Manipulations

Disclaimer: I do not own the realm of Star Trek and make no money from this writing. It is strictly for amusement.

Warning: Possible non-con (no consent), bi, slash, voyeur, fisting, oral.

Cthia is a word I encountered in A. C. Crispin’s book “Spock’s World” which is described as “reality-truth” and is different from either reality or truth by itself, seemingly, it means a fact that is indisputable regardless of one’s perspective. As I cannot find my copy of this book, I must apologize if I have misspelled the word. The concept of the word was too cool, and it worked perfectly for a situation in which Spock finds himself. I claim no copy right on this word and hope that no one is offended by its use.

I have taken the liberty of creating a series of words in this chapter. However, I apologize if their meanings are covered by other words, found in print within the Star Trek Universe. I know there is a book of the Klingon language in print, but I have not found one for the Vulcan language. In a few of the books, McCoy complains that the Vulcan language relies heavily on fricatives; this forms the base for the words I created.

Ta’ka = seeking sexual partners of the same sex, may be gay or bisexual, and is not acted on or evident during pon far, as that is a primal mating drive to ensure the continuation of the species. Ta’ka is a decision based on derivation of pleasure

Ta’ga = seeking sexual partners of the opposite sex, may be bisexual though.

_’la = indicates that one is both dominate, as in Master, in all aspects of the relationship as well as a “top” during sex. (ta’ka’la or ta’ga’la)

_’le = indicates that one is both submissive, and a “bottom”. (ta’ka’le or ta’ga’le)

_’lo = indicates that one will alternate between the roles of _’la and _’le, or may combine the two in a role more comfortable to them, such as a Dom. in all aspects of the relationship except sex, during which they prefer to bottom. (ta’ka’lo or ta’ga’lo)

Chapter 3

As Jim lay in deep slumber, Leonard found himself thinking back to the view from the window in the next room. That Jim and Spock loved each other he believed without question, regardless of what that pointy-eared, green-blooded, biological computer had to say about the emotion of love. That the two were too proud to admit that the feeling could extend beyond the platonic relationship they currently shared he knew without a doubt. So how was he to get them to admit it to each other while believing it to be their own idea?

While the doctor was not self-absorbed, he was self-aware. Under different circumstances, he could have enthusiastically welcomed Jim’s presence in his bed, erasing each pain brought about by a lover’s reflection. Essentially, however, this lover was Spock, and that altered the dynamics immensely. Some injuries never healed. With a frustrated sight, Leonard decided to train his focus on Spock. If a logical approach could be found, things would sure be simplified. In reality, Spock’s sense of ethics and Star Fleet’s protocol effectively eliminated that possibility. Spock’s course of action would be stayed by these two factors alone, at least until he retired from the Fleet, and that was not going to happen anytime soon.

‘Logic be damned!’ Leonard thought to himself. ‘Spock is the wild card in this emotional triangle. Would he turn away from the lover he could have in order to keep his Commanding Officer and risk losing the friendship they shared? Would he accept the lover, thereby strengthening the friendship, and risk losing his C.O. if the Fleet found out that a superior officer was sexually involved with a subordinate? Moreover, just who, exactly, is the pup that now shares Spock’s bed? ... Not much older than a kid, really. No, that isn’t fair. He looks to be about the age Spock was when we first met. Damn! I’m getting old!’

Leonard knew that if Jim was an example of an injury that would never heal, then Spock was an example of one that had healed wrong. He had always accused Spock of being a sadist at heart, but over the last few years, that little sarcastic joke had stopped; well, it had stopped being a joke. Of course, he noticed the shift in current with regards to the relationship between Spock and Christine, but as far as he was concerned, that had been ill fated from the start. Still though, one had to wonder how he would have recovered from the…incident, if they had-

“Let it go, Bones,” purred the soft, smooth voice next to his ear.

“What are you talking about, Jim?”

“Yeah, right. You’ve had the defeated look on your face ever since we watched that little scene earlier. Just let it go.”

“Do you know who that was? I know you weren’t aware Spock had a relationship going, but I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen him before.”

“Yeah, he’s some lesser ranked ambassador, another one hoping to stick around long enough to replace Sarek.”

