Lead Me Not Into Temptation

Series: TOS A/U

Character Codes: K/S

Rating: NC-17

Author: Kaki (kaki4@ipass.net)

Summary: Kirk and Spock desire each other. Can they live with the consequences?

This story grew out of a discussion I had with Jungle Kitty about stories without happy endings. After several passes back and forth, she wrote a wonderful couple pages of idea. She then took off in one direction with Kirk, I ended up here with Spock. The stories ended up in different universes, but we both had fun.

Here's mine. (BTW I don't consider this story A/U until about half way through).

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek and all the characters.

I've borrowed them solely to have fun with no intention of infringement or profit.

Claimer: Thanks to Jungle Kitty for the inspiration and a well- done review; Judygran for editing, comments, encouragement; and T'Marta for beta-reading and a fascinating conversation that developed out of the implications of the story.

Warning: There is m/m sex in this story, even a lot of it. If you are under 18, please don't read this. If you are easily offended or expect happy endings, don't read this. If you can handle some bad words, some rough sex, and a somewhat different view of our captain and first officer, please do read this.

Feedback would be appreciated. I'd love praise, of course. If you don't believe these guys, tell me why or what I could have written differently to make them believable.

Lead Me Not Into Temptation

Another day, the third with no escape from my thoughts.

He did it. Again. Now I have no computer access for a full week. Vulcans were not meant for this boredom. The equations I have tried to solve do not distract me from my thoughts. So much loss in my life. Truthfully, in his too. But he chose this. Human incomprehensibility - no Vulcan would have acted as he did. And as he has chosen, now I must choose yet again.

It began shortly after my promotion to First Officer of the Enterprise. I wished to go no higher. Those duties, along with my research and my duties as science officer, filled my life. My relationship with my captain was cordial and logical. Then Captain Pike was promoted off the ship and _he_ came aboard.

His reputation indicated him to be illogical, yet he had a brilliant career record. I found these facts to be irreconcilable until I met him and experienced the full force of his personality.

I was on the bridge, acting captain since Captain Pike's removal for medical treatment two weeks prior. The transporter room had reported the transport five minutes earlier. The Admiral gave an eta of twenty minutes to the bridge.

Lt. Uhura was engaged in designing a new program designed to more efficiently decode non-Federation transmissions. I was interested in her techniques; she was well- known as a master in her field. Thus, I was reviewing several lines of computer code, standing to her left at her station.

As I bent over the communications panel, I heard the swish as the turbolift doors opened. Almost immediately, I felt heat flooding my body, even a strong sexual awareness. I straightened and turned as Ensign Raman announced, "Admiral on the Bridge."

"Welcome, Admiral Komack," I spoke, but my eyes and every fiber of my being were drawn to the man at his side.

Then the Admiral introduced Captain Kirk to me. Our eyes locked. An electric current passed between us; my life was changed forever in that moment.

For much of my life I had known of the pon farr and its effect on Vulcan males; I had yet to experience it myself. But the sensations that day, and each day since in his presence, matched every description I had been given of the plak tow.

Soon the introductions were over as was my duty shift.

When my new captain asked me to give him a tour of the ship, I readily agreed.

We strode through the halls, never speaking, neither of us doubting our destination. I entered his quarters after him, heard the door close behind me. Then his lips were on mine, and my arms pulled him close.

We kissed, tongues entwining, we pressed against each other, hands grasping, but soon it was too little. He pulled back from me and raised my tunic. I tore his from him, then pulled mine over my head. Likewise I ripped his pants as he was too slow in removing them. Mine came off quickly; I believe I removed them, but he may have helped.

Soon, I found myself standing backed up against the bed, my captain's body pressed hard upon mine, his tongue thrust into my mouth, his erection rubbing mine as he rocked his hips against mine. My usual control had totally disappeared, the sexual heat overrode all else. I grabbed his shoulders, pushed him down before me. "Now!" I commanded as I rubbed his face across my groin. His mouth opened; I thrust forward. I held him there briefly, until I found it necessary to grip the bed to maintain my upright posture. He stayed. In fact, his technique seemed to improve.

He was darkness to my light, coolness to my heat, as if we were one in a bond never made. He knew the precise level of suction to use and did so. That first time was quick and I remember no more until my climax seized me, sending forbidden pleasure throughout my body and hot liquid spurting into the avid mouth of my captain.

I sagged. He caught me as he stood, holding me up, it seemed, with that hard flesh thrust against my softened groin. He wiped his hand across his mouth removing the remaining liquid trails. He turned me, in my torpor, bent me over the bed, and touched me where I knew he must. His fingers wet with my own fluid, useful and available.

His cock paused momentarily at my opening as his hands gripped my hips. I spread my legs wider in an invitation he showed no signs of needing. "Now!" he groaned and thrust. My cries joined his. His thrust was agony to me - deep and fast as our passions. The pain, a warning, surely, but the pleasure of his second movement, and third, eclipsed the pain as he drove into me, groaning his pleasure, grunting with his efforts. His hands spread over my ass gripping the globes, massaging and separating, pulling me apart to go even deeper. As my body responded to this invasion, I gripped his cock harder with my internal muscles, and he climaxed.

He fell over me, held me to him as a lover, or so I believed in the months to follow.

"My compliments, Mr. Spock," said my captain as he withdrew from me, sauntering to the bathroom to clean up.

"How about we finish the tour of the ship now?"

"Certainly, sir," I responded awkwardly. The logic of the situation had not yet become apparent to me.

We dressed; he in a clean uniform, I in my torn shirt. My pants had survived the conflagration intact.

"If I may, Captain, the first stop should be my quarters so I may change."

"Yes, Mister, I'd like to see where you sleep," he replied amiably, but with that undercurrent of sexuality my body was already responding to.

We walked down the corridor and into my cabin. I extracted a tunic from the dresser. It seemed illogical to profess modesty where there were no longer any secrets to keep, so I simply pulled off the ripped tunic.

"Spock, what's this for?"

"In Standard, it is called a fire pot. Vulcans use the flame as a center for meditation." I had leaned close to him to answer, and my bare chest brushed his shoulder. That simple contact was all it took to re-ignite the flame. I soon found myself naked on my bed, facing my captain as he knelt over me, a tube of lubricant from my bedside table in his hand.

"Again. I need you, and this," he groaned as he spread the substance over me, then him. I writhed beneath him under those fingers. He pulled my shaft to him and settled upon me, letting gravity position him. Such tightness, such perfect pleasure. My hips began to push against him, but he stopped me.

"Kiss me first," he commanded and I complied. Our lips met, soft and gentle, until he bit my lip, sucking in the aching flesh, then held his mouth to mine, assaulting the reaches with his probing tongue. His hands traveled my chest, pinching my nipples. Never before, with any partner, had this level of aggression seemed so right, yet with him each touch was needed, wanted. I wished to be ultimately aware of each movement.

I ran my hands down his chest repeating his moves. I flicked, then rolled, his nipples. He sat up, releasing my mouth, his breath in hard gasps.

I grabbed his cock in my hand, rubbed the wet, throbbing head, positioned my hand, grasping around the top of his shaft.

My other hand I positioned to lightly rub his testicles. He cried out incoherently, needing more.

"Now! You will feel more when you move," I taunted him, and won his motion. He started slowly, then sped up, each motion around my shaft, each withdrawal and return, giving me the pleasure of his orifice over my erection, while giving him the reward of my hand on his engorgement. He moved above me, hard and fast, focusing on the pleasure, the lust, until I screamed my orgasm and pounded up into him.

He smiled, catlike, sensual and knowing, as I shot into him. Then he moved upward, off my softening penis. He placed my pillows beneath my head and thrust his shaft into my mouth, seeking his relief inside me in this way.

When I had drunk his semen, he seemed satisfied. We dressed and toured the rest of the ship; then parted as if nothing had happened.

The next morning I awoke to the feel of his mouth sucking on my hardening cock. I don't remember when he taught me to use that word, at the time, I thought of it only as 'penis.' That day, my sensuality responded to him as my innate danger sense did not. I had not reacted to his presence as an intruder in my cabin; in less than 24 hours my system had ceased to react to him as a stranger.

He expertly aroused me, roughly handling my balls, sucking hard over flared twin ridges. As I gasped and thrust upward to meet him, he climbed atop me, using my mouth for his pleasure. The passion between us was strong. I sucked on him holding his hips. I thrust into him desiring his mouth, wet and tempting, need claiming both of us. Soon, so soon, we climaxed and were done.

