| Chapter 14 - "Precious Pearls" Pavel moved his lips to just beneath Jim's ear, his hand back to Jim's groin. "Tell me about the day you found Sulu and me in the passageway," he breathed. "What?" Jim turned his head and looked into the eyes, surprised. "Look, I'm really sorry about that day. I..." "Don't apologize, just tell me what happened." Pavel grinned up at him, devilishly. The Russian's voice remained soft and low. "Tell me about the day you saw Sulu and me making love. Tell me everything you saw," he purred, running his lips across Jim's shoulder. It was a day Jim had tried to forget. It was a blatant reminder of everything that he believed himself incapable of. "I had come down to retrieve a tool that Scotty needed. I knew it was with the equipment you had been using, and I knew that you were running the new relay lines in the corridor behind the containment chamber. I was through the opening before I realized what was going on." "What did you see?" Pavel whispered, sucking gently on the spot beneath Jim's ear. "I don't think this is going to do either of us any good," Jim insisted. "I want to know. Tell me," Pavel encouraged him. "Tell me everything." It felt as if there were a ball of molten lava in the pit of Jim's stomach that kept trying to work its way up his throat. It was only because of Pavel's persistence that he continued. "He was fucking you." "And you watched us," Pavel said softly against his neck, his voice causing a vibration against Jim's skin. He felt Pavel release the closure at the neck of his jumpsuit. "Yes...I couldn't drag my eyes away," Jim confessed. Pavel eased open the top of the jumpsuit and pushed it away from Jim's shoulder, his tongue following the path of his fingers. "What else?" Pavel whispered between sucking kisses. Jim looked over at the head of shiny, dark brown hair nestled against his shoulder. He brought a hand up and combed his fingers through the thick mane as he recalled the images that had been so clear that day. "Your legs were spread, and your jumpsuit was around your knees..." Jim whispered. "Yes..." Pavel sighed, seductively. "Sulu's was lying loose around his ankles." Jim realized his voice was becoming rough, and he could feel the first stirrings of his arousal against the material of his briefs. However, instead of it being a pleasurable sensation, he found it to be disquieting, as if his body was trying to betray him. "What were we doing?" Pavel whispered, as Jim felt the slick tongue trail a painfully slow path toward his chest and begin drawing small circles around his constricting nipple. With the contact, it felt as if a piercing, hot flame raced through his body toward his groin. Jim bent over, buried his face in Pavel's soft hair, and heard himself moan. He was becoming aware of those physical responses that he had not been able to feel--had not allowed himself to feel--in so long. "He was...are you sure you want to do this?" Jim rasped into Pavel's hair. Pavel turned his face up to Jim. Passion had made those expressive eyes even darker. "Da, I'm sure. Tell me...tell me what he was doing." Sucking a breath through his clenched teeth, he shivered. Pavel's voice had grown deep, and the accent that had been barely noticeable earlier was becoming quite pronounced. "He was...he was ramming himself inside of you," Jim breathed. A shiver ran through him, and he captured the warm, wet mouth. Pavel's tongue darted tantalizingly against his lips, urging his to open. Parting his lips, he tasted the sweet-spicy essence that beckoned him to open wider. They began to explore, their tongues dueling seductively against one another, until only the need for oxygen was more important. "Yes..." Pavel panted deeply, feeding his starved lungs. "He had made me cum so he could lubricate me...so he could slide inside of me. It felt good to have him inside me. Then what?" Pavel asked as he reached up and unclasped the remainder of Jim's jumpsuit, slipping his fingers inside. With the feel of the hand against his skin, gliding just underneath the waistband of his briefs, Jim hissed. "You were moaning something in Russian, I think, meeting every thrust with your hips," Jim shuddered. The molten heat in his gut was ebbing its way lower, growing even hotter. He was hard, and although each new touch created a wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him, he wanted the hand to find his bare flesh. Reaching between them, he used his thumb to work the waistband of his briefs low, releasing his straining cock. As the fingers found him and stroked a light path from root to tip, Jim experienced the sweet torture of pain and pleasure that seemed as if it was going to consume him. With each graze of the fingertips against the tip of his swollen organ, his hips jutted forward, involuntarily moving against the hand that was taunting him. "What else?" Pavel purred, moving his lips back to Jim's shoulder. "Tell me what else you saw." Pavel's tongue darting against his flesh was stoking the inferno that Jim was sure was going to incinerate him. "You had a hand on the bulkhead, supporting yourself. With the other...with your other hand you were..." The ball of fire in his gut seemed to combust, sending hot, sparking cinders showering through every part of his body. He grasped Pavel by his shoulders, pulling him up, and whipped him around so the smaller man was pressed against the edge of the bunk. Pavel's eyes opened wide in surprise. "You tell me! Tell me what you were doing on *my* ship!" Jim growled, burying his lips in the juncture where Pavel's neck and shoulder met. "I was...masturbating," Pavel gasped. "Bringing myself off so we could...cum together." "Yesss..." Jim moaned against the damp skin. "You were cumming...so was he," he rasped into the side of Pavel's neck, his lips and teeth marking the skin as he passed the point of no return. There was no saving him now as began to knead his groin against the still-clothed body. Holding Pavel in place, he struggled with one sleeve and then the other to free his arms from the confines of the jumpsuit. Frantically he pushed it down with one hand, until he was free of all restrictions. His boots, underwear and jumpsuit lay in a jumbled pile that he pushed off to the side with his foot. Jim was no longer thinking clearly. The lust and desires that had failed him in these last weeks were engulfing him. It felt like he was standing on edge of a chasm, daggers all around him, ready to dissect him if this went any further. It was a mental tightrope he had walked for so long. He knew that if this act was taken to completion, he would fall onto those blades and would be carved into pieces, yet he was no longer willing to fight for his balance. Tempestuously, Jim ripped apart the front of Pavel's suit, pushed and pulled roughly at the material, succeeding in freeing it from the muscular shoulders. With fevered urgency he shoved the duty uniform as far down as he was able, dragging the offending underwear with it. When he had the bunched material as far down as it would go with them both still standing, he grabbed Pavel around the waist and all but flung him onto the bunk. Reaching down with one hand, he jerked off the boots and the material clumped around Pavel's ankles and hurled them all to the floor. Only then did he take a second to admire the body laid out in front of him. It was as perfect as he had seen just minutes before in the shuttle's view screen, except now there was an erotic flush that tinted the body from head to toe. The thick cock