NEW2ASCEM: Surrender 5/7 TOS [NC-17] (K/S, d/s)

[ASCEM]

Subject:
NEW2ASCEM: Surrender 5/7 TOS [NC-17] (K/S, d/s)
Date:
Tue, 9 Dec 1997 16:00:42 EST
From:
Killashdra <Killa...@aol.com>
Organization:
AOL (http://www.aol.com)
To:
as...@earthlink.net

When Kirk knew anything again, he was lying on his side,
and Spock was rubbing circulation back into his arms.
Slowly he became aware of other things; making himself
focus on them was more difficult. He was in his bed,
covered to the waist, and Spock had turned him the right
way on the mattress. He felt dry and clean, and guessed
that was Spock's doing, too.
His throat ached fiercely, as if he had been weeping.
The Vulcan must have sensed that he was awake, for the
motion of his hands on Kirk's arms slowed, then resumed.
Kirk waited for the expected question, Are you all right,
Jim? But it didn't come, and he guessed that Spock was
waiting for him to speak first.
With effort, he shifted onto his back.
Spock was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed except
for his blue tunic. Kirk thought that maybe it should have
bothered him, that he was lying there naked under cover of a
thin sheet while Spock was safely clad in black from throat
to ankle... but it didn't. He supposed a red alert wouldn't
have bothered him too terribly much just then. He came up
on one elbow.
Their eyes met.
Something eased in Kirk's throat, and he thought, it's
going to be all right. Whatever happens, it's going to be all
right.
"How did you know?" he asked finally, his voice a rough
whisper.
Spock raised one eyebrow, questioning.
Kirk felt something small and vital break open in his
chest. His mouth curved, and he knew his heart was in his
eyes. "How do you always know?"
The Vulcan just shook his head. Waiting for him to
explain.
Kirk looked down at his hands, at Spock's resting in his
lap a few centimeters away. How to explain it? Could
there be any logic to what he was feeling right now?
As if reading his wish, when he was silent too long
Spock reached out hesitantly and took one of Kirk's hands in
both of his. Startled, Kirk looked up to find Spock's eyes on
him, warm and unguarded, and he knew he had been right. It
*would* be all right.
Better than all right.
"Do you wish to tell me about it?" Spock said gently, at
last. His voice was rough, too. "About what has been
troubling you?"
Kirk thought about that one; at last he shook his head
apologetically. "I don't know if I can explain."
"Try."
Spock's hands were warm. Searching for words, Kirk
turned his hand in that gentle grip, caressed the backs of
Spock's fingers absently with his thumb.
"I think I was... scared," he said finally, very softly. "I
mean... really scared, in a way I've never been before."
Spock wanted very much to pull Kirk into his arms,
protect him from every threat, real or imagined, small or
great. He satisfied himself with their joined hands,
knowing there would be time for more later. "I have never
known you to give in to fear."
Kirk shook his head wryly, giving him a chastising look.
"Not quite accurate, my friend."
And that was true, of course... for Spock knew this man
very well. Knew that there were two things James Kirk did
fear in earnest--and that they were perhaps two sides of
the same coin. He feared losing command. And he feared
failure. Each life lost under Kirk's command had etched its
own scar into his soul; Spock had seen them. Saw them
now, dark shadows in the hazel eyes.
Spock thought then that he began to understand what he
had only sensed instinctively before. He spoke hesitantly.
"The doctor suggested... cumulative stress. It has been... a
very difficult time for you."
"For all of us. The whole crew has been through hell the
last two months."
"Yes," Spock murmured. "But you have lost a great deal
more than any man should."
Kirk's eyes lifted to his, bright with tenderness. "And
you've been right there with me every step of the way,
haven't you?" He sighed, and dropped his gaze. "You're right,
of course. And so's McCoy, in part. But there was more."
Spock waited. It was a long time before Kirk went on,
and when he spoke again there was a darkness in his face
and his voice was tense, but without the distance that had
been between them before.
"That was just it, see. I knew that I should be at the end
of my rope. McCoy kept prodding me to come down for a
psych exam after... the Guardian. And then again after
Deneva. And I kept telling him, 'I'm fine, Bones.' And I was."
Kirk seemed to have totally forgotten his nakedness. He sat
up, pulling his hand free, gesturing. "It was like, nothing
could touch me. I watched these people that I loved, that I
cared about, that I was *responsible* for in danger... dying,
right in front of me. And each time it happened, I felt a
little less, hurt a little less."
