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*****

Amok Time Lord, Part 1

Keywords: human vulcan time lord spock kirk Doctor captain jack harkness k/s kirk/spock jack/spock Doctor/spock Doctor/jack m/m male gay feline cat Caitian dr who star trek pon farr heat frottage telepathy mind meld kissing science fiction sci-fi transformation TARDIS crossover fanfiction slash

*****

Introduction

*****

And now for something completely different.

First, some back story. Before I drew furry art, I wrote Star Trek fanfiction-- mostly erotica about Kirk and Spock as lovers. And, sexually speaking, I'm still more of a Trekkie than a furry.

I love drawing furry art because it's fun, and popular, and allows for more creativity than writing stories about someone else's characters. But when it comes to getting myself sexually aroused, I always seem to come back to Star Trek. Specifically, Vulcans.

I've had the hots for Spock since I was 13. That's been-- god, almost 20 years. And in that time, I've gone through every fantasy I could possibly put him in. TOS-era Spock will never stop being sexy, but for me, his sex appeal has worn out just enough that I'm starting to consider other science fiction characters to fantasize about.

So when Zmey and I started watching Doctor Who, my libido latched onto the tenth Doctor and wouldn't let him go. But, as always, my Star Trek fetish insisted on getting involved.

When I have sexual fantasies about people-- even people who are as un-Vulcan as you can get-- I always end up imagining them in pon farr. That's the Vulcan mating season, as described in the Original Series episode "Amok Time" and a few other points in the show. When that time rolls around, normally logical Vulcans go insane with sex drive, and have to mate in order to stay alive. To me, it's one of the hottest things ever. Yes, I know, I'm a pervert-- but I'm a happy one.

So, here's the first piece of written work I've ever posted on this site: my furry/Star Trek/Doctor Who crossover story. It has Spock and Kirk and the tenth Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness, and weird alien genitals, and transformation and pon farr, and cat people from both the Star Trek universe and the Doctor Who universe. (I just had to have cat people-- they're the only furries that exist in both Star Trek and Doctor Who! Except, the ones in Star Trek are only in the Animated Series, which no one watches-- but whatever.)

For Spock, the story takes place during the episode "Amok Time." For the Doctor, it takes place just after "The Waters of Mars." The Doctor and Spock clearly live in different universes. In the episode that first introduces Jack Harkness, the Doctor and Rose actually mention Star Trek a little-- in their universe, like ours, it's just a TV show. But in this story the two universes collide.

I have years of experience with sex stories about Spock, but I've never read any Doctor Who fanfiction at all. I don't know what the cliches are. I don't know if there's any fan consensus on what a Time Lord's naughty bits look like. I made it all up, in my head one morning as I was lying in bed fantasizing. And then I told Zmey about it, and he convinced me to make it into a story.

*****

"How do you figure it, Chekov?" Sulu leaned over from the helm, a long-suffering smile on his face. "First we're headed to Altair. Then we're headed to Vulcan. And now we're headed back to Altair."

Chekov rolled his eyes. "I think I'm going to get space-sick."

There was a quiet moment on the bridge, neither crewman feeling sure how to react to the strange series of orders. Something was going on with the half-Vulcan first officer, that much was certain-- something so important that the captain didn't seem to know whether to set course for Mr. Spock's home planet or the inauguration they were scheduled to attend on Altair Six. But only Captain Kirk knew exactly what the deal was, and maybe even he didn't know for sure. Spock was a closed book sometimes, even to his best friends.

"It's got something to do with Mr. Spock, I know that," Sulu said, leaning toward Chekov again. "He's been acting strange. Everyone says so."

"You're telling me." Chekov's voice lowered a decibel. "I saw him walking to his quarters last night, and--" the last words were almost a whisper-- "he had a hard-on."

Sulu made a noise that was half-gasp, half-laugh, drawing a curious glance from some of their crewmates. "Pavel, what do you think this is, high school?" he whispered back. "You can't say that sort of thing on the bridge!" As he regained composure, though, his eyebrows went up. "Seriously, though? Mr. Spock? Well... he's a guy too, I guess. It happens to all of us."

"I am betting you, it's been a long time since he got laid," Chekov muttered. "If he's acting crazy, I am betting you it is because of that. It's not good to keep that bottled up. As one of my Russian ancestors said... if there is a gun, it has to be fired... or something like that."

