The BLTS Archive - The Mirror Universe: Tied by Acidqueen (a.q@gmx.de) --- Comment: This story plays right after "Mirror, Mirror", and all main characters are drawn quite unfriendly, so be warned! Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom own Star Trek, I own my brain. No infringement intended, no money being made. All original content is (c) 2002 Acidqueen. Archive: My own website, ASCEM, all others ask, please. Acknowledgement: Thanks to Janet for beta'ing, even though it was not really her preferred reading :) All remaining errors are mine! --- Kirk leaned on the balustrade of the Halkan Council Building and looked over the capital. In the distance black smoke rose into the darkening sky indicated the areas where the Empire's phasers had pulverized some administration buildings and military posts. It had taken so little to make them give up their resistance and capitulate... "I have to admit, it's a nice place," he said, as he heard the smooth steps of his second-in-command behind him. "It would have been completely erased if we had proceeded according to our prime directives," Spock said emotionlessly. "Indeed," Kirk replied and turned around, leaning back onto his elbows on the rail. He eyed the bearded Vulcan who stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back. "It would have been a loss, but I still wonder why you suggested to divert from our usual proceedings." "This world would have suffered a decrease in production power by the destruction of their capital," the Vulcan stated passionlessly. "It was only logical to convince them with minimal effort. Now they will be able to pay twice the tributes to the Empire previously estimated, besides the amount of Dilithium we saved from annihilation." "The Empire will be pleased, and they better be, otherwise we'll run into some problems." A faint smile played on Kirk's lips. "But for now, let's go to the big state diner they set up for us. Another interesting side effect of our unusual tactics." He pushed himself away from the balcony's edge, straightening his golden shirt for the best fit, before he passed the Vulcan and went inside. McCoy and Scott awaited them at the foot of the main stairs, flanked by some security men. "Diner's set up," Scott said with a wave of his hands towards the high, decorated double door at the end of the corridor. "They're waiting for us like obedient dogs wait for their owners," he added smugly. "That's how I like it," Kirk said with a lopsided grin and entered the hall, his officers on his heels. It would be an evening just the way he liked it. --- When they rematerialized on the Enterprise again, Kirk was momentarily relieved that another interchange had not taken place. He felt quite satisfied, and decided that now he would take care of the last open points. "Mr. Spock, Mr. Scott, you're dismissed," he said when he had stepped down the platform. Both men nodded and left with their personal guards. McCoy raised a brow. "Doctor..." Kirk said and stepped closer to his CMO, lightly placing his hand on the bony shoulder. "What about a goodnight drink in my quarters?" he asked seductively. "Well, Captain," McCoy said slowly, searching the face of his commanding officer for a moment, "sounds like a fine idea." The right edge of his mouth curved upwards in an unsure grin. "Then let's go," Kirk said lightheartedly. "It'd be a shame to lose precious time standing around in a transport bay." --- "That's a fine brandy," McCoy said after the first sip ten minutes later, leaning back in his chair barely comfortable. The Captain's cabin was the biggest on the whole ship, and probably the most dangerous one; talk about visiting a panther in its cave... Kirk sat down on the other side of the table, raising his stretched legs and putting his heels on its shining surface. Circling the pink liquid in his glass, he smiled over at McCoy. "Of course. I wouldn't ever think of offering you anything not tasty; you're a connoisseur in every way, aren't you?" McCoy slightly frowned on the obvious double meaning, and decided to take another gulp of the brandy. It burned its way down the throat to the stomach where it evoked an almost erotic fire. Looking up he found hazel eyes resting on him, and tangible tension swapped over the small distance. McCoy cleared his throat. "It was an unusual procedure, Captain," he said to disguise his unease. "Why did you spare the Halkans?" Kirk's small smile deepened. "It was Spock's idea. And he gave a very logical explanation. But let's talk about something else, Len." Speechlessly McCoy looked at him for a moment. "Aye, Captain," he finally replied with more sternness than he felt. "It's Jim, Len, for tonight... and maybe all nights in the future," Kirk said in a silky voice. He placed his glass on the table and removed his belt, putting it unceremoniously on the table. Then he opened his golden uniform shirt and draped the cloth loosely to the sides to reveal his hairless chest. "Uh... Jim... " McCoy placed his glass down, too. "If it weren't you, I'd think you're trying