The Past Remembered - The Brand

[mirroredcommand]

[OOC: This occurs during the year 2253. The year that Pike and Spock left from was 2263, so this was ten years ago. They were only bonded five years ago, to put things into perspective.]

It was not even a full year into their five year mission, but already things had become interesting with his young crew. They desired to rise in the ranks with more urgency then older crews, say the one he had left behind on the I.S.S. Yorktown, but they were young fools without realizing the consequences of having little to no experience in not only the possible new rank, but even in the ways of assassination. Several weak attempts had already been made for his life, but they had been easily dealt with early on. Now things had settled and they were all dealing with their newly acquired positions or grumbling about the failures they had suffered.

There were four in particular that still concerned him, and Pike was keeping the closest eyes on them. The first was his helmsman, Hikaru Sulu. The young man was brilliant in his abilities in flight, absolutely ruthless, but he would not leave alone any young lady that walked onto the bridge. The second was his navigator, the scruffy haired child who was the youngest on his ship. Chekov seemed innocent, but was anything but. He was a silent assassin, vicious and very good at what he did. Pike still couldn't find the body of the person he had originally chosen to be his alpha navigator. Nyota Uhura was dangerous. She was one of the few women to reach as high as she had without sleeping with anyone; she just killed anyone who was in her way. They were often found in their beds, and it often involved a lot of blood.

Then there was Spock, the last of his crew that he was dealing with more often then expected. He heard the constant rumors about 'the Vulcan' on their crew. People were afraid of him, even as they tried to hide it with false bravado. He had taken a shine to the young Vulcan he had bent over the console on the bridge his first day and proven to the crew he had no fear of those who, as rumors put it, 'could turn his mind to mush and drink it through a straw.'

Spock was his, chosen by him when everyone else was too foolish to see possibility. He had been forced to defend Spock on several occasions, most without Spock knowing he had stepped in. One attempt already included a small group who decided to take care of the 'green-blood' on their ship. It had been all too recently that he had been forced to step up and defend Spock in a more physical manner, to prove his point. Spock was a part of his crew, and despite the rumors passing between ships and across Starfleet, was not a slave.

The flesh around his right arm was still tender, itching and burning alternatively despite the incident having happened just over a month ago. It was an ugly reminder of the whip that had curled around his forearm and burned through the skin to the bone. McCoy's skilled hands had been part of fixing it, but also Spock's diligence in making up for the marks by helping him to tend it. Pike was surprised to realize he had begun to trust the young science officer.

He had brought Spock to his rooms more then once a week for a while now, mostly enjoying the mix of resentment and almost puppy-like devotion that came from the half-Vulcan and teaching him the base pleasures of pain and sex. It was almost impossible to find such a raw mass of possible talent that had no molding what so ever, and he had it in one convenient package. He sent the boy back to his own quarters each night, unless he planned to keep Spock trussed up for the entire night.

Pike looked across the room to the collection of leather, metal, and toys he had in mostly plain sight. The weaponry that crossed the walls was more vivid, but the collection was impressive that he allowed it to be displayed. When he wanted to enjoy someone, even more so when they were going to fight back, he wanted to always have something appropriate on hand to deal with them. In fact, the more they fought, the better it often was. Spock had gone back to his bed with no end of marks on his wrists, ankles, neck, and elsewhere.

Tonight, he had yet to decide what he would do with the young Vulcan. The possibilities were endless, and he had yet to find the limits of how far he could push the boy.

Comments

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

"Good," Pike whispered the praise, a mixture of praise and punishment that worked so well on the Vulcan. "If you move your hands to stop me, I will restrain them." It was a challenge for Spock as much as a command.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

The praise acted on Spock with almost the same intensity as Pike's fearless touch. A sound tried to rise in his chest and he stifled it.

Instead, Spock twisted his fingers securely in the fabric of the bedding, the rasp of it a pleasure in and of itself. The restraints were effective but Spock wanted more, this time at least, to demonstrate his own will, the power of his own choices.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

One glass ball was chosen, curled in his fingertips as his thumb rubbed across the entrance hole that pulled into it. He turned on the heating device, scenting the brief electrical burn in the air, then slid it within. They relied on very simple means, using the differences in pressure to create a vacuum within. When it was sufficient, the ball was slid directly to the back of Spock's neck and held in place. It would keep Spock from lifting his head again, and would leave a distinctive round bruise right beneath the high collar of Spock's shirts.

"Remain still." His voice was rich in the silence, watching Spock's skin draw up and blood rush to the site just beneath the ball. The greening proto-bruise was distorted through the glass.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Intellectually, he had known what to expect. As with so many other things he had allowed Pike to do to him, the experience of it was entirely more.

