The events that took place two hours previously were never to be repeated or of spoken of ever, ever again.

He was deeply, deeply ashamed that he had effectively… very effectively… used pictures of his Captain to masturbate over.

He sat deep in meditation, the incense thick and cloying in his nose, his shoulders slumped forward as he concentrated on calming the lingering feelings of lust and astonishment at finding his Captain's photographs in the room. Why Dr McCoy had placed them there was a matter that he would never broach, partly because he would therefore be admitting that he had seen said photographs, that he had in fact used them and that if the doctor felt inclined to later look for the album that it would no longer be there.

His jaw clenched and he drew in a few shaky breaths as he contemplated the complete and utter illogic, no... the stupidity of taking the album full of photographs with Jim' in various poses, in various items or non-items of clothing, back to his quarters with him. He pondered his fascination with his captain's mind and body for the remainder of the afternoon. Towards the end of his meditation session, he was breathing sharply through his nose; his heart rate elevated and a clear sign and feel of arousal, sitting heavily in his trousers.

He was – obviously- extremely sexually attracted to Jim.

This, this was an acceptable outcome. This feeling of desire, of lust, could be tempered and tamed. Controlled. It did not have to affect his relationship with Nyota, as he decided that even if he were to be placed under penalty of death, he would never admit this new found revelation to her. It would however affect his relationship with Jim. Now that he was aware, he would have to take care to not place himself in situations or positions that could inspire these feelings to come to the surface.

Resolved to carry out this course of action and partially satisfied with the outcome and level of peace his meditation had provided him with, he came back to his body. Seeing the physical proof of his arousal as he looked down, he stood awkwardly and using the palm of his hand, he rearranged his penis with a grunt and willed it to disappear. He was expecting Nyota in approximately one hour and fifteen minutes, for what would no doubt prove to be another taxing evening and he was grateful that he had had enough time to strengthen his shields and focus his mind.

He looked at the black photo album sitting on his desk. His brow furrowed, his hand reached for it, his finger sliding over the casing. He huffed and picked up the forbidden contents from the table and turning, he strode over to his asenoi.

Beneath his mediation tools, he placed the album inside a compartment and with a click, he locked the temptation away. It was illogical to keep the photographs, reckless even, however the thought that someone else may come across them and use them in a similar manner in which he had used them, made his teeth start up their habitual grinding.

No, he would rather keep them safe and away from prying eyes of others.

Jims' ears perked up at the sound of muffled voices through the walls, her pulse beating rapidly in her neck as she tried in vain not to listen to what was no doubt another 'conversation' between Spock and Uhura.

Was she a terrible person for making them fight like this?

She sighed guiltily; this was one question that was going to bother her for years to come. It kept going round and round inside of her head. The thought that she was going to be considered as the 'bad guy' or the 'other woman' when or if Spock and Uhura broke up and the feelings those thoughts brought up made her shiver. When they eventually got round to telling the crew of their plans, they would undoubtedly pick sides and come what may, she would have to buck up and weather the looks, the gossip and the consequences of going through with all of this.

She swiped her palm across the mirror in the bathroom, the steam from the very rare water shower she had taken, having clouded the room and the glass. She brushed her hair and tying it into a knot she scratched at the back of her neck. Her skin was feeling prickly, almost itchy, too tight against her bones and more sensitive to touch since Bones had administered that hypo earlier that morning.

She trailed her hand down her neck, the drag of her fingers settling over her chest and she realised that she was feeling hot in a way that had nothing to do with the shower she had just taken. Her stomach was quivering with a sensation close to butterflies, her thighs squeezing together, her nipples tightening beneath the robe she had slung on. She was panting; her pupils large and her freckles had darkened due to the rush of blood suffusing her face.

Did she have time to take another shower? She eyed the extendable, bendable shower head with a grim look of longing.

For god's sake.

What the hell kind of pheromones had she been injected with? Orion? She took a few deep breaths to calm down and forced herself to stand with her legs apart. Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at herself at the mirror, silently ordering the debauched looking reflection to get a grip.