that had looked impressive enough flaccid, was hard, long, and arched proudly upward. With the hand that had just divested the body of any remaining clothing, he reached for the organ and stroked the length of it, causing a bead of fluid to appear at the small, glistening slit. Leaning down, he captured the drop with his tongue and felt the hips buck up toward him. Hands were in his hair, urging his mouth lower, but he pulled back. With a knee on the edge of the bunk, he hoisted himself onto the prone body and stretched out on top, arranging himself so hardness met hardness. Sliding his hands under Pavel's ass, he gripped the taunt mounds and forced their groins together. Only then did he look up at the face. The eyes were hooded, almost closed. Pavel was drawing deep breaths in through his mouth, pulling his lower lip between his teeth with every few breaths. "Open your eyes! Look at me!" Jim commanded. The dark, dilated eyes opened and met his own. Jim felt the thighs beneath him part, and Pavel's legs wrap around him, allowing him to settle between the muscular thighs. He began to grind their cocks together, abrading erection against erection, feeling the wet heat building between them as drops of sweat formed and trickled in erotic paths down their bodies. Uncontrollably he humped repeatedly against Pavel's body, seeking relief, seeking an end--whatever that would be. Jim felt the heat building in his groin, needing the release that would only be found with orgasm, and still not believing himself capable of carrying this through to climax. Unwilling to give into one more failure, he thrust harder against the body beneath him. Strong hands found his ass, kneading and separating his mounds, pulling their bodies tightly together with each forward propulsion of his hips. When Pavel's arms stretched tautly around him, and he felt fingers begin to ring his anal opening, the first wave crashed down on him, taking his breath away. It seemed as if thunder was pounding in his temples and that his mind was exploding. He felt himself toppling from the mental precipice that he had been clinging to, plunging in a freefall, bringing him to the point where he would be impaled upon those treacherous daggers and forever lost. But he couldn't stop, not until the very insanity that seemed to lie ahead claimed him. "Oh, GOD! I'm coming apart!" Jim groaned into the juncture where Pavel's neck and shoulder met as the second wave consumed him. His semen began to spurt from his body, spreading between them in wave after shuddering wave that threatened to tear him into pieces. He was certain that his very soul was being severed. "No! No you're not! I've got you..." Pavel panted, holding him tightly around his waist in a nearly rib-crushing grasp as Jim roared his orgasm, his anguish, his triumph. Jim shook violently as the floodgates he had mentally constructed collapsed, and all that he had hidden away inside rushed to overwhelm him. Spock, Bones, David, and the Enterprise...they were all there, slashing at him, each ripping a part of him away. He felt hot beads as they streamed down his face and fell onto the shoulder beneath. With his fists balled, he gripped Pavel tighter, grasping onto him as if the smaller man was a lifeline. The arms wrapped around him, holding him together, constricting him with every ragged breath, yet even that was not forceful enough to save him. Jim wanted to scream his agony, and may have, but he didn't know for sure. He felt himself being rolled onto his back, and from somewhere, he heard a voice telling him, "It's okay...I've got you...reach for me...I'm here." The words brought back the memories of another time, the day of his bonding to Spock and McCoy. Standing at a ceremonial site, he and Spock were one. Then there was another presence fighting the invasion and calling to them for help. //Bones, we're here, in front of you. Reach for us, Bones, we need you. // And the three of them mentally joined together. Three incomplete parts separately, but together they made the whole. 'Oh, GOD! Bones! Spock!' his mind screamed. They had been such a part of him for so long, much longer than the day when they were bonded, that it felt as if two-thirds of him was missing. It seemed that all that was left was an empty, embittered shell. And the bitterness ran deep, clouding the memories of what they had together. His anger was profound toward Spock for betraying him, for leaving him behind, for making such a decision without him. Although he knew it was irrational--and knew that he, too, would have done anything necessary to save the ship and crew--he deeply resented Spock for his actions on that day. And he was furious that his former bondmate did not remember what they had together. For deserting them, for leaving them with all those precious memories that were now apparently so unimportant to their Vulcan lover. But his resentment didn't stop there. The reasons for the trepidation he'd felt toward Bones were now perfectly clear. Even though he knew that Bones had been in no position to stop their bondmate from entering that chamber, and had been right to restrain him when he wanted to follow Spock inside, Jim still blamed McCoy for Spock's death. Even though Bones wasn't responsible, Jim had allowed himself to lose both of his lovers on that day. It was the day he had foolishly given up everything in the name of grief. Then when Jim discovered that Spock had instilled his katra into McCoy, it was the final blow to his ego. He hadn't realized it at the time, but there was no denying that he was jealous--insanely so. Not only had McCoy betrayed the bond by developing feelings for Sarek, but had then become the vessel for that part of Spock which survived. Where Jim had allowed himself to believe that he had been left with nothing when Spock died, Bones--the betrayer--had been left with that most important part of their bondmate. Even in the case of David's death, he subconsciously held McCoy responsible. Had Bones told him earlier that he was carrying Spock's katra, they would have been there in time to save David, or so some part of him thought. Those hours spent in trying to locate him, and then breaking him out of the holding cell at the detention annex, was time wasted when he could have saved his ship--and more importantly, his son. And for this, Jim had done all in his power to punish Bones, wanting his lover to feel as empty as he did. In those brief moments, Jim was met with the blistering cruelly of having to meet head-on not only all that had tormented him in these last weeks, but the condemnation that he had levied on the very ones he claimed to love. His response to all that had happened had been nothing less than appalling. His soul was in splinters, yet, instead of trying to do all in his power to put the disarray of their lives back together, he had used those shards to slash out at everyone around him. He had severed the trust of his crew and had tried to gut Bones of his very heart. Having to face the raw truth, he felt ashamed and broken beyond repair; much like the ship that had been such an important part of his life. It seemed the only thing keeping him from irretrievably disintegrating was the strong grip that surrounded him. He felt himself sobbing uncontrollably against the warm, damp flesh. For that moment, he wasn't even sure who belonged to the strong, consoling arms. Swells of deeply suppressed, previously unspent emotions surged through Jim's body, the pain from each event surfacing with tormenting