At a very Spock- like raised eyebrow, the captain shrugged and added, “I’ve seen him around…at briefings and such…stuffed shirt type of things. He’s sharp enough, on the ball, although there’s something that I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe overly ambitious; some traits are becoming more obvious among Vulcans. I guess after all these years, either they’ve decided we’ve surpassed our “company” status and they’ve started treating us as family, or we’ve rubbed off on them.” The chuckle that accompanied this was rather dry and void of any humor. After several seconds of reflection, Jim continued on, “Spock still feels the need to, well…at least somewhat garner his father’s approval -”

“OH, COME OFF IT, JIM! Don’t you think he’s out-grown that by now?”

“No, I don’t… Since…Well, it just seems to have… I dunno… It’s gotten worse or something over the past t-several years.”

“So you’re just going to give up and walk away?” Bones huffed, as he tossed onto his side to face the source of his exasperation.

“Bones, to give up implies that something existed in the first place-”

“Don’t hand me that Vulcan sounding load of horse manure! Just talk to him, okay? Be honest with him. You owe him that much… As a friend and your First Officer, logic dictates-”

“Okay, okay. You win this round,” Jim said, dragging the other man across the small distance between them.

Leonard prayed it was a combination of a doctor’s basic empathic nature, decades of professional experience, and years of friendship that allowed him to sense the waves of turmoil and anguish that rolled off the man nuzzling his neck. Otherwise, he knew of one naive Iowa farm boy turned seasoned Fleet veteran who was going to have a very rough row to hoe.

######

Spock sat on the side of his bed, the room now lighted only by earth’s pale moonlight and the ambient lighting of the courtyard. After his brief interlude with Dometric, he had tried to meditate but, instead of tranquility, Spock was buffeted by anguish. When several attempts at refocusing his concentration failed, he opted to find something more satisfying to occupy his mind. As he rose, he looked toward his window. Now, several hours later, meditation was still evasive since tranquility was still elusive.

Spock was aware of the curious gaze the dark eyes cast at his now naked back, curious and palpable. He heard the younger man’s breathing change as he drifted up from a satiated sleep. By then however, Spock had already disrobed and positioned himself facing away from his…whatever Dometric was becoming. He knew that his state of distress had been detected; most probably, in fact, it was the cause of Dometric’s awakening. Rather than giving voice to his observations, he had respected Spock’s need for privacy, although, that did not mean that he had lain in silent ignorance. It had been most fascinating to read the emotions evident in the normally stoic man’s body language. From the way the well-defined muscles flexed throughout his back, to the tension that barely altered the resting position of his large but elegant hands, a myriad of emotions were reflected, visible to only the most intimate observer. He knew, with slight disappointment that their relationship was not the catalyst for Spock’s distress. Spock had already resolved any internal dilemma that he may have experienced from their previous encounter.

In spite of his distress, Spock was struggling to control his highly aroused libido; Dometric could smell the ebb and flow of Spock’s arousal. He watched as Spock’s lower back and upper buttocks had tightened with the erection, then relaxed minutes later as the faintly spicy scent of Vulcan arousal faded.

++++++

EARLIER

With mild annoyance Spock rose from his knees, abandoning all pretense of meditation, and uncertain as to his motivation, he looked out his window where he observed a scene which would haunt both his dreams and his nightmares for the rest of his life. Even though they were in back-lit profile, he could still identify the broad shouldered and slightly stocky build of Jim, and the wiry build of Leonard… on his knees… with Jim buried groin deep in his mouth. Jim was leaning back against his desk, arms braced for support, and Leonard’s head was bobbing in languid, long strokes.

Though Spock had moved to the window with intentions of closing the drapes, he continued to watch as the doctor was carefully positioned over the desk and apparently lovingly prepared for penetration. He watched as Jim sensuously ground and stroked his groin against Leonard’s ass, until the pace became frantic, and then stopped with one final sharp thrust. He was still watching when Leonard placed his hands on his own ass cheeks. Spock realized the he was opening himself for Jim’s use again as Jim was changing his position. It was the position that snapped Spock’s mind out of stunned observation. Jim was on his knees, and thought he could not see details, Spock was certain that it was considerably more than a couple of the Captains fingers working their way into Leonard’s freshly used opening. It was over an hour later when Jim gently picked his friend up and carried him away from the desk; Leonard had tried to stand from having been bent over the desk when his knees buckled.