to seduce me." Kirk swung his legs down to the floor in a fluid movement and rose from his chair, quickly walking around the table. "You thought I wouldn't be interested? Is that the reason why you never asked me?" When he stood before McCoy, he bowed down and closed his hands over the edge of the armrests, cornering his companion. His CMO looked up, the gleam in his eyes changing from surprise to anticipation. "You always appeared so damn heterosexual, Jim." His lips opened slightly on the sight of the now so closely lingering face, and he moaned softly, as they kissed for the first time. Kirk was a good, albeit demanding kisser, and soon a deeply probing, pushing tongue that claimed him intruded McCoy's mouth. The Captain's hands clamped around his wrists and pinned them onto the armrest, while one of his legs forced itself between the doctor's thighs. Eagerly complying McCoy parted his legs until Kirk's knee rested on his groin. Finally Kirk broke the kiss and pulled back, releasing the doctor's wrists. Stabilizing his fast breathing, he opened his fly and took out his cock. His fingers danced in a caress over the shaft and glans, evoking a palpably stare from McCoy. "Ready for more, Len?" Kirk asked huskily, and increased his stroking. "God, yes," McCoy gasped and slid from the chair down on his knees. "I've dreamt of this for years." When his lips closed over the head, Kirk grabbed the brown hair and pushed his full length into the wetness, soon mouth-fucking the other man. McCoy's arms reached around the Captain's back and took hold on the tight buttocks to stabilize their rhythm. In and out, back and forth, their bodies moved frantically together till Kirk's orgasm came and his cock twitched between McCoy's lips, releasing its almost tasteless fluid in pulsing shots. For a moment they clung to each other, and then McCoy slowly withdrew, licking the spent organ clean. Finally he looked up. "How did you know, Jim? Have I been so obvious?" Kirk reached down and shoved his softening cock back inside his pants, before he closed his zipper. And then, in an unexpected, quick movement he slapped McCoy into his face with full force. The impact was enough to send McCoy to the floor in a spinning turn, and before he could protect himself, Kirk kicked into his chest, once, twice... in the end counting escaped him, and he fell into darkness. --- Awakening from unusual and disturbing dreams, Spock climbed out of his bed. His legs gave in instantly, and only in the last moment could he grab the edge of the sideboard to steady himself. Heat flooded his body from head to toe, and like in a sudden fever sweat streamed down his forehead and neck, soaking his collar. Pulsing arousal sped through his abdomen, and he realized it was the onset of Pon Farr, prematurely and untimely, and so much stronger than in the past; there had to have been some trigger substance in the food of this planet, something the medical department had overlooked in their checkup. Calming his rising emotions down, he fought for controlled thinking. He had to get a doctor here... they had a substance onboard that would allow him to remain in a lower level of Pon Farr until he would be able to go to Vulcan... or he might have intercourse with a fitting female... as long as his hands weren't free, he wouldn't be able to bond... to make the contact of mind to mind... One trembling hand searched for the comm., while the other held him on the board. He pressed the button and forced his voice to submit to his will for the moment. "Spock to Sickbay. Come in, Sickbay." But only static answered. "Spock to -" Hearing his own wavering words he stopped. An outburst of anger surged through him, and his fist violently hit the plate, breaking the small lights. Red fog shaded his view as he decided to walk to the door... his guard had to be in the corridor... he had to call him... Tumbling through the room he made it to the door, but it stood close like a mocking fortress. He faltered and fell on his knees, his nails scratching on the sturdy metal covering. "Open the door," he tried to yell, but only a sobbing sound reached his ears. --- McCoy opened his eyes to find himself naked and tightly bound on the floor. The Captain hovered over him with a dangerously smoldering gaze. "Why?" McCoy asked angrily, although his aching chest allowed only a rough whisper. "The incident on Verran where I got hurt so badly, do you remember?" Kirk said in a barely controlled voice. "Your sedative only did half its job; I couldn't stop you from fucking me, but I was awake enough to remember afterwards." McCoy's eyes widened. "Jim... you were unconscious... I didn't do anything to you! You're right that I've the hots for you; I have for a long time, but how could I abuse you in Sickbay? There are always guards around." Kirk bent down and slapped McCoy hard into his face, bathing his brain once more in swirling pain. "You fucking liar. There weren't any guards. You told them I was simply sleeping, and sent them off to wait outside. But Chapel has witnessed you