Kirk's breath shot out sharply through his nose as his mouth overtook Spock's. With a low, guttural laugh creeping up his throat, the captain nudged Spock against the wall with deceptive gentleness. Only his kiss was violent, while he held Spock's shoulder in a light grip. With the bulkhead at his back, and the sink at his side, Spock was cornered, what little space left to him quickly invaded by the human's body.
Both human and Vulcan's skin were completely bare, and making fierce contact all over. Raw emotion crackled across the skin-to-skin barrier like electricity, and provided the fuel for their passion. It was during these times, when Spock was forced to be this receptive to Kirk's psyche, that he had to exercise the most mental control. Kirk's lust was to Spock a psychic wraith, a malevolent, devouring spirit that both terrified and inspired him; awakening his own violent desire.
A part of him wanted to hide in the deep recesses of his mind, while the other part took notes. It wouldn't be the first time Spock stole techniques from his superior officer. So he compromised: he divided his attention between Kirk and the message. This left him feeling bombarded on both sides, but he knew he had to keep Kirk's attention purely on their passion, and not on the schemes developing in his head. Kirk could not read his mind from their physical contact alone, no one could. But he didn't want to seem distant or distracted, either. Fortunately, he was used to dividing his mind in such a way.
He also wanted at least half of his awareness on Kirk, both to keep alert for danger, and to better complement the captain's lust. He was unaware of McCoy's disastrous attempt to apologize to Kirk, unaware of the quiet rage simmering in the back of Kirk's mind as a result. He hadn't the chance to speak to McCoy about it, and was of course loathe to mention it to Kirk now, in case things hadn't gone well. When his captain decided to mete out punishment, he always did it on his time, making the victim wait however long he chose before he crushed them.
However the interaction went down, Spock wanted to make up for any shortcomings on McCoy's part. And it wouldn't hurt, he thought, if this tryst left Kirk drained and tired. Hesitantly at first, Spock glided a hand up Kirk's tight, glistening shoulder, longer fingers clutching. As he felt Kirk shove a hand between his legs, Spock moved to accommodate him, his other arm wrapped around Kirk's waist for support. He moaned, a tantalizingly rich yet quiet sound, barely heard over Kirk's rough, quickened breathing, as Kirk rubbed a fingertip across the rim of his hole. Kirk's fingers were dry and vigorous, but not painful yet. Kirk let out a prideful laugh as he watched his first officer's face. Spock's struggle with his emotions seemed to Kirk like a form of self-bondage, and he wanted to see every instant of it. Spock was a silent, unmovable statue compared to the rest of his bed partners; it was powerful for Kirk to force this primal reaction out of him.
Spock's eyes drifted shut as a powerful, but calming, sense of pleasure weighed down on him. He sighed audibly through his open mouth as Kirk played with his asshole with two fingers now, rubbing, teasing. Dry but with the maddening promise of penetration. Kirk traced his tongue across Spock's throat, as quick and harsh as a knife, and then slowly kissed the side of his neck. Spock rested the back of his head against the wall and stroked Kirk's hip as he allowed himself to enjoy it.
Enjoyment was essential, actually, to keep Kirk occupied. Spock still had to plan out what he'd do when they were done. His PADD was right next to him on the counter, most likely in Kirk's plan sight, with the message from his counterpart still on it. Hidden, though not very well. He'd also not had the time to thoroughly hide the code in the transporter computer. He could only hope those audio signals seemed too much like random noise to Kirk. He still had no idea what he'd say if Kirk questioned him about it.
He thought also about Admiral Dorek and his vague threats. In all this time, Spock had not taken the young admiral's menace seriously. He was used to Dorek visiting the ship, usually with little to no notice, snooping around a bit, and then leaving fairly soon after. His brief presence enough to shake Spock up, but nothing he couldn't recover from. Perhaps because Dorek's visit this time was long, it weighed all the more on Spock. Spock had to eventually tell himself the Romulan was not worth this worry, at least not right now. He was sure the admiral was ignorant of anything important, anyway. He knew nothing of McCoy, nor was he as familiar with the layout of the ship as Spock. If Dorek tried anything against him, Spock just had to convincing himself for now that he would handle it. One nemesis at a time, he thought, turning his attention back on Kirk's lips at his ear.
He felt himself being stretched, with dry, strong finger invading his hole. Overtaken for a moment, Spock shuddered against Kirk and banged his knee accidentally against the wall as he tried spread his legs further. Showing teeth, Kirk gazed at him and slid his fingers out. He turned Spock and bent him over the counter with practiced deftness, and as he knew to do, Spock waited, quiet and receptive. He heard Kirk spit in his hands and grimaced into his arm. His skin shivered and he covered the mirror in front of his face with fog as Kirk smoothed his hands down Spock's back and hip.
Kirk held one hand firmly on Spock's hip as he gazed down at the tall, long man he had pinned beneath him. He lowered his head to kiss Spock's back as he gently rubbed his own cock. He sneaked a glance at their reflection and gasped softly as he teased Spock's hole with the head of his cock. From this vantage point, Spock watched him, studied his face and the vulnerability he revealed as pleasure overcame him. He winced and tensed as Kirk took the first thrust inside him, but still Spock watched Kirk through the mirror.
Spock reached back to touch Kirk, who took his hand and guided it to his hip. With a breathy moan, Kirk allowed Spock's fingers to grip him tightly and pull him deeper into himself. Communicating only through touch, Spock was able to direct the speed and intensity of Kirk's thrusts, and Kirk was happy to indulge.
Spock had by now dropped his face to the counter, eyes drooping closed and drool pooling at his mouth. He could no longer see Kirk's face, but the information he got from Kirk's skin and the noises he made told Spock enough. For now, at least, his captain was in good spirits, almost free from his usual anxieties. Spock hoped that would help keep Kirk calm and manageable later. He noticed how Kirk fucked him intensely, deeply, but slowly. He was taking his time, and seemed to be more focused on his own pleasure than on his need to dominate. Spock kept himself as loose and pliable as possible, and made sure not to claw at Kirk's hip too harshly. He was dead-set to use this as an opportunity to control Kirk, however weakly. Kirk was a man of strength, in both body and mind, but he was still just a man. A human one, at that. Spock knew how devastating a good orgasm could be for Kirk. He was useless for several minutes after, the draining effects sometimes lasting for hours.