No, wait a minute, she knew Orion pheromones had no effect on Vulcans, so logically it would stand to reason, that the pheromones had to have come from a Vulcan woman. Ones that were most likely taken from a fertile Vulcan woman. How and why these kinds of 'ingredients' are on board her ship was a mystery to her. She would have to check with Bones.

Making sure the bathroom was clean of all her things – she knew how Spock hated disorder – she stepped through to her quarters and crossed to her chest of drawers. Since this was more of a social call, she felt comfortable enough with Spock to not have to wear her uniform. She shrugged on a pair of light blue jeans and one of her white undershirts that she usually wore beneath her command golds. She left her feet bare, grimacing at the thought of putting shoes on when she was in her own quarters.

She moved the chairs around in her room, dragging the table over an inch or two and started setting up the chess set. She ordered the lights lower, the room taking on a soft red glow and adding a quiet background sound of classical music she nodded to herself in satisfaction.

She set out two cups, ready for him to get here. She subconsciously smoothed her hair down and back and giving the room a once over to check for any hidden bra's beneath the sofa – she was known to do this on occasion, throw her clothes about- she chewed on her lip as she paced back and forth, waiting for him to arrive.

Ten minutes later and she stopped her floor assault with wide eyes, her mouth gaping open.

Why was she going through all this effort? The lights, the cleanliness, the music…why did she care all of a sudden what Spock thought of the way she was dressed or if her quarters were clean. Vigorously shaking her head to clear her panic she ordered the lights to ninety percent and blinked stupidly as white spots danced in front of her eyes.

It wasn't a date goddammit. She switched off the music.

And yet…

She was nervous, almost skittish, her palms sweaty as she wrung them together as she waited for him to chime at her door for entrance. She sat down in front of the chess set, the black pawns taunting her.

Your move Mister Spock she thought as she closed her eyes.

Getting lost in memories.

How very human of him he thought without amusement. He had just had another unpleasant conversation with Nyota over dinner, her explanation as to why she had confronted and behaved in that manner towards his Captain, was insufficient for him to logically understand. She had gone so far as to compare her behaviour with how his ancestors had behaved when their mates were being threatened. She had tried to justify her scathing words with claiming that he belonged to her and to her only. That she was somehow within her rights to behave the way she did. The thought did not sit well with him, he was not property and he was not an object to be coveted and jealously guarded.

When she had voiced the words 'You are MINE'; to his consternation and intense surprise he had taken a step back. Yes, they were indeed betrothed and linked; however this did not give her the right to dictate who he was permitted to spend his time with or how he chose to do so.

When he had voiced his opinion on her own opinion, her gasp of incredulousness and accompanying snort was loud enough to his sensitive ears, that he actually flinched. He had to yet again remind her, that though Surakian warriors of old regularly challenged and fought to the death over mates, it had been hundreds upon hundreds of years since Vulcans had cast away those practices and applied the path of logic to their daily lives. Therefore her excuses were unacceptable and of great disappointment to him.

He had ended up staring at her for a matter of ten minutes, both of their continued silences, making the air in the room appear thin and uncomfortable. Eventually, he permitted himself to sigh and proceeding to step towards her he had whispered almost pleadingly to her, trying to follow his father's advice, that he wished that they would cease this illogical arguing. He had asked her permission to perform a meld intending to soothe, to placate, to reignite what once drew them together.

She had agreed after a moment's hesitation and upon entering her mind, he was dismayed to see that the pathway that he had created in her mind, the trail of footsteps that allowed him to lead him back to their link, was distorted and broken.

He had asked her telepathically if he could enter deeper into her mind and receiving her agreement he had attempted to create new footsteps, a new path to their link. Her mind had reacted most violently to this attempt. He had caught snippets of her thoughts, a jumbled confused, angry, chaotic mess and the pure disorder of her thoughts alone caused him to retreat from her mind, slamming down his own shields so as not to receive any more of her thoughts lest they compromise him.

If she had received any of his own thoughts he could not be certain of this. When he had broken the meld, there had been beads of sweat on her forehead, her fists were tightly clenched at her sides and he himself, felt exceptionally tired and drained. He had briefly spoken to her about the difficulty he had had when it came to accessing her mind and he had taken note of the sudden fear in her eyes before the emotion had been replaced with something unidentifiable.

