Title: Brother Author: Liz Ellington Pairing: Mirror Universe K/S Code: NC-17 Disclaimer: nothing is mine, etc. Archive: ask first, I'll probably say yes -------------------------------------------------------- Brother: For what has been thanks For what is joy For what will be yes Rafael Jesus Gonzalez "This whole thing smells," Kirk repeated sullenly. "Why should I have to risk my most senior officer just so some high-and-mighty politician can get his rocks off putting his status on display? And what possible reason is there to send the ship off to the other side of the galaxy while you're doing it?" The Vulcan's face didn't change; he just went on meticulously folding garments into his travel case. In the red glow of the Fire God, with ears like a child's nightmare of the devil, face immobile, and vivid imagination to supply a forked tail tucked out of sight, he was Satan incarnate. The dark cream of his tunic turned bloody in the flame, swelling, fading, flickering, as he moved around the cabin. "Dammit, Spock! Are you even listening?" Spock finally turned to him, wondering one more time, and this time with an unaccustomed flash of irritation, how often he would have to explain that lack of response did not indicate lack of comprehension, only lack of an acceptable answer. Observing one more time, and with a resentment he couldn't often remember feeling before, that his involvement with this human had so contaminated him that he would even consider troubling himself to make one more explanation. Kirk came into the sleeping compartment and stood close, almost against him, not quite touching. "Forget it. It'll be all right." He put his hand on Spock's arm, lightly. Not a caress. "I don't let anyone else see the unprotected side of me, only you. Sometimes I forget you need to see the Captain too. I won't make this any harder for you. Promise." The hand moved away. Spock caught it before it could return to Kirk's side, solitary. This was what he loved, the chameleon nature, the ability to shift in an instant from selfish child to passionate lover to assured leader of men. Captain, yes. In a universe where the best one could hope for in a leader was benevolent dictatorship, he had found Kirk. They had found each other, in a universe where the best you could hope for in your followers was loyalty to money and power. He pulled Kirk to him, feeling through the uniform the quick heat in his lover's body. But Kirk drew back, looking up at him with puzzled eyes. "There is no time, I know," Spock murmured in regret. "Just let me hold you." Kirk relaxed against him, butting his head against Spock's neck. "The one thing that concerns me the most about this," he said, his voice muffled in Spock's robe, "is your going alone. I know these people are supposed to be harmless, but it bothers me that we've been ordered a trillion light-years away on some pointless piece of make- work and couldn't do anything if you did get into trouble. I'd feel better if someone, at least, went along from the ship." "And who would you suggest?" Spock asked drily, ignoring Kirk's exaggeration of the distance. "There is hardly anyone more trustworthy than those with whom I am meeting." "We don't know them though, Spock. Someone from the ship might be looking out for himself, but at least he'd be a known quantity, someone we're used to manipulating. We could make it profitable for him to be watching out for you at the same time." "What about McCoy?" Spock asked, wondering in the silence after that question what could possibly have prompted him to suggest their alcohol-sodden excuse for a ship's surgeon. Kirk evidently wondered too, his features wavering between stifled shock and outright laughter. "McCoy?? Well, I wouldn't worry about him assassinating you for his own advancement. And that's about all I wouldn't worry about. Spock, you can't be serious." Spock said awkwardly, "He is less intrusive than many others." He felt Jim's curiosity at his evasiveness, but he couldn't explain even to himself this sudden whim. Something to do with his brief contact with that other McCoy, a feeling that there should be more to their own doctor than they had seen so far. Kirk shrugged. "It's a little late to notify him--I'd rather it was somebody we didn't have to get sobered up first. But if that's who you want--" He turned to the intercom. "Sickbay." The voice that answered was M'Benga's. "Find your boss," Kirk ordered. "See that he's presentable--stuff him full of Sobrin if you have to--and tell him I said to pack for a week planetside. He's to be in the transporter room in two hours." Startled silence. Then M'Benga said, "Yessir!" and cut the connection. Kirk snorted. "He's probably already planning how to take over the department as soon as McCoy's off the ship. Though I dunno as I wouldn't rather have M'Benga in charge anyway. Can you arrange for McCoy just not to come back?" He looked at Spock's suddenly still face and said, "No, I suppose you wouldn't do that." "Not without some better reason than M'Benga's ambition." Spock's irritation returned. Kirk's particular brand of savagery was sometimes required. But cold-blooded abandonment of a Starfleet officer for no particular gain was illogical. Kirk chuckled softly, an abrasive sound with no humor in it. "It's McCoy's lack of ambition that serves you so well, isn't it? M'Benga would notice missing drugs and remember. He wouldn't report it, but he'd find the culprit, and he'd remember. And someday, when his ambition drove him to higher echelons than a mere starship, he'd use--" Irritation boiled over into fury at the heedless taunting. Spock slammed him back against the desk, his fingers twisted in Kirk's tunic. "Enough! You have no right, you who murder in secret with your damned Tantalus device . . ." He was angry enough to strike, angry both that Kirk had learned of his pharmaceutical pilferage and that Kirk obviously assumed some sinister purpose in it. But the captain's face had softened, shocked and hurt. It was not an expression he was used to seeing. He released Kirk but kept him pinned against the desk. "Spock, I never killed anyone with the Tantalus Field." Spock raised an eyebrow in obvious disbelief, but didn't otherwise respond. "I didn't," Kirk insisted. "I only used it to check up on people, to find out what they were plotting behind my back. I don't mind people wondering how I could have learned their plans--that minimizes the amount of subversion, because it makes them more suspicious of each other than they already are. But when there's an attempt at assassination or mutiny, I want it dealt with openly. So everyone can see what happens