Spock was usually quiet, but he allowed himself some heartfelt moans here and there, and let his face reveal, if Kirk happened to look down, how close to climax he was himself. His breathing was heavy but controlled, every breath vocalized desire. He let Kirk grasp his hand and move it back onto the counter; their fingers remained interlocked as Kirk lowered his body almost completely down on Spock's. He held onto the counter with his other hand for balance as he thrusted several more times, faster and faster, until he slammed in once more with a broken shout. Kirk's ragged breathing sounded like whimpers. He shakingly slid his cock out and slunk his body off Spock, his fingers dragging softly across the Vulcan's sweat dampened back.
Kirk moved a few steps to the side to splash water on his face, and Spock took his time moving to lean against the wall facing him. He carefully studied Kirk's movements and breathing and felt confident the man was exhausted. With water dribbling down his face, Kirk turned to gaze at Spock, his eyes flicking to the PADD on the counter alertly. Spock didn't react or try to grab it, so Kirk ignored it for now. His face eased into a genuine smile as he walked back into the bedroom. Spock followed.
In serene silence they slipped beneath the covers of Kirk's bed and slid into each other. Kirk grabbed Spock's shoulder and kissed him urgently, but Spock did not feel threatened. In fact he could feel the strong, needy feelings in the human, though he didn't need to be a telepath to feel the longing in Kirk's desperate kiss. Spock encouraged Kirk by kissing him back, passionately but with restraint. He still wanted Kirk to feel in control.
Sensing Kirk needed to feel it, Spock wrapped an arm around Kirk's body and held him tightly as the kiss grew more fervent. Kirk was the first to pull away, out of breath and heart racing. With Spock's arm still draped over him, Kirk rolled onto his back and broke into a satisfied smile and wiped at the sweat on his brow. Spock was still hard, but as far as Kirk was concerned, they were finished. Spock had no problem with that, only caring about what happened directly after this.
They lay together, Spock draped over his captain, their breath intermingled, for several minutes. Spock listened to Kirk's breathing; just when he seemed asleep, Kirk said into the darkness, "We need to talk about McCoy."
Spock froze, his eyes wide and alert in the dark room. "Has he done something wrong, Sir?" Spock asked quietly.
There was a pause before Kirk answered. He simply gazed at Spock gently and stroked the shell of his ear. His brow furrowed for just a split second as he said, "I'm...concerned about him." He glanced at Spock's eyes, and seemed to be carefully choosing his words. "Very concerned. I'm wondering if you did something to him to make him like this."
"Like what, Sir?" Spock asked. He shivered, but with enjoyment, as Kirk stroked down his back.
Kirk's eyes darkened. "I can't put my finger on it, Spock. Whatever it is, I don't like it. It's like he's on some kind of downward spiral, as if he's trying to destroy himself. The way he's been acting lately...well I'm just at a loss. I don't feel I can trust him on an away team. In fact I don't even want him in Sick Bay anymore."
Spock listened as casually as he could. It helped that Kirk was still in such a languid, dreamy mood. Spock kept himself calm and nestled closer to Kirk in the bed, ruffling his beard against the human's chest. He felt Kirk's other arm envelop him, like a closing trap. "Yes, I, too have noticed a peculiar...discord with the doctor," Spock replied softly, as his mind raced. Where was Kirk going with this, he wondered. And whatever it was, could Spock talk him out of it? "He has been especially tempestuous with me lately." Spock hesitated, but decided to add, "He nearly killed me today."
Kirk smirked at him. "Oh?"
"Indeed. A knife to the side, in my own bed." He sighed for dramatic effect. "I must have offended him with that cuff more than I had anticipated."
"No one can rebel forever," Kirk said, as if to console Spock. But Spock only felt a cold panic at that. "He's probably just overwhelmed. Sick Bay's such a madhouse as it is, but it's even worse with these inspections going on."
Kirk paused, if to prompt Spock to reply. But Spock remained silent, fearfully awaiting Kirk to get to the point.
"Is M'Benga still in critical?" Kirk asked with a false innocence.
Spock fought to keep the worry about of his voice. "Yes, Sir, but I'm afraid he will not recover 100%." He swallowed. "Brain damage."
Kirk made a dismissive expression. "Hmmm. Oh well. He's a fine doctor, but he has no ambition, no fire. Not like Chapel."
Spock felt sick. He argued weakly, "She has yet to earn her MD..."
"Then I'll give her one," Kirk said. His tone was still light, teasing, but his eyes conveyed the decision had already been made. He chuckled lightly as he sat up in bed, and pulled Spock close. "She knows everything the other two do. And considering the, well...the state of the other two..." Kirk made a face and shrugged.
"Is this to be a permanent position, then?" Spock could not look Kirk in the face. He could only gaze into the darkness of the stateroom and remember the wisdom of his mentor. He breathed the way he'd been taught, slowing down his heart rate and breathing. He reminded himself that no enemy could possibly triumph over him unless he allowed it to happen. The fear and rage he felt right now were no more than Kirk's own weapons, he told himself. Kirk had power, yes. He had Romulan supporters, he had a large crew that was (mostly) loyal to him. But Spock had the Teachings. The truths he'd come to understand were far bigger than himself and this ship. They were bigger than the Empire, and no matter how much the Romulans destroyed and stole, they would eventually lose. Just one enlightened mind was enough to take down an entire empire, especially one as barbaric as this. He would not let this human rattle him.
"As long as she's worthy of the job," Kirk replied. Slipping his fingers beneath Spock's jaw, he made him look at him. "M'Benga will be working alongside her, if his mind is strong enough."
Spock's lips tightened as he waited for Kirk to say what he planned for McCoy. He just gazed at him in irritating silence, so Spock asked, too urgently, "And Leonard?"
"He's done, Spock. Everyone has their limit. I can't have him collapsing on the bridge like the last CMO." Kirk gave Spock a caress behind the ear and a lusty smile before climbing out of bed.
Spock was silent as Kirk went to the bathroom to clean up. Water gushed, Kirk's soft humming diffused through the room as Spock thought fiercely about this. This could prove better for McCoy, he thought. He would be spared the drama of Sick Bay, at least, kept safe from Chapel and others who had reason to kill him. That was a relief, but a tentative one. He thought of Janice.
Kirk was now buzzing with energy as he went around the room picking up his various uniform items. He even picked up Spock's things and set them on the bed near him, giving him an expectant look. Spock went through the motions of getting dressed, eyes glazed as his mind turned over this problem.
Half dressed, Kirk sat on the bed and looked at Spock. "Do you still want him?" he asked with all seriousness, placing McCoy's life in Spock's hands at that moment.
Spock didn't try to hide the look on his face when he answered, "Yes."