*****

The TARDIS floated in orbit around Mars. The door was open, the Doctor staring out through the protective forcefield around it. Below, on the planet's surface, the explosion of the base went on, unstoppable. The burning cast reddish light across his face, even at this distance.

He had rescued the base's commander and brought her back to Earth, only to bear witness to her suicide. And no matter how many times he traveled back to this moment, he would never be able to stop the explosion, would never be able to save everyone. It was destined, a fixed point in time. He had come back this time just to look at it, for a few minutes, before he moved on. It seemed he was morbidly fascinated at both the event itself and the unnatural compulsion he had acted on, trying to interfere in something destined and fixed.

And then, above him in the sky, he saw something completely undestined and unfixed. "What?" he blurted, craning his neck, his mouth hanging open.

It was a small spacecraft, not of Earth origin, not of any origin the Doctor recognized-- burnt and torn apart, hurtling toward the Martian atmosphere. Streaks of fire trailed after its small roundish body, as it vented and burned its own air supply. The Doctor staggered back a few steps as he stared up at it, watching it fill more and more of his field of vision every millisecond.

It was, in fact, on a course that would pass uncomfortably close to the TARDIS. He was giving serious thought to moving out of the way, when he noticed that the door of that spacecraft was open too. A silhouette was standing in it, barely visible at its great speed-- a humanoid figure, waving both arms at him.

He didn't have much more time to think before the small ship was whooshing past him, and the man was leaping out across the space between them to land inside the TARDIS-- face down, on the floor, on top of him, knocking him onto his back.

"What?!" said the Doctor again, before blinking and focusing his eyes on the face of Captain Jack Harkness.

*****

Jack tried to slow his breathing, as his mind adjusted to being free from his crashing shuttle and inside the TARDIS. He hadn't meant to land in this position-- god, a sexy Time Lord body underneath him was a distraction he could do without, right now, pleasurable as it was. "Sorry," he muttered, trying to get up, but still too shaky with the adrenaline from those last few moments when he'd thought he was going to burn up in the atmosphere, along with the shuttle.

Of course, probably even that couldn't have killed him. All too easily he could picture himself stepping unscathed from the dust and molten metal of a crashed ship's remains. There was no way to know if he was completely immortal; he only knew what hadn't killed him so far. But ever since that bizarre resurrection after Rose had looked into the heart of the TARDIS, there were a shitload of things that hadn't been able to kill him.

And, god, it felt good to be here. Forget the eye-candy of being able to look at the Doctor again, forget the feeling of that hot lean body under his own-- really, try and forget it, Jack thought to himself; don't focus on what you can't have-- but just being in the presence of that brilliant mind made him feel safer already.

It had been a long few weeks, being tied up in chairs and strapped down on tables and locked up in cells, with that lunatic geneticist stepping in every few hours to inject him with things and take tissue samples. The thought of his invulnerability hadn't been much comfort throughout that time-- an endless life wasn't much fun if you spent it imprisoned.

But if there was anyone who could just plain laugh in ridicule at an enemy who tried to keep someone locked up, it was the Doctor. Gratitude and affection warmed Jack's whole body, and again he tried to get up, hoping the warm feelings wouldn't turn into more noticeable physical reactions. The Doctor felt way too good underneath him, and it had been too long since Jack had had sex. As soon as the Doctor got him somewhere safe, he'd have to find someone and get laid right away.

As soon as he got somewhere safe. The warm feeling grew. He knew he was going to be safe now, just because of who he was with. No matter what happened, the Doctor would help him find a way to fix this whole crazy mess. He always did.

*****

The Doctor was still staring up at Jack, nothing in his mind but bafflement. Finally he managed to get his bearings, and wriggled backwards, scooting out from under the human. "For God's sake, Jack, what's going on?"

"Not even a hello, huh?" Jack gave a rueful smile. "What's going on? Well, I'm running. The guy chasing me-- he's way too good at finding me. He's found me a bunch of times already, and last time he got in a few fatal shots before I managed to warp my shuttle here. I use the phrase 'my shuttle' a bit loosely, mind you, since I stole it from him." The captain's mouth twisted up on one side, and he sat up, one leg outstretched in front of him, one bent at the knee with his arm resting on it. "So what's been going on with you?"