In those early days, we often met in lust-crazed activity.

We sought every moment of private time to thrust and suck and rub each other in a sexual frenzy we could never control. Each time it seemed that all desire had been burned out of me, then I would see him, hear his voice, smell his scent on my pillow and the need would return.

Over time, we managed to sleep together on occasion when we had exhausted ourselves. Yet the overriding truth of those times, and these, was the need I felt for him and he for me.

Later when I experienced my first pon farr, I recognized the feelings of plak tow, that need I had for him whenever he was near.

With time, we became friends and served well together. I valued his companionship. He was an extraordinary captain for our ship, leading us through risky times and fascinating ones.

Never had I learned so much, explored so many worlds to such benefit.

My needs were simple: intellectual stimulation, companionship, and satisfaction of the fevered lust. All of these he provided me. I came to trust him as I had no one before.

During this time Vulcan decorum and Starfleet Regulation kept our passion secret from the crew. I did not believe it proper to reveal one's private life outside one's quarters.

The Starfleet regulations banning fraternization did not bother me. I desired no further promotions, thus could not be construed as attempting to influence my captain's judgement. Besides, with my life or death need to have a bondmate, I logically concluded that this regulation would not apply to me, a Vulcan, or to my lover.

On the 273rd day of our relationship, following 423 acts of sexual intimacy, an event occurred that caused me to reevaluate our status. He was astride me holding himself above me as I plunged into him, then pulled down and out of him. He was dripping sweat and laughing. The room reeked of Human and Vulcan musk. His organ I held in my hands pumping him in time to my motions. I had reached the point of no return and plunged into him to the base of my cock, "Captain!" I cried out as I filled him and he covered me.

As he panted his release, he said to me for the first time, "Jim. It's Jim, Spock. Call me by my name." Then he slumped over me coming to rest half atop me, half beside, his head beneath my chin. "Haven't we come far enough for you to use my name?" he asked. There was a tone in his voice I hadn't heard before, but rapid analysis led me to conclude it was wistfulness, a human emotion, denoting desire for something not yet fulfilled.

I responded to him, "I did not realize you would consider it my right."

"I gave you that right the first time I kissed you. Did you think I would fuck you and not give you access to my name?" He raised his head to look into my eyes, "You're my lover, I wish you to use my name."

"Jim," I gave him his name, then he kissed me.

In the next 91 days, I called him, 'Jim,' 127 times including several times while playing chess. These always won a smile from him or increased his passion as appropriate. In turn, he called me his 'lover' 36 times, he requested that I let him 'love me' or 'make love to him' an additional 47 times, and on six occasions, he cried out, "I love you."

I came to cherish these words and the longer hours we began to spend together. Shore leave on Carson III and again on New Madagascar - each time meeting after leaving the ship separately. Hours spent after sex, talking or sleeping.

Our reputation as the best command team in the fleet grew and we were cited for our unity, decisiveness, and team work. And we loved, as often as possible.

On the 387th day of our relationship, I received a communication from T'Pau requesting that I return to Vulcan to complete my bond with T'Pring as was the custom to avoid the trial of final bonding during plak tow. I had not seriously considered my engagement to T'Pring in years. She was there to serve me should the need arise, but I was young and the need had not yet come upon me. And now I had Jim.

I sent a reply to T'Pau informing her that I would not consummate the bond with T'Pring, that I had formed a lasting relationship. I requested that she begin the proceedings to sever the ties between T'Pring and me. This had been done before between many couples and should not have posed a problem. In closing I told her that I expected to bring my future bondmate into the family, but I had not yet formalized the ties to him.

The reply from T'Pau expressed her disagreement with my plan, but stated her logical decision to carry out my request since it was clear that my decision was final.

I thought no more of T'Pring for several weeks, although I began to consider discussing bonding with Jim.

I logically planned for that discussion. I chose the time and place carefully, knowing that humans attached much meaning to the ambience when proposing a bond. Finally a time came and I spoke. I wish now, however illogical that may be, that I had not.

We were involved in a very satisfactory act of sexual congress. Whether I would choose it or not, I remember every detail. I had chosen to allow him to penetrate me, my legs were wrapped around his waist, his hand stroked my hardness as he pumped into me. As usual he was very energetic in his pursuit of pleasure and had brought me to a high level of excitement with him. The sounds of moaning filled my ears, he plunged into and pulled out of me. His cock was hard and slick and throbbed inside me. My own was wet with my juices smeared by his hand.

One of my hands rested in his hair, the other massaged his chest in the way he often begged me to do before he came, rubbing his muscles, then pinching his hardened nipples. Our eyes were locked on each other's.

"You feel so good. I couldn't survive without this!" he told me fervently.

I tightened my thighs against him, "Harder," I ordered compelling him forward into me with my calves against his buttocks. When his balls smacked against me, I clenched my internal muscles, as I knew he liked.

"Yes, Spock, yes!" he exclaimed, and as he filled me, "I love you. Ohh, yes."

And for the first time I replied in kind, "I love you, Jim," as I joined him in ecstacy, covering his hands and my chest.

Moments later he collapsed next to me, his head pillowed on my chest. I wiped up the mess, myself and his hands, tossed out the tissues and settled in to hold him. He stroked my chest, my abdomen, then my flaccid penis. His fascination with my anatomy was strong, even post climax.

"I never thought to hear those words from you, Spock," he spoke after a long quiet. "Do you say that to all your lovers?" His voice sounded as though he was trying to cover a serious question with humor.

"You are the first."

"You know how much I care about you." He ceased playing with me and lay his arm across my chest, holding me to him.

"Yes, Jim, I know," I answered, then hesitated a moment enjoying the calm, "Yes, I know what we are to each other - friends, comrades, lovers. It is only logical that we become closer. I desire it, as I have concluded that you do. Thus, I ask you to bond with me, to join with me in all ways. Will you pledge to keep the secrets of my planet so that we may discuss this?"

"Bond, Spock?" he questioned, "That sounds kinky, but your voice sounds serious. And, of course, anything personal is strictly between us."

"Thank you, Jim. The closest Human equivalent to a bond would be marriage. On Vulcan, though, the bonding is mental, as well as verbal. We must seek a waiver of the regulations about..."

At this point, I realized that he had gone stiff in my arms and had not responded.

"Jim?" I enquired to determine his state of mind.

"No! No, Spock. Never!" He sat up and looked down at me, "I thought you understood. This relationship, the sexual relationship, must be secret."

"Jim, I have appreciated the decorum, but I would choose to change this."

"We can't, ever!" He was almost yelling now. He stood beside my bed. I lifted a hand to him; he ignored it. "We'd be thrown out of Starfleet. Maybe court-martialed. Never, think of it again, Spock. Never!"

"Jim, you do not understand. There will be exceptions for Vulcans for we must bond. If you do not choose to take this step with me, I will have to take a wife within a few years. My family has already tried to set a date."

"Oh god... Then you'll have to get married. We can't risk it, it's never been done. We'd lose the Enterprise. No one can know." He was quite adamant about this. His expression was one of fear, perhaps, terror. "I don't like to share, but,... marry her and come back to me. We can cope."

My shock must have shown on my face.

"No, Spock. Tell your family you'll come home for the wedding, or get out of it."

"Captain, I must bond. There is no choice. I would choose you. Please, listen."

"No, it isn't possible. Choose me if you wish, but no marriage, no acknowlegement. Never!"

He pulled on his clothes and left abruptly. "No, Spock," he said, as he left me.

Now, I know he did not know he was asking me to choose death or disgrace, but at the time I could only hear his rejection. He had not cared enough to listen, to let me tell him of the possibilities allowed to Vulcans. Still, it turned out he was right.

I lay there for hours trying to accept his words, to control my emotions. Finally I rose to meditate, but could not, and ended up exercising in the gym. It was almost deserted at that hour. My control was weak, but I prevailed. I managed with much strain to controled myself enough so that I never even checked to see if the sole occupant of the other room was indeed my captain although I suspected as much.

I set aside my disappointment and, quite logically, found duties away from him for several days. I sent word to T'Pau not to sever my ties to T'Pring, for I did not wish to die.

Eventually I was compelled to be on the bridge with him.

There I was confronted with the effect our discussion had had on him. His eyes were haunted when they gazed at me. Soon he maneuvered us into the turbolift alone. He started to speak "Spock...Spock, I'm sorry."

But it was not something to be sorry about, this destruction of our trust, this loss of our future. I did what I had to do. "Captain, I withdraw my request."

