James T. Kirk loved Christmas.
He knew he was supposed to hate it. He knew he was supposed to be like everyone else, to approach the Christmas season with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach and increasing paranoia about his possessions, but he didn’t give a damn.
Christmas was a time of solitude, of hiding.
Christmas was a time of taking. On Christmas eve, for twelve wonderful hours, the strict laws protecting personal property were waived throughout the Empire, leaving the night open to those who were brave enough to steal what they wanted from their fellow man or woman. Property, of course, included values, information, bodyguards and slaves. On Christmas morning, whatever was in your cabin, was yours, no questions asked.
When you were as clever a thief as Kirk, Christmas was not so much a time of loss, as of acquisition.
Kirk was an accomplished thief, a superb burglar, and knew every inch of his ship. He knew the exact dimensions of every access tube, every airlock, and the codes for every security system. He changed them daily, using the positioning of pieces on his untouched chess board as a starting algorithm to enable him to calculate almost instantly, any of the 432 secret override passwords he ran in parallel to each of his crew profiles. No matter how devious and complex the passwords his crew came up with, Kirk was never kept out of any system or program on the ship. He had simply programmed an additional, unseen layer of security over the top of the existing system using his own passwords.
It made Christmas fun. He could place agonizers inside safes for thieves to wrap their hands around (it was very hard to let go of an activated agonizer once your curled fingers spasmed around it), get into his senior crew members’ cabins and pillage whatever he wanted. In short, he could do anything he wanted to enjoy Christmas in true Kirk style. One Christmas eve at midnight he had even locked down Deck five so that none of the senior crew could leave their cabins, then visited them one by one to demand sexual favours in exchange for their release. (McCoy had nearly hypoed him, but Kirk caught sight of him at the last minute in the mirror and turned around to agonize him. When he had his way with the evil doctor, he made sure that all McCoy’s medical skills were required by the doctor to heal himself the next morning.)
Kirk had finished the night beyond exhausted, then faked a red alert, waited until the officers’ quarters were deserted and locked them down again in order to acquire all the valuables throughout the deck.
So, with the use of his override codes, Christmas was generally a satisfying time for Kirk.
That is, until he met his newly assigned Vulcan crewmember, Commander Spock.
The new first (and science) officer arrived, with an escort of three stony-faced Vulcans (not that there was any other type of Vulcan but a stony-faced one) at the door to Kirk’s quarters, that first day Spock was assigned to the ISS Enterprise. Commander Spock was dressed in civilian clothes when he arrived, and Kirk could not help noticing the richness of the fabric, the intricate, hateful Vulcan script embroidered on his robe marking him as of the highest caste. Of course, thought Kirk, Spock could have changed into uniform at the Star Base before boarding the Enterprise, but he was making a statement; putting Kirk in his place, as it were. Kirk might be captain, but Spock was Vulcan royalty. Kirk had been quietly fuming about that even before his new first officer was officially assigned to the ship, and to have it waved in his face like this, in the form of the luxurious garment and supercilious expressions of Spock and his bodyguards, was almost more than the captain could bear.
The fact that the ‘powers that be’ had acquiesced to Spock’s demand that he be accorded the title of science officer too, irked his new captain even more. A ship could not operate efficiently with one officer missing from the command team, which was the effective result of joining the two roles. Kirk felt that it left his ship one short of a full command crew, and he blamed Spock.
The tall Vulcan stepped inside the doorway, carefully arranging himself so that there was no room for his escort to fit through the door behind him. This caused the door to remain open, ensuring an escape route, Kirk noticed. Spock’s dark, sharp eyes scanned the room, ignoring Kirk until he was apparently satisfied of his safety. He stepped further into the cabin and the door closed, leaving them alone with one guard each. It was as alone as Kirk ever expected them to be.