As Spock sat on the side of his bed trying to come to terms with what he had seen, he felt something break deep within him.

######

When Bones remained rigid in his arms, Jim increased his efforts. He needed Bones tonight…to help him forget, to make the pain stop. As he left love bites across the slender shoulders, he massaged the taut muscles of the man’s back until he felt the last traces of tension melt away. With slow soothing circles, he worked his way down to his lover’s cleft. Jim was alert for any signals of negation, but instead, was rewarded with a shiver, a deep throaty growl, and a hump that ended with Bones’ ass pressed back against his palms. Probing gingerly with his fingers, Jim found the normally tightly puckered opening still extremely loose, but not enough so to be concerned. From the feel of things, it was not the gaping hole that had remained when Jim opened his fist and withdrew his hand from the wildly contracting channel earlier in the night. He allowed a brief twinge of guilt at that memory. It was always painful for Bones when Jim withdrew his hand during the other’s orgasm, but damn how he loved to watch the show as the tissues spasmed! Bones preferred to ride out his orgasm quaking, quivering, and squirming on Jim’s fist. No, it was not the looseness that alarmed Jim; rather it was the slick, sticky oozing.

“Would you relax?” Bones admonished with a throaty chuckle. “If it had been a serious injury we would have known immediately, and left unattended after this long…I’d be dead. If it were a minor one, I wouldn’t still be bleeding.”

“Am I that transparent?” Jim asked in concern.

“No, it’s just that whenever we do something…extreme, you always put yourself through this. Now were you just curious, or did you have something in mind?”

Bones chuckled again as he watched Jim carefully examine his semen and lube- coated fingers for any trace of blood.

“Uh, not really. Do you want to…Well; I know you’re still tender-”

“Jim, shut up. You’re a man of action, not words. If you want me to take you this time around say so, don’t fish for excuses. But, if you want to take me again, and I don’t mind that, I get to pick the place and position, with no arguments from you.”

“Can I have that bit of useful intel before I make my decision?”

“Nope, take it or leave it.”

“Can I take a rain check for later and settle for some mutual playing for now?”

“That can be arranged,” Bones whispered. As he leaned in to capture Jim’s lower lip, one of his own testicles was captured in a firm squeeze. Pressure was gradually increased until Bones was shifting in mild discomfort. Then the fun really began.

######

“Spock.”

While he did not speak or turn toward Dometric, the fact that he raised his head seemed to be all the attention required at the moment.

“Spock, I ask you to contemplate the cthia of the situation you are in. The facts will always stand without flattery. I know that I am not your first choice of partners, nor am I your only choice; however, I also know that I am the most logical choice for you at the present time. That is cthia, not just the truth, but the reality-truth which does not vary according to one’s point of perspective.”

He knew that Spock was growing hard again, from whatever was distracting him; he also knew what was needed even if his intended mate could not ask for it. Spock felt the change in air current as Dometric began to rise from the bed; he heard the man’s breath catch in pain as he stood. Soon Dometric was kneeling before him, caressing Spock’s first and second fingers with two of his own; the traditional Vulcan touch equivalent to human hand holding. A simple, basic gesture holding no specific meaning when taken out of context of the relationship between the two involved in the act. When viewed within the frame-work of the relationship however, the gesture was capable of communicating an infinite number of things. This one spoke of submission, so much so that Spock was not surprised when, in spite of his lingering discomfort, Dometric turned and lowered his chest to the floor, an offering.

“My intended mate, I offer myself to thee for relief of thy discomfort,” Dometric said in the high Vulcan dialect. “As I strive to serve thee, I would beseech thee to find thy pleasure from thy servant.” Slipping into standard Vulcan he continued, “Use my body Spock, in whatever manner you find necessary or desirable. I would be yours if you would but have me.”

Spock ghosted a warm hand over the curve of the presented ass…and felt the muscles tighten under his touch.

“Dometric, face me.” Spock found the length of time the young man took in complying most curious, bordering on suspicious. Once his partner had turned to face him, Spock replied in high Vulcan, “I will accept thy service and take both my relief and my pleasure from thy service.”