Kirk regarded him a moment, aloof and distant. He breathed calmly through the nose. He looked away to pull on his shirt and stood up, going to the vanity. He was fully aware of Spock's urgent, waiting gaze, and just bathed in it for a while. Only until he'd affixed the last pin on his vest did he condescend to answer. He walked back over to Spock and said coldly, "Then you'd better fix whatever's wrong with him, Spock. I don't want to have to take him from you."
Spock gave him a cold glare. "Aye, Sir," he answered softly. "Thank you, Sir." They shared a heavy silence for a moment.
Kirk finally broke the gaze first. Spock got up as Kirk went to the door. "Why don't you go break the news to McCoy," he said as they walked out, the door zipping shut behind them. It locked automatically. "While I take a look at the transporter controls."
Spock controlled his rising panic. He had already left his PADD in Kirk's quarters, having found no opportunity to sneak into the bathroom and hide it. At least he did not need that one in particular to investigate the code himself; the raw data was all in the transporter computer. He tried to convince himself that Kirk couldn't possibly learn anything from that data. He didn't know about the switch, there was no way he could suspect, no way the signals themselves could give that away...he hoped.
"Very well, Sir," Spock answered with perfect calm, almost levity. "Effective immediately, I take it?"
"Yes, of course," Kirk said dismissively as they neared the turbolift. Kirk paused by it before boarding. "Give him an easy night, Spock. Make this as painless as possible for him. I want him back to his old self before I see him again. I'm reaching the end of my patience."
"I'm sure this will help, Sir."
Kirk nodded sharply and entered the turbolift, with Spock waiting just outside for any last minute orders. "For his sake, you better hope so." The doors closed. As Kirk zipped down to the transporter bay, Spock headed for McCoy's quarters.
He ignored everyone he passed, focused only on reaching McCoy's door. As it loomed in sight just ahead, a lone figure strolled around the corner, and the sight of him forced Spock to halt. He deliberately waited a moment before saluting the man with cold formality. "Admiral," he said with a slight nod.
"Commander," Dorek returned, sweetness in his voice. "Have you seen the Captain, by any chance?"
"Yes, Sir," Spoke replied stiffly. "He should still be on the bridge."
"Ah, wonderful," said Dorek. "Goodnight, Spock." He waved his hand like flicking garbage off his shoulder. Spock waited until the admiral disappeared around a corner before going to McCoy's door.
His insides twisted with a sudden anxiety. He didn't even care that he'd just lied to a fleet admiral. Something had told him Dorek's intentions were not to be trusted. He couldn't control how often Dorek met with Kirk, or what he said, or what he did. He also couldn't stop the admiral from conducting his own inspection of the transporter room. He probably made things worse for himself with that little deception, but he felt it would be worse if Dorek happened upon Kirk while he was poking around with those controls. Spock wanted to try to send a message back, and he certainly couldn't do that if Dorek decided the controls were malfunctioning and ordered the transporter computer out of commission for repairs.
Spock pressed a button on the key pad and waited. He entered as soon as McCoy opened the door. "Come on in," McCoy said sarcastically, and shut the door behind them. He kept his distance.
Spock did not try to come closer or make himself comfortable in that room. He felt uncomfortable in this room as it was. Always so cold, so barren of decoration or a personal life. Small wonder, considering the McCoy he had lost spent more time in Sick Bay or someone else's quarters than his own. Spock suspected this one would follow suit. "The Captain has come to a decision about your...status here," he said abruptly.
McCoy paled, but said nothing. He just waited.
Spock hardened himself. The more time he spent with this man, the more he struggled. And the nightmare of it was, he couldn't quite identify the exact feelings, and why they churned like a storm within him. He misses you kept stabbing through his mind, hurting him ways he couldn't quite understand. He was baffled, angry, helpless. Now more than ever he yearned for another Vulcan to confide in, someone who could make sense of these torturous feelings and give him a straight answer. He trusted his Vulcan posse to protect him if he were attacked, or to avenge his death if he were murdered. But he could not trust them with this.
"You are no longer the chief medical officer of this ship," he said at last.
McCoy's shoulders rose and fell as he breathed. His gaze was intense. "And what does that mean for me?" he asked in a whisper.
"You are now simply my slave," he said flatly. "You no longer have to report for duty or stand watch, unless I need you to."
"So then what will I be doing all day?" McCoy asked with narrowed eyes.
Spock glanced away from McCoy's stare. "While I'm on duty, you have my permission to pursue any-"
"Whose idea was this?" McCoy snarled. "And why?" But McCoy already knew. This could only be because of what happened between him and Kirk, he was sure of it.
Spock sighed. "Only the Captain can make something like this happen, Doctor."
McCoy shot him a hateful look and stormed over to the bed. He sat with his arms crossed, his baleful eyes staring daggers into the bulkhead. "No, I did this," he muttered.
"Explain," Spock demanded as he stepped closer to him.
McCoy sighed. Not looking at Spock, he said tightly, "I managed to piss him off again. And bad."
"Yes," Spock reluctantly agreed. "He would not share specifics, but he was very...concerned. He is growing suspicious."
McCoy dropped his head in his hands, his slender body rising and falling with heavy breathing. Spock sat on the bed next to him, but didn't touch him. He heard McCoy hiss, "Idiot..."
"That is not fair of you to say, Leonard," Spock said. "Whatever you did, I am sure you didn't intend-"
"You!" McCoy shouted, lifting his head in a sudden fury. "I mean you!"
Spock frowned deeply, some color coming to his cheeks. "Indeed?"
"Taking me without even stopping to think about the blasted consequences!" He jutted himself closer to Spock. Spock could not mistaken the violent gleam in the human's eye. "Did you think at all, Spock?" he spat. "Did you?!"
Spock glared at him. "I will agree that my decision was perhaps...reckless. But I didn't have much time to make it. No matter how strictly one plans something, there will always be unexpected variables, Leonard."
When McCoy began to smirk, his head nodded gently in sarcastic agreement, Spock felt a stab at his heart. When McCoy stared at him like that, the expression was so familiar, Spock felt he was being haunted by the other one. As if the universes were merging just long enough for his own Doctor McCoy to gaze across the void at him with accusation.
If that McCoy really did miss him, the feeling was mutual. All these unforeseen problems and dangers made Spock feel like his brilliant plan was blowing up in his face. He was no longer so confident that he could control this man. At least the other McCoy had a genuine lust for Spock, a true desire for a physicality, when they weren't feuding too bad. But this one...he was so cold to him. This one's hatred for him eclipsed whatever attraction he might have had, it seemed. It would seem now that Spock had less than what he started with.
"I want off this ship," McCoy interrupted his thoughts.