He looked relieved, "If you could wait til we retire..." he began, but the turbolift doors opened and our moment of privacy was over.

Now as I look back and relive those days, I curse my Vulcan memory training. My ability to recollect every detail served me well during my academic days and in the service, but now, I would choose to forget what passed between us, my Jim and me. I remember each touch, each pleasure, each penetration, each meld, and each betrayal.

A week passed after the turbolift incident; we spoke only on duty. I spent many hours trying to understand my lover's decision, but found no comprehension, only an unacceptable feeling of betrayal. I felt he wished me to die during the pon farr.

I knew he did not know what he had done, but the feeling was so strong.

I who had never considered sharing him with another. I who would have died a thousand deaths had I thought he would consider using another's body, sharing with anyone else what we had shared. I had been told to mate with another, open my mind to her, share her bed and give her my children. He wished this.

He wished for me to take another, to give her that which had been his. He whom I loved, desired me to sink into her flesh.

This I could not fathom. This I could not bear.

Finally I ceased trying to understand and sought mastery of my emotions. My meditations succeeded and I no longer thought on the issue.

Gradually we began to speak off duty in a semblance of our former friendship. And less gradually, and against my ability to control it, my need for him, my physical need for him grew until being with him created serious distress, difficult to control even with Vulcan disciplines. Then came another event that shattered my preconceptions of myself. I found that I could want, and take, without regard for the future.

We walked down the corridor discussing the ion storm investigation proceeding in the atmospheric sciences section. As we passed a currently unused lab, he grabbed my arm, pulled me through the door. Once inside he engaged the privacy lock - captain's voice code only.

"Spock," he moaned as he clutched me to him, his face already buried in the curve of my neck, the only word spoken between us in that darkened room. His hands thrust beneath my tunic, raised it, before he tossed it to the floor. He pulled back from me only long enough to toss his tunic to join mine. Then his body pressed against mine. He backed me up against the wall, his mouth attacking my collarbone, sucking sounds emanating from it.

His hands rubbed hard across my chest, running upward between us. My head fell back against that hard wall as I gasped in surprise and pleasure, all rational thought fleeing as it had so often between us.

His hands ran over my shoulders, down my sides until he gripped my hips and pulled me to him. He was hard enough to hurt as his erection bit into the soft flesh of my abdomen, his hips thrusting against me. I wrapped my arms over his, gripped his buttocks and thrust against him. His moan of pain told me I was as hard as he; indeed, I realized, as I paused to think, mixed in with the pleasure was the painful need to climax. My body was used to a regular flushing of my reproductive system and had not adapted well to abstinence, however logical that change had been.

My reflection was cut short as one of his hands slipped into my pants, grasping my painful cock. He stroked me hard for a moment, perhaps 3 pumping motions, then stopped. He removed his hand and I protested inarticulately, another low moan. Then his intentions became clear. His hands wrenched my pants to my knees, then lowered his coverings similarly. He ground into me gasping in pleasure. I met his motion with my hips. The feel of his skin against mine, an ecstasy I had tried to forget.

Instinct took over and I rocked against him, taking in gulps of air as my lungs remembered to breathe. His head moved beneath my chin as he traced my collarbone, then suckled the hollow at the base of my neck. The external world ceased to exist. The pressure and wetness of his mouth, the chill of the wall against my bare back and his warmer, silky skin against my other side encompassed my entire world. I felt the orgasm growing withing me - a tightening in my thighs and abdomen.

Then his hand grabbed mine, placing it over his organ before clutching mine. We grasped each other, pumping hard, hands squeezing almost painfully.

His forehead leaned against me, his mouth broke free to gasp, one hand gripping my buttocks, the other giving me great pleasure. He thrust into my palm and cried out, his warm liquid covering my hand and his, coating my cock. The heat of him against me set me free and I flexed against him, forcing his hand over my cock and shooting my semen over him and me.

He rested against me for a brief moment, then turned without looking at me, grabbed some wipes from a lab bench, cleaned up the evidence of our passion. We dressed in silence and left the room in silence. In the corridor he continued the ion storm discussion.

Later, I found this interlude to be another item to submerge. This passion without meaning, our lust with no future. The betrayal of my mind by my body and my mind's acquiescence. This interlude and the next and the next...

We did not share a bed again that year unless one considers the rapid couplings bent over my bed or his, or the time in sickbay when he took me against the biobed, as sharing. But every week, sometimes daily, we found time to sate our lust on each other. We no longer spoke except to voice requests or commands. I no longer called him "Jim" to please him, but murmured "harder" or "now" to please myself. I came to abhor these couplings, that sign of his need of my body and mine of his.

The acts that proved my lack of control. The acts that always reminded me of my mistaken desire to bond with him. The acts I could not live without.

He seemed not to care. He acted the friend in public and fucked me in every private space aboard ship. He used me intellectually to further his career and sexually to satisfy his body.

He used me hard enough to bring tears to his eyes when I came inside him.

The months passed, three, then four, in this fashion until our shore leave on Jacob's Planet. I had planned to avoid him, had even scheduled myself for a different time slot but fate intervened. I was walking near a placid lake several miles from the nearest town when I found him lying on a blanket, face buried in his arms. I backed up to avoid the intrusion, but he heard a twig break and looked up. His eyes were red, his face stricken. I had never imagined such a scene. He apparently thought I had sought him out and reached out a hand to me.

"Thank you, Spock. I've missed you. Have you forgiven me?" he asked as his lips met mine. For the first time since that awful night our lips met and questions were forgotten. We spent that afternoon and night making love, exchanging pleasure, not taking it. Our bodies gleamed with sweat, my soul was diffused with joy. I heard again those words of love and answered with my own.

Then his communicator beeped and Uhura's voice came through, "Captain Kirk, coded transmission from Admiral Komack. Shall I have you beamed aboard?"

"Give me a couple of minutes, Lieutenant."

He dressed rapidly, hugged and kissed me thoroughly, our eyes locked in unspoken commitment. Then he returned to the ship.

When next I saw him, his face was white with fear in the comm screen as he ordered me to his cabin. By the time I arrived color had returned to his face, it was now red with anger.

"How dare you, Mr. Spock? How dare you tell the world our secret? Did you wish to ruin my career? Was it revenge for my turning down your proposal? Did you hate me so much?" He railed at me, then his tone quieted to an awful whisper, "Did you enjoy playing me for a fool today? Did you have someone just waiting to report us?" There was hatred in his voice. Hatred of me. And hurt.

"No, Jim," I tried to respond.

"Don't 'No, Jim' me. I know what you have done. I just heard it from the admiral. A respectful request for an explanation of your relationship status came through from Vulcan three months ago. You were _investigated_ and we were found out.

But it sure sounded like he knew it already. So what did you do?

Call Daddy the day I turned you down?"

"I did not."

"Hah. I wouldn't believe you anyway. Traitor. You say you love me and look what you do to me."

"I only communicated my desire not to bond with T'Pring. I did not specify to T'Pau or anyone else that you and I..."

"And you never thought we'd be caught. Did you?"

"No. Listen to me, Captain. There are provisions for this. I will die if I do not bond."

For a moment he looked surprised, then stricken, but his face hardened, "There are no outs for us! I have promised Komack that we will never touch again. In exchange, we will not be court-martialed and we keep the Enterprise. He insists that we both stay aboard in plain view. Any inkling of fraternization will change his decision and the charges will be reinstated."

"Sir..."

"No, you listen to me. You will marry that girl! I will do my part to prove we are not together, whatever it takes," he lectured me, destroying my hopes. Then he continued, "I will hate you for what you have done to me. Dismissed."

My Starfleet training carried me through the next few minutes. I turned precisely and exited to the corridor. 3.7 minutes later I arrived at my own cabin. 5.6 hours later, I had mastered my emotions. 1.2 days later I responded to his questions on the bridge and maintained my control. 2.05 weeks later we worked out in the same gym at the same time only tens of meters apart and my control held. 1.14 months later we played chess in the rec room on Dr. McCoy's urging - for crew morale - and my control held.

I often saw him glaring at me when no one else could see and, a few times, I caught a look of such longing that I could barely resist going to him, but my control held. I came to assume that my logic had overcome my emotions.

But my logic could not hold up under the onslot of my biology - approximately 2.3 months later, the trauma of my first pon farr began. At first I ignored the symptoms, so similar were they to my usual reaction to my captain. When I lost my appetite and began to have difficulty regulating my body temperature, I had to face my condition. I tried to control the plak tow with meditation, but failed utterly. No mental efforts controlled my desire - for him, then for her. My body craved my lover. I became obsessed with plunging my cock into him. I ached throughout my body, but my genitals throbbed in agony - craving him.

