Unfinished Business

Chapter 41 : Once More Through the Fires

November 2274

It was while he was busy at his console that he felt the first tremors. He looked at his hands, the fingers vibrating against the smooth surface underneath them, and felt the beginnings of what would soon engulf him. He did not think he was ready for this. He was not sure Nyota was. Perhaps if he ignored it the symptoms would subside. But when Kirk came up behind him and made a simple request, he turned on him and snarled, and then drew back in mortification. Surely he had not just done that! Nyota turned her head and looked at him in astonishment, and he felt her, in the back of his mind, questioning. He could not decide how he should react, and so just sat there, in miserable isolation.

Jim was still standing there, looking at him in shock. "Spock, is there anything wrong?"

"Nothing which need concern you."

"That doesn't sound like the answer I was hoping to hear." Jim looked at him, his brows drawn together. "Do I need to call McCoy?"

"That will not be necessary."

"Well, something's off, and that's certain. You just don't act like that. Never." And then he was silent, and tilted his head as though remembering something, and looked straight back into Spock's eyes. "Except for once. I do remember once when you reacted in this way."

Spock was decidedly uncomfortable now, but he said nothing, staring straight ahead and maintaining his stony silence. Kirk turned and paced the few steps to Uhura's station and bent over her, his face close to hers. Spock growled. Two faces turned to him then, assessing. His ears turned quite green. He should not have reacted like that.

Kirk straightened up. "I'm relieving you from duty right now. Head for your quarters, mister, on the double." He turned back to Uhura. "Call up his relief, will you?" He watched as Spock stiffly rose from his seat and headed for the turbolift. When the doors had closed in front of his frozen face, he turned back to Uhura. "And call your own as well. I'm fairly certain I know what this is, and you better head for sick bay and speak with McCoy."

She nodded, and placed the two calls, leaving the bridge as soon as her relief appeared. She headed straight for McCoy, knowing exactly what was wrong with Spock. She could feel him now, trying to control what was happening, without much success. She needed to get to him, as quickly as possible.

When she got to sick bay, Len was in his office, and she quickly entered and shut the door behind her. "Len, it's that time again."

McCoy looked up, confused. "What time?"

"Spock's time."

The doctor's face immediately became concerned. "Are you sure? Wait, let me figure out the timing. Yes, it's been almost exactly seven years. But what is he doing?"

"He yelled at Jim on the bridge in response to a simple inquiry, and then pretended it didn't happen. And his hands are shaking. When Jim came over to my station, and bent down to ask me if I had noticed anything strange about Spock, he growled, loudly."

"Yep, that's it all right. Never seen him do any of those things under normal circumstances. Has to be all those hormones running riot in his system." The doctor sighed. "I'll bet he's beside himself."

"He's trying to pretend it isn't happening. Jim sent him off the bridge, and he's in his quarters, pacing around. I really need to get to him."

Len's head jerked. "Get him out of his quarters, and into yours. There's just too many Vulcan artifacts in his."

She was shocked. "You aren't seriously considering that he might USE any of those weapons?"

"No, but when he gets like that, there's not much telling what he might do. Although if this is the first day, it might be possible to head off the worst of it. From what I've learned the longer it goes on before, uh, relief, the worst it is."

"And that's why I'm going to go take care of things, right now." With that she turned and left sick bay, walking swiftly, scarcely hearing the comment behind her that they were both going on medical leave as of right now. She headed straight for Spock's quarters, and tapped the touchplate, but when the door slid open, she did not enter. She simply stood in the doorway, blocking the door, and looked at him, until he acknowledged her.

"Come with me." She brooked no disagreement at all. He recognized that tone in her voice, and could not argue with it. He followed where she led, his complete attention on her. She went down the corridor to her own quarters and entered, with him right on her heels. She headed straight for her bedroom and began to remove her clothing, while he stood there behind her, shaking. When she was bare, she turned to him and sighed, and then began to remove his clothing, while he simply stood there, making small noises, deep in his chest.

As soon as she had him stripped, with his lok hard and dark against his belly, she dropped to her knees, and engulfed him, and he moaned, loud and long, at the feel of her wet mouth on his tortured flesh. Her hands came up and clutched his buttocks, pulling him into her, and he vibrated, completely out of control, his climax coming swiftly, loudly, and explosively. She swallowed, again and again, until he was finished, and then she slowly withdrew down his length, releasing him with a soft pop of sound. She stood again, so close to him, and he rested his forehead against hers, welcoming the calm that she had brought him.

"Nyota."

"Yes, Spock."

"I need you."

"Yes, I know, love. Come on now, on the bed."

He let himself be led, and laid upon her bed, but would not release her, clutching at her hands.

"Spock, you have to let me go or I'll lose my balance."

He let her loose, uttering a small sound, but she was quickly there beside him, spreading herself out over him, filling him with her scent, and the feel of her soft, smooth skin against his. "You're so hot. And shaking. Ah, Spock, let me in, let me help."

"I do not wish to expose you to the thoughts that I have. My logic is fast deserting me. The fever is claiming me."

"I know, baby, I know. But let me in anyway, let me help." And she began to kiss him softly, running her hands over him, and he opened his mind and let her in, her soft calm enveloping him. He sighed, and relaxed and let his hands wander over her, as hers did over him.

He let her set the pace, this time, knowing that soon it would not be possible, and she enflamed him until he could not hold back, and rolled her over and buried himself within her, thrusting hard and fast, until she screamed at him and convulsed about him, bringing the ecstasy that he desired, needed, would die without.

He lay quietly for a while after that, until the fever rose again, and he muttered at her, hands and mouth insistent against her body. She moaned, and sighed, and whispered to him, enflaming him further, until he lifted her above him, and empaled her, and filled his hands with her lush breasts as she bent over him, rocking her body against his in lovely motion, causing him to growl and thrust up hard into her body, until once again they were soaring through the light.

He slept then, for some unknown length of time. His internal clock was not functioning at all. She was still sleeping when next the fires pulled at him, but he retained enough thought to know that he must not injure her as he had unintentionally done once before. And so he bent his body, and found that nest of curls, parted it with shaking fingers, and applied his mouth and tongue, until she was bucking beneath him, crying out, wet and ready for him to plunge in.

And so it went, until they were both exhausted, and lay upon one another, wondering when this would stop. He found that he could think again, at least for the moment, and allowed her up, into the bathroom, without him, although he trembled until she returned, a glass of water in her hands. He managed to drink half of it before he must stop, and she lay down again, and brushed his hair back from his face, speaking tenderly to him. And then they slept, deeply, and when they woke again, he let her pull him into the shower, and cleanse his body, leaning against her, unsteady on his feet.

Dressed in tee and loose pants, he sat at her table and sipped hot tea, and then a bowl of soup. But the fires were not entirely gone, and when he reached for her, shaking again, she was there, slipping easily into his lap and caressing him, biting him gently on the neck, and rubbing against him until he rose and carried her back to the bed.

Twice more they did this, and then he awakened clear-headed, and knowing what the day was, and the time. Another day, spent quietly, eating and resting, and he felt himself again. And was much encouraged that he had not harmed her this time, and that she was still there with him, and not unhappy.