agony. The memories he had desperately tried to repress materialized with absolute clarity in his mind's eye. Unbridled, it was as if the images were trying to surround and smother him. It felt as if his very spirit was spilling out, and there arose a real fear that even if he survived this, he would forever more be trapped inside the well of endless, hopeless despair that he felt closing in on all sides. On the verge of conceding himself to this cold, lonely destiny, a face flashed before him. The kindness and compassion he found there seemed to serve as a weapon against the menacing walls that surrounded him. His mind reached out against the ramparts that seemed to be holding him captive, and Jim found that what had seemed to be an impermeable, hellish pit, was only the fabric of his own fears. He reached out to the caring face and found the darkness shearing away, replaced with warmth and light that emanated from the one who held him. The slow, methodical touch against his flesh ceased being agonizing and began to soothe him. Jim found himself wanting to lose himself in those arms, to hand over all that he was, and never again have to confront that which he had left behind. To never have to face the consequences of his actions over these last weeks. But, instinctively, he knew that these arms, however comforting he found them, did not belong to him--although, for now, they were his center. It was from here that he could, perhaps, begin to rebuild. Gradually, drawn mostly from the dark sepia eyes that looked upon him, the most minuscule shimmer of hope began to seed itself within Jim's mind. Grasping frantically to hold onto it, to feed and nurture it, he felt it flourish only when acceptance began to seep in. Jim began to understand Spock's reason for entering the containment chamber. Given the urgency of the situation, his choice had been the only logical one. Whether his intentions had been to save the ship or just his bondmates no longer mattered, in either case, the result was the same. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few--or the one. With the bitterness draining from him, so did the resentment toward Spock for not remembering the life they once had. That suddenly seemed inconsequential. Spock was alive. This alone was nothing less than a miracle, yet, until now, Jim had been unable to appreciate the dynamics of something he would have previously considered unbelievable. They had found each other once before; it was not inconceivable that they would do so again. But even if they didn't, even if they were meant to be lead separate lives, the love that the three of them had shared would go on with him forever. The three of them. Bones. Jim knew that if ever there was born a benevolent spirit, it dwelled within that man. It was little wonder that he, Spock, and yes, Sarek, had fallen in love with Leonard McCoy. What corporeal being couldn't resist the compassion, kindness, and dedication--tempered with the perfect amount of cantankerous--that comprised the man Jim had been luck enough to call friend, confidant, and lover? Bones hadn't betrayed them any more than he had been responsible for David's death or the destruction of the Enterprise. Bones had merely opened that all encompassing heart of his and allowed room for another to enter. Jim wondered how his spirit had become so dead that he had actually pushed Bones to go to Sarek. How he had been so lucky that Bones had refused? Leonard McCoy had no control over the events on the tragic day when they encountered Khan. Nor did he have any power over what followed. He certainly hadn't asked to be the vessel for Spock's katra anymore than he had asked for the near insanity that fulfilling that role had caused. And he sure hadn't deserved the blame that Jim had been heaping upon him since. Blame. Jim had spent the last months wrapped in a shell composed of blame and accusations, using it like a shield to keep everyone he cared about at bay. Blaming Starfleet for taking away the Enterprise; blaming Bones' involvement with Sarek for the problems that had arisen in their bond--problems that had begun long before Sarek had requested McCoy for the mission to Bakswana-7; blaming Spock for dying, and perhaps even more for leaving him behind; but, Jim realized, most of all he blamed himself. However, wasn't there just cause? Wasn't his culpability the reason his crew was marooned? Wasn't it his actions that had landed them in this bleak situation? He hadn't fought nearly hard enough when Starfleet took the Enterprise from him. He hadn't been there to protect Bones when he needed him the most. He hadn't been there to keep Spock from walking into that radiation-filled chamber. He had not even been there to protect his own son when a Klingon's dagger had taken his life. The barrage of self-recrimination seemed as if it was going to bury him once again. With this awakening of Jim's soul, came insights into the emotions that that were still threatening to destroy him, emotions that, until now, had no name. Resentment, jealousy, and spite had been his constant companions. Jim knew that if there was to be any chance for him to get through this, he would have to lay them aside and find it in himself to get past the barricade of remorse and shame that had become such an integral part of him. But how? How could he forgive himself for those things that seemed unforgivable? He felt a hand slip soothingly along the side of his head. From somewhere he heard, "Jim, I'm here. Open your eyes and look at me." With a deep, ragged breath, he forced his eyes open once more. Hovered above him was the face of Pavel. A wave of embarrassment settled over Jim when he realized that the man had been witness to his consummate breakdown. "I'm sorry," Jim choked, bringing his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, squeezing the excess moisture from them. "Don't be. I told you I would be here to help you pick up the pieces. I'm not going anywhere," Pavel whispered. Jim felt another shudder run through him as a knot formed in his throat. He blinked away the last of the moisture clouding his vision and saw the concern that bathed that lovely face. How could it be that he was the recipient of such warmth, such compassion? Was it possible that there was enough of the man he had once been left in him to deserve such kindness? It seemed hard to believe. Even he barely remembered that man, that James Kirk, a man who had been worthy of a young ensign's adoration. Jim remembered that once, seemingly a long time in the past, he had been a man whose passions had run deep and strong. That man had loved and fought, commanded and committed himself with equal enthusiasm. Until he found himself staring into Pavel's somber, caring eyes, he believed that part of him had died kneeling outside a containment chamber. Admittedly, he had once been deserving of such feelings, yet amazingly, if those eyes that stared back at him could be believed, some part of him was still worthy. Chapter 15 Forgiving himself would not be easy, but he had never been one to travel the easy road. Just as he had accepted that both Spock and Bones had only reacted to a set of disastrous circumstances, it was time to accept that he, too, had been a victim of those same circumstances. He had made mistakes, big ones. Of that he was certain. But hadn't he told Pavel that he wasn't perfect? Perhaps it was time he started to accept that in himself. Only with this--seemingly simple--revelation, did the remainder of the dark cloak that had