Thank you to Debra Fran Baker, for nursemaiding, midwifing, and handholding, as well as for betas on early drafts. Thank you to Basingstoke, for betas early, late, and final, and for tolerating my insanity. Thank you also to Fuzzicat, Kalia, Cara, Mary Ellen Curtin, and everyone else who was supportive through the long slow gestation of this.

ardently learning the feelings for who knows
what inclination, awaiting us in space?
            --Ranier Maria Rilke

Chapter 1

Telar of Vulcan tied back his hair and sat down at his desk to finish a progress report.  The young Sentinel he'd been tutoring was progressing well, all five of her enhanced senses under control.  She wasn't yet able to control them subconsciously, but she could manage her input with an impressively fine hand.

He allowed himself to feel pleased at how well she was performing; training young Sentinels was even more satisfying than training more Guides like himself. 

The door chimed at him, and he saved the report and put the padd aside.  "Come," he called, and the doors opened to admit Admiral Banks.  Telar noted with amusement that at nearly two meters in height, the Admiral's head nearly brushed the top of the door opening.

"Admiral," he said, standing to attention.

"Lieutenant Telar," Banks responded. "I need to speak to you."  Telar gestured at the armchairs in the living area, and they both seated themselves.  "I'll be brief," said the Admiral.  "We need you to guide an unbonded Sentinel in the field."

Telar leaned forward slightly.  "There are no unbonded Sentinels currently in the field."

"This one's a late-activating latent.  I have serious reservations, however, about the wisdom of assigning you as his Guide."  He looked at Telar, who had drawn back.

"His.  This is a male Sentinel."

"Yes.  Captain James Ellison."  The admiral held out a padd, and Telar took it reluctantly, skimming the information on it.

Ellison, James Joseph.  Terran-born human, thirty-seven, captain of the Judicial Corps ship Justus Jonas.  Telar laid the padd down on the table.  "A male Sentinel."  He shook his head.  "I am sorry, sir, but no."

Admiral Banks frowned.  "I'll be honest, Lieutenant.  You really don't have a choice.  All the healers confirm that you're suited as a Guide.  Sentinels respond to you appropriately, you know all the techniques, and you haven't bonded with one yet."

"You know my reasons, sir."

"I understand that Vulcans do not encourage homosexual relationships."  He sighed.  "Lieutenant, I'm not asking you to bond with him.  You're the best Guide instructor the Academy's had in fifty years--we'd like to keep you.  But we need Ellison to be able to do his job more than we need you here.  You're the only Guide with extensive deep space experience, the only one even close to his own age who is unbonded."  He leaned back and shook his head.  "I'm not making him wait for a Guide to grow up, and I'm not assigning a Guide to someone twice their age.  You don't have to bond with him, but we need you to Guide him."

"Sir, this could compromise his chances of ever bonding.  If he decides, even subconsciously, that I am his Guide, he may not be able to--"

Admiral Banks stood up.  "You're joining the crew of the Jonas as Guide.  That's an order, Lieutenant.  How you choose to handle Ellison--bonded or unbonded--is up to you."

He left the room, and as the door whooshed shut behind him, Telar picked up the padd again and stared at the information: Human.  Thirty-seven.  The Justus Jonas.

Chapter 2

Telar ran nervous fingers through his hair and fingered the earrings in his left ear.  He exhaled slowly, calming himself.  The door hissed open, and he turned to face it, his expression neutral.  He could feel his heart beating too fast against his ribs, and he dropped his hands to his sides.

The human who stepped through the door was tall, taller than Telar, though no broader.  He looked the Vulcan over before speaking.  "Lieutenant Telar?"

"Yes, sir."  Telar felt his muscles tense with excitement, felt his empathic sense expand to include the man across from him.  He fought to keep his emotions under control.

"I'm Captain James Ellison."  The man moved closer, but did not reach out.   "You've read my file?"  Telar saw the telltale twitching of his skin that meant Ellison's sense of touch was spiking, and was impressed by the level of control the man displayed.

"Yes, sir.  You were a latent Sentinel until four Standard months ago, when you were trapped and isolated for nearly two weeks after a planetary insurrection.  Your condition was diagnosed at Deep Space Thirteen almost three months ago."

"That's the first time I haven't had a Vulcan give me decimals."

"Do you need decimals, sir?"

"No."  Ellison waved the offer away.  "So you've read my file.  And I've read yours.   You teach xenology and Guide techniques."  At Telar's nod, Ellison crossed his arms, his pale blue eyes narrowing.  "Why haven't you bonded before?"

Telar cocked his head to one side.  "All known Sentinel-Guide pairs are same species.  I am the only Vulcan Guide.  There are no Vulcan Sentinels." 

Ellison frowned.  "So why have you been paired with me?"

"I was ordered to Guide you, sir, not to bond with you.  I have, however, decided to attempt the bond, if you are willing."

The frown deepened.  "Your file says that you're heterosexual."

"That is true."

"The bond is sexual."

"That is also true."

"Then I don't understand why you'd do this.  Or why I should accept your offer."

"It is the logical choice for both of us.  Bonded pairs function much more efficiently.  If we can bond, you will have much finer control over your senses.  As for myself--I am Vulcan, and unmarried, and far from home.  That I am also heterosexual is of very little importance."

Ellison looked him up and down.  "I prefer willing partners, Chief."

Telar bit back the fear that threatened to close his throat, and said only, "You will find me willing."  The human did not answer.  After a few moments, Telar spoke again.  "If I may, sir, you are unlikely to find another Guide so suited.  I hold rank; I have experience in deep space and as a Guide.  I have trained both Sentinels and Guides over the course of my service with Starfleet, and all other unbonded Guides are still cadets at the Academy.  Starfleet will not permit an unpaired Sentinel to command.  Unless you allow me to be your Guide, it will be years before you are in space again, if ever."  He hesitated, then spoke again, his voice softer.  "And humans and Vulcans are known to be compatible species; we commonly intermarry and are suited to each other in both temperament and sexual taste."

Ellison sighed.  "Flawlessly logical."

"I am honored."  Telar lifted his chin and watched the human warily, still unsure of whether he would agree.  Humans were sometimes impervious to logic.

"You'll have to tell me why it's logical for you.  The real reason," Ellison said, his expression serious.

"I shall."

Ellison's mouth twitched, and his eyes crinkled.  "Vulcan humor.  You'll tell me--in your own sweet time."  He held Telar's eyes for a few moments, then visibly relaxed.  "Come on, then, if we're going to do this."

They headed for the medical wing.  Telar found himself clenching and unclenching his fists.  All of his theories about the bonding process--all the young Sentinels he had encountered and never been drawn to, all of the Guides he had taught who had connected with Sentinels in only hours--and now, it had come down to this: an untrained human male.

He was relieved that they would attempt the bond in an impersonal clinical setting.  And yet there had been something in the bondings he had witnessed over the years, something dark and beautiful, which had touched those pairs as he knew this could not touch him; as it could not touch Ellison.  He looked sideways at his new partner and thought, perhaps this is just as well.  I could not submit to him before witnesses, and I doubt he would submit to me.

* * *

The medical wing made Ellison shudder as he stripped down to his skivvies.  It smelled wrong--smelled subtly like illness and fear--and it was too cold.  He stretched the kinks out of his muscles and looked over at Telar, who was sitting cross-legged on the other biobed.  "I hate this," he said, more to hear himself speak than anything.

Telar looked over and raised an eyebrow.  "I am not fond of apple juice, but I do not think I have ever hated anything."

Ellison blinked.  From a Vulcan, that was such a bizarre answer--almost a joke--that he was startled.  "Hate is illogical," that he could deal with.  "What do you hate?  The medical wing?" would be a bit more in character for a Starfleet-trained Vulcan.  Telar's response was off the map.  He looked at the long hair and the earrings, at the muscular angles of Telar's body, at those broad strong hands.

He wondered what Telar would taste like, and inhaled deeply, drawing his scent into his lungs.  Salt, sweet, no musk to speak of; a child's scent on an adult male.  As he analyzed the smells, he realized that Telar was a Vulcan subadult, not yet through his first pon farr.

"You haven't been through your first Time yet," he said.

"No."  Telar lifted one eyebrow slightly.  "I will not become fertile until my Time, but that hardly matters here."

Ellison sighed.  "It matters to me.  You're a subadult.  Not sexually mature."

"Vulcans do not account maturity quite the same way as humans.  Furthermore, I am not unaware of the methods and consequences of sex."  Telar uncrossed his legs, letting them dangle off the edge of the biobed.  "I am physically sexually mature, and capable of adult response."

"Physically."

"What other response is there?"

Ellison shrugged.  "Mental.  Emotional."  Telar only stared at him.  "Didn't anyone ever tell you that the brain is the biggest sex organ?"

"No."

"Oh, God."

Two doctors entered the room and instructed them to lie down together on one of the beds.  Ellison felt the heat of the Vulcan against him, and then a mental pressure--something inside of him, and then gone again, leaving just a trace of itself behind.

One of the doctors brushed her fingers across his face, and then across Telar's.  "The bond's set," she said.  "If you'll sign here, we'll take care of the partnership registration."

They signed, letting the Starfleet central network do its job: granting a marriage, transferring Telar from a teaching position at Starfleet Academy to the U.S.S. Justus Jonas, restoring Ellison's command.

Together, they went to Telar's quarters in the Academy officer's housing, and Ellison watched as his new partner contacted the Jonas to arrange beam-up of his possessions.  Telar met his eyes across the room, and Ellison realized, uneasily, that the Vulcan was blue-eyed--rare for his race.

He felt the now-familiar blankness of a zone-out creeping over him; he was falling into blue eyes, alien blue eyes; falling into someone who was too remote to touch.

And then the world came rushing back, and the eyes were right there; Telar was right there, one hand gently touching his face, words dying in the air as the Vulcan stopped speaking.  "It worked," Ellison said.

Telar only inclined his head and stepped back, removing his hand.

Ellison shook himself and looked around the empty room.  Satisfied that all of Telar's belongings were gone, he tapped his communicator.  "Jonas, this is Ellison.  Two to beam up."

As the beam took them, he wondered what the hell he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

The Justus Jonas was a beautiful ship, Telar thought as he followed his partner through the corridors.  The science vessel where he had been posted before had offered him standard fieldwork, but no chance to apply his training as a Guide.  The Jonas would require both his xenological and Guide training.  Briefly, he allowed himself to feel pleasure in the posting, the pleasure he could not feel in his marriage.

"We have a mixed-species crew, but not that mixed," Ellison said as they walked.  "Vulcans, humans, and Betazoids, mostly, a few other races--but she's a small ship, only two hundred sixty-eight people, so we only keep one environment on her."

They reached the captain's suite, and Telar listened as Ellison instructed the computer to recognize him--"my registered partner and inhabitant of these quarters"--and give him full access.  He stepped forward and gave the computer a voiceprint, and then they were inside.  He stilled the nervous twitching of his fingers and looked around him.

The three rooms were bare except for 'Fleet-issue furniture, and he looked questioningly at Ellison.  "Have you no belongings?"

The human shrugged.  "When my senses came online, I couldn't tolerate much.  Everything set them off.  It's all down in one of the cargo bays." 

"I see," said Telar, considering the situation carefully.  Ellison was evidently highly focused on his functioning, and had no desire to damage himself; that was good.  He'd seen too many Sentinels bent on self-destruction in the past few years.  "We can re-introduce items into the environment slowly, then; for now, we will need only the minimum."  He walked over to the bedroom and began to examine the bed.  After a minute, he began stripping it.