Where they would have usually ended their evening engaged in frantic sexual intercourse, she had instead turned from him in silence and left his quarters.

Coming back to the present, he shook his head again as the happenings of the past two hours played through his eidetic memory.

It should not be this way. Could he maintain a relationship with a woman whom he loved but could never truly connect with, in the way of his people? In the way that was vital to his continued health? Could he sacrifice even more of his heritage? Of who he was?

Taking a rare moment to stretch, his back arching as he raised his arms above his head, he caught sight of himself in the reflection of the window and he frowned, cocking his head to the side. He was scheduled to meet Jim in eight minutes.

The unexpected urge to change his attire overcame him. He dressed himself in a pair of black trousers, the flowing material making him hum as he fingered the cloth between his fingers. Arganian silk truly was incomparable to other materials when it came to comfort. He unfolded his white polo necked sweater and tugging off his science blues, he re-clothed himself in swift movements, keeping his shoes for last.

His hair had become rumpled, the follicles curled around his ears and he smoothed them down into their natural form. He observed his appearance for a moment longer, satisfied that his captain would indeed notice his efforts to connect with her on a more personal level, in a more casual setting.

He walked through the bathroom doors, taking note of the unusual cleanliness of the sink, its surface barren from all of her usual paraphernalia. His brow rose to indicate his surprise and as he chimed on the door to her quarters. He straightened his sweater one last time and clasped his hands behind his back.

The chime rang and Jim bolted from her seat, knocking the table with her big toe and she squirmed as she held in an undignified snarl of pain. A pawn fell to the floor with the sudden jostle and with a curse she scooped it back up and repositioned it. She cleared her throat and walking calmly to the bathroom door, hit the switch and allowed him entry.

A vision of near perfection entered her room, his usual science blues gone and she brought up a hand to her mouth. Was she drooling? Gods, surely it was a crime to have someone look this good, this goddamn edible she thought lustily as she surveyed him from top to bottom. She scrunched her hands together behind her back, mimicking him as he walked straight over to the chair she had set out for him.

''Good evening, Jim.'' He greeted and she cleared her throat again as she robotically walked over to join him.

''Spock.'' She croaked with a nod in his direction before picking up their cups and heading to the replicator.

''Judging from your expression, I surmise that you are surprised by my appearance.'' She heard him say somewhat awkwardly and she groaned internally. Oh, please don't be adorable as well.

''Yes, it was certainly a surprise. It, uh, looks good on you. Really good.'' She said and smiled shyly at him as he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look settling on his lips.

''So, how'd your day go? I mean, err... I know you had to go see Bones… No, wait, I don't want any details!'' she quickly squeaked as she saw him stiffen in his seat ''shit… forget I asked.''

''Thank you, Jim.'' He said taking the cup of tea from her.

As they started their match, she couldn't help herself from glancing up at him from her bent over position over the board. His eyes were trained on the game and she took her time looking at how the sweater clung to his arms, how it curled around his neck, the white material looked soft, fluffy… it must be some kind of wool to help him keep warm. From this angle, he looked unusually cuddly… cuddable… squishy? Gods, she just wanted to feel what his body would feel like while wearing that.

Jim's eyes lifted to linger on his lips, the plumpness of the lower one surprisingly pink for someone who had green blood flowing through his veins. If she were to bite it… would she see green bloom underneath the skin?

''Jim.''

''Huh?''

''It is your move, Jim.''

''Oh.'' Forcing herself to behave normally she engaged him in small talk about his father and how he had taken the news that he was gonna be a grandad and she was happy to hear that at least she had one person who wouldn't hate her for this.

''I have also decided that I will take the night shifts if you have no objection Captain, as Vulcans can go significantly longer without sleep. It is also in keeping with my usual habits.''

''Ah, yeah that suits me Spock. It shouldn't last that long, this hypo Bones gave me, I mean.'' She mutters, not wanting to discuss the how he might be forced to be attracted to her.

''Negative, Jim. I have calculated that you should be infected with McCoy's concoction for three weeks, two days and one hour precisely, even if you were to conceive a child, the drug administered will stay in your system until it disappears naturally.''

