Stardate: 2264.9
The turbolift's doors wooshed open.
Spock could feel who was standing there a split-second before the Captain walked out onto his bridge.
"Commander Spock, I am completely thrilled to let you know that your duties as captain of this beautiful lady are no longer required. The good doctor has given me a clean bill of heath!"
Spock raised an eyebrow. Jim's voice sounded positively gleeful. He had been less than receptive to the three-point-six days of medical leave. The captain could frequently be seen sparring in the gym, challenging other crew members to various games in the recreational area, sharing meals with his subordinates and generally making it perfectly known that he would rather be back on the bridge. Spock overheard the words "Bones" and "bastard" in several separate conversations.
Jim stood next to his chair, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He made a little "shoo" motion with his hands, and Spock felt his raised eyebrow twitch. Through the residual effects of their broken bond, Spock could faintly feel Jim's buoyant spirits. Spock got up and moved to his own science station, relieving the ensign who had been stationed there with a nod of acknowledgement.
Jim sat on his chair and sighed in such a satisfied way, wiggling in the seat as though he was making room, that Spock noticed Lieutenant Uhura had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing outright.
"Lieutenant Sulu, report!"
"We are approximately three hours from Wrigley, sir."
"Increase warp by two factors." Jim's smile was so bright that it seemed to light up the room. Spock noticed how several of the crew members' own emotions seemed affected by seeing their captain back in control of the Enterprise. He, naturally, was not susceptible to such emotional occurrences. He just found that a jovial atmosphere on the bridge often resulted in a coherent crew- and a coherent crew performed their duties admirably.
"Yes, sir." Even the helmsman's mood seemed moderately more positive.
Spock turned to his console and began working on several of his own projects that circumstances had forced him to let slide. Jim's exuberance was like a small burst of light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Spock was finding it difficult to completely ignore it. He found it quite puzzling that a broken bond would have such a lingering effect. Jim had actually asked him over a game of chess two nights ago. Spock had found himself somewhat at a loss to answer Jim's questions. No, he had never heard of this happening before. Yes, logically it was possible that it was a side-effect of his only half-Vulcan physiology. Jim did not seem overly concerned about the loss of privacy. Spock quickly deduced that Jim's sense of his ex-bondmate's emotions was not as strong as Spock's unless there was physical contact. Spock had composed a lengthy missive to his counterpart, asking for advice on the matter, but had yet to receive a response.
Jim was in the middle of a conversation with the Ensign Chekov when his console beeped, signifying a message. Spock happened to look up as Jim took it, and watched his face pale at an alarming rate as he read it. Spock's gaze met Lieutenant Uhura's. Her face was quite expressive, surprise indicated by a slight widening of her eyes. Most messages went through her. He made a split-second decision. Clearly, the captain's well-being was at stake, as evidenced by his sudden pallor. Spock watched as Jim made an effort to delete the message, stabbing particularly hard at the keys, straightening his spine and his back. Spock could detect a little flutter of panic in the back of his mind, but Jim showed no outward evidence, instead staring at a point slightly to the left of Ensign Chekov's head.
It was very simple to copy and divert the message to his own secure frequency. Had he not noticed the small occurrence, Spock never would have been able to do such a thing. Unfortunately, Spock had been able to find no trace of the first message that had caused Jim such distress. Whoever had sent it had also programmed a virus into it so that the material was unrecoverable.
The message was simple:
To our own lips. He's here in double trust/ Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him/ Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes/ 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy.
The picture file that accompanied it was a close-up of part of Jim's face. His normally bright eyes were dim with terror. The left side of his face was a mix of purple and yellow from extensive bruising. There were three fingers on his neck; splayed out in a bruising grip as though someone from behind Jim were hanging on to his throat. The fingers were filthy, nails and cuticles ragged and torn.
Spock felt the stylus snap in his fingers. The message started its destructive sequence; Spock stared at blue eyes as they started to fade away, the words also fading into obscurity. He was purely unprepared for the feeling of possessiveness that burst deep within him. He took a deep breath and looked over to where Jim was still staring out into space.
Spock felt as though he would hurt something if he stayed at his station for one moment longer. The depth of emotion that he felt was appalling. Even more so was the sharp memory of his own hand wrapped around Jim's fragile throat as he squeezed. Then, he had someone to react against. Jim had provoked him past endurance, therefore he must be stopped. Simple. Now, however, Spock found that there was nowhere to direct this sudden surge of rage. He had not often thought of his loss of control on the bridge, but seeing that picture had brought the memory back. Did the captain equate one moment of violence with another? He flexed his hands, forcing them out of the two clenched fists.
He stood and walked over to Jim's chair. "Permission to be excused, captain." Spock had purposefully stood within Jim's personal space so that he brushed against the captain's sprawled leg. At the touch, Jim sat up, shooting him a quick, grateful look before taking a rather shaky breath. The small jolt from Jim's feelings was somewhat soothing. Jim was pleased to see him; the little bit of panic dulled.
"No problem Spock. Shift's over in a few minutes anyway."
"Indeed." His voice was clipped. Spock felt an irrational spurt of anger at Jim. If that had been the second message, what had been communicated in the first? It was unthinkable. Spock wanted the privacy of his quarters so he could begin to track down these messages. He turned on one heel and stalked towards the turbolift, fighting to keep his face impassive.
Once inside his quarters, Spock began a sequence that would continue cross-referencing a possible list of suspects. It had been narrowed down to fifty. This was subjective in the sense that Jim's captor could have disguised their hair color or physical features, but it would have been difficult to hide their body type.
He had also initiated a separate ship-wide monitoring system that was hidden under several sub-layers of life-support, so that it would not be discovered should anyone else desire to sabotage the Enterprise's security equipment. He found it insupportable that the area around the captain's quarters had not been under continuous surveillance. If the recording devices had gone offline, then he should have been made aware of it immediately. Spock, while not technically in charge of security, still had several department heads report to him daily both as the first officer and acting captain. He had not been amused to discover such negligence.
To say the least.
He began another sequence to try to trace the messages. He tapped his monitor. "Lieutenant Uhura."
"Yes, Commander?"
"I require your presence in my quarters in approximately twelve minutes- when your shift is complete."
"Ah…yes sir."
Spock ended the communication and continued to work, quickly lost in thought. When the chimes on his door cheeped to indicate that someone was seeking entrance, Spock didn't hear it the first time. He had narrowed the list down to thirty- four names.
"Spock?" Nyota's voice through the door.
"Enter." He finished up rechecking the calculation he was working on and turned in his chair to where she stood, uncertainly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"Nyota. I wish information. Please be seated." Spock attempted to modulate his voice. Some of his anger had subsided, but enough bubbled near the surface that Spock knew he must be cautious.
"Yes?" She sat on the bed and looked up at him, tilting her head in question.
"The captain has received two threatening messages to date."
She blinked, eyes narrowing. "I beg your pardon?"
"I do not know the contents of the first message. The captain was quite distressed. The message was written to self-destruct with a virus so that it was irretrievable once open for a certain amount of time."
"And the second? On the bridge?"
"Lines from the ancient Earth playwright, William Shakespeare. From Macbeth, I believe. They were not in their original order. Rather, they had been rearranged to form a threat. This was accompanied by a picture of Jim while on the enemy ship."
His hands tightened in his lap as he recalled the picture of Jim's eyes, the same feelings of fury and protectiveness overwhelming him for a moment. He fought it down with an effort, focusing on his breathing, uncomfortably aware that Nyota was still watching him. Spock took his duty as protecting the captain very seriously. That someone would purposefully seek to harm him...!
"You're . . . mad."
She always was uncommonly perceptive for a human. He opened his mouth to speak but before Spock could answer, his door chime whistled. "Enter," he said instead.
The doors whooshed open again to reveal Jim. He walked in with his head down, and seemed to catch a glimpse of Nyota on Spock's bed out of the corner of his eye. Jim's step faltered and he quickly looked up. His expression, which had looked fairly worried, changed to embarrassment.
