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UNKNOWN | @skiiine

     “ and home to ME, boy. as my home would be welcome to YOU. “ he is not unkind, speaks as rocks do as they slough downhill over themselves in the gentle procession on unkempt tectonic currents — a thing to velveteen, homely. natural. the kettle is on. they together, wait. “ but this is but a room, your planet, to a much larger house. i do not see the joy in, uh, how you say —,” a brief regression to the mother tongue as he inwardly gropes about, “ living as a RECLUSE, might. truly i mean no real offense. the universe is simply EVERYONE’S. so why do most of your people fear it?

                                                     why not become STRONG? “ 

“ of course. ” no hesitation there --- the worlds aren’t so harsh close to earth. the federation understands, as best it can, and it caters, as best it can. his smile is polite --- a little thin, where his mind still works to figure the other out. it’s not suspicion, rather, a cadence in voice that differs a little to what he’s used to. soothing, in a sense, yet it reminds him of the crash of waves and the force that can so easily come with. he listens with intent, even leans that little bit forward. he laughs then, leaning back. “ some people prefer things a little cozier. ” a shrug. “ some people don’t like what might happen out here. ” he understands, but he too doesn’t quite follow. but that is, him, after all. the boy born in the expanse of space. a pause though, with the last words spoken, and jim raises a brow. “ what do you mean, strong? ”  

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SPOCK | @askfirstofficerspock

It was not a familiar sound to Spock. He’d been to many space stations in his years in Starfleet and before that traveling with his parents, and he’d never heard a sound like the one echoing through the narrow corridors. Loud. Piercing. Like the screams of aa dozen people crying out in pain at once combined with the shrill gale of a tea kettle.

Spock pushed his tricorder back until it slung over his back and drew his own phaser. “Captain, taking into consideration the amount of damage we have seen just in this area, I do not believe stun will be sufficient.” But he would follow orders until it became clear that by doing so Jim would die—at which point he might decide to ignore them.

Fear was not an emotion Spock allowed himself, but something about this place was making him nervous. He should have been sensing the lives of the stations’ inhabitants as well as the crews from visiting ships, but he felt nothing and it was most disturbing. Creeping down the corridor, he spotted a partially open access shaft. “We could fit in there, wait until whatever is coming has passed? Find out what it is we are facing.”

@itskirkjimkirk

"Well, we’ll see what happens.” He doesn’t know what it is that’s here, what made this all so. It destroys with a sort of desperation and ferocity he’s unfamiliar with. There’s signs of self defense, but everything else? Borderline animalistic. He feels the adrenaline rush through him, coursing through with added pressure at the cry. 

Phaser raised, stance ready to adapt to a sudden hostile situation, he walks carefully with Spock through the corridor. A pause, and a look around. He can’t hear it getting any closer, but he’s not about to take that chance. A nod, and Jim lowers his weapon slightly. “C’mon, let’s go. Eyes open.” He moves carefully, pace speeding to reduce the time taken. 

He pressed his body against the wall by the shaft. A peek in, and it looked alright. “Keep me covered,” he asked the other as he holstered his phaser to open up the access shaft. Silence still. So far, so good. It whines as it opens, causing Jim to wince. Shit. 

A rattle then, and that same noise. It heard them. 

“Go go go!” 

Who Goes There

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SPOCK | @askfirstofficerspock

Spock kept his smile hidden when Jim joked about making it a fair fight although considering the Captain’s prowess it was not an inaccurate statement. He’d done well against superior odds yet again as he normally did.

Long fingers, with a delicate touch, made quick work of cleaning scrapes and cuts. Without anything to bandage either of their injuries there wasn’t much more they could do—not without Dr. McCoy—which was another problem all together. “We will need to find shelter as well as weapons before we attempt to rescue Dr. McCoy. It as inconvenient that he was not locked up in our vicinity in the village.”

@itskirkjimkirk

“Can’t have it our way all the time, Spock,” Jim answered, a little grim --- his attention outside their momentary shelter. Worry eats a little at him, barely seen as it rises to surface at the thought of a friend in need of their help. A breath in, before he deeply exhaled and turned to look back towards Spock. “Yeah. We can do that.” A cough then, a clearing of his throat. 

“What do you know, good as new,” he beamed a little towards the other with bravado that was almost constant. His eyes followed the lines of injuries inflicted upon the Vulcan, head moving in small tilts and inclines with a stretch to see. “Don’t look half bad, Spock. Think we can get moving?” 

