NEW TOS After Gothos 1/1 [NC-17] K/S
Mickey
Title: After Gothos
Author: Mickey
Feedback: javab...@hotmail.com
Series: TOS
Part: 1/2
Rating: [NC-17] mild BDSM
Codes: K/S
Archiving: Help yourself.
Thanks: to Aseret for her excellent editing!
Disclaimer: No infringement or profit making intended!
Summary: Third of a series that began with Return of the
Squire and Echo of Gothos. The Psi-entity Trelane
is instrumental, in the first two stories, in revealing to Kirk
the true nature of his feelings for Spock. In the third story
Kirk submits to his First Officer.
After Gothos
by Mickey
The red glow of the fire-pot guided Kirk through the darkness
to Spock. Sweat, from nervousness and arousal, moistened every
crease in his skin. The air was overly warm for human comfort
and heavy with incense; a rich spice, reminiscent of sandalwood.
Kirk's heart beat hard at his own audacity as he stood naked in
front of the black-robed Vulcan. Spock was deep in trance, his
meditation posture rigid, his face austere in the flickering red
light, slanting eyebrows drawn in severe black slashes over
his shadowed lids.
Kirk was shaky in the act of lowering himself to the floor,
horribly vulnerable; on his back, his knees bent and parted,
facing Spock. It was a deliberate, blatant exposure of his swollen
genitals, his ass. He meant to offer himself unequivocably,
to show Spock that he was ready to be his lover.
He tried to focus on one thought to hold all his own doubt
and fear at bay. //*I can't lose him!*// It was the only way
he could tame the voice that screamed he must be losing his
mind to be doing this, insane to lie naked on Spock's floor
like some kind of rutting animal. //I shouldn't need anyone
or anything this way, but I do.//
He yearned for *so much* from Spock. The aching desire to
be physically possessed was only a guttural whisper of cravings
that yawned wide beneath flesh and bone. //Don't leave me. God,
don't leave me.// A supplicant to his lover, he capitulated with
spread limbs, hoping to stave off abandonment.
He needed Spock. The Vulcan had penetrated Kirk's fierce
isolation over time, seducing him inch by subtle inch, in the
guise of an excellent officer doing his duty. He had become a
dark satellite in perfect orbit around Kirk, endlessly alluring,
constantly offering sustenance and power. Spock's lack of personal
ambition, so rare in a senior officer, had disarmed Kirk. There was
never any threat implied in the brilliance of Spock's service to
him, no challenge to his authority. Everything his First Officer
achieved was for Kirk's benefit, not his own. This peerless
service was an effective cloak for the Vulcan's growing passion.
Kirk's achievements were the antithesis of Spock's. Ambition
and strength had rocketed him, blazing, through StarFleet's
ranks to the youngest captaincy in Fleet history. He'd burnt any
hand that reached out to hold him back. Command of his own
ship was given to him, in large part, because there wasn't a
captain in the fleet who would tolerate him as their
second-in-command.
It amazed Kirk to remember that he'd initially considered Spock
a liability. He'd expected to find the Vulcan resentful of being
passed over, or still loyal to Christopher Pike. He had balked
at inheriting such a key officer from another man's command,
and campaigned hard to get his friend, Gary Mitchell, assigned
to the post. It was one of the few things that he looked back on
with gratitude at his own mistake. He had been *so* wrong.
From the outset Spock seemed to exist for *him* alone. He had
only to look up, to express a need, and Spock was there. The
essence of calm assurance, completely at Kirk's disposal.
Whatever he asked for was simply given. Precise scientific
data from memory, reasoned judgement in the face of crisis;
Spock had gone so far as to bend the very laws of physics for
him. He had time and again created science where none existed
when Kirk needed him to.
The young captain was unaware of the growing gulf between
what he could acknowledge; respect for the Vulcan as an officer,
affection for him as a friend, and what he couldn't acknowledge;
his simmering emotional and physical passion for the man. He
didn't realize the depth of pleasure he took in his presence;
how often he indulged in the sight of him; Spock's slender, graceful
body, his face with its high cheek bones, sensuous mouth, and eyes so
deep brown they looked black under the smoky lids.
Though blind to his own enchantment, Kirk saw how others
were drawn to Spock. The irony of Spock's seeming immunity
from sexual attraction was a fact of life on board the Enterprise.
Some found it amusing, others painful, that a man graced with
such sultry good looks should be so inaccessible. Blithely, Kirk
considered the whole issue a problem for *others*, not him. He
enjoyed an intimacy of friendship, a closeness and access to Spock
which was unprecedented and never examined the source of the
pleasure it gave him.