action." He closed his hands over McCoy's throat, throttling him harshly. "You bloody sissy," he hissed at him, "you'll pay for this for the rest of your life." He rose up and turned towards the comm. "It's time," he said into the speaker. McCoy fought for air, his body shaken by spasmodic coughs for a moment. Then he closed his eyes in surrender. How could he have been so stupid; he should've known that traitorous chick would go behind his back one day... she was already fucking around with M'Benga, too... And it was M'Benga who stepped into the room now. "Captain," he said and bowed his head. "How's Spock?" Kirk asked. "Ready," M'Benga replied with a malicious smile. "Then go ahead," the Captain said and waved towards McCoy. "And no tricks, M'Benga. I'll let you starve in the agony booth, if he dies from your treatment." M'Benga paled on these words, but only nodded before he knelt down besides McCoy and pressed the hypo into his shoulder. "What are you doing, Kirk?" McCoy muttered, as he felt the drug entering his blood stream. Instantly dizziness distorted his view. "You'll get the fuck of your life tonight, McCoy," Kirk replied in a low voice, and another hateful smile crossed his face. "I'll give you over to Spock." "To - Spock?" McCoy repeated weakly, while fighting against the blankness that began to stop his thought processes. "He... despises me... hates me..." "Tonight he'll fuck you, McCoy," M'Benga's voice pervaded the fog. "Oblivious to who you are and what gender you have. I've induced his Pon Farr with a drug. He's already deep in Plak Tow." "Why... Spock?" he managed to ask with the final leftovers of his concentration, trying to focus his gaze on the towering figure of the Captain. It closed in on him, but the words barely reached his senses anymore. "Because he wanted to betray me. But you won't be able to tell him that I knew..." --- "He's ready," M'Benga said after a look on his tricorder. "You can begin." "Fine," Kirk nodded. "Let's open his bonds and get him up." McCoy's bowed head swung loosely to the sides when they erected him into a sitting position with his back to the wall. Then they inclined his head into his neck, and Kirk leveled himself down for a direct gaze. "McCoy," he said insistently. "McCoy, do you hear me?" For a moment the doctor stayed in his stupor, and Kirk looked at M'Benga. "Just go ahead, Captain," the dark man said quietly. "McCoy!" Kirk said in his command voice, lightly slapping McCoy's right cheek with his palm. "McCoy, we need you. Spock needs you." "Spock...?" McCoy opened his eyes for an unfocused, blank gaze. "Yes, Spock needs you. You always wanted him, and tonight is your chance. He's in Pon Farr. He needs you. He needs someone to bond with. This is your chance. Go to him and release him from his pain. He needs you." Kirk pierced his eyes into the sitting man's blue one. "Needs... me... " The drugged man repeated, disorientated. "Yes," Kirk said intensely. "He needs you. He's waiting for you to come to him. You always wanted him. Now you can have him. You've longed for his cock in your ass; you've longed for his long fingers on your body. You wish to be claimed by Spock." "Claimed... " McCoy nodded weakly. "I always... wanted him..." "Yes, you always wanted him. And now this is your chance. Let me help you up." Assisted by M'Benga, he pulled the doctor into standing position, steadying his swaying. McCoy's voice was more determined now. "Spock... needs me." He looked at his supporters with a slightly cleared gaze. "I want him." Tightly holding his upper arms, they accompanied him to the door. "Yes, McCoy," Kirk said soothingly, "Spock needs you. He's waiting for you. Go to him now." Slowly they led him through the empty corridor towards Spock's cabin, which was guarded by one of Kirk's men. "Now!" Kirk hissed, and the moment the entrance had opened, they pushed McCoy into the dark room. 'A very satisfying evening,' he thought caustically, as the door closed, and called for Marlena. --- When Spock opened his eyes, his gaze fell on the typical, gray ceiling of space stations, and for a moment he was disoriented. Then, turning his head, he saw the earthen-colored curtains and smelled red sand, but those reminders of his home world were far from compelling right now. He hastily sat up. "It is a full marital bond," the healer declared coolly. "It cannot be solved without risk for your life and sanity." "Indeed," Spock answered flatly, and rose from the couch, fetching some jewels from his pocket. "You get those and this diamond" - a sparkling stone fell on the dark tablecloth - "for your advice and your silence. If you talk to someone, you will earn death." The healer shrugged and took the gems. "How could I speak of one I have never met?" he said. "A wise decision," Spock replied, and left towards the transporter room. Half an hour later he stood in his cabin onboard of the Enterprise, looking down on the sleeping human. He had guessed the nature of the bond in the moment he had awoken from the fever of the Plak Tow a week ago and had