Greywolf's 'Small Screen' Round Robin contribution
K/S, Mirror Universe [NC17]

Warning: sort of non-cons stuff in here. Only sort of, but still...

    "Now listen, Q, I've had just about enough of your antics--"
    "Jean-Luc, I'm crushed. Crushed, I tell you." The entity composed his perfect features into a studied pout, an effect aided by his current costume of red silk brocade smoking jacket, and tight black satin trousers with flaring calves. A flowing white silk cravat was draped artistically about his neck, and he waved an elegantly limp wrist to emphasize his point.
    Picard refused to react. He really was getting fed up. "At least show me something interesting," he grumbled, "if you simply *must* continue..."
    Q raised one eyebrow in an oddly familiar gesture. "*Interesting*, hmm? Very well. Interesting it shall be. Voila!" And with a snap of Q's fingers, they were *elsewhere*...

-----///-----

    <flash!>
    Picard found himself standing off to one side in what looked very much like a starship's gymnasium. But this was no ship he'd ever visited before. Along with the weight machines and treadmills were rack after rack of assorted practice weapons, everything from old-fashioned quarterstaves to the newest phaser-tag gear. And on the far wall of the enormous room was an ominous mural -- the Earth, wreathed in flames and pierced by a sword.
    Picard was one of the few modern StarFleet officers who could recognize that insignia. To this day, the records of the original Enterprise's encounter with the so-called mirror universe were restricted to officers of command grade or higher -- and access was issued on a need-to-know basis even then. He turned to look at Q, but the entity was at his enigmatic best, merely looking smug and staying silent.
    Given the subdued lighting, it was probably some time in the ship's night watch. Picard was still surveying the gym when the doors swished open and Captain Kirk and Commander Spock strode in. Both were clad in baggy white practice clothes, much like Terran karate gear. But these were not the Kirk and Spock that Picard knew.
    This Kirk had a cold and arrogant cast of feature. He swaggered as he walked, his head held high, a sneer on that handsome face. And Spock -- this Spock didn't so much walk as stalk, gliding across the floor like a panther moving through the jungle. He wore a beard and mustache, and where the Spock of Picard's universe strove always for neutrality of aspect, this man positively reeked of danger, and an easy confidence in his own power. Picard sucked air involuntarily; this Vulcan's feline sexuality affected him like a fist in the belly.
    Captain and first officer bowed, moved through their warmups, and bowed again, facing one another. Both began to circle, each stalking the other, both alert for any opportunity to attack. Their moves were hauntingly familiar -- and yet Picard knew he'd never seen their like.
    Kirk struck first, a feint to the left, followed by a dancing lunge, low and to the right. But Spock matched it easily, and after grappling for a moment they sprang apart.
    Spock made the next move, but he had no better luck; despite the differences in physique they seemed fairly well matched in skills.
    Another quick flurry and when they stilled, Kirk was down, though not yet pinned. The Vulcan moved to consolidate his hold, and Kirk seemed to explode out from under him. Now it was Kirk who had a near-pin -- now it was Spock again. Both were sweating, despite the cool air, and Picard was amused to note both were hard, their cocks pushing stiffly against their baggy clothes. They ignored that, however, and kept on wrestling, endlessly jockeying for advantage.
    The end was inevitable, of course. Kirk was definitely tiring now, while Spock was barely breathing hard. The captain almost got his exec. in a headlock, but couldn't hold on. Spock made it look contemptuously easy as he sprang free and quickly slammed the human to the mats. They froze, the human on his back, the Vulcan's arm across his throat. Their seconds shifted nervously, hands near phasers, until finally Kirk gritted his teeth and growled "Okay!"
    The Vulcan smiled, a feral and sensuous smile that seemed oddly appropriate for this very un-Spockish Spock. He held the pose just long enough to show his strength, then rolled off and allowed his captain to rise.
    "Another bout, Captain?" The look on that lean, bearded face was one of tolerant amusement. Kirk, by contrast, was sporting a thunderous frown.
