A/N: Holy frig you guys are awesome :D All the views, favs, alerts, and especially reviews ;) (A special thanks goes to you guys, you wonderful reviewers, you) You've all made me a very, very happy writer! So while I could, will and have tortured our delectable captain and put the whip in a very, equally sexy Spock's receptive hands, I won't torture you guys and make you wait for it. I've done enough of that as it is x)

When you came in, the air went out.
And every shadow, filled up with doubt.

"Yes, I have made my choice. The Captain is in my custody."

"...He didn't come easy, I'll bet. Never has."

Spock dismissed the slight trace of a chuckle he heard in the Admiral's voice.

"It did not take mentionable effort to subdue him, if that is the nature of your question."

The Admiral laughed outright then, and through the voice-only conversation, Spock could sense some underlying bitterness at Kirk and himself. He was silent.

"How long will it take you to get here?" his voice was low and amused.

"I estimate no longer than six months."

"What? That's a helluva time to wait," the Admiral grumbled, no longer laughing.

Spock instantly bristled at the childish irritation in his voice.

"Admiral Decker, you are on a starbase light-years from us at our current position." He stated this matter-of-fact.

"What of it? I don't intend to simply sit here while you take your merry time. Kirk is practically mine and the longer I have to wait the—"

"Admiral Decker." Spock said with a little more antipathy than was strictly necessary. I can do nothing of our current position besides begin projecting the ship in your direction along with doing our Empire duties." His voice took a dangerous hiss at the end that took the Admiral by surprise that was added to by his silence. Spock had long ago known how Decker was infant-like in his dealings with the world. He held so much power but used it for so little; he had heard it was because of an encounter with an old enemy years before. After that he had never been as domineering as he once was.

Eventually the Admiral replied, "You know what I hold in my hand, Captain. If you want to keep that which is dear to you from untimely deaths… I suggest watching yourself."

Spock hesitated for a second longer that he should have. "Understood, Admiral."

It was effortless to suppress the twinge of anger he felt threaten his voice, though not entirely to ignore. In threatening his parents and septimal bondmate T'Pring, Admiral Decker had more control over Spock than the Vulcan would willingly admit. In return, he had demanded Kirk.

Back when his Kirk was still around captaining the ship, he noted with cold detachment, he had been extremely adamant about complying. Who he wished to support had been a choice logic could not dictate for him. The Admiral had enormous power within the Empire; Spock had little in comparison.

Not one to be wounded by such things or a coward, it had been difficult for him to come to a conclusion. Of which he had not, as of the storm which switched the two men. The complete unlikelihood of which happening still stupefied him. But, not willing to throw away such an opportunity, Spock took it immediately, taking Kirk captive.

He had thought long and hard about the decision he was about to make. He was condemning an innocent man to take the place of one he knew intimately, and who nothing of his fate nor the place to take part in its course.

Quickly though, he reminded himself he had done far worse. Simply never to Kirk. Was it because this man looked identical that made the choice weigh so heavily on him?

Realizing the human thoughts, Spock purged them from himself. He had made his choice, and was conveying that choice, sealing it. He knew the consequences of such and was willing to accept them.

"I'm wondering though, how you could possibly do this to Kirk? I know you two served many years onboard the Enterprise."

Spock was suspicious of the jest; it seemed harmless enough but he knew enough of Terrans to know when delicate words were being exchanged. He chose his words carefully.

"My family is precious to me; it would not do to willingly lose those who I have sworn my protection."

In fact, he would have chosen Kirk over his aging parents and infidelitous bondmate had he been forced to eventually choose, but that was none of Decker's concern.

"Yeah," Decker chucked darkly to himself, "Kirk was a lying, cheating bastard anyway." The Admiral didn't expect Spock to understand or agree with his hatred, and Spock knew a response was not desired of him.