covered him for so long fall away. Bringing his hand up, he caressed the side of Pavel's face. Jim traced the shape of the jaw and the line of the hair around the small, rounded ear. His breathing became steadier, and when he could once more trust his voice, he whispered, "How...how did you know what it would take?" Pavel smiled softly, a single finger outlined Jim's mouth. "A wise man once told me to rely on my instincts. It was good advice." It was the night Pavel had come to his quarters and had been steeped in guilt over the circumstances surrounding Khan. Pavel had decided that everything that had taken place had been his fault, and he was trying to find a way to move past the pain and guilt. Jim had passed along words of wisdom that Spock had once endowed upon him. He told Pavel that he should 'rely on his instincts'. It was good advice, and Jim wondered at what point he had forgotten to follow it. "I'm not so sure about the 'wise man' part, but it was a man who cared about you then...and now," Jim smiled, gently combing his fingers through Pavel's ruffled mop of hair. "A man who's very grateful for what you've done here today. I'm just sorry that you had to be here to see this." Jim felt an arm snake around his waist and he realized that for the first time since the day he had watched Spock die, he didn't find the touch of another painful. "I'm not," Pavel breathed, bending his head lower. "Not if you feel better." Moving his hand to the back of Pavel's neck, he urged him closer. "I do...much better," Jim sighed just before their lips met. This time, as the kiss deepened, and Pavel began to thrust gently against his hip, Jim realized the desire to run away had left him, replaced by a desire of a different, more familiar, kind. He was able to appreciate the sensation of having the hard flesh of another pressed against his body. It wasn't the flesh of those he missed so dearly, but it was someone he cared for a great deal just the same. Jim felt Pavel's hand sliding down his body, becoming slick with the ejaculate that had spread between them, until it rested against his renewing erection. Tenderly, the slippery hand massaged him back to full arousal. Jim grasped the base of Pavel's responsive cock. Pavel's hips pushed toward him as he slid his hand up the impressive length of the rigid organ, and back again. As the kiss was released, Jim rolled them over, centering Pavel's back on the narrow bunk. Starting at the damp hairline, Jim trailed a path down the shape of the warm, inviting face, down the neck and chest, until he was licking the hard nubs. He admired the gently flushed appearance of the torso, and the well-defined muscles that lay beneath the tightly stretched skin. Pavel released a groan of pure passion when Jim captured one taunt nipple, rolled it gently between his teeth, then moved to the other. Pausing, he looked up and their eyes met. Passion, deep and ancient, reflected what they both felt. Once, long ago, there had been unshared fantasies about a moment such as this. All such desires had not been solely those of a young officer enamored with his captain. Jim remembered times when he, too, had often watched the young ensign with a lustful eye, always careful not to betray his feelings. Admittedly, that which existed between them was an old fantasy that had lived in another time, but an important one, and one that Jim wanted to fulfill, for both of them. He knew he could never begin to repay his Russian friend for what he had done, but compensation was not what this was about. This was the desire of two men to complete the dance to music that had long since faded, but where there still existed soft, gentle notes had never been fully forgotten. Trailing a path down the hard abdomen, he tasted the remnants of his own release that that been sprayed between them just minutes before. The taste of his own essence against the salty-sweet skin caused his fully aroused cock to jerk noticeably against Pavel's thigh. It was all he could do to keep from pressing his groin against the solid surface, and feel the joy of release without fearing the outcome. Moving lower on the bunk, he once more grasped the shaft of the Russian's straining cock and closed his lips around the head. Flicking his tongue around the tip, he felt Pavel pushing his hips upwards, and Jim allowed the movement to sink the cock into the depths of his throat. "Jim...." Pavel moaned, and Jim felt the fingers sinking into his hair, the hands urging him to move up and down on the straining organ. He heard the sounds of Pavel pulling quick breaths between his clenched teeth, as if battling against giving himself over to release. "I...always wanted...always dreamed...of you touching me like this..." Pavel panted. Jim suspected that Pavel had wanted to say those words for almost as many years as he had wanted to hear them. "Yesss..." Jim hissed, pulling his mouth from around the head. "And I spent many hours seated behind you...wondering how you would taste..." Jim confessed before he captured the straining organ once more. "Why...why didn't you come to me?" Pavel rasped through broken breaths, but there was no need to respond. They both knew the answers. Chain of command and inappropriate behavior with a subordinate was just the beginning. There was the fact that had Jim allowed anything to transpire between them, it could have jeopardized the mission, perhaps placed the whole crew in danger. The bridge of a starship was no place for romantic entanglements. It was the same reason that he had never allowed himself to consider anything beyond fantasy with either Bones or Spock in those first years, and the reason that Pavel and Sulu had worked so diligently to keep their affair a secret. It wasn't necessarily right, but it was the only way to command. Pavel strained his hips upwards, and Jim knew he was just moments from release. With his tongue, he repeatedly flicked the sensitive area of the frenulum just beneath the flared cap to bring Pavel over. Jim was rewarded with a string of Russian expletives that he couldn't translate, but whose meaning was more than clear. With that, a rush of warm fluid splashed in strong gushes against the back of his throat. Drinking deeply, he coaxed the last of the ejaculate from the organ before releasing it and moving back up on the body. As soon as Jim was in range, Pavel captured his mouth, and the essence that was fresh on his lips was shared between them. There was a hint of his own fluid and the fresh semen from Pavel, which mingled together to form a sweet, heady flavor, and one that Jim knew he could get used to very quickly if he allowed himself to do so. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not something that would be repeated. But that didn't keep him from relishing in the joy of the moment. "Fuck me," Pavel murmured. Jim raised up a bit, knowing that he still held the smile that he had been unable to suppress in these last minutes. "I'm afraid I was greedy and didn't leave enough of your fluid to lubricate you. Unlike Sulu, I didn't think ahead," Jim taunted him good-naturedly. "But unlike the corridor of the Bounty, we have supplies," Pavel grinned back. "I saw packets of surgical lubricant when Doctor McCoy was checking the equipment. There..." he pointed toward the top cabinet door, "...there is a whole box." Jim propped up on his forearms, hovering above Pavel, and looked down at the man who was, for this moment, his lover. "Don't move...that's an order," he commanded. "Nyet! I would never disobey an order!" Pavel replied adamantly. "That must be a new trait," Jim teased, pushing himself up to his knees and sliding off the bunk. Stretching over the stack of crates, he strained to reach the catch on the door. Just as he almost grasped it, he felt Pavel's finger slip the length of his crevice. The unexpected touch caused him to jump, missing the lever that would open the cabinet. He turned back to the Russian laying on the bunk, wrapped his arms around the prone figure and kissed him soundly. "If you keep that up, I'll never reach the lubricant and you will have to go unfucked," Jim grinned. "I promise, I won't touch you again. Not until you have the lubricant, anyway," Pavel responded, looking up at Jim seductively through a dark fringe of eyelashes. "I'll be good." "You've already been *that*," Jim whispered before helping himself to one more kiss. He then released Pavel and tried once more to reach the cabinet door, this time with success. Sure enough, inside was a small basket holding a variety of medical knickknacks, including a clear box of shiny silver packets. He grabbed the box, just before his shoulder felt like it was going to give out, pulled it to him, ripped it open, and retrieved several of the prized envelopes. He laid all but one on the side of the bunk and handed that one to Pavel. Hoisting himself back up on the bunk, he knelt between the parted, muscular thighs. "Do you want to prepare me?" he asked. "Da," Pavel whispered. Sitting up, he tore open the packet with his teeth and squeezed the contents into his palm. He closed his hands together to allow his flesh to warm the gel, and then brought his hands to Jim's hard cock. He wrapped his hands around the shaft and spread the lubricant to the end. The feel of the slick hands sliding up and down his cock, soon had Jim teetering on the edge of another orgasm. Jim reached down and gently removed Pavel's hands from him, then pulled him in for a kiss. The softness of the lips was amazing, and he loved the feel of them against his own. Releasing him, Pavel reached for another of the packets and handed this one to Jim. Laying down and pulling his knees up, he whispered, "Now, you prepare me." Jim looked down and allowed his whole being a few seconds to drink in the view. The round, hard mounds were spread apart and the constricted aperture was exposed. It was perfection in every since of the word. He ran his hands along the outline of the firm, round globes of Pavel's ass, and fingered the small ridges of the tight, puckered opening. Ripping open the packet, Jim spread the gel on his fingertips and rubbed it between them. Reaching down, he coated the exterior of the opening, and then, with a single finger, easily breached the small entrance. Reaming the warm, damp cavity, and pushing more of the lubricant inside, elicited a moan from the man lying beneath him--and an anticipatory bead of fluid to form at the tip of Jim's own cock. The feel of once more touching someone in this way made him shiver, and Jim could feel his heart pounding against the wall of his chest. He hadn't realized how much he had missed the intimacy of performing such an act. The sensation of muscle giving way under his ministrations encouraged him to slip another finger into the constricted orifice. With this, Pavel's breaths quickened and Jim felt him begin to writhe against his hand, moving his hips toward the bottom of the bunk, as if trying to force Jim's fingers further inside. Pavel's cock was fully engorged and straining upwards. With his other hand, Jim wrapped his fingers the organ and began slow, meticulous strokes up and down the shaft. "Now...Jim...please...now," Pavel moaned. Pulling his fingers out, Jim pushed his thighs underneath Pavel's hips to tilt them slightly forward. He grasped the base of his cock, centered it to the opening, and rocked forward until the head of his penis slid inside the warm, tight ring. Jim paused and took a few deep breaths, giving time for Pavel's muscles to conform to his shape, as well as allow his own body a moment to adjust to the stimulus. When he felt Pavel tilt his pelvis toward him, signaling his readiness, Jim slowly pushed inside until he was fully sheathed. Still stroking Pavel's cock, he lay down, slipping his arm beneath Pavel's neck, tilting his head back so he could savor the taste of the sweet mouth. Only then did he begin to move in and out of the body, slowly at first, but soon their bodies were working in unison as he would withdraw all but the tip and plunge back inside. Pavel's muscular legs wrapped around Jim's ass, strong hands gripped his waist, and together they urged him in deeper and deeper with every thrust. Their lips joined in a bruising, exploitative kiss. Jim buried his head in the juncture between Pavel's neck and shoulder, as his hips slapped repeatedly against the body beneath him. Both bodies begin to quake and thrust harder as they neared climax. Whispered in a near sob into his ear, Jim heard, "I love you...I always have." Lifting his head, their eyes met in a moment of complete understanding. Jim breathed, "I know, Pav. I've loved you, too." He captured Pavel's warm, wet mouth, once more. The old, faded notes of the song that had once, long ago, existed between them rose to a fevered pitch and culminated in a powerful crescendo before fading away into a sweet, haunting melody. It was a pleasant, soul-soothing tune that, once this mission was over, would never be heard again. Yet they both knew that these sweet strains would be remembered for the rest of their lives. The last climactic shudder had past through them, and the only thing keeping them joined was the lament they would feel when their bodies were no longer one. Only when he softened to the point where the connection between them could no longer be maintained, did Jim pulled free from Pavel's body. Rolling onto his back, Jim pulled Pavel's against him so that the soft head was lying on his chest. For the next hours, wrapped within each other's arms, they lay together dozing off and on, sharing gentle caresses, occasional kisses, and the sated contentment of just having this time together. At one point, Jim awoke and decided to check the monitors. Sliding the sleeping Pavel off to one side, he rose and briefly scanned the gauges. All was in order, everything still running within the parameters of the auto settings. Feeling the sensation of dried semen on his abdomen, and the need to relieve himself, he slipped into the small bathroom. Cleaned up once more, he knew it was time to get dressed and back to business. Upon exiting from the small bathroom, however, he was met with a sight that nearly stole his breath away. Pavel was laying on the bunk, rolled almost onto his stomach, his firm, rounded ass beautifully displayed. He was propped up on one elbow, his head resting on his hand, and was wearing nothing but a grin that would have seduced the stars out of the sky. "Jesus Christ! You're dangerous!" Jim breathed. "I'm lonely," Pavel's grin grew wider and more seductive. "Besides, you're not exactly harmless, yourself!" he purred, giving Jim a slow and deliberate gaze from head to toe and back again. Jim glanced at the command station. 