"Jim, it is a natural defense. Humans deal with loss by
withdrawing, for a time. You could not--"
But Kirk shook his head. "I know that, Spock. But you
don't understand... on Theta Aurigae we watched four
hundred people butchered before our eyes. Four *hundred*
people, some of whom I knew by name..." His breath caught
for a moment; he had to swallow. "They were my
responsibility. And they died, because I couldn't do a damn
thing to stop it--and I felt *nothing.* Not then, and not in
the three weeks since."
Spock wanted badly to say or do something that would
make it all right for him. But there was nothing that could.
At last Kirk went on. "A captain of a starship can't
function like that. *I* can't. It would have meant disaster
eventually--or a ground assignment, if I'd had the courage
to recognize that I ought to remove myself from command. I
knew it. I just--couldn't face it." His eyes found Spock's.
"More people could have died because of me. Would have, if
you hadn't come here tonight."
"Jim. You judge yourself far too harshly." He gave Kirk
the look he knew the other would recognize as a smile. "You
are only human, after all."
Kirk's lips quirked upward a little, and his eyelashes
swept his cheeks. "I see no reason for insults, Mr. Spock."
Spock could not come up with an appropriate remark.
That look had left him rather breathless.
But Kirk shuddered faintly, and he leaned toward the
Vulcan as if unaware that he had done so. "I kept thinking,
'What *am* I, that I can watch people die and feel so..
*uninvolved.* What have I become?'"
The Vulcan touched his shoulder, gently. "And now?"
"Now?" Kirk caught his breath. Let it out, slowly, and
looked up. "I think it's going to be all right. Not yet, maybe.
Not tonight. But soon."
Soon I'll cry for her, the sadness in his eyes said, and
Spock heard.
"I will be there, Jim. When that time comes."
Kirk swallowed. "I know."
Something seemed to ease further in him then, for
he glanced down and flushed a little, as if only then noticing
his state of undress. "So I ask you again, my friend... how did
you know?"
Spock thought he understood what Kirk meant. He had, by
some instinct or telepathy or perhaps gift of providence,
seized upon the one method of reaching Kirk that had stood
any chance of success. He had taken control, and thus freed
Kirk from that overwhelming weight of responsibility--
even for his own responses.
He had shown Kirk that he could feel again.
"I guessed," he admitted at last, knowing that he himself
might never know what process of instinct and need had
guided him to cross all their boundaries at once. "Vulcan
intuition."
Kirk's eyes widened. "You--" He broke off in
astonishment. And then he was smiling, the sunny grin that
had never failed to make Spock's heart beat faster. "Well
I'll be damned. That was some guess, Mr. Spock."
Their eyes held, and quite suddenly, Spock was certain
that James Kirk was going to kiss him, and his heart missed
a beat.
But instead, the smile faded. The expressive face grew
serious, eyes bright with an honesty that made the Vulcan's
throat ache.
Kirk drew a shaky breath. "Spock... I just realized. What
happened on Deneva... it could happen again. I might have to
make a decision like that again." The tension in his body
increased. "In fact, the chances are good that I will. How
the hell am I supposed to make decisions about your life--
now?"
"Jim--"
"No! Don't tell me it wasn't my fault."
"It was not."
"I never should have allowed McCoy to go through with it
like that. Without more tests. You could have been
permanently blinded!"
"It was my own recommendation."
Kirk shook his head sharply. "It was my decision."
"Yes. And you made the correct one." The Vulcan waited
until Kirk was looking at him. And then he spoke, allowing
his own overwhelming remorse to show for the first time.
"You think I do not know that feeling? You think I do not
know what it is to see the one you value most pay the price
of your mistakes?"
It took Kirk a moment to understand. Then his eyebrows
drew together. "Spock, what happened on Vulcan... it wasn't
your fault. It was my choice to accept the challenge. I
could have said no."
Spock only looked at him.
"All right, so I wouldn't have said no. It still wasn't your
fault."
"Yes. It was." The certainty was a stone in his heart. "I
kept my condition from you. I did not give you all the facts-
-"
"How could you have known that she was going to do
something like that?"
Spock seized him by the arms, suddenly needing more
than anything in the universe to feel him warm, alive, under
his hands. "*I should never have allowed you to beam down
with me!*"
A moment after the words were out, he regretted them.
