A/N: Disclaimer is in the first chapter. Other than Vulcan words, letters in italics represent people's inner thoughts or give emphasis. And of course there is I'Chaya and his peculiar way of thinking... I am not sure if there is a canon here, so I improvised a little.
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Chapter 7: The Control Crack'd
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Shi'Kahr, 2164
The scroll T'Rama was studying in her home office had been found in remarkably good condition. It was also pre-Surakian, a fact that made the delicate artifact rare and therefore very precious.
Fortunately, she had managed to receive a special permit to study it at home. Of course the fact that she was the one to discover it had helped her get that opportunity.
Before her, the document had already been studied by a paleographer. And now it was her turn to scan it for any evidence of spores and pollen. For that reason, she had put on a mask and gloves before carefully removing it from its airtight briefcase.
On her right, the tricorder was waiting patiently. T'Rama's fingers strolled over the modern piece of equipment, before deciding for a few minutes to ignore it; when compared to the soft scroll the tricorder seemed stiff and unpleasantly cold. The fact was, it was rare to have a chance to sit in the comfort and privacy of her office, holding a well-preserved, warm piece of history in her hands, something that wasn't made of stone, crystalline metamorphic rock or metal.
Her fingers tenderly caressed the fragile document; a record of an agricultural community's import and export products over the course of a year.
She moved her mask a little and inhaled deeply, holding her breath for a few seconds. That old and yet so-familiar scent was a piece of her people's history and one of her work's most cherished moments; when the past met the present and was, with great care, preserved for the future. It also brought to her a beloved childhood memory. Her father had taken her for the first time to the Science Academy's Paper Books department. She was then five years old and wide-eyed with wonder.
Absorbed in her musings, she took another deep breath, savoring the scent. At this moment there were few things on the planet strong enough to distract her. It would take a quake, a flood, or a super volcano's eruption to move her from her seat.
Or the sudden sound of porcelain breaking into many small pieces… from her kitchen.
Skon. Now what's happened? she wondered. Not only he had broken something, but he was keeping their bond in a low level on purpose, despite the fact that he was unable to completely hide his frustration from her.
Realizing she had to go and check on him, T'Rama inwardly sighed.
Her adun had a three-week leave of absence from his work for 'personal reasons,' a euphemism for his approaching Time. For the next three weeks no other person would enter their home, including T'Enia and T'Nooun. It would be just them and I'Chaya.
Under normal circumstances the three-week period covered all the necessary time before and after the Fever. Upon his return to work, Skon would have recovered completely.
Today was the first day he'd stayed home. And, as always, when Skon stayed at home he insisted on cooking dinner.
At first T'Rama objected, but Skon was slowly becoming too distracted or nervous to read anything or simply sit still. He always spent the first days meditating, doing household chores or working in the garden. And they mated, at an increasing rate. That calmed him, above anything else.
The best solution while Skon stayed at home, waiting for the Fever, was to keep him constantly busy. And T'Rama, who estimated that he was approximately two to three days before plak'tow, did just that.
However the sound of what probably was a plate breaking and Skon's underlying anger were things she couldn't ignore.
With extreme reluctance, T'Rama rose from her chair. Through their marital bond, Skon's restlessness and the approaching fever was affecting her too. Her control was also becoming weaker.
Only she wasn't alone inside the room. I'Chaya, who all this time had been lying asleep under the desk, awoke and pricked up his ears at the breaking sound.
"Woof!"
"Stay here," T'Rama ordered, unshielding the airtight briefcase.
"Uuugrrrrr…" The bulky sehlat let out a growl of protest and rose, waving its small tail; it was a comical contradiction compared with his body's massive size.
!According to I'Chaya "stay here" isn't a good idea I'Chaya is THE GUARDIAN maybe he should go to the kitchen before T'Rama to see if anything is wrong it could be burglars intruders a wild predator perhaps another sehlat I'Chaya spotted a cute female in the area not two days ago–!
"No!" T'Rama said aloud to cut off the sehlat's mental flood. "I can handle one amorous male, not two at the same time. Stay here. You know how he is these days. And I don't want any fights, like the last Τime."
"Umpfff!" I'Chaya let out a sound of disdain and shook his head, a comment about Skon's febrile temper. Then he lay down, to resume his never-enough sleep, but not before sending another mental complaint to T'Rama.
