Author: Jesmihr
Rating: NC-17
Challenge: This story was written for KiScon 2004. The words toy, cutthroat, and/or bucolic had to be used.
Disclaimer: The characters and the Star Trek series are the property of Paramount-Viacom. This is an amateur work of fan fiction written solely for pleasure, and not for profit.
Feedback: Gratefully received! theargentian@mfire.com

“It is said, Spock of Vulcan, that you are Kirk’s toy – that you follow his commands in the bedroom as well as on the bridge. Is this true?” Commander Haidux loomed over the first officer of the Enterprise, who was sprawled on the ground at the feet of the huge Mergan, his hands bound tightly behind his back.

Spock met Haidux’s leering gaze impassively and remained silent. Behind the jutting rock that concealed him from the small band of Mergans, Jim Kirk’s fingers fairly bit into the rough stone as his hazel eyes grew steely with anger.

“Nothing to say, Vulcan Whore?” Haidux’s lips twisted into the cruel grin of a born cutthroat as he studied the helpless Vulcan. “Lift him up,” he snapped at his men. “I want to look Kirk’s Toy in the face.” Two of the huge Mergans reached down to obey, hauling Spock to his feet effortlessly. As soon as he was upright, Haidux wound his thick fingers into Spock’s silky hair and pulled the Vulcan’s face close to his. “Perhaps he does this to you?” he sneered, and kissed Spock hard on the mouth.

Kirk saw Spock struggle unsuccessfully to move away from the unwelcome caress. The Mergans who held him merely tightened their grip and laughed as their leader deepened the kiss and pulled Spock closer to him before he finally drew away. Spock turned his face from his tormentor, allowing Kirk to see a shiny bead of green blood upon his bottom lip.

With a sharp intake of breath, the starship captain strove to reign in the fiery hatred that smoldered within his belly: it was imperative that he think, and think clearly. He began to turn the possibilities over in his head, searching desperately for a way to get Spock to safety. He had no communicator; it had been lost when he and Spock tried to flee the ambush. And the Enterprise was not due to try to check in with him for another hour, so he could expect no help there. He did have his phaser, but the Mergans were also armed and there were five of them. Even with the element of surprise in his favor, he wouldn’t be able to take them all out, not with Spock bound and unable to help him. If he killed Haidux – and his heart fairly leaped with fierce joy at the thought – Spock’s life would almost certainly be forfeit.

“Not unpleasant,” laughed Haidux, “but a bit uninspired. I think that Kirk must demand much more of his toy than that pathetic effort, yes?” He reached out and traced the outline of Spock’s mouth with deceptive gentleness, capturing the drop of blood upon his fingertip. The Mergan commander regarded the green droplet contemplatively for a moment and then with a wolfish grin, licked it off his finger with his long gray tongue. “Quite tasty,” he informed the others, who laughed again.

Haidux turned back to Spock. “I think, in fact, that I should like to taste more of you.” With swift precision, the Mergan drew his dagger from his belt.

Behind his rock, Kirk tensed, ready to spring.

Haidux grabbed the hem of Spock’s tunic and slid the dagger underneath. Abruptly he yanked the knife up, slashing the tunic apart in one rough motion. Unhurriedly, the Mergan sheathed his dagger and then shoved the torn material away from Spock’s shoulders, exposing the Vulcan’s lean, wiry torso and chest. He grabbed Spock’s chin in a brutal grasp, forcing the Vulcan’s sculpted face around until their eyes met. “Your brave captain escaped – fled back to his ship, no doubt,” he rasped. “Unfortunate. Unfair even, for my hatred is really for him, for what he did to my ship and my crew. But I’m sure he’ll return to reclaim his toy, as soon as he thinks it’s safe.” Haidux stroked Spock’s face thoughtfully and added, “And when he does, I intend to leave him something that he will remember forever.” He stepped closer.

Kirk fell back against the rock and scanned the bucolic landscape frantically for anything that might assist him in freeing Spock from the Mergans. There was nothing; nothing but rolling hills and jutting boulders, and one palm-sized stone that lay at his feet. Carefully, he stooped down and picked it up.

“I intend,” Haidux informed Spock, “to make you my toy, Vulcan Whore.” His huge hands moved down to the fastening of Spock’s pants. “And when your captain returns and sees how I have broken you – then he will taste the full bitterness of my hatred.” He wrenched at the fabric with both hands, rending it effortlessly.