'The hell with it!' he thought. Everything was in running order, and the sight on the bunk was certainly more appealing that the one out the viewport. Besides, it was still four hours before they had to prepare for entry into the Vulcan atmosphere--four hours that could definitely be put to better use than watching gauges. Within seconds he had covered the Russian's body with his own and sunk his cock into the wet, snug channel. Jim was reclined against the pillows, stroking the head and back of the man lying on his chest, completely sated. Every muscle in his body was relaxed to the point of being limp--*every* muscle. Several additional packets of lubricant lay beside him, all empty, and there was a lovely tenderness inside where Pavel had reciprocated quite deliciously by fucking him soundly. Time was growing short, but he had to admit that never moving from this spot was a very tempting idea. Roused by Jim's touch, Pavel propped himself up on Jim's chest. "Can I ask you something?" Jim had to smile. After what they had experienced together, it seemed strange for Pavel to be asking permission. "Anything," he answered, wrapping his arms around Pavel's back. "What do you want to know?" "When we get back, are you going to go to Len? He needs you, you know." Jim nodded. "Yeah, I know. Maybe even as much as I need him. I hope to find a way for us to get through this...together," he sighed. "But I've burned a lot of bridges and, let's face it, for the most part, have acted like an ass." Jim couldn't help but smile when Pavel nodded in agreement and stated, "Da." Jim certainly couldn't fault the man for his honesty. Continuing, Jim said, "I don't know for sure if he'll be willing to trust me again. I can only hope," he added wistfully. Jim knew he had thrown away someone who meant the most to him, and all in the name of trying to regain control. Control. It was the cause of his successes, and the root of his failures. It was the motivation that drove him to lead, and the reason he could not accept defeat. Control had been something he had given up to Matt Decker early in his life, only to regain that part of himself years later at the Academy. He swore to himself that he would never again relinquish it to anyone, and until recently had kept that promise. And he knew it might very well have cost him everything that was important. Nodding reassuringly, Pavel said, "He will. Just go to him and explain. You need to tell him what you've been going through. But remember, you need to hear him out, too." Sometimes, Jim mused, Pavel's insights into the human psyche were very nearly amazing. Taking a deep breath he stared into those dark, knowing eyes. "It seems I have a lot of explaining to do when we get back. I have to let the rest of the crew know what I had in mind, and convince them that I'm sorry for trying to take the decision away from all of you." Pavel's fingers drew circles on Jim's chest. "Yes, but they'll understand." "Will they? You didn't," Jim arched his eyebrows upwards. "Okay, so it might take them a while. But I came around, didn't I?" Pavel grinned up at him. Jim rolled Pavel over so he was lying on top of him. "True, but I don't think I have the stamina to use the same persuasive techniques on them, as I used on you," Jim grinned back. "I hope not," Pavel all but cooed just before Jim pulled him into another kiss. An hour later--after cleaning up, dressing, and devouring some of the food that had been stored away for them--they were once more seated in the command seats. The few slight adjustments that were needed had been made, and they would soon be preparing for entry into Vulcan space. "Jim, do you mind me asking one more question?" "Pav, I think we're past the point of you needing my permission to ask me anything. Just ask." Jim looked over at Pavel and winked before turning to watch the controls. "It's about the time Len and Ambassador Sarek were on the outer rim. Was that when they became...involved?" Jim jerked around. "How did you know that? Did Bones tell you?" "No, of course not," Pavel shook his head emphatically, that wonderful mane of hair tossing about his crown. "It's just a matter of simple observation. All you have to do is watch them when they are in the same room to know that something happened between them." Jim shook his head and smiled, slyly. "Damn! You know, Pav, you probably were one hell of a security agent," he whispered. "So everyone knows?" he asked, his voice becoming more serious. "I don't think so. Maybe Nyota, but no one has discussed it. I'm not sure that either Hikaru or Scotty have even picked up on the nuances between them, and I haven't said anything, not even to Hikaru." "Well, you're right, of course. They went through hell out there, and to tell you the truth, I'm not sure either one of them would have made it if they hadn't found each other. But that's not to say there haven't been some...problems...because of it. Speaking of problems, how much difficulty is what's happened between us going to cause between you and Sulu?" Jim watched as Pavel looked down, then out the viewport. "I'm not sure. I hope he can get past it. I wouldn't want to lose him. I'm sure that I, too, will have a lot of explaining to do." Turning back toward Jim, he added, "But I'll never be sorry for what happened...never," he stated adamantly. Jim reached out and slid his fingers down the side of Pavel's face. "Neither will I," he whispered before clearing his throat. "If there's anything I can do, if you need me to talk to him...you know I'll do anything I can for you." "I know," Pavel nodded and smiled. "But I love him, and I know he loves me. We'll work it out. That, I'm sure of." It was all Jim could do to refrain from leaning over and kissing him once more, but he knew that their time together was over. It was time to return the lives they had before this mission. But there was a difference. Because of the man seated beside him, a man who had been willing to share his light and warmth, Jim felt something he hadn't felt since before the Enterprise was designated a training vessel. He felt energetic and ready to take on whatever he had to, ready to face whatever came. The all-consuming barrier of self-recrimination and self-pity that he had hidden all his feelings behind wasn't completely gone, but certainly diminished to a level where he could begin to deal with it. He found that quickly filling that place inside of him was a feeling of renewal and optimism. Little had he suspected that it would take the still-youthful Russian only a few hours to break down that seemingly impermeable wall that he had spent months constructing. He sincerely hoped that Pavel and Sulu could get past this. However, like this man who had been his lover--his savior--in these last hours, he, too, would never regret what had transpired between them. Removing his hand, he turned back to the command center. "Prepare for landing, Commander Chekov." Pavel nodded and, through a grin of his own, replied, "Aye, aye, Admiral!" Chapter 16 Leonard had taken a few minutes to run through the sonic shower located in Jim's quarters and change into a replicated outfit, replacing the work jumpsuit he'd been wearing. If he hadn't been working in the belly of the Klingon ship for the last couple of days, wearing a layer of grime to prove it, he wouldn't have even taken the time to do that. Once he felt more presentable, he went to the bridge only to find it deserted. Going to the comm center he placed an order for a shuttle, and then set off in search of Sulu to tell him he was leaving. He located all three crewmembers in the corridor outside the room they had set up as a temporary galley, the same room Saavik had found him in just a short time before. Scotty was advising them that he had received a time-delayed message on his computer terminal which stated that