My intellect desired him, too. I needed to bond and that part of me that could still think desired to merge with him in all ways, physical and mental as I knew we could if he would, if he ... And my mind was bound to her and craved her. As time passed this need to meld became as agonizing as the need to find physical release.

But I could not bring this need to him. I could not bear to admit my condition to him - not him - he who had betrayed me.

As the pon farr progressed, all the emotions I had suppressed came welling up within me, unpredictable and never resolved - only suppressed. I relived my desire to bond with him and his rejection. I felt again his hatred of me and found my own for him, for his betrayal.

So I waited until I could no longer control it. Several years earlier when I did not enter pon farr at the typical age, I had logically concluded that my human side would spare me the worst of the pon farr, that I could burn as a Vulcan but be able to control it as a human. But I learned the futility of deduction based not on fact. I burned, in my mind and my body. To live I had to go to him, to ask him to let me go to her.

It was only logical to approach him, but it was the most difficult task I had yet faced. Finally, after my hormones made me try to steal the ship, I requested permission to go to Vulcan.

He would not leave it alone, insisted on an explanation, required me to tell him that I burned, that my biology required me to mate.

He quickly realized the use of this fact to him and took me to Vulcan, to her. He, my friend before the crew, taunted me in subtle ways. Taking time to be with me, so I could talk of her, as if I would do this with anyone, much less him.

His presence in turn spurred the plak tow. Once when he came to my cabin, he fled before my heated gaze, his erection obvious to my needy search, his fear of me or of him succumbing to himself, apparent in the stiffness of his shoulders, the clenched jaw. I asked him, as he left, the plak tow overriding my logic, to bond with me even in our hate.

His laugh was dry and pained. His words bit into my soul, "I may wish to fuck you, I desire your sexy body every time I see you or think of you, I dream of you when I jerk off. But marry you. Never. You took my trust and betrayed me. You have proven what you think of me. You aren't worth my career or my ship!" He spat the words at me and fled through the door.

I leaned against the closed door, the cool hard door. *Jim, I need you, only you. It would not mean your career, there are provisions in the constitution to cover this. But I can do nothing about the hate.* I did not understand how I could hate so much and still need so much. I told myself it was the illogic of the pon farr, only the pon farr.

Only much later did I realize he did not believe that never-tested constitutional law would overrule Starfleet regulation and tradition. At the time, I had no doubt. Since we did not bond, this question remains unanswered. As do others.

Eventually we arrived in Vulcan space, and I exchanged greetings with T'Pring. My mind was attuned to hers and, still, to his. I felt his glee at this public display of my attachment.

Certainly word of my marriage would spread throughout the Enterprise within the hour.

We beamed down. I could no longer talk without distress. The urge to mate rose within me, as was expected in this place.

I saw her. My body responded. I was glad of this and more than ready.

He stood beside me, acting the friend and captain before T'Pau of Vulcan. But I felt his prurient interest in my wife, his glee in my situation. And I felt triumph over him - I would be bonded and achieve release - while he waited. At the time, I believed this was what I desired.

Then she challenged, and chose him. I heard him as he spoke to McCoy, claiming that he would fight me to save me.

But I knew him well enough to hear the truth. He hoped to hurt me in my fevered state, take my wife, and prove to the galaxy that he did not care for me. I protested this fight, but T'Pau refused my plea.

The gong sounded and the bells rang out. I faced him in my madness. In his eyes, I saw his desire to triumph over me.

Now, I wanted the woman, I wanted to kill him. I struck out against him and began to beat him down. All my early weapons training and my Vulcan strength came together to face this enemy. And he was my enemy, not my captain, not my lover. He faltered and I felt triumph - so many emotions released by the pon farr. I felt exhilaration that I would kill him, painfully, on the sands of Vulcan, my world, not his.

Then McCoy interfered, injected something. Kirk was renewed. He began to taunt me. "Now it's even. I will kill you.

I will take your woman over your dead body. I will have my revenge."

"No, Jim," I used his name to mock him in turn, finding the strength to say these words, as much weapons as the lirpa.

"No, I will thrust my weapon into you, then I will have the woman. I will take her as I could not have taken you. I will find my release with your death."

"You, traitor," he sneered as he fought me, "I will fill her womanhood with my seed, then I will turn her and take her as I have taken you. My cock is hard and ready - for her."

He thought to distract me, but I focused on killing, "I will triumph, Jim. And I will have your ship." A final verbal blow, then the physical one. His eyes held shock as he fell and I felt release.

McCoy pronounced him dead and took the body.

For a moment I felt as though I were lighter than air, the sense of release was so great. My hormones soared with the kill.

Until my mind cleared and I was able to realize what I had done.

I, a Vulcan, had killed; killed for lust. Killed a man whose only crime was being there when the woman chose her champion, that and choosing not to love me enough. I felt regret and sorrow.

Those moments we had shared in lust and companionship flashed through my mind, and I felt cold.

I turned to face T'Pring and found my desire for her was no longer; he filled my thoughts. I released her from her bondage to me. Logic, sweet logic, returned to me and I saw no benefit to retaining an unwilling mate. I took my leave of T'Pau and prepared to face my fate. As my logic returned, it came to me that I would face court-martial for murder and I had no excuse, save lust, which could not be admitted by a Vulcan to out- worlders, and would, in any case, be an unacceptable defense. I would lose my freedom, live incarcerated until my death in seven years.

As I strove to overcome the remaining dizziness, I began to sort out my priorities; those duties most necessary to be performed, I listed to be done before my arrest. As my first duty, I stopped in Sick Bay to authorize McCoy to arrange the funeral.

There I found that my captain lived. I reacted to this news in a most atypical fashion. I grinned. I expressed my pleasure to be spared a life sentence and my relief that he was not dead. I felt desire, the heat of the plak tow or him.

I left Sick Bay in turmoil, with him by my side. We walked down the corridor. While I attempted to integrate the knowledge that he lived into my consciousness, he began to taunt me.

"You thought you won, didn't you?" He turned his face toward me, so that I could see his triumphant expression, "and you didn't even stick around to take her, did you? Unless you managed it in 5 minutes. Hah! That would be a laugh. So did you? Did you slide between her legs, thrust into her, and climax before she even noticed you were there?"

"Captain, please. I did not. I left her to Stonn. Rejoice that you live. You do not need to see me suffer."

"I've only started, Spock. Hell, you got to kill me. I deserve this," he laughed, unpleasantly. "So you couldn't get it up for her? Did you need my help?"

I attempted to turn the opposite way from him in the corridor, but he followed me. I wanted to flea from his words and his presence. I began to feel fevered and unsure of my control.

"Mr. Spock, did you shrivel up for your wife? Could you only think of me? You certainly had the hard-on when I was with you on the sands." He was several feet ahead of me in the hall.

He turned to face me, stretching, arching his back, to show off his body, his erection clearly revealed in his silhouette as he turned.

"Did you want this?" He thrust his hips forward, a vulgar gesture, but one I responded to. Apparently, the plak tow had not left me, only the desire for T'Pring was gone. My body began to burn, my cock rose painfully as I stared at his display.

"Well, look all you want. You can't have it." But his body responded to mine, as it always had. I could see the need in his eyes as he saw my hardness pressing against my uniform; he could not leave it be. He turned away again and strode down the hall, swinging his hips before my eyes.

A crew member turned into our section of the hall. My captain stopped, leaned against the wall, hiding his erection from view, reaching for a wall comm, but retracting his hand as the crewman passed. As he leaned, his hips thrust toward me. He looked over his shoulder at me, at me watching him, "want it, don't you?"

"You want it badly," he taunted, running his hands over his rounded flesh. I now wonder if he was influenced in some way by my plak tow. Perhaps the melds we had shared led to some sharing of the fever.

I tried to flee, but he was there before me. "Let me go!" I begged, "The fever burns in me."

"No, I want you to suffer."

"You do not understand."

"I think I do. You want me. And you can't have me. We are nearing you cabin, your bed, and I'm not going with you." He turned his back to me, clasped his hands behind him, emphasizing his ass, then bent as if to pick up something from the floor, one last attempt to tease me.

