III. Control.

Spock had been meditating all afternoon and evening since the briefing. He sat on his bed with his knees up and his fingertips on his temples, the quiet humming of the ship in the background the perfect, tranquil soundtrack to aid in his thought process. Inside, his body was a tremulous war zone. His mind raced. His muscles were rigid like grounds laden with landmines prepared to go off at any moment. His teeth were gnashed together, the pressure between them at dangerous levels like a convergent fault.

This wasn't the first time Spock had felt like this and it certainly wouldn't be the last. The problem was was that this was the first time he'd felt like this on a starship, far, far away from any solution to the problem. Well, there was a solution but it terrified him. The Enterprise was not in range to take Spock back to Earth with time to spare in resuming their current mission. Of course, Skylar would be available to aid in his predicament … but at what cost? At the moment, she was too valuable to be put in such a dangerous situation.

There was a knock on the door. Spock slowly raised his head and waited for a moment. His heart was pounding. He exhaled deeply and released his fingers from his temples. His body ached from being so rigid. Spock ignored it. It was illogical to dwell. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood and proceeded to the door with his arms more so at his sides. Pressing the keypad on the panel to unlock the entryway, the doors opened up revealing Skylar.

He raised an already slanted eyebrow. "Fascinating."

Skylar quickly lowered her glance, remembering what she was wearing and then rolled her eyes. Returning her gaze up at him, she said with a hint of disgust, "Captain's orders." She paused. There was a slight awkwardness hanging in the air as the next question came out of her mouth. "Can I come in?"

"Odd," he stated. "This is not a general query from you. It is assumed that you desire to enter when you visit my quarters."

"I know … but I didn't want to disturb you if you were busy," Skylar said, reaching out to touch his arm.

Spock caught her at the elbow and gently led her into the room. The lights were low.

"Were you meditating?" she inquired.

"I was," he replied.

"I can come back, Spock."

"No," he said firmly. He wrapped his arms around her. "I would prefer it if you stayed.

Her chin resting on his chest, she looked up at him. "Are you okay, Spock? A couple of us have noticed that you haven't been yourself lately."

"And what have the couple of you noticed?"

Skylar shrugged against him. "You just seem … off."

"That is not an adequately descriptive observation, Skylar," the Vulcan said, his low voice slightly vibrating through his chest against her chin.

Skylar watched him for a moment. His eyes seemed darker, but then again the lack of light could have easily contributed to that. His grip around her was tight; it was lovely from her standpoint, but it was unusually tight. The only time he ever gripped her so tightly was when they made love. Being a Vulcan, it was hard for him to control his own strength during such an emotionally charged and vigorous release. She was sure many Vulcans would have simply had sex as they saw fit; but she knew Spock was very good at controlling himself. He made it a point to make sure that he was not being too rough. Skylar found this quality so incredibly sexy because she could see how much Spock wanted to lose control but he managed to retain himself. She wanted him to be comfortable; she wanted him to do what he had to do as a Vulcan because that was exactly what he was – at least most of him, anyway. In fact, the curious side of her wanted Spock to be rough. She wanted to know if she could handle him the way he handled her. But Spock always refused. There was always a constant power struggle between the animalistic Vulcan side and the emotionally repressed humanistic side. It was during this time that she caught flashes of human Spock. It was a very hard struggle to watch, but it was also flattering that he should share something so intimate with her.

"Please know that if there is something you want to talk about that I'm here," Skylar told him barely louder than a whisper. "You can tell me anything and I'll do whatever I can to help."

"I understand," he replied. "Your intentions are regarded."

"A simple thank you would have been okay," she challenged. Skylar tilted her head back and kissed him. As she started to part his lips with her tongue, Spock turned away though he did not release her. Skylar watched him curiously, maintaining calm concern. "Why don't you want to kiss me?"

Spock released her completely and turned, taking a glass from the counter. As he began to fill it with water from a tall, slender jar, he replied over his shoulder, "How is your new uniform to your liking?"

Clicking her tongue and crossing her arms over her chest, Skylar took a few steps towards the counter. "It's horrible. I feel absolutely naked and inappropriately prepared."

Spock took a drink from his glass. "That is shame. I find that it looks rather becoming on you."

"That's what Jim said."

Spock turned to her. "The captain has been known to have discriminating taste from time to time, at least in terms of fashion."

Skylar placed her fingers on Spock's shoulder and slowly turned him so that he was facing her. "If it is so 'becoming' then why do you refuse to look at me?"

He stared into her eyes. "That is not necessarily my intention …" Spock reached out to put the glass of water back on the counter when suddenly it broke in his hand. The sharp alarm of the shatter startled Skylar as she instantly took hold of his wrist.