The Doctor started to stand up. "Oh, I've had plenty of things happening in my life. Thanks so much for adding to the excitement; I've now got more fun than I know what to do with." He kept staring at Jack. The human was wearing his usual outfit, the suspenders and the long black coat, and there was a worn-looking knapsack on his back, probably containing whatever basic necessities he'd been running with. "Is that why he was chasing you? Because you stole his shuttle?"

"No, he's chasing me because he wants to do genetic experiments on me." Jack stood up, took off his knapsack and set it on the floor. Meanwhile his eyes were giving the Doctor's body a once-over, slowly trailing up from his legs to his face, making lengthy pauses at various points in between.

The Time Lord turned away, his face heating. It was scandalous, how blatant Jack was when he felt attraction. No wonder he appealed so much to every adventurous human he met. Hell, if the Doctor had been a human, he could even imagine himself responding.

But-- his face burned hotter, and he shook his head to get the thoughts out. He wasn't a human; he was a Time Lord on his tenth life, and that life was about to end. Even the thought of intimacy tasted like ashes now. "Well," he muttered, still not looking at Jack fully. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"I'm not sure." Jack shrugged. "His ship has equipment that can gene-scan a whole planet and find a specific person, so hiding from him isn't easy. Maybe I'll be able to manage it now that he doesn't have the shuttle to scan for as well. I was hoping you might have some ideas."

"Well," the Doctor said, leaning against the central console of the TARDIS. "Well. I don't suppose he can time-travel, can he?"

"I like the way you think!" Jack grinned and pointed a finger at him. "No, I'm pretty sure he can't. And I'm even more sure that he couldn't figure out what time we'd gone to, once we'd made the jump."

"Well, all right then." The Doctor could still feel Jack looking at him, making his skin burn with self-consciousness. "I suppose we'll be off, then. Where and when would you like to go? Any preferences?"

But just then, an alarm erupted from the console, and one screen flashed with a red-lettered warning. The Doctor gripped the monitor on both its sides, staring at the readout. "What? Unidentified craft approaching?"

"Oh, shit, hurry up before it's too late." Jack rushed to the Doctor's side, looking at the console as if wishing he could set the coordinates himself.

The Doctor's eyes darted toward him-- then he did a double take, staring at Jack's face more closely.

If it was still Jack's face. The Time Lord's mouth hung open. "My God! What happened to you?"

In the last minute, the human eyes had brightened to an impossible shade of green, with vertical slits for pupils. The indentation above the upper lip had deepened until it formed a distinct line from nose to mouth. And the nose itself had taken on the appearance of a downward-pointing pink triangle. Otherwise, the features were the same, but the change was jarring to say the least.

Jack gave a grimace that showed unusually small front teeth and unusually long canines. "It's a long story. And I apologize if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing you're not really interested in a long story right now, since there's probably a crazed geneticist outside with a universal transporter aimed at your ship."

"A what?!" The Doctor leapt to his feet, then fell back down, because at that moment the TARDIS shuddered as if time and space themselves were ripping apart around it. The heaving of the great machine tossed them both across the floor like toys, grabbing hold of anything they could.

When the chaos died down, Jack found his way to the wall by the door and sat up, leaning back against it. "That would be the universal transporter," he said.

The Doctor scrambled back to his feet and ran from side to side of the console, pressing switches and glaring at displays. When he realized what had happened, a wave of panic ran through him.

"They can't do that!" he shouted, grabbing one small monitor with both hands. "What, do people think they can just walk into a shop and buy a new time-space continuum after they've wrecked this one? You can't just go round sending people into other universes! It--"

"--Tears the fabric of time and space. I know." Jack folded his arms. "And yet he did it."

"Who's he? Never mind, I don't want to know right now." The Doctor threw a switch that didn't seem to help much, because the TARDIS responded by rocking and pitching like a ship in a storm. "Hell, I can't even get us to materialize properly. Let me--"

"He's a geneticist," the captain replied to the withdrawn question. "Name of M'Rai. He calls himself a Caitian."

The Doctor hung on to a lever until the rocking quieted somewhat. "A what? Is that a species?"

"I guess so. You haven't heard of it?"

"Never. What did he look like?"

Jack gestured to his own transmogrified eyes and nose. "Like this, only more so. At least when his perception filter was off."

The floor began to vibrate, and Jack lay down on his side, seeming to decide that sitting upright wasn't worth the effort. "He got involved with some scientists on Earth, who seemed to be taking some of the first steps toward genetically altering humans. He kept trying to influence them. The guy's pretty insane, Doctor. His one goal in life seems to be convincing everyone in the universe to alter themselves to look like him. Not just this universe, either, but every universe."