On Gothos, six days before, everything had changed. Trelane,
the self-styled Squire of Gothos, Kirk's one-time enemy, had
forced the Captain of the Enterprise to confront a chasm of
desire that was crippling in its intensity. He'd forced Kirk's
eyes open to vistas of physical need that were as ecstatic as
they were terrifying. The truth was as inescapable and
transfiguring as molten lava, erupted from Kirk's own emotional
depths. Not only did he *want* Spock, he wanted to be consumed
by him, punished and fucked by him, hurt, comforted, and loved
by him. Trelane had made him see that Spock *loved* him, with
a depth of passion that humbled him. What shape Spock's love
for him took would be forged by the Vulcan according to his
perception of Kirk's need. Kirk felt as helpless in the face of
it as a newborn baby.
The texture of the rug was soft under him and his ass was
obscenely slick with lubricant; his toes only inches from Spock's
crossed legs. He studied the exotic features of his lover's face,
waiting, wanting him to emerge from meditation and take away
the pain of longing, to accept him. Spock's lips looked dark and
lush in the glowing firelight and Kirk craved the feel of them on
his. //Don't leave me.//
Kirk's heart rate sped into overdrive when he saw Spock open his
eyes, knowing the moment had come to be seen, judged. The
Vulcan's eyes displayed no shock at the sight of Kirk spread like
a sacrifice, only a burning intensity of attention. Kirk could feel
his skin react to Spock's slow raking scrutiny of his naked body.
His breath caught when the Vulcan studied the marks Trelane's
riding crop had left on the insides of his thighs. Spock observed
them without speaking and Kirk was grateful. He didn't want to
talk about Trelane, not yet.
When the Vulcan spoke, his voice was warm velvet. "You are
offering yourself to me."
Kirk wanted the weight of Spock on top of him so badly he
could *feel* it in his chest, his stomach, between his legs. His
arms rose from the floor, reaching out, but the seated figure
didn't move and Kirk lowered his arms slowly back to the floor.
"I want you," he managed to say.
"Your desire is evident," Spock said. "Do you offer yourself to me
without reservation?"
Kirk had to force his mind around these words, to concentrate
through the haze of his lust. //*How could I offer more?*//
"Do you want me to beg you Spock? ... I will." His voice was breathy,
overwrought with need. //*Touch me*.// It tortured him to lie
still as the controlled intensity of Spock's gaze held him pinned
and silent. The tightly reined heat in the Vulcan's eyes attested
to a discipline that could denounce desire; Spock *could*, he
would walk away if Kirk didn't give him the answer he was
seeking.
His gaze traveled between the restless thighs spread in front
of him, over the engorged cock and down to Kirk's ass, where it
lingered before he looked up again. "I do not doubt that you would
beg me." He acknowledged it simply. "But, without certain assurance
you understand what you are doing, I will not take you." He raised
his hand and with the backs of his fingers lightly stroked the
inside of Kirk's thigh. "If I take you now I will not relinquish you,
no matter how frightened you become." He drew his hand away.
Kirk's body rang with pleasure from Spock's caress,
but his mind was in turmoil. //Is he angry that I ran away?//
After their only night together on board ship, Kirk had bolted
in panic with the first light of waking.
"I shouldn't have done that ... I shouldn't have left like that
without seeing you, or talking to you." Kirk was distressed to
feel tears gathering in his throat, to hear his own rough voice.
//*Crying?* Oh, Lord.// "Can't you forgive that?"
"Forgive?" Spock sounded faintly surprised. "There is nothing
to forgive."
"Then what ...?" Kirk asked, confused.
"I was not angry with you."
"But ..."
"You misunderstand me. I do not reproach you for your fear, it
does not hurt me. The pertinent matter is that it I will
*disregard* your fear. If you give yourself to me, I'll take you
... whenever ... however I wish to." His tone was silken threat,
"The word *no* will cease to have meaning when
you speak it to me. Do you still offer yourself knowing this?"
Kirk felt a welling anguish and fought tears, a stray ran down one
side of his face and his hands flew up to cover his eyes. "Yes,"
he uttered softly, "I'm saying *yes* to you."
"Then it is done. Look at me, T'hy'la," Spock commanded gently,
and Kirk forced himself to move his hands away from his face.