"Oh. I'm interrupting. I'd just gotten used to walking on in. Sorry about that. Lieutenant. Commander. I'll catch you guys later." His smile looked somewhat less than his usual blinding grin. Before either of them could speak, he had turned on his heel and left.
Spock found himself tensed to go after Jim. He settled back into his seat. Nyota was still looking at him. He could feel a slight flutter of embarrassment at the back of his head, and knew that it was not coming from himself.
"You're not going after him?" Nyota's expression turned even more curious.
"That would be unwise. I would likely cause the captain more distress. I find myself highly… agitated over the implications that someone is purposefully trying to harm him."
"So, basically you need me to help." She thought for a moment. "I would like to know for sure where the messages came from; through subspace or off of the ship itself." Nyota stood and crossed to his computer, swinging the console out of his hands. Her fingers fairly flew over the keys as they struggled to keep up with her brain. Spock found that he was quite pleased with the quiet work environment and soon immersed himself in his own projects, content.
**
Jim sat by himself at a table near the back of the recreational area. He knew he should probably go into his quarters if he was going to mope, but he was pretty sick and tired of hiding in there. It made him feel weak.
And fuck him if he wasn't sick of feeling weak.
"You're looking especially pathetic today." Bones sat down in the chair across from him, not bothering to ask permission. He plopped a tray down in front of Jim, and one in front of himself.
"Hi Bones. What the hell is this?"
"Hi yourself. It's called vegetables. So, first day back I thought you'd be a little more… smiley. You look like someone just shot your dog."
"Yeah. I guess. Just tired I think."
Bones leaned over, tilting Jim's chin up so that he could look over him. It was a gesture he'd done hundreds of times. Jim was pleased that random touches didn't send him running down the corridor screaming, but it still made his skin feel too tight.
"You don't look too bad; better than I'd expect actually. Either you're repressing like a sonuvabitch or…"
Jim gently disengaged from Bones's grip. "I think it was something they did to me on New Vulcan. Ambassador Salkek was helpful. It's a really weird feeling. Like, all those emotions- being scared or disgusted... or humiliated are there, but not really there. If you know what I mean."
"No. I really don't."
Jim blew out a breath, trying to explain. "Okay so imagine your everyday, normal Vulcan."
"I'd really rather not." Bones smirked.
"How do you think a Vulcan would look at emotion?" Jim stole a fry off of his friend's tray.
"Logically?" Bones took a bite of his hamburger, interested despite himself.
"I think so." He pointed the fry at Bones. "It's like all that shit is there, just waiting for me to examine it, but I can do it when I want instead of having my memories jump up on me. It's like every day things have gotten clearer and clearer."
Bones's gaze narrowed. "Okay, so why were you sitting there looking like your dog just died?"
"Oh."
He didn't want to tell Bones about the three messages he'd received. He knew that Bones would go nuclear if he knew what had been in them. Hell, his head was about to explode. The first one had scared the bejesus out of him, the second had started to piss him off, and the third had just made him sad. He was just so tired of this. After his shift had ended, he had gone to Spock to ask him if he would mind helping him track down who was sending the messages, but had walked in on him and Uhura. That had just been embarrassing. He just wanted to talk to the guy, not cockblock him.
"You know… I think when you get back into your normal routine you'll start feeling better." Bones took another bite of his burger, then slapped at Jim's hand when he reached for another one of his fries. "Veg-ta-bles. Eat them. Or you'll be grounded again."
"Yeah, well a certain evil bastard I know just recently allowed me to go back to duty." Jim stared at his tray, vaguely nauseated. He wasn't sure what the replicator had done to the mess of green... things…on his plate, but he was pretty sure it wasn't edible. He cautiously tried a green bean, trying not to actually taste it.
"Yeah, well, this evil bastard only had your best interests at--"
"You know, maybe I do need to go back to my normal routine. Get drunk. Get laid."
"Well, that would just be fucking stupid. You don't need to get laid after what you just went through, emotional enema or not."
Bones was interrupted by Jim's communicator.
"Bridge to Captain Kirk."
"Kirk here."
"Message for you sir. From a Mr. Riley. Kevin Riley."
Jim felt his heart give a funny little flutter. "I'll take it here. Thanks." Jim saw Bones start to leave, but Jim shook his head at him, reaching out and touching his wrist.
"Kev?" The man on the small screen looked willowy and pale. He was small in stature. The eyes were the only thing that Jim recognized. Kevin was only about nineteen years old, but he looked older than Jim, nothing like the little half-starved boy Jim remembered taking care of.
"Hey Jimmy. Jim. Um, Captain Kirk." Kevin smiled, and all at once, he wasn't someone so different after all. "I heard that you're going to come and pick me up with that badass ship of yours."
"Yeah, something like that. We have a stop to make first. Do you remember Erica?"
"Yeah. She's the one that told me you were looking for me. We keep in contact pretty regularly."
"Oh." Jim felt the normal spike of guilt that hit him whenever he allowed himself to remember his childhood. How he basically abandoned them.
"Well, I was just about to make your life a little easier. I'm on my way to Wrigley. Maybe ten or so hours out?" There was the sound of another voice giving an affirmative off screen. "Yeah. Anyway. Do you think you'd be interested in maybe meeting up? Maybe dinner with me 'n Erica?"
"That would be awesome, Kev. Let me know when you arrive, okay?"
"Okay. And… Jimmy? It's really good to see you again."
"Yeah. You too, kid." Jim smiled at him and signed off.
Bones gave him a minute after he ended the call before jumping back into his previous conversation. "I'm serious Jim. Going back to that right now is a pretty damn fool move. Last thing you need right now is to be drunk."
"I don't know, Bones, I'm thinking it sounds pretty damn good. Maybe arrange for some shore leave for the crew while we're on Wrigley? Help out with crew morale and all."
Bones opened his mouth to argue with him, but was interrupted by his own communicator this time. "Dr. McCoy you're needed in Sick bay."
"Damnit. Acknowledged." He leaned forward onto the table. "You better not do anything stupid, kid. I just worry about you. Come see me if you're feeling particularly like making any idiotic choices, okay?"
Riii-iiight. "Yeah, sure. See ya!"
Bones stalked off. Jim switched their plates and began happily munching on the rest of Bone's hamburger. He decided that indeed the crew could definitely use some shore leave. He licked some ketchup off of his finger and quickly gave the orders. During the first month of his captaincy he had arranged a skeleton crew for the Enterprise done on a rotation basis, so that everyone would have a chance to enjoy their shore leave.
"Captain?" Jim looked up from his task to see Yeoman Karidian standing uncertainly at his table. He smiled up at her. She blushed.
"Have a seat."
"Oh, thank you sir. That's not necessary. I was just double-checking to see if you needed anything specific in your quarters. I noticed that there was some glass near the eating area a few days ago."
"Yeah, I uh. Broke something. Sorry about that. I should have cleaned it up. I just got too used to you taking such good care of me. And here, you're going to be the first to hear the news." He punched in the code for a ship-wide broadcast into the wall console.
"This is the captain speaking. My bridge informs me that we will be arriving at the planet Wrigley within the hour. I'm pleased to announce a ship-wide shore leave. Please access the duty roster for who is on duty first. See your officer in charge if there are any questions." He grinned at the whoops of delight in the recreation area. Apparently people had not noticed him sitting back in the shadowy corner. "Wrigley is known as a pleasure planet. Feel free to double your pleasure; just don't bring it back to my ship. Have fun. Kirk out."
Decision made, Jim grinned even wider up at the Yeoman who was now at least smiling faintly. "Would you please have a seat? You're making me strain my neck."
She sat, blushing a little more. It had been so long since he had had a chance to flirt with anyone that Jim found himself enjoying himself immensely. "Okay, so tell me. How do you like it here on the Enterprise?"
"I, uh. Find it very nice, sir. There is quite a lot to do here."
"Where were you stationed before the Enterprise?" Jim leaned forward. Her eyes were downcast, but he could see how she was peeking up at him through her lashes. It was rather adorable, actually. Her whole posture had changed, relaxed as she conversed.
"My father is an actor, actually. So was I for awhile. He had to retire rather suddenly and we found ourselves without anything to do. So I joined…"
"Captain."