A black bishop, propelled by slender fingers, slid diagonally across the chessboard until it nudged gently against the base of the white queen.

“Your game is off tonight,” Spock said softly, scooping up Kirk’s captive queen and displaying it in the palm of his hand. His eyebrow rose inquiringly. “Is something distracting you?”

Kirk scowled down at the board, unwilling to meet the Vulcan’s gaze. It had been a mistake to try to play tonight: he’d known from the start he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He reached out and jabbed at his king with his forefinger, toppling it over. It landed on the board with a clatter that sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet room. “Haidux,” he finally replied tersely, adding as an afterthought, “I concede.”

Spock studied the top of Kirk’s head in an ineffective attempt to discern the true source of the human’s disquiet. At last he said rather tentatively, “I see. It is indeed distressing to have to take a life. But… surely you realize that the only logical action that was left to you was to….”

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say.

“Logical!” Jim snorted. He sprang to his feet and began to prowl restlessly around the small confines of his quarters. “Wanting that bastard dead had nothing to do with logic.” He wheeled around and faced the perplexed Vulcan, his mercurial eyes blazing with fury. “And I’d do it again, a thousand times over, if I could. I don’t regret I killed him… that’s not it at all.”

The Vulcan regarded Kirk gravely. “I do not understand,” he finally admitted.

Kirk ran his hand through his hair and turned away, biting his lip. “No,” he said harshly. “You don’t.” He shrugged, with his back still to his first officer, and said, “You can’t – you’re a Vulcan.”

“Jim…”

Kirk shook his head. “Forget it.” He turned back to Spock, his mouth hardening when he beheld the tiny wound that remained on his first officer’s lip. “Just… forget it. We’ll play another time.”

Spock contemplated the human for a bare moment, and then arose from his chair and walked over to Kirk. Clasping his hands behind his back, he said, “I am not concerned about the chess game. I am, however…”

“…Concerned about me.” Jim said this with a bitter laugh. “I know. You always are, aren’t you?” He peered into the taller man’s dark eyes. “You are first and foremost my loyal friend – always. And you probably still would be – even if you knew how I’ve failed you.”

Spock’s eyebrow shot up beneath his bangs. “Failed me?”

“Do you know,” Kirk said slowly, “that most people think that you and I are opposites?”

Spock blinked; he was, in truth, having an inordinate amount of trouble following his captain’s train of thought this night. Nevertheless, he opened his mouth to reply.

“But I know differently,” Kirk forged ahead. “I know that we are very much alike, in one essential way. One word. One word we have in common – and it’s our guide, our savior… and our prison warden.”

A tiny crease appeared between Spock’s slanted brows, an indication of his bafflement. “Logic?” he ventured at last.

Kirk’s eyes narrowed. “Control. Think about it: we both need to keep it in place every second of every day. You… because you’re a Vulcan. And I…” He looked away, his brow furrowed. “Because I’m the captain of this ship. Because 430 lives depend upon it. Because if I lose it – even for one fraction of an instant – everyone might die – from the most anonymous ensign, to…” He swallowed and trailed off, unwilling to carry out the thought. “And that is what binds us together,” he concluded. “Not our differences, but the one thing we have in common. Control – and our overwhelming fear of losing it.”

Spock tilted his head. “Your premise has some validity,” he admitted. “However, I do not comprehend…”

The intense expression on Kirk’s face stopped him as surely as Jim’s finger, which reached out and touched him on the lip, precisely at the spot where Haidux’s merciless kiss had wounded him.

“I lost it,” Kirk whispered.

“Lost…” Spock breathed, utterly shaken by the cool human finger upon his mouth.

“I lost control. With Haidux – down there on that planet.”

Kirk withdrew his hand, leaving Spock torn between relief and a most illogical, shameful regret. “There was no chance. I’d already decided there was no chance. One phaser – five of them – no help in sight. No chance. And then…” Kirk shrugged, full of self-disgust. “I heard what he said to you – saw what he did – and I lost it.”

“You saved me from harm – and quite probably saved my life,” Spock reminded him gently.

Kirk shook his head. “That’s not the point.”

“I fear,” Spock said regretfully, “that your point eludes me.”