He sized up the Vulcan, whose reputation preceded him. Spock was already considered the best first officer in the fleet, partly due to his intelligence, but also because of his reputation for disloyalty to Star Fleet. A captain could never really trust a crew member who put the Fleet before the captain. Spock had reputedly been forced into Star Fleet by his father, despite his desire to serve at the Vulcan Science Academy, so had no loyalty to the Fleet whatsoever. Kirk knew he could work with the Vulcan purely on that basis alone. Despite all Kirk’s seething resentment, he could not help noticing the sheer magnetism of the Vulcan, the whip-like muscles and the sharp intelligence in those penetrating dark eyes.
“Commander Spock,” he greeted his new First Officer offhandedly.
A grave nod. “Captain Kirk. Your reputation precedes you.” Of course the Vulcan would have researched everything about him. That’s what Vulcans did.
Kirk nodded and stepped over towards his liquor cabinet, “Romulan Ale?” Perhaps something could be salvaged from this situation after all… Kirk could do with a new bunk buddy.
Spock nodded a terse agreement, but then strolled over to Kirk’s chess board and picked up the king, running his fingers along the ridged surface of the piece. Kirk eyed him sidelong as he poured the two drinks, then opened his mouth to say something. The Vulcan forestalled him abruptly, “This chess-board arrangement will no longer be of use to you. I hold the override codes now.”
Kirk felt ice run through his veins, and glared at his new first officer, a fire of quick hatred kindling in his belly, thrilling and hot. He smiled casually anyway, and said, “You really think I would have failed to anticipate that move, do you?”
Spock eyed him carefully, trying to read whether it was bluff or not, then for a second, a look of frustration passed over his features, quickly suppressed. Kirk caught it in the edge of his vision, and the smile on his face deepened. Oh, this was different. This was going to be fun. His previous first officer had been efficient, ambitious and… predictable, unfortunately for him. Gary Mitchell’s cold corpse was being transferred to the Star Base to be displayed in a stasis unit in the common area, as they spoke.
Spock continued to remove the chess pieces from the board, then place them carefully in two neat rows back on the lowest tier of the board, “Do you play?”
“I play a most… irritating game,” said Kirk.
“Ah, irritation. One of your human emotions.”
“You have no idea,” murmured Kirk, strolling over to his computer terminal and entering the code to access his overrides. The screen remained blank. He looked up at Spock.
Spock tilted his head, “There will be certain… requirements, of my tenure on your ship. I will prove an excellent first officer should those requirements be met.”
Kirk knew this game. He had expected it from Spock, and he walked up and stood far enough inside Spock’s personal space for the Vulcan guard to tense up and move forward to Spock’s side. Kirk ignored him and said, “What do you want? Money? Riches? Power? I can give you all three.”
Spock tilted his head again, and Kirk licked his lips without realising he had done so. The Vulcan’s face was inches away from his now, and Kirk was surprised at the depth of the dark gaze. Vulcans were usually like stone vaults, impassive and impenetrable. This one had eyes more like black holes, as though they could suck your soul in to their deep oblivion. Kirk felt an unexpected thrill run through his body at the alien’s proximity, but suppressed it hastily.
The dark eyes blinked once, then again, then the slightest of frowns hitched Spock’s brows. He said, his voice laced with contempt, “If I wanted money, riches or power, and to be on this ship, I would simply have bought Star Fleet and brought your ship into orbit around Vulcan.”
Kirk blinked, surprised but steeling himself to smother the feeling and answer in a glacial, indifferent voice, “Then what do you want?”
Spock’s gaze slid slowly down and up Kirk’s torso, then back to the hazel eyes, which were glittering with suspicion. The Vulcan said quietly, “Permission to approach.”
“I’m standing right here,” frowned Kirk.
“Closer,” came a baritone whisper which did something to Kirk’s stomach.
“I’m not deaf, Commander Spock,” Kirk’s eyes narrowed to glowing slits.
Spock made an amused noise, “Well, effectively, you are, being non-Vulcan. But we will ignore that. You asked what I want?”
Spock began to lean slowly forward, a move which had Kirk’s bodyguard immediately moving up to his side. Kirk put up a hand in a signal to restrain the bodyguard, but remained tense.
