IN SHADOW AND IN DARKNESS
I must have loved him once, I guess. After all, I was the one
who
started it all, so I must have been in love. Or
lust. It
was so long ago that I can't even remember.
Everyone loved him back then on the Enterprise. He was
Everyman's
golden idol. He had the power and the glory and the
charm.
By god, he had the charm. By god, even now he still
does. I
must have loved him then, I suppose. Or maybe it was only the
cry
of my middle-aged body in its loneliest hour of need.
Oh, I loved him as my captain, of course. I would have died
for
him. I would have killed for him. I would have
followed him
through the gates of hell. As the unparalleled leader he is,
I
still would, without pause or regret.
But in place of this, somehow he followed me into the darkness of my
bedroom instead. I would rather have had it the other way
around. Or maybe I did. Maybe that was the gates of
hell. Maybe it is.
His weight bears down upon me and his body moves within me.
The
vidscreen plays some broadcast programming beside us in the
room. My face is so tightly pressed into the pillow
that I
can barely breathe. Perhaps if I press a little harder, the
hypoxemia will take my consciousness away. Perhaps if I lift
my
ass a little higher it will be over sooner and my captain and my friend
will return. Perhaps if I seem as if his invasions pleasure
me,
he'll get off sooner and leave happier. And maybe if he stays
happy for a while he won't need to return to me at night.
I try all three at once.
Jim clenches my hips and slams into me harder, but his strokes are
still purposeful and even, with no hint of a crack in that famous
self-control.
In 2207 a transplanetary quake demolished the pre-warp world of
Franchesco VI. That was a terrible disaster, a
calamity. It
was very sad, but no one called it a tragedy. Not until the
emergency record buoys were reviewed and the truth revealed. The quake
had been caused by deep-core mining for fuel. The engineers
had
assessed a tiny chance of a catastrophic failure and unanimously
recommended against proceeding. But the people had needed
their
luxuries, so it went on. Ten years later, when the first
tectonic
shift was felt, it was too late. In a moment of greed, Franchesco had
sealed its own fate.
And now people called it a tragedy.
So it is with me, I think as I groan under his weight. His
hands
are hot and clammy on my skin. Oddly, their feel bothers me
more
even than the pressure in my guts. It's more personal, more a
part of the friend I know and talk to and work with in the
daylight. I squirm to break their hold, but of
course it's
useless against him, and the strong fingers only bite harder into my
sides. The air now reeks strongly of rutting sex. I
bury my
nose fully into the pillow and twist to press my nostrils
closed.
I can only close one at a time. I give up with the knowledge
that
this was all my doing. I have no one to blame but myself, not
even him.
Above me, Jim shifts his weight on his knees and presses
on. I turn my head to the vidscreen, but it's only
cartoons. I've forgotten to change the channel again.
It's funny, I remember everything externally about him that day I first
propositioned him. All the details of what was said, what we
did,
how he looked. Actually, I remember everything about him that
day
with brilliant clarity. But as for me, I no longer have any
recollection of what I thought or felt, or why I did what I did.
But I will always remember, it was my idea all along.
He would never hit on his crew. Not Jim. He was
much too
perfect for that. But if a senior officer hit on him, someone
older, a confidant, a mentor almost, that would be all different,
wouldn't it?
His body was like a marble statue, hard, chiseled, so consummately male
it seemed unreal. I'd touched him so many times in the line
of
duty, but never like this. In my sickbay he had no choice
where I
touched him. It was my job and there was no thrill.
But in
the sanctuary of my cabin he could stop me at will, it would be
something naughty--illicit--and that turned me on.
So I was the one who said it. "Jim, let's go back to your
cabin."
He plucked my hand from his thigh and gave me a thoughtful look. "Okay,
if you're sure, Bones. But let's use yours." He
smiled
without joy. I should have seen it then.
It was all
about victory and power, never about delight. "I want you to
be
sure you're comfortable with this."
There were no words between us after that. He sat splayed in
my
chair. I continued moving my hand, under his shirt,
down
his pants. Working past the waistband, my fingers found his
heat.
He sucked in his breath and spread his knees even farther apart for me.
I shied away from his dick. I wanted this to last.
I
kneaded his thigh with my fingers, and felt the hot flow of blood to
his groin. He tried to rock against my wrist, but I twisted
it
away. His sweat permeated my nose and his breathing grew
harsh.
His movements grew rougher. I felt a sweet
slickness run
down my palm, but took no pity on him.
Just as now he takes no pity on me.
I pulled my hand back. He croaked something wordless into the
air. I straddled his knees, held his shoulders and pressed my
own
balls and dick into his thigh. He jiggled against me,
grinning
purposefully, using his body to get mine off, but I would not have this
be his game. He took control too often; here I thought this
would
be mine.