Spock looked at him. He could understand that, certainly. And a part of him wanted to help him achieve it. But he was not willing to lose him. He didn't care how long it took, or what he had to do, he would have McCoy for his own, he would make McCoy realize his love for him. That belligerent, intriguing, maddening human was all he had left that could be fully his own. At that moment, it didn't matter to Spock which one he had. He just had to have him.
"There is no way Kirk would allow that," Spock said. "You'd find yourself in trouble within days, anyway."
"Can't be any worse than this hell."
"You would be alone," Spock countered.
"Already am," McCoy retorted.
That angered Spock. He felt he'd been doing nothing the past few days but help this man. He could understand if the human thought his methods cruel; they were meant to be. He had to be broken for Spock to build him back up. And all the trouble he was causing himself just to keep McCoy safe. It infuriated him that all that meant nothing to the human.
He calmed himself, overcoming the desire to yell at him or worse. "You don't have to be," he said.
"Oh right," McCoy snarled, gesturing with his arms. "Because I've got you, right? Let me just do a quick memory dump, then. And forget that you're the cause of all this!"
Spock deflated and glanced away. He was still for so long McCoy writhed with anxiety, half expecting another brutal assault. But instead Spock turned to look at him with eyes so soft, it knocked the human off guard. Spock gazed at him with this curious expression a moment, shaking his head slightly. "I was wrong to take you, Leonard," he said gently, but with no trace of remorse. More like stating an unfortunate truth. "I knew it at the time, I know it now. Especially now."
McCoy glared back at him with tears welling in his eyes. When he blinked, they spilled down his marked face. He didn't care. "Are you expecting me to forgive you?" he forced out.
"Yes," Spock said with disarming honesty. "Because that is how you are. You forgive. You care, you...love."
McCoy nodded, a smug but miserable smirk on his face. "Everything you're incapable of."
Spock gripped the bed sheet with one fist and stared at him. "How dare you say that," he said quietly.
The Vulcan's steady, angry gaze terrified McCoy, but he pressed anyway. "I've seen your mind, Spock. An android has more compassion than you. Hell, I feel sorry for you! You can't love. You're incapable of it."
"You are wrong," Spock replied, his chest beginning to heave. "And if you truly saw even the beginnings of my mind-"
McCoy came closer to him with a sudden furious energy, and seized his hands. "Then show me," he demanded.
Spock tensed, resisted, but he did not pull away. Of course McCoy's physical strength was no match for Spock's, especially at the moment, but he did not wish to be released. Already he could feel the connection forming between them from their contact. Nothing close to a mind meld, but it was still significant to Spock, especially since he felt it was so much easier to connect in this way with McCoy than with anyone else. The moment their skin touched, a shadow of the human's presence alit in Spock's psyche.
"Don't blame me if this hurts you," Spock growled, and moved to sit more comfortably, facing him, yanking his hands free in the process. "For what it's worth, I will try to minimize your pain."
"I'm used to it," McCoy said dryly, and grabbed Spock's hands again. "Just get this over with."
Spock allowed McCoy to guide his hands to the contact points on his head, his fingers falling into place as if there had been grooves cut into the human's skull just for that purpose. By now, he was used to this cranium's shape, whatever universe it was from. He closed his eyes as the familiar words came out like a chant, "My mind to your mind..."
He'd insisted on this, indeed, but McCoy was afraid to connect with Spock's mind again. He'd never felt as trapped and hopeless as when Spock had forced that experience onto him. He panicked silently at the thought of giving this man the power over his breath, his body, his every sensation.
His senses heightened as the meld began. At first he thought he was just seeing details around his quarters, but as the images congealed, he realized he was in a completely different place. Not physically, and he could not control his own movements in this dream-like place. He was viewing whatever world he was on through another eye's, he realized. He could not move those eyes, he could not speak, but he could feel a hot breeze biting the skin at his arm, and the aroma of something cooking was so vivid, he felt hunger.
He was there only a moment, before the surroundings changed again. He was now in a home, overwhelmed by the staggering amount of details, each just as vivid and demanding of his attention as the next. McCoy could only look at something as long as his host body chose to, forcing McCoy to make sense of a whirlwind of images out of context. Spock offered no explanation for anything he saw, but he didn't need to. Soon enough, McCoy saw coming towards him a young Amanda Grayson, her smile filling his field of vision as he came closer. When she hugged the boy McCoy was looking through, he could not feel her arms so much as her warmth. It made him smile softly.
Abruptly, the memory dissolved into another one, this time with Sarek as well. Many, many short memories flooded through the meld's barrier, and McCoy, in effect, lived countless moments as Spock throughout his early years. Not all were pleasant; McCoy got to witness quite a few shouting matches between a young Spock and his father, shockingly cruel barbs from both sides. McCoy could experience everything Spock remembered as viscerally as if it were happening to him, yet he also had a sense of being detached from these memories. Perhaps because they were delivered out of order, no explanations, no apologies.
Spock did save a special one for last, though. Contrasting harshly against a string of happier memories, the last one found Spock, taller now, standing in the dark, faced off against his father. He heard no words either shouted and snarled at each other; instead strong emotions of anger, hopelessness, even violent urges, accompanied the images. This time it was impossible for McCoy to separate his own awareness from the young Spock's experience. He had no idea what the fight was about, but within seconds, he was in tears. It wasn't just anger he felt emanating from both Vulcans, but heartbreak, and the longing to do something, anything, to fix it.
Unable to look away or even blink, McCoy was forced to watch this scene play out until Spock finally turned away from Sarek and his eyes were filled with inky darkness. McCoy felt Spock's presence in his mind, and felt himself relax. Carefully Spock inched his mind from McCoy's and waited silently for McCoy to recover.
McCoy blinked harshly as the ambient light of his quarters filled his awareness. He was guarded with his feelings on this. He didn't think this was just a ploy for sympathy, it was just to prove a point. Well, he believed Spock had made his point. He was sure that Spock was not looking for any sort of pity, either. Just understanding. He did understand. But he didn't know how to feel.
He rubbed his face with both hands as Spock sat silent beside him. It took a while to detach from the lingering snatches of Spock's memories in his mind. It was nauseating, to go back and forth from passionate anger to familial love and back within seconds. McCoy finally lifted his head to look at him. "You have to put things right, Spock. You win, you've made your point. I can see now you're just as stubborn and damaged as my Spock." He paused, challenging Spock to argue with his word choice. He did not, so McCoy went on, "If there's still anything of that young man left in you, Spock, you can't let this go on. You can't...you can't do that to me."