Why do humans do this?

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MR SPOCK | @askfirstofficerspock

There were no nights spent in the other’s quarters. Only sufficient time in each other’s bed to satisfy their needs and wants. His flesh was covered in scratches and bites, and regardless of his Vulcan constitution, he ached. And Spock wouldn’t change a thing. He hoped that Kirk was as uncomfortable as he was.

He walked through the Enterprise as if he was in command, because as far as the First Officer was concerned—he did. Kirk filled the center seat. He gave the orders. He obeyed the Empire, and he wore a target like no other, leaving Spock in a safe position that allowed him to influence everything. It was a perfect arrangement, and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t somewhat fond of the human.

“Captain,” he said as he strode onto the bridge, pointedly ignoring each and every other person there other than Kirk as he went to his station. They were beneath him. He thanked his Vulcan training that he didn’t have a visible smirk to go with Kirk wearing a long-sleeved uniform to the bridge. What a shame. He’d bitten where he shouldn’t have.

@itskirkjimkirk

It’s pride that stopped him from the change in fluid motion; where he feels the ache in muscle and the sting of bites against skin. He wouldn’t show the other that their rough and tumble affected him --- at least, not as much as he thought the Vulcan would want. A tease of sorts, that came with the look towards the Vulcan, and a wicked smile to follow. I’ll see you at the bridge, it said. 

“Mr Spock,” he nodded, eyes flicking towards where the other should be. “You’re a little late, get held up?” he asked, feigning concern --- eyes sharp, with that playful edge that told of danger. He felt the way the other’s gaze lingered on his uniform. He’d give the Vulcan that point, at least. Spock had tested the bounds of their agreement --- their moment’s fun and desire to let off steam, and Jim was more than willing to allow the other to edge at parameters. All the more fun, after all. 

But fun comes in those small waves; ones that crash and ebb away. His eyes flick to other’s that turn their head and watch. Ah, an audience, of course. He knew them to be clever, knew the question that often lay in their mind at he and Spock’s working tandem. They wouldn’t utter it, not for fear of action. Another method to sift through information, search and follow flow of thought and conversation. Everything on board had a reason, after all. “Report. Found anything about our new friends?” 

Partners in Hell - Mirror Verse

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SPOCK | @starfleetsvulcan

             Spock’s attention lifts for a brief moment, scanning the surrounding area, keen eyes squinting through the trees. He does not expect to see anything, but it does not hurt to exercise caution. He lingers, focusing his hearing as well. Nothing… yet. His gaze turns once again to his tricorder. 

❛ ——– I would not trust an alternative route. Indeed the path exposes us, but it is safer than risking the marshes. In many areas the bog is too deep to walk through. ❜ 

             He steps closer to his Captain, joining him along the path before slinging his tricorder back over his shoulder. He fills his hands with a phaser instead, set to stun. His adrenaline is still settled, a steady pulse in his side. He feels out of place in the terrain; too bright next to Jim, garish yellow and blue against murky brown and green. 

“ Shortcuts are bad. Got it,” he says, turning his gaze over to the other man with slightly lifted brow as he smiled a little sheepishly. No harm in trying to find a quicker way to their end goal, after all. Worry bleeds in action; those small fidgets an that moment where he stands and turns to find them with no other option than sticking to the original plan. Strange, really, given how often they have to adapt. But, Jim isn’t one to hold his breath that this’ll all pull through with ease. 

He takes the lead, following the path planned, eyes ahead, only shifting in focus at any sound to catch attention. Steps are careful too --- marshland like this, there’s no telling what may be hiding, and what may be used to catch them unaware. 

A pause then, where a particular stench --- absolutely putrid --- wafts in the air, and Jim scrunches his nose at it, turning into his shoulder as he attempted to stop the cough and splutter that threatened to rise from throat. Another look towards the Vulcan. “Please tell me I’m not the only one smelling that.” 

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CAPTAIN SWANSON | @ofburdenedsoul

        ❛ Spock? Ambassador Spock? He’s here? ❜  He could not refer to his  o w n  Spock, who served as first officer and belonged to this reality, surely. And that left but one option, incredulous though it may be. Nine. She had been nine years old when Romulus was destroyed ( she could not help but  r e m e m b e r,  so vast were the repercussions of the day ), when the Federation had lost one of their greatest ambassadors. Lost, they believed in the black hole he had engineered. 

