Bonds Know No Distance
Sep. 10th, 2009 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mirroredcommandThe night was dark and deep and long in space, never ending, without a dawn to break the line between waking and sleep, day and night, beginning and end. It made existence endless, broken only by the silent running of the clocks on the wall, the movements of work, food, and sleep. Without these things, without the sureness of a schedule, time became meaningless. Even the stars could not keep him company.
So after Kirk came and 'visited', time resumed its endless patterns, moving on and on without pause or break or concept. For a man used to near-constant action, it was a form of torture more exquisite then any bit of pain or distress. More then anything, it was a torture that gave him nothing to focus his mind on anything but the swelling pain of the broken bond. It was swiftly becoming over whelming, completely and utterly. There was nothing left to keep the pain away, and with his shields designed only to block out Spock's light intrusions instead of a full on force, they were failing after being buffeted for so long. In short, he was going mad.
His expression showed little of the internal war except for the strong brow being furrowed and the age-lines at the edges of the eyes and corners of the mouth looking thicker. It was his hands that gave him away, gripping fiercely into the fabric of the bed he was reclining on. A headache was throbbing behind his eyes in time with his heart, a thick red-hot band of light that was searing like a knife into his mind. Deeper, deeper with every beat of his heart.
Every part of him was focused on maintaining the failing shields, rebuilding them as Spock had taught him those years ago. He had survived torture from Vulcans who knew precisely what to do in the mind, but could not stop this. This bond that had been forced onto him but in the end welcomed, this bond that had saved his life many times in the past, that had saved the life of his first officer and friend, this bond that had been a respite from a world where one could never relax... this bond was killing him. It would destroy him as surely as any blade to the heart.
SPOCK!
Never screamed aloud, never aloud. Instead, strong white teeth bit firmly into his lip, hard enough to send a trickle of crimson along his chin, down to his jawline. The pain, the strain, had been steadily increasing since James Kirk's visit to his cell, as if the reminder of the bond and speaking of it had started a chain reaction. He had long since started to keep his eyes closed [was it hours? minutes? weeks? centuries?] because at least this way the room would not spin. He was starting to feel that same spinning in his mind, making his world wobble like a child's toy.
It seemed hours passed this way. A day? Perhaps. He vaguely heard someone calling him, but did not dare respond. Still trapped in the arms of the enemy, he could not let a weakness be seen. The smell of food made his stomach swell and gurgle, but not from hunger. It felt like his entire body needed one thing it could not have. [a universe away]
He did not feel when he stood, instead he felt the world sway, go sideways. Could not feel the floor beneath his feet, the slap of his hand against the wall in an instinctual attempt to keep himself upright. Did not feel when the world tuned him out, blew him out like a light bulb, did not feel when the pain consumed him and his shields finally fell, did not feel when he hit the ground.
The darkness had claimed him instead.
So after Kirk came and 'visited', time resumed its endless patterns, moving on and on without pause or break or concept. For a man used to near-constant action, it was a form of torture more exquisite then any bit of pain or distress. More then anything, it was a torture that gave him nothing to focus his mind on anything but the swelling pain of the broken bond. It was swiftly becoming over whelming, completely and utterly. There was nothing left to keep the pain away, and with his shields designed only to block out Spock's light intrusions instead of a full on force, they were failing after being buffeted for so long. In short, he was going mad.
His expression showed little of the internal war except for the strong brow being furrowed and the age-lines at the edges of the eyes and corners of the mouth looking thicker. It was his hands that gave him away, gripping fiercely into the fabric of the bed he was reclining on. A headache was throbbing behind his eyes in time with his heart, a thick red-hot band of light that was searing like a knife into his mind. Deeper, deeper with every beat of his heart.
Every part of him was focused on maintaining the failing shields, rebuilding them as Spock had taught him those years ago. He had survived torture from Vulcans who knew precisely what to do in the mind, but could not stop this. This bond that had been forced onto him but in the end welcomed, this bond that had saved his life many times in the past, that had saved the life of his first officer and friend, this bond that had been a respite from a world where one could never relax... this bond was killing him. It would destroy him as surely as any blade to the heart.
SPOCK!
Never screamed aloud, never aloud. Instead, strong white teeth bit firmly into his lip, hard enough to send a trickle of crimson along his chin, down to his jawline. The pain, the strain, had been steadily increasing since James Kirk's visit to his cell, as if the reminder of the bond and speaking of it had started a chain reaction. He had long since started to keep his eyes closed [was it hours? minutes? weeks? centuries?] because at least this way the room would not spin. He was starting to feel that same spinning in his mind, making his world wobble like a child's toy.
It seemed hours passed this way. A day? Perhaps. He vaguely heard someone calling him, but did not dare respond. Still trapped in the arms of the enemy, he could not let a weakness be seen. The smell of food made his stomach swell and gurgle, but not from hunger. It felt like his entire body needed one thing it could not have. [a universe away]
He did not feel when he stood, instead he felt the world sway, go sideways. Could not feel the floor beneath his feet, the slap of his hand against the wall in an instinctual attempt to keep himself upright. Did not feel when the world tuned him out, blew him out like a light bulb, did not feel when the pain consumed him and his shields finally fell, did not feel when he hit the ground.
The darkness had claimed him instead.
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no subject
Date: 2009-09-21 12:25 am (UTC)This would change things.
But right now, it passed sensation through both of them, amplified and echoed.
Spock did not know where the limits of his body and mind were.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-21 12:56 pm (UTC)Spock held the highest command he could under Pike that would have been denied to him because of his blood and Pike had made it very clear that if anyone dared to remove Spock by force he would never make them his first officer or anything other then dead. Together they led a ship that got fame, excitement, and exploration more then any other ship in the fleet. Pike might never have made it as long as he did without his own personal bodyguard that could never betray him. And together, they had what few others had in their universe. A very strange but certain happiness.
Pike lost himself completely, uncaring of the limits that were removed between them. Only physical flesh kept them from being a single entity and even that was not providing much of a barrier. Over and over he thrust, hands leaving marks on pallid flesh and receiving them in return, head pressed into strong sensitive fingers with his eyes closed.
One.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-21 01:15 pm (UTC)But something motivated Spock to bring his other hand to Christopher's face, to trail over his lover's tense features for the simple, tactile pleasure of it.
It left him, them, vulnerable to turn all of his attention on Christopher in this fashion but for once it did not matter.
He used the bond to send extra ripples of pleasure along Christopher's nerve endings.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-21 01:21 pm (UTC)Pike let his mind sink down into Spock's, losing his own sense of self and reveling in the place-self-sense-soul that was created because of it. A physical release was secondary as it came, but it shot through them both as brilliant as a sun and even hotter.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-21 02:03 pm (UTC)What did freedom mean in the face of this?
Nothing.
He cradled his mate, mind and body.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-21 02:08 pm (UTC)Pike let his head rest against Spock's lower chest, pulling free and uncaring of the mess, simply closing his eyes and drifting peacefully. Soon they would have to wake and deal with the outside world, but for now they could at least rest before facing it all head on.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-21 03:15 pm (UTC)They would need another shower. And the console still emitted a quiet beep at regular intervals - there must be a message.
But for now, Spock relaxed and held his mate. A most... satisfactory reunion.