Spock slid off the bed and paced slowly beside it. "I am capable of far worse, Leonard," Spock replied, but without any malice. It was a simple fact. He shot him a glance. "But I do not take pleasure in it."
"You sure like the control," McCoy said, and almost regretting it, considering the sharp look Spock gave him.
"I should regale you with some of your counterpart's exploits some time," he retorted, and McCoy let out a bark of a laugh. They lapsed into a heavy silence. "I still do not know how," he said after a while. He waited, giving McCoy time to absorb this. He reacted only slightly, but that was enough. Then Spock said, "But I think I can send a message across the barrier."
At this McCoy looked up. He was too excited to think about hiding the hope in his eyes. "What?" he demanded. "How? Have you tried already?"
"No, but my counterpart has," he said, and was unable to resist cracking into a small grin at McCoy's blatant amazement.
"What did he say?"
"He said, 'he misses you.'"
McCoy demanded, "Who's 'he' and who's 'you'? Are you sure it was from Spock?"
Spock frowned in irritation. "Whoever it was sent the message in my father's dialect," he countered.
McCoy grunted a half-way agreement, and immediately dismissed it. The message itself wasn't terribly important, he thought. What mattered was there was contact. The impossible was now done. He thought about this a moment and asked Spock, "Well? Have you sent a reply yet?"
"I haven't had the chance. And...I'm not entirely sure how."
Spock got a sharp glance from McCoy. "Well, do you think you can figure it out?" he asked with impatience.
"Yes," Spock answered in a subdued tone, glancing at the floor thoughtfully. "If I had the luxury of time, free access to the transporter computer, and freedom from prying eyes, then of course."
"What about me?" McCoy offered. "Let me go down there-"
"You wouldn't know what to look for," Spock dismissed.
"Well then what can I do, Spock?" he asked, exasperated. "I'm going to have a lot of time off these days. And free run of the ship, I'd say. Send me out for me things, have me spy for you, come on! Anything!"
"The most important thing you can do right now, Doctor, is uphold your facade. The Captain is in particular obsessed with finding out's what's 'wrong' with you." Spock paused to sneer, though McCoy wasn't sure for whom it was intended. "He can tell you're not 'yourself.'"
McCoy glared at him. "All I'm doing is what you tell me to, Spock!" he snapped, especially perturbed by a vivid flashback of his last time with Kirk. He pushed the images away, but the feeling of cold dread lingered long after. "I just can't win with that man! I bet if I did start acting more like what everyone expects of me, he'd have something to say about that too!"
"Yes, I realize that," Spock begrudgingly agreed. "It would be ideal if you didn't encounter him again."
"And if he asks for me?" the human's voice was flat, quiet.
Spock looked at him, and McCoy could not detect what he was feeling. He almost walked over to him and touched him for a better guess, but he liked his spot: a safe distance from the Vulcan in case this conversation turned ugly. Finally, Spock said, "I had honestly expected a better result the last two times." Before McCoy could retort in outrage, he added, "For you, I mean. I had hoped that if you showed him a willingness to surrender, he would not be so compelled to force you. I still don't understand..." He trailed off and looked at him. "What exactly happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it," McCoy said, with a hard, warning look in his eye. "Suffice to say, due to some misunderstanding, I've apparently offended him. He told me to stay out of his sight for a while." He bit his lip. "You didn't answer the question."
"I think you already know the answer," said Spock flatly.
"No," McCoy trembled, and stood up. "I can't go through that again, I won't!"
By now Spock was sitting on the bed, hands in his lap, and McCoy was standing in front of him, a few steps back. Spock gazed up at the human with an expression McCoy was tempted to call a patronizing sort of pity, and he beckoned McCoy closer. When McCoy hesitated, he said gently, "Come here, Leonard. Please."
It wasn't the gentle tone or the entreating eyes that lured McCoy closer, but the fear of angering Spock. He seemed to be, finally, reaching some common ground with him, but he worried what might happen if he let down his guard too much. Grimly he sat on the bed beside him, Spock half guiding, half pulling him extremely close. McCoy shrank back as Spock embraced him.
"Don't hurt me," McCoy whispered. He drew his hands up to cautiously hug him back.
"Not this time," Spock replied, and McCoy wasn't sure if that was meant to be comforting or not. He didn't have time to think about it; Spock pulled him by the chin into a slow devouring kiss.
McCoy was tense all over. The wounds and cuts he was forced to retain on his skin burned under Spock's stroking hands. He caressed across the back of McCoy's neck, his other hand gentle at his back. A tingling, overwhelmingly pleasant sensation lit up under Spock's fingertips, and for a moment he succumbed to the intense euphoria Spock was sending him. He shook himself alert. "I don't..." he mumbled. "...don't think this is a particularly good time..."
Spock clutched him closer when he felt resistance in McCoy. He focused harder on keeping his mind serene and receptive to the slightest pleasure. His eyes drifted closed as he enjoyed the pleasant sensation of the human's warm skin brushed against his fingertips. In seconds, McCoy's body relaxed in his arms, and he leaned into the stroking touches. He felt divine. But he knew that feeling was artificial, forced into his psyche by Spock. Spock kissed him and now stroked McCoy's skin beneath his shirt.
Spock pulled away just enough to study McCoy's face. They gazed into each other's eyes, but there was a hardness to their stare, each watching the other even as their bodies fitted so harmoniously together. Spock almost frowned as he carefully traced along the edges of the whip marks, while McCoy clutched at Spock's tunic. Spock laid his long fingers against the unmarked side of McCoy's face to make communication easier. Spock gazed at the long gash on the other side of the human's face with a far away expression.
Spock locked eyes with him once again. /I will help you/ He supplemented his words with a surge of raw emotions: joy, serenity, whatever Spock could shove into him. Whatever he believed he should feel.
/Why?/ McCoy asked silently. He was disturbed by the flood of emotion, especially by how difficult they were to dismiss. The human felt it was perhaps absurd to refuse feeling good, but he just couldn't stomach having it forced on him. He was reluctant to struggle too hard. He'd rather be force fed this bizarre fake pleasure than pain. /You'll lose me/
/You were an experiment that failed. I must move on/
The anger McCoy felt at that overpowered the false pleasure for a moment. Their link was nearly shattered by the force of it. Spock only gripped tighter, with both hands and mind, to keep him there. /I mean no offense. If you were truly willing you could be mine. You make me want him/
Spock stroked McCoy's face and suddenly his gaze was pained. The false emotions now flooded out of McCoy as inexorably as they'd entered, leaving the human drained and depressed. He found himself trying to cling to the last snatches of joy before it left completely. He stared hard back into Spock's eyes, his thoughts and emotions an angry riot in his head.