        But in her shock, professional stoicism crumpled, and only after her words were uttered did Aurora muster the presence of mind to regain mastery of her demeanor. But more important than his presence was his failure to  r e t u r n… Was it by choice? Or impossibility? The latter boded ill for her crew, and she drew an uneven breath. A moment to compose her thoughts, and she ventured a belated answer to his own query. 

        ❛ Yes, we need to go back. ❜  How could they  s t a y, when their lives were there, the Starfleet to which they answered there, friends and family there. And a war looming ever on the horizon, and they the Federation’s flagship. Such a strange question, to answer. As if any other option were feasible. 

        Another deep breath, and she mustered the courage to ask the question she feared.  ❛ Did he attempt it? The ambassador. Did he try to go back? ❜

“ He made it through, ” Jim says with a small smile, and a gentle rise of shoulders in a small shrug. No use hiding what she could easily find, after all. There was the great project to rebuild, to seek and to shelter with those that carried the history, and those who needed to learn it. Ambassador Spock was a Vulcan that could not be hidden under classification. Not with what happened.

There then he sees that crack; that slip into something beyond colours and bands adorn. Another quirk of his lips, eyes lock on hers almost playfully, as if to say: I saw that. And so, there is that moment where he relaxes, where arms stretch and fingers curl and flex against his armrest. He gets comfortable. 

“There a way you can go back?” he asks curiously. He’s unsure of what technology has come, how far it’s developed --- this doesn’t seem like an easy feat ( and again he knows he toes the line of professionalism --- asking too much, and testing that certain directive ), nor a travel common. But, worlds change. 

“He had a mission, decided to stay here.” A pause. “Vulcan’s gone. After Nero --- what he did. Not that many of them left. So, Spock did what...well, Spock does.” 

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MR SPOCK | @askfirstofficerspock

Spock had no idea what he was being obvious about. He was simply there to hire a ship from a smuggler in order to land covertly on Vulcan. As far as he could see the only aspect of the situation that required secrecy was what organization they worked for since as far as the rest of the Federation knew, Section 31 did not exist. They were simply Vulcan merchants attempting to go home.

He trailed after Kirk, without getting too close, but doing his best not to lose sight of the disguised human while keeping his own keen eyes open to find Mudd. He felt the ill intent of the woman who brushed against him in what was feigned sexual interest. His quick hand darted out, long gloved fingers curling around her wrist, not allowing her to jerk free.

“I believe you would be better served in the future if you did not try to steal from Vulcans.” He leaned down, his breath brushing against her ear and mingling with her too powerful perfume, which was no doubt meant to stir the libido of the unsuspecting or willing. Spock found it cloying and bitter. “We can read your mind.”

She sputtered and spun away when Spock released her, disappearing into the crowd no doubt with a warning to the others of her ilk to avoid the tall dark haired Vulcan.

Fortunately, Mudd had not bothered with having his male pattern baldness hidden, and the stage lights were bouncing off the bare dome. Spock left Kirk to go to the bar and headed toward the smuggler’s table. “Mr. Mudd, I am interested in procuring a small vessel.”

@itskirkjimkirk

“ Ah, geez, ” is muttered under breath, barely enough for anyone to hear. His gaze did wander with the use of reflection, admire the Vulcan in a sense as he moved across the floor with that unshakable discipline that he always had. You can take the Vulcan out of the Academy, but you can’t take the Academy out of the Vulcan, he’d say. But he knew that it had all come from long before that --- home planets, training, and the other’s way of living; it caused a flare, that irritation and that need to disrupt. But he maintained in check, kept control. As much as he could. 

Eyes wandered with the brush of women and alien, gaze met with small smirks and a charm he could easily toy with. This was after all, a game --- and them? Pieces in play. No harm, no foul --- just one step ahead of the other. He stopped for a moment, noticing a small commotion with Spock and another woman and almost sighed, and shook her head. 

“Making friends, Spock?” he muttered, eyeing the other before ordering a drink. One more brief look towards the other, he’d follow soon ( best not to spook Mudd with the both of them there. Immediately, and all at once were parameters the smuggler was particular with. For now, he’d make his own investigations, perhaps try to find something to sweeten the deal. He spoke the language of credits and profit, after all, and though the Vulcan may offer a price, he knew many more that would pay higher. 