Jim was surprised at Spock's clipped tone. He had left the bridge so quickly that Jim hadn't gotten a chance to speak to him. By the time he had made it to Spock's quarters to ask him what had set him off, he and Uhura were… occupied.
"Hey, Spock. What's up?"
"I desire to speak with you." Jim winced. Shit. Whatever he had done must be pretty epic. He didn't know how someone who frequently claimed to have no emotions did it, but Spock sounded pissed.
"Oh. Well, I'll be with you in a moment."
Spock's lips tightened. "Very well. I will wait." His gaze flicked over Yeoman Karidian and back over Jim, managing to make Jim feel like he had been caught doing something rude during class.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Sorry about this Yeoman. Maybe we can continue this some other time. Thanks for your concerns. It was nice to talk to a pretty girl for a little while. Usually I can't get away from him and Bones." He smiled again at her and was happy to see her blush at the compliment.
She nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you sir. Have a good night."
Jim grabbed his tray of untouched vegetables and Bones' empty tray and dropped it off on the way out of the room.
"I was not aware that you and the Yeoman were dining companions."
"Yep. So, what did you need?" Jim found himself speeding up a little in order to keep up with Spock's long strides. He hadn't realized that it was even possible for a Vulcan's footsteps to sound pissed.
"I find myself puzzled by your illogical actions."
Jim blinked. "Really? Can you be more specific?" They paused for a moment in front of the turbolift, standing aside as a few beaming crew members got off before them.
"I find that statement will encompass most of your actions. Deck seven."
Now wait just a damn minute. Jim hit the control that stopped the lift. "Now wait just a damn minute! What the hell, Spock?" He reached out and grabbed the Vulcan's arm, trying to turn him towards Jim. It was like hanging onto a particularly stubborn tree. Expecting that Spock would turn, Jim lost his balance, having to take a quick step towards Spock before he fell over. The movement brought them so close that Jim could feel the blast of heat from Spock's body. He could actually feel how angry Spock was through their connection. Jim forgot that he had actually asked a question for a moment as he stared into Spock's eyes. He felt his body start to respond, which was pretty damn unfair. While it was nice to know that he still had a sex drive, this was so not the time. Spock looked like he wanted to throttle him again.
When Spock finally spoke, Jim could feel each separate puff of air from the words against his lips. "Even in this corner of the galaxy, Captain, two plus two equals four. Almost certainly, an attempt will be made to kill you. Why do you invite death?"
Jim blinked, taking a hasty step back. He let go of Spock's arm, and was completely astounded when Spock took a step forward, back into Jim's space. His heart began to beat more quickly as adrenaline surged through his body at Spock's aggression. Part of his mind was screaming at him that he was stuck in a very small space with an irate Vulcan who was about to become even more emotionally compromised. Part was screaming that if he moved just that much they would be kissing.
"You are not unintelligent. Why would you allow a shore leave when we have not yet caught the person responsible for your kidnapping?"
Oh. Well, fuck.
"Captain, I find that your apathy towards putting yourself in danger by your unending desire to cogitate with your genitalia quite distressing on both a personal and professional level.
"I. uh…" Did Spock just accuse him of thinking with his dick? But before he could respond with anything more approximating Standard speech, Spock was moving away from him and back to the other side of the turbolift, as though he couldn't bear to be any closer to the human sharing the small space with him.
"Deck. Seven." Spock bit out.
Jim tentatively tried to reach out to Spock through their connection, only to find what felt like titanium walls slamming down between him and Spock's mind, cutting him off completely. Somehow, that hurt more than Spock's harsh words. The rest of the lift ride was conducted in silence. Spock left on his deck, walking purposefully towards the science labs. Jim noted, as the turbolift's doors slid shut, that the other crew members were practically throwing themselves against the bulkhead in order to not be between the stalking Vulcan and his destination.
Fuck.
Jim stood there for a moment, appalled. What was wrong with him? He had been almost ready to jump Spock not three minutes ago. Even more troubling was the sick, lonely feeling he had in his stomach. Adrift. All at once he was very vividly reminded of walking alone in his mind, searching for something that had been lost to him. Jim blinked again. Spock had been right, of course. Jim hadn't been thinking about his own safety.
Three hours later found Jim in a much better headspace. Getting drunk had never sounded so good.
He had been unable to contact Erica Molson. He had tried to set up a meeting with her but she had not yet returned his message. Spock had managed to circumvent all of Jim's attempts to discuss his mistake. Jim couldn't retract his shore leave without a damn good reason, and the fact that maybe someone from his past might come after him was not good enough. He had an amazing group of people working with him, and they deserved some time to relax. The last shore leave had been a quick weekend on D'monici III, and cut short by a slight diplomatic incident involving a not-so virginal Clan Chief daughter's very protective little brother. Actually, that little misunderstanding had been quite embarrassing to explain in his report to Starfleet.
So, Jim found himself beaming down with the rest of his crew, walking the streets until he found himself at a bar that didn't look too dangerous. He wasn't in the mood to kick anyone's ass today. Or have his ass kicked, for that matter.
He darted into the bar and sat in the back. There was some very nice Romulan Ale with his name on it, freedom from disapproving Vulcan first officers, and many pretty women around who, Jim was sure, would be more than willing to help him forget his little reaction towards his First Officer.
Two bars later, he was feeling pretty good. Especially when he caught the gaze of a familiar face. She wasn't wearing her Regulations, but had chosen instead something much more feminine. Her blonde hair shone in the dim light of the bar. Jim made his way over to her, watching her out of the corner of his eye, much as he had done with Uhura so many years ago.
"Yeoman Karidian! Are you gonna let me buy that drink for you now?"
"Captain. How very nice to see you again." Jim was just buzzed enough that he could appreciate the difference between Yeoman Karidian and the off-duty version. "You left so quickly earlier. We never got to finish our conversation."
"Aww, I'm sorry. Here, let's go sit down and we can catch up." He scanned the crowded bar for a free table. Jim's mind was thinking about all sorts of things like: 'contact unbecoming an officer' and 'sleeping with a subordinate' and 'maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all' but the alcohol beat those thoughts into submission. He was here, she was interested, and this shouldn't be that complicated.
"Why don't you get the table, and I'll get our drinks."
Jim nodded and went off. He managed to snag a table before a particularly inebriated Gorncould get its hands on it, glaring at him until it moved off. He never could tell which was female and which was male.
"Here we go!" She sat down several shots of something lilac in color. "Drink up." He did, unable to help the smile that bloomed on his face. Take that Bones. Getting drunk and laid was a damn excellent idea.
"You asked me how I enjoyed the Enterprise." Her voice fairly purred now. "I do find myself enjoying it very much. On the ship there's all this power, surging and throbbing. Yet under control. Are you like that, Captain?"
"You really should be calling me Jim." Something very faint was starting to warn him that there wasn't something right, that he was forgetting something important, but as the next shot of lilac alcohol slid down his throat the faint thought completely disappeared. "And I guess you'll just have to find out."
mi
"Okay, seriously what the hell is your problem?"
"I beg your pardon, Lieutenant?"
"Don't you dare 'Lieutenant' me, Commander. We aren't on duty. I want to know what's made you so mad." Nyota sat across from him, eyes narrowed in a glare that he hadn't seen since he tried to assign her to another ship. Her arms were crossed and her chin was stuck out at such a sharp angle that Spock was privately 76.8 percent certain that she would strain something if it remained in that position for too much longer.
He finished entering his last few keystrokes.
Nyota's glare became even more pronounced. Spock found it improbable that one petite human woman could look so foreboding. He sighed.
"I have several problems at the moment that need my attention. Perhaps this instant isn't the best time for a discussion."
She made a sound under her breath. "Spock, are we friends?"
"We have discussed that since we are no longer intimately involved our relationship is now that of friends, yes."
"And what does that mean, exactly?"
"I do not understand the question."
"What does it mean to you, Spock, to have me as a friend?" her voice was quite without emotion, and the strangeness of hearing her speak in this manner caused faint alarm bells to go off in Spock's head.