…Skon is I'Chaya's best friend but this irregular behaviour is truly an annoyance it is as if he is looking for a reason to start a fightttttzzzzz...
Carefully, T'Rama placed the precious scroll inside its briefcase, removed her mask and gloves and left the office.
From the corridor, she heard Skon uttering a curse. At this time he always had difficulty controlling his temper. For the next two or three days at this time in a mating cycle, Skon would be restless and his anger would be troublesome.
Knowing that Skon felt uncomfortable with what was about to happen – his utter loss of control – T'Rama tried to keep their behaviour and activities as close as possible to normal. She took a deep breath, steeled herself with patience and walked into the kitchen.
She found her bondmate throwing the remains of a plate in the recycler. Standing at the door, she noticed how Skon, realizing her presence, clenched his fists to stop his hands from trembling before turning to face her.
"A small accident," he said quickly, in a defensive tone. "Your presence is not necessary. I can prepare dinner myself."
T'Rama didn't need the bond to sense his frustration; she could almost smell it in the surrounding air. Trying to improve his mood, she sent Skon a warm feeling of affection and changed the subject.
"So you object to my staying in our kitchen and enjoying my adun's looks while he prepares our evening nourishment?" she purred in a suggestive tone.
Skon caught her meaningful look which meant only one thing. After dinner, sweet dessert would follow… in her bedchamber. Heat surrounded him. After so many Times T'Rama always knew how to calm him during this period of… anxiety.
He observed closely her beloved face… only to see how she had changed. Little changes, infinitesimal ones, had made their appearance during the last three years. Very faint wrinkles had formed under T'Rama's eyes and a thin line had appeared across her forehead.
He sighed.
Far too many Times indeed…
"I can still control," he insisted.
She truly admired him, at those times. Taking on a fight he had no hopes of winning, he still refused to give up. Her adun was a brave man.
"I know," she assured him with affection.
Sensing T'Rama's confidence, Skon lowered his head. He didn't deserve that confidence, that unconditional trust. Especially since he was thinking of the passing time. Shame filled him – he had to share his thoughts with his adun'a. It wasn't proper to keep things from she who had saved his life over and over throughout the years.
"I broke the plate because I became distracted… thinking…" He looked at her, uncertain for a moment. "T'Rama, I wish for us to talk."
"Certainly. Shall we sit?"
The couple took their places at the kitchen table. Skon was the first to speak. And as always, small talk was illogical.
"During the course of our marriage we have experienced nine Times together. This will be my tenth. Yet so far, and despite the fact that we are both fertile, and despite all our ... intermediate… efforts, we haven't produced a child."
Her breath was caught in her throat. This was it. The moment she had dreaded during all those years, had finally come.
It was there, now. Staring her in the face. How ugly this moment might be.
Be brave, she said to herself, taking a slow, controlled breath.
"That is true," T'Rama nodded calmly, maintaining her stoic composure. She could endure this. She would endure this. It would be better for Skon…
"I believe," he continued, "that if this Time we don't produce a child, we should consider alternatives."
"I agree," she replied, losing the ground under her feet. "And I want you to know that… I have no objections, Skon. I shall release you, if that is your wish."
He tilted his head, clearly confused. "What?"
"I… agree."
"You agree with what?"
"With whatever you propose. If you wish to be free–"
"WHAT?" Dark fury blazed in his eyes as he sprang from his chair, knocking it down.
T'Rama too stood up quickly, shocked by his reaction. "Skon, I–"
"You want a divorce?!" he asked as if not believing his own words.
"You said we should consider alternatives–"
"I meant alternative options, NOT alternative bondmates! I meant we should consider adoption!"
The revelation was too much for T'Rama; she almost stopped breathing. "Adoption? But the S'chn T'gai bloodline has never broken in nearly three thousand years!"
"Damn the blood-line, damn the child and damn you! Do you have such little faith in me?"
"Skon, I–"
"I wouldn't divorce you – not for all the children of Vulcan!" he shouted, and T'Rama felt a sharp pain shot through her.
Later, during her meditation, examining that scene over and over again, she realised this was the moment she'd broken Skon's heart.
However, the pain lasted only for a moment. Skon's expression suddenly changed. He stared at her while a single thought crossed his mind.
A thought that darkened his eyes and hardened his face.
"Since when have you wanted to dissolve our bond?" he asked in a voice that chilled her entire being.