And it worked well. He was always a master of seduction, but he had never played the game with a Vulcan on the edge of pon farr. My control burst. The next thing I recall, he was pressed against the wall, whimpering, "harder, faster," as I plunged my aching cock deep into him. He rocked his hips in time with mine. He was tight and hot inside, cool and soft where his back rubbed my chest, his hair sweaty against my cheek. I cradled him with my body as I thrust into him. The heat rose in me and I heard him gasp. He smelled of sweat and musk, of the sands of Vulcan, and of lust. I remember climaxing quickly, and hard, as his muscles tightened around me in his climax.

I tore him away from the wall, thrust him toward my cabin door. He struggled, not wanting my cock to leave him, even long enough to move the twenty feet. Finally the door opened, and I pushed him through. He tripped, or fell, to the floor and I took him again as his ass presented itself to me. I thrust hard and climaxed quickly - the plak tow seeking rapid release. I pulled out and moved the rest of the way into the room, trailing clothing as I went.

He stood quickly, his shaft still erect as I had not let him climax. He tossed off his torn shirt and grabbed me, "Not so easy there, it's my turn." He pushed me onto the bed. In my relaxed post-climax state, I didn't even resist as he pulled my legs up to his shoulders.

Then I realized his intent and spoke firmly, "No, Jim."

He ignored my words.

"No, Jim. I must penetrate you. I am in plak tow. It is needed."

"Next, Spock," and he thrust forward, broaching me.

"No," I yelled at him, just as the security burst into the room. Peripherally, I noticed the intrusion, heard shouts in the hallway, but his cock was inside me, his hand stroking me. We had not been like this for too long. His presence was welcome, more than welcome. It was required. He stretched me, filling me, meeting a need I hadn't known I had. My nerves transmitted waves of pleasure throughout my body. In the plak tow, even the pain was pleasure, but still I needed. "More, Jim. Please." I moaned and came. He thrust again and joined me in release.

Instinctively, I reached out to his mind to bond us, but lost my grip as he sagged after his climax.

The next hours remain a blur. He was taken from me. I was wrapped in a sheet and taken to Sick Bay where I was treated for my injuries incurred on Vulcan and due to our passion, then I was escorted to the brig. At some point, I was allowed to shower and dress. I heard his voice from the next cell; heard him trying to convince the guards to release him.

Finally, Mr. Scott arrived. His dismay was clear as he explained the situation. "I've been placed in temporary command while this is sorted out. Admiral Komack insists that you both remain in the brig. I'm sorry, sirs."

Is it possible to lose oneself in the past? I do not know.

But if it is possible, I am surely following that path. It is now late evening. There are two food trays on my floor; the guard must have shoved them through the flap hours ago, while I was lost in my reverie. Does it keep me sane during these times of confinement to remember my past? Again, I do not know. I only know that I am driven to remember. Perhaps, with repetition, the pain will fade and I will lose the need. And then my choice will be clear.

When I first came to this facility, I was placed in solitary for two months. I used that time productively, suppressing my emotions, beginning to meditate. I availed myself of the opportunities to exercise and remained quite fit. When I was released to a regular cell, I was given tough physical labor. I am a Vulcan, the heat of the sun did not bother me. In fact it soothed me. Long hours of repetitious tasks gave me time to meditate - the work served as a mantra. My skin darkened in the sun, even that which had never been exposed before as the typical prison uniform of shorts seemed logical in the heat. I wore the shirt only on cooler days.

I was a model prisoner and soon gained the guard's confidence in my peaceful intent. Then one evening, the computer system crashed while the only system's analyst was on vacation. My credentials led them to me. I easily restored the system and was asked to join the computer staff. I was able to effect many improvements. As a result of my assistance, I was granted limited access to the computers in my off hours allowing me to explore some of my research interests.

Thus, my days improved. I had physical labor, enough to stay fit, meaningful, if boring, computer work, and the chance to pursue some of my own interests. My logic seemed to have returned, and I was able to meditate.

Then he arrived, and I knew no more peace. First it was his name on the inmate roster that stirred my mind, and his list of crimes to force me to remember.

Nineteen hours, 22.4 minutes after my arrest, the charges were read to us. Mr. Scott's voice quavered, but he knew his duty.

"Captain James T. Kirk, you are hereby charged with: 3 counts substantial fraternization previous to official censure

(reinstated after subsequent actions), Lying to a superior officer,

Disobeying a direct order of a superior officer - failure to

cease above cited fraternization, Insubordination in disobeying a direct order of a superior officer -

failure to complete assigned mission Misappropriation of the U.S.S. Enterprise Misuse of said starship and de facto kidnaping of her crew Rape of a subordinate crew member

Assault on a subordinate crew member

Open and notorious public sexual activity Public display of genitalia aboard ship Creating a significant disturbance aboard ship Assault on a security officer

Note: additional charges are pending on the planet Vulcan, to be tried after Starfleet sentence is served.

Captain Kirk, these charges are significant and serious.

Trial is set to begin in seven days at Starbase 9. In the interim, you are suspended from active duty status and will remain incarcerated. Legal representation will be made available should you not choose your own counsel."

Then Mr. Scott turned to me and read, "Mr. Spock, you are hereby charged with:

3 counts substantiated fraternization previous to official warning Abetting the disobedience of a direct order of a superior officer Rape of a superior officer

Assault on a superior officer

Open and notorious public sexual activity Public display of genitalia aboard ship Creating a significant disturbance aboard ship

Mr. Spock, these charges are significant and serious.

Trial is set to begin in seven days at Starbase 9. In the interim, you are suspended from active duty status and will remain incarcerated. Legal representation will be made available should you not choose your own counsel."

The trial board convened as scheduled. Admiral Komack presided. Commander Adams of the starbase and Commodore Lee of the United filled out the requisite three-officer trial board.

Of these Komack was vigorously attentive and pursued the details of our disgrace with apparent enjoyment. Adams and Lee were calm and distanced as if they had not chosen to participate.

We were convicted in due course of several of the charges. There was no denying the fraternization charges.

However by themselves, those convictions would not have resulted in incarceration.

I sent a request to T'Pau to intervene for Kirk in his misappropriation and kidnaping charges and for both of us in those charges that resulted directly from my plak tow. She denied the request citing Kirk's unacceptable behavior in flouting Vulcan tradition and the private nature of Vulcan biology.

Kirk, in his turn, pled not guilty to the misappropriation charge and tried to defend his misappropriation of the Enterprise based on his desire to carry out the 'no fraternization' order.

When this argument was dismissed, he claimed justification due to my need to return to Vulcan to mate or die. The facts led to his conviction - I had neither died nor mated on Vulcan. The trial board's opinion stated that this defense was an obvious fabrication as my biological condition was clearly not as severe as Kirk and McCoy's testimony indicated.

This defense in turn led to my conviction on additional charges. The crime of 'attempted murder of a superior officer' was added when, in attempting his own defense, Captain Kirk revealed our activities on the planet. Dr. McCoy was forced to testify to those charges.

I have found it within me to understand Dr. McCoy's contribution to the debacle. He was issued a subpoena by the prosecution, thus he would have lost his rank and faced imprisonment had he refused to testify. More significantly, he came to me before the trial and explained that he believed his medical testimony concerning my physical state would result in the dismissal of the majority of the charges against both of us.

I tried to dissuade him from revealing my planet's secrets, but he was unconvinced that privacy was more important than two lives. Once he took the stand, he was required to answer every question without regard to his personal preference.

During his testimony, his anguish was clear. Thus his testimony, if disturbing to me, was explicable.

But Kirk's was, and is, unforgivable. He intentionally revealed the secrets of the pon farr and the koon-ut-kal-i-fee to the trial board and, thence, to the media. These secrets he had sworn to keep. He was also the instrument of my incarceration; no other charge against me was sufficiently serious. Without his betrayal, I would, with 93.7% probability, have been dishonorably discharged and returned to Vulcan. On Vulcan I would have been shamed, but free.

The rape and sexual assault charges were reduced to misdemeanor assault and inappropriate public sexual display as the facts were revealed. During the trial, testimony showed that Kirk and I were not alone in the corridor during the time I can not remember.

Crewman Sarl testified that he heard his captain yelling, "No!" as I pushed him against the wall. He saw me rip Kirk's pants from him. He reported to the court that when he saw my "thick, 9 in. long, dark green penis rubbing the captain's buttocks," he had rushed to call security. He had been afraid and left the scene. He did not return. Obviously his observational skills were limited as his report was greatly exaggerated, but I was not permitted to testify to the truth of that statement as I had refused to answer the charges against me.

