The BLTS Archive - What Are Friends For? by vulcanprincess (vulcanprincess@sbcglobal.net) --- Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. I receive no profits from this. Archiving: THFFF Feedback: Constructive Criticism desired. Beta: None - open to all --- Lieutenant. Uhura looked up from her computer at the sound of the door buzzer. 'Who could it be at this time of night?' she thought. She hit the switch to darken the screen and replied, "Come". She smiled in surprise at the figure standing in her doorway. "Mr. Spock," she greeted him, "what are you doing here so late? Did I miss a lesson?" "No," he replied quietly. "I came by to . . ." he paused before continuing, as if he was unsure of what he wanted to say. "I stopped by to ask you . . ." he stopped and glanced nervously around the corridor. "Why don't you come in," she said moving aside to give him room to enter. When he hesitated, she gently took his arm and pulled him inside. "I am sorry to disturb you. I can see that you are ready for bed. I will leave," he said, turning toward the door, which had now shut behind him. "Mr. Spock, you come to my door at this time of night and then you won't tell me what it is you came to say," she said, blocking his exit. He was behaving in a most unusual manner and she was not about to let him out the door before she found out what he had wanted. "I was not going to bed just yet, in fact, I was working on my communications reports for the week. I would appreciate the interruption, believe me." She had never seen him like this. He had been through a lot the past two weeks. There had been that period where he seemed to be irrational - making course changes without authority and showing open displays of anger and joy. Then the day on the bridge when they all discovered that he was married. Nyota could still see that beautiful cold face. Spock had called her his "wife", but she had apparently decided that was not what she wanted to be. He had returned from Vulcan thinking he had killed his best friend, the Captain, only to find him alive in sickbay. The next week he had spent locked up in his quarters on medical leave. Now he showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. "Lieutenant." he began, "I apologize for coming here so late; however, I wanted to speak to you before . . ." "Before what, Mr. Spock?" "Before I lost my nerve," he said, so quietly she almost didn't catch it. "Lost your nerve?" she said, surprised by this admission. "May I sit down?" he asked, a slight tremor in his voice. "Of course." She bent to remove some paperwork from her couch. "Can I get you anything?" "Tea, perhaps," he replied quietly. She moved to the synthesizer and ordered up tea for him and coffee for herself. When they emerged steaming from the synthesizer, she moved to hand him the saucer. His hands trembled slightly as he took it from her. Now she knew that something was wrong. In all the time she had known him, he had never seemed this . . . well, vulnerable. "Mr. Spock . . ." she began. His hand reaching for hers stopped her from completing her sentence. "Lieutenant, I require your assistance. I realize that I have no right to ask you what I am about to ask, but we have been friends for a long time . . ." He stopped, realizing that his hand holding hers was shaking even more. "Mr. Spock, do you need me to call Dr. McCoy?" she said, with obvious concern in her eyes. He looked up to meet her stare. "There is nothing he can do for me." "What can I do to help?" she asked, the concern in her voice growing. "As I said, I require your assistance . . ." he suddenly stopped, as his hand holding the teacup began to tremble violently. "Mr. Spock," she cried, jumping up to take the cup from his hand. As her hand made contact with his, he pulled back from her as if she had touched him with a hot flame. She took the cup and laid it gently on the desk in front of him. He sat quietly for a moment, waiting for the tremors to stop. "Mr. Spock . . ." she began. "Please, Lieutenant, allow me to finish." He was speaking very softly, but she noticed a rough edge to his voice. "Very well, Mr. Spock, continue," she urged him. He sat and stared at his teacup for a few moments before continuing. "I do not know how much you know about Vulcan . . . biology," he began, the last word coming out with a sigh. "About as much as anyone else," she replied, with a small laugh. "Which translates to - next to nothing." "What I am about to tell you is something that we do not speak of even among ourselves. It is called . . . the Pon Farr. It is our time of mating. Every seven years, we must mate or die." He paused for a moment and looked at her, his deep brown eyes regarding her intently. He took a deep breath and then looked away, starting at his feet on the floor. "It is a time where we lose complete control. Our logic is stripped from us, leaving our raw animalistic natures exposed." "Oh," she whispered. She suddenly took as deep breath as the realization of why he was here struck her. "You came here because you need . . ." she paused, trying to keep her own voice from shaking. "You want me . . . to . ." She stopped, at a loss as to how to finish her sentence. "Precisely," he mumbled. He did not look up at her, instead his eyes remained fixed on the floor. She sat for a moment considering all the implications of this. He was her friend and he was turning to her in his time of need. But surely there were plenty of other women aboard the Enterprise who would be willing to 'help' him. She could think of one right now in Sickbay