Title: Saviour
Author: Servatia
Rating: I’d say NC-17
Series: TOS
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the universe. Hell, I don’t even
own the
song that gave the title.
Warning: Sex delivered in a linguistic experiment.
Summary: I could never quite believe that a bit of fighting in the
sand
can soothe the pon farr. So someone must have taken care of Spock. Take note
that in my head-canon Vulcans are actually cooler than humans. The scientist by
inheritance if not by degree inside me refuses to imagine them warmer, given
all we know about them.
Warm. So incredibly
warm, seeming warmer and warmer now the fever is abating. So exquisite it is
almost possible to forget to move. Almost. All that matters is the surrounding
heat. The scent of human sweat. The thick, warm fluid dribbling from you, from my
saviour. This isn’t a sacrifice, as it had seemed at first. Needed, yes, but clearly
this need goes two ways. Your red blood doesn’t make its demands anywhere nearly
as fiercely as the green one scorching through my veins, but the tangible desperation
it not mine. It belongs you, my human, my incredible, irritating, bright human,
now straddling me, clutching me, saving me.
My eyes open when the
other senses aren’t enough. They meet bright blue. My name tumbles from your
swollen lips before they lock to mine, our saliva mingling, our tongues dancing
wildly. Perhaps if the imminent explosion within me is contained, refused, this
will last forever.
Words in a strange language,
learned long ago and spoken more perfectly than by many natives, now fall
opaque, irrelevant in this world of need. But even if the words aren’t clear,
the intent is. The explosion will not mark an ending. It will be but the start,
and it can no longer be stalled. Blue eyes close at the peak of your pleasure,
and the sensation that spreads to me tears the release from my loins, ending
the pain.
You can leave, but
you do not. Uncertainty fills me. Yours, not mine.
I am certain. I hold
you. And you smile.