"I value your intelligence. And kindness. And our camaraderie over a meal is something I find myself looking forward to after a particularly grueling day." Spock detected a slight thawing in her body language.
"Thank you. I feel the same way. And I want to help you. But you have to explain for me, Spock, because I don't understand why fifteen minutes ago you jumped up as though I had poked you and left in the middle of a conversation, only to stalk back in here later looking like you wanted to kill someone. You've been sitting there, punching those keys so hard that I know it had to hurt; I remember how sensitive your hands are. And now, you won't talk to me." She sighed, and seemed to slump in on herself. "I know you value your privacy, but you've been so different these past few weeks. And you keep shutting me out. I just want to help you." She repeated, blinking hard, suspicious moisture in her eyes.
Spock frowned. It had not been his intention to provoke such an emotional response in Nyota. Friendship was a fairly foreign concept to him- other than Nyota and the recent tentative forays with Jim he had none and hadn't really minded that fact- but he did not care for the fact that he had upset her.
He reached out and touched the back of her hand with a finger- a Vulcan version of a peck on the cheek.
"My apologies, Nyota. It was not my intention to. . ." he searched for the correct Human term, ". . . hurt your feelings. It is true that you will likely be able to assist me with my current situation. I confess, I have wished to have someone to discuss the matter with, but have not wished to burden you with my own… weakness."
Nyota smiled, looking down at his hand where it rested near hers. "Okay, so… what's up?"
Spock paused, gathering his thoughts. "I accidentally bonded with the captain." Nyota's eyes grew wide enough that Spock reflected that he possibly should have led up to that revelation.
"You…"
"Indeed. I do not know how I could have made such an error. I believe it happened while I was on the ship with the captain. I initiated a meld with him while he was–" Spock broke off, remembering for a moment the horrific sound emanating from Jim's throat, echoing off the walls of the ship. "Quite distraught. Later, I had the bond removed."
"You had the bondremoved?" She sounded more horrified at the idea of the bond's removal than by the fact that Spock had bonded to Jim in the first place. "But a bond between a Vulcan and their mate is revered. Sacred even. That meeting of minds… why, you would have everything in your mate." She sounded wistful.
"You are correct, although I confess I am curious to how you came by this knowledge. Humans are not commonly aware of the vital nature of a bond outside of the occasional vague understanding of their existence."
Nyota bit her lip and looked away from him.
Spock raised an eyebrow. He had taught enough human cadets to know what that particular expression meant.
"Um…"
"Nyota, your hesitation would seem to indicate that you are not planning to be forthright in your verbal response."
"Well." She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I was a cadet embarking on a serious relationship with the only Vulcan in Starfleet. I, um, wanted information so I…asked."
"Who did you ask?" Spock asked the question but was 93.9 percent sure that he already knew the answer.
"I uh... started a communication with... um… your mother."
Spock opened his jaw to speak, then quite unable to find any words that would adequately express the idea that he wanted to communicate, shut it again with a small 'pop'.
"I didn't do it to embarrass you! Or anything else really; I just didn't want to do something . . . culturally insensitive. I told her that I was doing research for a xenobiology project." Her lips quirked. "And I was, just not one that I ever got graded on."
Suddenly a number of queries within the Academy correspondence between him and his mother made much more sense. For a moment he imagined her face as she read his letter, telling her offhandedly about Nyota. Her amusement barely kept in check when she smiled, the impish twist of her lips, her brown eyes fairly dancing with suppressed mirth while she read both Nyota's and his messages. As he did, he found that for the first time in just over a standard year he could picture his mother in some way other than at the moment of her death.
Nyota cleared her throat; face softening as she touched his forearm. "Anyway, so yes. I understand what a bond is. But not why you would break such a… gift."
The timbre of Spock's voice was roughened when he answered, "Jim said much while we were linked. He was most clear on the point: he did not want anyone in his head."
Nyota looked furious again. "That, that, insensitive, idiotic… bastard!"
Something twanged in the vicinity of Spock's heart when he heard her words. "I am quite certain that Jim's parents had indeed been legally joined in the state of matrimony prior to his birth. It is also… I did not…" It was Spock's turn to break her gaze and stare at the table. "I did not tell him of the bond. There was no need, as his feelings were quite clear."
Spock had been looking away from Nyota, and therefore was absolutely astounded when he felt the sharp sting of her hand on his shoulder.
"Did you just strike me?"
"You were in Jim's head? After he was kidnapped? We don't need the specifics Spock; his crew had a pretty good idea what happened to him on that damn ship. So after he is reeling from… that…and you… you didn't even tell him?!"
Really, his hearing was far superior to that of a human's. Spock felt it was highly unnecessary for Nyota's tone to reach quite that high a decibel level.
Her arms were once again crossed in front of her, only this time her glare was even more pronounced. "I have never heard of a bond being broken before. Are you blaming your little man-tantrum on that?"
Spock blinked. There was no reason for rudeness. He opened his mouth to answer her, but she shook her head.
"Never mind. Just get on with the story. What does that have to do with you stalking back into here like a particularly grouchy ten-year-old?"
"I have felt residual effects from the bond's destruction. I can often sense Jim's emotions when he is feeling something particularly strongly."
Nyota raised an eyebrow, just staring at him. Spock was beginning to understand how annoying that particular expression was to others when he used it. "A 'residual effect', huh?"
"Indeed. I felt Jim when he got the first message. He had what Dr. McCoy referred to as a 'panic attack' by whatever was sent to him. Similarly, I have been assisting with discovering who had put Jim on that ship in the first place. But the captain, who clearly has no respect for his own safety, then announced that the crew of the Enterprise would be allowed to go on shore leave. I desired to find the captain and explain the folly of allowing this without knowing the identity of his attacker."
She spoke fast. "How is it logical that you can feel a nonexistent bond? If there is no connection, then how do you explain what you were picking up from the captain?"
Spock, who was fully capable of thinking on a number of subjects at once, found his brain slide to a complete halt. That was it, the question he had been skirting around for several days. How could he detect something that should not, could not, be there? Several things slid into place at once. He remembered his counterpart's disappointment that he would ask for his bond to be broken. He remembered the way his counterpart had casually insisted on being the one to do the 'breaking'. How he had put Spock into a deep sleep before roaming Spock's unprotected mind.
He was aware that his face must have communicated complete and utter shock by the accompanying gentle, pitying expression on Nyota's face. Before she could speak, their computer console beeped.
Automatically, they both looked at the readout. The computer had narrowed down the names of the crewmembers that had not been on duty or observed by another crew member, with those who met the physical requirements. Nyota had also cross-referenced the list with those who had shown a particular affinity for computers, based on information from their personnel files. The list now had five names on it. At the top, with a 76.9 probability, was Yeoman Lenore Karidian.
"Computer. Is Yeoman Karidian aboard the ship?"
"Affirmative. Yeoman Karidian beamed aboard the ship eleven-point-six minutes ago."
Spock started to rise, almost not feeling the restraining hand Nyota had put on his shoulder. "Wait. Wait, Spock."
"What is the logic in waiting?"
Nyota's hand tightened on his arm. "How can you be certain that it was her? Not to be rude or anything, but you can't just go in there without some sort of plan. Right now she has no idea that we suspect-"
Spock interrupted. "I do not care for the way she stares at the captain. She had access to his personal belongings. The computer's findings only confirmed my suspicion. Please stand aside."
"Just- wait a second!"
Spock jerked his hand out of her grip and pivoted, tapping a wall console as he did so. "Commander Spock to the bridge. Please raise the shields to their full capacity, and lock down all transporter pads to unlock to my voice command only. Do not activate the ship-wide alert system."
"Uh...understood, sir."
Spock was already striding down the corridor, Nyota trailing after him. "Wait, Spock! Please!" She sounded so desperate that he stopped, turning to her. "You just can't go barging in there," she repeated. "Not alone!"
"Computer, locate Yeoman Karidian."
"Yeoman Karidian is in her quarters."
"Location of Yeoman Karidian's quarters?"