Mudd looked up at the Vulcan, suspicion evident --- not many Vulcans crossed his path, after all. If there was profit to be had here, he knew himself to be a rich man. But, word often got round: never mess with a Vulcan. They were clever, sharp, and difficult to negotiate with. Still, he smiled after a few moment’s of study, and gestured towards a free space at the end of the booth for the other to sit. “Let’s talk.”

a book, a magician, a machine

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AHSOKA | @snippylittletano

“Our worlds were not always like this,” Ahsoka pointed out softly, “the Republic lived in peace for many years, small skirmishes here and there, disagreements on worlds but you know in the grand scheme of things…peace has graced us for a long time. All of that is changing.” It was, for the worse, the order and the peace that had enveloped this corner of the universe was tearing itself apart and Ahsoka found herself on the front line, a teenager fighting a war of adults.

Pushing her way through the trees and vegetation she glanced at him, happy enough to answer his questions but taking just a moment to think them through. “The Jedi Order is a collection of Force sensitive people, we are the main peacekeeping force for the Republic and currently we are now in charge of the military given the whole…war thing.” She trailed off for a moment, the idea of a peacekeeping force being in charge of the military didn’t sit well with her, but it was all they had right now.

“The Jedi Order has been around for millennia, a home and a family for those who are strong in the Force. I just wish my time with the Order was more peaceful but the universe has decided otherwise.” It was a shame, but truthfully it was the hand she had been dealt and she was going to have to survive it. “The Order has been revered, respected and honoured for countless generations. Before the war most of us would spend our time as mediators on planets where disputes happened. We would be dispatched to help deal with natural disasters…famine, we made a difference though…these days there’s not much time for that.” They were distracted and busy and it broke her heart.

They shouldn’t have to be here fighting a war.

“What about you? What’s it like where you’re from?”

They never really did, he thought to himself, eyes scanning their surroundings for a moment before they settled once more on the young woman. For the most part, it’s a little foreign. Though he read books on the history of mankind; though the knew greed; though he lived through situations where there was a fight against madness; a fight against a wrath he could not measure --- it was never something he could quite understand, on their level, at least. Horror came with chaos’ wake. 

A frown settles with the clash of meanings, and weakness found in the foundations of their structure. But he doesn’t speak of it. A call to arms, after all --- they take those willing; they take those capable. Do what you have to do --- he’s heard it all before. A sigh, and lips thin, a little grim with the smile. “Guess too much is happening.”

Jim clears his throat, continues to follow silently for a moment as he mulls over the question. “Well, obviously, not from around here. The Force isn’t...prominent,” he begins. It’s an interesting concept, and he’s sure somewhere there’s a parallel; a similarity --- same idea, different name. “For the most part, things are good. We’re living in peace, we’re getting out there --- ” a small smile, where it’s clear he misses his crew, and he utters those few words he knows well. “ --- exploring the worlds, seeking out new life and civilisation, boldly going --- kind of part of my calling card. ” 

He can do that, with how things were back where he’s from. There’s danger, that much is obvious --- never will the worlds and galaxies be rid of it, but they like to think they edge a little closer to that goal. 

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JIM | @yetanotherjimkirk

“Hell yes, I’m angry! You’re trying to take my place! What did you do with Spock?” He bellowed as he fired once more at the imposter, sending more hot shrapnel and debris in his phaser’s wake. It was dangerous. Firing a weapon set to kill inside the ship was an act of desperation, and at any moment an errant pulse could hit a critical component and cause a cascade of damage that could cripple the ship.

“Where did you come from!” Reaching behind him, Kirk grabbed his chair and flung it toward the other. It spiraled across the office to crash into the bulkhead where it bounced away, clipping Jim’s shoulder on its way to the deck.

While the other ducked, Kirk brought his weapon to bear once more, but before he could fire, a long fingered hand clamped onto the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Spock applied the correct amount of pressure, and Kirk felt his limbs go suddenly numb. He tried to cry out once more as his phaser fell to the floor, but it was too late as he joined his weapon.

“Captain,” Spock said as he checked on the fallen duplicate. “Are you all right. He is unconscious. A nerve pinch should keep him that way for approximately twenty minutes.”

@itskirkjimkirk​

The other is frantic --- desperate for what they had once considered a stability. This looked to be a madness that could come with a fault in the transporter ( not exactly the best thing to think about, particularly with it’s frequent use ). Jim attempted to calm, to quell the fire that rose and threatened to wipe out not only those in the room, but the ship and his crew themselves. To think once more, he was a danger to those on board. 

