Now that McCoy had been satiated, he felt his animalistic anger subsiding. He looked down at the woman lying next to his lower half, saw that she was catching her breath, not an unusual activity for her after what she'd just done, but he worried he had been too violent with her, pushed her too hard. He caressed the top of her head and she glanced up at him, a look of love in her green eyes.

"Hey," he said softly.

He could get lost in those eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, making her normally olive skin look even darker. He brushed his finger over the freckles that scattered along her nose and cheeks. Because of her background, Sabine was a mix of features that shouldn't have worked so well together but somehow did. Her copper hair color, green eyes, and freckles spoke to the European side of her family, but her darker skin color, curliness of her hair, and fullness of her lips came from the African side. She was striking, in a way McCoy had never noticed in another terran. He wondered how he had been so oblivious to her beauty before that first night in the clinic.

"Hey yourself," she replied, shifting herself upwards so that their faces aligned. They rolled to their sides, facing one another.

"Do you feel better?" she asked him, reaching out and brushing his hair away from his forehead.

"I could – and should – ask you the same thing. You feelin' alright? I wasn't too hard on ya?"

"Mmmm, I feel good. I liked it. I have not seen that side of you before."

"Maybe that's for the best," he murmured, taking her chin in his hand and kissing her unhurriedly.

"I do not know about that," she responded after the kiss ended. "I might enjoy a little more aggression in the bedroom." She smiled wickedly at him.

He moved closer to her and pushed her shoulder down so that she was horizontal on the mattress then straddled her, grabbing her hands as she reached for him. He pinned each hand down at her side.

"So you like it a little rough?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.

"Sometimes," she replied, arching her back in an effort to bring them closer together. He teased her, moving just out of range and she pouted at him.

"I can give you rough," he replied, bending down to take one of her already pebbled nipples in his mouth. After sucking on it a moment, and hearing her contented sigh, he bit down – not too hard, but enough to elicit a cry from her. He raised his head to hers and kissed her callously, fusing his mouth to hers and refusing to let her catch her breath. She arched towards him again, her breasts against his chest. He let go of her hands and she wound them around his back. Through the gloves, he could feel her digging her nails into him. She bit his shoulder once he finally yielded her mouth.

They had been intimate on numerous occasions but tonight was different. He'd been coarse with her, practically used her like a whore in a brothel, and she'd enjoyed it. Now they were at it again, tangling with one another somewhere between pleasure and pain. He didn't want to hurt her but she welcomed every bite, slap, and tight grasp he made. Their bodies pushed against one another repeatedly and the glint in her eyes freed something in him. He wanted her. More than he'd ever wanted anything. He knew he couldn't have her – she would never agree to it and even if she did, he didn't think he was ready for a full telepathic intrusion. But what if he could make her come? Would she let him be the one to draw out her sighs of complete pleasure? Surely the telepathic assault wouldn't be as cumbersome if she was prepared when she climaxed. Not to mention the telepathy wouldn't be as strong if they didn't engage in penetrative sex. His break-time readings had told him as much, though he was still unsure how well her trainings were going and if she fit the standards for other telepaths. The only way to know for sure was to ask. His fingers were already inside her and she was twisting against him, her low moans music to his ears.

"I wanna make you come," he whispered against her ear, nipping her earlobe.

"We should not," she breathed. He could hear the waver in her voice.

"Please," he implored, his mouth on her neck, sucking the tender muscles just above her clavicle.

"It will hurt. I cannot block everything," she panted, again curving into him as he stroked her with two fingers from inside.

"It's worth it. Let me pleasure you to completion," he said, his voice low and sensual. He continued to thrust into her with his fingers, going deeper in a rhythmic motion, feeling for that bump on her inner wall that would send her into convulsions.

She cried against him, her mouth on his shoulder.

"Leo," she whimpered as his thumb waged a fresh attack on her swollen clitoris. He was still alternating between fingering her and rubbing her bud and she knew he wouldn't push her to orgasm until she gave her permission. But impatience was building on both sides.