Strangely for Spock, he suddenly noted he wished the call to end. If not to be released from the Admiral's dry, greasy voice, then to at least use his time more wisely than talking to a mindless Admiral. It irked him to listen to the most repulsive of humans on what seemed at times like a one-way conversation. He knew such was the way of the Admiralty, and it did not grate on him as it would otherwise.

"Well, good. I'm… happy you have everything under control."

"Yes, Admiral."

He heard the line disconnect.

But I do not... not everything. Not yet.

I don't know who you think you are,
But before the night is through,
I wanna do bad things with you.

Kirk woke to the sensation of an aching shoulder and the warmth of a soft couch under him. He assumed he had been knocked out by Spock on arrival of his quarters. It took a moment to process the fact that he was trying to open his eyes but couldn't; a soft black cloth was tied securely around his head. That scared him. Being blind made him realize how tight a spot he was in at that moment. He didn't want to acknowledge it, he didn't want to let the agony of not knowing what the next hour would bring seep into his mind and poison his thoughts. Doing so was weakness.

But he felt a tedious kind of pain bring pricks of moisture to his eyes. Spock wanted him blind. Spock wanted him immobile. And Spock wanted him mute. Not that any of it mattered. He would be out of here soon and then none of it would matter. Spock wouldn't matter. This was not his Spock.

This Spock wanted him perfectly ductile beneath his able hands, and had succeed in going part way. But the Vulcan knew part way wasn't good enough, and Kirk knew that. And they both knew it was Kirk who had to go that extra way; only, Spock would do whatever it took to get him there.

But whatever he may be to Spock, he convinced himself he would not mold beneath the Vulcan like a toy. It was just... getting harder and harder every minute to uphold that promise.

He felt nauseous again, all of the sick and pervertedness of this game he was suddenly playing had him grinding his teeth to keep from throwing up. Clean oxygen filled his lungs, filling that empty pit. He didn't think about the last time he had eaten.

He curled his fingers. Wait. His hands were - still cuffed - but now curled into his stomach instead of locked behind him in the ultimate of unhelpful positions. This was good, and he was surprised; it was a pleasant discovery. He wasn't as uncomfortable as before, either. The stupid thing around his chin still held his mouth shut unfortunately, he noticed in disgust. The hard metal of it dug annoyingly into the soft under cavity of his jaw, making it impossible for him to speak. If he succeed in making a noise, it was only a strangled choking noise that grated on his ears. The contraption also made it harder to swallow, and he kept needing to calm himself to keep from going insane.

He took a steadying breath through his nose that flowed smoothly through his windpipe, and shifted so he was sitting on the edge of the couch. He reached up to feel the tight fabric and solid material of the thing holding his head like a vice. It took only moments of futile searching along it's raised curvature around his skull for a crease with the infuriating inconvenience of being handcuffed, to assure Kirk that he was inexorably stuck whether he wanted to be or not. He growled and shook his head in frustration, the contraption not even allowing him to verbally vent his anger in a nice long stream of curses. His annoyed breaths through his nose came out like a bulls', flaring in distaste and subdued anger.

He stood up suddenly on impulse, his whole body tensing to fight the empty air. To his dismay, he found he did appreciate being free to do this. That triggered something in him and he felt immediately disgusted at the weakness. He shouldn't be thankful. He should be damn near furious at being so confined that the freedom of standing felt like a liberty. What was happening to him? Why was he feeling so... so accepting. And why was he surprised it was freaking him out?

Alright, Jim. Calm down.

He curled his toes, concentrating on the fact that his boots had been removed and his bare feet were heavy and warm on the thick carpet. He just couldn't help, in the privacy of his mind, being thankful for being afforded at least some pleasure in this place. It was hard not to be when the last however many hours had been spent in the company - not that it could really be sanely called that - of one insane Vulcan. He meant that, even though his Spock could be maddeningly logical to the point where, from a human perspective, he could be legally classified as insane, this was worse in every sense of the word. What prompted him to break from that logic in this world? Why was he so dead set on making every second he was here a painful one? What was his motivation?

