and meditating seemed out of the question as well as likely to be ineffective. He was left with the question of what to do. As he saw it, he had at least three options: he could suffer, he could find a partner among the roiling mass of humanoids engaging in sexual relations on this bridge, or he could assist himself.

In his current state, disconcertingly out of control of his bodily functions, suffering seemed cruel and unnecessarily stoic, even for him. That left two options, the more distasteful of which was having sex - something he had not done before - with a random individual. That left him to take matters into his own hands, he reasoned, then noticed he had already unzipped his pants and was in the process of releasing his penis from its confines.

Like intercourse, masturbation was not something he had indulged in before. He noted in the back of his mind that the pheromones on the bridge were affecting him deeply even though he was Vulcan. It was his pesky Human half that was betraying him.

In any case, Vulcan or Human, he had one whole penis, and it was harder than he'd ever felt it. He was desperate for release, and he gave in to the pheromonal tide and placed a hand firmly around it. Of course he had done this before, in the course of using the bathroom for example, but never before had he gone a step further and allowed himself to squeeze it. He did so, experimentally, and a shock ran through him and he barked out an unheard-of sound. His head snapped up and he looked around, finding that no one seemed to notice, let alone care.

He continued, applying himself to his task. At first he simply squeezed himself several times, taking stock of the sensations that arose. They were remarkable, disturbingly pleasing. Every time he exerted pressure, his penis seemed to jump and move in his hand…and he liked it. He was already sure this would become a regular activity, and he hadn't even quite started yet.

Rather than being assuaged by his touches, illogically his physical craving grew more intense, and he began to feel as though his penis were begging. He moved on to very simply sliding his hand up and down its length. The first time he did so, he gasped at the sharp, pleasurable feeling. He slid up and down again, then again, until his body melted into the motions, which became more like pulls, then more like pumps. At one point he became acutely aware of what he was doing - and where - and nearly fatally lost his rhythm. He looked around from under his formidable eyebrows, as if he could hide with his pants open, his legs spread wide, and a huge green erection in his hand. But again, no one paid him the slightest notice.

He became curious, of course, and switched hands. However, he found that it was not only more difficult, but oddly wrong, as if he were cheating on himself. He quickly added his left back in and tried both hands, slightly rolling himself between them, and he vocalized again when what seemed like hot plasma rose inside him. He returned to one hand, now adding a twist to the end of each pull. The sensations were too great to continue considering scientifically. His breathing became shallow, fast.

And then, the strangest thing happened.

A different part of his mind - a very unscientific part - took over. He began to see images in his head that confused him. Images of himself, as viewed from the outside, sitting at his science station, his legs wide, penis in his hand. With his eyes closed, he both felt and imagined the head of it slipping in and out of his fist.

Then he saw Nyota. He was surprised by her presence in his thoughts. Nyota? If he had turned his head a few centimeters he could have actually seen her. But he closed his eyes and imagined her body, her hair rushing down over her small breasts. He imagined what they might feel like under two of his fingers, his whole hand. What her taut stomach would feel like if he touched her. He imagined her mewling and pushing her hips toward him. She was shining with beauty.

Then his thoughts lurched sideways into something that mortified him, but also made him feel deeply good. He pictured Nyota bent over a console and saw himself standing behind her, his legs spread, his penis about to enter her. His imagination was insufficient to conjure up what that would feel like. But just dreaming of positioning himself at her entrance made something wonderful happen. Back in the waking world Spock howled as hot, white semen shot all over his clothes.