First off, I'm shit at titles. Also I literally wrote this in one day. I don't know where it came from. All I know is that it's out of my head now. And it turned out to be longer than I had planned. Sometimes these things just happen. You're welcome. (And writing in second person is hard).

Possession and Its Unassuming Personal Effects

You were a prisoner of Section 31.

You were once a bright young officer in Starfleet, until you stumbled upon an anomaly in some financial records and fell down the rabbit hole. Poking the beast one too many times, you resolved to bring your discoveries to a superior officer. You were sure these things you'd discovered fell outside of Starfleet regulation. Money and resources disappearing left and right, a memo that briefly mentioned activity around an "Io Facility," something about new photon torpedoes that barely skirted past a Federation treaty banning pre-emptive, cloaked weaponry.

They came to your apartment in the middle of the night to shut you up.

When you woke again out of a hazy drug-induced coma, you were in a glass cell, and looking in on you was Admiral Alexander Marcus himself. He said you were good as dead, that everyone thought you were, that your apartment had been made to look like you were murdered. You were his now, to give to his scientists for experimentation, or for whatever he needed a test subject for. He didn't care. All that mattered was that you were out of his way and weren't going to cause trouble anymore.

When you put up a fight the first time, you were injected with something that made you feel like your skin was peeling off of you, like your insides were on fire and every breath you took felt like you were trying to breathe underwater.

You didn't fight again.

You thought you were alone.

One day they put you in a room, unshackled, in only a sports bra and underwear. No visible door handles, only one wall of glass through which you could see the Admiral and several others watching you curiously, too curiously. Without warning, jolts of what might have been electricity ran up through your feet and into your legs. You screamed. It was as though your muscles were being shredded and your bones shattered. Your fingertips were on fire and you crumpled to the floor only to have the pain soar up through your arms. Moments later, the shocks stopped and you lay there, shaking. You glared at the people watching you as you pushed yourself up to your feet, ignoring the way several pairs of eyes burned into your skin. You set your jaw. You wouldn't be broken so easily.

This was some sort of weapon they were testing, a torture device, you decided just as the shocks were activated again. They rippled up through your legs like streams of searing magma in your veins. For one second, you dug your nails into your palms, your teeth grinding to withhold your scream.

There was a man on the other side of the glass with black hair and pale skin. You hadn't seen him before. His expression was different than the others. His eyes weren't narrowed with sick interest, and his hands weren't busy taking notes on a PADD. No, the way he looked at you made you want to go on. It made you want to fight.

The shocks escalated and the pain became too much. You crumpled to the floor, pressing your forehead to your knees as the device was switched off. You were afraid to stand up else it be turned on again. A door slid open with a hiss and you were dragged across the cold floor. Shaking with adrenaline, your eyes raked across the room as you were returned to your cell, and you caught sight of him again, the black haired man. You realized the way he looked at you was almost sad, one of empathy, as though something possessed him to show no interest for the Admiral's tortuous designs.

You passed out almost as soon as you were dropped on the floor of your cell. When you woke again, a firm hand was lifting your face, holding a cup of water to your lips. You desperately drank to quench your thirst. You hadn't been given any sustenance in two days. Gasping for air after swallowing the cold contents of the stranger's glass, you lay back down. Then you realized he was still there, crouching beside you. You looked up to see him looking down at you. His eyes were colder up close, and his hair was raven black against his pale skin. He obviously hadn't been in the sun in a long time. There was no sign of empathy on his face now, and he said nothing to you. He stood up and turned his attention to someone outside the cell.

"She will suffice," he said. His voice was surprisingly deep, vibrating through your chest long after he'd finished.

Suffice for what? What was he talking about? What were they going to do to you now? You didn't have the strength to vocalize your protests as you were picked up by two guards and dragged from your cell.

They carried you to another level of the facility, one you hadn't seen before, and dropped you off inside another room. You lay on the floor, your eyes flicking over the walls and the minimal furniture, before you decided to try and get up. You rolled over onto your stomach and pushed your body up with your shaking arms. You were so weak, your stomach felt hollow and the stranger's glass of water had done little to sooth your parched throat and cracking lips.

A door hissed open behind you and suddenly two arms encircled your waist, lifting you straight off the floor. You kicked feebly and squirmed but you had little strength left, not that your attacker could even be bothered. He easily restrained your arms with one hand as he lay you gently on the nearby bed. You kicked him away and fell off the bed to the floor, scrambling to your feet only to have him prod you back into the mattress.

You lay there with your face half-buried in the sheets, catching your breath, your eyes barely open. You had no energy. You were starving. You felt yourself teetering on the edge of sleep again, and wished it was death.