''Oh. Well, let's just hope it has no adverse effects on you.'' She says quietly over the rim of her coffee cup and his face briefly shows his confusion.

''Jim, should I become… enamoured by your scent...'' he trails off with a frown and she can't help but smile fondly at him as he struggles to find the words. She was grateful that he would show this apparent weakness in front of her, as in all the years she had worked with him, he never stuttered or faltered unless he was alone in her presence.

''I trust, Jim, that should I behave illogically around you for the duration of the time previously mentioned, that you will not as they say 'hold it against me'.''

''Of course not, Mister Spock.'' She reassures him and she's thrilled to see a small tilt to his lips indicating what could be a smile of his own.

Gods, he really did look good enough to eat in that sweater.

''There is however, currently no indication that I will behave the way you and McCoy expect me to.''

''I suppose only time will tell.'' She said and she didn't know whether she was relieved or disappointed by his statement.

''Indeed.''

He watches her yawn, the fourth occurrence in the last thirty minutes. He considers retiring early from their chess match as it is currently the third in the series. The hour grows late and he can see that she is exhausted. He surveys the board again and hums quietly. He has lost only once and each time he does he feels illogically pleased. How dynamic, how interchangeable her thoughts and ideas are from his own. She excels at strategy, clearly.

His eyes drift across her hands which were toying idly with a knight she had taken from him, her fingers long and pale, her nails perfectly cut to suit her needs. The pads of her fingers rubbed over the head of the knights' and he swallowed reflexively. He felt himself twitch as she pressed down on the head.

The way her two fingers dragged up and now down the spine of the miniature figurine made him think of the ozh'esta. Granted, it was the type of Vulcan kiss usually only performed mid coitus… which only added to the peculiar feeling of his blood heating, the longer he stared at her fingers.

He sniffed the air cautiously….

''Would you like some more tea, Mister Spock.'' His captain asked him and he nodded without really thinking about what it was that he was agreeing to.

As she stood, she walked past him and scratched at her neck, the hair there rustling and a breeze created by her movement travelled past him. Within a matter of seconds, his entire body shuddered. His eyes became hooded, his nostrils flaring, his temperature rising and his hands curling into fists as he fought the unforeseen urge to simply grab her wrist and pull her down on top of him.

''Hey Spock, are you alright?'' she asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

Her scent...

Oh, Surak… her scent was the combination of the wildest desert flowers on Vulcan, the sweetness of its nectar, the bitterness of its roots, the most seductive combination of aromas and they called to him. She was calling to him. She was all things desirable, edible and pleasurable in that moment and he wanted to devour her whole.

He attempted to hold his breath as he staggered up right, his loose fitting trousers seeming exponentially tight as his penis began to respond to the stimuli his nose was providing him with.

''Captain. I must leave. At once.'' He gritted out, sucking in another breath to hold before he next spoke.

''Wh—Oh… Oh my god…'' she moans hoarsely as she looks down to his groin with glassy eyes and he hisses as she licks her lips, her mouth pink and inviting. When she lifts her eyes from his groin, her blue eyes meeting his own, he loses another fraction of his control.

Enchantress.

Temptress.

Succubus.

He recites the words in every language he was proficient in, as he continued to look at this woman who would surely drive him to madness, with how frequently she drew out unwanted emotions from him.

She thankfully steps back from him, her hand falling from his shoulder and she folds an arm across her chest. He watched the woman almost curl into herself, small, vulnerable… something in his mind sparked wildly as it urged him to dominate.

''Go then, Mister Spock.''

''I find now that I have voiced my need to leave, I am incapable of doing so.'' He purrs when he takes another breath, her scent once again hitting him with the force of a photon torpedo. He takes a step towards her for every one that she takes back.

''Spock, you need to leave. You will never forgive yourself for this, when this is all over.'' He hears her groan as he backs her into her desk. His taller, larger frame looming over her as she leans back on her hands, his body bending over her to cover her completely.

''I am t-trying to restrain myself Jim. You … you do not understand the compulsion that is driving me to… to take you. To mate with you.'' He rasps into her ear, his warm breath ghosting over her skin before his nose settles in the crook of her neck. He seems to suck in all the air around her and his hands come down on each side of her, trapping her.