The first was a simple tingling suction. His skin stretched tight and his blood pulsed strongly, bruised him rapidly, not unlike the sucking bites that sometimes marred Spock's skin when he returned to his own rooms. This was a constant feeling, though, one that did not abate, did not sit back to admire. His sense of his back, particularly as Pike placed another of the glass spheres, became a heightened, focused thing - all of his attention on what would come next, where the next would be placed.

It solidified an idea in his mind. After, he would discuss it after.

Now, he spread his thighs a little to settle his erection more comfortably and, as another bit of suction was applied, whined high and soft in the back of his throat.

((OOC - I tried PMing you but nothing seems to be working, argh. I got your message but I don't know if my response went through. Do you have my email address? That might be more effective until LJ starts working again.

Eta: kirktastic asked me to tell you she also responded but isn't sure you got it since PMs don't seem to be working!))

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Each ball was placed carefully, replicating a pattern only Pike could see in his mind. Only when the last of ten had been placed on Spock's body did Pike move. He stood up, a foot to either side of Spock and steady on the bed, staring down at his creation.

There was one at the back of Spock's neck, five down the length of his spine, one just above either buttock, and one just below either buttock. He made a small sound, pleased with his work, and shifted himself off of the bed. He took the last two glass balls and walked around to Spock's front. "...Your hands. Place them flat, palms down."

[OOC: I have received yours and kirktastic's! Have neither of you received mine? I will leave her a comment on her latest journal entry perhaps to speak with her, and yours I will place here below our current thread. You may respond, and before we make this thread live, I will make sure all extra comments are deleted.]

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Spock whimpered, face buried in a pillow. The sensation had him shifting just to feel the slight pull of his own skin, mild discomfort, pressure.

But he did as instructed.

"What--"

He interrupted his own words to savor a long, rippling shudder.

"What do you want from me, Captain?"

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

The shudder passed through Spock's body, allowing Pike to watch the undulation of the glass attached to his skin. "I want you to stay very, very still." Pike commanded, moving up to glide his fingertips across Spock's hands in a ghosting motion, only the barest pressure of skin on skin.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

The urge to thrash at the feather-teasing touch was a storm. But he controlled it with a bare whimper - Pike liked his noises and Spock wished to give them to him.

Instead, Spock stilled himself, as he had been taught. Icy calm always at the core, glassy surface never broken, always still, always smooth. His breathing evened out, his musscles relaxed.

Spock obeyed.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

"Good..." It was only a breathed sound of encouragement. Pike slid a ball to rest against either of Spock's hands, then palmed one. He started to heat it up, right before Spock's eyes. "You will watch every moment, and you will not turn away." He set the edge of the hole against skin, nested it completely, and watched the skin start to be drawn upwards.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

Pike always made him watch. Spock blinked up at him, eyes heated, pupils dilated, and then turned his gaze to follow his captain's movements. He hissed through clenched teeth as the glass bell was applied to the sensitive skin of his hand but managed to maintain his stillness and quiet.

This slow, drugging surrender was, Spock admitted to himself in the privacy of his mind, why he returned even as he disgusted himself by wanting the human.

There was a clarity, a singular focus granted to him in these moments and Spock knew his place in the universe, not just on the ship.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

The process was repeated on the other hand, slower. Pike stepped back from his work, eyes drifting the length of Spock's body, before testing the grip each ball had on the flesh. The ones on Spock's hands would be the only two visible to the rest of the ship once Spock left the room.

He bent over, mouthing near a pulled up section of flesh, then bit at the clean line of the shoulder. "Tell me." As long as Spock had no vocal impediment, and that was rare in of itself as Pike preferred to hear every sound, he would always ask for Spock to tell him what he was feeling. It was not as if he did not already know, but he wanted to hear it forced into reality, shaped by voice and lips.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

He had spent so much of his life silent that vocalizing was a greater challenge almost than submitting. The words stumbled out, interrupted by sharp inhales at the tiniest of movements and a yearning, thready whine that crept in when he exhaled.

"It is rather more intense than expected. A sensation which builds over time. I wish to move, to escape it."