    "No, not tonight, Spock. Think I'll call it a night." He laughed, and Picard felt a chill trickle down his spine. "Hey -- maybe I'll drop by Chekov's quarters. Sulu's on duty tonight, and our busy little ensign ought to be over his session in the agony booth by now..." He turned, then, and sauntered out, leaving the Vulcan standing frozen. Slanted black eyebrows lowered, black eyes flashed angrily, and for a moment a jealous scowl darkened Spock's face before that iron Vulcan control was re-imposed.
    But when Spock made himself unclench his fists, Picard could see the angry green marks where the nails had bitten into that pale skin. Spock took three deep breaths, *made* himself relax, and then stalked out of the gym.
    Q smiled knowingly. "Well, *that* was fun, wasn't it, mon capitain? Mmm, you could cut the tension between those two with a knife!" The entity licked his lips and smiled more widely.
    Picard just sighed. He was disappointed; he'd been expecting... well, *more*, somehow. Damn it, this was ridiculous. He glared at Q. "And your *point* was, Q?"
    "Ah, patience, Jean-Luc. Patience." He rolled his eyes, speaking as if to an audience offstage. "It's supposed to be a virtue, but you couldn't prove that by any of the humans *I've* met." He sighed, and snapped his fingers again.
    Officer's quarters, by the look of it, and on the same ship.
    "Where are we now, Q?"
    "Hush now, Jean-Luc. If you pay attention, I think you'll figure this all out quite soon." The entity walked across the room and sank down on the edge of the luxurious bed, which was richly strewn with an assortment of silks and furs. Picard preferred to remain standing for now.
    Q took in his rigid posture, the crossed arms, the scowl, and laughed. "Oh, come now, mon capitain -- haven't you enjoyed our journey thus far?"
    Picard nodded, grudgingly admitting that he had.
    "Well, then, trust me. You'll enjoy this, too. In fact, I believe the second act is about to begin..." The entity leaned back on his elbows, a position that amply displayed his masculine charms. Picard took a deep breath and wondered crossly to himself why it was so bloody hot in here.
    The door swished open and Kirk stalked in, scowling blackly and muttering to himself. His second, Farrell, glanced around the room and nodded, before retreating to stand guard in the hallway outside.
    The captain poured and drank three shots of brandy in quick succession, before his expression finally began to ease, the tight angry posture relaxing just a little. Still scowling, he began to disrobe, leaving a trail of clothing across the floor of his quarters. All the while he kept muttering angrily.
    Reminding himself that he was incorporeal and therefore safe, Picard stepped closer. He couldn't help feeling curious...
    "*Damn* you, Spock!! And damn Chekov, too, sniveling useless little drunk. Shit!" Still cursing, the now naked captain strode into the fresher.
    Picard glanced at Q. The entity merely shrugged. "Patience, my dear. All good things come to he who waits..." He smiled languidly, snapping his fingers again.
    It was as if the wall of Kirk's fresher were transparent, and Picard and Q stood behind it. They watched as the captain soaped himself and rinsed. Even now his cock was still half-erect, and Picard suddenly thought he could guess the real cause of the man's anger.
    "That's right, mon capitain," Q drawled. "What he really wants is Spock -- but this Kirk fancies himself quite the dom." The entity laughed. "His problem is, *this* Spock is not the least bit interested in submitting to anyone. Ah, me, such drama!" He snickered evilly.
    "That's all very well, Q, but what--"
    "Hisht! Now -- watch and learn, Jean-Luc..."
    Kirk had finished washing his hair. Now he took the soap and began to lather between his legs. His movements were languid and sensuous, the motions of one who prefers company, but is quite used to pleasuring himself alone if need be.
    Only, his body wasn't cooperating. His penis stayed only half-erect, despite his caresses. Once more that scowl of black anger began to gather on the handsome face--
    --only to vanish, replaced by pure shock, as a lean, dark-furred arm reached into the shower and a long-fingered hand settled itself at the juncture of Kirk's head and shoulder. A slight squeeze, and a shiver ran through the captain's muscular frame. He swayed, caught himself, grabbing at the sides of the stall to keep his feet.
    "Spock -- what the fu--" Another hand was laid across Kirk's mouth, stilling him.
