In the After Time

[mirroredcommand]

After Jim and his Spock had left, Pike retreated into himself somewhat. He settled back into the chair he had left, his eyes closing and hand cupping his chin. Much had happened and been learned in a very short amount of time, some that had changed his very knowledge of not only this universe and their situation, but the people involved.

Kirk. That was a surprise in all of itself. Instead of the annoyed brat with a huge ego and a surprising sense of ruthless, charm, and intelligence to back it up, he was meeting someone he almost could respect. There was a keen sense of intelligence behind those golden eyes, tactile and strong, though obviously naive in certain cases. Even that naivety seemed protected by the knowledge of being aware of it. A most strange situation, but it came together in someone that in their universe, he would have considered a truly enemy.

Instead, he found himself surprised in the sense of having enjoyed himself within the limiting concerns of circumstance. There was a play between himself and Kirk that was as intricate as the game of chess that had been played out. Pike's eyes opened to focus on the board before him, pieces assembled off to either side. White, and black, with no shades of gray. He had found himself without another move, unable to win. Yet Kirk had been in the same circumstance. Both trapped, unable to make another move to win.

How very much like life.

Then, there was Spock. So similar to his own, yet vastly different. Shades of gray, indeed. He was curious to what had occurred during that mind meld that had drawn such reactions from his own bond mate, curious about the differences that were far more difficult to see. The relationship between the two men was unlike their own, forged in a vastly different way, but with the same purpose behind it.

He looked to his own Spock, who looked both thoughtful and tense to his knowing eyes and inner-sense brimming over from the bond between them. There had been a sense of dodging, avoidance, that he wanted to know the truth of.

"Spock."

Comments

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

In these moments, he lived for Christopher's praise. He moaned around the cock in his mouth, moaned into his mate's mind.

The grip in his hair was painful but his body perceived it as just another sensation, another bit of sensory input pushing him deeper into a submissive state, reveling in the way his lover used him.

He would suck harder, do whatever it took, but just like that echoed in his mind and restrained him better than any high-security restraints would have been able.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

There was a double pleasure in being able to fuck Spock's mouth, rocking into pulling pressure and out again with only the desire to return again. He let words spill from his mouth, talking with control as he gave constant encouragement, phrases that could have been insults but they both knew better.

His grip loosened only a moment so that the edges of his thumbs could brush Spock's ears, then drop down so they could dig into the space between his jaws and keep them open so he could use that familiar mouth.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

It was all sensory input - Christopher's voice burning over him, the words did not matter.

Though they did - it was like ritual now.

He settled himself, opened his mouth, all pliant, unthinking heat for Christopher's pleasure.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Only when he was on that very brink, right at its edge, did Pike release his grip on Spock's head and shift back completely, denying himself, denying Spock as well. He stared down at Spock with eyes that were all pupil, panting.

He hooked an arm under the hips and drew them up, sliding down in the sand and taking Spock into his mouth. His fingers curled around the bond, and for a moment, he wondered if it was possible to drag Spock over to those other cords and affect more then just himself.

The idea was incredibly tempting.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

The continued stroking of the bond and the pressure of Christopher's mouth carried him both further and more quickly than he would have expected - if he had been thinking about it. He made broken noises and his hands scrambled on the ground seeking purchase, something to grip to alleviate the pressure building underneath his skin.

He caught a glimmer of Christopher's idea and one of his cries sounded like a sob. Everyone would know - or at least his counterparts. They would feel it and know that he had no control of his own, that it was all his lover, all his mate, all Christopher.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

You will back up. It would bring Spock right onto that tangle of threads. He wanted to prove it, show it, like the lion's roar, to impress upon each mind. Spock was his, and his alone.

He brought his head back, eyes narrowed. Command.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Another broken sobbing sound, but it is not of protest. Spock quivers where he is for a moment and, after a breath, pushes himself back against the tangle.

He wails.

There is no other sound for it - the threads feel like they are cutting him, the same slice and burn of his brand and he would wonder if he will bear marks from this if he had the power to wonder anything anymore.