"Are you okay?" she queried, alarmed.

Spock released the remaining shards of glass onto the counter, revealing a simple cut on his the skin between his thumb and index finger. The soft green of blood was beginning to form in the torn skin. "I apologize if you were startled, but I've sustained no significant injuries."

Skylar grabbed the vase of water and ran some of the water over it. Looking around for any sign of hand towel, she quickly brought up the pleat of her skant to press against the wound. Spock quickly retracted his hand. "It's just to dry it, Spock," she argued softly. "And it's the underside, no one will ever know." She took a firm hold around his wrist and brought it back down to the hem where she folded the fabric up and pressed it to the cut. Spock watched her perfect first aid skills come to life with such primitive materials. In doing so, he caught a glimpse of her upper thigh. He blinked as his arms began to stiffen and abdominal muscles clenched. His teeth began to clench again. It was returning. An overwhelming sensation of primal instinct swept over him. Spock wanted her to leave, but another part of him wondered why. After all, she was his mate … but would this really be an appropriate conquest two nights away from the arrival of Trill? Maybe taking her would cease the fever all together, considering that his meditation was not working as quickly as he'd surmised.

As Skylar lightly tugged on his hand, applying pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, Spock allowed his hand toward her. The very end of his middle fingertip very gently brushed the inside of her thigh. He could feel the pulse in her grip around his wrist jump. She knew of his position. He could not help but wonder if she thought it to be simply casual contact or a sexual advancement. Skylar's eyes flashed up at his and he kept them on hers while she went back to sweeping off the last of the water and blood.

"There, all better," she remarked, releasing his hand and dropping the pleat.

Spock's hand remained. "I told that there was nothing to worry about." All five of Spock's fingertips were now in contact with Skylar's inner thigh. She was locked in his glance. She was such a fascinating creature to observe in these types of situations. Skylar was a woman about dominance, Spock had calculated. She handled situations admirably under pressure solo or when given a leadership role. During a sparring match, her only goal was to dominate over her opponent. She and Nyota subconsciously bickered over their female social dominance. To anyone observing, Skylar was a significant display of an aptly powerful woman. However, Spock had found her weakness … him. He was well aware of how uncomfortable she became when she was not in control anymore. And in the bedroom, as much as she struggled for dominance, Skylar had yet to succeed. Spock was too strong for her. He, too, was well aware of this need for control. He knew Skylar would become frustrated at times but that frustration turned into fuel. Skylar would eventually submit. Spock always found this intriguing. In any other situation, backing down would never be an option. Perhaps she realized that her cause against the biology of a Vulcan was a no-win situation and that it was simply logical to allow him the control. Or perhaps, though she would never vocally admit it, Skylar enjoyed the captivity. Spock had yet to solidify a theory. As a scientist, though, he was always inclined to experiment. And maybe on some level Skylar was aware that she was the guinea pig, but this, too, would never be admitted. There was only mutual trust in the other's company, and Spock concluded that that was enough.

Now he could hear the acute increase of her heart rate. Her skin was smooth and warm to the touch. It was pleasurable. Naturally, the rest of his hand slid around her thigh, caressing her skin delicately. Skylar's hands curled into fists. Very soon she would be on him, but as always, Spock would reject such a forward action. He preferred a slower, more observed process. He preferred stimulating her by any means until she would almost fight him for advancement; then he would silence her actions by distracting her with focuses on other parts of her body. He knew she yearned for instant gratification as any human did. Spock would not allow it. Anything too rigorous could make him lose control … and hurt her, especially now. His body was on red alert. He could feel how warm his own skin was. He blood was racing faster than usual, even when aroused. Had the circumstance been any different, had he been completely Vulcan, he would not have considered her safety because the whole quandary would not have been about her at all. But his human side, as quiet as it was, spoke to him. It rallied for her wellbeing. And he made his Vulcan side listen. Spock had to control himself. Failure was not an option.

Running his hand up the short distance between her thigh and the brim of her bloomers, he stopped at the inner gap between her legs as his hand had nowhere else to go. Spock tightened his grip around her leg. He pulled her close like this, Skylar gasping as she was moved to him. His hand moved to the outside of her other leg now, his other hand mirroring. He gripped the lower curves on her bottom right below the hemlines of her bloomers. Skylar wrapped her arms around his neck and together they picked her up off of the floor, her legs now tightly wrapped around his waist. Spock allowed her to kiss his neck as he carried her easily to the bed. He lowered her, her legs holding him bound, and remained above her. He knew she wanted to feel him upon her. Spock did not condone it. He straightened up and unlocked her legs, removing her boots. He watched her. Skylar was breathing hard but he was sure that it wasn't completely from her arousal; a hint of fear was in her eyes. She was a smart lover; she understood his touch and she could tell that there was something different about it. They had not kissed at all. Skylar was up on her elbows, watching him, searching for a hint of him. But as much as Spock wanted to make this like any other night, it could not be done. The predicament was altered … he was altered. The best that he could do would be to maintain control.