Ellison came to the doorway and watched him.  "What are you doing?"

"This material is too coarse, and it will cause a rash if you sleep on it for too long.  Synthetics, you will find, are almost always suboptimal."  He tapped his commbadge.  "Lieutenant Telar to Quartermaster."

* * *

Ellison listened as Telar calmly explained that the quartermaster had a Sentinel to provide for, now, and that if she knew what was good for her she would listen to the Guide, and that the list of approved items was in the handbook, and he knew it was an inconvenience but would she please send some sonic-cleaned brushed cotton sheets to the captain's quarters?  He smiled a little at that.  Telar had obviously spent a great deal of time around humans; while his speech was Vulcan-formal, his tone was gentle and his demands couched as requests.  He shook his head and left the doorway.  The sheets had been fine; a little rough, maybe, but they hadn't caused any rashes.

He sighed and looked at the bare walls of the common area.  He knew Telar was probably less pleased with this marriage then he himself, but it was, at least, the logical choice.  He'd wanted to be back in space; Telar had offered a way. 

But he was now married to him, the empathic bond already humming between them.  He'd felt it back on Terra, in that hot Vulcan touch on his face, those soft-spoken words that drew him out of a zone.  He could feel it now: if he let his hearing drift, it centered itself on the small noises Telar made in the other room.

And he could tell, in a very vague way, that Telar was upset. He headed back to the bedroom and looked at his partner.  "What's wrong, Chief?"

Telar folded a shirt and shrugged.  "I cannot lie to you and tell you that the sexual part of this relationship makes me...happy.  It does not."

"It's not fair to either of us," Ellison said.  "We can still change it."

Telar stopped putting his clothes into the dresser and leaned his hands on the top of it.  "No, we cannot, and no, it is not fair.  I have no desire for you; you should not be forced into a monogamous commitment when such is not your nature.  But you need a Guide, and I am a Guide who needs a mate.  Because of these needs, Captain, I shall become your sexual partner, and you shall give up your boy in every port."

Ellison rubbed his forehead.  "I don't have a--God, Telar, I know what my reputation is but it's not--I mean, monogamy doesn't bother me, and don't call me 'Captain.'  Anytime we're off-duty--please, call me Jim."

"Jim."

"Just listen to me, all right?  I won't force you.  If you don't want--"

"I told you that I would be willing.  I did not lie to you."  Telar raised an eyebrow.  "Or did you believe that I was masochistic enough to wish myself raped?"

"Your psych profile indicated no such tendencies, Lieutenant."

For the first time, Ellison saw the trace of a smile on the Vulcan's face, and felt hope. 

The door chimed, and Ellison instructed the computer to let the quartermaster and her staff in.  He watched as they made up his bed, and watched as Telar went through his clothing and exchanged a great deal of it for similar clothes in different fabrics.  The quartermaster took careful notes and left, carrying more than she had come with.

When they were once more alone, he gestured for the Vulcan to join him on the bed, which he did.  "We have to reinforce the bond, don't we?"

"Not now.  We can wait, if you like."

"That'll weaken it."

"In all likelihood, yes."

Ellison reached out, stopping his hand just shy of Telar's shoulder.  "I want to do this right."  He could feel the vibrations of the air as Telar trembled slightly, millimeters below his fingers. "I know you don't want this.  And I'm sorry.  But I *do*.  There have been moments since this happened where the universe was so beautiful--moments when I could *see* things or *hear* things--I want that.  I want that all the time."  He swallowed and let his fingertips brush fabric, just past the hard jut of collarbone.  "I want to do this right."

"As you wish."  Telar began to disrobe, and Ellison pressed his fingers into his shoulder, hard enough to make him stop.

"Does it have to be sex?"

"It is the quickest and best way," answered Telar, his voice soft.

For a moment, they looked at each other, and then Ellison said, "We're married.  There's no hurry.  We've only known each other--what, half a day?"

Relief flashed across Telar's face for a second, but vanished quickly.  "Thank you, Jim," he said, and Ellison squeezed the Vulcan's shoulder for a second before letting go.

"I'd still like to know why a heterosexual would marry a partner of the same gender," he said, softly.

Telar sighed and looked off into space before speaking.  "Because I could not allow your training, or mine, to go to waste, and because my other options were unacceptable.  This was acceptable."  He turned to face his partner.  "You are pleasant company, and the bond between us is already well-set.  We are undoubtedly compatible in almost every way.  As long as we both accept a difficult adjustment, we should make an excellent team."

They sat there in silence for several minutes, and then Ellison spoke again.  "I won't say I'm not confused.  I also won't say that I don't find you attractive.  I do.  Being with you won't be much of an adjustment for me.  But I won't pressure you about it."

The Vulcan raised one hand and brushed it gently over Ellison's face.  "I am not homosexual," he said, "but I am still your Guide.  You will not be starved for touch or for companionship."

The feather-light touch grew bolder, and Ellison shivered as his partner moved closer.  Telar's touch was soothing, and touch had been more trouble than anything else since his senses came on line.  He felt warm hands skimming his body, over his clothes, and a warm baritone voice keeping him just this side of zoning, and then he felt Telar pressing their bodies together, the soft fabric barely a barrier to his senses.

He never wanted it to stop.

He jerked in Telar's arms, twisting his body away from his Guide as he fought a zone.  He opened his mouth, tasted Telar on the air, and then there was nothing.

* * *

Ellison woke the sound of his Guide's voice.  "Jim.  Jim, come back."  He rolled over and blinked up at Telar, who touched his face lightly.  When the Vulcan pulled his hand back, the headache went with it.

"What--"

"Everything is as it should be.  You overloaded and zoned."

"Triggered by touch?"  He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Telar sat back.  "Jim, before I touched you, when was the last time you had physical contact with someone?  Intimate contact, that is; not a doctor, or a clinical situation."

"Just before the insurrection."  He frowned.  "Why?"

"That was four months ago."  Telar toyed with the earrings in his left ear.  "Touch was spiking earlier today, when we met, was it not?"

Ellison nodded.

"You have avoided all contact for months, then? Even hand-to-hand fighting?"

"Touch was up all the time."  Ellison shrugged.  "The others I could keep mostly under control.  But touch has been a problem the entire time.  I could barely keep from screaming when the doctor touched me--there's no way I was going to spar with someone in the gym.  I couldn't even *think* about sex without getting ambushed by sense memory."

"And yet you kept the sheets, and the clothing."

"I didn't think about it.  Everything hurt, so I just accepted it."  As he spoke, he realized that, for the first time since his senses came online, he wasn't in pain.  Everything was--not *normal*, but not painful, either.  He could feel the air currents over his skin, but like a caress instead of an attack.

His Guide lay down next to him, one arm across his stomach, his head pressed to Ellison's shoulder.  "Do not accept these things.  You need physical contact now a great deal more than you used to, and you are much more sensitive to environmental factors.  That is why I am here: to ground you, to center you, to help you use your senses."

"And what do I do for you, Chief?  What do you get out of it?"  He ran one hand over Telar's back, feeling the hard muscles underneath. "I can *smell* that you're not interested.  Probably feel it, too, with this bond."

"I am a Vulcan," Telar said softly, stiffening and pulling away, rising gracefully to his feet.  "We do not, as a rule, form homosexual associations."

"And you're a subadult--so you don't desire.  Don't think it doesn't matter, Telar, because it does."

The Vulcan paused and looked back over his shoulder before disappearing into the 'fresher. Ellison lay back, letting his thoughts and senses drift.  After a few moments, he realized that all five senses were tracking Telar; that he could sense a cool presence within himself that had not been there just a few hours ago.  The empathic bond between Sentinel and Guide felt, suddenly, like his entire world; like a blessing he didn't know he'd wanted until he got it.

* * *

Telar adjusted the shower with a shaking hand.  He winced as the water hit his skin.  Water showers were an unfortunate necessity--sonics were intolerable to a Sentinel.  When Ellison was out of their quarters, he could use them, but with him close by--no.  Even to relieve his own pain, the deep stress-ache in his muscles, he could not do that to his Sentinel.  *His* Sentinel: the bond had set easily, naturally--easily enough to make him question his theories about the bonding process.

He shook his hair back over his shoulders and considered the situation.  He had never wanted to be a Guide, but he remembered his mother's face, streaked with blood and tears, as she held his brother's body.  He did not wish to cause her pain, and he did not wish to die.  Starfleet's Guide training program had been the logical choice.  Ten years ago, it had been the only choice he could live with.

Two years ago, unbonded still, he had left a xenology post on a science vessel to teach at Starfleet Academy, hoping to be matched with a young Sentinel.

Three days ago, he had heard of James Ellison for the first time.

This morning, he'd bonded with him.

He turned off the water abruptly, feeling a familiar tightness in his chest.  He wiped the water from his face and leaned his head against the wall, slowing his breathing and his heartbeat.  He could tell that his bond with Jim Ellison was set, and stable.  *Jim* was stable.  A late-activating latent, *male*, untaught, barely in control of himself, but stable.

He should be grateful.

He took a deep breath.  Even now, being a Guide was the only choice he could live with.  As much as he would prefer a female partner, Ellison was infinitely preferable to death.  The bond had set easily and firmly between them--he would have to record detailed notes later--and the human was, if nothing else, intelligent and pleasant.

Telar stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the air-dryer, letting the heat carry away the water from his body, water that on Vulcan would never be used for bathing.  He replaced his earrings, and realized that he had forgotten to bring a clean uniform in with him.

Jim Ellison is my mate, he thought to himself.  I need not find that attractive, but neither should I hide from it.  I have already held him, felt his release; there is no shame in showing him my body.  He left the 'fresher and saw Ellison's eyes dart to him, and then quickly away.

"You okay?" Ellison asked.

Telar pulled a uniform shirt over his head.  "Yes."

He finished dressed in silence, and left their quarters for his baseline medical evals.  Ellison neither moved nor spoke.

* * *

Chapter 3

"Captain, I'm concerned about Lieutenant Telar."

Ellison looked across his desk at Deka, the ship's counselor.  "What's wrong with Telar?  He seems fine to me."

"He doesn't socialize."

"He's Vulcan.  You know what they're like."

"He doesn't socialize with the Vulcans, either, Captain.  I don't think he's even spoken to any of them since he came on board."

"Maybe he hasn't had the chance--"

"It's been a month, sir.  I've seen him, sitting alone in the rec room.  Just watching.  He doesn't talk to anyone unless they talk to him first."

"Look, Telar's a pretty private person--"

"Not that private.  I've looked at his records.  He's never served on a ship that had any other Vulcan crew before.  In fact, he specifically requested a non-Vulcan ship on all his previous deep-space assignments.  I don't know why he did it.  I thought maybe you would."

"No," Ellison said.  "No, I don't.  I'll talk to him."

They chatted for a while about the upcoming mission, a sentients-rights investigation on Nasaia, a world on the edge of the star desert.  Eventually, Deka left for his counseling sessions.

Ellison waited for the door to whoosh shut, and put his head in his hands.  Why would Telar avoid other Vulcans?  He couldn't think of a single good reason for it.  Abruptly, he felt guilty: he and Telar had the same off-hours, and he'd spent them with Connor and Brown, the first officer and the head navigator, while Telar had spent them alone.

Lonely.

He couldn't bear to think of Telar being lonely.

His next off-shift, he headed for the main rec room.  As he approached, he could hear voices, movement--and underneath it all, the beating of his Guide's heart.  It beat faster than a human heart, so much faster...