Everything is Christopher, his mate, his.

T'hy'la. Say you are.

He shifts and the tangled bonds feel stronger under his shoulders, not nearly so fragile as they were even when James T. Kirk's Spock was there examining them. Stronger with use, then.

Say you are my t'hy'la, as I am yours.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Pike looked down silently over Spock, staring. He smirked, and spoke clear and calm despite the slight grind downwards. He splayed his fingers into the bonds beneath them.

I am your t'hy'la.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

The scream catches in his throat, just as much full of fire and sharp things as the bonds at his back, the threads in Christopher's fingers.

He bucks up, Vulcan strength unrestrained but not seeking to unseat his lover - seeking instead to find the desperate pressure and contact that he needs, must have before he is a flayed mass of vibrating lyre strings and nothing left behind.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, this would hurt. He didn't care. Pike lifted a long leg and spat into his hand. He rubbed over his cock and grasped himself, and in an anything-but-smooth motion pressed hard into his bond mate, growling deeply as the pressure forces against that bucking body.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

This time the scream broke free.

It would not seriously injure him. But he would bleed.

There was a satisfaction to that - he would bleed whenever his mate required it, in whatever way necessary.

In another universe, it could be observed, that this sort of devotion was unhealthy - though not entirely unbalanced by Christopher's own devotion. But in their world... In their world, they were each the closet thing to safe haven that existed for the other.

So Spock bent, pulled his legs further apart to make more room for his mate's body. His back bent, arching away from the bonds in time with Christopher's thrusts before he was pressed back into them.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

It was raw, their bodies moving together from long memory. Pike bent his head down to bite onto Spock's shoulder, body moving in a way that would leave him sore if it was his real body.

For all that Pike seemed to own Spock, he was no less owned.

His fingers curled further into the bonds, digging into them, making sure Spock's body came into contact with them over and over.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

They would still feel it, Spock deep enough in the thrall of sensation that he unconsciously manifested their actions onto their bodies, writhing hotly on their bed - not their own bed but good enough in the meantime.

He whined and panted and screamed at every touch of the bonds, close now, suddenly perched on the very edge of his orgasm.

May I? Let me, Christopher, please.

Nothing without permission.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Pike held it, held Spock's orgasm in his hands and words, for seconds that seemed like eternity. He pressed in harder with each thrust, a drop of sweat dripping down onto his bond mate. His fingers wrapped hard around Spock's cock, squeezing once then giving a firm stroke.

Scream for me. The words pure agreement, pure permission, allowance.

Allowance for himself as well.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

His scream echoed down the bonds, release and relief and white-hot pleasure, his body in a rictus of obedient sensation and response.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Pike's quiet sound was lost in his bond mate's scream, but his pleasure added to the burst that pulsed out across the bonds. He held hard to the bonds, pressed in as close to his mate as he could be.

Until his head lowered, pressing his forehead to Spock's shoulder, panting.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Spock collapsed, letting Christopher's weight press him further into the bonds, flatter against the ground.

He spared a brief sympathetic thought for his counterparts who would have been subjected to this but he had little energy for that when he felt so thoroughly mated to Christopher as he had not since pon farr had left Christopher broken.

The Vulcan words were in his mind, a vague impression stirred by the other memories of Vulcan that had settled into place on their own. They drifted out before he even realized they were forming.

I cherish thee.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Those words. They broke the sense of relaxation that came with the proud need of domination fed along with the mixture of sedation from orgasm. They were words unlike any he had heard spoken by his bond mate in the past.

To cherish something meant a weakness, something that could be struck out and destroyed. The formal phrasing, which took a moment to realize the thought came in High Vulcan, was nearly as strange as what the words actually meant. An emotion, a feeling, something that was supposed to be repressed yet... had he not always told Spock to allow them? Hypocritical of himself.