The Vulcan mouth came close to his ear and said softly, in that deep, thrilling murmur, “Vulcans do not want. Vulcans simply acquire.”
“Then what do you intend to ‘acquire’ Commander?” Kirk’s voice was just as soft, but suddenly dangerous. Others had attempted to acquire his ship, but found themselves very quickly put out an airlock for a deep breath of fresh vacuum.
He waited for the sentence that would sound Spock’s death knell. But it did not come. Instead, the tight lips parted and whispered in his ear, “You.”
Kirk took a step back and glared at the Vulcan, but Spock was unperturbed. The Vulcan said quietly, “And all your power, your wealth, your riches.”
This was out of line. It was Kirk’s place to make a move on his crew member, and for Spock to do so was akin to throwing down a gauntlet for the Captaincy.
“You just said you didn’t need those,” Kirk pointed out, in a harsh whisper, “Besides, I do the taking around here.”
“We shall see,” whispered the baritone voice, and Spock turned and left, leaving Kirk with a bad taste in his mouth, a neat chess board, and an unresponsive computer.
Over the next few weeks, the Enterprise crew learnt to fit in around their new Vulcan first officer (or, occasionally, died) and the preparations for Christmas began in earnest. Those who had valuables packed them neatly away in wall safes, and those who liked their slaves planned to sit up for the night with them.
Shiny bright chains proliferated around the ship, on doors, on drawers within cabins, and even on the shuttlecraft door. Force fields, although they glowed prettily, were vulnerable to power loss, so the old fashioned chain and padlock came into effect on this important night.
Sulu and Chekov changed the lighting on the ship’s hull to show red daggers on a black background.
Kirk walked into Engineering two days after Spock arrived, “Scotty?”
Scotty looked at him with contempt “Aye?”
“I want a chamber built on the hangar deck, in that spare space around behind the turbo lift area. The dimensions are on your computer.”
“You want the agony booth? Shut up.”
It was Christmas eve, and Spock was annoyed to find himself called to the shuttle deck at fifteen hundred hours by Mr Scott, over a ‘problem with the shuttle craft guidance system’. Spock had just sent his bodyguard to sweep his cabin for poisoned treats and check on his personal possessions, so he was temporarily without protection. Spock debated waiting for his minder to come back, but decided that there was no way Mr Scott could know that he was coming without an escort, so it was unlikely Scott had an ambush planned. Spock eyed his captain suspiciously, but Kirk did not even spare him a glance. Spock left for the shuttle bay.
Down at the shuttle bay, Spock stepped past the guard and called for Mr Scott, who answered him from within the shuttle craft as Spock expected. The Vulcan stepped up the stairs into the craft, and felt the hypo on the back of his shoulder a fraction of a second too late just after he ducked in past the door. His world went black.
Spock awoke to find himself back in his own cabin, and sat up abruptly, realising two things; firstly, that the chain was missing from his bedside safe, and secondly that his guard did not answer his call. Surely the fool had not already gotten himself poisoned? Spock rubbed his shoulder where the hypo had hit him and sighed. He froze when a dark, silken voice came from around the corner to the main part of his cabin, ‘Stay on the bed.’
Spock felt a chill through his veins when he recognised the voice of his captain, and asked, ‘What do you want?’
Kirk emerged into the bed chamber and spoke, and Spock’s breath was taken away. The captain was naked from the waist up, and had the chain and padlock from Spock’s bedside safe slung over his shoulders, sparkling metal against his bare, powerful chest. The black uniform slacks fit his form below the waist sinfully, and Spock caught the scent of real Earth leather from his boots. Spock felt his own chest tighten and had to stop himself from sucking in a tell-tale breath.
“I want what you want Spock. You want me, and I want you. A lucky confluence of desires. But desire is one thing, power is another. You see, you want to own me, to take all I have; this ship, my power, my money, as part of the bargain. I can’t let that happen. So I have tipped the balance of power in my favour by stealing the contents of your personal safe, and I am now demanding a ransom from you for those contents.”