Next to testify was Lt. Uhura. Much to my distress, as I had previously enjoyed her respect and friendship, Lt. Uhura had witnessed the scene. Her testimony had been forced in much the same way as McCoy's. During the pretrial preparations I had been informed by Kirk's counsel as he tried to persuade me to testify, that both Lieutenants Sulu and Uhura had been asked to recount what they had witnessed, including the apparent emotional content in the expectation that these impression would convince the trial board that the sexual exchange had been consensual.

In her own words, "We, Lt. Sulu and I, were walking along, talking about the unexpected stop at Vulcan and the idea that Mr. Spock was married and we'd never known. We heard moaning and the thudding sounds of flesh hitting flesh. I looked at Sulu, blushing as I realized what was happening. We turned a corner, saw the captain and Mr. Spock in the hall. We backed up quickly and blocked the hall to keep anyone else from encountering them."

She tried to stop with that, but was forced to elaborate, "I saw Captain Kirk up against the wall, a look of joy on his face.

He was saying something like, 'Now, please!' And behind him, holding his hips was Mr. Spock."

At this point the lieutenant was shaking and had to be given several minutes to calm down before continuing, "Mr. Spock stood behind him. His penis was very erect." She buried her reddened face in her hands until the prosecutor insisted she finish, "He was shoving it into the captain. We didn't see anymore, but we heard the rest. The captain and Mr. Spock, they seemed to know just what to do to please each other. It was sexier that any vid I've ever heard of... It didn't last long though.

"Then they crossed our line of sight as they entered Spock's cabin, or partly entered it. Hikaru and I had to back up quickly to avoid being seen. We heard Mr. Spock....he did it again."

Lt. Uhura required another break. The court magistrate gave her a glass of water and she continued, "I'm so sorry Captain, Commander. I don't think it should matter." Here she was admonished to stick to the events. "We tried to get farther away so we wouldn't hear so much, but we couldn't block the corridor if we moved anymore and we just couldn't interrupt."

"Please, continue with the relevant details,"

"After he, Mr. Spock, cried out, we heard the Captain's voice, something like, 'my turn.' He sounded adamant and really turned on. They moved farther into the room, but a shoe got stuck in the door, so we heard a good bit. I heard Spock moan, 'No, Jim' but it sounded like a 'yes.' Then the Captain said something, and Mr. Spock yelled out, 'Yes, fill me.'

"It was at this point that the security detail burst in. They came from the other direction. Hikaru and I hadn't thought to block that way. I guess we were distracted. Security came back out fast, blushing furiously as we all heard the sounds of passion.

Lt. Simons saw me around the corner and approached, 'I guess the rape report was a mistake. I'm so embarrassed. I hope the captain will forgive me.'

"Then another security detail ran up and burst into Spock's quarters. Soon they came out with the captain and Mr. Spock under arrest. Best as I could tell from what I overheard, Admiral Komack had sent orders to arrest them."

So it became clear that no rape had occurred. However, in being cleared of those charges, the inappropriate sexual behavior and disobedience charges were proven. The testimony also revealed that someone aboard had been monitoring our behavior and reporting to Komack.

Kirk eventually took the stand in his own defense and tried to blame that day on me. There before our peers and superiors, he told my deepest secrets: the pon farr, the plak tow, the need to bond. This betrayal of every aspect of my personal, Vulcan, life he used to explain his sexual behavior. As if he taunted me, begged for me, took me, because I needed him. I refused to answer their questions and we were both convicted on the lesser charges.

Then I was convicted on the attempted murder charge. I had no excuse, none I would give. Sexual arousal is not considered a reasonable motive for murder in Starfleet. Thus, in less than two days, and without my testimony, we were stripped of our rank, our commissions, and our futures. The memories of the trial are simply filed in my mind. Except for his betrayal, one of the many, the events were logical.

Three days later, I began my 20 year sentence. Already today, I have spent enough time considering those early days. So I will turn my thoughts to his arrival.

First I saw his records in the computer logs, then I found his cell assignment. I noted, attempting to feel neither relief nor longing, that he was residing is a separate building from me.

Thus I was able to go several weeks without encountering him except in my memories and in the occasional computer record.

The first time I saw him, I was in the outside yard. I had just finished a short lifting set and was removing the excess weights so that the human in the queue after me could lift them; thus, my back was turned toward the center of the yard. I felt the hair on my arms bristle, my heart rate and breathing suddenly increased, my mouth felt dry, and I felt a no longer accustomed surge of sexual desire. It took approximately 5.7 seconds to catalog these responses, correlate them, and determine that James T. Kirk must be present. I finished with the weights, breathed deeply several times, and turned to face him.

My eyes eventually located him as far away from me as the substantial yard allowed. He faced away from me - pressed against the fence. From where I stood I could see the whiteness of his knuckles as he gripped the rails. His shoulders were stiff, his posture angry, or determined. To my eyes he seemed vibrant with life. He had gained perhaps 20 or 30 lbs, and I longed to touch all of him.

I did not learn if he would face me. Not that day. My group was called inside before he turned. I took my eyes off him only by sheer strength of will.

It was three months before I saw him again. This time our eyes met across the cafeteria. He was trapped in his seat; I, by my position in the line. He lifted his eyes, those vivid windows to his soul, as humans have been known to describe them, to mine. I felt as much as saw the strong wall of hatred.

The force of his gaze led me to take a step back and stumble slightly. By the time I recovered my footing, his gaze had turned from me. I turned my back to him to select my meal. His presence tore into me that day, stole my appetite, but I was required to take sustenance. When I finally turned again, he was gone. The icy blankness I felt then stayed with me for several days until I controlled that, too.

Two days later I was given the task of updating the guard database. Through this I noted the reassignment of Lt. Ben Finney to the position of head guard for Kirk's cell block. The lieutenant was known to me from Kirk's stories. Finney had lost accumulated rank when Kirk reported an error he made. He had harbored a resentment toward Kirk for years, occasionally resulting in petty slights and attempts at revenge. It occurred to me then that Finney might attempt to seek that revenge here, but I subdued the thought with confidence in the fairness of the warden that I had witnessed in his assignment of me to the computer task force. I neglected to consider the benefit I afforded the warden in that position.

It was only a week later that I heard the first of the rumors. My Vulcan hearing often picked up voices that I was not supposed to hear. I heard his name in the cafeteria. Another prisoner was laughing at Kirk's reassignment from library detail to the janitorial staff at the hand of the new guard.

Three days later I heard that Kirk's exercise yard privileges had been extended to one full hour per day. The inmates were wondering aloud why Finney had given Kirk the worst job detail, then increased his privileges.

Four days later I understood the apparent contradiction, when I overheard the guards talking about Kirk.

"Yeah, I heard it, too. Kirk's in the infirmary for the next two days. Got into a fight in the yard."

"I heard Jenks teased him about getting into shape to get some."

"And Sonders taunted him that 'his Vulcan' was being taken care of."

"Hell, that's not true."

"But it sure made Kirk mad. I hear he threw the first punch."

"I heard it was Jenks. But they're both a mess."

The guards left the range of my hearing at that point.

Another month passed with no news. I did not seek out the information, but would have listened given the opportunity.

Then one evening, Finney strode past my cell. He did not stop, or even slow down. He did speak, "Kirk's mine now." Then he was gone.

He began to come past my cell or work site several times a week, sometimes skipping up to five days, other times making his presence felt more than once a day. At the time I thought he simply enjoyed flaunting his power over me; later, I realized these visits were part of his plans for revenge.

One day Finney passed me in the cafeteria and whispered, "He wants you." Another time it was, "He blames you for it." A third time, he licked his lips and stared at my groin. Another...

Perhaps there were thirty such incidents. Then he stepped up the pressure; he was determined to bring us together. I can only assume he meant to cause Kirk pain or see him punished.

Finney arranged for us to share meal time, but at different tables. After the second such meal, I learned not to look at Kirk; I did not know which was worse, the cold hatred or the naked longing. I began to lose weight. Apparently someone commented and I was assigned a new dinner time and was able to eat one full meal each day. Kirk looked tan and fit. His working t-shirt and denims fit loosely at the first meal. A tighter outfit revealed his physique at the second meal. Perversely I hoped he noticed me as I noticed him. Then I subdued the thought.

Then suddenly I did not see him for 23 days during which Finney did not visit. Toward the end of this period I saw Kirk's name under the 'gaining privileges' category. He had moderated a fight between a guard and a prisoner and received the appreciation of the warden. Then he made a suggestion that saved the laundry 15% on its water budget and had volunteered to teach in the basic skills course and was quickly recognized as a capable instructor. It was logical to see Kirk finding his niche. I knew him to be capable in many areas. I had also seen him recover under adversity before. However, the part of me that wished to see him suffer for his betrayal, that part of me that shamed me, but could not be totally denied, desired that his lot not improve quickly.