"It will not be easy, the aftermath," she forced out, trying to give him one more chance to change his mind. "Even sharing just thoughts and feelings can be excruciating." It took everything in her to get the sentences out. All she wanted was to surrender to him.

"Doesn't matter," he rumbled, pulling his mouth away from her breast and meeting her stare with his hazel eyes. "I'll suffer a little pain for you."

"Are you sure?" she asked and he knew he had won what he wanted.

"God, yes," he replied, taking her nipple back into his mouth and suckling fervently.

"Then do it," she said, her mind too besotted with desire and craving to think coherently about the risk they were about to take. She knew she'd have to block their memories from one another and she felt confident she could do that. They would feel each other's emotions, hear each other's thoughts. She knew what that felt like, how disconcerting it would be. Caught up in the throes of passion, she hadn't explained to Leo exactly how devastating it could feel. But even if she did, he'd insist he could handle it. They were both single-minded in their goal. The impending pain she wrote off as a minor payment for the bliss she was about to experience. She had wanted this for so long – since their first date, she had imagined what it would be like for him to make her climax.

McCoy dipped his head down, trailed his mouth along her smooth stomach. He was going to draw this out. He withdrew his fingers and she grabbed his hand in hers, brought his two fingers to her lips and sucked them sweetly as he looked on in awe.

"Holy Hell," he mumbled, and for a split second, he considered taking her right then and there but that wasn't what she'd agreed to and he knew it. Instead he pulled his hand away once she had finished and grabbed her waist. He lowered his head to kiss and nip her inner thighs, first the right, then the left. McCoy moved closer to her center, then away, back to her thighs, teasing her and drawing a soft curse from her lips. But he wanted Sabine too much to play for long. He rested her toned legs over his shoulders and she crossed them behind his back. He then began to kiss and lick her clit, sucking gently as she moved against him, a string of incomprehensible sounds tumbling out of her. When he finally thrust his tongue inside her, she cried his name out and pushed herself against his mouth, writhing in ecstasy. She was so close, he could feel it. He returned to sucking her clit and shoved his index and middle fingers deep inside her, massaging her walls. He found the spot and stroked it.

"Leo," she mewled. "J'arrive!"

He didn't understand the words but he knew what she was saying. He could feel it, could feel her body trembling, her cunt clench and spasm around his fingers. He had finally done it; he'd made her come.

His pleasure was short lived.

It hurt, oh God, it hurt so much trying to block memories while simultaneously being flooded with his thoughts and emotions. Sabine was dizzy with pain and forgot to keep breathing because she was so distracted by the waves of aching. So many emotions – so much love, but also hurt and lingering anger over her brush with death; then there was confusion and fear as her emotions flooded him. His thoughts were like drums in her head. He was shocked that they were both experiencing so many of each other's feelings. Leo recoiled from her and she finally took a deep breath, filling her lungs with precious oxygen. Her vision clouded as the pain swept through her and then she regained her sight. The intensity subsided enough for her to look over at Leo.

He looked as miserable as she felt. How had she forgotten this? Maybe because it had been years since she and Dinesh had been here, uncertain teenagers clinging to one another in pain and bewilderment after their first time. But there had been the one-night stand with John – more recent – just after Dinesh died. That was when she had realized it would be like this with every partner – it hadn't just been a result of Dinesh being telepathic as well. No, she would take over anyone after climax and it wasn't until Cass had started working with her that she'd learned she could control it if she worked hard enough.

McCoy was clutching his head, shaking it back and forth.

"Stop thinking," he mumbled. "It's too much."

"I do not think I can block my thoughts," she responded. "It is hard enough to block everything else." But she tried anyway in an effort to ease his pain. She had been through this before; he had not. She needed to be his guide and do what she could to soften the blows.

The pain of holding so much back felt like white hot pokers in her brain and she sobbed quietly.