He shook himself out of the beginnings of a zone and entered the room, ending up face-to-face with Telar, who was on his way out.  "You felt it," he said.

"I always do, Jim," Telar answered.  "The nature of the connection between us--"

"Our quarters," Ellison said, softly, jerking his head towards the door.

Telar raised one eyebrow, but obeyed.

They made their way in silence, and Ellison tried to think of something to say to the stranger at his side.  They'd been together a month, and Telar had handled his senses smoothly and perfectly.  They worked well together, there was no question of that.  His senses were under control, responding instantly when called up, and the zone-outs were getting rarer.  Telar was nothing if not a skilled Guide.

But Ellison wanted more.

He wanted friendship, if nothing else.  He wanted Telar to feel pleasure at his touch, as he felt at Telar's.  And he wanted to know what it was that Telar was getting from this relationship.

Once inside their quarters, he sat down on the armchair, abruptly and absurdly glad that his partner had thought to reintroduce his personal furniture before starting in on smaller items, even though it meant that most of Telar's belongings were still stowed under the bed.

"What did you wish to discuss, Jim?"  The curious expression on Telar's face disturbed Ellison, and he tried to figure out why. 

Because, he decided, it makes me feel like he's studying me.  Like I'm this fascinating thing that he's investigating.  Like I'm just a job, just another alien to understand.

He cleared his throat.  "I've been thinking that we don't spend enough time together, Chief."

"Are your senses--"

"Not everything is about them, Telar!  I--I just thought--look, we're going to be together a while, right?  I've probably got another hundred standard years left in me."

"In all probability, yes."

"So we should get to know each other."

"We will."

Ellison frowned.  "Look.  I barely know anything about you.  And I'd like to.  I mean, you *talk*, but you don't *say* anything.  You're the most talkative Vulcan I've ever met, but--"

"Jim."

Ellison stopped, and when Telar did not say anything further, he listened.  Heard the soft rasp of breath and the speeding of a Vulcan heart, just a bit off-tempo.  "What?"  He knew his tone had gentled in response to his partner's distress.  And Telar *was* distressed, his control barely holding, his presence in Ellison's mind shimmering, as if through haze.  Ellison's fingers twitched, and he had to keep himself from reaching out and pulling Telar to him, trying to soothe him with touch.

"Do you play chess?" Telar asked, his voice normal, steady, as though his control were untouched.

Ellison took a deep breath and shook his head.  "Only old-style.  Flat chess."

He watched something close to pleasure flicker across Telar's face.  "I prefer old-style."  The Vulcan moved to the bed and pulled a storage bin from beneath it.  "I have a set here that you should appreciate."  He removed a carved box and a board from the bin.  "Handmade from Vulcan wood by my mother's sister."

He set the board on his desk and handed Ellison a piece.  "T'Pau of Vulcan.  This set was carved shortly after her death."  Ellison ran his fingers over it, feeling the fineness of the carving and the smoothness of the wood, both from sanding and from decades of use.

"Beautiful.  Unbelievable detail."  He set T'Pau down and took the box.  As he started to set the pieces out on the board, one of them caught his eye.  He held it to the light.  It was a Vulcan male, kneeling, stripped to the waist.  His hands were bound, and his hair spilled down his back.  Two carved earrings hung in one pointed ear.  "Telar," he said, and felt the Vulcan's hand close over his own, covering the piece.

"The pawns," Telar said.  "The set was also carved just after the death of her eldest son."

"He looks like you."

Telar took the pawn away from him.  "We had the same father."

"He married your mother after--"

"My mother has never been married.  Neither has her sister.  I am the only one of my family in generations to have a bondmate."

"I thought all Vulcans--"

"No."  Telar's expression was unreadable, but his breathing was slow.  Too slow, Ellison noticed.  Too controlled.  "My family is somewhat unusual."  He stepped back and finished setting up the board.   "Shall we play, Jim?"

* * *

Ellison tapped the last item on the briefing agenda, glad to be finished with the meeting and ready to get on with the real work.  He needed to talk to Connor and Telar.  Telar had never been on a sentients-rights mission before, and Ellison was a bit nervous about that.  He supposed, however, that it would be far better to have a too-quiet member of the contact team than a leader who zoned or spiked while meeting with the planetary government.

Connor had looked at him funny two days ago when he'd told her he wanted Telar on the contact team.  "Jim, I know he's your Guide.  But he doesn't have the experience for this."

He'd frowned at her.  "I know that.  But I can't just turn this off and *not* need my Guide with me."

"Oh, come on.  Telar's very good at what he does, I'm sure, but are you telling me you need him along?"

"That's what I'm telling you."

"Then have him teach another member of the team to do what you need."

"I can't do that, Connor.  He's an experienced officer, and he's my Guide, and that's the end of it."

She'd leaned back and looked at him.  "Jim, you know I like him, but don't you think you're taking this a little bit far?"

He'd sighed.  "No, I don't."

He shook his head to clear it and tried to focus on the task at hand.  The other officers were filing out the door, and Telar, ever graceful, slid into the chair next to him.  Connor frowned and leaned on the table.  "You wanted us to stay, sir?"

"Yes.  Lieutenant Telar, I've assigned you to the contact team on this mission.  I want you to work with Commander Connor closely to get you up to speed on all procedures necessary for a rights investigation."

"Yes, sir," said Telar, and Ellison winced slightly.  It was hard enough to keep his professional and personal lives separate when he gave orders; hearing Telar acknowledge them was somehow worse.  He knew he had to keep Lieutenant Telar, xenologist, apart from the man who shared his life and his bed, but when he watched his partner dress before going on-shift, or when he had to suppress the urge to ask how Telar's day had been, or when, as now, a young Vulcan lieutenant said "Yes, sir," in the voice that he heard in his dreams, the impossibility of it all struck him.

A hand brushed his face.  "Follow my voice." 

Ellison snapped back to himself to see Connor staring at him, and to feel Telar's hand warm against his skin.  "I'm sorry.  I--"

"What did you zone on, Jim?"  The tone was professional, but the name intimate, and behind Telar, Ellison saw Connor's eyes widen.

"I don't know.  Later."

"As you wish."  And the hand was gone, and it was the Starfleet officer who sat near him now, not his Guide, not his partner, but merely the scientist.  "Is that all, sir?"

"I expect the two of you to work out your own schedule for this," Ellison said, surprised by the steadiness of his voice.  "Dismissed."

"Sir," they said, in unison, and left.

Alone, Jim Ellison put his head in his hands and let himself shake.

* * *

Ellison and Telar had taken to playing chess in the rec room several nights a week.  Ellison noticed that the Vulcan members of the crew ignored Telar, their eyes sliding past him.  They never spoke to him, never acknowledged his presence in any way.

"Counselor Deka thinks you don't socialize with the other Vulcans," he said, casually, one night after Telar had returned from his information session with Connor.  "But that's not it, is it?  *They* don't socialize with *you*.  You don't exist for them."

Telar flickered an eyebrow at him.  "They don't care for my family," he said, as he moved his rook.  "I am afraid, Jim, that I am something of an embarrassment to my homeworld."

Ellison looked across the table and caught the laughter in Telar's blue eyes.  Telar, seeing the look, gave him a brief half-smile, dazzling in its sweetness, then leaned forward and lowered his voice.  "I can also guarantee you that one of them will speak to you about me, having heard you ask.  They keep a very close ear on me.  After all, I'm not to be trusted off-Vulcan."  His tone was mocking, and Ellison was torn between the desire to grin and the desire to ask about the faint sense of hurt he could feel in his partner.

"You're not serious," he said.

Telar raised his shoulders slightly.  "I am perfectly serious.  Stay here after I leave tonight and see for yourself."

Ellison frowned, but when Telar left for their quarters a half-hour later, he stayed behind, amusing himself by tracing the pieces with his fingers, cataloging their variations.  Touch was a pleasure now, and he marveled at the wealth of sensation under his fingertips: silky wood, sharp edges, skin oils, the odd rough patch.  Casually, he eavesdropped on the Vulcans until one of them, a Security officer named Sitan, came over to him.

"Captain Ellison."

"Lieutenant Commander Sitan."

"May I speak with you, sir?"

Ellison nodded and gestured at a chair.  "Sit down."

As the Vulcan moved to the seat Telar had vacated, Ellison silently compared him to his partner.  Telar, except for his blue eyes and curly hair, was almost stereotypically Vulcan: long arms and legs, broad shoulders, narrow hips, his skin a dusky olive.  Sitan had pale brown skin and was at least ten centimeters taller than Telar, with a heavy frame.  Despite this, he moved with Vulcan grace, and somehow managed to remind Ellison of a bear with ballet training.

"What's on your mind?" Ellison asked, leaning back, twirling one of the pawns between his fingers, feeling the waves of carved hair beneath his fingers, remembering Telar's slow breathing as he'd spoken of the death of the man who had been both his cousin and his brother.

Sitan reached out.  "May I?"  Ellison handed him the pawn.  "It is lovely work.  I do not understand the imagery."

"I imagine that Lieutenant Telar does.  It was carved by a relative of his."

Sitan looked mildly surprised.  "Telar has no relations."

"That's not what he told me," Ellison answered, listening as Sitan slowed his breathing.  Vulcan control was easy to read with his senses, and he realized that Telar was, either by accident or design, giving him a great deal of practice in reading Vulcans.  That solid control that he'd spent years trying to get past was nearly invisible to him now.

"Captain.  I do not mean to malign Lieutenant Telar, but my duty requires that I speak of this to you.  He is not what he has represented himself to be."

Ellison fought a surge of anger and answered civilly.  "He is my Guide, Lieutenant Commander."

"He is not suited for the life he has chosen."  Sitan looked down, and Ellison could see that he was struggling, on the verge of losing control. 

Interesting, he thought.  He looks like he's about to cry.  Out loud, he said, "I have no cause to complain.  He has never given me any reason to doubt his skill or his commitment."

Sitan bowed his head for a moment, and then stood up.  "I ask, sir, that you consider what I have said."  He set the pawn down gently.  "I also ask that you consider what you shelter.  Telar is not worthy of your protection."

Ellison could feel anger coursing through him, and he didn't bother to disguise it.  "Your concerns are duly noted.  Dismissed."

The Vulcan looked slightly taken aback, but inclined his head and moved away.

Ellison picked up the pawn and held it tightly until his own scent covered all trace of Sitan's.

* * *

Chapter 4

The Jonas slid into the parking orbit around Vulcan where she would stay for five days, and shore leave parties began to go planetside.  Ellison, who rarely took shore leave, allowed Telar to persuade him to visit VrashKahr, the small city where he had grown up.  They beamed into the entry point and began to walk through the city, towards the cliff wall at its edge.  "My mother lives in the da'Nikh'rup Quarter." 

Ellison frowned.  "Da'Nikh'rup?  The Blue Eye Quarter?"

Telar took a deep breath.  "What you would call a ghetto."  He laid his hand in the small of Ellison's back, in the formal position of a 'Fleet-trained Guide, and began to guide him through the narrow, winding streets.

Ellison, whose duties had occasionally taken him to Vulcan Space Central or the Science Academy in ShiKahr, looked around him with interest.  VrashKahr was not as old as ShiKahr, which was the oldest permanent settlement on the planet, but it was old.  The buildings were cut from weathered sandstone, and the streets were made to accommodate pack animals and small jarel-drawn carts, not modern groundcars and flitters.

Somehow, he doubted that that troubled the Vulcans.  They probably viewed the exercise as logical, more logical than tearing down buildings that had stood for a thousand years or more.  Here and there a modern building rose, gleaming and out of place; he half-expected to turn a corner and come face-to-face with Surak himself.