“Spock.” Kirk placed his hands, deliberately, upon the Vulcan’s shoulders and took a deep breath. “I don’t even remember what I did. I was so enraged at what he said he was going to do to you that I… I was blinded. I was blinded by my own anger – and by my feelings for you.”

Kirk said the last so softly that Spock had to crane to hear. Strange, he thought with an odd sensation of vertigo, how those words, barely audible, caused his heart rate to increase so drastically. Or was it instead those hands upon his shoulders, or the human’s close physical proximity? But this was not the time or place to meditate upon those questions. He decided to take the safe road. “You threw a stone against the rocks behind them,” he recited, “causing them to believe they were being approached from that direction. When they turned, you shot Haidux and two others before they realized you were there. I kicked one of the remaining ones and knocked him off his feet, while you…”

“I don’t remember,” Kirk said harshly. “I don’t remember anything after I picked up that stone, and heard him say that he was going to break you.”

“But… why are you chastising yourself? You did precisely the right thing.”

“Precisely the right thing – for exactly the wrong reason.” Kirk removed his hands from Spock’s shoulders and stepped back with a shuddering breath.

“The wrong reason?”

Kirk shook his head. “Forget it. You’d better leave. I’m… not logical tonight. I… I need some time to get my control back. You of all people must understand that.”

Spock did understand: he turned to go. But suddenly it became clear to him - as he took two steps away from his captain - that he did not wish to go; in fact, he could not seem to make himself go. He hesitated; the words that next came out of his own mouth surprised even him. “Would it help if I told you that he was correct?”

There was silence behind him, and then, “Who?”

“Haidux. He was correct, when he surmised that I would follow your orders… anywhere on this ship – or, for that matter, off it.”

“Anywhere…” Kirk said the word slowly, as if struggling to identify exactly what Spock was telling him.

Spock swallowed, and came, for the first time in his life, to a rash, entirely illogical decision. Gathering his courage about him, he turned around. He walked back to Kirk, looked down at him, and finally took the human’s face in his hands. “You say that I cannot understand what is in your heart,” he said, very quietly. “But I knew that you were there – and I knew that you would save me. The odds were irrelevant.” He bent down to the stunned human and kissed him softly on the lips. “Perhaps,” he said, as he leaned forward to claim his captain’s lips a second time, “you should also have faith in me.”

“My god,” Kirk breathed, as Spock finally drew back, “you just kissed me.”

“Yes,” Spock confirmed, and waited, with trepidation, to see what Kirk would do.

It did not take Kirk long; he had, after all, staked his life too many times on the ability to recognize and to seize the opportunity at hand. Before Spock had time to take a full breath, he found himself being pulled down to the human, felt cool, insistent lips upon his, felt his own body begin to respond instantly. By the time Kirk’s tongue slipped into his mouth, he was unmistakably, emphatically hard. How can he do this to me so easily? He thought to himself dizzily. And why am I not afraid?

From far away, he heard Jim’s voice, full of irony. “I’m not sure this is helping me regain control.”

He answered almost without thinking. “Perhaps control is overrated – at least in this one, isolated case.”

He felt the human stiffen with shock, but he thought he detected a tinge of amusement in the human’s voice when he answered. “Kissed by a Vulcan. And then - informed by that same Vulcan that control is overrated. I wonder what next will happen.”

Spock looked down to find hazel eyes staring up into his, glinting with an unspoken challenge. Spock’s eyebrow rose; he pulled Kirk closer to him and slipped his hands underneath his captain’s shirt, noting with satisfaction the human’s sharp intake of breath. “Do you – indeed – wonder?” he asked roughly, not at all surprised to find that he was already a little breathless.

Kirk retaliated by stroking Spock’s hard cock through the material of his trousers, eliciting a tiny moan from the Vulcan. “I’m at a total loss,” he confessed, with exaggerated innocence. “I guess you’d better show me.”

With a low growl, Spock scooped Kirk up in his arms. It was an easy matter for him to carry the man over to the bed, lay him upon it, and divest him of every scrap of clothing. Easier yet to cover the cool, silken skin that trembled beneath his hands with kisses until Kirk moaned and panted in wordless entreaty. “Jim,” the Vulcan whispered against the beating pulse of Kirk’s neck, nipping gently at his throat as the human tangled eager hands in his hair. He kissed Jim on the mouth once, deeply, and then looked into the human’s fascinating, changeable eyes and saw that they had become dark and unfocused with passion. Always beautiful, he thought to himself. But never more than now.