"Your nose," he said in a penitent voice. "It's bleeding." He grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and handed it to her.

"I know," she replied shakily. "Happens when I am overwhelmed."

She stuffed the tissue in her nose, knowing the blood was flowing thick and fast. She could feel the headache behind her eyes, throbbing in beat with the blood rushing through her. She held out her hand wordlessly for more tissues and he handed the box to her.

"You're blocking your thoughts," he observed, abashed, aware of the fact that he could no longer hear her in his head. She'd been thinking in her own language and the fact that he could understand it had created pandemonium in his brain; he'd been trying to sort through her thoughts and his at the same time – determine which thoughts belonged to whom – and it had been harrowing. But now she was bleeding because she'd taken on too much for him. He could feel the pain she was putting herself in to protect him.

"Sabine, stop," he pleaded, reaching out to touch her face. "You don't have to block the thoughts. I can do this."

"It… is… fine," she said sluggishly through the torment. "I want… to help."

"Don't," he beseeched. He should have never asked her to stop thinking.

Sabine threw her feet over the side of the bed and stood up, wobbling for a moment before trusting herself to walk. She went to the bathroom to clean her face in the sink, tasting the iron from the blood trickling down to her lip. After, she threw her head forward and pinched her nose shut, hoping to stop the bleeding. And the entire damn time, his thoughts and feelings rolled around inside her, crowding her own emotions and ideas to the periphery. God, she was so tired. It was the drug. Leo had given her something to help her sleep. Only now, she needed to keep herself awake till the connection faded. She banged the sink counter with her fists in impatience and exasperation. In her pique, she didn't hear Leo come into the bathroom, only felt his arms encircle her as her vision was once more obscured, this time by tears of frustration.

"Stop holding back your thoughts," he murmured. "Feeling your pain is worse than hearing you inside my head."

McCoy hadn't realized this was what he'd get when she orgasmed – he had thought it would bring them closer together; he'd be able to show her how much he loved her. He didn't know you couldn't pick and choose emotions when the floodgates broke. She wept in his arms and finally conceded, letting her thoughts slip through to him because the burning ache was too much.

She worried that she'd be sick. That delicious, if awkward, dinner now roiled and pitched in her stomach. Sabine slid down to the floor, curled up against the bathroom cabinet and McCoy sank down with her, putting his arm around her and holding her tight. The cold tiles felt good against her legs and she let him stroke her hair absentmindedly. It soothed her and he focused himself on the task, willing to do whatever necessary to calm and please her. Sabine knew he was feeling pressure in his head, his own mind being overrun by hers and she leaned into him, grabbed his hand and interlaced fingers, feeling how the contact comforted him.

She remembered how this had gone with Dinesh all those years ago – they had done it together. That was the key. They both needed to find peace for the agony to abate. Sabine practiced taking deep breaths, encouraged Leo to do the same. The calmer they were, the less it would hurt. They sat in silence on the bathroom floor, breathing in and out slowly in rhythm with one another, hands intertwined. She felt herself grow more placid, felt his relief as her grief lessened in his head.

An hour later, the thoughts had dissipated. They could still feel some of each other's emotions but those too were fading and the pain had decreased substantially. Sabine could hardly keep her eyes open because whatever Leo had given her, it was effective. He picked her up and carried her to her bed, laying her down gently and covering her. He moved to leave and she grabbed his arm.

"Stay," she said groggily, pulling him feebly to her. He complied but she could feel his apprehension. She responded by feeding him assurance through the connection. She wanted to be as close to him as she could. Sabine rested her head against his chest and let his arms circle around her waist. She could feel his lingering headache and she fed him tranquility through their weakening connection.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too. Go to sleep, darlin'," he murmured softly and she did because the drug had finally forced her into unconsciousness. He stroked her hair as she slept and in the silence of the room, alone with his own thoughts, he contemplated what they'd done and what he had learned through the connection they'd shared.