A finger and a thumb took your jaw and lifted your face up from the sheets. It was him, the man with the cold gaze and pale skin and black hair. In his other hand was a bowl of something that smelled ridiculously delicious and your stomach gave you a painful reminder that you hadn't eaten in several days.

"You need to eat," he said. His tone was full of authority, but at the same time he was soft and firm all at once. He placed the bowl on the table beside your bed and walked away.

You lay there for a moment, staring at the bowl, smelling that gorgeous aroma. Your eyes fluttered shut and you forgot where you were, then your stomach made you hurt again and you forced yourself to sit up with your last bit of strength. A shaking hand picked up the spoon and the hot liquid seared your throat in the kindest form of pain you'd experienced in weeks.

In minutes, the bowl was empty and you lay back into the bed. You told yourself you should get up and find a way out of there, but instead you succumbed to your exhaustion, your stomach pleasantly full for the first time in days. Sleep overtook you and when you woke later you realized you hadn't had any nightmares.

He was there again, an immovable force that prevented you from leaving the bed. He towered over you, taking your jaw in his hand and turning your head slightly so his swimming pool eyes could study you. You tried to catch a glimpse of emotion, something in those chiseled features. When he straightened and the room's light glanced off his face, you swore he could have been cut straight from a block of marble. Too perfect to be just human.

"Who are you?" you croaked. You hadn't used your voice for anything other than screaming in pain for the last week or so.

He looked at you as though there was a glass wall between you, even though he sat beside you on the bed. "My name is Khan."

His back was ramrod straight and his lean, muscular arms rested in front of him, his long fingers curling gently around his knees. The way he looked down at you made you wonder what sort of man would have that sort of name. He rose suddenly, a smooth silent movement, and slipped a long silver coat around his shoulders.

"You will stay in bed until you are strong enough to walk on your own. This door will be locked from the outside, but you are safer in here than you would be out there."

He opened the door and prepared to step outside.

"Where are you going?" you asked suddenly. You didn't know him but he'd been the first to treat you with respect since Admiral Marcus imprisoned you. It felt strange to have him leave.

"Rest." His one word command silenced your questions, and the door slid shut, locking into place. You stared at it for a moment, then dropped your head back into the pillow, feeling a wash of exhaustion sweep over you once more.

You had woken from your nap and was carefully testing the strength in your legs when Khan returned.

You ignored him, if only because you were still dressed in solely your sports bra and underwear. Your focus was on returning to your feet like a normal human being, and despite your steely resolve, your limbs didn't want to cooperate.

Your knees buckled and you put your hands out to prevent your body from crashing into the floor unhindered. Your head was spinning, but at least your stomach no longer felt like a hollow pit.

In one swift movement, Khan was at your side, his arms around your waist, his coat brushing your legs. He held you gently, keeping you from falling to the floor. You groaned at the state your body was still in and quickly pushed your hair from your face in an attempt to look pulled together, as though that were even possible when you were hardly wearing any clothing.

You let him hold you for a moment until you could stand without feeling light headed. His warmth was comforting, despite the unfamiliarity of his proximity. When he left you there, the returning cold air was a shock and your disappointment faintly registered.

"Why am I here?" you asked slowly, watching as he strode across the room and laid his coat over the back of the room's single chair. When he turned, his steely gaze was directed at you.

"Admiral Marcus," he said slowly, the name dropping off his tongue as though it were painful to say. "He cares nothing for life, only for what it can offer him. Once you had proven his new device to be effective, he decided he had no further use for you. He was going to kill you. I intervened."

You feel a wash of relief and confusion flood over you. But there had to be a catch, and based on the look in his eyes, Khan was about to explain it.

"You must understand that Marcus presented me with little choice. I convinced him to give you to me based on the idea that there are things you can give me, that there are needs I have that must be met. It seems Marcus will do anything to keep me comfortable, and I must play the part. You should be grateful."

You feel a knot growing in your stomach as he reaches up and drags a finger over your collarbone, his thumb resting in the v-shaped notch between your neck and your sternum. You can feel your heart beginning to pound.

"There are cameras in this room," he said, his eyes flitting to the ceiling without unnecessary movement.

You followed his glances and noticed a small but clearly visible indentation in the ceiling where a small black camera lens protruded.

"They cannot hear anything but they can see everything and Marcus will know if I am not following through on his 'expectations.' He believes me to be a monster, but he also needs me to complete his work, and that is why I cannot merely let you alone, as long as they are watching us."

You felt yourself tense as his hand traced the contours of your neck. His fingers slipped into your hair. His other hand slid down your skin to settle at your hip, and he pulled you closer. You could feel his hot breath on your face. His touch was warm, firm, surprisingly gentle, and yet you felt yourself beginning to tremble. This is no worse than what they had done to you before.

"I promise I will not harm you."