    "Enough, human." Spock's voice was harsh, almost hoarse. "I grow weary of your endless dance of seduction and denial. I have had enough of your casual matings, your inability to commit, or even to be honest, with me or anyone else. Tonight you are *mine*, James Kirk!" And now the Vulcan, nude himself, stepped into the shower and pressed himself against the human's back, rubbing his own, fully erect cock between those round pink cheeks.
    Kirk's eyes went wide and his cock twitched, started to fill. "Spock, what are you doi--"
    "Be silent!" The deep voice hissed in his ear. Fingers paused, a warning, almost covering his mouth. "You shall not dissuade me, Kirk. I claim what is mine. You have taunted and denied me for far too long. No more!!" One long-fingered hand strayed around to grasp the human's cock. Kirk gasped and his cock twitched again, growing ever harder. A warm pink flush stole over the captain's flesh.
    The hazel eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as the heat of the Vulcan's cockhead stroked back and forth between his legs. Then he scowled, eyes opening wide. "Dammit, Spock -- NO."
    The Vulcan ignored him completely, simply moving a little faster. He reached up to toy with the human's nipples. Kirk took a deep breath, and suddenly threw himself to the side in a twisting, diving roll -- but it didn't do any good. The Vulcan was there waiting for him; one pinch of fingers on neck and Kirk was motionless on the floor of his own fresher, hazel eyes gone wide, spooked. Spock leaned down and scooped him up, seemingly without effort. Both men were fully erect, now, even though Kirk couldn't move. Spock stood under the shower long enough to rinse them both off, then turned and carried Kirk back into the bedroom.
    The captain was still trying to move, but his movements were slow and weak, uncoordinated and effectively useless. Spock put him down amid the furs and then just stood there, watching him, as the truth of his situation slowly dawned on the stubborn human. Spock leaned down closer to his face. "*Now* do you understand, Captain? You have been dancing with me since the day I came aboard this vessel; you have presumed that because I do not visibly react, I neither notice nor care what you do. You are wrong."
    Kirk spat something out, a sliding, hissing curse in what sounded like Orion trade talk, and probably was. "What are you gonna do now, Spock? Rape me? 'Cause if you are you'd better get on with it. You're a dead man once word gets out."
    The Vulcan simply laughed, and the sound of that laugh chilled Picard's bones. "Oh, no. Nothing so pedestrian as that, James Kirk. I shall take you, yes. But it will be at your own desire. I am not blind. I have seen you watching me. I have felt your thoughts, when we practice together." He pressed on the smaller man's shoulder again, and Kirk slumped, utterly boneless.
    Spock leaned down to speak very softly into the human's ear. "Now we shall see, *Captain*, what your true feelings might be." Kirk made what must have been a mighty effort, to sit up, to roll away -- anything. He did not succeed; he was barely able to move at all.
    Very gently, Spock reached down. Long slim fingers wandered across the hairless chest, pausing to tweak a nipple here, to delicately scratch at the skin there. A slight smile crossed the Vulcan's face as Kirk gasped once, and tried to hide it. Spock bent his head, to nip and nibble at the side of the human's neck, to run his pointed green tongue along Kirk's jaw. He turned and planted a kiss on the unmoving lips, a very soft and gentle one to start with. But it didn't stay that way. His hunger began to get the better of him, as the kiss deepened.
    A soft, muffled moan came from the man in his arms. Kirk's eyes were squinted shut; his breath rasped harshly in his throat as warm Vulcan fingers wandered here and there across his body, pausing here to tease his navel, there to stroke along his all-too-eager cock. Kirk might not want what was happening, but his body obviously did not share his doubts. Spock smiled again, and bent to caress Kirk's sex with his tongue.
    Hunger and fury were at war on the human's face. Spock licked all around his cock, mouthed each testicle, very gently, nipped at the tender skin between cock and balls, nuzzled at the crack of Kirk's ass. This brought another moan from the human, and a smile from the Vulcan. Of a sudden he sucked Kirk into his mouth, all the way. Held him there, swallowed, sucked -- and let go again. A groan of frustration was his reward.