to spies and traitors." Spock looked away. Only sensible military strategy, no more. Why had he hoped for more? Kirk's voice came again, softly. "I don't shoot people in the back, Spock." Kirk's hand touched his cheek and he turned back. "And you don't steal drugs without a reason. I shouldn't have said what I did." It was as close to an apology as Kirk might ever give him, and not even the hint of a demand for explanation. He decided to let it go and moved away, freeing Kirk's legs from where they had been trapped against the desk. But Kirk reached out to him, clasped his buttocks, pulling him back. "Your anger turns me on," he said, with the same dangerous chuckle as before. Anger was the last emotion that Spock found sexually exciting, but Kirk's scent when the human was aroused was difficult to ignore. Yet he hesitated, frustrated with their endless confrontation, disquieted with the impending separation. Kirk moved against him, teasing, provoking him, and he was hard, and angry still. He seized Kirk's wrists and removed them forcibly from his hips. "I have duties to attend to," he said harshly. Kirk made no response, just stood quietly with his hands where Spock had dropped them, at his side, his face open and still. Spock's own erection throbbed heavy between his legs, and Kirk's uncharacteristic compliance goaded him still further. "You may serve me, then," he said coldly, "since you seem to have nothing better to do." He pressed Kirk down, and the captain went awkwardly to his knees. He opened the front of Spock's uniform trousers, hesitating momentarily when the other's cock pushed free, then taking it slowly in his mouth, touching Spock only there. Spock clenched his fists, shocked both at the intensity of feeling and at the perverse impulse that had prompted him to this. He reached behind him, to brace himself against the bulkhead, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. He would have resisted the orgasm itself, but Kirk knew him, and his body responded of its own habit, if nothing else. And he had wanted it. The pressure built and crested and he couldn't hold back one ragged gasp. At the sound, Kirk's hands came up and cradled his balls, kneading them rhythmically with the spurts of semen. It was more than he could resist, and his hands shot out and pulled Kirk off balance, pressing the captain's head hard against his groin, thrusting deep into his throat. He felt Kirk tense against his legs, whether in objection or pain he couldn't tell, but the human didn't otherwise resist. After a moment, when the most intense sensation had faded, he released his hold in Kirk's hair and let him slide away. Kirk stood, watching as he arranged his clothing. He felt defensive and vulnerable, and faintly disgusted with himself. Dominance and submission was an occasional game for them, and this hadn't been play at all. "Was that what you wanted?" he asked wearily. Kirk moved close to him. "I wanted you to know that I love you," he said. He took Spock's cheeks in his hands and pulled the Vulcan's face to his. Spock jolted with shock; Kirk never said that, never used words of endearment. He could taste himself in Kirk's mouth; it recalled the times, few but sweet and precious to him, when they had made love in passion and mutual giving, the first time. The words and the memory destroyed him, shredded what little reserve was left to him, dissolved the anger that he had nursed ever since Kirk followed him into his quarters to pack. He crushed Kirk to him, burying his face in the human's neck, murmuring his name. Kirk held him back tightly, whispering, "'s all right, it's okay." The storm passed and he stepped back shakily. "You do that on purpose," he accused, though without anger now. "Push me to dominate you, to show your power over me." Kirk regarded him, considering. "Sometimes," he agreed with a nod and rueful sigh. "Not this time." "Why, then?" Kirk looked away, then back. "I'm worried about this trip. I can't tell you why, something subliminal . . . I don't know. Just worried. And there's nobody but you I can be worried in front of. So I took it out on you, all morning." He grimaced, but held Spock's eyes. "Childish, petty. Stupid to hurt the only one who means anything to me. I wanted to give something back, to make up for it." He did look away then. "Sex is the only thing I know how to give, and you weren't in the mood for it. I had to goad you . . ." "Jim." Spock shook his head, shushing Kirk's explanation. He drew Kirk into his embrace again, gently, lovingly this time, savoring the sensation of the firm body against his, the fine skin against his cheek. He thought about what he wanted to say, and then just said it, so naturally that he surprised himself. "I love you too, you know." Kirk tensed in his arms and he could feel the heat in the human's cheeks. Kirk muttered something he couldn't quite catch, and pulled away from him. "What, Jim?" Kirk didn't look at him, but he said clearly, "If something happened, if you didn't come back, you shouldn't have gone without hearing it once." An endless spring of feeling broke inside him, a subterranean rush of grief and joy mingled. He held it close, nourished it against those times when life made them both brutal. Someday he would share it, not now. Now Kirk needed his strength. "Captain." He put all the love into the word. Kirk looked back, a little startled, but his shoulders squared and the light returned to his eyes. "Yes, Mr. Spock?" "I too have experienced considerable . . . apprehension about this mission. You were undoubtedly affected by my inability to shield you from those sensations. I regret--" He stopped, seeing the slight tugging at Kirk's lips. "Very reprehensible, Mr. Spock." The smile grew more pronounced. "You might give some thought to what would be a suitable punishment on your return." Spock inclined his head. "Indeed, Captain." Things were back to normal. He could go to this accursed planet, suffer McCoy's presence, promise whatever would silence the populace with least cost to the Empire and the ship, and silence as well the nagging voice within him that said Kirk was right to worry. All it took was Kirk being The Captain. He laughed a little at himself, letting just the edges of it touch his face, for Kirk's benefit, and hefted his travel case off the bunk. The door opened for them and he stepped into the corridor, Kirk beside him. He felt good, his cock felt good, tingling slightly still with each step. Life was harsh, but not unendurable, and as they walked toward the lift, he set his mind to concocting an appropriate assortment of "suitable punishments" for his return. THE END