Of course he wouldn't, not if he'd saved your life and was only doing this now because he had to put on a show. Then you realized this wasn't just about him. This was your life at stake, and you had to act accordingly. If Marcus so much as suspected that Khan had lied to him about wanting to fulfill his "needs," you could be snatched away and left for dead in a locked and unused lab, never to be seen again. You lifted your chin slightly as Khan's thumb slid under your jaw, tracing the line of your neck. Without hesitation, you told him your name.

He paused, his brows tightening faintly. Maybe you shouldn't have. Maybe it would have been better to remain distant. But you already knew his, which he had freely given. Your moment of hesitation disappeared and you felt confident that it was the right choice, despite what was about to happen.

You saw the change in his expression then. He was so close to you there was no way you would have missed it. A faint crack in his façade, a sudden shift in his composure, maybe a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. The thought that his knowing your name could make him do that was a momentary brush of comfort, but it quickly disappeared.

Your jaw tightened as the hand he held over your hip sliped inside your underwear. He pulled a finger through the fabric and his seemingly light touch somehow tore it in two. Another push and it pooled around your ankles. You stepped out of it hesitantly, tensing as his fingers wrapped around the curve of your posterior, pressing gently into your skin. His touch drifted up your side until he reached the last piece of fabric that protected you, that kept you secure in yourself and in what was yours. You inhaled at his closeness as his arms reached around you. He took the back of your bra in his fingers, and you flinched as it tore apart, but you forced yourself to look up at him.

His hard gaze was telling and you realized this was easier on you than forcing you to pull the thing over your head, revealing yourself before you could see his reaction. You kept your eyes fixed on his face as he pulled the torn bra from your shoulders and dropped it to the floor. He was easy on the eyes, you realized, in the complicated way that staring at a marble statue in an art museum was easy to gaze at without really understanding it. His bone structure was symmetrical, with notable cheekbones and a set jaw. His lips were full and parted slightly as his eyes drifted down from your face to your chest. You felt a chill sweep over you, not surprising since you were naked, but you bit your lip knowing your nipples were already putting on a show for him. You could see it in his eyes suddenly, a different look, a need. You swallowed again, already sure that he was going to hurt you even though he promised he wouldn't.

He took a faint step backwards, his eyes never leaving your body, even as he made a slow circle around you. It was as though he was sizing you up, inspecting his purchase, making you wonder what sort of deal he'd made with Marcus that led to your being in this situation. Yes, it was better than being killed, but maybe you were about to change your mind on that.

Standing behind you now, Khan's hands snaked around your waist and drifted downward over your hips. You could hear him breathing on your neck, and the contrast of his heat behind you and the cold on your chest made your breathing go crazy. Or maybe it was the finger he'd suddenly pressed to your sex. You fought to contain a short moan that his ministrations easily created in your throat. You needed something to hold onto, but his arm around your waist wouldn't let you move. You settled with wrapping your fingers around his wrist, clutching at the sleeve of his coat. You realized he was still fully clothed and you were completely naked under his hands, but then you involuntarily arched back against him at the heat he created between your thighs, and you forgot that you were only doing this because there are cameras watching you both, and if you didn't do this you were as good as dead.

You felt the breath leave your lungs suddenly as his talented fingers disappeared from between your shaking legs. You'd been left on the edge and it was making you all sorts of frustrated. The arm around your waist retreated and you felt a gentle push on your back. You caught yourself with your arms on the bed, hearing the sounds of clothing being swiftly removed behind you. You shut your eyes, knowing he was about to take you and there was nothing you could do; but maybe you could enjoy this; maybe it could actually feel good if you let it.

You felt his hands sliding along your back, tracing the lines of your shoulders, the curve of your waist and hips. You shivered as kissed you along the ridges of your backbone, pausing to nip at the nape of your neck, pulling a pained hiss from between your teeth. You wondered if that was just the beginning of the pain he wanted to administer to your body, which was quickly becoming his. His teeth skirted along your neck, stopping behind your ear to nip again. You let out a quiet moan, biting your lip to stop it. You could tell that got a rise out of him. He pulled your hair away from your face and presses his lips to the place he'd just bitten. You had to admit his hot breath mixed with his saliva on your skin was turning you on to this more and more. Your fingers were starting to dig into the sheets.

He leaned over you, his hands cupping your breasts as he guided you onto your hands and knees. You could feel his hot erection pressing against your buttock. Though you couldn't see it, the sheer thickness of it against your skin made you nervous. You'd only ever been with one man before, if he could be called a man. Jim, your now ex-boyfriend, had made your first two years at Starfleet Academy interesting to say the least. Though he wasn't exactly well endowed, he had been a good kisser and a great smooth talker. It'd been a few years since you'd had anyone inside you now, and the man that encircled you was too huge for you to be comfortable with. You swallowed as his fingers made a trail down your stomach from your breast to your sex, brushing your clitoris to make you shiver against him. He dipped first one inside you, then two, then three, then finally a fourth that caused you to moan loudly. Even as you arched, pressing your hips into him, you knew he was only preparing you.