That was when T'Rama realised her biggest fear was for nothing. And that, since Skon was at the throes of his Time, she had just made a once-in-a-lifetime mistake.
She swallowed hard before trying to explain her rationale calmly and quickly. "I do not wish to dissolve our bond. I thought you–"
But Skon's control, feeble as it was, shattered. Instead of waiting for an answer, he grabbed her arms and pinned her to the wall.
"Is there another?" he hissed in her ear through gritted teeth.
T'Rama was shaken by his unprecedented hostility. The worst he had ever done was to yell at I'Chaya. "Skon, you are hurting me!"
"I am asking you! Is there another?"
Being out of control, Skon grabbed the collar of her robe and tore the fabric apart, revealing her body. He grabbed T'Rama's waist and started sniffing her chest. If she had been with another male, the scent would betray him.
"What are you doing?" T'Rama protested as Skon parted her long robe, tore her underwear and began sniffing between her legs. "Skon, think! You know there is no one!"
His sense of smell was always heightened during those days. Yet, the only scent he detected on T'Rama's body was his own.
Breathing heavily, Skon rose, grabbed her by the arms and shook her.
"Were you planning to issue the kal'i'fee? Who would defend you? WHO?"
Her mind was working frantically. She had to make amends. Skon was half out of his mind and sometimes emotional distress was known to trigger the Fever earlier than was normal.
T'Rama straightened her shoulders and threw Skon a neutral look; her voice came out completely controlled, as if they were having an everyday conversation about what to prepare for dinner.
"Skon. Adun. You need to calm yourself. Let us go to your bedroom. Once we mate–"
Her voice reached Skon's ears, but not his mind. His grip on her arms tightened and T'Rama gasped. Not from the pain, but from the fathomless anger in his mind.
He gave her a sinister look. "Or perhaps there's another way to find who's hiding in your thoughts…" he seethed. His hand crawled across her face until it found her psi-points.
Realizing his intentions, T'Rama saw green. Like every other Vulcan, she was repulsed even by the idea of an unauthorised mind-meld and her reaction was instinctive. She pushed Skon back and slapped him hard across the face.
And froze where she stood.
The last time she had hit another living creature, she'd been under five years of age. She had thrown a stone at a lizard to observe how the reptile would accelerate and avoid it. Her childish thoughtlessness had cost T'Ama an eye.
Oddly enough, the slap, her second-ever act of aggression, worked. It shook Skon enough to bring him out of his feverish state of mind.
Shock was written all over his face and, with a pang of panic, he wondered what he was doing. Was he actually going to violate the mind of she who was half his heart? Half his soul? Over what? A misunderstanding?
But… what if it was not? She said that she had no objections leaving him…
For how long had she felt this? And how did she manage to hide these ideas from him? And since she managed to hide these thoughts… what else did she hide?
Confused and slightly disoriented, Skon took a trembling step backward. And then another. He was repelled by what went on inside his head, but he felt more repulsed by what he had done.
A small sane voice inside his head told him that his thoughts or T'Rama's didn't matter. What mattered were his actions. His violent, uncontrolled actions.
His pre-Reform actions.
So this was what it always came to. Everything his ancestors had renounced, but always came back to haunt every Vulcan male. The horrors he was capable of. Within the next days, hours… his biggest fear, the burning Fever, was approaching. He could feel it in his veins…
Was this who he really was underneath his control? And how much more violent – and dangerous – would he become?
Disgusted by his emotional reaction, caused by the feverish Need, he looked at T'Rama. The pain in his eyes mirrored hers.
Skon lowered his head, unable to face his adun'a for another second. He turned and with staggering steps left the kitchen. He knew he had to leave. He had to get away from his bondmate before causing her real damage.
Unable to sense his intentions, and alarmed from his silence, both from within and outside their bond, T'Rama followed him.
"Skon, where are you going?" she asked, barely managing to maintain control herself.
He could not trust his own voice. Skon simply shook his head. He walked to the living room and headed towards the exit door.
"Skon," T'Rama pleaded in a voice that almost trembled, "please forgive me. Adun, speak to me, do not shut me out. Where are you going?"
"…to the Forge," he muttered, almost to himself.
"What?!" T'Rama felt a terror she had never known before.
As if to clear his vision, Skon shook his head again. "I need some time alone," he said, keeping his eyes on the floor.
