Title: Afloat
Author: Farfalla the Butterfly-Kitten
Email: blueberrysnail (at) yahoo dot com
Website: the Kirk/Spock happyplace
Pairing: K/S
Rating: mild R
Beta: Hypatia-sama
Summary: Pon farr puts some pretty bizarre images into Spock's subconscious
Written for the KSOF Summer 2005

Afloat

The Time had descended upon Spock like a thick, contaminated smoke, choking all reason from his tortured body. He groped in the darkness for his light. When his hands finally found Jim through the smog, he grasped the man tightly and brought him forward. His fingers sank deep into the flesh of Jim's arms as he blindly mouthed the air, seeking his kiss as one seeks clear air to breathe.

He could not control the tidal wave he had become, drowning Jim in a wash of his lust and hormones. He clung to Jim, dragging him down into his whirlpool. Jim would lead him back into the sunshine. Jim was his sustenance, his nourishment--was all that he required. Jim would keep him alive. He tasted the human's mouth in his, and then his blood, yet he could not stop. His Vulcan body betrayed the silenced control of his Vulcan mind, and drove him yet onward against the cool human flesh.

When it was over he sat still as the fog cleared, clutching in his hands the wet and twisted bedsheets, the empty bedsheets, where before there had been Jim. With a sorrow that stole the very breath from his chest he realized that he had devoured his mate. He had eaten Jim completely, like an animal, like a ghoul.

Numb with shock, he dizzily fell backwards against the bed.

A pair of strong arms caught him around the waist. "Spock! Spock. Wake up."

"Jim. Jim!" Spock's eyes snapped open and drank in the sight of a very alive Jim Kirk. He was still gasping from the nightmare. "I... dreamed..."

"That must have been some nightmare," Jim remarked, running his hand protectively over Spock's hair. "You kicked me awake and stole the blankets."

"I apologize," Spock mumbled.

"Your hair is wet," Jim noticed, continuing to pet his Vulcan soothingly. "You don't usually sweat."

"It must be a symptom of my... impending..." Too pained to finish the sentence, Spock instead buried his head in Jim's waiting arms.

"I'm here for you, whenever you need me," Jim reminded him. He shifted in the bed to improve the comfort of their position.

"Thank you for that," said Spock, "but I still fear for your safety."

"Spock, we talked about this already. Humans have made it through a Vulcan mate's pon farr before. Think about your mother! If... that... doesn't make you uncomfortable, that is," Jim added with an uneasy smile.

"I have seen the logic of that premise and repeated it to myself dozens of times," Spock asserted. "But pon farr strips us of our logic, and of our trust in solid arguments, and leaves us instead with raw emotions and fears. I dreamed..."

"Yes, Spock?"

"I dreamed just now that I had... harmed you."

"Well, we'll try to prevent that," Jim reassured him.

"Years ago, at the time of my first pon farr," said Spock in a choked voice, "we were powerless. On the sands of Vulcan, I fulfilled my urges against your body, even as the madness drove me to kill you."

"You came in your pants there because you were rolling around with me on the sand, not because you thought you were killing me." Jim gave Spock's body a tight squeeze. "Isn't that right?"

"Indeed."

"So this time, we'll be rolling around just like before, only without the killing part. Think you can handle that?"

"Jim," Spock said quietly. "Jim, I fear--greatly--losing control of my mind."

"That's understandable. Your mind is what makes you special. You've spent a lot of time and effort perfecting that masterpiece."

"I despise the idea of being forced by my physiology to commit acts of violence against my will."

"We're not going to have any acts of violence!" Jim exclaimed emphatically. "Mister, I'm gonna keep you so satisfied next week that you won't have enough ~energy~ left over to do so much as pull my hair."

"What will you do for me?" Spock inquired, his body finally relaxing in Jim's arms.

"Mmm." Jim pondered. "I'm going to kiss every square inch of your body."

"I prefer Metric."

Good, thought Jim. He's being himself again. "Then I'll have to kiss you more, because there are more square centimeters than square inches in the same area."

"My point, precisely."

"I'm wise to you!"

"Indeed. Continue, please?"

"Well, after that, I'm going to... suck you here.... and squeeze this..."

There were no more nightmares in their bedroom that night.

Farfalla's Kirk/Spock happyplace
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