She whimpers and he brings his body closer to her, a slow, luxurious grinding of their lower halves and his hands move ever forward towards her own. She moves back against him slightly and he snarls into the shell of her ear, his teeth barely scraping over her soft skin as he continues to grind against this intoxicating woman.

''Spock...No… wait… I want… I…'' he hears his temptress whisper in indecision, but he can smell her arousal, feel her arousal through his skin as he continues to nuzzle his way around her neck and jaw and he growls appreciatively at the fact that she is as affected as he is, more so when she winds her arms around his neck, her hands trailing through and tugging at the fine hairs at the base of his head.

''Goddammit Jim!'' he hears from the doorway and his body freezes whilst the woman in his arms gasps and pushes him away in shock.

He blinks… was he… why was he…

''Captain, I …''

''Leave you hobgoblin. Now!'' McCoy's voice rings through the room and Jim says something equally as loud and obnoxious in return to the doctor.

He does not hear the rest of their conversation as he hastily returns to his quarters, the urge to now challenge the human for the right to mate with Jim surpassing the lust that had taken over his body mere moments ago. The door swished closed behind him and he leaned back against it, his entire body shaking. He must regain control. He must obtain clarity.

He will.

He will.

Try….

Even if it had been a week since she had given herself the sternest lecture known to man regarding her new found need to jump her First Officer, to leave him alone… she still couldn't help but turn in her chair every fifteen minutes or so to ask him a question, only to realise that he wasn't there and wouldn't be there for another two and half weeks.

Every time this happened, she would sigh and feel the familiar disappointment in her gut that his absence kept filling her with and immediately after that emotion passed, she became irritated with herself for being so needy, for wanting him in the first place. Goddamn hormones. The fact that the bridge had become rather like a morgue on her shifts without Spock there to banter with, was indeed a big problem. Uhura had made it a point to not even look at her when speaking to her but at least she kept things professional. Once again Jim thanked god for small mercies.

Ever since that might where she found herself trapped by a fully grown, horny Vulcan rubbing against her, she had done her best to not think about the fact that she nearly allowed, no… almost encouraged him to cheat on his fiancée. That at that moment when his teeth and his lips brushed against her neck; she honestly didn't give a shit about anyone else in the universe except for him.

This of course made her feel like a totally shitty person.

Bones was so angry with her that even seven days later, he still shat her out from a dizzy height whenever the chance presented itself. He would go almost purple in the face, rambling on about how he knew this would happen, how he would've thought that she would have more common sense and not allow things to get so out of hand.

Jim crossed her legs in her chair, her chin in her hand as she stared out of the viewscreen in front of her. It's not like she could blame Bones or Spock for that matter for what happened that night. While she may be inundated with strange fertility hormones that make her horny, she was still thankfully able to think clearly. Spock couldn't help himself, Bones had explained. It was like flipping a switch on or off with him. She had only spotted Spock once since that night and it was right before her morning shift had started.

She had rounder the corner intending to get into the turbolift going to the bridge and when the doors had opened she had stepped through automatically, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of blue. Obviously he had just come off the night shift, he looked as normal as ever in that split second it took her to realise who it was. Then she had realised that he was alone in the damn lift. Her body had blocked the sensors and the two of them had stared at one another like a pair of hungry wolves.

She watched him sniff the air; his eyes had instantly clouded over, his body tensing and she hadn't been able to stop herself from running her eyes up and down his body, lingering on the bulge in his uniform pants that seemed to be straining against the material. She swallowed noisily and meeting his eyes half closed eyes, she had opened her mouth to say something when he took a step towards her. As quick as she could, she had stepped out of the way of the sensors and the doors swished closed.

His hand had been outstretched towards her.

Gods, it had been difficult to avoid him. If she wasn't on the bridge she was lurking in Bones' quarters until she was sure he had left for the night shift. She had even gone so far as to set a lock on her doors that they could only open with her or Bones' permission. She had effectively locked him out of her life.

She hated it.

''Captain, you look a bit stressed.'' Yeoman Rand whispered to her and Jim grunted softly in agreement.

''Here, Captain… I heard this tea is good for stress, it should help you relax a bit.''

''Yeoman, this is tea.''