"Now is not that time! When the Fever is upon you!" She swallowed hard and stepped in front of him. Only that didn't stop Skon's pace. T'Rama was forced to walk backwards. "I ask forgiveness… Please ashayam, please do not leave, it's dangerous," she pleaded, frantically.
"It is I who should seek forgiveness. What I did is… unthinkable. I– I… cannot think… I don't know. I don't know," he mumbled, then voiced his biggest fear. "I need to leave; I'll hurt you should I stay."
"You will not! Skon, be logical. You have never hurt me in any way–"
"Yes, but I was never under the illusion that you wanted to leave me…" He gave her a hesitant look. For a moment there he was again, that little boy, shy and unsure. Only now he wasn't asking for a kiss, but for his life. "It… is an illusion, isn't it, T'Rama?"
This time it was her heart that broke. "Of course it is! I never thought of leaving you! Never! Forgive me, please forgive me. It was a misunderstanding!"
"There is nothing to forgive. I have to go because… I'm afraid to stay."
"You will not hurt me– I'm certain!"
"Yes, well I'm not. And I can not risk… you. I'm leaving."
"No! No!" T'Rama yelled furiously and stood in front of him, blocking his way.
T'Rama's face was frozen, her hands stretched out to stop him, her nostrils flared, her gaze the most determined he'd ever seen.
She is frightened, he realized observing her expressive face, sensing her agony.
Her robe was torn. He had done it. He was the one who had ripped the fabric apart. What else was he capable of ripping apart?
"There is a reason it's called Fever, T'Rama," he said, unable to hide his bitterness. "How many times have I been sane during the Time? Do I ever speak? Do I even recognize you? Even you… who I cherish, with all my being."
He took a breath, straightened his back, one last attempt to remedy his injured dignity, and gave her a solemn look. His effort was successful; his voice came out cool and collected. "We shall meet at the caves. The day after tomorrow," he said, bowing his head slightly. "Till then."
Then with steady steps, he went past her and stepped out of the front door.
"Skon!" she turned, calling to him desperately.
But he had already left.
Still in shock, struggling for control, T'Rama tried to comprehend what had just happened.
Skon. Skon had left. He was in danger. Vulnerable. Her mind was working frantically to form a plan.
Skon. She had to secure his safety.
She ran back to the hallway. "I'Chaya! Come here!"
A bleary-eyed sehlat appeared at the office's door, looking puzzled at her ripped clothes.
"Woof?" ?What has happened? ?Where is Skon?
"Come with me!" T'Rama ordered and fled to the kitchen with I'Chaya following her lead.
She took a bottle of water from the cooler and poured it in a flask. Then with hasty moves, she ripped a long piece from her torn robe and tied the flask around I'Chaya's neck.
"Follow Skon," she said with a trembling voice that I'Chaya had never heard from her before.
The sehlat shook his head to dismiss sleep and sniffed the surrounding air. He could hear the fear in T'Rama's voice; he could smell it on her.
!Smell of fear my friend is afraid!
"I'Chaya! Do you hear me? Skon! Don't let him out of your sight! Watch him! Make sure he goes to the caves! Our caves! You know our caves – make sure Skon gets there alive. Now go! Go! Go with Skon!"
That was when I'Chaya realised what T'Rama asked from him. She wanted I'Chaya to stop her fear. He could do that.
"Wuff!" he barked reassuringly and fled through the door, following Skon's strong scent.
T'Rama ran after them, but realised that following Skon would only make matters worse between them… if that was even possible. And unless she prepared, following them was pointless, for she would have to return here for supplies. So, she stood at the gateway. And there she remained, watching Skon and I'Chaya walking off into the distance until both were lost to view.
One point four hours passed before T'Rama realised it was illogical to stand in the dark and look at the mountain scenery. The sun had long set when her weak steps led her back into their home.
Numb and uncertain, she retreated to her bedroom for a desperately needed meditation. After five hours, she rose. She was thankful that her hands had stopped shaking.
Trying to keep a clear mind, she prepared, as quickly as she could, two bags with the necessary supplies – things they always needed during a Time. Water, food. Clothes and underwear. Towels. Blankets, for the bed was ancient and made of stone. Cleansing items. Two communicators, in case they might need to contact someone.
Just in case.
The sun hadn't come up yet, when T'Rama went into her hovercar and left for the caves.
