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She shouldn’t continue giving chase when Spock so clearly wished to be left alone, but with the burning imprint of his grip still wrapped around her wrist Christine felt helpless in her urges. Wanting him was neither new nor unfamiliar, but something in his rage had spoken to her in a language she had not anticipated and so could not fight against.
There was risk in the chase; a friendship that meant so much might shatter under whatever came next, but also she was no match for his strength on a good day, and today had been anything but that.
Using her medical override on his door was perhaps a bridge too far, but when he didn’t answer she was left with only unwise choices.
“Get out.” Spock stood motionless in the center of his living space, a wrathful vibration in a sea of perfect calm. Her care and affection had been a balm to his rage for a brief moment in the hallway, but the ghost of connection had faded once her touch was gone and he did not know if he wanted it back. “You should not be here.”
“Spock you don’t have to go through this alone.” Christine stepped closer until she was just outside of his reach, finally, finally the little voice in her head whispering a warning.
“I do not possess control,” He warned again. “It is unwise for you to remain.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” She said softly, and the warning voice grew louder.
“You should be.”
He moved fast, forcing her to take several blind steps backward until she hit the wall where she was immediately caged in. She never considered him a large man before, but trapped in the heat of his body Christine felt small and helpless; prey.
“I do not wish to hurt you, Christine.” He said, letting his forehead drop to rest softly on her shoulder. “And yet I find myself wanting hurtful things.” With the smallest shift he brought the edge of his teeth to rest just over the collar of her uniform where her heartbeat raced under her skin. “A dichotomy I am unfamiliar with.”
“I am not afraid of you.” She said again, “I trust you.”
Spock drew back to stare down at her face and Christine did her best to hold his gaze. After a long moment he leaned back in, catching the edge of her jaw with his nose until she turned her face entirely away from him. The first catch of his teeth had her suck in a gasping breath, punched out of her in a moan when he bit down in earnest.
When she tried to touch him he snarled, grabbing her wrists and pinning her arms against the wall, but the motion pressed them together from hip to knee. His thigh pressed against hers and with that warning voice sputtering she shifted one knee up over his hip to draw them closer.
“You have thought about this before.” He said, pushing his thigh against the helpless twitching of her hips before dropping her hands and stepping back out of reach. “I can not be what you need at this moment.”
“I can be what you need.”
Spock turned away from the spectacle of her flushed cheeks and softly heaving chest. He stopped at the foot of his bed and considered all the possibilities of what might happen next.
“Come here and take off your clothes.”
He removed his own uniform with his usual care, but the boiling tension was returning, making his movements sharp and his mind slow. Before he was aware of her movement, Christine stood naked beside him looking down at the regulation perfection of his bed.
“Tell me what you need.” She urged him.
“Control.” He said finally, “I can not…you must not…”
“I understand.” She dropped her questing hand and turned to face him. “What would you like me to do?”
“Lay down on the bed please.”
His body was so much hotter without the layers of cloth between them and Christine was helpless to do anything but lie back and trust. He put himself on all fours above her, caging her pale thighs between his knees. Using his nose to guide her chin he set his teeth to the as yet neglected side of her neck and the resulting moan sent all questions far from his mind.
The smooth porcelain of her skin against his own had gone from balm to tinder, the little ghosts of her thoughts like whispers in the next room washed over and away as he slid one knee and then the other between hers. The slow roll of his body pinning her down in inches was torment, lines of heat from her pussy to her breasts and finally the gentle exhale of his breath against her mouth.
Somehow she had not expected him to kiss her, but he seemed to delight in drinking the little gasping breaths from her mouth. His hands were hard, his fingers seeking out every softness she had not managed to train her body out of; the small swell of her breasts, the curve at her hips, until he found the inside of her thighs and the dripping wetness of her pussy she could no more control than the turning of stars.
“You have thought about this before.” He chuckled darkly, fingers teasing just along the edges of her labia. “Tell me Christine is this what you imagined?”
“No.” She admitted, gasping when he trailed a single finger through her slit.
“No.” He agreed, using his arms to propel himself downward. He stopped with his chin resting just above the thatch of her pubic hair. With an almost romantic sigh he kissed over her right hip bone, waiting for her little gasp before he sunk his teeth into the curve of it, sucking hard until her gasp turned into a cry.
“Spock!”
With a predator’s swiftness he moved lower still, lifting her hips and diving tongue first into the soaked spread of her pussy. The edge of his teeth caught her again and again, soothed quickly by the lap of his tongue until Christine was a trembling livewire on the edge of an abyss. He drew back just as she was about to tip over, teasing the edge of her clenching hole with the tip of a single finger.
Twice more he brought her to the edge and pulled back before she could climax, laughing with every inventive threat that spilled from her mouth.
“Spock please”, she begged, straining on her toes to push her hips up at him. “I can’t take any more.”
“As you wish.”
He thrust two long fingers deep in her pussy before taking her swollen clit in his mouth and sucking hard until his teeth strained against her skin and the high thread of her cries shattered above and beneath him. Her pussy was a slash of red between her thighs as he sat back to admire his work; she flinched as he slowly pulled his fingers free, overstimulated and aching.
In a moment of inspiration, Spock tugged and pulled her upright, manhandling her around until Christine knelt in the middle of the bed bent nearly in half so she could grip the headboard in front of her. His cock sat hot and hard against her ass for a moment before he shifted his hips and fed the entire thick length of it deep in her already tender pussy.
She cried out, unable to help herself, but the sounds only seemed to spur him on. From this angle he was everywhere inside her, far past the edge of too much, over pain and onto something else entirely. He was relentless, the precisely measured slap of his hips against her ass fighting the grip of his hands on hips kept her locked in a purgatory of burning muscles in her thighs, her shoulders. The wet slide of his cock in her pussy louder than her little punched out cries and his impossibly steady breaths.
His breathing changed after what had begun to feel like a lifetime and Christine let her head sag down between her stretched out arms. He couldn’t allow himself to finish without bringing her off on his cock though, so Spock ignored the twitching buck of her hips and began rubbing his fingers against the tender nub of her clit.
“I can’t,” Christine gasped, “Spock I can’t.”
“You will.” He changed his speed then, hips pumping faster while his fingers kept a smooth and gentle circle. “Do not fight me, Christine.”
Relentless.
By the time she came, half-blind and smothering her louder cries into the bend of her elbow, Christine felt raw, utterly undone, and it was a relief to feel him come inside her. As his grip softened she was able to collapse slowly down onto her belly, legs in an ungainly sprawl as Spock eased back and away from her body.
“That was…” He began, struggling for words now the poison in his blood had been so successfully drawn out.
“Spock,” She groaned, turning her face away from the pillow half smothering her. “I think we can leave the dissection of this one until I get all my limbs working right.”
“Of course.” He nodded, already falling back into his familiar calm. “I will bring you a cloth and perhaps a glass of water?”
“That’d be great,” She mumbled, fighting the sudden need for sleep.
She was in fact entirely asleep when he returned barely two minutes later, so Spock set the glass on the side table and used the cloth himself to gently clean away the messier evidence of what they had done. As he would require mediation more than sleep after the day’s events, Spock elected to leave Christine to her slumber, pulling the twisted blanket out from under her and tucking her in with the care she deserved.