The vibration grew to something like an earthquake, and the two of them hung on to furniture and pillars for dear life. "Okay," the Doctor shouted. "All right, I can see why he took an interest in doing experiments on you-- probably thought you'd be a fascinating genetic subject, what with your inability to die and all. Totally wrong, of course, since that's got nothing to do with your genes, but he couldn't have known that. And given his mentality, I can understand the way he changed your appearance, though I would have expected him to go further with it. Still, what I don't understand is--"

"I think he did mean to go further with it," Jack called out, rolling across the floor. "And I think he succeeded. It's just that with some of his subjects, it's a slow transition." He landed in a corner. "It's been starting over the last minute or so. My nose was the first thing to change. Second was a part you can't see right now--"

The Doctor rubbed his head with the heel of his hand as the quake began to subside. "I'm terribly sorry, Jack, but now is not the time to start having a chat about your feline genitalia."

The sharp teeth showed in another grin. "Are you sure? They're really interesting. I'd even let you touch them."

"I'm sure." The Doctor's hands seized another lever, and the tremor of the floor was replaced with another bout of rocking motion. Was Jack's inexplicable transformation actually making him more lewd? God, this was as distracting as all hell. "I'm sure they're fascinating. I'm sure it's marvelously huge, and I'm sure my scrawny arse is far too small for you."

Jack's cat eyes glinted. "I bet it's bigger on the inside."

Blushing heat made the Doctor's face burn. "Oh, like I haven't heard that one before."

"You have? Really?" Jack's forehead wrinkled, though the motion didn't seem to work so well now that his face had changed. To the Doctor, it seemed that he'd become even more catlike in the last few seconds: his hairline had lowered, his forehead was broader and his chin smaller, and the bridge of his nose had become narrower and more defined, like two graceful lines coming down from the inner corners of his eyes. It actually looked rather sexy on him--

The Doctor shrugged, a vigorous motion like trying to shake something off his shoulders, as he struggled not to let himself think about anything except materializing the TARDIS. "I meet a lot of people. I've heard everything."

The captain lay down on his stomach, resting his chin on his hand-- was it a hand, the Time Lord wondered, or a paw? Well, it still had opposable digits, so he was going to think of it as a hand, even if it was growing claws and fur and paw-pads. The pads looked so soft--

Bloody hell, stop thinking things like that! Was he obsessing on Jack's sex appeal just because it made him feel alive, now that he was about to die any day? Well, it was no use; getting turned on by a human wasn't going to save his life. Death was still going to knock four times and then take him.

"Besides," Jack went on, "I never said I wanted your ass anyway. There are so many different acts of love to choose from..." The voice sounded far too seductive, as if even Jack's vocal cords were transforming so they could purr.

The rocking of the floor intensified. "I'm sure there are," said the Doctor, turning a knob with one hand and scrolling through a readout on a screen with the other, while trying to stay on his feet. "But right now, I can't really focus on that, because I'm trying to--"

The rocking slowed, and for the first time in ten minutes, the floor seemed solid.

"--Land the TARDIS," he finished.

*****

The floor hadn't shaken for five minutes now.

"So," Captain Jack Harkness said, getting to his feet. "You-- materialized us?"

"Yes. Yes, I did." The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, feeling a headache coming on. "That bumpy ride was a trip into another universe, all right-- but the trouble is, I've got no idea what universe, or where in it, or how to get back. The question I was about to ask, when you interrupted me to talk about your naughty bits, was-- have you got any idea why, exactly, M'Rai the mad Caitian geneticist decided to send the two of us to another universe?"

Jack shrugged. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's his universe."

The Doctor felt his eyebrows draw together. "His universe? And why would you guess that?"

"Because he told me."

"Ah."

"Basically," Jack continued, "he hunted me down, tied me up, experimented on me, injected me with the-- the cat stuff-- and then he told me he was from another universe, and he was going to take me back there to keep me as his own personal research subject, or something." He rubbed the side of his face. The fur was all around his jaw and chin by now, sleek tabby-patterned fur, leaving only a small hairless patch around his nose. "I escaped, stole a shuttle, and ran. He chased me. He was still chasing me when I found you. I suppose he dragged you along into this universe just because you happened to be in the same box as me."