I should have known it wouldn't last.
But I moved up against him, pressing my dick into his side.
It
felt good, but not nearly as good as watching the great Captain Kirk
decompose under my touch. He ripped off his shirt. His chest
glowed bright with sweat. I leaned forward and lapped up
every
drop I could find.
As a physician I knew it was impossible for one man to lick another
clean, but for that beautiful few minutes I was willing to give it my
best shot.
When I got to his nipples, Jim was already wild. Sweat
dripped
from his forehead. He bucked against my body, ground his
nipples
into my teeth and arched back like a demon. So I stopped. I
just
stopped and watched him struggle with his needs.
I think my balls hurt. They must have by then. I
was hot as
a protoplaser and ready to come, but not if it meant letting Jim come
along too. So I sat my ass, my full weight over Jim's crotch.
I
wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around the chair.
I
pressed my dick into his stomach and kissed him hard, hard as I could
with my tongue.
It was a battle of wills; we both thrust into the other with all of our
might. I scraped my tongue against his teeth until I tasted
blood. Even then I didn't stop. I pressed deeper,
harder,
farther, faster into his mouth. One didn't have to be Freud
to
figure out what we were doing. I couldn't care
less.
Captain Kirk was now under my command!
I didn't stop until I felt the swell of my gland threatening to
ejaculate right into my pants. I pulled back, panting
fiercely.
We both glared at one another. I wanted to come all over
him. I stood up and opened my pants. He unzipped
his in the
chair, and dared me to move next.
Erect, Jim had the most splendid cock I had ever seen. It was
pink and thick, plump and shiny like a snow cone at a county
fair. It jumped almost in time to the pulse of my breath,
like it
was just made for me. I couldn't help myself; despite my best
laid plans, I went to my knees.
It was the perfect size too. It flirted with my gag
reflex.
Not enough to choke me, just enough to make me feel like a
man.
When he shot down my throat I came with such violent force that I had
to make myself remember to lick up every drop.
I came all over my own clothes. Funny. This had
started
with me wanting to come over him. He won the first round and
he'd
never looked back.
He is deep in my bowels now. I can feel each little movement,
like he is a part of me. But I don't want him
there. I want
him gone. I want it over. But he holds on tight and
rocks
me right along with him.
No one controls Captain Kirk. I above all should know better
than
that, remembering the first time he took me that way. I know
I
wanted it, wanted it badly. Back then I wanted everything I
could
have of him. Back then I was foolish enough to believe it
would
mean something later. Thought I was lucky, honored, if he
would
choose to bestow it on me. I remember all that, but I can't
remember if I liked it when it happened.
It was in my quarters again. Always my quarters--never
his.
He could leave anytime. Or maybe he told himself pretty lies
about hometurf advantage. Right. No one would ever
have the
advantage over him. Look up Alpha Male in your Webster's and
there you'll see a picture of Jim Kirk.
I'd gotten so hot thinking about him all day. I was ready for
anything when he walked in the door. In a minute we were
naked. In ten, I was on my back. He bent my knees
to my
chest and leaned over me brimming with power and strength. He
rubbed cold lube on my ass. I gasped at the shock.
Then he
pressed his dick against me and began to lean in.
He held my knees down with the bulk of his arms and his tip threatened
hot at my most sensitive spot. I guess I must have looked
scared. I should have. My heart beat hard in my
chest. I felt the cold sweat pouring over my brow.
"Do you want me to stop?" Jim whispered into my ear.
Someone I didn't recognize said "no", then Jim was inside of
me.
I felt like my insides were being ripped all apart. I wanted
to
puke, but I couldn't so I just held tightly to his neck. "I
love
you too, Bones," he said and thrust into me until he came.
It's almost over now. I can feel he's ready to come. I know
his
responses better than I know my own. I meet his needs better
than
I meet my own. I squeeze around him and he orgasms
into my
ass.
The TV is still playing children's cartoons. That poor coyote
just can't seem to win.
His communicator has been beeping. The Chief of Starfleet
operations is needed for something again. He hears it, now
that
it's over. Or maybe it is over now that he's heard the
beep. He wipes his hands on my sheets and his dick on my
thigh
and he stands up and walks to my comm console.
He's tousled and his lips are bitten and puffy, but he doesn't care who
knows what he's been doing anymore than he cares who he does it with.
There is a respiratory plague spreading rapidly on Ehlllapyis III with
no known remedy. I'm already forgotten.
No, worse than forgotten. He takes me for granted.
He's
already volunteered my services to head the medical team. He
thinks he can do anything he likes with me.
I get dressed. Apparently, he's right.
You know, there are other things besides Starfleet. Spock
found
that out and he went to Gol. I could just resign my
commission
and leave tomorrow for parts unknown.
I toss on my jacket and follow Jim out the door.