Another Confrontation in the Brig

[mirroredcommand]

The worst part of the time in the brig was the boredom. Normally he was a very, very busy man. He worked with the science division of his crew quite strongly when it was needed, in particular Spock on the replication of the alien technology that was the source of power for his gloves. They had many plans for it, in particular for the Enterprise herself.

Now he was alone, or possibly only mostly alone depending on who else was in the brig. Without the First Officer that was the single person he trusted in any universe. Briefly, he entertained the thought of Spock attempting to come through the barrier between universes to find him, but would not push the strength of their trust that far. But... perhaps.

For now... he could wait.

Comments

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

Spock mirrored his posture. Was Pike attempting to appear nonthreatening or nonchalant? Perhaps both.

"I would prefer knowledge. But as you are the maker of the choice in this instance, your preference is the determining factor. You may share information with me or not."

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

"Then tell me, Spock," He stepped closer, watching Spock meticulously even as his tone remained casual but dropped in timbre, "What would you like to know?"

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

Pike's body temperature seemed higher than that of the other humans. Spock could feel it as Pike moved into Spock's personal space. He tensed slightly, ready for motion should Pike attempt to touch him.

"I have already told you what I desire: to know the extent of the relationship you shared with your Spock. Also, I would be remiss if I did not inform you - I am aware of the capabilities of your gloves. If you are not my enemy, you would remove them."

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Pike slowly tilted his head, keeping their eyes met from that so-close distance. "Would you ask a tiger to remove its claws? A bear its teeth? If I am not your enemy, you would trust me to keep my claws sheathed." His voice remained in that low register, quiet. "After all, I can't ask you to remove your strength or your telepathy."

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

Spock leaned in until the barest inches separated them.

"It may be that you are not my enemy, Pike. But you are a predator. I smell it on you. I do not trust you to defy your nature."

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

"It takes prey to recognize the predator, or another of its kind. Which are you, Spock? I know what your counterpart is." Pike did not pull back in the least, keeping that same calm expression, focused and intense.

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

An answering spark of humor flared for a moment, deep in Spock's dark eyes.

"I am a vegetarian. It would be unwise, however, to mistake me for prey."

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

There was nothing for a long moment, then the expression around his eyes lightened and he laughed. It was a small laugh, but for a moment his face smoothed out into one that Spock would find far more familiar. He shook his head minutely and brought his gaze back to Spock's.

"Well played, Spock. Well played." He rumbled lowly, tilting his head. "I could tell you of our relationship, if you still desire to know... or you, as he often as, are allowed to see for yourself."

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Would you clarify your meaning and intention?"

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

"You're a bright one, Spock. Is it really that difficult to figure out?" Pike's hand came up slowly and held the fingers in a very familiar spread, but did not touch Spock.

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

"You have responded most aggressively to an attempted meld - I do not begin such endeavors without consent where it can be given."

He brought one hand up, fingers in delicate position, and placed them just above the points on Pike's face, not even the lightest of touches yet while he considered. Internally, he tucked certain things away. He would keep his own secrets and protect his bondmates if he were to do this thing.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

"I'll let you see what is needed, do not probe further or I will shield you out in any way necessary." The voice dipped only briefly into the range of a threat, but lightened into something almost... affectionate? with the last statement, "You have my consent."

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

Spock nodded.

And settled his fingers like Earth butterflies, pressure so light they were almost not there, onto Pike's face.

The ritual phrase was spoken softly.

"My mind to your mind."

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Immediately, with a sense of familiarity, Spock was drawn into Pike's mind. It started small, simple, with flickers of voices and images so quick they were impossible to tell. Without a doubt, Spock was being led down a corridor, one with steep sides that undoubtedly would trigger the defenses the younger counterpart had stumbled into.

Let me show you where we began.

It was a place that seemed both similar and different to the Starfleet that Spock knew in this universe. In the center of it all was a very familiar face. The Spock of this memory looked no older then 20, back straight in what looked a great deal more like military fatigues then the Academy's cadet uniforms of this verse or even in the one Spock remembered. Spock was being watched from an angle that suggested the seating arrangement of the room was curving.

It was a half-caught debate occurring below in the pit of the room. An argument of sorts. Memory provided the information that they were listening to the captain of another ship arguing to have 'this green blooded slave' removed from the roster of his ship. Pike knew of the Vulcan that they were speaking of - a half blooded Vulcan-human given second class citizenship and an education.

But no one trusted him farther then he could be thrown.

With the view of his back, Pike could see the leather gloves that covered Spock's hands. A form of invisible handcuffs that Spock was required to wear at all times. Pike doubted for a second that if the half-Vulcan meant any actual harm it wouldn't stop him from ripping open someone's mind. All it took was skin-to-skin contact. The young man had no resemblence to a human at all, but looked perfectly Vulcan. Except for those eyes, ones that currently seemed narrowed in anger.