who would be more than glad to see to his needs. On the other hand, she was the one he had chosen to come to, the one he trusted to help him. And she was also sure that only the comfort of their friendship had allowed him to approach her in this way. She moved over to stand in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "You don't have to explain anything else, Spock," she comforted him. "I will do whatever it takes to get you through this." He put his head down in his hands. "I am sorry. I have no right to take advantage of our friendship in this way," he whispered, his voice barely audibly. She knelt down beside him and took his hands into hers. Reaching up, she brushed away a tear that had escaped from his tightly closed eyes. He seemed to be struggling to maintain control of himself. And she knew that in the end it would be a losing battle. "I am a Vulcan," he whispered to himself, his eyes still closed. "I will not lose control. I am a Vulcan!" He pulled his hands away from her grasp and hit the table violently. She jumped back, momentarily frightened by him. Then, taking a deep breath, she reached out and took his hands back into hers. She could not afford to let his outburst influence her resolve to help him. She looked down at his hands trembling in hers. Bruises were starting to form where they had contacted the table. Greenish blood was seeping from a small wound on one of his knuckles. She grabbed a napkin and placed it over the wound, holding it in place. "Let me get you a bandage," she said, getting up to retrieve the medkit from the bathroom. "I should not have come here," he said, his voice shaking. "I have no right to subject you to this. I apologize." He started to get up from the chair. Reaching out, she pushed him back into the chair. Taking his face in her hands, he pulled his chin up so that he looked her in the eye. "You just sit here and I will be right back," she ordered him, as she would a small child. "I will take care of everything. Do you understand?" She stood in front of him for a moment, but he would not look up to meet her eyes. She thought for a moment that he had not heard her, and then slowly he shook his head indicating 'yes'. She quickly went into the other room and returned a few seconds later with the medkit. She had been afraid he would be gone when she got back, but he was still there. She knelt down on the floor and took his injured hand in hers. Removing the napkin, she gently cleaned the wound and applied antiseptic ointment to it, and then wrapped it in a bandage. Spock remained silent and unmoving while she worked. Having finished, she closed the medkit. Rising up slightly, she took his head back in her hands and softly brushed his lips with hers. He gasped and pulled back from her. "You do not realize what you are dealing with, Lieutenant," he said hoarsely. "Please, I must leave before I injure you. It is becoming obvious I do not possess the ability to control this as I thought I did." "You will do no such thing!" she argued. "You came here for my help and you are getting it. Didn't you say you would die without my assistance?" He paused to consider her statement. "That is correct. However this is not your problem. It is mine. I had no right to involve you in it." "You just made it mine," she informed him. "Now stop arguing with me!" she commanded. He looked up at her as if he was about to protest further, then apparently decided against it "Very well, however, I find myself at a decided disadvantage." He paused for moment, and then continued, " I am at a loss as to how to proceed." It appeared this admission caused him some embarrassment. "You are in luck then," she said, advised him, "because I know very well how to proceed." He sat silently for a moment, biting on the tip of his thumbnail, a habit he had when he was thinking things over. Finally coming to a decision, he looked up to meet her eyes. "What would you have me do?" "Well, don't just sit there," she said, smiling mischievously at him. "Take off your clothes." He looked up at her with a stunned expression. She also noticed that his skin was turning decidedly a darker shade of green. "You do not wish any preliminaries?" he finally managed to ask. "What kind of preliminaries did you have in mind?" she teased. "Again I am at loss as to how to begin this. I have not previously found myself in this situation." "Well, how is this for a start?" she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing her lips down to meet his. His response was awkward at first. 'He wasn't joking about being inexperienced,' she thought. She definitely had her work cut out for her. "It was seem an acceptable beginning," he responded. "Acceptable?" she said, her eyes wide. "I meant no offense," he apologized. "Well, let's just see if we can make it more acceptable," she said, looking at him through long lashes. She knelt down beside his chair, and slid her arms around his waist, then reached up under his shirt to run her nails down his spine. He shivered noticeably. "Next we need to get this out of the way," she said, taking both his shirt and undershirt in her fists and pulling them up over his head in one swift motion. "Mmm, now that's better," she said, running her fingers through the dark hair on his chest." He shivered even more violently this time. She smiled to herself. That she could have this effect on the normally cold analytical First Officer was something she had would never have imagined even in her wildest dreams. She reached to pull him back to her, kissing him more insistently. He did not resist, his lips eagerly seizing hers. She had thought she might have a problem convincing him to follow through on this, but apparently that was not to be the case. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him even closer to her, pressing her body against his chest. As the kiss grew more intense, he began to tear clumsily at her caftan, finally managing to pull it free from her shoulders. She looked down to see her right breast protruding through the shredded fabric. Involuntarily, she tried to cover herself, feeling slightly embarrassed to be so exposed in front of him. He shoved her hands out of the way, tearing the caftan down to her waist and grasping both her breasts roughly in his hands. His breath was beginning to come in ragged gasps. He ripped away the rest of the caftan from her body, and then threw her roughly onto the fur rug on the floor. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to resist. She had no problem with rough sex, but this was moving way too fast. Wasn't he the one who had been concerned about preliminaries a few moments ago? She looked up at him, from where she lay naked at his feet, only the torn bits of her ruined caftan inadequately covering her. She flushed deeply as she met his intense stare. He was no longer the gentle shy Vulcan he had been moments before. This was the other side of himself, the side that Vulcans kept tightly under control. She felt fear and something else rise up in her - something almost erotic. She knew he was about to take in her in what amounted to an animalistic coupling, yet it excited her. She was finding it hard to breathe. She watched as he quickly divested himself of the rest of his clothing. 'God, he was beautiful,' she thought. She remembered all the times on the bridge she had undressed him in her mind. She had never really been serious, just silly daydreams. And now here he was, completely naked, standing over her. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw his erection protruding hard and thick before her. She felt the rumble of an orgasm begin deep in her abdomen and spread over her body as she realized that he was about to impale her with it. Her eyes grew larger as his organ swelled to dimensions she could not, would not have dreamed possible. She gasped as he knelt down to roughly push her legs apart, holding them firmly apart with his knees. Then before she could take another breath, he mounted her, pushing his enormous organ forcibly against her opening. She cried out for mercy, but he only pushed harder against her. She struggled to get out from under him, realizing too late that this was going to be nothing less than forcible rape. He grabbed her wrists to stop her struggles and pulled them up over her head, pinning her helplessly to the floor. She tried uselessly to squirm out of his vise like grip, but it was useless. His strength was more than a match for hers. She thought of several nasty little tricks she could try, but then realize that she could not bring herself to use them against him. After all, she had volunteered for this, hadn't she? It was too late to turn back now. She was going to have to see it through. No matter what his present condition, this was still Spock and he would die unless she allowed him to use her in this way. She cried out in pain as he found the entry he sought, and with one swift tearing motion forced the head of his rock hard penis inside her opening. She wanted to cry out to him that she was not ready. However, when she looked up pleadingly into his eyes, she saw that they were glazed over and unfocused. She was not sure if he was even aware of where he was or whom he was with. His only interest lay in what was between her legs. She realized, in his present state, she was just there to meet his needs. She gasped as he continued to pound mercilessly against her. She closed her eyes and held back the sobs, frightened that he would tear her apart in his primal lust to penetrate her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he continued his frenzied thrusting. His skin had always felt hot to her, but now he seemed to be on fire. She lifted her legs up and wrapped them around his back, in an effort to give him easier access to her bruised opening. She muffled a scream as he fully managed to enter her, ramming his engorged organ deeply inside her. Again and again he plunged into her, hurting and tearing at her delicate tissues. She was sobbing in spite of herself. She had heard whispered stories of human women in the hands of Vulcan men in rut, but had always written them off as sexual fantasies. Now, however, she realized how much truth there was in those stories. She dug her nails into his back as he rode her mercilessly. Over and over he penetrated into her depths. Each thrust deeper and stronger than the last. She felt herself on the verge of losing consciousness when suddenly; he withdrew from her and then plunged back in pinning her hard against the floor, his penis seeming to swell to twice its size inside her. Hot liquid bathed her inner walls, filling her and overflowing onto the rug beneath them. She breathed a sigh of relief that it was over. She attempted to shift his weight off her. He growled angrily, looking down at her with what could only be termed animal lust in his eyes. She became suddenly aware that he was hard inside her again. Tears escaped her eyes, as the thrusting began anew and he pounded into her with renewed intensity. --- Hours later, he rolled off her onto his back on the floor, his breath coming