There was no use for words here; where he had already seen them fall on deaf ears. His worry stretched; it propagated to extend not only to those here ( his other self, and Spock ) but where shots were clearly blasting through metal. His crew. His ship. 

A duck, and the chair mostly missed --- nothing too awful, but he could still feel the quick sear, the ache and throb of a blunt force against him. Hand against shoulder, he turned --- just in time to see Spock pinch his nerve. 

He was quick then, steps fast to take the phaser, and to look at the two of them to check if they were alright. A roll of his shoulders, the hand that held the phaser brushing up against injury. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. We need to get him to Medical. C’mon, help me with him.” 

Dark Side of the Sun: Jim and Evil Jim

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AHSOKA | @snippylittletano​

“It’s okay, you don’t have to…things happen Jim.”

“ things happen, sure --- doesn’t mean we keep it that way. ”

“let me help.”

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OUTTIE | 00 drafts

[ ayy finished drafts, wandering on the other blogs ( sulu & carol ) if people want things though i’ll happily write more on this bab. he needs more traction, admittedly. ]

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CAPTAIN KIRK ( PRIME ) | @jimsmightyrump

“It’s never been any different,” he says with a smirk. “We’re people who move on instinct. That’s not necessarily bad. It’s just a matter of learning when we should listen to our instincts and when we shouldn’t.” It was one of those things that Jim himself was still learning. Maybe he would never totally figure it out. But that’s what his friends were for. To reign him in when he went too far.

His face falls as the conversation continues. Not so much his smile is totally gone, but enough that regret is briefly visible on his face. “I didn’t,” he says, trying – and failing – to keep his tone light. “I let him go. I took a job I hated and I tried to put it behind me. He had to come back for me. By then I wasn’t talking to my friends much, and I’d gotten so depressed I was almost manic at the first chance of getting my old life back that I got. It worked out – somehow – but I regret letting it get that far.”

A frown spreads across his face. The kind a mother gives a son before giving him life advice he didn’t ask for. “There’s something I wish I had been told when I was going through that. Something I’m going to tell you now: Don’t give up. Don’t stop fighting, no matter what you do. Don’t stop burning until you’ve set fire to everything. Don’t let anyone take your life from you. And never, never let them clip your wings, even if flying is painful.”

“Landed us both in some trouble, I’m guessing, ” he says with an almost laugh, fingers reaching to rest at the side of his head briefly. Fingers tap, eyes flicking down in thought. It’s difficult, and he’s glad there’s the other to understand that --- instinct and gut feelings, more often than not it’s something outside the bounds of what’s considered normal, it flares hostility in what seems like madness and there’s a risk that, though they’re willing to follow through with ( faith in a captain; and a promise to follow him everywhere ), there is still that doubt. he’s been in more trouble than he should have been. “ --- But that’s what Spock’s here for. ”

It’s hard to stop the wince that comes, that drop in his stomach at the thought of turning away from opportunity. For him, he gets it --- for one reason above most: a fear; one that comes with the brilliance of the other, and the consistency in the butting of heads, the disagreements, the stubbornness. He likes to think he wouldn’t give up the chase, but that voice in his head tells asks him how so? After all, even then --- his now --- he still hadn’t taken that step forward.  

A swallow, where Jim seizes his attention --- a power he too has, and now he understands. He’s still, he listens, as if every word, every enunciation is important. The narrowing of his eyes is from concentration, the swallow and nod is him understanding. It’s a weight, one he’s willing to carry, but also a release; where words offer that promise of something to come. Something worth it. 

“You got it.” 

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BONES | @dogwoodbones

@itskirkjimkirk | 🍑

                  the sad part about all of this, is that bones has felt w o r s e. though at least the last time, he had been at home && stayed there. unlike his friend, bones generally stayed home. god why did he even let jim drag him out. oh fuck, who was he kidding, he was probably gonna drink anyways that night. may as well have done it with jim.

                  he groaned, rolling over && promptly bumping into the blond. a loud sigh as a a shiver wracked his body. he refused to open his eyes. if he opened his eyes, that meant that this hangover was real && he would regret this even more. he was content to just let this headache throb for a few minutes, stay against the currently comfy ( though squirmy ) pillow that was jim, until he could find the will to get up && get a hypospray. but then jim started to panic.