The Vulcans that they passed on the streets were, he noticed, staring at Telar.  They tried to appear to be studying any number of other things, but it was Telar who caught their attention.  They ran their eyes over his body and made low-voiced comments in a language that sounded like Vulcan but which Ellison did not understand.  Twice, they passed young males who narrowed their eyes and stepped back.  Ellison could smell those two; they wanted Telar, and their carefully hidden lust was disconcerting.

"Telar--" he said, and was surprised and pleased to see that his partner looked amused.

"You begin to see why I left Vulcan, Jim.  One can only take so much of this particular type of illogic before one runs a little mad."

"Why are they--"

"They assume that I submit to you sexually.  The Vulcans on the ship make the same assumption.  They do not understand why I tolerate it."

"Submit?"  Ellison frowned, puzzled. "You mean whips, chains, that whole deal?"

Telar's breathing slowed, and Ellison dug his fingernails into his palms.  He didn't like it when Telar was upset, and he could sense it through their bond.  "Not whips and chains, no.  But I come from a caste called hakausu'lar.  Hakausu is the old word for 'healer'.  We translate our name these days as 'soul-healers.'"  He paused.  "Soul-healing is a prestigious vocation for a woman.  It is something else entirely for males."  His breathing slowed even further.  "Hakausu males are presumed to be submissive homosexuals, who will lie down for any in his need.  We are not treated well."

He broke off and was silent for a long moment.  "I found that treatment to be unacceptable, and chose to leave Vulcan."

"And they don't like it."

"They will never say that."

"They don't have to," Ellison said, meeting the eyes of one disapproving woman with a cool stare.  Telar's fingers pressed gently on his back, and Ellison got the distinct impression that his partner was grinning, although his expression was as impassive as ever.

As they walked, the looks they got changed.  Ellison saw a young boy smiling at them, and the tall woman by his side watching them with naked hunger on her face.  Both of them had blue eyes.  As he watched, the boy ran towards them and took Telar's hand in his.  Telar touched the boy's forehead with two knuckles, and the boy released him, laughing.  Ellison stared after him as he ran back to his mother.

"What was that about?"

"That boy hopes that one day, he will be a shika'ree."

"The one who decides on the hunting course?"

Telar looked at him, an expression of mild surprise on his face. "How did you learn it?  It is not a common word." 

"Wrote an article on Vulcan martial philosophy a few years back.  The shika'ree concept's all through pre-Surakian literature."  He grinned at Telar.  "Did you know that Vulcans have more ways to break necks than any other race in the galaxy?"

Telar raised an eyebrow, then said, "I am both shika'ree and pyllora; hunting guide and meditation guide.  What I am is not within the comprehension of most Vulcans; we have no word for someone who is both.  You see, one would never be both shika'ree and pyllora; it violates the order of things.  There is the Golic word 'kakhartya', guide, but it does not encompass all that I do, any more than the other words do, and I choose not to use it."

Telar was amused again, Ellison thought.  The sense of his partner through their bond was both warm and bitter, and he realized that it was a familiar sensation.  Telar seemed amused by many odd things, but the amusement was not pure; it was shot through with pain.  He shook his head.  "Golic?"

"A language," Telar said.  "Surak united our government, Jim, not our speech."

They reached a residential section of VrashKahr, small stone houses with their backs to a cliff face.  Ellison could see steps and openings carved into the cliff.  The Vulcans on the street were openly watching them, and Ellison noticed with some surprise that well over half of them were female.  He saw only two adult males, one of whom so resembled Telar that Ellison murmured "Your father?"

"Another cousin," Telar answered.  "The relationship is doubled; my mother's sister is his mother; my father's brother is his father.  Not legally, of course--males of my caste have no legal access to their children."

"What?" 

"We are, after all, not to be trusted," Telar said.  "If we live long enough to father children, it means that we have chosen to lie down for other men rather than to commit honorable suicide."

"And no one sees anything wrong with this?  Telar, this isn't *legal* under Federation law."

Telar looked at him.  "Vulcan is a founding member of the Federation, Jim.  The grandfathering is extensive.  Under certain circumstances, slavery is still legal here."

"You're kidding."

"No, of course not.  Ambassador Spock's first wife was slave-bondmate to Stonn of ShiKahr after her marriage to Spock was dissolved."

"I've studied Vulcan culture for years and never come across this information," Ellison said.

"You would not be learning it now were you not my bondmate, Jim.  It is not meant for outworlders."

They made their way to a house near the cliff, surrounded by a low wall.  Red-leaved trees shaded the entry to the house.  "Induka," Telar said.  "They take a great deal of water, but da'Nikh'rup-VrashKahr is built over a spring in the desert.  There is more than enough water for the induka."

The door to the house opened, and Ellison found himself face-to-face with a tall, red-haired Vulcan woman.  I'd know her anywhere, he thought.  She has his face.  "James Ellison," she said.  "Welcome to our house."

"Mother," Telar said, "do not--"

"I have food prepared," she said.  "In here, please."

"Mother," Telar said again.

She looked at him.  "It is good to see you, my son."

Ellison turned to his partner.  "Chief?"

Telar shook his head and followed his mother into the dining room.  Slowly, unsure, Ellison followed.

* * *

Telar uncurled himself from around his sleeping Sentinel and went to join his mother in the main room of the house.  T'Nao was restless, and she did not meet his eyes as he entered the room.  Her earrings caught the light as she moved.  She reached the wall, and turned.  "He is male."

"That is a redundant statement, my mother."

"I had hoped--"

"We both hoped.  I know.  But my Time draws nearer every day, my mother.  I would not return here to die or to shame myself."

Telar watched his mother pace the room.  She gestured with her hands, though her voice was calm.  "I did not want this for you.  If I had thought--"

"Mother."

"--for one moment that you would be subjected to--"

"Mother."

"--such an unbearable situation, I--"

"MOTHER!"

She stopped pacing and stared at him.  "Telar, do not *shout* at me."

"Mother, will you listen to me?"

"What is it, my son?"

"My reasoning is this.  I can die.  Or I can live.  If I live, I have two choices: be a Guide, or be a soul-healer.  The latter means lying down for anyone who wishes me, no matter who, no matter his need.  The former at least gives me some measure of choice.  At least with Jim I have a partnership.  I have respect.  That can be enough to live on, my mother.  It must be."

She stared at him.  "You care for him."

"He has become a friend.  For that, I am profoundly grateful.  I do not desire him, Mother.  But I share a bond with him.  I share time with him, and his company is pleasant.  At least I may have *that* from my life."

"Telar, if I had known--"

"Mother, if *I* had known, I would not have entered the program.  But when presented with this option, knowing what it would entail, I took it.  It *is* acceptable.  What I have is a chance to live without--"  He broke off and stared at the floor for a moment.  "I have a chance to live without fear.  I have a chance to--have one companion, one partner.  To submit by choice."

"And do you submit to him?"

"He has never yet required it of me."

She touched long fingers to his face, just under one slanted brow.  "He will, my son.  What will you do then?"

Telar shook his head.  "I do not know, my mother.  I suppose that I shall bear it as I must."

T'Nao sighed.  "The boy-children already look to you and see freedom.  I look at you with a mother's eyes, and see my son, given too much to bear."

He touched his fingers to hers and did not answer.

* * *

Ellison sipped his juice and looked at the people filling the room.  Not so different from a human family gathering, he thought.  Conversations.  No laughter, though.  He shrugged and let his hearing roam, picking up fragments.  Most of Telar's relatives were speaking the same language he'd heard on the street, the one that sounded like the Vulcan he knew but wasn't.  He supposed it was Golic, and wondered if Telar knew enough of it to teach him.  Probably, since most of his family seemed to speak it.  Idly, he skipped over their conversations, stretching out his senses, enjoying the filtering sensation and the fineness of control he'd developed under Telar's tutelage.

He leaned against the wall and watched the water sculpture moving in the light.  As he watched colors play over it, he felt a sudden drop in his stomach, and every sense in his body focused on Telar.  Something was wrong.

He began to move towards his partner, brushing against people on the way, ignoring the looks he got.  There--Telar was there, talking to another look-alike cousin--everyone seemed to be his cousin, here--his hands knotted into fists at his side.  The cousin hissed through his teeth, a harsh string of words, and looked over Telar's shoulder at Ellison.  He looks like he's eaten something rotten, Ellison thought, missing Telar's clipped response.

He did not miss it when Telar stalked out of the room.  "What did you say to him?" he asked the cousin, who did not answer.  "What the hell did you say to him?"  Ellison said, hearing the snarl in his words.  The Vulcan took a step backwards, but kept his mouth shut.  Cursing under his breath, sensing Telar's anger and distress and shame through their bond, Ellison took off after his bondmate.

It took him a long time to find him, even with his senses.  The rock garden ran nearly back to the cliff, and while the area close to the house was organized and placed, the back was wild.  He followed the sound of Telar's breathing until he found a massive climbing rock, jutting up out of the sand.  Halfway up the rock face, there was a small cave.

Telar was in that cave.

How Telar had fit *into* that cave was a mystery that Ellison did not take the time to solve.  "Telar?"

"What do you want?"

"Are you alright?"

"I am fine."

Ellison laid his hand on the rock.  "You're not.  I can hear you.  I can feel you.  Please."

Telar said nothing for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was weary.  "Jim, I am fine.  Go back inside."

"Come on, Chief."

There was silence from above him.

"What did he say to you?"

There was no answer.

"Chief?"

He heard Telar stir.  "He implied certain things about our relationship."

"That we were having sex?"

"Yes."

"I didn't know it bothered you that much.  I thought--damn.  I thought we could work it out.  I'm sorry.  Maybe we shouldn't have--"

"No!  Do not think that.  You are my life-partner, my bondmate."  Telar's voice was steady.  "It gives me pleasure to give you pleasure, Jim; the bond would see to that even if I did not consider you my friend.  Do not think that our alliance is a mistake."

"Well--"

"It is the content of his implication that disturbs me, not its nature."  The Vulcan sighed.  "He implied that I lie down for you.  That I enjoy doing so."

Ellison frowned.  "So what?"

He heard Telar's breathing hitch.  "It is something not done here, Jim.  He also implied that you were coerced.  Unwilling.  That to achieve my own ends I had used my training to subvert you."

"Why the hell would he say something like that?  I swear, I'm going to kill--"

"You will not, Jim.  Please. "

"Not literally kill, just--"

"Jim."

"I won't let anyone treat you like that, dammit!"  His voice was too loud, and he winced as it rang in his ears.

"Jim, he cannot conceive of anything else.  I am a soul-healer by caste, if not by profession.  He is one as well, and embittered by it."

Ellison sighed and unclenched his fists.  The urge to storm back into the house and punch out Telar's tormentor was strong, but concern for his partner overrode it.  "Look, you're going to have to tell me.  What's a soul-healer?"

Once again, there was silence.

"Chief?  Does it have anything to do with why some of the men we passed on the way here wanted you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a Sentinel, Telar.  I could see it.  Smell it.   Hear it."

Above him, his partner sighed.  "You deserve to know, I suppose.  I suppose telling you was one reason I asked you to join me on this visit."  He looked down at Jim with a wry expression.  "On Terra, centuries ago, young women of a certain social group had two choices: to become a prostitute, or to become a domestic servant.  Men of my caste on Vulcan also have two choices: to become a prostitute, or to become a suicide.  Not infrequently, one follows the other."  He flicked one eyebrow at Ellison. "Hakausu'lar are ritual prostitutes.  The caste exists to serve unbonded males."  Ellison could hear a raw edge to his bondmate's voice, an edge he'd never heard before.  "For women, it is an honorable profession.  For men--most of us commit suicide rather than lie down for another in his Time."