Since Dometric was still on his knees sitting back on his heels, Spock simply eased off the bed, until he was astride the man’s thighs. He guided one of Dometric’s slender hands to his ass so his fingers rested at Spock’s cleft. Spock then reached down with both hands and began caressing the flaccid organ resting against his own erection. Dometric looked down as his cock came to life with an appreciative twitch and Spock felt a tightening in his chest. The emotion that flashed through his eyes at Spock’s touch was easy enough to identify… Shame.

“Tonight, my own, you will be ta’ka’la,” Spock whispered.

Dometric nodded and watched in mute silence as Spock stood, turned, and bent over the bed with his hands on the mattress. Dometric’s touch was tentative as he slid his hands up the back of Spock’s legs. He shivered as fingertips tickled across the bends of his knees; by mid-thigh he began the relaxation techniques he used for meditation, and when a touch glided softly down the length of his cleft, Spock let loose with a most undignified squeak; a squeak which was repeated when a raspy tongue laved the top of his cleft and began working its way down.

When Spock felt Dometric’s tongue gently work its way into his opening, he realized that he had stopped breathing, and with the first gulp of air, he felt his passageway relax. Dometric continued to wiggle and probe with his tongue, occasionally withdrawing to tease the sensitive fleshy outer ring. Finally, he felt Dometric pull away and, telling himself that one Vulcan would not be the same as before, he managed to keep his body relaxed…until the wait became too long. Looking over his shoulder he saw that Dometric was looking at the floor; his sense of deep shame was evident in his body language and flush on his face. It took several seconds after Spock had turned and sat facing him, before Dometric spoke.

“I cannot, Spock. I cannot be ta’ka’la.”

This he could understand after all, not everyone would be able to. It was not as simple as penetrating or being penetrated, nor was it a matter of dominance and submission. It was all of that and so much more. Spock had not been certain he would be able to be ta’ka’le for anyone, especially the inexperienced, younger man. However, when Spock attempted to convey this, a raised hand silenced him.

“I cannot be ta’ka’la because I am not ta’ka. I can accept the role of ta’ka’le as it does not require…arousal, for participation.” Dometric paused to look at Spock, and had the un-Vulcan reaction of blushing under the intense gaze he was receiving. Maintaining direct eye contact, he continued. “I will be ta’ka’le for you and you alone. You are-”

‘What is your plan? You orchestrated this. What were your intentions?” Spock demanded in an unusually quite and harsh voice.

“You are the son of Sarek, of the house of Surak. You hold a position of prominence on our planet…Among the entire Federation. You are a legend among the galaxies because of your accomplishments in Star Fleet. Your mate or consort would likewise be relegated to a similar position. As a Lower Ambassador, I cannot risk an indiscreet mate. As ta’ka and a Fleet officer, you would be discreet with any extramarital affairs. You would stand to lose a great deal otherwise. You would be the ideal mate for me, additionally-”

“That is enough,” Spock jerked at the covers of the bed near his leg in an irritated manner. “You have no interest in me as a person, only my ability to advance your social standing.”

Spock stood and went into the bathroom, deciding that a shower would allow him some time to rein in his emotions. His plan failed to work as he had anticipated; while in the shower, he found himself to be a captive audience, as Dometric entered the room and continued in an attempt to placate his partner.

“You are not ta’ka’le and do not insult my intelligence by pretending to be so! You would not be content to allow your body to be used in such a manner. It is not a need for you to act as ta’ka’le. It serves no-”


“I said enough,” Spock admonished as he stepped from the shower. “There are things you do not know about me. This is the very reason I have not even considered melding with you… Things you could not begin to understand.”

Spock dried and prepared to dress while Dometric petulantly slouched along after him.

“I had assumed it was because you did not have the knowledge or the ability to do so.”

As Spock’s eyebrow threatened to join his hairline, he wondered how far the lower Ambassador’s career was destined to go with him operating under such biased and uninformed beliefs. The next statement to be uttered by the young man did not make the situation any better.

Spock yanked on the first robe he found, shoved his feet into a pair of boots and headed for the door. A glance at the mirror as he passed had him pulling the robe’s cowl over his damp and disorderly hair. He opened the door just slowly enough to advise Dometric he should be out of the apartment by noon. As the door slammed, Dometric returned to the bedroom to see the sun rising and that there were signs of activity already visible from the apartment across the courtyard.

