A/N: Okay, so. This fic is pretty much completely smut. But it's not pointless smut. I read a fic (one of my favourites, by the way) called 'Christmas in a Pink Sweater' by Tubular Fox. There is a fade to black Pon Farr scene in there that Tube requested someone write out her. Well, and.... Voila! I guess xD But, anyway, here it is. Enjoy! If you want to read the story in correct order, this is chapter 7.5, set between the end of 7 and the beginning of 8

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Jim's shirt hit the floor with a dull thud, drawing Spock's heated attention.

"What--?"

Then Spock stopped, frozen, entranced by the sight before him. There stood his T'hy'la, all smooth, tanned skin, surface rippling gently with the rise and fall of his tight abdominal muscles. The half-Vulcan's breathing hitched, catching in his throat as his eyes poured over Jim. He felt the sudden urge to, quite literally jump the man standing across from him.

But, just as he shifted his weight, leaning forward marginally, he caught himself and backpedaled, plastering himself against the wall furthest from the object of his powerful desire.

"Jim..." he started shakily, "T'hy'la, that is unwise. Stop." His tones were clipped, his voice strained, as he took in a short breath. Even the other man's scent, at this point, was intoxicating.

Then Jim slowly undid the button of his jeans. Spock's eyes snapped down to the crotch of his jeans, then immediately snapped closed, trying to block out all temptation, however futile he knew the efforts to be. He moaned softly at the thrills being sent through his body, the slight quivering he felt in his limbs as he pressed himself even flatter against the wall. His eyes opened again as he was, quite suddenly, flush against Jim, who had closed the distance between them silently (or at least quiet enough that the Vulcan couldn't hear it over the rapid pounding of blood in his ears).

Then something in him just snapped.

Spock growled, a deep animalistic sound in the back of his throat that sent goosebumps to rising all across Jim's flesh, the hair on the back of his neck standing up on end. All at once Jim was slammed, maybe a little harder than he would've liked, but not hard enough that it really hurt. Still, though, the aggression sent a small shiver up his spine. He had a moment of 'oh, shit. What did I just get myself into?' before his mouth was suddenly filled with Spock's tongue. It was rougher, somehow, than a human's tongue. He couldn't, honestly, say that he minded too much, though, as it swept around inside his mouth.

As Spock released him, marginally, from the pleasant crush of his body against his so he could remove the sweater he was wearing, Jim had the mind about him to blindly grope around until he felt the doorknob and turn the lock, a soft click! ensuring that the mechanism was safely in place, securing their privacy.

Then the kiss returned with crushing force, occupying Jim's full attention again as he let his eyes slide closed in the battle for dominance that he knew he was going to lose even before it began. He felt smooth, warm hands finishing the job of removing his favourite pair of jeans, his boxers sliding down along with them to leave him completely bare, his half-mast (and quickly growing) arousal left bare to the air as his pants pooled around his ankles.

Then, just as he moved to do the same with Spock's trousers, he felt the Vulcan's hands beat him to the job, efficiently removing them. It was amusing, momentarily, that even as unwound as Spock was right then, as crazy and out of control as he was, he managed to make moves efficient and calculating, almost more out of natural grace than conscious thought.

Then the amusement all vanished from his thoughts as the deliciously hot skin of Spock's body was pressed against him, completely skin-to-skin all the way from head to toe. And there was definitely no hiding Spock's arousal, either, the completely hardened length pressing firmly against Jim's own. It was Jim's turn to make a sound at that and he let out a small gasp into their fierce kiss.

Spock merely returned the sound with another of his own, strangely inhuman, definitely-Vulcan sounds that sent Jim's blood surging and his heart pounding. That cry was, perhaps, the most exotically arousing thing he'd ever heard. And James T. Kirk was no amateur in bedding aliens, so that was saying something.

But Jim needed to breath. So, after a few minutes of fighting to break off the kiss, he succeeded in pulling away a few inches and gasping in a few ragged breaths. "Spock..." he managed breathlessly. This was all fine and good with Jim, really, he didn't mind having sex with Spock at all. But, he was still a little startled by the other's sudden aggression, even though, when he stopped to think about it, it made perfect sense in correlation with his trying to strangle Jenna.

Spock, it seemed, was far beyond forming sensible thoughts in his current state. He merely shook his head, leveling the Captain with a burning gaze from his dark, richly brown eyes. It was, almost literally, smoldering with the heat coming off his body.

Then Jim was being pulled towards the bed, pressed down firmly on the mussed sheets, untidy from Jim's lack of motivation to actually make them up that morning. His eyes were closed, only feeling things—the smooth sheets, rough relative to the smoothness of the skin against his; the feel of hands roaming along his body, inexperienced and slightly unsure, yet more aggressive than he'd ever imagined; lips and tongue and teeth gnashing against his in an equally inexperienced yet fierce manner as the hands.

It was then that James Tiberius Kirk, virtual sex god was reduced to nothing more than moaning putty in the half-Vulcan's hands. Imagine that: a virgin (or, at least, Jim assumed Spock was a virgin. After all, he just couldn't imagine him and Uhura and nooky...) leaving Jim Kirk at a loss as what to do in the sack, completely and effortlessly dominating him into total submission. It was a day that may or may not have been the first sign of the apocalypse.