"Oh, God," Ellison said, feeling Telar's pain like his own, twisting inside him like a living thing.

"It is not quite rape, Jim.  And not quite a sentence of death.  Some of us do survive it.  My cousin Saboa, who insulted me, has served more than once.  I would not wish to be him."  Telar's voice softened.  "I would rather die than be Saboa, Jim.  But I would rather submit to you than die.  I am your Guide, and you are my only hope."

Ellison looked up into the shadowed face of his partner and considered climbing the rock and trying to squeeze into the cave, but he suspected that he would neither fit nor be welcomed.  "Telar," he said.  "It's not--I wouldn't force you.  Ever.  If you *never* submit to me, it won't bother me in the slightest."

"I know," Telar said, and the edge was gone from his voice.  Ellison could hear other tones in it now; warmth and affection that were matched by Telar's gentle expression.  "I knew that from the start, or I would not have bound myself to you.  Please go back inside.  I cannot deal well with company now, even yours."

Ellison turned and walked back to the house.  He could still feel Telar's pain, and it made him furious--but it was a cool fury, the kind that would rather use words than fists.  By the time he walked into the room to face Telar's family, he was feeling positively vicious.

He sorted through the Vulcans rapidly, discounting similarities of voice and body and scent until he found Saboa.  Smiling, he headed for him.  "Saboa."

"Captain Ellison."

"Jim, please."  He smiled again.  "You know, I expect cheap insults from drunken humans, and from children.  Or Tellarites, come to think of it.  But not Vulcans.  Never Vulcans.  I thought you were more clever than that."  He deliberately kept his tone light and his smile sweet.

"I do not know--"

"Oh, you know exactly what you did.  It's beside the point, however.  I just thought that I should warn you not to ever hurt my bondmate again.  Ever.  Or I'll scatter you so widely that no one will ever find all the pieces."

Saboa blinked.  "He is not your bondmate.  We are incapable--"

Ellison hissed through his teeth.  "I feel him *here*."  He touched his temple.  "And if you *dare*, ever again, to call him anything but what he is--"

"He is a soul-healer."

"He is my Guide, and my bondmate, and a member of my crew."  Saboa lifted his chin, and Ellison saw blue eyes flash at him, blue eyes in a face so like Telar's, and suddenly, he knew.  Da'Nikh'rup.  The ghetto.  Earrings, long hair, blue eyes.  Without thinking, he whipped out a hand and caught the Vulcan's jaw.  "Look at me, damn you.  LOOK AT ME."

Saboa jerked his head away and took a step backwards, blue eyes blank with the fear that Ellison could smell rolling from him.

The fury turned hot within him, and he knew his smile was not a pleasant one.  "Do you think, Saboa, that the color of *my* eyes means I lie down for him?"

"No." 

Ellison raised his head a little and arched an eyebrow.  "Oh?  And why shouldn't I?  All he ever has to do, Saboa, is ask.  It would be my pleasure."  He crossed his arms.  "And I am no one's whore, blue eyes."  He leaned closer.  "But you--"

"Jim!"

He turned and saw Telar standing in the doorway, and became conscious of the silence of the room, and of all the eyes that were watching him.  He met Telar's eyes and saw something there.  Something warm, warmer than the gentle affection Telar had shown outside.

Telar was *laughing.*  Not outwardly, but Ellison could feel it inside of him, the empathic bond between them alive with it.  "Jim," Telar said, "attend." 

Ellison looked at the extended two fingers of his partner's hand, and grinned.  Telar was *playing along*, playing the role of dominant partner.

He moved across the room quickly and touched his fingers to his partner's.

"Excuse us, please," Telar said to his relatives.  "It has been a long day for my bondmate."  He turned, the pressure of his fingers on Ellison's warning him to turn, too.   Together, they left the house and went to the rock garden, to stand together looking out over the city.

After a moment, Telar said, "Jim, you must promise me never to--"

"I won't, dammit!  They--"

"--do something like that out of my hearing.  I am afraid I missed the full effect."

Ellison stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh.

When he had calmed down, they stood there for a while in silence.  The wind was cold, and the desert was cooler at night than Ellison had expected.  He moved closer to Telar for warmth.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked.

"Always," the Vulcan answered.

"I like your hair down," Ellison said, softly, knowing it was a non sequitur.  He reached out, wanting to touch, but left his hand hovering in the air.

"Yes," Telar said, and Ellison took one step closer and let his fingers close on hair as soft as silk.  He slid his hand through the curls until he could feel the curve of Telar's skull against his palm.

He took another step closer.  "Please," he said, and Telar's dark blue eyes blinked once in the darkness.  Slowly, he bent and touched his lips to the Vulcan's, and felt him open his mouth.  He slipped his tongue inside, tasting him, finally tasting him.

He drew back, breaking the kiss, staying close enough to feel Telar's breath, warm and damp.  Then he kissed him again, unhurriedly, wanting to savor the intimacy of this moment, the feel of Telar's mouth and the faint taste of fruit and salt.

When he broke the kiss again, Telar's eyes were closed.  After a moment, the Vulcan shook his head and looked up at him.  "I do not believe that I could ever lie down for you."

Ellison pressed his forehead to Telar's and gently massaged the bone beneath his fingers.  "Doesn't matter."

"You must lie down for me, Jim, when my Time comes upon me."

"Mm."

"That does not bother you?"

"No."

Telar took a step backwards, and Ellison could see the confusion in his eyes.  "No?"

Ellison let his hand slip over the Vulcan's face before letting him go.  "I meant what I said to Saboa.  All you ever have to do is ask.  And I hope you will."

Telar cocked his head, and ran the tip of his tongue quickly over his lips.  "You are my Sentinel," he said.  "I am your Guide.  What will be, will be."

Ellison studied him, letting his vision work on its own, clearing out the shadows of Vulcan's moonless night.  "I'd like it if--before your Time, we could--" He took a deep breath.  "You could hurt me, you know, if you let it go too long.  We should at least try, before."

Telar looked away, his face neutral as he stared out at the city beyond the garden gates.  "It is logical, Jim.  Never let it be said that humans have no capacity for logic."

Ellison came closer and slid his hand under Telar's hair to rest on the back of his neck.  "I'm sorry.  This wasn't--" And then he felt the sudden, startling pressure back against his palm.  Telar, leaning into his touch.

"It will happen, Jim.  I simply need time."

They stayed that way, as still as if painted, until the wind chilled them both through.

* * *

Ellison woke the next morning and wandered into the kitchen to fix himself tikh porridge with Qir'lal, one of his favorite Vulcan dishes.  Humming softly, he chopped the Qir'lal root, remembering Telar's body warm against his, blue eyes blinking at him sleepily before the Vulcan had rolled away to let him up.  So many mornings he'd woken to find Telar stoically enduring his embrace, that lean body stiff, only relaxing when he moved away.  This morning, though, it was as though Telar had let go.  He probably had, Ellison realized; Telar had probably been deeply afraid that he'd be asked to "submit".

Submit.  As if letting another person into your body was submission.  Ellison sighed and shook his head.  We have a marriage to work on, he thought.  The partnership is fine.  We've both been working on that.  But the marriage--we need that to work, too.

He heard T'Nao enter the kitchen behind him, and turned to her.  "T'sai T'Nao."

"Captain."

He picked up the Qir'lal and put it in the steamer, thinking how much, and how little, she resembled her son.  "Sleep well?"

"You know how to make tikh porridge?"

"Telar and I cook a lot.  There's a lot of replicated food I can't handle."  He shrugged and looked at her.  "Synthetic fabrics, too.  Medications.  Luckily, Starfleet thinks Sentinels are worth the trouble, or I'd be looking for another job.  God only knows what Telar'd be doing."

She touched the earrings in her left ear and studied him.   "I wish to speak to you about Telar."

"What about him?"

"I do not approve of his relationship with you."

Ellison crossed his arms and returned her study of him, with interest.  "You don't have to.  He's a grown man.  And I need him with me."

"This is not a proper life for him.  To be partnered with someone who cannot see him as he is, who uses him as a tool for control or a toy for pleasure--"

"He's not a tool, and he's not a toy, and he's with me because he wants to be with me.  I don't care if you believe that."  Ellison could feel his jaw clenching.  His life with Telar was hard enough, confusing enough--and he was frightened enough of what would happen if he lost him--that he wasn't sure he could handle this conversation without snapping at T'Nao.

"I cannot believe it.  He is my son, James Ellison, my son, and I must protect him.  This is not right for him.  He cannot submit to you--"

Ellison slammed his hand on the counter.  "What is *with* the submission thing?  Because I don't *get* it.  Does this whole *planet* have a massive kink I should know about?"

She turned a delicate shade of green.  "When a man lies with another man, one of them must submit."

He stared at her.  "Well. Would you mind telling me where you got that idea?"

"It is the way things are, Captain."

"Not where I come from, my lady."

She blinked at him.

He sighed, and rubbed his forehead.  "Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise you that I will never force him to 'submit' to me.  If you don't believe me, ask him.  He knows when I'm telling the truth."

T'Nao took a step closer, her expression perplexed, but serious.  "I believe you, James Ellison," she said, "but he is my son."

"I can tell," he said, not knowing how else to respond, and turned back to the porridge.

* * *

Telar knelt in the gritty soil, tamping the earth around the fek-kastik that his mother liked to grow around the back wall of the house.  He shook his head, feeling the flick of the nictitating membrane across his eyes, protecting them from the sun.  It was a strange feel, one he was no longer used to.  It rarely happened on board the ship, with its pale artificial light.  He wondered if Starfleet was making him pale and artificial; if he was being shaped into something Vulcans were never meant to be: a man who was a lover of another man, bound for life.

Jim is a lover of men, he thought, and is he less for it?

"He is *human*," he muttered, under his breath, brushing sand from his hands to get a better grip on the young fek-kastik.

"Hey."

Telar's head snapped up, and he blinked at the shadow standing in front of him.  As his eyes adjusted to the shade, the membrane snapping back, the shadow resolved into Megan Connor.  "Commander?"

She knelt down.  "What are you planting?"

"Fek-kastik.  My mother's favorite."

She grinned.  "My mum likes roses."

Telar brushed his hair back out of his eyes.  "Roses do not grow well in this soil, or this heat.  And, even here--we have a great deal of water here, for Vulcan--roses take too much."

His hair slipped forward again as he leaned over to settle the plant in the ground.  He saw her reach out to smooth it back, and then realize what she was doing.  Her hand hovered just above his forehead.  "You've got sand in your hair."  She ran a strand through her fingers without touching his skin.

"Yes," he said.  "In fact, I have quite a bit of sand all over me."

She moved her hand, holding the fek-kastik steady as he finished pressing the soil around it.  "You're sandy, all right."

He looked up and brushed his hair back again, leaving streaks of sand on his skin.  "Sandy?"

"Sandy."  She smiled at him.  "So, is Jim around?" 

"Yes.  You need to see him?"

"Well..." she looked away.  "Well, I need to talk to him.  We've got an ambassador assigned for the mission, and I wanted to tell him.  I've never been to anywhere but major cities on Vulcan, so I came in person."  She winked.  "Do you blame me, Sandy?"

"I suppose not.  Come.  He is in the house."