The Doctor made a face. "No, you happened to be in the same box as me. It's my box." His eyes burned as he glared at Jack. "Why the hell did you have to get me involved in your problems? I've got problems of my own, you know." The thought of the prophecy tingled in the back of his mind, the four knocks that would signal his death, probably very soon. Jack didn't know the half of it, really. God, the Doctor really didn't need anything more to fuck up his life right now. But nobody ever asked him before they dumped more trouble in his lap.

Jack stared at the floor. "If I hadn't found you, he would still have brought me back to his universe. And I don't know if I could have gotten back on my own. And-- and you said it yourself-- he's ripped a hole in space-time. You're the only person I know who can fix one of those."

"Well." The Doctor put on his spectacles, starting to walk toward the door. "Well, in any case, he's probably in this same universe, then, trying to find us. Maybe he's close, and maybe he isn't. Maybe the rift he tore in space is nearby, and maybe it isn't. But I suppose the first step would be to look outside and get some idea of where we are."

*****

The door of the TARDIS opened into a bare hallway, lined with the doors of rooms. The two of them stepped out and began to walk down the hall.

"Where are we, a hospital or something?" said Jack, scratching his face again and wincing. The claws had just finished forming on his hands, and the ear he'd scratched had become very thin and sensitive, stretching into a point and moving up toward the top of his head. He folded his clawed hands behind his back, and fixed his eyes on the attractive rear view of the Time Lord walking ahead of him.

The Doctor was looking around, head forward and mouth slightly open, as if listening for faint sounds and vibrations. "No. No-- it feels like a starship."

The mention of a starship triggered something in the captain's memory-- something from his years of being saturated in twentieth and twenty-first-century culture. Seeing his surroundings in that light, they began to look familiar. But it was impossible...

"So... there are parallel universes for everything, right?" he asked. "Every possibility."

"Oh, oh yes," the Doctor answered, attention still focused on the doors as they traversed the corridor. "Everything that could have happened. Everything you can imagine that can't happen. Everything you can't imagine."

"So, if someone in our universe made up a work of fiction-- like, say, a television show--" Jack began, "even if things happened in that show that would break the laws of physics in our universe-- there's still going to be a universe, somewhere out there, where all those same things actually happen?"

"Of course." The Doctor looked sideways at him. "Why do you ask?"

Captain Jack shook his head. "Just curious."

They had reached a door that seemed to interest the Doctor very much. He stared at it intently for a second, that wide-eyed insane curious look on his face, adorable and sexy at once-- then he grimaced, stumbled backwards, and pressed his hands against the sides of his head.

"Doctor? What's wrong?" Jack rested a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, concern flooding through him. The Time Lord's teeth were showing as if he were in pain, and Jack's hand only seemed to make it worse. The sight of him hurting made Jack hurt too-- god, he cared way too much about this crazy alien. "Doctor, talk to me. Are you okay?"

Then as he felt fabric give beneath his fingertips, Jack pulled his hand away, realizing he didn't yet have full control over his claws. They were long and sharp, and fur had spread across most of the skin of his hands by now. "Sorry. But what happened?"

As Jack let go, the Doctor staggered back until he collided with the opposite wall. "There-- is an insanely intense telepathic energy, emanating from in there," he said, his eyes still clenched shut, his hands fumbling to take off his spectacles and put them away.

"From what?" Jack felt that urge to comfort him again, but his clawed hands weren't going to help matters.

The pain finally seemed to have faded; the Doctor was opening his eyes to stare at the door again, that lovable look of curiosity sneaking back onto his face. "If I had to guess, I'd say there's a powerful telepathic being inside that room, going through some extreme emotional and physical stress of some kind."

The captain's own eyes focused on the door too, his apprehension building despite his own curiosity. "And you want to go in and see what it is, don't you?"

"Oh, definitely," the Doctor said, reaching into his pocket for his sonic screwdriver.

*****

Spock huddled in a corner of his quarters, trying to meditate.

He had just gotten Nurse Christine Chapel to leave, asking her to make him another bowl of soup, placating her gentle concern for him by giving her something to do, so she could feel as if she was helping.

But nothing she could do would really help. If she made him soup, he would probably not be able to eat it. His appetite had faded days ago, all his energy focused on one single physical urge. He clasped his hands together in meditation, doubling over, feeling the heat and hardness of his erection strain inside his clothes.