''I know Captain. I made it.''

''Yeoman, why is it green?''

''Because it's peppermint tea, Captain.''

''Why, exactly are you giving me tea, when you know full well, how much I love coffee?''

'Sorry, Sir. I- I will go get you a cup of coffee.''

Arrgh, why was she taking out her frustrations on her yeoman?!

''No, wait. I'm sorry Yeoman. Perhaps I'll drink it after all.'' She grumbles out as an apology and the woman smiled, handing her the cup.

''Plus Dr McCoy has been hounding me to cut down on my coffee so I suppose, I'll start with this.''

Rand smiles encouragingly at her as Jim takes the first sip. Her nose wrinkles in disgust at the first taste. The peppermint is overwhelming but as she swallows it, she reluctantly agrees that it's not that bad. And it's green, so there was a plus. Also, god knows she was going to have to cut out coffee sooner rather than later anyway.

Next week… she holds in an internal shriek at the happy thought that she was finally, finally going to take the plunge. She had asked Bones to help her inject herself with Spock's sperm, not wanting to do it alone, she was afraid that she would somehow mess it up.

Sipping her disgusting but tolerable tea with glee, she turned in her chair and looked for him.

She bit back her sigh… again.

She had spoken with Spock in the days that she hadn't seen him. Ships business was discussed at length through emails and calls when they had a spare moment and if the topics they discussed became more personal and drawn out by the end, neither of them mentioned this. She missed him and she told him as much in different ways whenever she got the chance.

Now that she was back in her quarters, having once again gone out of her way to avoid him, she yawned as she lay down on her bed. Dragging her PADD over, she sent another message to Other-Spock. Since she had told him what was going on, he had been suspiciously quiet. He had emailed her back a few times but the conversations seemed hollow and impersonal. Why was he pulling back from her?

Was every Spock in this universe destined to leave her frustrated?

Deciding that it would be best to try and get some sleep for the night, she made her way to the bathroom and after getting out the shower; she heard movement from the room next door. Her body immediately stiffened as she heard him move about in his room. She stepped over to the door leading to his quarters and putting her hand on it, she tried to make out what he was doing.

When all she heard was a series of grunts, moans and what suspiciously sounded like a three lettered muffled word leave his mouth, she quickly backed away from the door. Why was he in his room? Was he… was he jerking off in there?

Heat had pooled between her legs the moment she realised what he was doing and she whimpered when she walked backwards slowly out of the bathroom. She heard a crash come from his room and she bolted to her bed. Setting her locks again.

Oh, god please let this end soon.

Spock was displeased with his life.

Did she not in fact realise that he could smell her – everywhere. Everywhere on this ship. All along the corridors, down the passages, on the bridge, in the bathroom… even inside his own quarters he could still smell her. He had taken to masturbating frequently and with alarming ferocity on a daily basis since that night he had nearly disgraced himself.

Did she not realise that even if they were separated, when she removed herself from the bathroom after her showers, that her scent wafted from her, underneath and through the holes in the door straight through to his room and consequently straight into his body settling heavily in his penis.

He had listened to her shower, listened to her hum while she cleaned herself and the images flooding his mind, the pure unadulterated lust that kept hitting him in the back of the head each time he took a breath was beginning to become painful.

Daily, he fought the urge to flee from whatever room he was in, due to the fact that his Captain had been in the room at some point. Her pheromones seemed to linger on every object that she had touched or sat on. The bridge was the worst for this. He completed each and every night shift with an erection. As he sat in the Captains' chair, the one she would logically sit in throughout the day, the taste of her was a constant presence that surrounded him and drove him to the point of madness.

He could still remember the way her skin had tasted from the brief moment his lips had touched her skin, the way she felt beneath him as he rutted against her against that table. The way her hair felt brushing against his forehead. Meditation was surprisingly helpful, when he was not bombarded with images of his Captain in the throes of sexual intercourse.

He should be in his labs at this moment in time. Sexual frustration was not an acceptable excuse for neglecting his duties.