Spock glared at the safe. He could see that it was slightly open, and apparently empty. “That is impossible. No human could have cracked the code of that safe. I embedded the algorithms myself.”
“Well,” Kirk smiled that silken smile of his and chucked Spock under the chin, “It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been called ‘inhuman,’ you know…”
Spock felt himself breathing heavily and automatically controlled his reactions, “I do not understand what you hope to achieve from this? What ransom are you asking, and what makes you think I will pay it?”
“Oh, you’ll pay it. What I found was more than valuable…. I was expecting a prince like you to have valuables, perhaps heirlooms, but of course there is one thing more valuable than all that. A thing which would only be entrusted to a prince; the planetary defence codes for Vulcan.”
The dark eyes tried to maintain impassivity, but Kirk could see the pupils slowly contracting with fear. Spock had assets throughout the Empire, but his main power base, his family history and most of his assets were on Vulcan.
Kirk smiled. “I have them. And if you don’t give me what I want, I will use them to direct my ship and disarm your home planet’s defences.”
Spock hissed a breath in, “Our enemies would destroy us.”
“Of course. I would not have to lift a finger, or implicate myself. I would simply stand back and let slip the dogs of war.”
Spock was silent for a long time, then looked up into the glittering eyes of the evil human standing over him, “What do you want from me?”
Kirk smiled and eyed him lasciviously, “Your complete submission to me.”
“Your depravity knows no bounds,” muttered Spock, feeling his stomach coil in tension, “You would threaten a whole planet? You could ask for anything in return, and yet you ask for sexual favours that you might have had anyway? You are insane.”
“Oh…. “ Kirk shrugged, “I know you want me anyway. But you want me on your terms. That would upset the balance of power on this ship. I want you to know that you have been taken, regardless of what you wanted. I want you to know that your desires are irrelevant to me. That I hold all the cards. And… it’s Christmas, I feel like spoiling myself.”
Spock, feeling hot and annoyed, began to undo his belt, “Let us get this over with.”
Kirk smiled and said, “I have four bodyguards outside, and your guards are nowhere within earshot, not even Vulcan earshot. Don’t try anything.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Spock, acting resigned.
“Strip down. I want to see you naked.”
Spock did as he was bid, and heard a hiss of appreciation from the human as he bared his long, lean body completely. Kirk stepped up to him and said, “Now undress me.”
Spock’s deep brown eyes were burning with fury as he did as he was bid, undoing the clasp on Kirk’s pants, slipping them down a little, then squatting down to unto the strange catch on each boot. He pulled them off and then removed Kirk’s pants and underpants. The Vulcan straightened up, but was almost immediately pushed back onto the bed on his back, Kirk following him and looming over him, “You will do everything I say,” ordered Kirk, and Spock gave a brief nod.
Kirk nodded at the bedside table above the safe and said, “There is a bottle of lubricant in the drawer above the safe. Open it and use it on me.”
Spock reached back and opened the drawer, felt around with his long fingers in the empty drawer and found the bottle. He snapped it open and applied some to his hands, then with a deliberately clinical touch applied it to Kirk’s already swollen erection. Kirk gave a throaty sigh of approval and closed his eyes briefly. He held out a hand to Spock and nodded at Spock’s lubricated hand.
The Vulcan’s eyes widened, but after a moment’s hesitation he used his slicked hand to lave Kirk’s fingers with the lubricant. Spock felt Kirk’s fingers tighten unexpectedly around his and heard the human ask, “What is that sensation?”
“Captain?” Spock noticed the puzzled look on Kirk’s face and suppressed a smile.
The captain said, “Are you… enjoying that?” and nodded at their entwined fingers.
Spock looked up and said impassively, “It is not as... unpleasant as I had anticipated.”
Kirk stared at him for a second, then shook his head and whispered, “I can arrange unpleasantness if that is what you prefer.”
The tiniest of smiles quirked the Vulcan’s mouth and he replied, “I thought my preferences were entirely irrelevant to this process, Captain.”