He tried to resist, but Spock kissed him deeply, slowly. McCoy felt a profound loneliness emanating from the man, though McCoy could easily believe it was coming from himself. He still was not eager to kiss Spock, but he did anyway because he felt Spock needed it. He gently kissed him back, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, soft at his back, the other resting on Spock's chest. He closed his eyes and let himself take control of the kiss; Spock seemed grateful to surrender just this once.
McCoy did not try to imagine this was his own Spock, though he now had reason to hope he would, in fact, see him again. No, he was kissing this one, the one that had stolen him, violated him, nearly destroyed him. For a while, McCoy had believed he'd already been broken. Now he knew he was not. He was not yet ready to forgive this Spock. He still not fully trust him. But he could be better than what his other self had become in this place. He could show Spock that he could be better.
McCoy lowered onto his back as Spock moved on the bed. Though Spock loomed over him, on his hands and knees, McCoy refused to be intimidated. They shared a hard, fiery look before McCoy grabbed a fistful of Spock's tunic and pulled him down.
/
On his way to the bridge, Dorek met up with some of his entourage. There was no saluting or formal back and forths; they immediately went to business. The four Romulans walked closely together down the empty corridor. They had no destination, just wanted to look somewhat normal if a crew member happened by.
"Well?" Dorek snapped at no one in particular. "Any names, yet?"
One of them thrust a data PADD into his waiting hands, and he scanned the entry. "Just one?" he asked, throwing the other sharp glare. "What about the other seven?"
"We have not identified them yet, Sir," said another. "We're working as quick-"
Dorek cut her off. "Well, it's not quick enough! I need each one accounted for before we can make any moves."
"Don't worry about them, Admiral," the woman said with bitter eyes. "The Vulcans will reveal themselves as soon as they try anything."
"Are you willing to risk your life on that, Qellar?" he snarled, shoving the PADD into her hand.
"Of course I am," she all but snarled back. "And I have no doubts we'll come out of this victorious. As always. Why, Admiral? Are you having second thoughts?" she sneered, a cold glint in her eye. She had at least twenty years on the admiral, and had more legal qualifications for his very position.
Dorek gave her a look that made her reconsider her outburst, but he let it pass. "We are not keeping to the plan," he said coldly, addressing the other three at once. "It's not my life I fear for, but the Grand Admiral's reputation. She will be mortified if we fail again."
"What if we can't find them all in time?" asked someone else.
"That won't matter if still don't have anything solid on Spock," said Qellar. She locked eyes with Dorek. He let her speak. "If we could find his goons, get some confessions out of them, we can at least go for a conspiracy charge. Mutiny."
"The Vulcans are yours, then, Qellar," Dorek said. "You will devote all your attention and resources to rooting them out. Try to keep them alive. All of them."
She grinned coldly. "Yes, Sir."
"As for you," he turned his steely gaze on the other two. "You keep an eye on Kirk and Spock. Monitor, and log, their every movements, everything they say, everyone they see. We can't rely on listening devices...someone keeps finding them. You will just have to follow and listen yourselves." His eyes widened as he added vehemently, "WithOUT getting caught. I'll kill you myself if you're found out."
"Yes, Sir," they said fearfully.
"Go," he growled, and turned away from them. He stood still in the passageway a moment and thought carefully about the situation. He was not disheartened by this news, just all the more determined to find something, anything, that he could use against Spock. What frustrated him was that he was certain he'd find all the damning evidence he'd need to concoct any story he wanted, if he could only search their quarters. He hadn't noticed anything in Spock's, but Spock had kicked him out before he had a chance to find anything.
He got in the turbolift and nearly wrenched the lever off the bulkhead. Face set in cold stone, he stared directly ahead and seethed. When he emerged from the lift, however, he transformed himself back into the more cheerful version of himself he knew the crew expected. It wasn't too difficult; he loved feeling like he was wanted, enjoyed, admired. And despite how higher ranking officers thought of him, he had plenty of admirers on the ship as it was.
His smile evaporated when he spotted an unfamiliar officer in the Captain's chair. He was aware it was night, Enterprise time, but Spock had just told him that Kirk was on the bridge. That couldn't have been more than ten minutes ago, so where was he? He could have snapped a neck in rage, but he fought it down. He could not lose his temper in front of these people. He turned his head in the general direction of Lt. Uhura and others at their stations. "Where's the Captain?" he asked.
"He's off, Sir," Uhura said. She gave him her attention politely, but she was not about to speculate on her captain's whereabouts on his time off. Not even to the admiral. She turned back to her controls.
Dorek indulged in a hateful stare for just a moment, and then affixed a soft smile to his face. "Ahh. I see. How long ago did he leave the bridge?"
"Two hours and..." she double checked the chronometer. "Four minutes, Sir."
The acting bridge officer turned the chair around to better face Dorek. "Anything I can help you with, Sir? I'm acting Captain. Next few hours, anyway."
"No, thank you, Commander," Dorek replied with a dismissive gesture. He turned his back on the officer and said to Uhura, "Tell him I'm looking for him, if you see him..." he paused to check Uhura's shirt cuff. "...Lieutenant."
Uhura replied in the affirmative as Dorek swept across the bridge, back into the turbolift. Once the door whooshed shut, Dorek gnashed his teeth and balled up his fists. With great effort he stopped himself from punching the bulkhead. He didn't want to have to explain the dents in the metal. He was able to calm down by the time he exited the lift, but he was beside himself with welling anger. Spock had lied, he was sure of it. Either that or Spock had somehow lost track of two hours and four minutes of time. He couldn't do anything with this by itself; the discrepancy just made Spock seem all the more suspicious. He wondered if Spock were covering up for Kirk for some reason.
It was late. He'd been awake since early that morning, and had covered a considerable distance of the ship for his inspections. Putting up with the mindless chatter of the mostly human officers was exhausting in itself. He hunted down the corridors, fueled by his mission. Senses alert, he even tried to sniff out scents that might help him. By now, Dorek knew Kirk's scent.
Wether it was smell or just a gut feeling, Dorek strode through the corridors by the transporter room. He passed it, and then came back. He only had a hunch, but he decided to enter. He burst into a grin when he saw the captain at the controls.
Kirk looked up and smiled. He didn't salute the admiral, as if his warmth were enough. Dorek didn't mind. He came closer with genuine interest to the controls. "Can't sleep?" he asked, lifting his gaze to Kirk.
"Look like you can't, either," Kirk replied, and Dorek took note of his relaxed tone and manner. He didn't seem to be hiding anything, he thought. Not right at that moment, anyway. "Anything I can help you with?"