found McCoy on his side, naked, bruised, wet from his semen. His temper had flared, seared through his almost non-existing emotional control, and he had taken him once more with full force, this time consciously ignoring the human's pleas. McCoy might have wanted to help him in his prematurely triggered Pon Farr, but the human had not known what he had done to him. This bonding had destroyed all of his carefully erected plans, shattered them into pieces within a few hours. His marriage to a mere human was an insult to all Vulcans; he might have taken a lover, even a consort, but never a Terran spouse. It had also rendered all chances for a tactical marriage with another important House impossible, ending his considerations concerning the other Kirk's suggestions. The moment his bonding became generally known, Sarek would probably outcast him, so all that was left for him was to stay with the fleet, and for now onboard of the Enterprise. Bonded to this one... Anger flared again, and he stepped next to the bed, awakening the sleeping man. Blue eyes focused on him in sudden alertness. "What did he say?" "We are fully bonded. It can only be solved by death, with the risk of sanity for the survivor." McCoy sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "That's impossible," he muttered. "We despise each other. Life will be an endless misery. There has to be another solution." Spock coldly looked down on him. "Your evaluation of our situation is only partially correct. It is solely your life that will be a misery, Doctor." "You heartless bastard," McCoy spit at him and tried to get up, but he was no match for the Vulcan's strength. "You are mine, and I will use you, as often as I wish to," Spock stated as he held him easily down on the bed a few moments later, kneeling over him and forcing the human's thighs apart to give his cock free entrance. One of his hands settled on the melding points, doubling the impact of his thoughts. // Surrender, and I might allow you pleasure, one day... // McCoy growled into the cushion and channelled all his hatred over the bond when Spock entered him. His torturer should at least suffer as much as he did. The doctor awoke in the early morning hours, his body aching, sticky wetness between his buttocks. A delicate neck right before his eyes, the regular lifting and lowering of a well-built chest next to him. So erotic, so distant. He faintly remembered he had wanted the Vulcan when he had entered his cabin that night, but Spock had made sure to dispel all positive feelings with his actions during the last days. And now the sheer thought of spending a lifetime as the possession of this cruel alien made him sick; he'd rather risk death than suffer like this. Cautiously standing up, he moved over to the collection of weapons on the wall of the cabin. He had never been a fighter, and he had rarely killed, but he would kill the Vulcan happily... slice him as though for an examination, from throat to abdomen, then vertically over the stomach, then push his ribs away to uncover the still beating heart... swallowing in the flood of green blood that would color the cushions and blankets... His hands closed over the handle of a knife in pleasant expectation, when he felt the warm body behind him. "It is useless," Spock emotionlessly breathed into his ear, and closed his hand over McCoy's. "I read your mind like an open book; you can do nothing without my knowledge." "You bastard," McCoy whispered, and then suddenly turned around and raised the knife in a last desperate attempt to finish what he had dreamed of. The next moment he found himself sprawled on the floor, the sharp weapon on his own throat. "Yeah, kill me," he sputtered, "go ahead!" "I will not do this," Spock replied and lifted the knifepoint away. "But you shall pay for your action." He dressed into his uniform and called his guards. "Two hours in the agony booth for the Doctor, medium setting," he said, and stayed behind in his cabin for a moment to drink his morning tea. The human's swearing clung in his ears for longer than he had expected, and this was satisfactory. He needed to keep McCoy's hate alive; otherwise his own natural instincts to protect and care for his mate would set in, and he didn't want to experience those feelings for this man who had destroyed his future. When he finally walked down the corridor towards his duty, the first waves of pain were flooding over the bond. He controlled them down to an acceptable level, pleased by the human's suffering, which once more matched at least his own. --- They met in the lift. "Aria didn't answer our ultimatum," Kirk said. "What would be your recommended action, Mr. Spock?" "The weapon pattern for the annihilation of the four biggest cities is set, Sir. I advise its immediate execution," the Vulcan replied without a trace of emotion. Kirk broke into a broad grin. "That's the First I remember," he said and lightly put his hand on the Vulcan's shoulder. "Glad to have you back, Spock." And in the booth McCoy was swearing to take revenge... --- The End