‘Has Spock melded with him? Are you preparing to receive an enraged Vulcan at any minute?’ Dometric fumed as he punched the button to close the drapes. With a sigh, he sat on the bed and surveyed the refined quality of the room; it was definitely going to be a long day. He was able to draw solace from the fact that the ambassador would never know about the failed attempt at a relationship with his son. They were not close; practically strangers, even by Vulcan standards, and to discuss this would violate all Vulcan rules of privacy.

######

Sarek heard the bed covers rustle as Amanda turned restlessly. Once they had bonded, she had never been able to sleep well without him by her side. He opened his end of their bond and was inundated by the vividness of her mind. It was a swiftly but smoothly flowing current; ordered, but never calm. He sent a feeling of warmth and strength through the link, and allowed himself a smile, and a nearly silent chuckle, as his wife moaned at the mental touch. He felt her slipping back into restful sleep and briefly considered taking his pleasure with her as she slept. The thought was dismissed after a few moments though; he preferred to hear her cry out in release. He allowed memories to provide a pleasant distraction from his dilemma with Spock.

It had taken Sarek years to learn the technique for inducing deep sleep through their bond. With that mastered, it had been several more months before he had initiated sexual contact with Amanda while she was in the mentally induced sleep. That first time had been mystical for him. Hesitantly, and with extreme caution, he had eased her gown up to her waist and the silky panties down until they lay at the foot of the bed. He gripped the backs of her thighs, lifting her legs up and back until her knees were on the mattress beside her shoulders; her back curved so that her most intimate core was opened and lifted up to him…and he looked. For what seemed to be an endless eternity he simply looked. Neatly trimmed honey-gold hair accented the pale pink tissues, her labia were thin and naturally blossomed open for him. He had stared in awe at the true beauty of the human female form. The only other times he had seen his wife spread open like this, her labia had been swollen and dark red; her vagina gaping open and dripping fluids, either from their mating or from their son’s birth. During the controlled sleep, her scent had been light and slightly sweet, drastically different from when she was aroused or after their mating, when his scent mixed with hers.

In this position, even the creamy pale globes of her bottom had been parted for his inspection, a sight he had only seen once before. Then, with the Vulcan Healers present, he had felt it would be improper to let his thoughts wander to such things during Spock’s birth. However, under the induced sleep the puckered opening was relaxed, only flexing when an air current moved across it. Concerned that he would lack the courage to attempt this again, and believing that he would never be able to do such a thing with Amanda awake, he delicately caressed the taboo body part. At first, he had done so with shy, fleeting strokes, barely making contact with the puckered skin. Gradually, his touch became more confident, as well as more curious.

Thirty years later, Sarek sat before the open window of their bedroom in the Ambassadorial compound and shivered as the cool night air dried the fluids forming on the dark green tip of his cock, and at the double ridges around his shaft, while he masturbated to the memories.

How beautiful the sight had been… Her vagina had flexed and relaxed irregularly, pushing her secretions out of that small opening as his middle finger had probed its entire length into her rectum. He had pressed against her walls, massaged, prodded, curled, and uncurled his finger, even twisted his hand so that his finger would rotate inside of her. The more vigorously he explored her tight rectum, the more fluid seeped from her vagina. Her labia had glistened as the light of Vulcan’s sister planet and the Watcher’s red moon streamed through the window. He had just barely brushed his thumb across her clitoris when the tight ring of muscle clamped down on his invading finger and she shuddered through her orgasm. Now, just as then, his own cum felt scalding hot as it shot onto his chest, stomach, and hand in one long, high-pressured, continuous stream. He let his ragged breathing return to normal on its own while he remembered replacing her panties and pulling her gown down, before lying beside his wife and releasing his mental control of her sleep. He had still been awake when he felt her jerk into a sitting position. In fearful apprehension, he waited for her rebuke as she slipped out of bed and entered their bathroom. It never came, and with a smug sense of pride, he realized that she was masturbating. To Amanda it had all been a dream. To Sarek it had been a frighteningly beautiful experiment with the violation of Vulcan laws pertaining to mind control… The first of many.