Kirk allowed himself not to think too deeply on the subject. He knew practically nothing about this place and this Spock, and going into the subject would undoubtedly end up with him lingering an unhealthy amount on the very real realization that he would soon learn all there was to know. And that was deeper than he wished to go, for his sanity.

He had the uncomfortable feeling he would be questioning his sanity a lot, if he stayed in this place for an extended period of time. He'd been there, done that, and had no plans on repeating it, thanks.

On a different note, he cocked his head and listened. If there was any indication of anyone who had not shown themselves, he would hear it. He would if they were human, anyway. He was out of luck with a Vulcan, and as unfortunate as that may be, it was all he could do to not perk his ears up.

He didn't like being blind; nobody would. He was just thankful he didn't hear anything out of the ordinary; or one crazy Vulcan, if you insisted on the particulars. He didn't expect to hear anything; if Spock was watching him, which was more than probable, anonymity was his if he wished it. The thought of Spock being able to maneuver around his senses made Kirk uncomfortable, but he did not let it show.

Okay. What could he do. He couldn't see, he couldn't talk, and he couldn't even really move his hands. Hold on. The comm unit. He knew exactly where it was; this ship had looked generally the same physically as his did, and he knew Spock's apartment layout like the back of his hand.

He began to imagine the room in front of him like oils on canvas. From where he was by the couch, he determined that he was in the living room with its low coffee table, the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, and the office desk and main door ahead. To his right would be the bedroom with its windows and the archway that led to it, large and open. The kitchenette was sunk into the far wall in the left-hand corner, right beside the bathroom unit. And finally, the dining table was to his left, just adjacent to the wall with a view of black space and the comm unit. Perfect.

Slowly, for he couldn't remember much of the very limited time he had spent up and awake in this room, and he wasn't exactly sure how this Spock kept it furniture-wise (though he wouldn't have been surprised if he stumbled onto an antique amphora of lirpas) Kirk made his way around the dining table, holding the tops of the expensive chairs in his cuffed hands, to the outside wall of the bathroom. He smiled, trailing his hands along the wall to where he knew the wonderful piece of communications equipment was snugly attached. He felt the cold keys under his hand with more grateful relief than he would have ever imagined.

He had his fingers on the red emergency button-when strong hands spun him around like a damn cyclone. He made a choked sound as strong hands forced him to the ground with an immense pressure that only now made itself known in the cavity of his shoulder. He went down easily, as human struggling to a Vulcan didn't pose much of a defense, though when he felt the cold muzzle of a phaser press into his neck, he froze in suppressed panic.

As a cool hand snaked onto his shoulder he arched his back, sharply sucking in a breath and reaching back to grab the Vulcan's hand away with a growl. What he got in return was a warning; the phaser's familiar chhhk that it had been snapped to 'kill' and the unpleasant sensation of this one being pressed deeper into his jugular. He exhaled, inhaling again and holding it while Spock's posessive hand explored his exposed neck. His whole body was tense; his shoulders and head shook at being subjected to this.

What had he been thinking? His hands quivered uselessly in powerlessness at the situation and he groaned internally. What made him think that Spock would even let him near the comm? He had gone to all the trouble of getting him here and essentially let him know who was boss, so why would he take that chance? He hadn't.

Kirk felt the overpowering urge to rip Spock's hand from him again, but the sensible side of him stopped that thought in its tracks before his subconscious could realize it and probably leave him dead on the expensive white carpet. Something inside of him stopped himself from lashing out at the dangerous Vulcan, for fear retaliation.

Without warning, the Vulcan hand snaking its way through Kirk's hair grabbed tightly and jerked his head back, garnering a surprised whimper from the human.

The angle was painfully sharp, and Kirk stilled as his head faced the ceiling. He knew what would be there in front of his face: Spock, staring down at him with those devilishly pointed features and just the hint of a smile from beneath heavily lidded and charcoaled eyes that suggested something along the very twisted lines of ...I am the cat and you are my canary; sing for me...