If Nurse Chapel hadn't left, he might have lost control and tried to burn out his sexual firestorm with her body. She would probably have been willing-- but it wouldn't have helped; it wouldn't have sated him. He was drawn in a telepathic tractor beam toward his own planet, the madness of pon farr refusing to release him until he came home and took the mate his family had chosen for him.

If it had been his own choice, the pon farr would be drawing him to another cabin on this ship. Even now, the fantasies of home were tangled up with fantasies of his captain, Jim Kirk-- the mischievous human smile, the soft human flesh against his own. He moaned and shook his head-- there was no logic in such a desire. It was un-Vulcan in every way. He was a shame to his father's species; his human blood made him a scandal to his planet.

His planet... the pon-farr-induced longing for home took over. Nurse Chapel had helped in one way. She had informed him that the ship was finally on course for Vulcan again, that he would be home in a few days. Perhaps he would get there in time, before the mating drive tore him apart, before he went mad and died.

The door of his quarters opened, without a knock or a press of the buzzer. He felt the presence of other beings in the room after the door slid shut again, but he was far gone now, caring about nothing but the blood fever inside his own body.

"Are you all right?" a voice called out.

*****

The Doctor blinked in the low, reddish light, making a face at the crimson curtains and the statues in the shrine. "Quite the melodramatic decorating job," he murmured to Jack, but he suspected Jack didn't care. The human's eyes were focused only on him-- he didn't know if it was concern, or lust, or a mix of both, and he didn't want to know. He didn't want to think about what Jack felt for him. They were feelings that weren't going to do either of them any good, and thinking about them too much made the Doctor's own emotions start to feel tender enough to hurt. So he packed them away in the back of his mind again, and tried to focus on the immediate situation.

"Are you all right?" he called out again at the crouched figure in the corner. When there was no reply, he approached the man and knelt down beside him. The telepathic energy was thick in the air-- it felt as if the poor fellow was going quite insane.

The Doctor peered closely at what he could see of him. The man was dressed in a blue shirt and black trousers, his body curled up almost in a ball, his face turned down. But his head was visible-- short black hair, and elegant pointed ears.

"Well, this is interesting," the Doctor murmured. The only reply was continued heavy breathing.

"Can you hear me? I might be able to help you." Cautiously he reached out his hands, settling them against the sides of the tense face... opening his mind to telepathic communication, focusing on creating mental shields that could protect his own mind while letting him gather knowledge about the madman's condition.

His fingers met hot damp skin, and it was like completing an electrical circuit. No, it was like touching a sun. Waves and waves of smoldering heat rushed in on him, crushing his shields like paper, explosions of emotion and physical sensation going off in every centimeter of his body, knocking him back onto the floor.

He sat there stunned, clutching his head, as dizzy and confused as if he'd just regenerated. Heat and light and madness were still roiling throughout him, burning his skin and offsetting his sense of balance, accelerating his heartbeats to a near-painful pace, blinding his mind's eye with white fire... he didn't know where to start sorting it all out...

"Doctor!" Jack was kneeling beside him, but he was just a blotch of darkness in the corner of the Doctor's eye, a warm presence beside him that didn't seem to mean anything just yet. The man in the corner was getting up, clearer than Jack in the Doctor's vision, advancing toward the two of them with insanity burning in his eyes.

*****

Jack stared at the madman's face. The pointed ears, the fringe of black hair, the slanted eyebrows-- he blinked with a sense of recognition, but mostly disbelief. "God, it really is true," he murmured, "what you said about universes."

He finally managed to lift the dazed Doctor to his feet, being as careful as he could with his claws, and the two of them staggered toward the door with their arms over each other's shoulders. But the Vulcan was too fast, seizing the Doctor from his grasp and pinning him against the door, strong hands on his biceps.

What happened next shocked Jack to the core of his being. Spock pressed his entire body against the Doctor's, his legs spread and his knees against the door on either side of the Doctor's legs-- and kissed him.

It was an animalistic kiss, like an attempt to devour him, hands woven through the Doctor's hair and clutching his head tightly as the madman's mouth explored and invaded his, for long moments, making occasional detours to breathe against his neck and bite at the skin below his ears. It was enough to make Jack shiver with a combination of panic and arousal-- and those feelings doubled and tripled when he saw that the Doctor was actually responding.