"Spock!" was the sharp cry that came, unbidden, from Jim's throat as he felt the hand reaching around his body, to his backside, try to creepy their way inside of him. There was a moment of hesitation of the half-Vulcan's part. It was obvious that he was trying desperately to control himself, to stop, but he was slowly losing his resolve.

Though their close contact, Jim could feel a vague sense of Spock's mangled, scattered thought process. He wanted to stop, felt as if he was taking monumental advantage of the Captain. The shock in Jim's voice had been misconstrued as unease, made into just another indicator that what he was doing was wrong.

But Spock had it all wrong. Jim... Jim wanted this. He wanted Spock. And he wanted him bad. The name had come to his lips thoughtlessly, and out of surprise more than anything. He had bedded more than one of the male variety in his day, both Human and alien, and even some of the more experienced ones didn't want to go full on, like it seemed Spock was. In fact, he was surprised that the other man even knew what to do.

Spock was very still, trying to keep himself from going on because he thought Jim didn't want him to, but wanting oh so badly to keep going. So, Jim took the initiative and pressed back against Spock probing fingers, feeling two slide slowly and tightly into him. Spock's breath hitched at this and he moaned loudly, probably louder than the half-Vulcan would have ever even imagined to, if he'd been in the right state of mind.

Jim seemed to remember something, then, about Vulcan's and their hands and wondered vaguely just how good that had felt to Spock. It was just that little bit that sent Spock over the edge. That simple pressing backwards was all Jim had to do for Spock to lose all semblance of control.

He started moving quickly, aggressively, and roughly. Spock's hips thrust shamelessly forward, against his own. His fingers still probed, quickly, deeply, and without any inhibition, causing Jim to arch off the bed slightly in mingled pleasure and pain. His lips weren't so much even kissing him anymore as they were crushing against his own. The Vulcan didn't even seem to be conscious of his movements anymore—when Jim looked into his eyes, they were either closed or, for the brief moments that he caught a glimpse of them open, rolled back so that only the whites showed. It was a little eerie, almost, disconcerting. But, Jim could tell this was an actual physical need for Spock. It didn't matter how good it was, or whether Spock was even really thinking about it. If sex was what it took to keep him from dying, it was precisely what they were going to do. Jim had volunteered, after all.

Spock was breathing hard. In the however-fucking-long he'd known the Vulcan, Jim had only seen him breathing hard once, during the Narada incident, when he'd attacked Jim on the Bridge. It seemed that Jim Kirk had a way of making the other sweat and get all riled up, in more than one manner of the phrase.

Spock seemed to be completely taken over by his more animal, primal side and it was shocking when, suddenly, the fingers were pulled out of his backside, a little roughly, eliciting a sharp gasp of discomfort from the younger of the two males. He barely had time to recover from that before he suddenly found himself lying on his stomach with Spock hovering over him.

The hovering only lasted a few seconds before Spock wasn't hovering anymore and he was crushed against Jim's body, gloriously hot flesh pressed against the entire length of his body. There was a sharp pain at the first penetration, causing Jim to suck in a sharp breath of air. He didn't get much time to adjust.

In fact, he didn't get much time at all. Before he knew it, Spock went all tense and it was over. Quick and dirty. Damn.

There was only a short reprise, though, for him to recover, before he could feel Spock, who was laying beside him, become aroused again. Pon Farr was, after all, a several days long event.

The second time was much like the first—quick an dirty, with Spock almost mindless.

The third time Jim managed to get the half-Vulcan to slow down a bit, to explore. The alien's hands roamed all over the Captain's body, finding places that made him shiver or moan and cataloging them away.

The fourth time Jim allowed himself to explore Spock's body, tracing his fingers lightly over Spock's creamy white skin and making him make those oh-so arousing inhuman sounds again.

By the fifth time, Jim was a little sore, so he decided to switch it up and used a technique he'd picked up a few years back. It involved more than a little dexterity with his tongue.

Before the sixth time, they stopped to rest, and Jim slept curled against Spock's side, warmth radiating off his newly found lover's body. That time Jim actually got to look Spock in the face, by means of no small feat of contortion on his part.

The seventh time was a bit unorthodox and Jim was mischievously delighted to see that Vulcans could, in fact, completely peak from stimulation of nothing but their hands.

The eighth time finally figured out exactly how to please Jim and stroke his sweet spot, reducing him to nothing more than a panting, begging, gasping heap of ecstasy-intoxicated Human.

The ninth time was slow and took longer than any sack-session that Jim had ever had. It was probably also the best he'd ever had, and he'd had a lot.

The tenth time was quick and fiery again, almost juvenile in the way their desperation showed so plainly. The slept again after that, and Jim was happy not to wake up again until a harsh pounding on the door pulled him back into consciousness.

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A/N: So, there's that! I hope you liked it, and you weren't too disappointed that I didn't describe all ten times they made whoopee (Yes, I went there. Lol) But that would've taken forever. This is already fairly long, by my standards, anyway. So be happy! XP lol. Please review! Thanks! ~