Too soon. Apprehension rose in his throat. But Kirk's hands
were on his shoulders then, returning the pressure of his
own desperate grip. And before he could think, or speak,
Kirk had pulled him forward, into his arms.
The embrace was awkward, unfamiliar--but the Vulcan
did not resist. Kirk's hand found the back of his neck. Held
him there tightly for a moment. "It's going to be all right."
"You do not understand." He said it against the warm
skin at Kirk's throat, his own body going hot and then chilled
in quick succession. "Something happened," he whispered,
forcing the words out. "In the arena. On Vulcan. When I
touched you..." He knew he was not making sense. They
were sitting up in the bed, knees pressed together, and
suddenly Spock's body remembered what it felt like to be
inside him, and a tremor ran through him.
Kirk's hand stroked the nape of his neck, exactly as
Spock had done to him.
"It's going to be all right."
And Spock heard it--the understanding. The certainty.
He drew a sharp breath, and pulled back. Looked hard into
the other's face. When he could speak, he asked, "When did
you know?"
Gold lion eyes shot through with green met his, levelly.
"That you were linked to me, and not T'Pring?" And the
expressive face suddenly flushed hot. "Only tonight. When
you... when we... I felt you. In my mind. And before, when
you were rubbing my shoulders, you knew what I was
thinking. What I wanted." He drew a breath. "But I think I
had some idea before." His mouth canted. "I just... hadn't let
myself think about it."
Spock could only stare at him.
The human grew serious, and touched him, a faint brush
of fingertips at his temple. And suddenly there were tears
standing in Kirk's eyes. "It'll be all right. I'll always be
there for you. You hear me? No matter what."
Spock couldn't quite breathe properly. He had the feeling
of falling. There was still a very great deal that needed to
be said. They had made no promises, had only begun to touch
on the truths that had brought them to this moment, to what
had happened in this room, this night. Spock had not meant
to ask for this. Had not meant to need it so. He made
himself say the name. "Jim..."
Kirk shook his head, once, denying any protest he would
have made. "No matter *what,*" he whispered fiercely.
At last Spock nodded, accepting.

A long space of minutes later. A sleek dark head
pillowed on the smooth curve of a human shoulder.
"Spock?"
The Vulcan made a faint questioning sound, with some
effort. It was very late and... very comfortable here.
The question came, low and husky with emotion and the
lateness of the hour. "Why did you call me that? Before?"
It took Spock a moment. And then another to find the
words. He spoke slowly, not certain his reasons could be
explained. "I have always found your given name quite...
aesthetically pleasing. It... suits you."
Kirk's breath caught, softly, and under his ear Spock
heard the human heart accelerate a little. "Why Mr. Spock, I
do believe that is the finest thing anyone has ever said to
me."
They were silent, listening to the shape of Kirk's
promise, neither of them quite able to speak of it yet.
"There is... another reason," Spock said at last.
"Mm-hmm?" Kirk's lips were resting lightly on his hair.
Absently, the Vulcan's hand moved on Kirk's stomach,
caressing him faintly. Spock was still dressed, on top of
the bed, and Kirk was still stretched out under the thin
sheet. But they were lying full length together now, and
Spock was quite, quite aware of his captain's nakedness.
"I do not know if I can explain," he sighed.
"Try." He felt Kirk's mouth curve against his hair.
Spock closed his eyes. "I remember... the first time we
played chess. Do you remember it?"
"Yes. Of course. An historic occasion." Spock could hear
the smile in his voice.
"You said to me, after the third game I lost to you, 'Mr.
Spock, surely you do not mean to permit this to continue?'"
"Arrogant bastard, wasn't I?"
"Indeed."
Kirk chuckled softly. "I remember. And you said,
'Captain, statistically, your chances of winning the next
match against me are two thousand, four hundred and some
such to one.' And I, of course, couldn't resist the challenge."
"Naturally."
"And that time you beat the pants off me."
"Naturally."
Kirk swatted at his arm. "Arrogant bastard."
"Indeed." Spock's hand made another slow circle tracing
the human's navel. "Do you remember what I said to you
after the match was over?"
Kirk thought. "Something about my peculiar brand of
logic being 'inspirational,' I believe was the word you used."
"Yes. I was... overwhelmed by you. To me, you seemed
hardly old enough to have achieved a fraction of what your
service record described. And before I lost three matches
in a row to you that night, it had been four years and seven
months since the last time anyone had defeated me in
chess."
"Well, I'd say you've more than evened the score against
me since then."
"Negative."