in the event that Kirk was killed, there was a chip tied into the terminal in his quarters that was to be played for the remaining crew. There was a collective sigh of relief that this was one order that didn't need to be carried out. The shuttle carrying Jim and Pavel, as well as the ship transporting the hostages was, at least for the moment, safe and should be back on Vulcan sometime late the next day. And although Jim and Pavel wouldn't be out of danger until they were once again under the protection of the Vulcan government, the odds of their survival were definitely better than it had been just hours before. Leonard informed the team that an urgent matter had arisen, and he was leaving to go see Ambassador Sarek. He offered no additional explanation. Hell, if the truth was known, even being a doctor didn't help all that much. There were intricate details associated with this situation that he didn't fully understand. It was the damndest thing he'd ever heard. Sulu started to protest his leaving by stating that this wasn't the time to let their guard down. But it was Uhura's voice of reason that stopped any further dissent. "Sulu, I'm sure Doctor McCoy wouldn't be opposed to taking his communicator so we could beam him directly to the ship if necessary. Right, Leonard?" She directed her attention toward McCoy and gave him nothing less than her famous 'cat that ate the canary' smile. There were times that McCoy would swear Nyota Uhura was as telepathic as any Vulcan. He decided that she certainly put new meaning to the term 'woman's intuition'. But, the transporter? "Whoa! Hold on there just a minute. Are we talking about the transporter on *this* ship? The one that has only been put through basic trials with mixed results?" Sulu grinned at Uhura, and seemed to ignore Leonard's protests. "Ah! Officer thinking, Commander," he stated, and then turned to Leonard. "It's the only way I can allow anyone to leave, Doctor. There are just no guarantees until they're back on the planet." It wasn't that Sulu was wrong; it was just that McCoy hated the idea of being the next test subject for a contraption that he wouldn't trust even if it had been working one hundred percent. "All right," he half grumbled. "But only if it's a case of life or death! I don't care to have my molecules scrambled unless it's absolutely necessary, thank you!" Leonard pulled his communicator from his pocket and made sure it was powered on. With that, Sulu consented. An hour after Saavik had left him standing outside the Bounty, he was seated in a chauffeured aircar, winging his way across the desert. Glancing at the chrono located at the front of the shuttle, McCoy knew there was a good possibility that he would be interrupting the midday meal at Sarek's home. He decided it couldn't be helped. Saavik was much more important. It wasn't until he had passed over the city of Shi'kahr, and the vehicle had made the swooping turn to the north toward the residential area, that he began to feel the knot forming in his midsection. By the time the car began to make its descent in front of the estate, the knot had turned into a churning ball of pure acid. Had this been for any other reason, he would have told the driver to turn around. But that wasn't an option. Saavik needed him to do this, and for her, he would face the devil himself if he had to! Not that he considered Sarek a devil, by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, this would've been much easier if he did. Sarek had made his position quite clear with his noticeable avoidance of him since their arrival on the planet, since the day he had all but accosted Sarek on the side of Mount Selaya. GOD! He still couldn't believe he'd done that! With the memory of his actions on that day, he felt the warmth rise beneath his collar and the flush that he was sure colored his face. If he got the chance, he would attempt to apologize to the Vulcan Ambassador for his actions, and hope that Sarek would understand that he was damn close to insane on that day--it wasn't the whole truth, but he hoped it would be sufficient. In any case, Leonard had decided weeks ago that he'd wait until Jim was ready--something that Jim had recently made crystal clear was never going to happen. But even knowing that what he and Sarek had once shared was never going to repeat itself, didn't keep him from feeling those same old urges every time he found himself in the vicinity of the Vulcan. He told himself with determination that *this time* he would not play the fool in front of Sarek. The aircar settled in front of the estate and he handed the driver his credit chip, which was promptly refused. It had been this way since they arrived here, and Leonard found that it was getting pretty old. Not wanting to take the time to argue, Leonard shrugged and stuck the chip back in his pocket before exiting the vehicle. When the driver asked if he wanted him to wait, Leonard told him, "No." However, once the shuttle had departed, leaving him alone outside the manor, he wondered if that had been a wise decision. A hasty retreat may have come in handy. Watching the shuttle pull away, he shrugged. He didn't want to keep the driver tied up when he wouldn't accept payment, and knew that he could always call for another when the time came. Surely he would be able to control himself in Sarek's presence for that long. He approached the arched doorway and, with the small mallet, he sounded the miniature gong to signal his presence. Blowing a breath through his pursed lips and rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, he waited. The elderly aide approached the entrance and bowed to him. "Hello, Staull," he greeted Sarek's aide, a nearly permanent fixture at the estate. "I need to see Ambassador Sarek, is he here?" "He is here, Doctor McCoy. However, he has requested that his solitude not be interrupted," Staull replied in his usual, calm manner. "It's important," McCoy insisted. "I wouldn't be here if wasn't. I need to see him regarding a matter that must be addressed today, and in person. Please, tell him that it's imperative that I talk to him." Staull looked at him cautiously, then nodded. "I shall advise him of your presence. You do not have to remain outside while awaiting his response." Leonard glanced around uncomfortably. "That's okay, I'll wait here." He, Spock, and Jim had been here several times since their bonding. Leonard and Jim had been assured that as accepted members of this family they didn't need to be announced when entering the immense manor. Even as recently as the afternoon following the refusion, Sarek had made it clear that this was considered their residence. But without the bond still intact and Spock at his side, it certainly didn't feel that way. Staull nodded and turned, disappearing once more into the home. For Leonard, it was several long, anxious minutes of waiting. Either Sarek was in some distant part of the house, or he was refusing to see him. Leonard suspected it was the latter of the two. He and Sarek had only seen each other twice since they arrived on Vulcan; the first was the day of the refusion, the second was onboard the shuttle as it was being prepared for the prisoner exchange. Leonard knew that he hadn't exactly been on his best behavior at either meeting. Finally, Staull reappeared and nodded silently to him, motioning for Leonard to follow. He led him down the broad hallway that ran through the middle of the house and out to the garden. Showing Leonard onto an open section of the patio