"...transferred to another ship." The Admiral was just finishing up. Whatever the full statement was threw everyone around into a state of pissed off panic.

"...I wouldn't trust that thing on my ship..."

"...Not for a million credits."

"...thing'll tear apart..."

Pike listened to the fools around him, muling it over as he remained silent. A bit of research before he had come told him that the half-Vulcan had graduated at the top of his class, excelling in the areas of science and even command. He had never stepped a foot out of line, despite what could not have been an easy road to where he was now - trying to get his first assignment.

The fighting continued around him, loud enough to start to annoy him. He leaned back more in his seat, tugging at the brief pull of leather, keeping his eyes glued to the Vulcan. Spock had not moved, in fact he seemed like a statue... except for the faintest tightening of his fists in their parade rest.

What notion urged him to stand was impossible to say, but several people shifted away from him when he did so. His guards behind him stiffened, ready. Pike had his hand on his dagger, just in case.

Then he thinned his lips and whistled as sharply as he could.

The arguing slowed to a halt, and a hundred faces looked to him. Pike looked calmly (with a definitely sense of disgust) over the group, then said in a voice just loud and rich enough to fill the entire area, "I'll take him, if you fools can't see what's right in front of you."

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[iron-command.livejournal.com]

He could see, then, Spock make his first actual move of the meeting. The half-Vulcan slowly turned his head and looked over his shoulder at him. The anger had mostly been replaced with something else, a sort of guarded curiosity, as Spock appeared to examine him from afar.

"...has he gone insane?"

"...maybe old age is starting to get to him-"

"That thing'll rip out his mind while he sleeps."

"Bet you 20 credits he's dead in two days."

"Fifteen extra if he takes out the old bridge crew."

"Its a bet."

Pike waited until the whispering died down before he moved from his seat, slowly walking down the isle and straight to where the young half-Vulcan was. From this distance, he studied Spock, meeting the dark eyes without fear or disgust. No, his mind fully believed him to be in command of the situation. "Spock."

Spock did not shrink back from him, didn't move, and didn't lower his gaze in intimidation as so many young officers would in Pike's presence. The gaze held. "Captain." Spock's tone was devoid of anything than simple respect, not tainted by any irritation, anger, or (worst of all) cockiness.

Re: 2 of 2

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

Fascinating.

Spock's voice is clear inside of Pike's head, no different than his calm external speaking voice. He remained shuttered, his own mental windows and doors battened down but this glimpse of another reality was...

Fascinating, he said again.

As the top student in my class, I had my pick of assignments. I, of course, chose the Enterprise and Captain Pike.

You recognized a powerful tool and plucked at the stirring of his loyalty.

Re: 2 of 2

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

He is a Vulcan, half-blooded or not. Only his mother's blood allowed him to escape the life of a slave and get a formal education, but that didn't stop him from a life of being treated as one. Only fools would miss the signs that he could be something more.

Re: 2 of 2

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

Is he any less a slave to you because you recognized his potential to be more useful in another form and application?

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Vulcans are slaves. They have been since they were conquered. Not inferior, just slaves. Spock was unique. The only human-Vulcan hybrid we'd ever seen. I took him in. That didn't mean I trusted him. Yet...

He proved himself intelligent, useful, and above all else, one of my men instead of anothers. There are reasons I've survived as long as I have, Spock. One of them is keeping the loyalty of those smart enough to stay under my command and mine alone.


The scene changed rapidly.

A trickle, then flood of information. Spock was on his knees, uniform in tatters, a dozen men staring down at him in a rough circle. Viewed from a distance away but close enough to be clear.

"Hasn't Captain Pike taught you a thing, you fucking slave? Worthless mind-raping scum. When you're told to do something, you do it." A handle was pulled out and with a jerk of the man's arm - Commander Dawson of the I.S.S. Armstrong, information crept in - a long glowing flexible beam of energy flared. A whip.

The hum from the energy was clearly heard across the distance, perhaps even louder inside the circle, but Spock didn't move. His hands laced together neatly in front of him, over his unguarded stomach, and he stared intently at the floor. Pike's mind provided a small note that the gloves had been discarded the second the Vulcan had walked onto the ship, as they now sat bared and vunerable.

Pike watched as the whip drew back, then bolted forward. He brought his arm up and bit back a cry of pain so strongly that he bit nearly through his own lip. The whip was curled around his forearm, which was now bleeding quietly heavily from the strike. He opened his eyes and glared death at Dawson, lips parted as the burning got worse by the second. He could smell the reek of his own flesh, hear it sizzling from the energy.

He jerked his arm back, pulling the handle from Dawson's grip. It fell to the ground, and before the energy fully died, Pike had his dagger buried in Dawson's gut.

"...He. is. not. a. slave." Growled in a tone of pure command. "Have I made my point?" And his wrist twisted the dagger.