Spock untied his robe and pulled the sash free. The cloth fell
open enough for Kirk's hungry eyes to glimpse shadowed skin,
a portion of sleekly-muscled chest. He drew a sharp breath at
the sight of the massive bronze erection, so taut that its
moss-dark head nearly dug into the Vulcan's stomach. Facing
the reality of Spock's arousal, Kirk's body gripped in terror
of being split wide open. Not just this night, but echoing
endless enslavement to Spock's rending flesh. The forbidden
word *no* choked him, rising and sticking in his throat.
"Hold out your hands," Spock said, and Kirk understood it to be
an order in spite of the Vulcan's calm tone of voice.
"Why?" Kirk whispered through anguished layers of resistance. //No.//
"Because I request it."
"Spock, I don't want it to be this way." //*No!*//
Spock's voice was soothing but offered no option other than
obedience. "Your hand, T'hy'la. It will hurt less if you give it
to me now."
Kirk knew in his marrow, meeting Spock's eyes, that the words
carried all the threat of the Vulcan's physical strength. It was
written in stone. If he couldn't make himself do this, he'd be
*made* to; it would happen regardless of what he said, what
he did, what he professed to want, or not want. //No.// He only
dared to speak it silently as he raised his hand in the air.
Pleasure tremored in his arm at Spock's touch when the long
hand enfolded his wrist. The touch conveyed the essence of
what Kirk worshipped in his lover, an untold strength ensheathed
in tenderness, in warmth. Spock's fingertips caressed minutely
as they held him and Kirk's fear gave way to longing to hold
and be held. //If only he would just take me in his arms and
make love to me.// A *normal* embrace, giving and taking
equally; not this perversion, this one-sided control by one of
the other. //I don't have to be *taken*, I *want* him.//
"Now the other."
Kirk froze, he didn't want to lift his hand from the floor.
He had to make Spock understand.
"I know you think you're doing this for *me*, that it's what
I want," the words skittered out of him. "You think I need
this, but I don't." He saw his lover was unmoved and tried
desperately to find the right words to make him give way.
"If I could just ... I want to be able hold you, I want to touch
you. Please, don't do this." His heart poured in pleading,
thickening his throat, he felt he was near to weeping, again.
"Beg if you wish, Jim, or cry, but you must give me your hand."
Kirk raised his arm, tear-filled eyes entreating his lover. "I
*hate* this," he murmured to no effect as the Vulcan took one
wrist, crossed it over the other and bound them together.
Spock rose to his knees. He wound the sash in his fist and as
if Kirk weighed nothing, he pulled him up until he was kneeling
in front of him, steadying him with a hand at his waist. He bent
the bound wrists backwards, straining Kirk's armpits and triceps
to their limit, forcing his hands behind his head. Kirk's lower
body was thrust forward, so close to Spock's he could feel the
heat of him on his thighs, on his hard cock. With a groan of pure
lust, he tried to thrust his hips forward to press into that warmth.
"Be still," Spock cautioned with a restraining hand on Kirk's
hip. "Look at me."
Kirk was breathing hard, he felt stretched from his hips to his
elbows and close to whimpering with need for touch. Spock's
eyes were burning into him.
"You are very much mistaken if you think it does not give me
pleasure to take control of your body. It is ... immensely pleasurable."
His tilted his head gazing at Kirk's mouth, face drawing nearer.
Kirk opened up like a flower to be kissed. Spock licked Kirk's
lower lip and pulled it gently in his teeth. His hand was sliding
up Kirk's side, over his chest, stroking as he kissed him.
Spock drew the tail of the sash forward between Kirk's arm and
neck. He used it to caress him, winding the silk around his finger,
he slid it over hardened nipples, making Kirk moan as he was kissed,
making his hips tremble. Silkiness teased at Kirk's throat and up
behind his ear as Spock's tongue explored his mouth. Kirk was
melting, marshmallowy soft everywhere but his nipples and rigid
cock. He didn't realize, until the material tightened across his
throat, that Spock had wound the sash around his neck. His
eyes flew wide in terrified comprehension of the seemingly
random caresses. Spock was tying his wrists to his neck - if
he struggled the sash would tighten to a stranglehold.
"Breathe," Spock ordered.
Kirk gasped for breath, and tried to swallow, panicking hard.
Constricting with fear his heart squeezed in his chest and his
brain shot into overload. // *Wrong!* ... wrong ... my God, this
is so wrong ...//
"Untie me." His voice was a horrified whisper, his eyes flashing
desperation into Spock's, begging to be acknowledged, for Spock
to *hear* him. Spock's gaze was opaque.
"You wish to be untied," he said as if it were a curious fact.
Kirk's mind leapt.