Perhaps Skon had gone there earlier to find her. Perhaps they might talk.
.
.
Two days later, T'Rama sat in the middle of their cave. The same cave where she and Skon had spent so many Times together. The cave in which they had tried so many Times to fulfill their only unfulfilled dream.
The rocky formation was quite complex but they always used the same cavern, an unspoken agreement between them. It was the first room to the right after the entrance, the same cave where her adun was born. Feverish or not, Skon would know by instinct where to find her.
Outside, the bright sun was setting for the third time since she'd last seen her adun. Being alone in the cave, T'Rama could smell the dark as it surrounded both her body and her soul.
Sitting naked on the stone bed, she wrapped her arms around her knees, a million thoughts crossing her mind.
How her life was as a little girl, before her bonding. Her family's clan was of considerably lower social status than Skon's. Not even in her parents' wildest dreams would they ever have imagined their daughter joining the S'chn T'gai clan.
T'Rama could still recall the day when she was seven years old and her father returned home looking puzzled and thoughtful. He went to the kitchen where his bondmate had been preparing dinner and called for their daughter to join them.
When she arrived, her father did something he hadn't done since T'Rama was three. He took her in his arms and sat down on a kitchen chair, caressing her hair.
And the questions began.
Did she know a boy named Skon? T'Rama shook her head. She had never heard that name.
Could he be another student in her school? An acquaintance she met in a field trip? Someone her friends or classmates knew? No, no, no. The little girl was certain – she had never met or heard of a boy named Skon.
Yet, her father insisted. Perhaps a man named Solkar? A woman named T'Yann? No, the little girl had replied. She had never met or heard either of them.
Her answers left her father more thoughtful that before. T'Rama could sense he was confused.
Then he announced to his bondmate and daughter that S'chn T'gai Solkar – Solkar of Vulcan himself from Surak's clan – had come into his small office and asked if he, his bondmate, T'Yann and their son, Skon could visit their house. Along with a healer. Right after Skon's kahs'wan.
This, in the Vulcan way, meant that Solkar of Vulcan asked for his daughter's hand on behalf of his son.
It was odd, considering that the two children had obviously never met and the two men knew each other only through their work. Only their occupations were related the least. Her father was a simple technician who did maintenance repairs in the Science Academy facilities. And every diplomat in their galaxy's quadrant knew who Solkar of Vulcan was.
Her father's pleasure was obvious when he informed her that an appointment had been arranged in two days. Would it be a success? Would the healer confirm the compatibility between her mind and Skon's? Would his family agree? Would Skon? Would she?
Over the next two days, until the S'chn T'gai visit, T'Rama could sense her parents' anxiety over their bond. As for her, she couldn't care less. The rare Paleoethnobotany paper book she had discovered in the public library was, in a word, fascinating.
When that day came, her mother had spent three point seven hours dressing T'Rama's hair, trying one hair style after another, until finally decided how to arrange her long braids. How illogical those three point seven hours seemed back then. Of course, she had never said that to her mother. That would have been improper.
How things had changed now, so many years later… How she wanted today to be in her mother's place, arranging her small daughter's hair, even if it took three, ten or twenty-three hours. That tiny baby girl she had lost twelve years ago often returned to her thoughts.
Quite often she allowed Skon to spend the night in her bedchamber, so that she wouldn't be alone during those painful hours.
She wasn't mourning for the other two babies – not any more. But she had felt that little girl. For three weeks, four hours, nine minutes and eleven seconds they had shared consciousness. Then she entered into that healing trance… She had lost too much blood.
A single tear rolled down T'Rama's cheek – the first tear she ever shed in her entire life. And once that first tear escaped from her eyes, it was followed by another… and another… and another…
As her bondmate wandered somewhere in the wild desert, succumbing to the feverish madness, one by one each wall around T'Rama's controls also began to collapse. The first tear bought a sob and then another…
Desperate, she hid her face between her knees, hopeless and inconsolable. For the first time in her life, T'Rama experienced crying.
Why did she have to lose her daughter? Why? She would have been a good mother…
And Skon… Where was he? Why wasn't he coming? She kept their bond wide open, as her mother had advised her so many years ago, calling him to her, confirming her devotion, her eternal faith, urging him to reach her quickly and sate his burning Need. Yet Skon hadn't arrived yet…
And she could feel him burning, slipping into madness; his Need increasing with each passing minute. The Fever had progressed slowly on the first day, then faster on the second. Now, at the evening of the second day it was accelerating rapidly.