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[iron-command.livejournal.com]

From the corner of his eyes, he could see a few hasty nods.

"Now get the hell out of my sight." Pike snapped, and they vanished. He jerked the dagger out of Dawson's stomach and stepped back, letting the man fall to the ground.

"Spock, let's go."

Spock stood, finally discarding the rags of his once-uniform shirt to the ground, exposing his bare torso to the chill air. His skin was already marked with some minor abrasions, though they paled in comparison to the whip mark. Those dark eyes glanced at Pike's arm and then up at him--there was some mild surprise. Spock nodded once.

Re: 2 of 2

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

Any mindful owner of a unique piece of property would take pains to protect it. Where is Spock's will in this?

Spock had joined Starfleet because, standing in front of the Elders Council as they informed him of acceptance into the Vulcan Science Academy, highest honors on his name an his father's house, he had known the truth of himself without any room for doubt. To follow that path was to belong to another identity for the rest of his long life - to belong to anyone as he submitted to their expectations of him: brilliant, cold, as barren as Vulcan's Forge at high noon.

Now he belonged only to the people, places, and things which he himself had freely chosen.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

There was no doubt of Spock's loyalty from that moment.

Spock's mind would be inundated with images, feelings, memories. Flickers of the two of them working together, the first rushed, brutal kiss that pressed up hard against the bulkhead of the Captain's quarters, the subsequent learnings of sex between them - a line of trust the captain of a ship in that universe rarely crossed.

[sehlatbear.livejournal.com]

There is satisfaction in that, at least and at last. A Spock making his own place in the way that he has determined to be the most logical way.

You are lovers.

Stating what is now obvious, not simply sex for the sake of domination, though there is that as well, hot between this Pike and that Spock, and a certain mutually satisfactory cruelty.

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[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Can monsters feel such things?

The scene changed..

It was dark, but far from silent. The tiny sounds that came from the body against him, the burning flesh under his bare hands. The meeting of mouths, burning hot to cold, the grind of flesh on flesh. Moving in the low lights, pulling Spock's wrist to his mouth, and tonguing the scars there. Scars made by his own hand. A branding done by the knife, his own marking, making Spock his and his alone.

A hitch of breath, a near gasp, the skin always sensitive after he had marked the skin so deeply. Fingers dug into his shoulder, and dragged over the front, and then down his side. Teeth scraped his collar bone. Sex was rarely gentle between them, but despite their much aggressive existence, it was always charged. The single moment of release of their positions, the constant wary existence, just being able to be without the weight of everything else around them, the constant threat of death at every turn.

It was the only time other then a shower that Pike would remove the gloves that had made him into something so fierce.

And Spock always enjoyed taking advantage of that opening in times like these. The hand running down his side caught his hand, hot fingers interlaced with his, a hot palm pressed against the inside of his hand. A brief jolt of thoughts, none of them particularly coherent, but all flavoured with the same lust.

Spock's strength was always something tested but never abused. Something long since settled between them without the need of words or threat. They knew. If Spock pushed too far, Pike would not hesitate to use the gloves on him or some other form of punishment. 'Too far' had not yet happened. It was a flex of that strength that pulled him up from where he was laying on his back to their positions being reversed. His body was stretched out over top of Spock's, still lost in their battle of bites and sucks and scrapings of teeth.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Spock arched up against him, skin aflame as his. One leg came up to wrap around the back of his hip, keeping him close, almost pinned, while he clutched at his hand. His free hand came up, sliding through his hair, pulling him into a fierce kiss. Their positions were irrelevant; when Spock wanted a little piece of control, and there was no reason for Pike to refuse him, he took it.

And Pike allowed it. The Spock watching his memories could see no immediate anger at being controlled for a moment, in fact desiring it. In here, this moment, they were equals.

Pike would never see the man that tried to kill him until it resolved. One minute they were burning for each other, then suddenly, he hit the floor with a thud and there was a sharp-cold pain in his already scarred arm. He looked up as he heard a thud, his other hand already coming up and pressing over the heavily bleeding wound on his arm.

Spock hauled up some figure from the floor, and there was the grate of an open air conditioner vent against the wall--possibly from where the assassin had orginated from. There was a mild struggle, a flailing about of human limbs in dark clothing, and then Spock grabbed at the man's neck, and the body dropped lifelessly to the ground. For good measure, perhaps to give him optimum room for his next course of action, Spock kicked it from the bedside into the middle of the room.

But he didn't go to deal with the prepetrator just yet. He came over to Pike, kneeling down beside him, brows furrowed together in worry and something bordering on anger. His hands were gentle despite the tension in his body, sliding under his injured arm, fingertips gracing over his skin, over the scars leftover from the whip...until it paused over the fresh wound, the line of red blood. His entire body still, and he exhaled a growl, and from their direct contact, Pike could feel the blood-lust flaring, the overprotectiveness that meant someone was going to die tonight.