                  ❝ huh ?? ❞ he sighed before finally opening his eyes. god the light hurt so much. ❝ jim- wait, what- ?? f u c k, where the hell are we… fuck. jim. ❞

“i’ve got no idea --- ”

he’s scrambled, distance made between them as he blinks furiously to acclimatise to the light. even then, with those moments longer and where there’s now that clarity of who and that remembering of what and why, the question of where still goes unanswered. a turn then, to look at the man beside him who struggles. he hears a scrape, a whine of wood that struggles against wait, and his eyes focus on the door in front. “ ---- but it looks like we’re about to find out. ”

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UNKNOWN | @skiiine

hey @itskirkjimkirk​!

   “ SPACE MAN. “ a hard snort. “ what is this earth, hm. what is the nothing and the all that surrounds it. we are all space kind. all of us belong to it. “

“ home --- for most people. base for everyone on board my ship, ” a simple answer for a loaded question. philosophy filled in some cases, hard logic and science in others. “ you never been? never seen anyone from around there? ” 

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SPOCK | @askfirstofficerspock

“It is not Christmas for another seven hours and forty-three minutes,” Spock pointed out, as he leaned against Jim, enjoying the nearness of his warmth both his body and his soul. He wasn’t a true empath, but he could feel emotions when they were strong—and Jim’s feelings were—as were Spock’s.

“But I if there are enough smaller boxes in my gift, we might be able to fill up those hours as I open them.” With a sly smile on his face, Spock twisted in the seat and brushed his fingers along Jim’s jawline, before kissing the corner of his mouth. “Of course there are other ways to fill the time.”

It was aggressive, but there were times when Spock thought they were far too careful with each other. They were both fragile in their own ways—not that either of them would ever admit it. Spock had been hurt as a child as had Jim. They’d both lost their mentor when Pike was murdered. They’d lost so very much, but found a home and family in Starfleet and more in each other.

@itskirkjimkirk

“Christmas can come a little early,” he said. “It’s probably Christmas somewhere. Actually. ” Jim added, leaning a little more against Spock. He was content, the happiness of it all obvious with the way his body relaxed with the company --- and the grin, bright and genuine, emphasised by the look he’d give Spock.

There was that tingle that follows the line drawn by Spock’s fingers, more warmth that pooled and spread within him. The grin was mirrored, brows rising with surprise at the touch --- and the kiss. And it was clear, where affection’s given, came the desire for more.  

“Other ways? I could do with other ways.” Suggestion was different from the norm, initially slow and tentative where he was unsure of what to do, what to feel, or what to say ( especially what to say ). But they’d managed to find a balance; equilibrium which he’d often wish to test and rock. Much like now, it was welcome, with hands that had already moved to stretch and to begin to turn and pull the other close.  

A Family Tradition: Jim/Spock

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SPOCK | @askfirstofficerspock

“Captain, if one were to occupy oneself with keeping track of every scrap of gossip about this ship, one would have little time for their duties.” Spock graced him with a heated look and a smirk. “Or anything else.”

Testing each other’s patience was a game they played often. They both found it entertaining to see which would crack first. Spock would never admit it, but he enjoyed the game—even on the occasions where he let his guard down first.

“If you would like me to look into the situation, you will need to release me, of course.” He turned his head, and took a nip at Kirk’s chin. His sharp teeth could do a great deal of damage, but he would never mark Kirk anyplace that could be seen. Spock assumed it was why the captain was so fond of his sleeveless uniform. It prevented Spock from biting along his shoulders

@itskirkjimkirk

“Haven’t you heard of all work and no play, Spock?” Brows rose quick; suggestion made with a smirk, with attention focused on the definite thought of something else. His chuckle is nothing but a low rumble, amusement pooling from his chest rising and slipping through an almost predatory grin. God, Spock was so much fun.

There was a brief snarl, a quick flash; the baring of teeth where he feels the prick of pressure against skin. Not unwelcome, in fact --- embraced. There were few who he’d allow this; territory runs rampant, and ownership ( mine, mine, mine ) paramount in action and reaction. In fact, for now, his attention had only been focused on the one: his first officer.

Fingers lingered where he once again touched the binds that held Spock there. They drummed; hard touch against skin, possibly slightly raw from the brief play of struggle. He mulled over thoughts, on the what if when restraints were loosened. Danger, was the obvious answer. Trouble shortly following.

But trust is an interesting word, something strangely placed with the other. Perhaps, simply, he knows where there are the bounds of their toying --- what they are, and the necessity of each other, both on board, and on grander scales. He hummed, before taking that dagger holstered in his belt. Sharp metal against skin, it glides then to cut at the rope.

Partners in Hell - Mirror Verse