NEW2ASCEM: Surrender 6/7 TOS [NC-17] (K/S, d/s)

[ASCEM]

Subject:
NEW2ASCEM: Surrender 6/7 TOS [NC-17] (K/S, d/s)
Date:
Tue, 9 Dec 1997 16:01:03 EST
From:
Killashdra <Killa...@aol.com>
Organization:
AOL (http://www.aol.com)
To:
as...@earthlink.net

James Kirk slept like the dead.
He woke to the voice of the computer, telling him he'd
slept through two wake-up signals already. It cautioned
him in a friendly tone that if he did not respond within
ninety seconds, a medical alert would sound.
"Alarm off," he said softly, and turned over--to find a
very warm, half-naked, very deeply asleep Vulcan in his bed.
Kirk lay still for a space of minutes, letting himself feel
what he felt about this turn of affairs, watching him sleep.
Dark lashes lay in a straight line against the angular
cheekbones. The raven's-wing hair fanned out across his
pillow, soft and tempting. His fingers itched to touch it. He
wondered how it was that he had never noticed that curve of
the lower lip, sensual and full of promise. And suddenly it
occurred to him that he had not yet touched either of those
incredible ears with his lips, and the anticipation made his
heart beat unevenly.
Dear god in heaven, he thought at last, when the
intensity of his own reactions threatened to overwhelm
him. How am I supposed to function as the captain of this
ship, when I can't even look at him without wanting to
crawl off somewhere and bawl my eyes out?
Kirk got up, knowing that if he did not do so soon, neither
of them would make it to the Bridge this morning.
His body raised a small inventory of complaints as he
made his way stiffly to the bathroom; he savored them,
guiltily, hoarding them to get him through the day. Chafed
skin at his wrists. Lips faintly swollen. Nipples tender.
Faint bruises on his buttocks and thighs, where Vulcan
hands had gripped a little too hard, a little too frantically.
And of course, the deep ache he cherished most, the
soreness that proved beyond a doubt what he had done last
night, what had been done to him.
He was rinsing the shampoo from his hair when he felt
Spock's presence on the other side of the shower door.
Breath catching, he had to wait a moment for his heart's
rhythm to resume.
"If you come in here, neither one of us is going to make it
out of this room before beta shift," he said, when he was
able.
"Would that be such a disastrous thing?"
Kirk swallowed, his body responding to that deep voice
as surely as a tuning fork. "I think you may be the death of
me."
A pause. Then, regretfully, "I shall shower in my own
quarters, then." Kirk heard him start to go.
"Spock?" He pressed his hands to the steam coating the
shower door.
"Yes, Jim?"
The voice close, the shape of him a dim outline through
the glass and steam and mist.
"Come back when you're finished. Please? Just for a
minute."
"As you wish." Another pause. "Good morning, Jim."
Kirk found that he was grinning, shampoo running down
his neck, hands still pressed to the door. "Yes it is, my
friend. Yes it is."