Her beloved adun was quickly slipping into plak'tow. It wouldn't be long now…
A low, mournful cry came out of her mouth; a sound strange and unfamiliar. And to make matters worse, that sound – proof of her weakness and loss of control – echoed inside the large cave and returned back to her, making her feel even more unworthy and isolated.
At that very moment, when her soul was drowning in despair, a noise came from outside. The first she had heard in two days, other than her own.
It was a sound that brought T'Rama to her senses. Someone was approaching.
In the darkness of the cave, a dim light entered from a ceiling opening. It wasn't much, but T'Rama's vision was sharp and, being on the brink of her mate's Fever, all her senses were also heightened. She sniffed the air, trying to distinguish the sounds and smells coming from outside …
First a barking reached her ears, then a growling – vocalizations she would recognise anywhere. I'Chaya.
Then she caught a male's heavy scent, unique in the entire universe. Skon!
Breathing heavily, she jerked to her feet – the barking got louder. I'Chaya was the first to walk through the cave's entrance, walking backwards, barking constantly to Skon, who stumbled a few feet behind him.
Seeing them, T'Rama gasped. Skon's clothes were torn. Both he and the sehlat were covered in dust. I'Chaya was barking furiously, clearly agitated. Skon looked around, trembling and unable to speak.
But he had gotten here. Alive.
It took some time for the enormous animal to spot T'Rama – his entire attention was focused on Skon who had leaned against the wall. Lost in the Fever, her adun didn't even seem to recognize his whereabouts.
"I'Chaya, good friend!" T'Rama said in a voice that nearly broke; her relief was more than obvious. "Now, go, wait at the entrance."
The sehlat turned toward her and watched both his friends uncertainly for a few moments.
!Is T'Rama serious leave them alone but each of his friends looks worse than the other T'Rama doesn't wear anything there is water on her face and her long hair looks worse than I'Chaya's fur Skon can barely stand he is breathing with difficulty looks ready to collapse he is dirty and SMELLS!
?If I'Chaya leaves who will take care of them?
"There is water and food at the cave's entrance. I'll take care of Skon," T'Rama reassured the sehlat, shamelessly wiping tears away. I'Chaya's devotion was most touching and her control was failing her absolutely. "Go on! Go, friend! Go and guard the entrance!"
"Uuuur … Arf!" The bulky sehlat let out a small cry and snorted his disapproval one more time, but gave in to T'Rama's emotional request and to the growling coming from his empty stomach. With heavy steps he turned and left the cave, leaving the couple alone.
Without saying a word, T'Rama ran back to the bed. It would be pointless to talk to Skon right now. At this point, he was always beyond comprehension. Without saying a word, she simply lay on her back, spreading her legs.
Seconds before, Skon had been on the verge of collapse. Yet the sight and smell of his bondmate revived him. Bound to a torturous Need that rose even above the limits of his strained body, he knew only one thing now.
No matter what, he had to reach her.
With urgent, yet unsteady steps, Skon approached the bed and lay on top of T'Rama, covering her body with his. He tried to unfasten his pants, but his shaking hands made the task impossible.
T'Rama sat up and tried to assist him, but Skon pushed her hands away. His urgent solution: he ripped his clothes. Fiercely, he pushed her down and entered her with one urgent thrust.
"Anghh!" he groaned in relief, and began to thrust quickly. T'Rama was more than ready; she had been moist since she'd caught his scent. Skon already had a full erection, but the Fever made her adun's movements asynchronous and irregular; it would take some time to find his normal tempo.
Just like every other Time, T'Rama tried to shift her hips, so as to guide him and accommodate his thrusts. But when she attempted to embrace him, Skon violently pinned her to the mattress and attacked her throat. His hands held hers down as he bit her collarbone so violently, he drew blood.
T'Rama moaned in pleasure and surprise. Skon's bite wasn't fiercer than usual… but why did he hold her hands?
"Grrrrr..." he snarled viciously and kept driving into her. It was a clear warning that he was in command and she was not to attempt another embrace. Seeing his face distorted from pain, T'Rama knew it was time to enter his mind.
A mental mayhem was unleashed through their bond. Naturally, she was prepared for this; Skon's emotions were always intensified to the highest degree. But now everything was reinforced by a stormy wind of anger that had taken over his mind, demolishing all other emotions.