Or to thrust against the bed until he reached some form of satisfaction - but he would not say that. Pike might, in the spirit of perversity, allow it and cheat Spock of his greater craving.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

Pike looked across the room to the clock, then breathed to Spock's ear, "Five minutes like this, then you will flip over and we will make a matching set on the other side." Tonight was less about pain and more about the act of submitting. Would Spock submit to allowing the same markings on the palms of his hands? There was more than one way to have someone bare their throat, ones that did not involve blood. There was a distinct, perverse enjoyment of it in its subtly.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

The palms of his hands were even more sensitive. The thought, combined with Pike's breath on his ear had Spock burying his face back in the pillow. He looked back up, met Pike's gaze with his own before nodding his consent.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

The five minutes passed, but not idly. His hands were a constant, roving pleasure across Spock's skin. He made sure to touch where it would be considered the most sensitive, places such as around the base of each glass ball where it drew on the skin, the backs of the knee, the curve of the buttocks, the prominent bone of the back of the ankle. It would all serve to reduce the Vulcan to a shivering, whimpering mess spread across his bed.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

He was definitely shivering, minute tremors of muscle held under the strictest control he could manage.

Spock counted the five minutes in his head, breathing in a meditative rhythm. He had withstood more pain in this room before but the slightness of this was almost worse.

Pike's touches could not be predicted - Spock bit his lip around a moan as a finger trailed up the back of his calf.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

It was almost as if Pike could sense it, and repeated the gesture. The greatest pleasure was in getting those sounds past Spock's control and tight lips.

He chose the lowest of the glass globes first, the ones at the top of Spock's thighs. He held the ball in one hand, then used the pad of his thumb to start working the flesh out of its vacuum seal. When the ball was rolled free, left behind was a rather large marking of deep emerald skin that looked almost like a huge burn, or a blister. It was raised, angry, and almost burning hot to the touch.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

His lips were green where Spock had bitten too hard and drawn his own blood, which smeared on Pike's pillow. But the release of the suction pressure was finally enough to draw sounds from him - Spock whimpered at the initial release and again at the thumb across the sensitive, raised flesh.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

"Only eleven more times," The voice was low, nearly seductive, further drawing Spock down into the pit Pike was opening for him. Each globe was released in turn, minus the one on either hand. Only when a decorative display of large, emerald markings were on display across Spock's back did Pike take time to enjoy them all.

He placed his palms over the lowest and moved his way up the length of Spock's back, cupping each large welt in turn, drifting the pad of a finger around the edge of each, bending over to press his lips against one to feel the extreme heat rising from it.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

If Spock had been in an analytic frame of mind - and part of his mind was almost always in that frame - he would have been surprised at how quickly Pike had acheived his goal. Instead, Spock was occupied attempting and failing to restrain his own whimpers at the touches to his overly sensitive flesh. The command had been to remain very still but he could not prevent the shudders that rippled over him as Pike reached the welt at the back of his neck.

Spock was not certain he could maintain his composure through a repeat of this treatment.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

This shattering of composure is exactly what Pike desired. He would draw it out of Spock, touch by touch, moment by moment, until he saw it come. His lips brushed the welt on the back of Spock's neck as he spoke, "Turn over." Pike lifted himself up, giving Spock just enough room to turn over. The sheets would surely be a whole new sensation for the sensitive skin now on Spock's back.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

His breath was a deep rasp as Spock turned, settled his welted skin against the sheets - not so rough as those in his own quarters, which were going to feel like fine abrasives if he were sent back tonight.

It was impossible to watch Pike and remain still. Spock closed his eyes tightly, concentrated once again on his breathing. His cock was full and hard and exposed but he did not cover himself. Spock sank himself further into his own sense of focus, his own desire to acquiesce to his captain and, at last, managed to open his eyes.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

"Better." It was a single word offered as a reward for something done right. Pike stared at Spock's body, a butcher carefully mapping the fine cuts of a steak, looking for the design he would lay on this side of Spock's body. He ignored the hardened flesh that was seeking his touch, drawing out the experience for them both.

[mirroredspock.livejournal.com]

It was easier to think, having caught his breath, though the sensations were still feeding in from his excited nerve endings.

Pike found him visually appealing. And submission did not mean that Spock was entirely without his own will, still. He had opted not to act in a provocative, for a Vulcan, fashion earlier upon making his choice. But it was logical to provide a demonstration now.

Spock stretched, toes pointed and arms above his head, pressed flat to the headboard. His long, angular body was spare, lean - he was still very young for a Vulcan and had only just begun to fill out more. Lean, but long and pale and displaying himself, each bunch and extension of arms and legs.

He caught and held Pike's possessive gaze. And offered the barest of smiles, the merest uptilt to the corners of his mouth.

[iron-command.livejournal.com]

The Vulcan knew he had captured his interest. It gave Spock power, and Spock was intelligent enough to use it even if only subtly. It was a part of why Pike continually asked Spock to return, because the play of power that lay between them. It was almost delicate, and perhaps in a way, binding.

"Have to remove that smile from your face." He rumbled as he leaned down, grasping Spock's chin. For tonight, it was only an idle threat. It was not always so idle.