"It's too *much*, Spock, ... to do this ... it's wrong." Kirk's arms
were on fire with the strain of holding tight behind his head to
keep the sash loose on his throat. The stretching was unbearable
under his arms, burning his shoulders. He fought tears, anguished
with need to make his lover understand that he could not bear this.
"Spock, *please*." His breath was ragged with the effort not to
weep but it was impossible to hold back the moisture swelling
behind his eyes.
"You may cry, T'hy'la," the Vulcan assured him gently.
Spock no longer needed to hold Kirk's arms imprisoned. He cupped
both his hands at the base of Kirk's shoulders, thumbs curving
deep and massaging into the straining armpits. Pain began melting
at once under his touch, the burning ache through Kirk's arms eased
and his throat relaxed. Kirk moaned deep with relief, closing his
eyes on his spilling tears. //Yes, God, yes.// Then he felt Spock's
mouth touch his face, tongue tracing the moisture of tears. Kirk's
mind stilled, emptied of words. His thoughts thinned out and
disappeared like faint clouds in a desert sky. There was only warmth
left in their place and mindless seeking of the source of warmth
with his lips, searching for Spock's mouth.
The comfort of renewed kissing seeped through Kirk, traveling
lusciously into his chest, soothing the tightened muscles of his
belly and stroking sweetly in his groin, making his hips roll toward
Spock's. Kirk felt his cock brush across Spock's erection, an
elysian promise of what would be inside him and he filled Spock's
mouth with his groan.
"Soon," Spock murmured, holding him away. He lowered Kirk's now
pliant body to the floor, positioning him with stroking hands.
Kirk followed Spock's every move in the red firelight, trailing
him with longing, loving eyes. Spock slid the cushion he used for
meditation under Kirk's hips, turning it into a platform for
fucking him, and it made Kirk feel like he was enthroned.
Spock knelt between Kirk's feet and Kirk watched, rapt, as the
black robe slid off his lover's shoulders. //Soon, soon ...// he
told himself, echoing Spock's promise. He watched him hold
the robe aloft in his hands and tear the fabric, ripping long
strips of cloth with calm precision.
The destruction opened a stream of misgivings in Kirk's heart
as if he had forced the Vulcan to desecrate sacred things.
//What am I doing to him?//
As if in answer to the silent question Spock grasped Kirk's ankle
and raised it up to kiss. He tongue-bathed the tender skin between
anklebone and instep, making Kirk shudder, turning his thoughts
back to silent prayers of gratitude.
A strip of black cloth bound Kirk's ankle, another was wound at
the top of his thigh, accentuating the crease between his leg and
outward curve of his ass. Spock secured one band of cloth to the
other, trapping Kirk's foot snug up against him. // ...soon Spock,
please, please, soon... // One leg, and then the other.
Kirk waited, completely bound and so aroused that he thought he
could come from the brush of a fingertip. The pressures of the
bonds holding his body in place were like tight hands in impassioned
caresses. He was acutely aware of himself as a vessel, a fuckable
object, yearning to be filled. His body was squeezed into the
shape of his desire; bent legs spread and hips arched high, stretched
arms opening his chest and the deep portions of his stomach to
exquisite hunger for touch. He waited, watching Spock whose
eyes were half-shut with a smoldering desire; the veil of Vulcan
control no longer hid anything from Kirk's eyes. He
saw how his lover burned for him, the broad planes of Spock's
cheekbones flushed dark bronze with arousal.
Slowly Spock lowered himself over Kirk's bound body, not
touching him. With one hand he braced himself, and with the
other he guided his cock to the hole that was slickened and
waiting open for him. With one thrust he passed the wet rings
of tight muscle and began pumping his rigid flesh inexorably
deeper, each thrust forcing Kirk's body to take more of him in
until, stroking steadily, he was buried completely inside the
sheath of his lover's hungry body.
Kirk was blinded with pleasure in each thrust, impossibly full
of what he craved; hours of need being filled. //Never stop
fucking me, never, never.// The pumping flesh expanded him,
stroking him into regions of pleasure his genitals couldn't
comprehend. Kirk's erection was like the loaded barrel of a gun
with its trigger buried deep in his ass. The submerged pounding of
his lover's cock lit the fuse that set him off, exploding in jets of
cum. His pleasure deafened him, choked him, crowding his senses.
His cries through the clutching body spasms were like the sound
of someone screaming in another room.