Then came the note that he was transferred from the E- type cells to the less stringent D-type. Notes continued to be posted commending him for service to his fellow prisoners.

Indeed my record was similar as I was successful in many of the computer tasks and certainly caused no uproar with any other prisoners. Then came the day he was upgraded once again, to C- type accommodations, the highest level an inmate with more than ten years to serve could achieve.

I was siting on my bunk relaxing in meditation having successfully cleared my mind of stress and settled in to solve some simple multi-dimensional time-space continuum equations.

My breathing was relaxed, my muscles comfortable. The door to my cell opened, startling me. He was thrust through the opening.

"No!" I heard him yell or perhaps whisper with such vehemence as to seem a yell. He turned toward the guard, "Not him. Please, Ben."

Lt. Finney just laughed, "Enjoy it, Jim." His tone seethed with ill will and triumph. He left quickly.

There was silence between us for long moments. I tried to resume meditation, but my rising erection distracted me. I felt betrayed by my body. But with him, my mind had never ruled.

My breathing became labored. I felt a sheen of sweat cover me as I resisted going to him. I stared at the wall until I could bear it no longer and looked at him. His eyes were fastened on my groin.

Still, he felt my look and met my eyes. There was none of the hatred there, not then. Only longing and fear. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it without a word, licking his lips.

He took a step toward me, then a second and I found myself standing, taking the remaining step to meet him. I remembered our first time - the undeniable need, the instinctive taking, the power of the passion and his scent, the soft, warmth of his skin, the whimpers and gasps he made and the moans he drew from me. And the reaction was kindled again.

We each raised one arm and our fingers touched. Just our fingertips and the sparks crossed between us. We touched palms, gripped fingers. Our eyes shut and we stood still, enveloped in the power of that simple touch. Our fingers finally released and with that the mental wall that had somehow been restraining us melted, and we touched with two hands, two palms. He stroked the newly prominent muscles of my shoulders and the ever- present hollows of my collarbone.

I ran open palms over his chest, feeling hardness, resilient muscles, prominent nipples. I traced down to his waist and raised his shirt as he found my waistband. We divested each other of shirts, then returned to touching. I breathed in his musk and watched him savor mine as I had seen him do so many times.

We stood like that for many minutes breathing in, savoring, stroking lightly, then harder. He ran his hands through my chest hair, rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers; he had always enjoyed my pleasured gasps as he did that, and I did not disappoint him, indeed could not have. In turn I circled his taut nipples with my thumbs, forcing his breathing to become labored. I stroked his neck, he drew his fingers across the tips of my ears.

The touches were gentle, but not loving. It was rediscovery and need. I had to touch him to live, and it seemed his drive was the same. Time apart had taught me the importance of memories, so I carefully stored each sensation, each detail.

Eventually our explorations expanded. My arms slid across his shoulders to his back, his wrapped around my waist.

Together we pulled each other forward, closed the few inches between us. His skin was cooler than mine and soft beneath my fingertips. His shoulders were more muscular than I remembered. His gasps were the same. His arms around me still felt right, his chest smooth against mine. And his cock was hard, so hard against mine. The shaft smooth of it rubbed mine through our shorts.

I shifted my weight slightly, felt the silkiness of the hair of his thighs against mine. He pulled me closer and I felt the moisture from his cock seeping through to my abdomen. I bent my head down to his, nuzzled his neck. I held myself back only with great concentration. I wanted, no needed, so much from him, his mouth or his ass, to be in him. But I needed the gentler sensations first.

Buzz! Came the sound of the lights out alarm. The guard would be here within minutes. We were both well-schooled in the routines of prison. He tossed his sheet over his bunk. I tucked in one end; he, the other. He added the top sheet and blanket while I placed the pillow and picked up our shirts, folded them and placed them neatly on the shelf. We were undressed, shorts joining shirts, shoes lined up on the floor, and in our own bunks within 3 minutes. The guard passed by 30 seconds later, laughing to himself, "Guess Finney was wrong." I do not think Jim heard.

Lights went out four minutes after that. He waited ninety-seven seconds before he jumped off his bunk, knelt beside mine, and slid his hand under my blanket, down into my briefs.

When he touched me, I do not know which of us reacted more strongly. My sudden intake of breath matched his gasp. He slid his hand around my cock, pumped it several times. My hips moved in time with him, but the bunk squeaked loudly.

I sat, then stood. His hand dropped from me. He stood as I pulled my blanket from the bunk, folded it in half and made a minimal pad on the floor. I stripped completely as he had, knelt and drew him to me, taking his cock into my mouth. The room was dark, only the emergency light in the hall illuminated us.

His skin glowed softly in the reddish light, but I could not see his face. My face was surely shielded from his view. But I could feel his reaction to my lips as they closed over him. I ran my hands up his thighs, then behind him to cup his buttocks, to hold him upright, to hold him to me.

I took as much of him as I could into my mouth, savored the silky skin, the bouncy feel of his ridge against my lips. I licked him slowly, finding each blood vessel, each swell. I tongued his ridge and the sensitive juncture where the flaring merged. I memorized each square millimeter, noted the changes in his breathing. I took my time and pleased myself. It was clear he enjoyed the attention, but I gave it to serve my needs.

Soon he was leaking semen into my mouth and I knew I would take his climax from him. Always this battle between us, even when we were tender and played the lovers. I sucked him, bobbed my head and swallowed as he came. His body quivered in my arms and I lowered him to the blanket so that he would not fall and alert the guards to our activity. It was not against the rules, but I did not wish to provide entertainment for anyone else.

He fell into my arms, lay against me as I knelt, breathed heavily against my neck. I held him in my arms and waited.

Eventually he regained his composure and knelt in front of me. I leaned back from my kneeling position to sit on my feet. I spread my knees apart. I reached for him, cupped his face in my hands, caressed his cheeks, then pulled him toward me and pushed him down until he was on hands and knees in front of me. I pressed his face into my groin, my cock to his lips. He took me in and suckled me, taking my cock into his throat, using his tongue as I had, using those motions he knew would draw the most pleasure from me.

I do not know what thoughts were in his mind as he worked over me, nor did I care at the time. I took the pleasure he gave, craved more. I pushed him closer, flexed my hips to show him the motion I needed. He gave it to me. His mouth was wet and tight, his tongue rough and fast. He knew me so well. And when I could take no more, he sucked my semen from me, cupping my balls to encourage them to feed him.

This brought a small gasp from me, although I tried to contain it.

"Keep it down, boys," came a laugh from the next cell.

Kirk stood, pulled me up. We returned to our bunks quickly, just before the guard showed up on his rounds. I heard Kirk's slowing breathing and I, too, slept.

Hours later, I felt a hand on my shoulder as he drew me to him again. This time, there was simply need, no gentle foreplay, just quick sucking and release before returning to bed.

Then, just before the morning bell, he knelt beside me again and stroked my cock. I freed one arm to stroke his in turn until we both came forcefully and quickly. Our need had not diminished over the months of separation.

This time, though, we made a mess. Conveniently, at this time of the morning, we could rise and clean up without undue notice.

We were separated shortly as we headed to our jobs.

That evening, I returned somewhat late from dinner as I had been detained to solve another system glitch. Seated on my bed, he greeted me angrily, spoke the first words between us since the trial, "Takes the guard to bring you home to me, Spock? Trying to betray me again? What did you say to the warden today?" He spoke bitterly. Obviously something had triggered his anger.

"I did not betray you, then or now," I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. He turned his back to me, pretended to read a book. I knew that arguing would solve nothing, so I walked across the cell to stand behind him.

I placed my hand lightly on his shoulder is a gesture that years earlier aboard the Enterprise had been sure to calm him.

He jerked away from my touch. "Don't you dare to presume to ...." he sputtered in anger. I turned toward our shelf intending to pick up my technical journal. He grabbed me, shoved me roughly toward the bunks pressing my chest into the side of the top bunk. He held me with one hand on my shoulder. Then slid the other across my hips suggestively, "I'll let you know when you may touch me." He released me, sat down on my bunk, pulled his knees up and stared at the bars.

I believe he meant to humiliate me. However, between us, nothing proceeded as expected. Instead my lust was triggered. I desired that hand, that touch. But now was not the time. I picked up my journal, sank to a comfortable cross-legged position on the floor. I remained thus until the lights out signal.