Dorek was not prepared with an answer. Still unsure as to Kirk's true loyalties, Dorek could not risk revealing his suspicious of Spock. He knew how loyal Kirk was to Spock, or perhaps protective was the better word. He'd have to trick Kirk into incriminating Spock. Not that Dorek minded, but it meant having to play this back and forth game with Kirk, always supremely careful of what he said, always trying to read between Kirk's lines.
He must have looked quite out of it, because Kirk slapped his shoulder and laughed. "You need some r 'n r, Admiral! What are you doing up so late?" Dorek looked up to meet Kirk's eyes. They were hard, piercing, but his smile was warm.
"Looking for you, actually," said Dorek.
At this, Kirk stepped around the console panel to stand closer to Dorek, to give him his full attention, with one arm half draped over the top of the monitor beside him. Spread out like this was some kind of lounge, Dorek noticed, but not with any judgment. This casualness was refreshing after a full day of fearful officers who constantly checked their words before speaking them. Kirk made a gesture. "Here I am," he said playfully.
Dorek gave him small, but warm smile and said, "How fortunate for me. I wanted to discuss something with you." At Kirk's expectant glance, he continued, "I want to begin my inspections of the ship's computer systems tomorrow." He turned away from Kirk's gaze, but felt it on him as he strolled over to the transporter pads. He looked around the room as if ready to purchase it. His look was not lost on Kirk. "I'd like to start with the Medical computer systems first, then onto the science station, possibly the transporter computers as well. It might take all day." He headed back towards the captain. "I don't want to be in your way..."
"Of course not," Kirk quipped. "The bridge is big enough. Just give me plenty of notice before you hog one of my computer systems, will you?"
Dorek met his gaze and held it a while before answering. Kirk didn't seem to mind him staring back at him without speaking. Dorek kept his expression soft and open, as he studied Kirk intently. Unless he was mistaken, he was getting a certain vibe off Kirk. One he could use.
He went back around the transporter controls and scanned his languid gaze over the instrument panel, fingers of one hand lightly touching a few toggles. "When would be the best time for me to inspect your science station?" he asked, testing. "The process takes a few hours...I wouldn't want to keep Commander Spock waiting too long."
Kirk crossed his arms and nodded, a little too exaggerated. "Yes, that complicates things," he said. "We'd have to consider the crew's schedules. You said you need to work on the transporter, as well?"
"Yes, Captain."
Kirk's eyes narrowed minutely. He didn't want Dorek's technicians rifling around that computer until he had a chance to inspect it himself. Kirk hadn't found anything so far, and even stranger, couldn't even locate the faulty diagnostic anymore, as if it had been deleted. It didn't take long, but Kirk carefully considered his answer, trying to think a few steps ahead of the admiral. "The morning's no good for that. Engineering wants to train some new officers on the transporter controls."
"Then...perhaps I will start on the science station in the morning?" Dorek asked. He could care less when they did what; he just wanted to know when to expect Spock to be out of his quarters.
Kirk frowned as if trying to figure this out, and then made a dismissive sound. "We can't make that decision without a crew schedule," Kirk said. "If you've got nowhere to be, Admiral, we can go get it."
Dorek couldn't believe the harsh intensity in Kirk's eyes. How could he look stare like that and yet have such approachable softness in his voice? Dorek hesitated. He did not want to make a fool of himself by assuming the wrong thing, but he didn't want to let a very special opportunity slip by him, either. Having Kirk on his side could be very helpful. Dorek turned a piercing gaze onto Kirk, who took it unflinchingly. "Where is it?" he asked.
"My cabin."
Dorek pretended to consider this, as if he had pressing engagements elsewhere at 11 or so at night. Finally, he pushed off the console and headed toward the door. Walking past Kirk, he said, "Guide the way, Captain."
"Very well." Kirk strode ahead of Dorek, who had to walk briskly to keep up. He was not used to his inferior officers walking ahead of him like this, as if he were just some other crew member. It was disconcerting, but he didn't take offense. They rode up in comfortable silence, Kirk relaxed against the back wall of the lift, but he still looked like he was expecting some crew members to ambush him as soon as he got off the lift. Dorek recognized that searching, hunted look, but in Kirk it only made him look stronger. He lived among wolves, but he seemed to thrive off it.
Dorek allowed Kirk to step out first, part of him relishing this extra sense of protection. He had his own bodyguards, though he often roamed the ship alone. His rank made him untouchable, but he still felt vulnerable walking past spying Vulcan eyes. He liked having this bruiser of a man escorting him down these inherently dangerous halls.
Kirk noticed the admiral looking around his quarters once they entered, seemingly intrigued by everything. He felt suddenly nervous when the Romulan's face turn toward the Tantalus device, but if Dorek noticed anything strange, he didn't show it. He turned his eyes off that wall in particular and refocused on Kirk. "So! Let's see that schedule."
"Certainly," Kirk said agreeably, and with a cordial gesture, he invited Dorek to sit down at his desk. Kirk paused by the replicator. "Care for a drink?"
Gazing appreciatively at the various decorations around the cabin, Dorek answered lightly, "I'll have whatever you're having." There were a lot of shelves, he noticed. Cabinets, overhead storage compartments, shelves in the vanity. He wanted to search them all. He pretended he didn't notice Kirk coming over, but he could smell him from some distance away. It was not unpleasant.
He turned his head slightly in Kirk's direction as the human slid past him to sit down, scooting his chair close to him. At first there was some professional distance between them as Kirk put a PADD down and selected through the menu screens. When he found the schedule for the Science division, he slid the device over to Dorek to inspect, and then leaned over from his chair, as if he couldn't see from where he was. Dorek scrolled through some pages, registering nothing.
Holding the PADD in his hands, he seemed to be about to ask something, and then change his mind, his eyes glued to the device. From the corner of his eyes, he studied how Kirk reacted to him. Kirk did not ask him what he wanted to say, but he did catch his attention. Finally Dorek pointed to the small screen, eyes on Kirk, and asked, "Which department is this?"
"Oh, sorry about that," Kirk said with an easy laugh, and lifted his chair from the bottom to move it closer. Now they were close enough to study the little screen together, both facing the same way. Neither moved or adjusted in his seat, even though their legs touched beneath the table. Kirk seemed, or acted, too interested in the PADD to notice their proximity. "Here's Engineering," he said, and slowly scrolled through the schedule. He entered in some commands to split the screen: one half was the schedule, the other an empty space in which he could enter data. "Now, how long will you need the transporter room for?"