Kirk shifted, looking down at him. "You've been
counting...?"
"Affirmative."
Astonished silence. Then, "How far ahead am I?"
"Not very." Said with a certain note of determination.
Kirk laughed then, a light and brilliant sound that Spock
thought was perhaps the most wonderful music he had ever
heard. "But what does that have to do with...?"
"Do you recall your answer to me?"
This time Kirk was at a loss. "What did I say?"
"I said, 'Thank you for the instruction, Captain. I find
your unconventional approach to the game quite eminently
logical. Indeed, inspirational.' And you said, 'Well, we'll
have to do this again some time, Mr. Spock.' And you started
to leave. Then, at the door to the rec room, you turned back,
and said--"
"'Oh, and by the way... my friends call me Jim.'"
Spock nodded, remembering.
"I'm still not sure I understand."
"As I said, it is difficult to explain. I merely... that is to
say, I have always found a certain... appeal in using the name
you gave me that day. It was a difficult adjustment for me,
at first, to acknowledge our friendship openly in that
manner. But I learned to appreciate that gift."
"Yes..." Kirk murmured, obviously touched and yet still
somewhat puzzled.
Spock cleared his throat, wishing he'd simply kept his
mouth shut. "The difficulty lies in the memory
association..."
Kirk was silent for another long moment. And then he
said in a small, incredulous voice, "You mean, when you call
me 'Jim' it makes you think of chess...?"
"Yes. Which is, you will agree, a train of thought not
precisely conducive to..."
Kirk made a strangled, choked sound, which might have
been hilarity... or hysteria. Spock could not be certain. And
then the powerful body beneath him moved, twisted, and all
at once Kirk's mouth was on his.
"My god," Kirk breathed, chuckling breathlessly
between molten caresses. His hands were on Spock too, and
he was pressing his warm, maddening, enflaming body
against the Vulcan full length. Spock sank fast into a well
of helpless response, his own nerves coming awake like a
brush fire. The succulent mouth ravished his. The voice
shook. "My god, I love you." And Kirk's breath caught hard,
and he stopped, and pulled away far enough to look down at
him. "I love you," he whispered, and the terror and joy
spilled out of him into Spock, and the Vulcan feared dying
from it. "I love you. I'm in love with you. Oh god--" And
his voice caught harder, for he was crying now. "Oh god,
Spock."
And they kissed, and kissed, and Spock didn't breathe and
didn't care that darkness was going to swallow him. Yes.
Let him lose consciousness. He could not bear this
intensity, this need, this love. Kirk's mouth on his was heat
and flame and salt tears, and it unraveled him.
Then that lush body was beneath him again, hands
molding him, squeezing his buttocks, dragging clothing out
of the way. His hands were in Kirk's hair. "Jim. James." He
buried himself in the heat of Kirk's mouth, between his legs,
and shuddered from the surge of pleasure.
Kirk threw his head back, panting. "Yes, Spock. Oh god.
Fuck me again, now. Do it now. Right now--"
And it would have to be now. Right now. Spock shoved
frantically at the confining clothing, and with Kirk's help
the fastening tore and the pants came down. Spock was
shaking uncontrollably. "I can't. I can't--not like this."
"Yes. Do it." The sheet was mercifully gone, out of the
way, and Kirk's hips surged up, silken heat and steel
brushing across Spock's sex. Kirk moaned aloud.
But Spock could not hurt him. Now, like this, after what
had gone before and no fluid to ease the way--no. "No," he
gasped, struggling for control and knowing it was slipping
from his fingers.
"Do it."
Spock kissed him, tasted his tongue, and broke away
desperately. "No!" He begged it against Kirk's arched throat.
"I will hurt you."
And then Kirk's hand was on his, pressing Spock's fingers
against his scalp, his face. He held Spock's gaze, his eyes
green with passion, hot and needing and unbearably beautiful.
"Then do it like this. Fuck me like this, Spock. I don't care.
I just need you inside me."
Spock's heart throbbed and swelled, and he could not bear
the pressure. "T'hy'la--"
"Come inside me," Kirk whispered. His other hand pulled
the Vulcan's hips down, hard against him.
And there was nothing left of Spock but the burning,
flooding, unbearable desperation to be inside of him, and so
he was, and his needy sex throbbed and slid and thrust
against Kirk's as he closed his eyes, and reached.
I await thee, Kirk said in his mind.
The pleasure shattered him.

<end part 5>

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