Showered and dressed in record time, Spock entered his
captain's quarters from the corridor, in full view of several
passing crewmen.
Do they know? he caught himself wondering. Can they
tell? Do they see that I am an entirely different person
than I was yesterday, and all the days that went before? If
they see us together, will they know what we are to one
another, what we have done?
How can they not?
Kirk emerged from the walk-in closet, in uniform and
stockinged feet, hair curling damply. He smiled, and Spock's
heart made a clumsy, awkward leap, like a bird caged too
long.
"Hi."
Spock took one step toward him, and stopped. Kirk was
right. If he gave in to the impulse driving him now, if he
kissed him, they would never leave this room.
He said the name, just needing to say it. "James."
Kirk closed his eyes, drawing breath in sharply. "Sweet
heaven," he whispered at last, letting the breath out. "I love
it when you call me that."
"Then I shall do so as long as you will permit it."
Kirk looked at him. "I don't ever want you to stop."
Spock had no words for that, didn't know if he could have
spoken to save his life. And Kirk, seeing that, crossed the
three steps between them and pulled the Vulcan into his
arms. Stood there holding him close, his face pressed into
Spock's neck.
Spock trembled, held him back, his body suddenly, vitally
aware of how many times in three years he had wanted to do
this. Had he tried to fool himself otherwise? Tried to tell
himself that the kalifee had changed everything?
Now, it seemed he could not remember a time when he
had not wanted this.
"Tell me what's going to happen," Kirk murmured
dreamily against his shoulder, reading his thought. "Tell me
what's troubling you. What does it mean, that you're linked
to me like this?" His voice caught. "Why does it scare
you?"
Spock heard himself answer, as if from a distant place.
"It could become permanent. Inescapable. If I were still
drawn to you, and the fever came again..." He broke off. If?
Who did he think he was deceiving? He swallowed, made
himself continue. "You would be aware of me, always, in
your thoughts." You would learn to resent me, he completed
the thought. He did not think Kirk heard. "You would no
longer be entirely free."
Kirk's answer was a whisper against his throat.
"Promise?"
Spock groaned, closing his eyes. "You shall indeed be my
undoing."
A soft chuckle. "Would that be such a disastrous thing?"
"No," the Vulcan admitted, and released his hold.
Kirk drew back, giving him an arch, incendiary look.
Daring him. "Does this mean you actually want to see the
outside of this room some time today?"
Spock sighed. "I fear we have no choice."
With mock efficiency, Kirk drew himself up, all business.
"Very well, Mr. Spock. As you insist, I shall suffer through
the day with discipline." And then his mouth curved, the
lopsided grin, and Spock's regret was sincere indeed.
"Somehow." Then he thought, head tilted a little on one side.
"On one condition."
"Name it."
"Meet me back here at twenty-three hundred?"
Spock pretended to consider it. "I may not be able to
comply, Captain. Mr. Scott and I have some things to go over
in Engineering..."
He was certain Kirk would have thrown something, had
anything appropriate been close to hand. For a second the
lion eyes flashed with wounded outrage. Then the grin
returned. "All right, I deserved that."
"Yes."
"So you'll meet me here?" It was said softly, the plea
unconcealed.
"Yes," Spock whispered hoarsely.
Did you really think otherwise?
For a long moment Kirk looked at him, as if memorizing
him. At last he simply nodded and turned to go, as if he did
not trust himself to say more. "Until then, my friend."
When he was at the door Spock said the name, a caress.
"Jim."
Kirk stopped. Turned. His eyes were very bright, full of
light that Spock knew could easily consume him. They asked
a question. In answer, Spock arched one eyebrow and looked
pointedly at his feet.
The captain of the Enterprise had forgotten to put on his
boots.