Skylar was not wearing Federation regulated stockings so access would be easy. However, that was not his current target. He told himself that perhaps she would not look so differently at him if he allowed her something. He bent forward over her, his arms caging her in over her shoulders, and kissed her. She did not part his lips – he parted hers. Hard. Maybe a little too hard. Regardless, she tilted her chin up ever so slightly to meet the movement of his face. He heard her against the sheets. Her thighs brushed anxiously against his. Her hands cupped tightly around his biceps. He knew she wanted him on top of her. He did not do so. As his tongue aggressively massaged hers, Spock felt her hands move down his sides to the bottom of his Science Officer tunic. She pulled it up along his leanly muscular torso. Her thumbs brushed against his skin in the process. It was pleasurable. He maintained control and continued kissing her passionately until she was forced to stop the process. In fairness, he allowed her to take the article of clothing off. He straightened up as she clumsily pulled the tunic off of him and cunningly seized the moment to sit upright against his midsection. He was on his knees before her as she kissed the hardened area above his bellybutton. Spock watched her, his heart racing. His hands were balled into fists. Not good. She was very good at turning him on. This could be potentially dangerous. Perhaps a softer course of action would be efficient. Relaxing a fist, he released her hair from its high ponytail and let it fall gracefully down her back. He ran his fingers through it. Something dark inside of him told him to pull. He clenched at the thought. His fingers began to curl. Spock let his hand run down the side of her face, cupping her jaw line in his hand. His thumb rested on her throat, lightly caressing her flesh. The distant pulsating rhythm from the blood flow in her neck against his skin was stimulating. They locked in a stare at each other. Spock tried to soften his features but by the look on Skylar's face, he knew that she was aware of something else present. As gently as possible, Spock provoked her to turn so that she was facing away from him. He carefully placed her hair over her shoulder, moving a hand firmly down her arm as he did so. Then Spock located the zipper to the skant. He knew instantly how uncomfortable Skylar was. She was not used to this step in the process. There was only ever a swift removal of a tunic over her head and a pull of her pants and they could be on their way to bliss without leaving the bed. The skant would require her to stand to step out of it.

Spock unzipped the zipper all the way down to right above the top of her bottom. His hands instantly went to her shoulders, gripping them tightly and giving a brief, firm massage before they slid over the curves of each shoulder causing the top of the skant to fall down half the length of her arms. Without leaving her flesh, Spock's hands moved around to the front where her breasts were just barely exposed. His hands closed around them easily and tightly, massaging them more forcibly than usual. Skylar tilted her head back against his chest as a sharp gasp escaped her lips. In a way to attempt to comfort her, Spock leaned in and kissed her – hard. His body wanted nothing more than to ravish her then and there, but Spock's mind was working on overload to restrain himself. As his hands closed hard over her breasts again, Skylar whimpered thought it was muffled as they kissed. She began to remove her arms from the confinement of the skant when suddenly Spock seized her by the shoulders and forced her up next to the bed. His thumbs hooked into the top of the skant and he pulled the whole thing down effortlessly, leaving Skylar standing in nothing but her bloomers. She reached out to touch him on the face but Spock caught her by the wrist. Skylar slightly pulled away but he maintained his grip – a test, he deduced, as she searched for another option in seducing him. Opening her caged hand, Skylar wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled hard, bringing Spock to a standing position; or rather, he allowed himself to be pulled by her as an attempt to win back her trust. Cat and mouse, cat and mouse, his mind mused.

Spock stood before her and Skylar stared up at him. He released her hand and she instantly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants so that they, too, fell next to her skant. He stepped out of them as she pushed him back onto the bed, on top of him. They both were in only their underwear, Skylar sitting on top of him. She could finally feel him completely. She bent over him, gripping his wrists and pressing them into the sheet as she kissed him hand, her pelvis automatically pressing into his, his arousal now very apparent against her. Spock could feel everything in his being beginning to lose control. His mind was starting to focus on what his body wanted and it wanted nothing more than to be inside of her. He freed his hands from her grip and she continued to kiss him, her hands moving to either side of his jaw line.