Anger… There was so much anger inside her adun…
Anger against her, for doubting his endless devotion.
Anger with himself, for failing to reassure his bondmate about how much she meant to him. For not being able to give her a child. For not fulfilling all her needs. For not giving her the only thing she longed for.
Anger against his clan, for, although nobody had ever told him, he knew they needed an heir. And the clan was greater than him… or his adun'a. The clan was above all.
Holding T'Rama's hands down, Skon thrust and thrust, every time more passionately than before. Anger, pain, despair, and above all the rising Fever, were a dark veil clouding his sanity, hindering the last remains of thought.
Sensing that fathomless despair, T'Rama gasped. After all these years, after so many Times, she thought she knew the great depths Skon's mind could sink into every Time. But she was wrong, and her adun was right. This madness was too much for anyone to control.
What would he have done had he stayed at home that night, she wondered, terrified. Skon was right; during a Time, he never recognized her. And right now, he was forbidding her even to put her arms around him.
Skon slipped in and out of her, each thrust more frantic and more intense than the previous. The fleshy spines on his lok had developed fully and T'Rama could feel her first orgasm approaching.
This is it, she realised, the plak'tow. The blood fever. The danger that could claim her k'hat'n'dlawa's life. Their hope for an offspring.
A deep cry left T'Rama's lips as the first orgasm hit her fast. Her voice shattered the night, echoing back from the cave's walls, travelled from the cave's opening outside and became one with the desert's night life.
Once he came inside her, Skon temporarily stopped moving. Exhausted, he rested his head on T'Rama's breast and lay still for a few minutes, gasping for air.
It came as a shock to her how tired he was. How close he'd come to perishing somewhere in the Forge. Never before had her adun come to her in such a weakened state. Never before had they separated before his Time.
Most frightening, Skon's entire body was shaking, almost violently. Covered in dust from the desert, he was both burning and near the edge of collapse.
Yet, despite his profound exhaustion, his body burned from the fever, his lok twitched with need. It wouldn't be long before he would enter her again. At this stage he was unable to act otherwise.
Once Skon came, his grip relaxed. T'Rama immediately freed her hands to embrace her adun tight, slipping her arms around his shoulders and wrapping her strong legs around his waist. Then she pressed hard against his buttocks and pulled him in toward her.
Frantically, she kissed his mouth, his cheeks; she caressed his back, his shoulders, his head, every part of his body she could reach. She wanted to feel his physical presence, not just his mind. After their two-day separation, she needed to feel his body tight against her, inside her, his weight on her, physical evidence of their union, proof that he had finally reached her.
Just the mere idea, the single thought that anything might happen to him… that Skon might never return to her embrace… This fear made her heart stop and T'Rama felt a need to express aloud her overwhelming feelings.
"I am so sorry," she whispered in his ear, despite the fact that Skon was beyond understanding her. "I would rather die than lose you. Please forgive me. You and I are one, until our last breath. You know that, don't you? You will be my last breath."
Skon pressed his head into her neck, breathing heavily, sniffing her intensely. And T'Rama, between sobs, continued.
"There is no life without you," she said, knowing her adun heard nothing of this. Her hands caressed his shoulders, his head. "You are my life. You give me life."
She kissed his black hair, now full of desert dust. He would never remember her words. He would never know.
"Remember the day we first met? I didn't know back then, but I do now. I challenged you because I wanted to conquer you. Will you ever forgive me for the other night? I never wanted to leave you! What would I do if I had lost you in the Forge? Do you think I'd be able to live? How? You are my reason to breathe. You give me life. I would be half without you."
Her confession was cut short when Skon raised his head and looked deep into her eyes. His pupils dilated and constricted as his eyes were trying to focus. It was alarming, but T'Rama was mostly terrified by his irregular breath and the incomprehensible sounds that started coming from his mouth.
She feared he was choking.
"Are you well?" she cried, placing her fingers on his temple to check him telepathically.
He was burning, tired and confused. But all that was normal. What wasn't normal was Skon… trying to speak during plak'tow!
Before T'Rama managed to figure out what was happening, the sounds coming from her adun's mouth formed syllables.
"Tuh ... tuh rahm ..."
She froze – Skon was trying to speak her name.