Spock's stroking slowed into gentler, steady penetration as his
captive panted for breath in the aftermath of his climax. Gradually
Kirk's shallow gulps for air transformed into deeper breaths of
pleasure. He opened his eyes slowly and gazed up through a
misted haze of love. He studied Spock's face above him and was
enthralled. Pleasure infused every feature of the Vulcan face,
the eyes were closed to sparkling dark crescents, brows slightly
furrowed, lips lusciously swollen. Spock's head was cocked at an
angle as if listening as he slowly, gently continued to fuck. The
coal-dark eyes opened more, meeting Kirk's, and a sound escaped
Spock's mouth, the softest groan imaginable, a barely audible
purring growl.
The thrusting was long and sweet, each inward stroke renewed
joy, each outward movement a promise to return; Kirk felt his
loins stirring again, a hint of gathering blood, swelling. He adored
his lover's body with possessive eyes, the muscles in his arms
standing out in long taut curves, incredibly powerful; broad
sculpted shoulders, slender torso in liquid motion. //Every inch
of you is mine.// To belong to such a divine creature awed him.
Spock shuddered and stopped moving, pressed as deeply and tight
as he could. His eyes closed completely for a timeless moment
and then opened slowly. Kirk waited, content to be full, knowing
he would feel the wet heat of his lover's cum inside him soon.
Spock's hand slid under him and pushed away the cushion, holding
him close. He slowly lifted him up, keeping their bodies flush
together as he rose higher on his knees. Only Kirk's shoulders
still made contact with the floor, he felt weightless as a
child, supported completely by the hands under his ass. The Vulcan
gave him time to accustom himself to this position, watching
Kirk closely as he adjusted his hold on him. Then he began to
move their bodies together, harder and harder, until he was
jamming his cock hard into him, forcing Kirk onto punishing
strokes. The human was astonished by the joy of being fucked
so hard, hopelessly aroused by the raw power that he knew Spock
was still controlling. Unleashed, it could have broken and battered
him. The hard thrusts gave way when Spock came, holding Kirk
tight to the jerking roll of his hips. The Vulcan's head flung
back in a beautiful arched expanse of neck as he emptied into
Kirk's body in long trembling pulses. He was glowing when his
body grew still and his head came forward, eyes seeking Kirk's.
He lowered him gently to the floor, turning Kirk onto to his side.
He curled close beside him, facing him, murmuring words in Vulcan
that Kirk didn't understand. What he understood was that he was
being cherished. The words were a verbal caress as Spock gazed
in his eyes and stroked a soothing hand up his back. With a single
tug of the sash the binding at his neck was gone and his wrists
were free. Kirk instantly missed the pressure of the tight cloth
restraints but accepted Spock's choice to release him.
"Not my legs," he whispered, not wanting to be completely
relinquished, as if by untying him Spock was letting him go.
To show him he was not abandoned, Spock took possession of
Kirk's untied wrist and drew it down steadily, stinging him
with the painful uncurling of his arm muscles. Kirk winced at
the sharp sensations but they reminded him that his body was
in Spock's care. He was as grateful for the measured pain as he
was for the kisses on the side of his face.
"You'll stay?" he asked the Vulcan in a voice that was raw
with vulnerability, a voice that would never be
heard by anyone but Spock.
"Yes," the Vulcan assured him.
Spock's fingers worked at the leg bindings and Kirk
stayed quiet as the straps came loose. His skin was stinging
where the tight cloth had bitten into him. Spock's finger tip traced
the sensitive circle of grooved skin around Kirk's thigh, up under
his ass. He stroked up the cleft of his buttocks, stirring his own
cum as it seeped from Kirk's body.
end
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T'Rhys
>
>Title: After Gothos
Fascinating dynamic you've set up here. I wonder what sort of effect this
relationship might have on Kirk's command ability in the long term.
LL&P }:)
"T'Rhys" <tkn...@ix.netcom.com>
Mickey
Thanks for the comments, folks. The Gothos stories are my first
fanfics and I'm still pretty shaky. I just discovered slash a couple
of months ago and love reading K/S. I was overwhelmed with the need to
create some. Plenty of fuzzy edges - I completely skirted the mental
bonding between Spock & Kirk, took huge liberties with the character
of Trelane, and definitely could do some more thinking about how the
relationship would affect Kirk's command. Obviously, lust clouded my
vision. I'm one of those writers, so incredibly moved by C.M Decarnin
that, although I had never considered Kirk and Spock in a dominant/
submissive relationship, I was panting for more of it so bad that I
had to try and write some. Thank God CM finally posted a third part to
Intreat...!
Anyway - thanks for the feedback and encouragement. I have no website
yet but I'm unable to stop writing so I will be posting more!
Mickey