They stood and headed for the house, and Telar thought of how her hand had felt, so close to his body; sweet and cool and feminine.  Jim's hands on his skin were nothing like that, not so tempting, not a touch that made his body tense in pleasant anticipation.  Or they hadn't been, not at the beginning.  But now?  Now, when he could remember Jim's mouth on his?

Now, he did not know.

Telar wondered if he would ever adjust to the strangeness of his bonding.

* * *

Ellison watched Telar walk ahead of him to their shared quarters.  They'd been assigned an ambassador, finally; T'Ket of Vulcan.  She had a formidable reputation and one of the best rights investigation success rates in the Federation.  She was the motivating force behind Starfleet's current debate on whether to assign ambassadors to Judicial Corps ships on a permanent basis, and Ellison had the uneasy feeling that the Jonas had been selected as a guinea pig for the project.  He'd been specifically told to monitor her integration with the crew.  Connor had grinned at him when she'd told him that, and then had glanced over at Telar and said "Oh, Sandy, don't look so *grim*."  Then she'd patted him lightly on the arm.

Telar, who had been studying the padd which held T'Ket's file, had looked up, his expression faintly stricken, and had not answered.  Since then, he had been silent and withdrawn, and Ellison wondered if it was Connor's familiarity that was troubling him, or something else.  Telar would not admit to upset, but there it was, between them.  Perhaps, he thought, it is just the thought of tolerating yet another Vulcan who does not understand.

Or perhaps, a voice inside him whispered, perhaps it is something else; something worse; something dark.

Ellison tried to ignore the voice, but he couldn't ignore the worry, or what had happened when Connor touched Telar: a surge of desire through his bondmate, small, subtle, quickly gone, but there.  The man who was his partner and his friend, the Guide he was bound to for life, wanted someone else.

He decided that he would have to back off, have to wait to kiss him again.  Telar had responded that night on Vulcan, and he had allowed himself to hope, but perhaps he should not do so.  Perhaps he should simply be grateful for what Telar did give him: release and a steady supply of physical contact.

"Jim?"  Telar's voice was soft, his arm firm around Ellison's waist.  "Jim, are you well?" 

Ellison blinked.  The affection he felt in the bond was real; the concern was real.  He shivered, not knowing what to make of it--Telar was quick to offer formal public contact, or anything required in private--but this was new, as new as the kiss had been.  Ellison pulled away slightly and said "It's nothing.  Don't worry about it."

Telar frowned at him for an instant, then continued walking.

They reached their quarters, and Telar entered first, heading directly into the bedroom and sitting on the bed.  "Jim."

"What?"

"Come here."

Ellison walked over to his bondmate, who reached out and drew him down to the bed, pressing close to him.  "I do not know what has upset you," Telar said, keeping his voice soft.  "Let me help."

"Nothing you can do," Ellison said, lying quiet and unresisting on the soft cotton bedspread.  He looked down to see Telar's eyes closed, the faint hint of a wrinkle creasing his brow.  He wondered then if he was worried needlessly, and slid an arm around the Vulcan, holding him close, letting himself enjoy the heat of his bondmate's body.

Since his senses had come on line, he'd been sure of so little.  Was it too much to ask to be sure of Telar?

Chapter 5

Ellison tugged lightly as his collar as they waited for the ambassador to board.  Telar joined him, his left hand pressed lightly against the small of Ellison's back.  The formal position was intimate and non-intrusive, and with Telar, it had never felt formal.  He felt himself relax at the touch, as he always did, and suddenly T'Ket did not seem such a burden.

Connor met them at the shuttle bay, and Ellison felt himself tense up.  "Hello, Sandy," she said, smiling, and winked at Ellison. 

"Good afternoon, Megan," Telar answered, his tone light, and it was all Ellison could do to keep from snarling at his first officer.  Instead, he jerked his head towards the door, indicating that he'd heard the bay repressurize.

Ambassador T'Ket stepped through the door, looking as fragile as the holos Ellison had seen of her implied.  She could probably break me in two, he thought, but she doesn't look it.  T'Ket was fine-boned and tall, as tall as Ellison himself; unusually tall for a Vulcan woman.  Although Vulcan men tended towards height--Telar, at 183 centimeters, was short for his race--the Vulcan women Ellison had met usually barely reached his shoulder.  "Ambassador T'Ket.  Welcome to the U.S.S. Justus Jonas.  I'm Captain Ellison; this is my first officer, Commander Megan Connor, and my Guide, Lieutenant Telar."

The ambassador nodded to Connor, and flicked her eyes over Telar dismissively.  Before Ellison could react, Telar spoke.  "Vulcan honors us with your presence.  We come to serve."

Ellison watched as T'Ket looked at his Guide, and then away.  She addressed him, not Telar, when she made the ritual answer.  "Your service honors us."

He felt Telar's familiar, bitter amusement through their bond, and smiled tightly as he said, "If you will follow me, we will show you to your quarters."  He heard her hiss slightly as he turned, and heard her breathing slow.  She was upset, greatly--probably by Telar, if his Vulcan crewmembers' reactions to his Guide were anything to go by.  Well.  In that case, she'd integrate well with them, though he admitted to himself that he would have been pleased to find her accepting of Telar.  She had a good deal more experience of other cultures than his crew, and he'd been half-hoping that she would treat Telar as Telar, and not as a non-entity.  Or worse; he suspected that the Vulcan crew was as cruel to Telar as their culture allowed them to be.

Telar's hand was warm against him, and he moved sideways as they escorted the ambassador to her quarters, letting his hip brush his partner's.  The Vulcan did not move away from the touch, and, although there was no longer a need for him to keep his hand in the formal position, he did not remove it.

Ellison wondered if Telar wanted the contact as much as he did.

* * *

Chapter 6

Telar snapped off his console and let his hands come to rest on his thighs.  Only three more days remained before the final report must be made to the Ambassador, and he was looking forward to being able to see the sunlight and the plants without the filter of the shielded observatory or field suits in the way.  They'd been here two months, and if everything went well, they'd be here another six performing follow-up evaluations and instituting compliance metrics.  The sentients-rights conditions on the planet were not dire, but there were marked elevations in abuse in both religious and racial categories since the last scheduled evaluation.

But no matter how the follow-ups went, he'd get more sleep in the next month than he'd gotten in the last two.  The rotating watch schedules had kept him out of sync with Jim three days out of every four.  The first night alone, he'd stretched out on the bed, relieved at not having to touch.  At being free from Jim.

He'd spent the night staring at the ceiling, missing the warm pressure of a body against his, and the noises Jim made when he dreamed.

In the past two months, he'd discovered that he rarely slept if Jim wasn't with him.  Most nights he spent in meditation. The nights he did sleep, he dreamed, and his dreams were dark and cold, and he always woke up suddenly, gasping for air. He knew, from the way Jim clung to him on their nights together, that the separation had been as hard on the Sentinel as it had on the Guide. 

He straightened his back and felt his vertebrae shift back into alignment.  Only three more days, and he would be able to sleep well.  With a sigh, he turned the console back on and began a second shift.

Three hours later, the door behind him hissed open.  "Hey."  Ensign Barrows dropped into the seat next to him.  "Don't you ever sleep?"

"I sleep," he said, trying not to be irritated.

"Not that I've noticed."  She rubbed her neck.  "I'll be glad when this part is over.  Hope the final report and contact goes well--if it does, I'm off of Sentient-Rights and on Familial Customs.  My favorite, and there's never been any good research on it here.  Heard you got Contact Team and Religious Customs--good luck."  She smiled and looked at him.  "So."

"So?"

"So what's he like?"

"Captain Ellison?"

"Yeah.  I mean, when his senses came online, we all thought--that's it, he's out of a command.  He's not all that close to his crew, but we like him.  Like the way he runs the ship.  I felt bad.  And then you turn up, and he's happier.  More relaxed.  So, what's he like?"

Telar looked at her and felt his mouth quirk.  "I am surprised, actually, that no one asked me this question before now."

"Well," she said, blushing, "you're a Vulcan."

He raised an eyebrow at her and did not answer. 

"So."  She switched on a console and began running scans.  "The captain."

Telar sighed.  "What do you want to know?"

She grinned at him.  "*You* know.  What is Starfleet's Sexiest Captain really like?"

Telar tensed, remembering Jim's body twisting in his arms and the look on Jim's face in the moment of orgasm, and just barely kept from curling his hands into fists.  He stood up and looked down at her, his expression set.  "He's very good at chess," he said, and walked away.

* * *

Ellison shook himself as the tingle from beam-down faded from his skin.   It wasn't an unpleasant situation, exactly, but it *was* different.  He'd never been able to feel beaming before his abilities came online, and the sensation still bothered him a bit.

He headed for the central scanning room in the temporary observatory.  They'd be pulling it off-planet tomorrow, and if he knew Telar, the Vulcan was probably working a double shift.

"Sir!"  Ensign Barrows jumped to her feet and looked at him. 

"Sit down, Ensign.  I was just looking for Lieutenant Telar."

"Oh."

"What's wrong?"

"He, um.  I said something to him and he left.  He seemed pretty upset about it."  She looked up at him.  "Well, upset for a Vulcan, sir."

"What did you say?"

She turned bright red.

"Oh," he said.  "I see.  Don't they teach 'How Not To Annoy Vulcans' at the Academy anymore?"

"Sir?"

"Nevermind, Ensign.  Carry on."

He left her in the scanning room and headed for the cramped crew quarters in the back of the observatory.

Telar was the only person there, lying still and silent on a narrow bunk.

Ellison stopped and looked at his partner, watching the patterns of light and darkness slide over the strong body.  Telar shifted restlessly, and Ellison opened his senses, letting in the Vulcan's scent, the sound of his breathing, the heat from his body.  Lust hit him unexpectedly, burning in the pit of his stomach, as sweet as that three-months-ago kiss in the Vulcan desert.  He turned to go, wanting to leave his partner to his rest.

"Jim."

He looked back at the bunk and found Telar blinking at him in the dim light.  For the first time, he noticed how exhausted the other man looked.  He hasn't been sleeping, either, he thought.  It's not just me.  It's both of us.  The relief was jarring in its suddenness.

Telar turned to his side and shifted over on the bunk.  The silent invitation sent another jolt of lust through Ellison, and he crossed the room swiftly and lay down on the bed.  He was surprised when Telar reached out and pulled him close, slipping under his arm and tucking his head against his shoulder.  The Vulcan had never denied him contact, but it had always seemed like he was just doing his duty.  This was different.  As he tried to quantify the difference, Telar moved again, sliding one knee between Ellison's own.  Ellison shivered, trying not to respond, but he was hard, and Telar could not fail to notice.

After a long moment, Telar spoke.  "When I was training to be a Guide, I was told that both Sentinels and Guides required frequent physical contact.  That has not true of my bond with you.  I have given you what you need, and little more.  There was no contact that was purely for myself.  I thought that it was because I am Vulcan.  There are no other Vulcan Guides."  He was silent for nearly a full minute, then spoke again.  "I find now that I have come to need you. I do not know why."  He pressed himself more closely against Ellison, who bit his lip as his body reacted to his Guide, warm hazy pleasure spreading from every point of contact between them.  He could feel Telar's heart beating, as familiar to him now as his own.

Telar's free hand caressed his chest lightly, and then the Vulcan leaned down and kissed him, his mouth open and gentle, tasting of fruit and salt as it had in the desert, his body trembling slightly as his caress became overtly sexual in a way it had never been before.  His touch had always been professional, even when he brought Ellison to orgasm as he had that first day; occasionally, it had been affectionate as well.  This was something else; this was sex, hot and sweet, with the taste of mangoes and fear.  Telar's hand slid down Ellison's side to his hip.  "Don't," Ellison said, though he craved the intimacy of sex and would have given anything--nearly anything--to have Telar touch him this way, wrapping those strong fingers around his cock.  "You won't--it's too--you won't let me.  And I don't want to use you."  He kept his body still as Telar stroked his hip.  "I'd rather wait, Chief."