"Yeoman Karidian is located on deck fourteen, berth 27-A." Nyota nodded at him and they strode to the turbolift. It whooshed open.
"Computer, is the Yeoman alone in her quarters?"
"Affirmative."
Nyota spoke as the doors shut behind them. "Computer. Is Captain Kirk on board the Enterprise?"
"Negative. Captain Kirk disembarked two hours and twenty-three minutes ago to the surface of Wrigley."
Spock thought that every muscle in his body, save his pounding heart, froze for a moment before dismissing the illogical hyperbole. Part of him wanted to go to the transporter room immediately, while the other part of him knew it was logical to interrogate Karidian first. He felt Nyota's hand on his forearm and looked down, having quite forgotten for a moment that he was not alone in the lift.
"We'll get information from her. You can have a security team start to look for the captain."
The rest of the lift ride was made in silence while Spock quickly weighed the pros and cons. Spock waited until they were close to the Yeoman's quarters before summoning Security. "Commander Spock to Security Chief Georges. Security team A is to beam down and start a planet-wide search for Captain Kirk." He also ordered the bridge to unlock the transporters so the team could beam down. "Security team B to Yeoman Karidian's quarters. Remain outside while I speak with the Yeoman."
"Acknowledged, sir."
Spoke strode to the door and entered his override. The doors whooshed open, and he quickly stepped in with Nyota behind him. The woman inside whirled and gave a little scream, eyes darting between himself and Nyota. She had a number of items clutched in her hands. It was clear that she was packing her personal belongings. She began to laugh, setting the items on the bed.
"I suppose, as they say, the jig is up." She moved her hands so that they were visible. "Father would laugh to know that I got caught for sentimentality. But I couldn't leave my little trinkets, now could I?"
Spock, against his better judgment, glanced at the items on the bed. A stained, ripped gold Command uniform shirt. A hairbrush. A framed picture of the same car, one beautiful and shining in the sun and the other destroyed. A broken communicator. Spock heard a low growl, and only realized it was coming from him when Nyota looked away from Karidian for a brief moment. She took a step closer to the other woman. Away from Spock.
Spock fought to get control of his emotions. He had never quite understood the idiom 'seeing red with rage' until just that moment. He had the urge to rip, to tear, to destroy. Even when fighting Jim on the bridge, his emotions had not been stripped quite this raw. Then, he had reacted without thinking. Now, he struggled to keep his hands at his sides and not wrap them around this human woman's throat.
"Where is Captain Kirk?" Nyota's voice was cold.
The tittering laugh again, high and girlish. Karidian smirked at Spock, ignoring Nyota as though she were not there. "Your captain. My father was most displeased when I told him of your heroic rescue. He was quite fur—i--ous." She laughed again. "Come what come may…. Time and the hour runs through the roughest day," she sing-songed, delighted with herself. "He has his prize now. Only two left. From five to two, five to two…" her voice trailed off as Spock turned back to the bed, scooping up the items with a smooth movement. He desperately needed to have his hands occupied right now.
"Where did you leave Jim?" Spock spoke tightly. This was an illogical waste of time. Clearly the woman would not tell him. He was loathe to connect his mind to this woman's in any way, but would do it if he must, Starfleet regulations be damned.
"That's for me to know, and you to find out, silly!" The tone of her voice changed again. "Those are my things." Her voice dropped into a hiss. "You will never find him. My father will take him take-him-take-him, bathe in the sweat from his body, in his blood and his seed and you …will... nevernevernever…"
"You Bitch!" Spock turned just in time to see Nyota's fist connect with the insane woman's jaw, sending her collapsing to the floor, unconscious. She turned, taking a step towards Spock, flexing her fingers a couple of times before placing her hands on his shoulders. He could feel her worry and fear. It hit him with an almost physical jolt, and he stepped back, clutching Jim's uniform in his hand. His control was imperfect and the kick of her emotive state was stark. "You have to relax. Calm down, Spock. You found Jim once, and you can do it again. You said he's in your head." She actually tried to shake him. "Well use your head, damnit!"
Spock's eyes closed. He reached out...
…and nothing. No feeling of 'Jim' whatsoever. He jerked away from Nyota and stepped through the doors, stalking towards the turbo lift without a word. He could feel a muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. Vaguely he could hear her giving orders to the security team stationed out Karidian's door. He entered the lift.
"Deck seven." Spock's attention was so focused inward that he arrived in the transporter room before he knew it. Why couldn't he feel Jim? It was like there was a wall—
A wall. Of course. He had been so furious at Jim while riding in the turbolift that he had shielded against him. "Beam me to Captain Kirk and Yeoman Karidian's last known location." Logically, if she had destroyed Jim's transporter, she would have done so before moving him to avoid detection. He strode up to the pad and turned, tearing down his mental shields as he felt the pushpull of the transporter, and reappeared outside of a crowded bar. As on the ship, Spock was walking towards the bartender without even being fully aware that he was moving.
"I require information. A Human man in a Starfleet uniform- captain's stripes, blue eyes- was here approximately two and one half standard hours ago. He was likely sitting with a human female out of uniform. Blonde hair."
There was a chittering sound and Universal Translator translated the bartender's words into Standard. "Yes. I remember her. She was a big tipper, she was. Loves the Lotus rum. Ordered enough to …" The translator even translated the being's chuckle. "Heh heh heh, have herself a nice night with the man you described."
Spock's eye twitched. Orion Lotus rum had almost become a banned item for its high alcohol content with a fairly powerful aphrodisiac. He looked around at the patrons of the establishment. There was such a mix of different beings in the small dim space that Spock found it difficult to maintain his shields against the insistent pull of emotion. He had just begun to reinforce his mental shields when he felt a slight shiver inside his head; then- an overwhelming wave of abhorrence/want/terror/disgust/fear--
Spock stumbled, thrown completely off-balance by the strength of the mental surge. He leaned against the bar, breathing heavily, hands curled into the wooden surface so strongly that the metal reinforcements groaned. Jim. Frantic- despondent-.
kill-you-kill-MYSELF-ohnoineedaway-away-oh-god-oh-nonoNO
For what felt like hours, but logically could only be seconds, Spock literally couldn't separate his own sense of self from the pulsating wave of Jim's emotional turmoil. There was so much, so very many nuances of panic there that Spock's mind reeled. As though he were far out of his own body, he realized that the bartender had cocked an eyestalk his way and was waving it concernedly. The universal translator was indicating that the bartender was asking him something, but Spock found himself afraid to let go of the surface that he grasped. It gave another ominous creak. Spock felt a sharp jab of pain as a large splinter sliced the flesh of his palm.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. Strangely, the pain from the splinter caused his mind to focus. Dimly, he was able to nod to the bartender.
"Jim--" Spock could only do the equivalent of a mental gasp. He was aware of an almost incapacitating nausea coming from his human, laced underneath with the furious heat of… lust?
Through the bond, Spock could feel Jim's utter shock, and then the wave of relief crashed over him with almost the same fervor as the fear, making his knees weak. Spock collapsed against the bar again.
Tentative, as though worried it wasn't true- 'Spock?' Then, 'Spock please you have to help he's here it's Him and he--- '
'You must calm yourself, Jim. I will come for you. But you must …'
'Please-I-pleasehurryhe-' The mental feeling of a deep breath. The wave of bright, excruciating emotion receded somewhat. 'It's… Kodos. He has me. He…'
'He will not have you for long. I am coming, Jim.'
Spock took another steadying breath and opened his eyes. The bartender was helping another customer, but the eyestalk was still turned Spock's way. Spock let go of the bar's surface and flexed his fingers. The cut on his palm stung as the air hit the green blood that had welled up from the small wound.
There was no time. Spock knew he must work fast if he were to find Jim quickly. He shut his eyes, picturing the bond that he remembered from Jim's head. It was still sick-looking, although more solid than before. The knowledge of what to do was just suddenly there, and with a muttered curse he could see the bond's aura when he closed his eyes. When they opened, it was as though he could still intuit where the bond was. It stretched, almost gossamer thin. Faintly, Spock could feel Jim at the end of it. He spun on his heel and was off, doing his best not to think too hard about the pulsating emotions that Jim was still feeling. Spock followed the bond, around corners and through alleyways. He didn't anticipate it being all that far away. The yeoman would have had to incapacitate Jim and get him to the rendezvous point for her father.