Dorek turned his face to address him; he found Kirk's unnervingly close. "Four hours," he said. He turned in his seat ever so slightly toward Kirk and looked directly into his eyes. "Three for the science station, another three for the computer systems in Sick Bay. Do you think we could accomplish all this in one day, Captain?"
Kirk gave him a smug look and took the PADD from Dorek's hands. "Of course we can," he said. "And please," he met the Romulan's eyes. "Call me James. We don't need any formalities here, after hours."
Dorek had a hand at his chin, as if in contemplation, but now he hid his mouth with it and studied Kirk fiercely a moment. While anyone else, captain or not, would have withered beneath that gaze, Kirk just gazed boldly back at him. Dorek finally decided he could not detect any disrespect in Kirk's tone or his body language. He put his hand down and turned his attention back to the PADD. "Now what about the Science division, James?" he asked. He saw the glint in Kirk's eye.
Kirk once again displayed reckless boldness by making Dorek wait for his answer until he'd taken a sip of his drink. He frowned and brought up the Science schedule. Dorek leaned over to better see the screen, and found Spock's name. He watched Kirk enter some figures onto the other half of the screen.
Dorek said casually, "It looks like Spock has the morning shift. I'll start with the Medical computers, then."
"Alright," Kirk said, and started punching in numbers. When he was done, he turned toward Dorek and showed him the schedule he'd created. "So, you'll start with Sick Bay at 0800. 1115, Science station. Break at 1415 till...let's give you a lunch here...alright, then you'll report to the transporter bay at 1500 hours, and you're done." He set the PADD down and looked at Dorek. "Sound like a plan?"
"It does," Dorek replied, his glass by his lips. He took a drink. Glass still raised, he flicked his gaze to Kirk, to find his eyes on him. He set his glass down and leaned back in his seat, sliding his bottom forward in the chair. He seemed caught off guard by a yawn and put his gloved hand over his mouth. "Forgive me, James," he said in a martyred tone. "It's been a tiring day."
"For us all," Kirk replied, and leaned forward, one elbow on the table. He draped his other arm along the back of Dorek's chair, hooking his thumb into a groove in the polymer material. He lowered his head in mock deference and added, "Nothing compared to your busy life, I'm sure."
Dorek barked a chuckle. Kirk's almost sarcastic tone when he sad these things was strangely amusing to the Romulan. If Dorek didn't genuinely like him, things would be turning out quite differently for Kirk right now. Resting his elbow on the arm rest, Dorek stared at Kirk through narrowed eyes, and idly rested his hand against his chin, his forefinger teasing his lips. "Oh, I don't mind the hard work, Captain." Kirk did not correct him, but he smiled at the Romulan's playful, almost mocking, tone. "It's the fact that I must waste so much time dealing with inferiors."
Kirk frowned as if offended, but then quickly broke into a laugh. "I assume you have a more...specific choice in company?"
Kirk's reaction startled Dorek, and he almost lost his stride. He couldn't believe how on edge he felt, just having a conversation with this man. But it was a pleasant sort of stress; it was exciting. "I could assume the same about you," he answered. Kirk answering chuckle was dark, low. Dorek had to control his breathing.
Kirk looked at Dorek with open lust, and a twinge of amusement at the corner of his lips, and Dorek's gazed back at him in a similar fashion. Kirk reached a bare arm over the table to slide the PADD away from them, as if signaling work was done. Because he was not suicidal, Kirk did not make the first move. Not on a fleet admiral. No, he'd wait for a signal of consent from Dorek first. He stared at him with obvious impatience.
Dorek hesitated, if only because he was not used to being devoured by another man's eyes like this. He could tell Kirk was waiting for him to do something, but he was unsure. As if understanding his hesitation, Kirk ghosted his finger and thumb over Dorek's chin and leaned forward, slowly at first. When he felt Dorek lean closer on his own volition, Kirk took that as the sign he needed, and immediately closed the distance. Dorek was tense, stiff, but he didn't try to stop this. Gradually, with Kirk's help, the kiss became more heartfelt and Dorek slid a hand up Kirk's shoulder.
Kirk abruptly slipped his arms around the Romulan's lower back and pulled him onto his lap. Startled, Dorek nearly stumbled, but Kirk's arms kept him upright. The pins on their respective uniforms clacked against each other as Kirk resumed the kiss. His kiss was so deep, so intrusive, Dorek felt he was struggling against him rather than kissing him. He fought the panic threatening to rise, and gasped for air as soon as he had the chance. He felt Kirk's hand at the back of his head, firm and unrelentingly pulling him back in. This time Kirk went for the Romulan's neck. Dorek breathed heavily.
Just as he started to succumb to pleasure, Dorek went on high alert as he felt the man's teeth brushing the skin. The kisses at his throat became more passionate; as Dorek clung to Kirk's shoulders, he felt the other's teeth bite down hard. Dorek allowed it the first time, but that only encouraged Kirk to be even rougher the second time, his arms squeezing around the Romulan's body.
"Captain!" Dorek exclaimed in alarm. Kirk immediately released his neck and looked at him. Chest heaving, eyes wild, Dorek stared down at him and said in a shocked whisper, "You're hurting me!"
Kirk's hard expression melted into a smile, and he reached a hand up to caress where he'd chomped. "Forgive me," he said with no trace of remorse. "I must have gotten carried away. I've never had someone so important in my arms before."
Dorek's eyes danced as he stared back at him, a grin spreading on his face. "You are forgiven," he teased. "But I don't like this position."
"No problem," said Kirk. He shocked Dorek once again by hooking his hands beneath Dorek's knees and stood up, lifting him. Dorek clutched at the captain's gold vest and fought down another surge of panic. Before Dorek could demand to be put down, Kirk practically slammed him back first on the unmade bed. Dorek clung to the fabric of Kirk's vest and stared up at him. "How's this?" Kirk asked.
Dorek opened his mouth to answer, but whatever he had to say was swallowed up by Kirk's demanding kiss. He began to relax beneath Kirk, though his kisses were rough and he just couldn't seem to resist sinking his teeth into various parts of him. Dorek permitted Kirk to be rough, even to the point of pain. He would allow this human to feel in control tonight, to feel he was more powerful, and congratulated himself; this had been even easier than he'd anticipated.
When they finished, he convinced Kirk to remain in bed and sleep, and promised him he would stay with him till morning. Clearly exhausted, Kirk gave him a gentle kiss and scooped him into his arms, Dorek's back to Kirk's front. Kirk fell asleep almost immediately, while Dorek remained wide-eyed and scheming for a while. He interlocked bare fingers through Kirk's and grinned. He liked this new plan.