"Why do you call me that?"

"What, 'Chief'?  I used to call lots of people that.  Got out of the habit, I guess, except with you."

Telar flexed his fingers, then raised his hand to brush Ellison's face.  "I will do as you ask for now, adun, but you must tell me if you need release."

"Adun?"

"I used to call lots of people that.  Got out of the habit."  He felt the Vulcan shift slightly, then sigh.  "No.  That is not so.  It means 'life partner.'"

Ellison turned his head and kissed Telar's palm, which jerked slightly in reaction.  "I can see I have to teach you about comedic timing."

"Was I making a joke, Jim?" 

Ellison grinned.  "I only have three hours," he said, ignoring his partner's--his bondmate's--last question.  "Let's get some sleep."

He stayed awake long after Telar had dropped off.  Telar had offered sex; Telar had said that he needed him.  He wondered how he'd had the strength to refuse, and wondered if he would give in the next time Telar offered.

Yes, he thought.  Yes.

* * *

Ellison dismissed the rest of the Contact Team members, but kept Connor and Telar back for a moment.  Ambassador T'Ket stayed as well.  He'd noticed her looking at his partner during the briefing, and wondered if she, like so many other Vulcans, harbored ill will towards Telar and his family.  "Yes, Ambassador?"

"Captain, I am concerned about the presence of hakausu on this mission."

Ellison's eyebrows shot up.  "I beg your pardon, Ambassador?"

"She means me," said Telar, his tone neutral.

Ellison frowned and looked back at the ambassador.  "Kindly explain why Lieutenant Telar's presence is a problem, Ambassador."

She inclined her head.  "I understand that he is your Guide.  He is, however, hakausu, a soul-healer, and therefore out of place here.  He is certainly out of place on this mission.  His profession does not allow for engagement in daily life.  I do not understand, Captain, why a soul-healer is off-Vulcan, let alone in Starfleet.  If he has told you otherwise of his background, he speaks untruthfully; hakausu males cannot always be trusted."

"I am well aware of Lieutenant Telar's background, Ambassador.  His education and experience lead me to believe that he is more than qualified for this 'engagement in daily life.'  He has not been educated as, nor does he serve as, hakausu."

She blinked, and did not answer.  Connor looked from the ambassador to Ellison and back again, plainly confused.

Telar's voice cut into the silence.  "If only I had killed myself, and saved you the trouble of worrying over me, okevet-dutar."  She looked at him, then back at Ellison.  After a moment, he continued.  "I chose life--surely a tragedy of the highest order."  She glared at him, her eyes dark.  Ellison sensed her body temperature rising, and her breathing slowing.  Telar gentled his voice abruptly.  "My caste is not an issue here.  This is not Vulcan, and I am a xenologist, not a soul-healer.  I suggest that you are not viewing the situation logically."

She did not look at him when she finally answered.  "You wear your caste-marks."

Ellison turned to his partner, and was surprised to see an expression of predatory amusement on the usually calm face.  "There is no shame in being my mother's son, okevet-dutar.  There is shame, however, in allowing emotionalism and cultural prejudice to cloud your vision."

"Captain," she said, icily, and left the briefing room.

Ellison studied his partner.  "Telar?"

The Vulcan met his eyes.  "I spoke only truth, Jim."

"Do you want to tell me why the hell you got so snippy with an ambassador?  If she complains--"

"She will not."  Telar's eyes flicked to Connor, then back to his bondmate. He sighed and pressed his palms to the surface of the table.  "Like most Vulcans, she does not wish our secret shame--the hakausu'lar--be exposed."  He raised his head.  "I will not be shamed, Jim.  Commander Connor.  I will *not*."

"What did you call her?" Connor asked.

"I called her 'honored ambassador' in Golic.  Hakausu'lar speak mostly Golic, and so I was refusing to show shame in my heritage.  I do not think she appreciated that."  He tapped one finger on the table.  "That I have chosen to live off-Vulcan, and not as hakausu, dishonors all of Vulcan, to her mind.  That I wear my caste-marks and do not disguise what I am is a grave offense indeed."  He looked at Ellison, his expression more serious than usual.  "I told you once I was an embarrassment to my homeworld, Jim.  This is why."

"All your family have blue eyes," Ellison said, remembering Saboa--remembering the dreamlike, clonelike beauty of Telar's relatives.

"Yes."  Telar quirked an eyebrow.  "A secondary effect of a genetic defect that makes us blind to telepathy, and normally unable to form mating bonds.  If it is, in fact, a defect.  Perhaps only prejudice names it so."

Ellison stared at him.  "Well.  That explains some things.  You and I, though--we'll talk later.  About why you only tell me half of any story.  In private."  Telar nodded, and Ellison shook his head.  "At any rate, Connor, Telar, I wanted to talk to you about the customs teams.  Now, Religious Customs..."

As he spoke, he noticed that Connor stood just a shade too close to Telar, and that he seemed unaware of it.  "Lieutenant Telar," he said, raising his voice a little, "the dominant faith here involves the worship of the goddess Latia.  I'd like you to focus your team on that if at all possible; I'm sure I don't have to tell you how important respect for major religious customs is."

Telar nodded, and reached for a padd on the table, his hand brushing Connor's on the way down.

Ellison forced himself not to react visibly, but he knew his heart was pounding, and from the sudden startled look Telar gave him, he knew that his bondmate had felt the rush of fear and anger. 

It didn't matter.  There was no time to spare for it now.  He gave Connor several assignments and sent them both on their way, not even looking up when Telar hung back, reluctant to leave.

* * *

Chapter 7

Ellison rested his head on his hands.  Six months.  Six months since they'd contacted the government on Nasaia about the status of local sentients-rights, six months of long, grueling work; the work they were trained to do.  He'd worked on the follow-up investigations, using his senses extensively, and he'd watched, pleased, as Telar handled Religious Customs with sensitivity and skill.

Six months of good work, and now they were headed back to Vulcan to drop off Ambassador T'Ket, and from there they were going to Terra for R&R.

Six months--and over a year now since his senses came on-line.

The change a year makes, he thought to himself.

Senses.  Telar.

Telar, his hair spilling out over the sheets of their bed, heat rising softly from his skin.

Telar's strong broad hands skimming over his body; the time six months ago when he'd refused his bondmate's first offer of sexual contact; the time a few weeks later when, desperately needy, he'd given in and let Telar slide his hand over his erection, let Telar breathe hotly against his neck and bring him off with his hand.

Telar pressed firmly against him this morning, their legs entwined, the Vulcan's penis hard against his hip.

God.  Ellison straightened abruptly.  Hard?  Telar?  Even as sex--non-reciprocal as it was, limited to the press of Telar's naked body and the lingering stroke of his fingers--became a regular part of their relationship, Telar had never, not once, gotten hard.  He sorted through his memories, isolating touch, isolating this morning.  "Oh, God," he breathed.  He closed his eyes and tried to figure out if this was new, or if he'd simply failed to notice it before.

Telar touched him more now, but Telar had never, not once, not even at the beginning, been stingy with touch.  The touches were more frequently accompanied by that flash of desire Ellison had first noticed when his bondmate touched Connor or she him, but Telar had stopped touching Connor nearly a month ago, and he shied away from contact when she reached out.

He'd started standing apart more in crowds, keeping himself just a little more separate from everyone, except from his partner.  "Oh, hell," Ellison whispered. 

Pon farr.

It had to be the approach of pon farr; there was no other explanation.

Well.  That was going to make R&R interesting.

Ellison checked the time.  Telar wasn't due back at their quarters for another hour, so he stood up and went to take a shower.

Sixty-seven minutes later, he looked up as the door swished open to admit his bondmate.  Telar looked as neat as he had that morning, but his eyes were tired.  "Jim," he said, and headed into the 'fresher.

After a minute, Ellison heard the shower running, and the soft fall of clothing to the floor, and then the ragged breathing and slowed heartbeat he'd come to associate with Telar's bathing.

The Vulcan emerged from the bathroom, damp and clean, his bare feet leaving traces of moisture on the carpet.  "Telar?"

"Yes, Jim?"

Ellison moved to the bedroom door and leaned against the wall.  "I've noticed some things, and I need to know what you think."

"Of course."  Telar slid his arms into his meditation robe and turned towards his bondmate.  "What things?"

"About you."

"Me?"

"You've stopped touching Connor.  And you've gotten clingy.  With me, I mean.  And this morning--"

Telar raised his chin.  "I was erect.  Yes."

"Yes.  And then there's this."  Ellison moved forward, reached out, slid his hand over Telar's chest, and felt it: that sharp, hard spike of desire in his bondmate.  Telar trembled underneath his fingers, and the desire vanished.  "So.  What do you think it means?"

"I can only conjecture."

Ellison leaned in, brushing his cheek against Telar's, and inhaled.  "You smell different, too.  Like..."

"Musk."

"Yes."

"Pon farr."

"Yes."

Telar lowered his head, his brow almost brushing Ellison's shoulder.  "I am not ready for this."

"You have to be."

"I have no wish to hurt you later.  When I cannot control myself.  Yet I do not think that I can do this."

"You can."

Telar sighed and slid his arms around Ellison's waist.  "Your culture does not stigmatize this act.  Mine does.  I cannot bear to see you submit to me.  You are my captain."

Ellison reached up and tangled his fingers into the Vulcan's hair.  "It's not submission.  I swear to you, it's not submission."

"I do not see how it can possibly be an experience you would enjoy."

Ellison pulled away.  "Come here.  Let me show you something."  He walked to his bedside table and pulled out a narrow box.  He opened it and held it out to his partner.

"What is--oh."  Telar reached into the box and ran one finger over the blue-swirled length of the toy inside.

"Yeah.  Oh."  Ellison sat down on the bed and crossed his legs.  "I have that because I *like* it, Telar.  Toys are no substitute for the real thing--but they're fun all the same."

"I did not expect that you would--"

"Look, my senses are under control.  The material feels different, but good.  And I miss having someone inside me."  Telar looked away, and Ellison leaned forward.  "I'm not quite the 'Fleet whore I'm rumored to be.  But I *do* miss it.  It's a part of my life *before* this Sentinel thing that I loved.  I'm not going to apologize for that."  Telar's eyes flickered back to him briefly, and then down to the box which held the slim plastic dildo.  Ellison sighed.  "Telar.  Look at me."

The Vulcan complied, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"You *have* to know how to do this.  It's too dangerous to leave to chance.  You could hurt me badly otherwise."

He watched as his partner took a deep breath, and nodded slowly.  "Flawlessly logical, as always."  Telar set the box down on the bed and removed his robe, hanging it back in the closet.  He turned back to his bondmate and met his eyes squarely.  "Take off your clothes, Jim."

Ellison smiled.  "You take them off."

Telar's body trembled slightly, and Ellison felt that hard spike of desire again, intense and painful, stronger than human desire.  "I cannot touch you yet.  Please."

Ellison stripped slowly, aware of Telar's eyes on him, eyes that were beginning to burn.  He wondered what Telar would look like, out of control, his body coated in sweat, moving over him and in him, those bright blue eyes clouded by passion.  His penis stirred at the thought, and he took a deep breath, tasting Telar on the air.