The quirk in Spock’s mouth increased a little, then Spock hissed as Kirk’s lubricated fingers traced their way down his abdomen and slipped down past Spock’s stirring erection and tightening balls, slipping into the Vulcan’s tightly bunched hole without preamble. Spock was surprised to hear a moan from himself, and a light chuckle from Kirk, “You like this,” accused the human.
“You do not know Vulcans very well,” said Spock cryptically, then reached his dry hand up to cup the side of Kirk’s face.
Kirk automatically pulled away, but the hand followed him and plastered itself to the side of his face. Strange whispers in an alien language filled his head, and the captain’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second as he tried to pull back… then froze, eyes closed and unable to move.
“Not very well at all,” continued Spock, his face hardening as he wrapped his mind around the mind of the human, and delved in to find out how Kirk had broken his unbreakable code.
They were still for a short time, then Spock whispered, “Duplicate cabin, of course! So clever for a human…” The planetary codes had been a guess, the rest sheer bluff. Even Spock shook his head at the ingenuity of the human. It was a shame Kirk did not know about Vulcan mind powers. The Vulcan was about to pull out enough after placing some careful suggestions for Kirk to hand over his assets whenever Spock requested, but he saw no harm in getting to know as much as possible about his enemy while he could, so delved deeper into the human’s mind, exploring, cataloguing….
Five minutes later Spock’s face was immobile as he regarded the damaged, magnificent creature before him. He traced the line of Kirk’s face with a new respect in his dark eyes, then impulsively whispered, “Forget….” And released the human’s mind.
Kirk’s eyes lit up again. For a moment he looked as though a thought had crossed his mind and he could not remember it, but then he carried on, unaware of the meld that had just occurred. His fingers plunged into Spock’s body as he said, “You have to know who’s in charge on board my ship, Vulcan.”
The Vulcan did not reply, and the captain hesitated, looking at Spock, whose face was turned slightly away from him, looking impassive.
Kirk’s mouth tightened as he worked his fingers into Spock’s body, then removed them and poised his glans at Spock’s entrance, holding himself in place. He watched Spock’s face closely as he pushed his well-oiled member into the Vulcan’s tight, hot channel. Kirk moaned with pleasure and pushed harder, and Spock twisted slightly under him. The human pressed himself home into the Vulcan and rested there for a moment, then murmured into Spock’s ear, “This is the price you pay for the safety of your planet, Mr Spock.” Again, there was no reply, and Kirk pulled out, then began to push steadily in and out of the Vulcan in short, strong thrusts.
Still Spock said nothing, even as the human was pumping vigorously into his body. Kirk’s body was hard and tense, and his breathing became ragged as he approached his climax. He was surprised when Spock reached out and grasped his hand, entwining their fingers, as Kirk lost control and grunted with pleasure several times. The human gave a short, sharp cry of satisfaction as he felt his body convulse with pleasure and his hot seed surge through him and into the Vulcan’s body. He was even more surprised to feel Spock tense under him in climax too. Hot Vulcan seed surged from the now-green, full cock between them. Kirk stared at it in fascination.
Spock said nothing, and the human pulled away and immediately began to clean himself up, almost compulsively. Like an Earth cat, thought Spock. Kirk’s voice interrupted him, sounding a little impatient, “Stop staring at me. If you have something to say, just say it. It’s not like I can read your mind.”
Spock’s mouth curled up slightly, “Nor can I read yours, Captain.”
Spock did not miss the slight shudder of the human’s body at the thought.
They dressed, and Kirk teased him in a quiet voice, “If you could read my mind, Spock, you would have control over this ship and all my wealth. It will be a cold day in Hell when that happens.”
“That is true, Captain,” lied Spock mildly, as he walked to the door. He turned, and added, “Merry Christmas, Jim.”
Without hesitation, he stepped out the door and in the right direction towards the turbo-lift: the opposite direction from that he would have taken if he were in his own quarters.
Kirk stared after him.