area, Staull stopped at the archway and stated, "The Ambassador will join you momentarily." Nodding his head toward the man, Leonard managed a "Thank you," before Stall disappeared back into the main part of the house. He was gone so quickly that McCoy had no chance to reply further. For his age, which Leonard assumed was quite old even by Vulcan standards, the agility of Sarek's aide often took him by surprise. Standing in exactly the same spot where he had stood eleven years before, his thoughts returned to that time. He realized how much he missed the feeling of having Jim at his side. Leonard remembered that although his heart had been completely committed to joining himself to his lovers, his mind had seemed intent on sounding one alarm after another. For days it had felt like a Deneubian bat had been doing a mating dance in his stomach--quite similar to the feeling he was now experiencing--and the anticipation of the bonding ceremony had him as nervous...well...as a bridegroom. Stepping from the patio onto the gravel path, he scanned the perimeter of the property and realized how well he knew this place--perhaps too well. The upper terrace and garden was set up to entertain visitors. There was a large covered area that adjoined the main section of the house where meals could be served, allowing visitors to enjoy the beauty of the property, yet still remain shielded from the treacherous sun. At one corner of the garden, there was an area set up specifically for the purpose of meditation, used only on late evenings and early mornings when the coolness from the nearby Sas-a-shar desert moved in, making it tolerable. And there was a sculpture garden that held some of the finest examples of stone carvings that could be found in the universe--and, like several that could be found inside the manor, many of them quite erotic. The gates located at the back of this wide expanse made it appear that the property ended there. In reality, it was only the beginning. On the other side of the arched gateway was the immense private garden where Amanda and members of her staff had cultivated countless varieties of plants, both ornamental and edible, many of which were native to Earth. The ergonomic irrigation system was one of the most advanced on the planet, supplying both the house and gardens with an unlimited quantity of water converted from the underground steam fields. This system, which Sarek had brought in engineers to design upon his marriage to a Terran, served as a template that had been used in other buildings and dwellings on Vulcan in recent years. Beyond the gardens lay a winding path through a section of unadulterated Vulcan landscape. Rising and falling over gentle slopes, the trail led to the family's ceremonial site. It was there where he and Jim had gone to meet Spock, and where they had been bonded permanently together--or so they had thought at the time. Situated adjacent to the place used for rituals was a small dwelling set up specifically for the purpose of surviving pon farr. It had been in that cottage where they discovered how difficult it was for their bondmate to endure the blood fever, and how deep the love they felt for each other ran. It was a mixture of pride, longing, and sadness that accompanied any memories of the men who had shared these last years with him. They had seen Spock through the madness once again, almost four years ago, but it was the memory of that first time that always caused a familiar swell in his chest. For all the turmoil associated with that time, he would have given anything to spin back the digits of the clock. How wonderful would it be to turn and see Jim standing beside him with a look of purest love flowing from those gold-green eyes, and so damned self-assured that his strength seemed enough to keep them both going? To know that that in just a few short hours they would meet Spock at the appointed place and begin to ease the suffering in that magnificent, beautiful body? How grand would it be to start the journey all over again, this time making sure that they avoided the many pitfalls they had encountered along the way? He looked up and blinked his stinging eyes against the harsh mid-day sun, biting back the rush of longing that was threatening to overtake him. That kind of thinking would do him no good. Every time he allowed his mind to wander back to those years they spent together, an ache gripped him so deep in his gut that the even most skilled surgeon didn't possess a scalpel powerful enough to cut it out. He had to face the facts. It *wasn't* eleven years before, and he wasn't waiting to be bonded to his lovers. But he was waiting for a man who had been his lover, albeit briefly. Sarek... Except for Spock and Jim, only one other person had ever come so close to capturing his soul. The very man he was waiting for. The months they had spent together on Bakswana-7 had been a stark contrast to the surroundings where he now stood. On that planet so far away, they had faced unrelenting, bone-chilling rains that seemed to have no end; death, disease, and destruction that came without warning; and long days filled with frustration and disappointment, followed by even longer nights. Through it all, only Sarek had made that time bearable. Due in great part to Sarek's kindness, gentleness, and understanding--along with an incorrigible streak of humor that often took Leonard completely off guard--they had survived. That fact alone, that they had survived the ghastly ordeal, often amazed McCoy. Even more amazing was that within that sea of desperation and devastation they had found each other. In one night, Sarek had discovered a part of him that Leonard never knew existed, and the Vulcan had claimed it for his own. There was a shudder of desire that still ran through his body when remembering the night they had made love with such sweet abandon. That had been the night before all hell broke loose. But that wasn't what brought him here on this day. He had a specific reason for being here, and he was determined to see it through. Attempting to get his mind settled, Leonard turned back toward the palatial estate. This was Sarek's home. No…this was Sarek and *Amanda's* home. Evidence of her presence was everywhere. Leonard realized he had no place here. What he had felt with Sarek belonged to a place on the other side of the galaxy; in a hut that was far from lavish; where Sarek was more at home in a blue jumpsuit than in the ornate robes of his station. He began to understand that what they had shared on that godforsaken planet was nothing more than an interlude--a momentary weakness of the flesh--an instant when the physical needs of the body had overcome the emotional needs of the soul. There, what they had found together had seemed so important. Perhaps it was merely a lifeline that they both had clung to at the time. What they experienced was nothing more than an insignificant detail that belonged in the past. His eyes falling to the ground, Leonard decided that had it not been for Saavik, he would have left at that very moment. "Leonard." The deep voice came from beside him. It was only his name, but it sent shivers racing through him, along with an unexpected flood of nostalgia. Insignificant? No…no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, this man was hardly just a brief interlude in his life. Raising his head, he turned toward the man approaching him. "Sarek," he breathed, then cleared his throat. "Sarek," he said again, this time in a stronger voice. Home/Next Chapters |