With that signal, I undressed, completely, as seemed expedient since Kirk had moved in, and lay on my bunk, waiting.

9.8 minutes later, he jumped down from his bunk, tossed my covers to the floor, yanked on my arm. I let him pull me to him, accepted his pushing me to the floor. He smoothed something over me (later I was appreciative of that lotion his laundry duties had afforded him) and took me quickly. Only the fact that my face was pillowed on my arm, my mouth effectively sealed shut, kept me from crying out - first in pain, later in glory. He took me in anger and lust and, although there were many pleasurable sensations involved, I have chosen not to remember each detail.

Soon enough he climaxed and fell across my back, panting. When he lifted himself, I rolled out from under him, pulled him to me and led his mouth to my cock. He licked slowly as he regained his breath. The anger had apparently been spent with his orgasm for he proceeded to take care of me efficiently and with some skill.

Through the course of the night, I ascertained that he had been ridiculed during the day for being stuck with 'that cold-fish, the Vulcan,' and for losing his ship for consorting. Apparently one of the men in the laundry taunted him with "How does it feel to be jailed with someone like that?" I determined that his anger over the situation, the loss of his life, and his belief that I caused it had 'boiled over' - an apt human expression. Perhaps there was also some anger that the taunter had demeaned me. I do not know, but at the time I believed it so.

During later reflections, I came to realize that this must have been the result Finney intended, to let Kirk suffer these taunts and to be reminded every day of his loss, and of the cause.

Logically, Finney harassed me either assuming that it would add to Kirk's burden or to hurt one he thought Kirk cared about.

Kirk did not come to me again that night. But every night for the next three months, he came to me as least once, usually twice, unless I approached him first. Usually we were gentle, although rarely tender. Sometimes he took me in anger at me or at his life, and I occasionally used him the same way. We rarely spoke outside of whispered orders during sex, but we seemed more at peace than we had been since Admiral Komack's order to cease our relationship. I had my computer work and had gained access to additional computer time for research. I considered my life acceptable.

Then came a new time of trial. Kirk and many of the others acquired food poisoning from ill-prepared meat. He required 2 nights and 3 days in the infirmary. It was our first overnight separation during these months.

The first night, once assured he would be healthy soon, I enjoyed the solitude and meditated most of the night. The second evening I found, illogically, that I missed him, the smell of him, his presence in the cell. That night I craved his body, dreamed erotic dreams of him. In the morning the inmates in the adjoining cell teased me for calling his name in the night. "Never heard you do that when he's there," and "keep it down, mate, would you. Got me wishing for some, too." I agreed, then ignored them, they seemed only to be offering oddly human comfort.

After work and dinner, I returned to our cell. He was there but asleep. He looked pale, so I let him rest, although my libido instructed me to do otherwise.

The next evening I returned home with undo haste, planning to assuage my desire. He was there, alert and well- rested, but angry, angrier than I had seen him since our trial.

"You whore! You Vulcan whore," he whispered at me, the hatred all the stronger for the quiet. "I was sick, so you fucked the orderlies."

"I did not."

"I heard them talking. You came to check on me. They wouldn't let you see me, but offered to 'take care of you.' And you let them. Two of them! They talked about it all the next day. First you sucked Davis, because you 'missed the taste of a human,' then you let A'du'klz fuck your ass til you came all over yourself and the floor."

"I did not. I was not even able to visit the infirmary," I responded, maintaining my calm.

"I heard them. Davis talked about your ridges and that gorgeous tan line. So beautiful you have made yourself since you've been here, hah. And A'du'klz went on and on about the heat of you. How could they know about that unless they were with you?"

"Perhaps one of them has seen me shower. And my body temperature is surely no secret."

"Liar. I've seen you outside, working without your shirt, tempting us poor, susceptible humans." And with that he launched himself at me, but was too weak to hurt me. That night he lay beneath me as we mouthed each other. He was warm and hard and needy. He was musky, human, and angry. He came to me because it was necessary. I remember feeling pleasure and exhaustion as I climaxed. That night he needed more than he could take. After I came and his mouth was free, he began to exhort me to perform more forcefully, to "suck harder," "squeeze my balls," "move faster," and others of similar ilk.

Nothing seemed to suffice and his volume increased. I tried to restrain him, but "please, keep your voice down" was met only with "don't stop, you traitor! I need more!"

Eventually he grew tired, relaxed somewhat and managed to climax albeit weakly. His pleasured grunt arose just as the guard descended, having heard the noise. Finney was there, triumphant. Apparently he had bribed the other guards to call him should we be caught.

We were punished for our disturbance. He was returned to laundry duty; I was given extra hours mopping and scrubbing pots. When we were deemed sufficiently penitent, our lives returned to normal.

Again several months passed before another incident occurred. This time was an accident. I fell on him when we lost our balance and broke his wrist. This time I appealed to the warden and discovered that he cared only for peace in the facility.

He was more than willing to trust the guards completely. My protests went unheard. Thus I learned my place in this prison; I was useful with the computers, but not a being with rights and thoughts to consider.

After Kirk recuperated, he was given janitorial duties for the noise and the negligence to his well-being. I was given solitary for one week and extra duty when I was released.

Our reunion that time was gentle. He had missed me and I, him, and the cause was accidental. We held each other for long hours and kissed, deep, warm, sharing kisses.

But our hatred surfaced again over the following weeks.

In my free time, I began to long for peace and to consider alternatives to this life.

Then five days ago, a newspaper was shoved into our cell during the night. It showed pictures of Captain Sulu and his first officer, Commander Uhura. The accompanying story told of their triumph over the Romulans in a border skirmish during which they determined the whereabouts of a lost Earth colony, thus allowing Earth to save a once-thriving colony from starvation due to Romulan attacks. Sulu and Uhura were lauded as heroes.

I received the news as a Vulcan. I expressed my satisfaction that the Enterprise was so well served by our replacements. Kirk, as a human, was less able to maintain his equilibrium.

When the next night brought another paper, this time featuring a smiling Uhura and Sulu discussing their reaction to a change in fraternization rules, "It's about time. We've worked so hard for it," proclaimed Uhura. "I hope that in time the changes can be made retroactive," Sulu was quoted. Then the reporter noted that that morning Sulu and Uhura had filed official notice that they planned to start a relationship. "I hope it works out. This does make it very public," she laughed.

Kirk was quiet for a time, but I could see the anger in him. Anger that he had been caught before the rules were changed; anger that someone else commanded his ship; anger that those who testified against us, however unwillingly, were enjoying the lives we should have been living. Indeed later he shouted these complaints at me as if I could change our reality.

Eventually, the lights were turned out. I approached him shortly, seeking to offer comfort sexually; words could not suffice. I ached for his pain and for his body. He accepted me, took me angrily as I knew he would, but the pain was brief and the pleasure great. He stoked me to completion before he came inside me. We collapsed together onto the blanket on the floor.

But when I attempted to hold him, his anger emerged, stronger, violent.

He stood, grabbed a chair (one of our new chairs, only recently acquired after months of saving prison credit units), swung at me, broke the chair over my head. And as he swung he began shouting obscenities, blaming me for his situation, blaming me for his life, for our downfall, for everything. I protested the accusations and took the chair from him. I grabbed him and held him tightly to me as his angry shouts turned to sobs. But by then the damage was done. The guards had arrived, Finney in the lead. I was not hurt by the chair, thus he was not accused of harming me. But he was taken away to serve time for the disturbance and the breaking of property. For my part, innocent though I was, I was confined to this room for the week and stripped of all computer privileges. Forced to stay here day after day, with nothing to relieve the tedium save my thoughts, my memories.

This morning I received a communique from T'Pau. It is possible that the Vulcan planetary government could, with the right incentives, request that the remainder of my sentence be commuted to be spent at Gol. In Vulcan law, I would not have been guilty of a crime, violence is expected under the circumstances of koon-ut-kal-i-fee. The facts that I was not able to control myself in public aboard ship and that I requested the breaking of the bond with T'Pring, then followed with the withdrawal of that request led T'Pau, and my father, to conclude that I needed the trials of Gol. My emotions were deemed to be in need of control. And where better to learn than Gol. I would be remiss not to consider the offer.

My existence here with him, my tormentor and my life's blood, or the emotionless plains of Gol. Neither will be easy.

Neither is without benefit. My planet and my species beckon.

Yet my mind and my body yearn for his return. I try to choose, yet I think of him and remember: his intensity, his energy, his caring, his passion, his warm, sweet mouth, his smooth....

End story