McCoy came upon his captain on the observation deck,
well into ship's evening. The man didn't turn when he came
in; McCoy suspected he hadn't even heard the door open. The
doctor took the opportunity to survey the situation,
crossing to where Kirk stood near the portals.
He was relieved--and a little surprised--to note that
Kirk displayed no obvious signs of tension.
"Well," he said softly, drawing near, "I see our resident
Vulcan isn't the only one hiding out up here these days."
"Bones, didn't anyone ever tell you it's not nice to sneak
up on people?"
Kirk had turned the lights down even further than their
usually low setting, and the stars outside glittered in a
spectacular panorama of brilliance.
"Sure. Come to think of it, I think Spock did, just last
night."
"Maybe we should put a bell on you, like the proverbial
cat."
"You'd have to catch me first. Besides, how else am I
supposed to keep y'all on your toes, Jim?"
At last Kirk turned, fixed him with a pointed gaze. "I
suspect you'd do all right, even with the bell."
There was fond tolerance in the look Kirk gave him, and
McCoy caught his breath, had to check his reaction to what
he saw in his captain's face. The man seemed to have
dropped five years in the last twenty-four hours. His eyes
were clear and without strain; his face, relaxed, made the
doctor remember the day they'd met, thirteen years before.
Made him recall the response that had sprung without
warning into his thoughts on that historic occasion, my god,
he's just a kid. And a face like that on a man ought to be
illegal.
He looked suddenly young, inexplicably at peace. It was a
look McCoy could not remember seeing on him in a decade--
maybe not even then. James Kirk looked... contented.
Oh my god.
"Do I have something on my face?"
McCoy blinked. "What?"
Kirk smiled at him bemusedly. "You're staring at me like
I have chocolate sauce on my face or something."
"No, I just..." McCoy shook that last thought out of his
head, and mustered a stern look. "Chocolate sauce?"
Kirk managed to look innocent. "Purely hypothetical
example."
"Uh-huh. What did I tell you about that stuff?"
The hazel eyes lowered, a truant caught in the act,
seeking leniency. "C'mon, Bones, you've been after me about
not eating for weeks. Cut me a little slack."
McCoy made grumbling noises, but decided to let it slide.
If Jim was hitting the sweets, he had to be feeling more
like himself. "So what's so interesting out there anyway?"
he asked casually, nodding out the portal toward the
starfield beyond. "Must be something good. Spock seemed
to think so, a couple nights ago."
"Were you harassing him, too?"
"Sure, got nothin' else to do with my time."
Kirk snorted faintly, and turned toward the stars again.
"Bones, one of these days you're going to go too far with
him, and you're going to find out that famed Vulcan control
is a myth."
McCoy looked at him thoughtfully. "That so."
At first, in the low light, he missed it. And then Kirk
shifted slightly, and McCoy saw it--the faint, almost
imperceptible stain of color, high on the fine cheekbones.
And Kirk didn't answer.
Suddenly the thought was back, and this time the doctor
couldn't quite manage to bury it before it spoke up, loud and
clear. Oh my god, he actually did it. He actually went
through with it.
Spock told him about the link.
It took him a minute to digest that one. He was hearing
his own words of the previous evening, 'you have to admit,
it might shake him out of his funk.' Well, it certainly
appeared to have done that...
Then Kirk cleared his throat a little, still not looking at
him.
"You knew, didn't you."
Not a question, really. Just simple fact.
"Yeah," McCoy said hoarsely, after a moment. "I... figured
it out. He wouldn't have told me otherwise."
Kirk's mouth curved faintly. "Oh, I can believe that."
McCoy's turn to be embarrassed. "It just didn't make
sense. The craziness that was goin' on in his body--his
systems were a mess. There just had to be a reason he got
over it so quickly. So completely. And I kept thinkin' about
something he'd said. 'The condition is initiated by the
female.'"
Kirk was looking at him intently now, curiosity
undisguised.
"Really? I didn't know that." And then, disbelievingly,
"He told you that?"
McCoy nodded. "I made him answer some questions for
me, once he got it through his thick skull that as his
physician, I needed to know."
"What else did he say?"
The doctor supposed that, things being what they were,
there was no harm in telling him. "I asked him what would
happen if one of a linked pair were to die. Or if the female
were injured, and unable to perform. And he said, 'The male
may survive, if a link to another can be forged in time.'"
McCoy's aversion welled up again, as it had when he'd first
realized the implications. "Would you believe that Vulcans
*willingly* link their children like that, knowing what the
males will suffer? Near as I can tell, the condition is
completely triggered by the female's cycle. That's why a
successful mating is the only possible solution. The Vulcan
male will stay in heat until the female is impregnated."
"But that's..."
"Horrible? Inhuman? Yeah, you and I would see it that
way. But Vulcan suffers a perpetually low birthrate. It
seems they've evolved a fool-proof method of ensuring
fertilization." Now that they were discussing medical
matters, McCoy forgot for a moment just who they were
talking about. "Near as I can guess, that's what the
challenge is all about. At certain periods in Vulcan's
history, there was a serious shortage of fertile females.
They had to ensure that the strongest males got chosen for
breeding stock. I can only assume that the challenge was
invoked when a particular male was judged unfit for
reproduction. It must be almost unheard of to call for
challenge today. A male in the condition Spock was in
would have little or no chance of surviving such a combat--"
He broke off, seeing the other man's face.
Kirk had gone pale. "She was a monster."
McCoy put a hand on his arm. "We don't know what--"
"*No.*" Kirk's eyes met the doctor's. "She meant for him
to die. At my hands."
And for the first time in two months, McCoy saw the
weighty shadow of grief in his friend's face.
McCoy swallowed, squeezed his arm. "I know, Jim."
He waited, and at last Kirk nodded, returned the pressure
on McCoy's forearm. Then he pulled back, and the doctor let
him go, met his questioning gaze.
"Bones... what you said. Does that mean... will he go
through that again?"
"Well... I suppose that depends," McCoy said carefully.
"On what?"
"On whether he decides to get married to a Vulcan
female."
Kirk drew a breath, his eyes bright with something the
doctor could not read. "So what you're saying is, as long as
he doesn't mate with a Vulcan female, he's safe?"
Confused, McCoy spread his hands. "I'm no authority, Jim.
You'll have to ask him. But I'd have to guess that,
eventually, his own physiology would catch up with him,
female or no female." McCoy frowned. What exactly was
Jim asking him?
He waited for an explanation, but Kirk only nodded
thoughtfully, eyes distant, and murmured something the
doctor couldn't quite make out.
At last, McCoy could stand it no longer. "Jim... what the
heck is goin' on with you? You're driving me nuts here, you
know that? Spock was halfway to certain you were going to
throw him out on his ass when he told you--and I wasn't
completely sure he was wrong. Are you two dealing with
this? Is he all right? Are *you?*" He cocked his head,
trying to see Kirk's face. "You haven't told me anything
important."
The man looked at him then. Hazel eyes bore that warm,
affectionate look again--and an apology. "No, you're right,"
Kirk said, smiling enigmatically. "I haven't."
And with that he turned and left the observation deck,
the doctor staring after him.

<end part 6>

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