"This may be uncomfortable for you," he murmured in your ear, sliding his fingers out of you. You almost wanted to protest at the empty space he left, but you were distracted by his voice. There was something amplified in it, the way it rumbled through his chest and throat. Under any other circumstances, you would have asked him to keep talking. That voice alone could have made you come.

Khan wrapped an arm across your chest and gripped your shoulder, holding you up underneath him while his left supported his weight on the mattress. You could feel the head of his arousal pressing into your warmth and you arched, opening yourself up to him, suddenly wanting him inside you so badly. You felt him exhale against your neck as he pushed himself into you, but you bit your lip when it suddenly began to hurt, the way he was making you stretch. You winced and groaned, but the groan turned into a gasp as he pressed his lips to the mark he'd made behind your ear. He was very well endowed, and by the way he almost gingerly held himself against you, he knew it too.

You took the moment to catch your breath, shifting your hips slightly to feel him inside you, clenching your jaw at how tightly he filled you up. When he seemed to think you were more comfortable, he gently rocked back and thrust into you. You let out a small moan, admitting it felt good. No, it felt incredible. He was so strong and large inside you, and yet by the way he held you against him it was as though you were made of porcelain and he was trying his hardest not to shatter you.

He thrust up into you with careful precision, sliding in up to the hilt each time until you thought you couldn't take him. Your fingers clutched at the sheet beneath you and your eyes fell shut. Your back was perpetually arched, and your legs were starting to ache in their attempt to spread beneath him and take him in fully each time he pumped inside you. You listened to him, the way each thrust made him breathe a little harder, and when you inadvertently made a noise at the heat his movements were creating inside you, his grip on your shoulder tightened and his thrusts quickened.

And then you could feel it coming. The edge of the cliff, the way it made your head spin and your fingers curl into a fist in the sheets. The warmth between your bodies curled up into your stomach and down into your legs, throwing desperate moans up your throat. Your eyes snapped open as his hand shifted from the sheets to cover yours, encasing your fist in tight, long fingers. His grip stung, squeezing your bones together until they grated on each other and you groaned in more than just pleasure. He was as close as you were.

You could feel his hips rocking against you with quickening motions, the only thing about him that moved now. His chest was flush to your back and his heat wrapped around you like an invisible blanket. Your own heat was quickly approaching critical levels and you were almost thrilled when it crashed over you. You cried out, convulsing beneath him as the waves of pleasure shook you. They continued lapping at the corners of your mind as Khan growled in the back of his throat, his teeth sinking into the lean muscle of your shoulder. You hissed in pain, but the pleasure overcame it and your head rolled back until you could see him out of the corner of your eye.

His pale chest was flushed pink, but he looked as though he wasn't even exerting himself, even as he thrust unrestrainedly into you, the sinews in his neck showing. He groaned when he came, and it drove you over the edge again, feeling him squirt deep inside you. You clenched around him, riding out every wave of ecstasy that crashed over you, fighting to catch your breath. His motions slowed, though he still slid in and out of you, lowering his face to your neck again. You swallowed and gasped as he focused his attention on the mark behind your ear, and then he slid out and you felt all the strength melt from your limbs. You fought to hold yourself up and he caught you, pulling you up against him as he lay down beside you. His chest rose and fell only faintly harder than it had been before you two had started, but you were still shuddering. You wrapped your fingers around his wrists where he held you against him, willing yourself to relax and fall into the mellow calm of post-sex sleep.

After a while, your breathing quieted and you found yourself sinking into him. You couldn't tell if he was asleep or merely waiting for you to be. Slowly, you relinquished your death grip on his arms, deciding that maybe you were comfortable here, wrapped in his warmth, in the grip of a strange man named Khan who had saved your life, and despite the cost to you, in some weird sense, you were grateful.

Your eyes slowly fell shut as the question wandered through your mind again. What sort of man is named Khan? A khan was a ruler, a tyrant maybe, but to be declaring his name as such, well that was all sorts of odd. And who was he to Admiral Marcus that there were cameras in his private quarters?

Cameras. You clenched your eyes tight at the thought that someone could have been watching you both the entire time. Khan seemed to notice your shift in mood and put a hand on the side of your face, pushing your hair from your sweaty skin and gently brushing it behind your ear. The action was simple, unassuming, and the most comforting thing anyone had done for you since you'd been locked up in Section 31.

also, writing in 2nd person is hard. please review and I may post the second part? ( don't worry I haven't stopped working on my other stories xD)