The Time Lord's neck arched back, a moan coming from his throat as he let Spock's mouth follow his movement, pressing his head against the door with the force of the kiss. His expressive face was flushing, his eyes closed tight under lowered eyebrows, and his hands were making their way to the Vulcan's backside, pulling their groins closer together. Both men started bucking against each other through their clothes, as their mouths met, as the kiss became utterly mutual. The Doctor was pressing his mouth back, opening to the Vulcan tongue, and when Spock moved to explore his neck and ear, he gave a gasp and moan that brought Jack's newly feline cock to full erection in a matter of seconds.

But no matter how sexy he found this situation, Captain Jack couldn't ignore the fact that it might be dangerous. The Doctor was under the influence of a powerful telepathic mind, and it was clearly altering his thought patterns, changing his motivations. It could be damaging the Doctor's mind every moment that the contact continued. "Ssstop it," he called out, stumbling on the words-- his tongue had begun to change in shape and texture, and the unaccustomed roughness made speech difficult.

So he turned to actions instead of words, seizing the Vulcan from behind, his clawed hands gripping the hot and muscled arms and trying to pull him away. But Spock was too strong, and his motivation was too powerful. He shook off the attempt to tackle him as if it were an insect landing on his back.

Jack ran his transforming tongue over his teeth. He would have to speak Spock's language, then.

He approached the rutting alien from behind again, but this time, instead of behaving like an assailant, he embraced him, kissing the back of his neck roughly with his sharp teeth and sandpaper tongue, pressing his still-hard cock against Spock's tight backside. It was almost enough to drive Jack himself beyond control, the alien heat and copper taste of the Vulcan neck, the pressure of that taut ass when his erection was craving touch more than anything...

The feverish body gave a shudder, and released the Doctor to turn around and face Jack. Spock's eyes were on fire, his lips flushed and swollen, his breath heaving. He was fucking gorgeous. Jack's eyes darted to the side, seeing the Doctor slump with his back against the door and stare at the two of them as he struggled to stay upright.

Jack's urge to get the Doctor to safety clashed for a moment against a new urge he felt as he looked into those fevered eyes. He didn't think Spock was influencing him telepathically-- he wasn't a telepath himself, and he hadn't been the one who tried to mind-meld with the guy-- but there was certainly an influence of some kind happening here.

Their two bodies turned, circling each other, Spock finally getting Jack cornered against the door where he'd had the Doctor. Jack glanced to the side, seeing the Doctor still leaning there, looking confused and scared and something more.

He turned his eyes back to Spock, but while he let the madman's gaze feast on him, his hand was creeping toward his friend's waist.

His fingers brushed the Doctor's groin first, by mistake, feeling a warm firmness that lingered in his tactile memory long after his hand had passed it. The sensation of it, and the responsive motion of hips that followed, actually made Jack gasp softly-- and the moan he heard in response made his breath catch. But he kept moving his hand, across the thrusting hips until he found the pocket with the sonic screwdriver inside it.

It seemed this door was supposed to open on some electronic command he didn't know about, but he could probably get it open with the screwdriver. He hadn't used the thing before, but he had experience with various sonic devices of his own, left over from the future, his past. He could probably figure it out. If he could keep Spock distracted. With the hand that wasn't invading the Doctor's pocket, he grasped the back of the Vulcan's head and pulled him close.

Thank god his lips were still human enough for kissing. Spock didn't seem to mind the pain of the sharp teeth and rough tongue at all-- he put his whole Vulcan strength into kissing back, growling in his throat. As he started to press the superheated bulge in his groin against Jack's leg, the captain's other hand managed to push the right button as he held the sonic screwdriver against the lock-- finally making the door slide open.

With all their weight leaning on the door, the three men were thrown off balance by its motion. Jack, not being insane, recovered first. Pushing the Doctor out into the hallway, he pulled the door shut on Spock and hit it with a pulse from the sonic screwdriver, hoping that would keep it closed long enough for them to escape to the TARDIS.

"Doctor?" He pulled the disoriented Time Lord to his feet and draped the unresponsive left arm over his shoulder. The Doctor was conscious, but not fully aware-- his face was flushed, his breathing was hard and irregular, and Jack had to do most of the work as they ran down the hall the way they'd come.

Hearing the Vulcan beating at the inside of his own door, Jack glanced back for a second. It was too bad, really. He'd been curious what Spock looked like naked.

*****

TO BE CONTINUED

*****