Kirk felt sick again at the image, though strangely hypnotized. Long dark eyebrows and the almost smugly tilted grin as if holding Kirk against his will with a phaser set to kill was nothing new, and perhaps even erotic.

Sickly sweet.

Kirk was made aware of the hot pounding of the blood in his veins as invasive hands twisted themselves in his hair with little regard for any objections to the matter he might have. Not that he did. Not that he wanted to die right then, anyway. He was practically a mannequin in the trance that Spock kept him in, until the Vulcan pulled a little too hard, and Kirk stopped, then jerked, as if suddenly aware of the strange position he was in.

This did not go over well, and thought he hadn't known it possible, the hold on his scalp tightened to a fiery pain that wrenched on his hair and made his eyes prick at the sudden rush of pain. Kirk had long ago pressed his hands to his chest to keep them still, but had trouble keeping them there now.

He squeezed his eyes shut as his breathing became shallow and quick. Okay, okay, I give. Stop, stop, stop, please just... Kirk thought in helpless desperation as his heart hammered against his chest. He didn't fight. He didn't give any indication that he was about to break out of the hold or scramble away.

He hoped Spock would relent, even though he wanted more than anything to shout and yell and curse the damned Vulcan he couldn't even see. Instead, he was forced to be silent and endure, and he hated it. He knew from the death grip the Vulcan had on his scalp and the phaser pressed like a knife to his throat, that if he should move, Spock could press that trigger so fast he wouldn't even be aware death had taken him.

But still... he hated it. Nothing could stop him from hating it in the deepest darkest part of his mind.

His breathing became faster, more urgent, as Spock twisted tortuously on his hair.

"James… can I call you that?"

Fuck no, you bastard.

Kirk rolled his eyes before he realized how painful that voice was to hear. It was almost like burning coals dripping into his ears. He whined in pain, straining slightly as if he were being made to listen to the devil cackle and the sweetest of angels sing but couldn't decide which.

"Yes, I think I will." Spock breathed in his ear, warm and controlled. "James Kirk, I will explain to you only once." he shifted miniscuely, liking the feel of tight held hair in his grasp.

"You are now my bondservant, or slave, more crudely. You have no rights, not even to live. I am your Master from this point on. I control you, and if you displease me, I will kill you. You know of my capabilities; it would be wise not to disregard them."

Spock paused then, giving Kirk time. He did not want to overwhelm the human. He curled his long fingers in Kirk's dirty blonde hair, scratching his scalp as he would a cat, alternatively pulling the gold locks tight and straight. He growled deep in his throat in burning possession. Kirk was his, to do whatever he pleased with and at his discretion. This hair; everything, fascinating and illogical emotions in all. Spock breathed onto Kirk's warm human head, making him his and making Kirk know he was his.

Kirk gagged as he felt a creeping sensation in his hair, along with the claws dragging their way along his scalp. His growing sense of dread had finally manifesting like setting concrete. Complete, and encompassing, Kirk felt it in the incomprehensibly tight and suffocating words swirling around him and in the cold sweat clinging to his shirt. Like the frigidity of space, unforgiving and vast. He felt suddenly alone, and very controlled. He fought against that. He would not give in.

He managed to shake his head infinitesimally.

"Oh, yes. You will obey me; you have no choice in the matter." Spock's laughing, honeyed voice was like dry autumn leaves falling in a sea of orange and gold... to finally brush the forest floor and burst into flame like some malicious bomb.

"...eventually." This seemed to amuse Spock, but Kirk was so sickened by his tone he couldn't concentrate enough to know why.

"Now I'm going to take the blindfold and muter off, and I would appreciate it if you stayed completely silent."

For a moment, Kirk debated whether or not to heed Spock's instructions, but with sharp nails suddenly driving themselves into his head, he didn't need to be told twice.