He looked at the glass that had shattered when he had knocked it over with his elbow. He had been in the middle of pleasuring himself when her scent suddenly became stronger and he realised that she was in fact on the other side of his door. He gasped her name out as he came; having no control over how arousing he found it that she was listening to him. When he smelled her arousal along with her pheromones he shot up from his bed and ran across to the door, his only focus was getting to her. Until his elbow had knocked the glass over.

He heard her rooms being locked and he seated himself shakily down on the ground, leaning his head back against the door. He folded his sensitive hands together and contemplated his options. Logically, no… logic had no place here. He closed his eyes. He could utilise the fact that he was currently in a relationship to his advantage. He could have sexual relations with Nyota on a daily basis to try and quell this raging compulsion to mate, however he was concerned that he would somehow say the Captain's name upon reaching orgasm and he shuddered to think of the consequences that action would bring about.

Also, upon further reflection, it was horrendous of him to even be thinking about having sexual intercourse with Nyota when he could not clearly deny that all he wanted at this moment was to be able to bury himself inside of his Captain until he was assured of the fact that she was pregnant. Whether that would take days or weeks was inconsequential to him, as long as it derived the outcome he desired.

Secondly, he was aware that while this compulsion lasted, he could not be blamed for his actions if he was placed in close proximity to her. Therefore, when he was of sound mind, he did in fact take the necessary steps to avoid her as much as she was avoiding him. When this was all over, he would go back to his relationship with Nyota with a clear mind.

The turbolift incident was one situation that he wished to never repeat. She had been within his reach. He would have lifted her against the wall, wrapped her legs around his waist and he would have inserted himself inside of her within seven minutes and twenty seconds of removing her underwear and unzipping his trousers.

With a frustrated grunt, he made his way back to his bedside table, cleaning his earlier emissions from his body, his shirtless state only proving how far he had fallen in his own mind. Absolutely disgraceful he chided himself. As he threw the tissues away into the waste receptacle he briefly considered taking a shower to cleanse himself but the fact that his captain had been in there, aroused and naked, made him reluctant to enter the room. He was after all, three times stronger than humans and certainly capable of tearing a door off its hinges to get to her if her were so inclined or affected.

He dressed himself and sat down at his desk. He needed guidance. He entertained the thought of contacting is counterpart. He vetoed it immediately. He could not discuss this with him.

''Computer – open channel to New Vulcan. Cha' Sarek.''

''Working.''

He waited impatiently.

''My son. Two calls this month. I am surprised.''

''Father. Apologies for the lateness of the hour. I need guidance.''

''I am honoured you called then Spock.''

He explains everything. Not omitting anything from his tale. From his relationship with Nyota, to his attraction to his Captain, to the sudden development of his recent behaviour.

''Father – is there some way to combat this… this overwhelming feeling I have to possess, to claim. I cannot allow it to control me any longer.'' He half pleads and his father's expression seems to be amused.

''It is hard, is it not?''

Spock lets out an undignified snort at the word 'hard'.

''Forgive me father – I do not know where that came from.''

''It is of no consequence. While I have always urged you to embrace logic and put aside emotions, as it our way, under these circumstances however, I see no just cause to scold you for your lack of control.''

''As for your question, Spock. No, I apologise. This is unfortunately what it will feel like when you experience your Time – only to a lesser degree. There is no way to escape this but to persevere. Naturally, if you were able to follow through with your urges, you would find them pleasant and easily managed. However, since you and your captain will not be engaging in sexual intercourse, you have in fact chosen a difficult path to walk. I have of course experienced the same compulsions which you are now currently faced with, when she who was my wife and I were trying to conceive you.''

''Father, I have absolutely no interest in hearing about mothers and yours sexual habits.'' He snaps and his father leans back in his chair, his eyes shining with laughter.

''Very well, my son. I shall simply say one thing. If the worst should come to pass… Forgive yourself, Spock and move forward.''

Spock stared at this man who once told him that love was illogical, that feelings and desires were shameful. He was still struggling to accept this new, honest and candid relationship with his father.

''Thank you. Live long and prosper father.''

''Live long and prosper, my son. ''

He switched his terminal off and heading out of his quarters. If there was no stopping it, no stopping this urge, this incessant need for his Captain, he would simply cease fighting against the notion and accept it. He would of course not go in search of her, but if anything should happen…

Kaidith.