He was suddenly determined to discover exactly what he could bring this man to. He squirmed down upon the bed until his lips were close to Kirk’s straining sex; he heard Jim moan softly in anticipation and smiled slightly to himself. Unhurriedly, almost reverently, he licked a little droplet of pre-cum from the tip of Jim’s penis, shivering in delight at the taste.

“God, Spock,” Jim breathed, and writhed impatiently on the bed.

Spock closed his eyes and slid his mouth over the entirety of Kirk’s long, stiff shaft, reveling in the salty, clean taste of the human’s skin and the sensation of the engorged organ filling his mouth. He was a Vulcan: he was not supposed to have an imagination. But he had imagined just this act, with just this man, more times than he could count. Kirk’s hard length, swollen beneath the ministration of his lips and teeth and tongue, was almost familiar; he found that he knew exactly what to do to in order to cause Jim to arch and stiffen and thrust frantically into his mouth. As he felt Jim start to surge within him, he grasped the human’s hips and pulled him even closer, taking in as much of Jim’s sex as possible. Kirk gasped and shuddered, and called out Spock’s name. Plunging deeply into the Vulcan’s mouth, he shot his warm slippery cum deep into his lover’s throat.

Spock gladly would have spent more time playing with Kirk’s softening penis with his tongue; he was quite certain, in fact, that he would never grow tired of having that particular part of Jim within his mouth. But insistent hands pulled at his shoulders. “…Kiss you,” he heard Kirk say. “I want to kiss you.”

With a small sigh of regret, he released the fascinating cock and moved up on the bed until Jim could reach his lips with his own. “You are so beautiful,” Kirk told him softly, in between kisses. “I want to look at you while I pleasure you. Is that all right?”

“Yes,” Spock breathed.

Jim reached down and gently took Spock’s long green cock in his hands, smiling as he saw the rapt look upon the Vulcan’s face. He stroked its rigid length slowly as he told Spock, “You can’t know how many times I’ve thought of doing exactly this, and of seeing that exact expression upon your face. Do you realize how many nights I’ve lost sleep, thinking about you, and all the things I wanted to do to you?”

“No, I… Oh! Jim!” was all that Spock could manage. Kirk’s hands upon him, stroking him in this way, were going to drive him mad… or cause him to disintegrate… or both. He was certain of it. And he was equally certain that he had to have more of it. He found himself thrusting into Kirk’s grasp, caring nothing about control, or what his face was displaying, or the sounds that were coming from his mouth. All he cared about was having Kirk’s hands upon him, of finding a way to have more of that tormenting, maddening, thoroughly exhilarating touch. His hands clutched at the mattress beneath him as he arched and trembled and threw his head back… and came at last into Jim’s hands.

They drifted for an indeterminate amount of time, arms and legs entangled, Spock’s breath falling softly upon the hollow of Kirk’s neck. At some point, Jim ruffled the Vulcan’s hair and pressed his lips against Spock’s ear. Spock opened his eyes, sensing that Jim wanted to talk.

“I somehow don’t think,” Jim told him quietly, “that what we just did is going to make it easier.”

“It?”

“Keeping a level head the next time you’re in danger.”

Spock raised himself up on his elbow and regarded Jim solemnly. “What would you have done if Haidux had threatened any other member of the crew, instead of me?”

Kirk scowled slightly. “I don’t know,” he hedged.

“I do,” Spock informed him with certainty. “You would have calculated that you had almost no chance of making a successful rescue. Then you would have picked up a small stone. You would have thrown that stone against the rocks behind the Mergans, causing them to believe they were being approached from that direction. When they turned, you would have shot Haidux and two others before they realized…”

“All right, I get your point. And maybe you’re right.” He grimaced at the skeptical look he received from the Vulcan, and said, “O.K., you are right. But – if it had been anyone else…”

“It might have felt different. But your actions – and the end result – would still have been the same.” Spock gave the human a tiny, almost-smile. “We need not waste our time pretending otherwise.”

Kirk cocked his head, intrigued by something in the Vulcan’s tone. “Really. And our time would be better spent…?”

Spock fell back on the bed with an expression that was so blatantly seductive that it took Kirk’s breath away. “I am at your command. Anywhere on this ship – or off it.”

The End