Heat; musk; fear; an edge of desert sand.  He lay back and opened his legs, let one foot dangle to the floor, bent his knee so the other foot was flat on the mattress.

Telar moved to the bed and knelt on it, just beyond his reach.  Ellison moved his foot, brushed it against the Vulcan's shin, and felt gratified when Telar neither flinched nor moved away.  Slowly, he sat up, leaned forward, reached out.

The strong bones of Telar's face were hard against his palm; the ear warm underneath his fingers.  For a moment, he held still, breathing in his partner's scent through parted lips, and then he tugged gently on Telar's head, pulling him into a kiss.

Telar did not move for a moment, and then his mouth opened, his tongue sliding along Ellison's.  Their bodies brushed together, and Ellison felt the press of Telar's hand against the side of his head.  The Vulcan moved back slightly, their mouths parting with a soft, wet sound, and dropped the hand to Ellison's hip.  He pressed gently against the sharp jut of hipbone, and Ellison slid his hips forward and lay back against the bed.

Slowly, Telar followed him down.

Telar's mouth on him was hotter than he had imagined, the mouth of a man who knew how to evoke response in his partner.  He slipped one arm behind his Guide, bringing their hips together, gasping as the heat of Telar's hard thigh met his cock; as he felt Telar's own arousal against his stomach.

"Sssh," he whispered against the Vulcan's mouth, not knowing why he said it.  Telar whimpered softly in response, the sound heartbreaking in its vulnerability.

He hooked one leg around Telar's and pressed closer, feeling Telar move above him, rocking gently, sliding his hands down his sides.  Telar's skin was hot against his, and he could feel sweat, slick between them.

"Lube," Ellison said, when Telar released his mouth.  The Vulcan was panting softly, his body trembling slightly. 

"Jim," he said, "let me touch you."

"You're touching me.  Come on, come *on*..." Ellison knew he was begging, but it had been so long.  And Telar *wanted* this, his body reacting, desire running back and forth through the bond--*please*, Ellison thought, *please* let me have this.

He felt Telar reach over to the nightstand, heard the soft wet sound of lubricant spreading across fingers, and then Telar kissed him again: heat and fruit and salt and the smell of Vulcan musk--

--and Ellison arched upward, eyes wide, as one strong finger slipped into his body.  So long, he thought, so long since--

--and Telar pulled back, pulled away, his voice hoarse with strain.  "No.  No, Jim.  No..."  He scrambled backwards until Ellison's crooked leg halted him, his entire body flushed pale green, his hands shaking.  "No," he said, "no, no..."

Chapter 8

Ellison sat up and reached out.  "Hey--hey.  What's wrong?"  He could feel Telar's panic surging through the bond, supplanting desire with fear.  He touched Telar's shoulder, and suddenly those shaking hands were gripping his arms with bruising force.  "Hey," he said again, trying to hold on to Telar through the pain, not knowing what had triggered this reaction.  "Chief, come on.  Let go.  Chief, please--"  Telar's fingers dug into his skin, the nails cutting deeply enough to draw blood.

Oh, hell, Ellison thought, and tried to free himself, realizing for the first time just how strong his bondmate was; how badly he could be hurt if Telar didn't release him.  "I cannot do this," Telar whispered, his voice ragged.

"Do what?"  There was no answer but the hiss of breathing and the too-rapid beating of Telar's heart.  "Telar--let go.  Please."  He was starting to panic himself, now, though he didn't know if the panic was his own or whether it was bleeding over the bond from Telar.

--and Telar let go, abruptly.  "Jim.  Jim, I am sorry.  Are you injured?"

Ellison took a deep breath, feeling the panic easing.  "I'm--I'll be fine."  He swallowed and touched the small half-circle cuts on one shoulder.  "Chief, what the hell happened?"  He could hear Telar's heartbeat slowing, down below normal, into that range that said his bondmate was keeping close control of himself.  "Chief?"

"I cannot do this to you.  You are my captain and my mate--I cannot have you submit to me."  He shook his head, his tangled hair rasping over his skin.  "I cannot be like those who force my cousins to serve them.  Like those who drove my brother to suicide rather than submit ever again."

"Telar--"

"I need you too much!"  Telar's heartbeat was speeding up again, and his voice was raw.  "I cannot lose you to *this*.  There must be some other way."

Ellison swallowed, trying to wet his throat.  "There is.  If you trust me."

Telar looked at him, his chest heaving slightly, the sharp scent of arousal and fear and sweat filling the space between them.  "I cannot lose you, Jim," he said.

"Trust me, Chief."

Slowly, Telar nodded.  "It has never been you that I do not trust."

Ellison reached out, pressed gently on his bondmate's shoulder.  "Lay down.  On your back.  And just let me do this."

Telar closed his eyes and lay back.  Ellison brushed one hand over the Vulcan's skin, down to the firm dusky arc of his cock.  He traced the veins on the underside with his fingers, feeling the skin twitch softly.  Telar's breathing and heartbeat were both faster than normal, and Ellison smiled as he lowered his head and followed the veins again, this time with his tongue.

Telar shuddered silently, and his hand touched Ellison's cheek, fingers pressing to the meld points he could not use.

Ellison slid his mouth over Telar's erection, learning the feel of it in his mouth, tasting the subtle differences that meant *Vulcan* and *Telar*.   "Jim, stay with me," he heard Telar say.  "Do not zone.  Stay--" and then a sound like a sob, when he flicked his tongue against the underside of Telar's cock.

Ellison fumbled for the abandoned lubricant and found it hidden in a fold of the sheets.  He flipped open the top and spread the gel over Telar's fingers before moving up to straddle his partner.  "In me," he said, hearing the hoarseness in his voice, guiding Telar's hand.  "Just--" and he inhaled sharply as Telar slipped his finger inside again.

And Telar reached up with his other hand, reached up and slid his hands over the meld points and past them, wrapping his broad strong fingers over the back of Jim's head and pulling him down into a kiss as he pressed another finger inside.

"I can do *this*," Telar murmured against Ellison's mouth.  "As long as you are not beneath me, I can do *this*."

"Hm."  Ellison picked up the lube and began to coat Telar's penis.  "Can you do this?"

Telar made that raw sobbing sound again.  "I believe I can."

Ellison raised his body and steadied himself.  "Tell me if you need me to stop."

Telar rested his hands on Ellison's hips and looked up at him, his expression unreadable for once, his heartbeat elevated.  Ellison nodded, and pressed backwards, feeling his body open to Telar, feeling the heat and pressure of living flesh within himself.  Please, he thought, oh please, please. Telar trembled beneath him and tightened his grip.

Ellison touched his forehead to his bondmate's, and felt hot fingers brushing the meld points on his face.  "I cannot touch your mind," Telar whispered.

"You're my Guide," Ellison answered, moving gently against his bondmate, loving the feel of this.  "My *Guide*," he said, "it's *enough*, it's *everything*."

And Telar closed his alien blue eyes, and suddenly--

--like Jericho--

--Ellison felt the world fall away.

Telar arched and twisted under him, slid one arm around him and thrust upwards, and Ellison moved with him, against him, taking him in--

"--love you, Telar, please--" and Ellison bit down on Telar's shoulder to keep from begging, to keep control--

--and beneath him, that hard strong body shuddered in orgasm--and Ellison closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into Telar's neck and followed him over the edge.

* * *

"Connor," Jim said, and Telar touched his nose into Jim's back.

"What about her?" he asked, curious.

"You want her."

Telar lay still for a moment, then sighed.  Jim's back was cool against his chest, and Jim's sides rose slowly up and down as he breathed.  "No," he said.

"I can sense it," Jim said.

"Impossible," Telar said.  "True, she is a woman, and a beautiful one.  True, she is a good friend.  True, that at one time I might have considered her as a mate."  He moved closer to Jim, feeling the trembling, rising buzz of pon farr in the pit of his stomach; feeling the deeply rooted empathic bond that held him to this man.  He slid his hands over Jim's skin.  "You are my Sentinel," he said, pressing his body firmly against Jim's.  "And you have given me a life I could not even dream of as a child, as a male of my caste." 

"That doesn't mean that you want to have sex with me," Jim said.

Telar allowed himself to be amused, and moved his hips against Jim's backside, his penis firming slightly.  He shivered a little; pon farr was perhaps closer than he had thought.  "Vulcan martial philosophy you know," he said.  "You speak our official language.  You know the word 'shika'ree'.  Yet you do not know your own bondmate."

"You think that's funny," Jim said.

"Yes."  He sat up and looked down at Jim.  "I do."

"So explain to me what I don't know," Jim said.

Telar leaned down and kissed him.  "Firstly, you do not know that I never do anything I do not want to do."

He was rewarded by Jim pulling him down and holding him while he laughed.  "So I don't need to worry about Connor," Jim said, between chuckles.

"Not that I am aware of," Telar said, letting Jim's pleasure roll over him, letting himself respond.

* * *

Chapter 9

Jim and Telar were waiting in the transporter room for Ambassador T'Ket when the comm beeped at them.  "Ellison," Jim said.

Brown's voice came over the link.  "Captain, request from Starfleet that you pick up two Vulcans admitted to Starfleet Academy and transport them to Terra."

Telar fingered his earrings nervously, and Jim looked at him, his expression puzzled.  "Are they standing by?"

"Yes, sir."

"Notify them we'll beam them up immediately.  Transmit the coordinates to Chief Rafe in Transporter Room Five.  Captain out." Jim turned to the transporter chief.  "Beam them up when you have the coordinates."

"Aye, sir," Rafe said.  "Transporting now."

When the electric blue light of the transporters faded, Telar felt a surge of ferocious pride: two of his cousins, blue-eyed and barely eighteen, stood on the transporter pads. 

Jim bumped Telar lightly with his shoulder, and Telar glanced at him and saw a grin on his face.  "Permission to come aboard, Captain," one of them said.

"Granted," Jim replied, and they stepped down, clutching their duffel bags nervously.

"Telek.  Virhal," Telar said.  "My Captain and bondmate, James Ellison.  Jim, my cousins Telek and Virhal, sons of T'Nuo."

He met Jim's eyes and saw that Jim knew what had happened: the hakausu'lar were sending their sons to Starfleet; sons who on Vulcan could never marry nor be legal fathers to their children.  He saw that Jim knew that it was the bond between the two of them that had opened the way.

Ambassador T'Ket walked in and stopped dead, her eyes hardening.  "What is this?" she asked.

"Okevet-dutar," said Telar, "these are my cousins, who have entered the Guide program at Starfleet Academy."

She ignored him and looked at Jim, who merely smiled.

"Okevet-dutar," the boys said, saluting politely.

"Captain," she said, "why are hakausu'lar aboard your ship?"

"Because Starfleet has asked me to transport them to the Academy on Terra."

"Starfleet has no right--"

"Kaiidth," Telar said, softly.  "Do you deny it?"

For the first time since he had faced her down in the conference room months ago, she looked directly at Telar.  "I deny nothing," she said.  "I merely state truth."

"My race will no longer accept their fate," he said.  "And we shall waste no water weeping for Vulcan's loss, okevet-dutar."  He raised his hand in the split-fingered salute.  "Live long, Ambassador, and prosper."

She did not answer, and Telar watched her disappear without saying anything further.

"Let's get you settled," Jim said, and gestured for Telek and Virhal to precede him out of the transporter room.  As Telar turned to follow, Jim said, "It won't be easy, Chief."

"Nothing worth doing is, adun," Telar answered, and laid his hand in the small of Jim's back.  "Will you help me?"

"Hey," said Jim.  "You're the Guide."

* * *