"Is this at all unclear?" Spock jerked Kirk's head a fraction to make him answer. He did, nodding against Spock's hold in a slight quiver of his head. But he couldn't help to admit to himself that the tight grip on his torso was really starting to bother him.

Spock released him finally, to Kirk's immense relief, but immediately pressed the cool edge of a knife to his throat. Kirk growled in frustration.

He was thankful though, when Spock swiftly untied and slipped off the piece of silken black fabric over his eyes. Kirk blinked, the ceiling the first thing he saw as his head was still tilted up. He tried to swallow found it almost unmanageable with his head at such an unnatural angle. He shifted uncomfortably, making a small noise at the strain.

Spock then unclipped the restricting head strap, freeing Kirk to move his jaw around.

Kirk coughed, opening his mouth wide to stretch out his neck muscles and get them used to damn working again. Seeing as the knife was still pressed into his neck, he tried not to jostle it as he did this. He also looked around, but was unable to see anything other than the ceiling and other side of the room without moving.

Reaching over, Spock gingerly placed the black elastic and cloth on the glass dining table.

He hesitated then, before placing his free hand on Kirk's stomach.

Kirk froze, not liking this at all.

Spock felt Kirk's muscles automatically tense under the fabric of his shirt, but he wasn't bothered by it. The human would soon learn not to flinch away from him. As a reminder, Spock took a moment to slide the knife along Kirk's throat. He felt the human burn and reach away, but that only sent him deeper into Spock's arms. The Vulcan's lip curled and he slid his hand under Kirk's shirt.

As expected, Kirk's arms slammed down on his cool hand instinctually, the feeling of an alien hand on such an unprotected part of him an immediate threat he could not ignore even with a knife pressed to his throat.

To counter this, Spock had only to calmly press the knife deeper, seriously threatening to break the skin. Kirk gasped a dry sob, his breaths shuddering. He didn't loosen his hold for several seconds, before the sharp edge became too much. He let up gradually, giving Spock free reign to his body as slowly as he could possibly allow.

NO. Spock demanded through telepathic touch, irritated at the resistance. That shocked Kirk into instant compliance, and his arms became loose. He shuddered as he felt Spock's dominating hand touch his stomach.

Spock sighed mentally, taking the time to sense what else the human was feeling.

Misery and helplessness; it coursed somewhat unhealthily through him. Such illogical yet powerful emotions, Spock thought, completely disregarding their importance to the well-being of his human. In The Empire, no one really was healthy.

He moved his hand up, weaving through warm chest hair and a frantically pounding heart to hard nipples. He ran a finger over one, feeling the pulse and super-sensitive region with ecstasy. He took it with two fingers gently, hearing Kirk's breathing speed up. He then pinched, seeing Kirk jump and clench his teeth, sobs threatening.

Tears started to run down his face and soft wails soon echoed around the room like a horrible, macabre lullaby. Relatively satisfied he had made his point, Spock released the rock-hardened area, lingering his hand around Kirk's chest. He slowly withdrew, seeing how the human's eyes were tightly closed. He thought that a shame, as he could not deny those eyes were of such an aesthetically pleasing blue.

Then he remembered he could make Kirk open his eyes.

"James, open your eyes." he said with deadly calm, smiling with a slight curl to his lips as his eyes went to Kirk's shaking hands on his stomach. They looked to be quite numb from being forcibly removed from self-protection. In time, Jim would not be so adamant.

"Jim."

Spock dug the knife in deeper, enough to get Kirk to snap open his eyes and glare a blazing hell of fire and brimstone. If ever ice could scorch, Spock knew then it just had. From where he was now crouching next to Kirk, Spock took the human's head in his right hand to hold it still, and then moved his head closer. He kept eye contact during this, watching as the fire melted to fright like the dawning of a new day. Bright, blazing, and intense. Unstoppable. At Kirk's ear, Spock breathed just to feel a ripple to go through the human. He then kissed it gently, once, ending with a growl that left just enough to inspire fear.