in gasps. He shuddered a few times, turned over onto his side, and within seconds had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Gingerly she tried to sit up, but unbearable pain shot through her. She lay still waiting for the spasm to subside. She had to get to the bathroom and assess the damage. Gradually she was able to pull herself up, her hands clutching her stomach. She made her way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she was about to get into the stall, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Bite marks and bruises covered her upper body. Her thighs were coated with a mixture of blood and semen. She quickly jumped into the shower, letting the hot water beat against her battered body. Hesitantly, she reached between her legs and touched her raw genital area. She gasped in pain as her fingers came into contact with the abused flesh. Fortunately, the bleeding seemed to have subsided. Other than being raw and sore, she did not detect any major damage. She finished cleaning up, grateful that she had had the foresight to requisition a shower with real water. Wrapping herself in a towel, she went back to where Spock lay; still sound asleep on the floor of her cabin. He was curled up on his side, the rug they had lain on clenched in his fists. She walked quietly past him, trying not to disturb him and went to the desk to retrieve the medkit Opening it as silently as possible, she removed the antibiotic cream. The cool cream felt good against her as she applied it to her fevered private parts. Returning to the bathroom, she wet a towel and took it back to try and clean him up. He stirred under her touch. She held her breath as she slowly pulled the soiled rug out from under him. He moaned softly in his sleep, but did not awaken. Then exhausted herself, she stumbled to her bed and lay down, falling into an troubled sleep filled with images of a larger than life Spock, his eyes wild with lust, chasing her through the corridors of the ship. Just as she thought she had escaped him, he appeared out of nowhere, his hands reaching to roughly caress her body. Her attempt to scream was cut off by his hand, clamping down tightly over her mouth. His eyes gleamed with murderous rage. She felt his hand move down to her throat. She struggled in his grip, trying to free herself. She felt a heavy weight on her chest as he forced her up against the cold steel of the corridor wall. --- Uhura awoke to find herself in her own bed, her heart still thudding. She opened her eyes to see Spock, straddled atop her, primal lust once again in his eyes. He snarled and ripped the towel off of her body, throwing it across the room to hit the wall on the opposite side. She forced herself to relax as he brutally pushed her legs apart and with one quick thrust buried himself in her to the hilt. She cried out in pain as he made contact with her already abraded flesh. He ignored her cries and began thrusting violently into her once more. She reached up to touch his cheek, thinking perhaps she should somehow penetrate the madness and bring the Spock she knew back to the surface. But the face that stared back at her was not the gentle Spock she had known. It was the face of a maddened animal intent only on copulation. There was not indication of any intelligence or reason in his face, only animal instinct. He was apparently far into the madness. She knew she was at his mercy and could only ride this out. It seemed an eternity before he rolled off of her again and fell back into an exhausted sleep. Retrieving the towel, she wrapped herself up in it, feeling the comforting softness of it against her sore and battered body. She slid down, her back against the wall, assuming a fetal position, rocking back and forth, as tears began escaping down her cheeks. She had no idea how long this madness would last, how much more she would have to endure. But somehow she had to get through this for Spock's sake. Her body ached unbearably, but her that was nothing compared to her the pain she knew Spock would experience when he came to himself and realized what he had done to her. Part of her wished she had turned him down and asked him to find someone else, but another part of her reached out to him in the pain he was obviously in. He had no concept of what he was doing. The Spock she had known for years was buried deep beneath this madness, as much a captive to this insanity as she was. She held tightly to her knees as the tears gave way to violently sobbing. The pain and stress of the ordeal washed over her. It would be so easy to get up now and walk out, leaving him here - this animal who could force himself repeatedly on her without any concern for her pain. But she could not leave Spock to die - sweet gentle Spock who had so patiently taught her to play the lyre, Spock with whom she had shared lunch, Spock whom she had coaxed to accompany her singing in the Rec room. To leave him here to die, no she could not even contemplate doing such a thing. She had told him she would take care of him and if that meant she had to endure repeated brutal rapes, then that is what she would do. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud moan from the bed. Spock had apparently awaken and found her missing. His eyes were wide with panic. So it was about to start again. Having made her decision, she took a deep breath, letting the towel fall to the floor. "I am here, Spock," she whispered, climbing back into the bed with him. As he hungrily reached for her, she moved into his arms, holding tightly to his neck. Closing her eyes, she prepared herself for the ordeal to come. The ordeal they would endure together. --- Spock opened his eyes and looked around the room. He tried to sit up but was overcome by dizziness. His mouth was dry as if he had gone days without water. He was vaguely aware that he was not in his own quarters. Gradually the fog in his head lifted and he became aware of an occupant in the bed beside him. He rolled over slowly, his breath catching in his throat as nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He reached out to touch the sleeping form beside him. Uhura stirred under his touch and looked up at him. Her eyes widened with panic at the sight of him leaning over her. "You do not have to be frightened, Lieutenant," he said. " I can assure you the madness is completely gone." "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly. She gazed up intently in his eyes, searching for any remaining signs of the madness. She was relieved to see that his eyes were clear and focused again. Evidence that the Pon farr had resolved. "Affirmative," he replied, looking quickly away from her intense stare. The pain she had been through was still very evident in her eyes - pain and something else. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was fear he saw in her eyes. She was afraid of him. In all the time he had known her, she had never been frightened of him. Even when he, as her superior officer, had called her on the carpet for some minor inefficiency he perceived on her part. She had always stood up to him, often vehemently arguing her case. He could sense that something was different now and he was well aware that this change in her was his fault. He observed her silently for a moment, scrutinizing her carefully, his eyes full of concern. She looked exhausted in spite of the long sleep they had both had. "If I injured you in any way, I am deeply sorry." "I am fine," she whispered. She moved slightly, her breath catching in her throat as a wave of pain shot through her. He immediately reached out to assist her. She pulled away from him, whimpering slightly at his touch. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I only meant to help you up." "I know," she replied. Taking hold of the dresser by the bed, she attempted to pull herself. As she did so, she felt a sharp pain in her ribcage that took her breath away. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself into an upright position. "You are injured," he said, alarm evident in his voice. "Do you wish me to take you to Sickbay?" "Now that would really start the gossip, wouldn't it?" she managed to say, closing her eyes as the room began to swim around her. He reached out a hand to steady her but she weakly pushed him away. "I will be fine. I am just a little sore." Then added, as another spasm of pain hit her, "No make that a lot sore." "I can call Doctor McCoy if you wish me to," he said, eyeing her with even more worry in his eyes. "It is obvious you require medical assistance." He reached for her once again, but she pulled out of his grasp. As she did so, the towel she had wrapped around her dropped to the floor. She reached down to retrieve the towel and hastily cover herself, but not before he was made aware of the full impact of what he had done to her. Her body was covered with bruises and bite marks. He could still see his handprints on her upper arms. Her thighs bore the imprint of his knees where he had forcefully pinned her legs apart. He stared in horror at the visual evidence of the physical brutality she had suffered at his hands. And what of the emotional damage he had caused? He could not even begin to comprehend that. She looked over at him with tear filled eyes. "Please leave, just leave," she begged him. "Nyota," he began, raw pain on his usually expressionless face. "I am sorry. I should never have come here. Never have asked of you what I did. I was aware it would not be a pleasant experience for you, but I had no idea it would be like. . this." He paused, suddenly at a loss for words. He closed his eyes tightly, holding back tears of shame that threatened to come to the surface. "I would never intentionally harm you in such a manner. There is no way that I can make amends for what I have done. If you wish, I will turn myself into the Captain." "No!" she shouted at him. "I've just spent two days going through hell to save you. You are not going to throw that away!" He raised an eyebrow at her, seemingly confused. "I am not blaming you," she continued. "I was the one who told you to stay. I was the one who promised to see you through this." "And you did a very good job of that," he said, interrupted. "I am eternally in your debt." "You don't owe me anything," she replied, managing a weak smile. "What are friends for? I am just glad I was there when you needed me. I really am. I just need time to deal with all this. I really need to be alone right now. Please try and understand." "I do understand," he said, continuing to regard her intently. "Are you sure you will be all right?" She nodded her head. "I will be fine," she assured him. "You will let me know if you need anything?" he asked, reaching to retrieve his clothing from the pile on the floor. "I promise. Now go!" she urged him. Slipping on his clothing , he turned and reluctantly headed out the door. Once alone, she sank down on the soiled rug on the floor. Unable to hold them any longer, the tears began, turning into violent sobs as she released the anger, humiliation and shame of the past few days. --- The End