The yeoman. Spock walked faster, almost jogging now, furious with himself. He had not wanted to identify the emotions that had taken over his thoughts. He could still remember what he felt watching her touch his captain's bedspread-why had that one thing replayed over and over in his brain?- what he felt remembering it afterwards; how no amount of meditation had claimed his thoughts. He had over-thought his own illogical behavior, not seeing what was, to use a Standard colloquialism, right in front of his eyes. Spock had been certain that his thinking of her as a suspect had been driven by his irrationality, and had ignored his instincts.
Illogical behavior still ruled him. Starfleet regulations dictated that he inform the security team of his whereabouts, but Spock did not care for the idea of others seeing Jim, (his bondmate!) in such a state. The emotions he was still feeling were growing stronger as he got closer to his destination.
hate/disgust/lust/terror
The lust was stronger. Clearly the drink had started to take effect, beginning to edge out some of Jim's stronger emotions.
Spock was in a run-down, dilapidated area of the city. He came to a stop, surveying the area, knowing that Jim was close. Spock took off his outer Starfleet tunic. If Kodos had posted guards, then seeing one lone Starfleet officer running pell-mell for the area would likely set off alarms, even with the substandard intelligence taken into account with whomever he had hired. He stashed it in a crate, hidden behind what smelled like a garbage receptacle of some sort, and slowly made his way around the corner.
From the front, there were no discernable signs that anyone was being held hostage. It looked innocuous enough, one building in the many other commercial buildings in the area. Perhaps some sort of warehouse? Spock listened carefully, but could not hear any signs of movement. There were two bright floodlights that shone down onto the front door of the building, and Spock could clearly see the recording device scanning the perimeter. That was logical. In a neighborhood such as this, posting many guards would fairly scream to the locals that you were protecting something valuable.
He paused again, impatiently, having to build even more shields between him and Jim so that he could function. It was becoming more and more difficult. Spock needed to be in there, now. It was child's play to use the fence to access the window on the second story. Spock hunched his long neck as far down as he could so that the paleness of his skin wouldn't be as obvious as he climbed the wall and hoisted himself up. His black uniform and hair rendered him practically invisible. Spock quickly broke the glass, and stepped inside the building. It was dead quiet. Continuing to listen for sounds that he had been discovered, Spock followed the bond down into the basement.
He walked slowly, making not a sound. Two of the doors were locked and easily hacked into opening. When he saw the third door, the bond gave a particularly solid movement as though settling into place, sending Spock reeling. He could hear a noise through the thin composite of the door.
It sounded like a wounded animal.
Spock saw red.
Something was roaring, the sound echoing off the walls of the small hallway. A hideous screech of metal being pried open and then he was inside.
Jim lay on the bed, turned over onto his side. He was wearing his Starfleet trousers and nothing else. The top part of his uniform lay in tatters around his torso. Spock could smell blood, Human blood, Jim's blood over the sharp scent of fear and the musky odor of semen. His vision tunneled onto Jim's form, as he writhed on the stained mattress. He could see one eye, the bright blue of his gaze boring into him before he was rushing towards the bed. There was a scream of sound, and Spock felt something whiz by his cheekbone and clank against the wall. A knife. He turned his head.
The man standing there in the bathroom slammed the door shut after throwing the dagger, cutting his terrified face off from Spock.
For a split second he was torn. Go to Jim? Go to Kodos? It wasn't much of a decision. Spock was at Jim's side in an instant, yanking on the bindings that kept Jim lying on the filthy mattress. He heard glass crashing from far off. No matter. The universe was not big enough to hide that man from his wrath.
Spock found that tremors in his hands were keeping him from efficiently untying the captain from his bonds. Blood from a small wound near Jim's neck had spilled down his torso, making the ropes slippery. Jim turned his head, and Spock could see it: a perfectly formed circle of teeth marks in the meat of Jim's shoulder. He froze, unprepared for the onslaught of possessiveness he felt upon seeing that someone else had marked his mate.
"Spock…." Jim's voice, broken. Terrified.
Spock leaned forward, and very gently licked at the bite mark.
Which, upon later reflection might have been a mistake.
Sensation.
The fiery heat of Jim's lust hit him with an almost a physical jolt. The contrast of Spock's hot tongue against the cooler skin of Jim's shoulder made him want to repeat the experience. He did, flicking the very tip against the dip in the torn flesh, just starting to bruise. He traced the mark on Jim's skin before pressing his own mouth to the spot, tasting his sweat and the faintly metallic undertone of the blood that had trickled over the bite. His teeth flirted with pressure, and then Spock sucked sharply on the skin under his mouth, pulling away with reluctance when he heard a garbled sound as Jim gasped his name.
Jim moved on the bed, twisting so that Spock's mouth broke away from his shoulder. Spock's gaze traveled down the front of Jim's body. He could see the bulge of Jim's erection behind the tight trousers. The faint wet spot on the front of the material drew his eyes like a magnet. The musky smell fascinated him. There was a light sheen of sweat on Jim's torso that glinted in the dimness of the room's light. Spock reached out his hand, stroking lightly over Jim's heat and hardness once before pulling away and holding his hand over the heat radiating from him. Jim's body arched on the bed, feet braced solidly on the mattress, trying to maneuver his cock back into Spock's hovering palm.
The small touch had caused the bond to almost pulse with awareness. For the first time, Spock met Jim's gaze directly. His breath caught. Jim had been gagged with part of his Starfleet uniform, the material tied tightly enough that the bottom part of his jaw was pale, a stark contrast to the rest of his ruddy complexion. He could feel Jim's emotions swirl around him through the bond. The almost incapacitating fear from before had bled away to confusion/lust/relief.
Spock yanked his hand back, appalled.
Jim made a frustrated sound. Reason slowly trickled back into Spock's brain. Jim was bleeding, hurt. They were in a room whereupon anyone could come along at any time. While at the bar, Jim had consumed a number of drinks; all of which contained a fairly strong aphrodisiac.
Jim was not himself.
Spock pushed away from the bed, carefully shoving his own disgust at his behavior away, rebuilding his shields as best he could. He was revolted by his own behavior. Every emotional barrier he had spent his lifetime perfecting had crumbled like sand in the wind. He turned, feeling the mattress shift as Jim protested his movement. Spock cast around for the dagger that had been left on the floor and scooped it up, turning back towards Jim. His step faltered for a minute as he watched the man on the bed.
Jim was still arching up into nothing, unable to touch himself or turn fully to rut against the mattress, the drug in his system making him desperate for some sort of friction. Spock could discern a high-pitched whine emanating from behind the gag. Jim's eyes were shut, shoulders tensed against the surface of the bed as he strained against his bindings. His face was flushed. The wound in his neck had stopped trickling blood, but traces still lingered against his skin, mixing with the sweat from his body.
Spock felt his body respond, and the flood of shame he felt at his response made him look away from his bondmate.
There was a cry from the bed, muffled by the gag. Spock hung onto his faltering shields with metaphysical tooth and nail, took a deep breath and reached out with the knife. Jim was looking at him, blown pupils obliterating the normal blue intensity of his gaze. Spock looked away and slid the knife between Jim's cheek and the ruined uniform. Jim cried out again at the feel of the cool metal on his skin. Spock reached out with a shaking hand to pull the gag away from Jim's lips just as Jim turned his head, brushing his chapped lips against the last two fingers of Spock's hand.
He caught his breath at the sensation, rough, cool skin against his smooth heated skin. His startled eyes met Jim's. Jim nuzzled against the last two fingers with his open mouth, reaching out with his tongue and tracing Spock's fingernail before drawing the two fingers into his mouth and sucking, drawing his wet lips back and forth over the hot skin.
Spock watched for a moment, mesmerized, feeling his cock twitch at the sensation of Jim's mouth on him, before jerking his hand away once again.