But that was enough for tonight. He braided his hand in Kirk's hair and removed the knife. He then stood up, simultaneously hauling Kirk to his feet, the human's blonde hair held in his inhumanely strong hand. Kirk hissed as he was dragged to stand and slammed his eyes closed again, grinding his teeth as Spock's fingers pulled his scalp to burning.

Spock let his captive go abruptly, making Kirk stumble slightly before he found balance and slumped down, coughing. He took quick, confused breaths and shook his head.

When Spock reached out to take his hands, Kirk reacted without thinking and shot back, pulling his hands to his chest. His eyes were wide as he realized Spock was faster, and he moaned when the Vulcan wrenched his cuffed hands back, a snarl on his lips. Spock took the ionized handcuffs in his own, pressing his thumb to the tiny scanner that made them click open. He then slipped the cuffs off Kirk and drizzled them on the table along with the other things.

Once free, Kirk wrapped his arms around himself and stumbled backward, away from the Vulcan, until his back hit the wall and he shuddered, keeping his eyes locked on Spock.

Spock let him, watching as the human stood shaking and staring at him. His eyes were locked on his every move. Just like the first time he did that, it gave Spock a tingle at the back of his head. Jim's breathing was deep and his pupils were dilated. All responses helped humans in an emergency, he knew, but the fact that Jim's body responded to his own like a threat... was satisfactorily exhilarating.

After a moment, Kirk glanced down and rubbed his slightly purple wrists before looking back up to Spock, his eyes flicking down to hands that had only moments ago manipulated and hurt him. Anger flared again, and his mouth twisted.

"Now." Spock said, ignoring the hostile expression, "Come right here," he motioned to the floor a few feet away from him, "and let us see how much you understand."

Kirk bristled, feeling like he was coming out of some trance. He hated the 'we' and had no intention whatsoever of going wherever like a puppy no matter what he had just been forced to agree to. He made that perfectly clear by standing up straighter and looking right at Spock.

"Make me."

James Kirk would soon regret that statement.

"If that is what you wish." Spock said with no hint of amusement or anger. He looked at Kirk calmly, not for himself, but to make the human realize afterward what had happened.

And then something in Kirk's head started to throb. And then it flashed, just for a moment, as searing pain ripped through his head, making him ball his fists. He shut his eyes, bowing his head down under the pressure. No, that was making it worse. He was still on his feet, but the pain was intense and inescapable. He leant against the wall, digging his back into its smooth surface, grinding his teeth until tears came and he fought to stay quiet.

Spock was impressed at the show of strength, but knew it would only be a matter of time. And moments later, Kirk crumpled to the ground with a pained cry. Spock stopped projecting.

Kirk's forarms hugged the ground and he coughed, warm spittle coating the floor. He shifted, his vision blurry and sore. He was breathing hard as he finally looked around and grabbed a chair, using it to help him get to his feet. He struggled and it took a few minutes, but when he was finally on his feet again, the look he directed at Spock was filled to the brim with all the pain and anguish one expected from a grieving mother. Infuriatingly to Kirk, Spock paid it no mind as his eyes swept the human's shuddering body.

Eyes like those were easy to come by in The Empire.

He then pointedly glanced to the spot in the middle of the room again, and back to Kirk. Kirk glared spitefully at him but went to stand beside Spock in the middle of the room, facing the wide windows. He then glared into space and avoided the Vulcan's eye.

Spock nodded in appreciation, "I will be monitoring you while I am gone. If I sense you move, I can just as easily put you back." He sent a thimble's worth of energy at Kirk and saw annoyance flash briefly in the human's eyes.

The door whooshed closed.

A/N: Alright, how was that? Enough practically-rape for you? I'm sorry this took so long; I realized only a few days ago I needed to write another scene for it to make sense D: Though I cut this chapter down, actually.. but how's the length for you guys? It's not too long is it? O.o I'd love to hear your thoughts, what you liked and all that! I thrive on praise, and it gets the next chapter out faster ;)