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.

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[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.