Jim groaned again, a needy sound in the silent room.
Spock must get him back to the Enterprise. The aphrodisiac was too deep into Jim's system. It had clearly been a strong dosage, making him act in ways he normally wouldn't act with his First Officer. Spock grabbed Jim's shoulder, gritting his teeth against the surge of Jim's emotions. He roughly turned him over, cutting the ropes in one smooth motion. Jim's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, twisting as he pulled Spock down on top of him.
Spock heard Jim's cry as his undershirt and trousers came into contact with Jim's over-stimulated skin. Then Jim's mouth was on his, holding him firmly in place. The Human way of kissing had always surprised Spock with its intimacy. Mingled saliva, the feel of a tongue against one's teeth, stroking against the walls of a mouth, the contrast between his body temperature and the much less heated human's had always initially overwhelmed Spock. It had taken him quite awhile to get used to doing this with Nyota. With Jim, there was only a slight moment of awkwardness before he could feel what to do through their connection. He was still overwhelmed, but he couldn't seem to summon the will to protest.
Jim pulled his mouth away from Spock's, pressing little biting kisses against Spock's jaw. Jim moved again, reflexes quicker than Spock had anticipated, and flicked his tongue against the very tip of Spock's ear. Spock's whole body shivered. A guttural moan broke the near silence of the room as Spock felt every nerve ending he had quiver at once. He knew his mouth was open slightly as he panted, feeling each swipe of Jim's wet, cool tongue against his ear, down the edge, and swirling lightly around the ridges. He moved back up and tugged on the tip with his teeth.
"Don't move… I just. I need to…" Jim's voice was almost unrecognizable. The desperation in it made Spock huff out his breath in another moan.
Spock thought his eyes were going to roll back in his head. As it was, his logic deserted him when Jim pushed him back onto the bed, following him with his body. He could hear Jim's heavy breathing; feel the strength in his bondmate's fingers as he undid the button and zip, roughly pushing down Spock's trousers. In no time at all, still reeling from the sensations of Jim's lips and mouth, Spock found himself staring dazedly at Jim while he knelt in front of him, looking down at his cock with an almost fierce grin. Jim licked his lips.
There was nothing tentative about the way Jim swallowed down his cock.
Spock was not stupid; he knew about most of the standard sexual practices Humans frequently indulged in with one another, but he had never imagined this particular act would be so incredible. The wet, tight, cavern of Jim's mouth, sucking and lapping at the liquid that trickled down his shaft, holding his hips down to the bed (Spock could have easily broken Jim's hold and fully intended to do so… soon.) and bobbing down onto him so deeply that Spock felt the head bump against the back of Jim's throat. Jim was moaning around Spock, and the small vibrations made Spock flex his fingers. He was dimly aware of the small sound of the mattress tearing. When reading about this and other standard Human sexual congress, Spock had always been mildly disgusted. Now though, he found his thighs tensing as he tried not to move, afraid that he would hurt his bondmate. Spock could feel Jim enthusiastically rubbing himself against his thigh as Jim licked against the underside of his cock, up against the very sensitive ridge, and over the head. : He bobbed back down, still moaning against Spock's cock, and pulled off again, long strands of salvia and precum staining his chapped and bloody lips, over his chin. Spock managed to tilt his head and look down to see that Jim was undoing his own zipper, lifting out his own cock and fisting himself almost roughly. The one hand on Spock's hips was digging painfully into the flesh there, holding Jim's weight as he went back down on Spock's shaft sucking hard, and moving so quickly that Spock almost fell completely from his mouth before plunging back down, over and over and overandover and….
Spock heard himself give a muffled groan as he came. He could feel Jim's own release through the bond, triggered by his. He looked down once, meeting Jim's intense stare, before shutting his eyes. It was like an endless wave of pressure and pleasure, feeding on itself as Jim felt what Spock was feeling and vice versa, each sensation increasing their own excitement.
They were both quiet for a moment, breathing heavily. Spock became idly aware of the undignified pose he must present, shirt rucked up over his stomach, one arm thrown over his eyes, hand fisted with the torn cotton and fibers of the mattress still settling against the skin of the back of his hand. He was dimly aware of his trousers and pants around his ankles as Jim, completely spent, sprawled against him still breathing heavily and shivering from little aftershocks.
A sudden wave of absolute disgust and shame at his own actions caused Spock's eyes to spring wide open, where they had been drifting shut during his post-coitus contentment. There was a small, almost drowsy flutter of confusion from the bond and Spock sat up, pulling away from his bondmate and slamming up the strongest shields he could muster, horrified and aghast at his own behavior. He rolled off the bed and made his way to what were clearly bathing facilities off of the main area. The door shut behind him with hardly a sound.
**
Jim was trying not to think.
He carefully didn't think about how hard his heart was thundering in his ribs. He didn't think about the fact that he was hard again. He didn't think about the fact that he had just assaulted his friend and he definitely didn't think about how he could still taste Spock's release, salty but strangely sweet, on his tongue.
Only each of those thoughts kept chasing themselves around his head. His head pounded. The air in the small room was stifling. He slowly sat up, holding his forehead. There was a strange echo in his brain, as though each thought had a faint reverberation, like a piece of metal that rang after you stuck it.
There was something else.
Whatever that thing that had connected him to Spock was, it was back. He had felt Spock's utter disgust with him so strongly that Jim had physically recoiled. It wasn't the faint, almost fluttery feelings that had echoed down to him before; this had hit him like a phaser blast.
Jim rolled over and did up his uniform pants, stuffing his cock carelessly back inside, ignoring his arousal as best he could. The pathetic neediness he had felt from earlier was gone. That in and of itself was a shock. He felt tired, sated, horrified… and still horny but not in the desperate way he had been earlier. Jim didn't know what to do. He was standing there, staring awkwardly at a mottled bruise on his wrist when the bathroom door opened suddenly.
It took more courage than he thought he possessed to look up at Spock.
He needn't have bothered. Spock wasn't wearing his blue tunic, but he looked every inch a Starfleet officer. He stood as he usually did, with his hands clasped behind his back. His posture was more like that of his early hours on the Enterprise, not the slightly less formal Spock that Jim had gotten to know over the past year. His friend. His…
Oh god. He had… he hadhehad… no. Better not to think about that. He would have plenty of time for self-recrimination when he turned himself in to security and was thrown in the brig.
"Captain. We should go back to the ship."
Jim couldn't help it. He flinched, completely at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, stood there for a moment trying to think of where to start apologizing, and shut it with a little snap.
"Spock…" His voice trailed off, breaking a little on the last sound.
Spock had turned smartly on his heel and had crossed to the door. If Spock didn't want to talk right now, well. How could he blame him? Jim's shoulders hunched a little as he followed. He glanced quickly into the bathroom, seeing the basement windows that had been shattered. He could just barely detect the pavement outside. Kodos had clearly decided not to stick around and discuss his version of poetry with the irate Vulcan. Jim felt a quick flash of adrenaline; remembering the panic attack when he woke up with Kodos gently, almost lovingly stroking his face. He shook his head, hard. Nope. Not thinking about that now.
Jim took a shaky breath as he walked behind Spock, keeping his eyes on the floor. He felt shivery, like some kind of insect was crawling just under his skin. He instinctively tried to touch the new part of him- or would that be part of Spock?- in his head and felt his mental "fingers" absently swatted by a much larger "hand."
"Please do not attempt to use our bond. Until your mental signature is confirmed by Doctor McCoy, the use of such a high amount of psi energy could hurt you."
Good.
He made the way out of the room in silence, still trying not to think. They walked for a few feet, stopping near a stack of crates as Spock retrieved his uniform shirt and communicator. Why would he…?
"I thought it illogical to go into an unknown situation alone, making it clear that I was a Starfleet officer."
"Of course," Jim said, attempting to sound as though he hadn't just committed at least ten different crimes against his conversational partner.