"Tuh ... Trah ... T'Rahma" he mumbled, as his body shivered. T'Rama watched him, astounded. It was the first time in all their Times than Skon uttered even a single word.
As her nature dictated, T'Rama at once put aside her astonishment and began analyzing what was happening.
Could it be that the Fever was not at its highest point? No, all the symptoms were there. Except…
It took her only a moment to realize it. She had confused Skon's exhaustion with his increased Need... But the increased Need was because he'd been late reaching her. That was the reason he was violent.
Right now, the Fever was at its peak. It was less intense than the previous Times because ... Skon, her beloved adun… was getting older. As was she.
Realizing how that could affect their chances of conceiving, another sob escaped T'Rama's lips. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, while Skon entered her again. His lok was hard, the spines fully developed.
In the midst of their joined pain and passion, T'Rama's confession continued.
"I would give my life, to offer you an heir. I was willing to stay half alive, if you wanted a divorce. Beyond that… I can do nothing. Take me then, take anything you need. It has always been this way between us."
Skon began to move slowly at first, and brushed a kiss on the top of her head. But this tenderness lasted only for a few moments. Within seconds he began moving forcefully, his thrusts became more intense and fast.
And at that moment, as her body shook under Skon's, as he bit her throat, her arms, her breasts, T'Rama realized one thing.
It was the first time they had failed each other; yet she felt that the fault lay on her shoulders. She was the one that doubted their life together. Her anxiety over the fact that they hadn't produced a child had caused her to reconsider their bond, something that neither Skon nor his family had ever brought up. At least not in front of her or her parents.
Suddenly T'Rama realized that this was not the time for thinking. This was pon farr… the time of mating. Besides years of negative thoughts and self-doubting had resulted in Skon's endangerment. She had gained nothing.
Pondering about the past was simply illogical. There was not much she could do at this moment but focus exclusively on her life's most important task: keeping her beloved adun alive.
Through their bond, she concentrated on how Skon felt. Mating had made his anger disappear. Just like every other Time, the lust had taken over… and that improved her mood considerably.
Despite the severity of the situation, T'Rama always enjoyed mentally sharing his feverish orgasms. Every time Skon finished inside her, she felt a unique sensation. Through their joined consciousness, it seemed that their bodies melted into one, merged with the blankets, with the stone bed, the ground underneath. It was as if their unified core merged with the planet and became one.
Only this time, something extraordinary occurred. Among the several incoherent thoughts in Skon's mind, there was a scene that kept on resurfacing over and over again.
"No, not a little, girl. A little boy," she had said once, teasing Skon. "Strong and stubborn like his father."
And with the sharing of that thought, that single wish… For the first time in three days, T'Rama allowed a small ray of hope to sneak inside her heart.
Maybe… this Time… Just maybe…
She embraced him violently; her hands scratched on his back her bloody claim. This male was her mate. He belonged to her and her alone.
"Take everything you need," she whispered passionately in his ear, licking the sharply pointed tip, "and give me everything you are."
His bondmate's hot breath drove Skon and the heat inside him completely over the edge. Letting out a deep guttural sound, Skon withdrew and, as nature had designed, his barbed lok sent her insides into flame, blocking every coherent thought.
Another cry left T'Rama's lips as the second orgasm hit her. Many others would follow.
She closed her eyes and surrendered to heat and lust.
.
To Be Continued…
Vulcan words (from the Vulcan Language Dictionary and SpockLikesCats)
Adun, adun'a: husband, wife, beloved
kal'i'fee: challenge
K'hat'n'dlawa: half of each other's heart & soul
Kahs'wan: test of maturity/survival skills for Vulcans age 7
Plak'tow: Blood fever in Pon farr
Pon farr: surely, dear reader, you know what this is by now
Sehlat: Large, bear, dog-like in devotion and friendship, with 6-inch fangs. Think polar bear but brown, with very expressive eyes.
Shi'Kahr: city on Vulcan where S'chn T'gai clan have their homes and nearby ancestral caves.
A/N: Once again we must all thank SpockLikesCats who edited this chapter. SpockLikesCats is so devoted and kind, she even tries sounds - one of my weak points - to make sure the result is close to what I have imagined. My awful habit to make last minute changes makes all remaining mistakes entirely mine.
Two more chapters to go. As always, dear readers your thoughts and ideas are most welcomed. This chapter presents a difficult point in a Vulcan couple's relationship, so I'd love to hear what you think.