Control, his mind commanded, and his hands found the sides of her thighs. Pressing into them, he ran his fingertips up the length of her legs, up to the bottom hem of her bloomers. She was now moving against him dangerously. She knew what he wanted and he knew that she took great pleasure both mentally and physically in teasing him. Seizing her firmly, he flipped them over so that he was now on top of her. Skylar was not entirely disappointed by the foiling of her playtime, he observed. She ran her hands over his shoulders, around the outside of his chest down towards the brim of his black boxer briefs. Just before she could slip her fingers around the fabric, he caught her hand and removed it. Almost glaring up at him, Skylar tried the next best move to have the upper hand (and a childish attempt to irritate him): she placed her thumbs inside of the sides of her bloomers and started to push them down. Spock instantly sat up and held her hands in place.

End it, his mind instructed. His body couldn't wait any longer. There was an element of hostility coming over him. He couldn't hurt her; it wasn't her fault at all, but Spock was finding it harder and harder to control himself with her. Skylar, even when she couldn't necessarily have control of the situation, found ways to make it harder for Spock to maintain it. And at this point, she was putting herself at risk to an even higher level of dangerous Vulcan behavior. The insatiable craving had already begun … and during any other time, Skylar would have satisfied him completely. Tonight, she would merely be a morsel.

As Skylar moved upward on the bed, Spock pulled her bloomers downward. After releasing her from them and discarding them instantly, Spock moved over her again, freeing himself from his own boxer briefs in the process. Skylar wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to kiss him but he refuted it. Instead, he took her hands away from him and he watched her. She stared up at him intensely. There was fear again; small, but present. Perhaps she was second guessing her desire to be vulnerable under him. Regardless, she'd allowed it to happen; she no longer had a choice. Spock entered her. Skylar instantly curved her back so that her flat tummy arched up towards his. He pulled back and pressed into her harder. She tilted her head back on the pillow. He retracted and then pushed into her again, harder. She moaned. He continued the process. It became more aggressive. Skylar moaned again, louder. Spock was shaking. He was desperately trying not to hurt her, but his body was taking over. His mind raced. The landmines in his muscles were beginning to explode. His teeth were gritted together and he had the overwhelming urge to break something with his fists. More than ever, he wanted a release. He seized her wrists together in one hand and pinned them over her head. She struggled against him; he lowered himself down and tried to reassure her that he wasn't trying to hurt her. He kissed her, her whimpers ringing in his ears. The kissing became harder. Her flesh was delightful against his tongue. Nudging her chin with the bridge of his nose roughly, he began to kiss her around her jugular … no, he wasn't kissing anymore. He was biting her. His mind chided him. Not hard, not too hard.

It was almost over. Spock could feel it. The fever wasn't going away. A fearful awakening seized him but his mind wouldn't focus on that. Instead, it lingered on what was currently happening. Skylar was completely taking him in. It was rougher than usual. The internal war was waging and her body was the battlefield. His face was buried in the crook of her neck. She was moaning. These moans were different. They triggered something in him; she was surrendering. His body had conquered.

He released his victim's hands and they moved stealthily to his chest, wrapping around him in hopes of a comforting embrace. They always ended like that, holding each other as they finished in harmonious ecstasy. Spock could not embrace her. It wasn't about her. Skylar clung to him, her face now against his. In her final moments she searched for something familiar. His black eyes were merely pools, annulled of comfort. Spock managed to return his face to the crook of her neck. He hid there. He thrusted into her, harder and faster than ever. He wanted release, needed that release. Suddenly Skylar recoiled against him, unusually silent. This triggered him. Every muscle within him tensed. He wrapped an arm tightly around her back, entrapping her. They stayed paused in this moment as they each finished, Spock breathing hard into her ear. Skylar's hands were balled into fists between their chests, the only separation between their bodies. She whimpered against him again.

Although it was still present, the fever subsided. Still holding onto her almost effortlessly, Spock found himself again. His face was still buried into the crook of her head and instantly – and apologetically – he began to kiss her jaw tenderly. Suddenly, she rejected his touch. He opened his eyes. He gritted his teeth. Her neck was bruised. Dark purple circular marks painfully lined her neck. Spock gently laid her back against the pillow. He finally looked at her. Skylar stared up at him, breathing hard. Her brown eyes were brimmed with tears but she did not look scared. She was searching again.

"Skylar," Spock started to whisper but her finger caught his lips.

Skylar looked at him for another moment and then turned over and away from him. Her brown hair fell over against the pillow, revealing more bruise marks on her shoulder. His fingers went to touch them but Skylar shrugged his hand away. Spock laid his head on the pillow behind hers. Carefully, he placed his arm around her. He bumped her breast and she shuddered against him. He instantly moved so that his arm was under hers and away from her chest. He listened to her breathing. He listened as she began to attempt to mask the fact that she was now allowing her tears to fall. Spock remained awake when she eventually fell asleep.

Spock could not fall asleep. Instead, the fever reminded him that tonight he dominated her – but he had yet to win the war.