It was enough that Pike broke the meld, with a sure sense as if a Vulcan were doing it and not a human that should have no ability to do so at all. This was a human changed, altered by the man he was mated to forever. Perhaps no longer fully human. But then, neither was Spock.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Christopher's shock was evident and Spock came back to himself, still sprawled across his mate, with a profound sense of unease. He had no intended to speak the formal Vulcan words, the only ones allowed to express the significance of the bond between mates. But he could not call the words back - Christopher had heard them and they must be dealt with.

He moved to the side, controlled a wince that never made it to his face at the pain. He was bleeding.

Spock retreated. It was necessary, of course, so that he might tend to his own injury as well as possible. But it was a retreat - he was unable to meet Christopher's eyes. There was no sense of rejection through the bond but his mate's confusion was overwhelming.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Pike remained seated on the bed, staring down at his wrist. It was smudged with blood, the cut as clean as if it had been done by a knife. They had been outside of their bodies, but their bodies had still reacted.

What had that meld with Jim's Spock done to his own to change him? Things had surely been changed, as so many things would not have been kicked up in the last few hours alone as they had been without that other Spock's interference.

Yet those words. They were true, and though without the same words to be used, they were true in reverse. It was always disturbing to realize something so unknown about one's self.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Spock was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire for the bathroom door to open onto his own room, his own spartan quarters on their own ship in their own universe. There, he knew the rules and boundaries. Knew what was expected of him and what could reasonably be allowed. Here, it was all vagueness and unsureness. He and Christopher had been comfortable together for years and he had never felt the need to proclaim that Christopher was his chosen mate in the old ways. A day here? A day here and Spock was making declarations in almost-forgotten High Vulcan.

He cleaned himself. There was nothing in the bathroom to speed his healing and he did not trust the mild painkillers available from the replicator. He would simply ignore the discomfort of a dry fucking. It would not be the first time, though it had been a very long time.

To remain hidden away was illogical. He kept his gaze averted however, as he exited the bathroom to offer a hot damp washcloth to his lover. He had tended to such tasks himself before, to their equal pleasure, but he needed more space than that - if Christopher was going to berate him, Spock could not take that while performing such an intimate service.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

For several seconds there was no movement at all from the captain, until his head tilted just slightly as if noticing the offered item just then. Without word, he reached out and took it, cleaning himself with slow motions, the air about him one of deep thought.

What was he to expect? Further, ongoing changes in his bond mate? Was it this universe that was changing them both? To where he had enjoyed the company of Kirk, who displayed traits of obvious weakness yet did not encourage the desire to destroy him? To where Spock had questioned the strength of their bond? To where Spock had, in turn, had felt the need or instinct to say what had never needed to be said before?

To where he, himself, was thinking such thoughts?

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Do you wish privacy?

He could return to the bathroom. Their close quarters here limited their options but....

I apologize for giving offense.

It is a return to the stiff formality that has always been his refuge when he realizes that he truly is powerless in a given situation. It is the same pride that straightened his back and prevented him from shouting at the assembled officers that he was not a mindless beast who would rip their minds from them - he was a graduate of the Academy in search of position and advancement as any other graduate was.

He had ceded his control to Christopher more thoroughly than ever before, in the meld, in the most defenseless place he possessed. But it was only now that he was completely in Christopher's power. He shivered a little, a chill to the room he had not noticed before.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

In a way that was outside of his normal manners, Pike said nothing at all. His thumb, covered by the glove covered by the washcloth, wiped blood from his wrist. There was nothing he could say to those words. Spock had given an offense, a strong one, as punishing as a stab to the heart. It was not one that Pike was used to at all.

Spock had doubted him. Not his words, not an idea, not a notion. Had doubted him, and what lay between them. What had become something sure in a universe where things often were far from sure.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

His silence was uncharacteristic. Christopher had never hidden his feelings from Spock before.

You did not believe I would come for you.

That was its own knife, lodged in his side.

You did not believe I would come for you and that...

He cannot complete it, even as a thought but the sense was clear.

Spock had been afraid. Moved to more fear than he had known he could feel, in places he had not known existed inside of himself. Afraid that Christopher would replace him because Christopher did not trust Spock to find him.