Hi everyone and, as always, many thanks for your support. When I started this Fanfic, I had a very clear idea in mind but, as often happens in the process of creating, the piece has taken on a life of its own. Because of that, I have gone back and made some minor changes to previous sections just so that they fit more with the direction this work is currently going.
Again, many thanks for your continued support and, without further ado, onto the latest chapter.
Khan was happy. Genuinely happy. He could not remember the last time he had felt this way. He was winning the game. Carol would be his. His. She wanted to help him...desired him...longed to kiss him. His body throbbed at the thought. Oh, it was perfect. He was brilliant! He had been careful, had said just enough to garner empathy from her but not enough to scare her away. He had revealed the hero within him (the man who loved his family above all else) and had suppressed the devil in his soul (the man who wanted to rip every inch of skin off of Marcus' body).
But no, winning the game was not the only reason why he was happy. He was also happy because of the warm, heavy lump that had risen in his pants. Oh, he was positively swelling. He had to touch himself. The room was silent and empty. It was the dead of night and very unlikely that anyone would pass by. Hungrily, he unzipped his tight black pants and pulled them down along with his dark silk underwear, freeing his manhood from its suffocating bondage. With a sigh of relief, he wrapped his right hand around his erection. Then he closed his eyes, filling his mind with the image of golden-haired Carol. Her lips against the glass, so soft yet so intense. He began to pump forcefully, purposefully, and it did not take long for him to gasp in pleasure, back arched and head thrown back, as he spilled out into his hand. He jolted and shook and a hum of satisfaction rumbled in the back of his throat. When the exhilarating sensation was over, however, he felt slightly embarrassed at his sexual hunger as he realized he had nowhere to clean himself. Since he did not need food or drink, he received no meals or water; thus, he had no need for a bathroom and, as a result, the small bathroom at the back of his cell was locked off. Cursing under his breath, he lifted his black sweater and wiped his hand across his bare chest before ensuring his clothes were once again flawlessly in place against his slenderly powerful form.
Yet even as his manhood softened, his happiness intensified. There was something else there, a pleasant bubbly feeling in his stomach, and he chuckled to himself when he realized that he had grown fond of Carol. He was attracted to her beyond the sexual and physical. He was not sure how to feel about this realization, whether he should scoff at his vulnerability or rejoice over the fact that he was still capable of loving someone. His thoughts were disturbed, however, by a catastrophic bang. The ship hurdled out of control and Khan was thrown onto his back, his head hitting the floor with a sickening thud. Colorful circles dotted his vision for a second, but he quickly recovered to the sound of an alarm filling the air along with panicked voices, hurried and confused footsteps, and smoke. The lights above him shuddered and the room was drowned in darkness.
Then, in the chaos and noise, there was Carol. Hurrying towards Khan's chamber, nightgown billowing.
"Are you okay? What happened?" Carol's breathing was heavy.
"We've been attacked," Khan replied coolly as he picked himself up off the floor.
Carol's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and shock.
"We both know who it is. Think, Carol. I should have been destroyed on Kronos along with my crew," Khan continued, his expression one of utter calm.
Carol's breath seemed to catch in her throat as she was filled with realization. "Admiral Marcus."
The ship shuddered more violently. Khan was once again knocked onto his back as Carol tumbled onto her side, nightgown revealing a precariously exorbitant amount of leg. Her cheeks flushed brilliantly when she noticed Khan staring, and she quickly covered herself. The room continued to fill with smoke, shrouding every nook and cranny in sickening shadows. Soon the only thing that Khan could see through the dark was Carol. Her eyes were locked on his. She coughed uncontrollably as the smoke enveloped her.
"Carol. You must let me out."
There was a look of hesitancy on her face. "No. No, I can't do that, Khan. I want to help you...I will help you...but I can't do that. You're still a killer. There must be another way."
The ship shook brutally again, and an audible explosion could be heard in the distance followed by a tremendous groan of machinery and metal.
Khan's voice became more urgent. "Marcus will destroy the torpedoes."
Carol's face flushed with panic. "I will make sure the torpedoes are safe. I promise."
Khan's voice strained with exasperation. "They are my family. Please. I need to be with them."
Carol bit her lip and as she watched more smoke spill into the room, she found herself asking, "What must I do?"
Khan's voice was quick and commanding. "There is a button that opens this chamber. A blue button. On the control panel in the bridge. Press it and meet me back here. I will wait for you."
Carol swallowed hard, eyes swarming with emotions. Sadness laced with panic, fear, desire, and terror. She was fighting an inner battle, her darker nature against her gentler nature. Finally, her eyes hardened. She nodded that she understood and turned to do as he said.
"Carol," Khan spoke, voice ringing sharply through the darkness. "Thank you." He pressed a kiss against the glass and Carol felt a faint smile brush her lips. But there was rustling through the smoke and, as Carol turned to look, there was a swift movement behind her. She heard Khan cry out before she felt something heavy against her head. Then, she fell into darkness.