Spock's shoulders straightened even more as he walked purposefully. Jim found that if he pictured an energy field around the bond (or at least the part of the bond that hurt when he thought about what he had just done to Spock) the hurt went away. He frowned, idly going down some steps. His concentration was shot when he had to adjust himself. The friction from walking in the tight trousers and having them rub against him was creating a low buzz of arousal, distracting him from his thinking. He took a quick breath. Jim pictured the energy field in the place where Spock had searched for the memories of Karidian and made the field opaque. Immediately the feeling of duality was cut off. He shivered in the cool air. The alley they were in did not smell particularly sweet, but Jim could detect his own scent swimming above the rotten garbage and stale alcohol.
His stomach clenched. They walked a few more feet, Jim still carefully not-thinking, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Spock stopped in front of him, opening his communicator.
"Commander Spock to Enterprise. Two to beam up."
Jim and Spock reappeared on the transporter pad.
"Jesus Christ, Jim can't you go anywhere without supervision?" Bones looked exasperated.
Jim forced a smile. "I guess not."
He flinched away when Bones laid a causal hand on his forearm. He'd come back from missions before numerous times with his shirt ripped in various ways, usually signifying the amount of danger he'd been in at any given time, but this time was different. Jim didn't want the two transporter techs staring at him. Or Bones. There was a surge of something dark from the bond, and Jim winced. Great. Spock probably thought that he was flaunting his body again.
"Bones, I'd really like to get to my quarters." To compose a few messages before I end my short-lived career. "You can visit me later." In the brig.
Spock stepped down off of the transporter and, with a nod, walked towards the doors.
Bones's sharp gaze zeroed in on the mark on the back of Jim's shoulder. "A bite mark? Jesus, Jim, I told you that getting shitfaced and finding some random piece of ass to screw was a bad idea!" His whisper caused Spock's shoulders to straighten. He paused for the briefest of seconds, and then left the transporter room without a sound.
"Oh my God, Bones just shut it, will you?" Jim pushed past him and walked out. He was able to catch Spock's gaze for just a moment before the turbolift doors shut. He wasn't sure what had been on his face, but Spock had deliberately looked away upon seeing it. Jim walked at a much slower rate towards the lift. He heard Bones's step up behind him and rolled his eyes.
"Bones. Seriously, I'm okay. Quit it already."
Bones made a noncommittal sound as he punched in a sequence on his tricorder. Bones's lips were tightly pressed together. Jim winced again, knowing that he was in for it as soon as they had a modicum of privacy. He remembered that look from the academy- when Bones was actually so pissed off that he was having trouble figuring out which thing to bitch about first.
Great.
Bones stopped the turbo lift as soon as the doors slid shut.
Jim was still too numb to react with much surprise.
"I didn't say anything about the shit that you took—though what the fuck possessed you to start swilling Orion joy juice? It should be out of your system in a few hours, anyway. I also didn't say anything about you coming back to your ship and assuming your command covered in blood and sweat and come. You're an adult," here his voice made it clear that he was highly doubtful of Jim's adult status, "and can do anything you damn well please. I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but when Spock goes ballistic- well, 'ballistic' for that green-blooded hobgoblin- and sends down a security team to find you, then just about sprains something going down to look for you himself I would think you would be a little more grateful and understanding of the position you put him in to find you doing god knows what." Bones stepped out of the lift and walked away.
It turned out that Jim wasn't as numb as he thought. His heart… ached.
When he could move again, he made his way blindly to his quarters and sat down. There were two messages on his console.
One from Uhura, and the other from Ambassador Salkek.
Fucking awesome. He stared at the little blinking light that signified Uhura's message had been waiting for him for a long time. He hadn't even thought of Uhura. There hadn't been much thought at all. She and Spock had kept their relationship quiet enough that Jim really hadn't thought about it, other than to tone down the endless flirting, pretty sure that Spock wouldn't appreciate the running joke they had between them.
Now though… his eyes shut. He was suddenly exhausted. Really, he couldn't have fucked things up more if he had written out a script beforehand. He looked at the message from the Ambassador, briefly wondering if he could get away with ignoring her. Coward. He pushed the button sharply, as though to punish himself.
'Captain. I would like to discuss something with you off the record. When you're ready, no rush or anything. I'm glad Spock was able to find you. He was really worried. Oh and attached is the paperwork for that Karidian woman. I don't suppose you'd believe she slipped and fell into my fist?'
Jim blinked. He had no idea what she was talking about. He scrubbed his hand over his face quickly, wincing when he realized that he could smell Spock on him. He pulled up the other message.
"Captain Kirk. In the past five days since your departure from New Vulcan, my counterpart has sent me no fewer than three missives regarding the possibility of residual effects of breaking a bonding between mates. I wanted to offer my services if you have any further questions regarding this matter. I am sure that you do, old friend. Please feel free to contact me at any time should you wish it." The on-screen older Spock saluted him. "Live long and prosper… Jim."
Jim didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or burst into tears. He could just imagine that conversation. Yeah so we might have bonded for real. Or again, or whatever. After Spock saved my ass from my own stupidity, again, I thank him by raping him. Spock didn't do casual touches. Jim hadn't let him stop. He remembered at once the look of utter shock on Spock's usually unemotional face, and the brief selfish feeling of wanting to see what else he could make Spock reveal with his mouth. His touch.
He had told him not to move.
Jim jumped up from the chair and made it to the fresher just in time, sliding a little on his knees before vomiting into the toilet, heaving so hard that the little spots behind his eyes sharpened with a bright burst of light before fading.
Well, Jimmy. You've despoiled a few virgins in your time. Actually in another time too if you what Spock showed you in that meld was true, ha-ha. Looks like you have another notch to ...
"Oh, stop." Jim whispered the words, uncaring that he now seemed to be having a conversation with himself. But the thought wouldn't go away. Spock hadn't just been surprised at the fact it was a man who was touching him. He had obviously never had anyone touch him like that before. Jim had an irrational spurt of anger at Uhura, which made him hate himself more.
He wiped his mouth with a towel and stripped, stepping into the shower. He waited for a moment with his head against the cool surface before turning on the hot blast of water.
It hadn't taken him long to realize that the little smile on Yeoman Karidian's face was horribly wrong. He had been so smug, so pleased with himself at being off the ship and in the company of a beautiful woman, that he hadn't even realized what he was drinking until the first punch of dazed want hit him in the gut. When he was a kid coming back from the diplomatic clusterfuck that was Tarsus IV, it had taken him a long time to want to be around people again. He had been so proud of himself for not freaking out that he had ignored his good sense. Karidian's smile had suddenly seemed less seductive and more like a shark who knew where the tasty school was hiding. Then she had started talking about her father, and the little, screaming voice in his head has started to really worry him. He had even started to get up to leave and find something else, when the world had titled crazily and he had stumbled onto the table.
He had woken up to humming. And heat. His body had felt like it was on fire, the skin too small. His eyes were closed, and the slightly off-tune humming was familiar. His heart had started to pound, and it was a fight to keep his body from tensing up. The feeling of wrongwrongwrong was stealing his breath. The light stroke continued, from his collarbone down over his hip, his groin, and down his legs. He remembered the same pseudo-soothing touch along his body while he had been chained- right before he'd been whipped, or bitten, or hurt in other ways.
"Jimmy. I know that you're awake." The hand moved up his body and stroked his cheek.
Jim had squeezed his eyes shut; a child who believes the monster isn't really real if only he can't see it.
The bed had dipped and he felt a whisper of sound near his ear. "You made me so angry last time we were together. So defiant. So… hateful. I'm afraid I let my temper get a hold of me." A sweet, chaste kiss on his cheekbone next to his eye.
That's when Jim had panicked and reached, anguished and terrified, sick at the way his body was responding to the slow, caressing touches.
And realized that Spock was close. Looking for him. There had been an almost physical click and something in his head snapped together like the last two pieces of a puzzle.
That had given him the strength to open his eyes. To engage Kodos so that he didn't notice Spock when he found Jim. It didn't matter what he did. Spock was coming.
And then the door to the room had slammed open, Spock standing there coldly pale except for the olive tint high on his sharp cheekbones, eyes narrowed on Jim's tied-up form.
That was the last thing that Jim clearly remembered before the drug in his system took over all rational thought.