    "You see, James... your body knows what you want. You know it too, if you will be honest with yourself. With me." And again that quick sucking caress, and withdrawal. And now the human's hips were moving, just a little, as he tried to thrust himself back into the hot mouth of his tormentor. Just a touch of that tongue, to the tip of his eager erection -- but when he tried for more, Spock sat up instead, cradling the human in his arms. As he spoke, his fingers continued to wander, to pinch and stroke and torment that cool human skin -- now blushing and getting warmer by the minute. "Admit it, James. Do you not also desire me? Is this not pleasant? I realize that you would not have made the first move -- but I grow tired of waiting for you."
    He stroked two fingers down the crack of Kirk's ass again, pausing to press, briefly, at the tightly-puckered entrance, then around to cradle the soft, furred balls. Picard was amused to note the green flush highlighting the points of his ears, his cheekbones, the back of his neck... He was a little surprised to find it necessary to adjust himself -- his cock didn't seem to give a damn what sex the two he watched might be. He had to remind himself that Q was watching; his fingers didn't want to leave the warmth between his legs. But when he glanced over at Q, the entity seemed oblivious, intent on the bed and the two who lay there.
    Kirk was obviously at war with himself; his body could not help responding to the Vulcan's so-warm touch. He shook his head, beginning to regain his strength -- but when the Vulcan's tongue touched his cock again, he couldn't stop himself from thrusting eagerly, from *wanting*, *needing* more... Spock laid him down and sat up, looking down at him, letting his own hunger show. For once the Vulcan's face was open and unguarded, and Kirk's surprise was plain to see.
    "You see, James? Are you surprised that a Vulcan has needs, too? That it is *you* whom I desire? You should not be. Who else, upon this ship, is suitable? Most of the crew are sheep. Mindless followers, naturally subservient. They have their uses -- but I do not find them tempting. They present no challenge. But you..." And once more he bent down, to kiss and nip at the hard reddened nipples of his intended prey. Kirk gasped, his body beginning to tremble with eager hunger. His cock strained upwards, seeking what it couldn't reach.
    He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating fiercely. Then opened them, a triumphant smile on that handsome face. He reached, and this time his arms obeyed him, reaching to push Spock away from him. "You!" he growled. "You're a demon, come to torment me..."
    Another brush of Vulcan lips against his own. The deep voice, softened now and slightly slurred... "If you wish that of me, then I am." Sharp white teeth nipped at Kirk's earlobe, and he gasped again.
    "Aahh..." Then he scowled. "No! *Damn* you, Spock! I'm not your damned bed-slave... Let me *go*!"
    Spock leaned down close, to whisper into his ear. Picard had to strain to make it out. "I will *not*. I was willing to share this with you -- but I am not willing to leave without taking what I need. What, if you were capable of honesty, you would admit is your need also. I am a touch-telepath, *Captain*. You are not fooling anyone." And with that, he pushed Kirk down again. The human began to struggle, but his strength had not returned yet; his struggles availed him naught. Spock smiled, and a fierce and terrible smile it was. He licked his lips and bent down, pushing Kirk's legs apart, holding them so he could reach what he sought. He didn't touch the straining cock, or the balls that were now drawn tight from arousal. Instead he began to lick between the human's cheeks, wetting the flesh, poking the point of his tongue against the small dark pucker. Kirk growled and tried again to throw him off -- but he couldn't. Spock just laughed and drew his fingers down, touching, stroking, finally pushing one inside. Another gasp was his reward, and more frenzied attempts at escape. But even as he struggled, Kirk's cock was straining, rock-hard, his flesh mindlessly seeking its own reward. Spock took him in hand, began to stroke and squeeze, milking the drops of fluid that seeped from his tip, rubbing them on the human's ass. Preparing the way...
    Finally he slipped down between the straining thighs; put the tip of his cock against the now-slick ass. Leaned inward, his eyes closed in concentration... Kirk had not stopped fighting him, but all he managed to do was push himself even closer, and then the head of the Vulcan's cock popped inside him and he froze. Spock groaned and began to push once more, reaching as he did to grasp the human's cock again, to squeeze and stroke that all-too-eager flesh.
    The Vulcan thrust himself deeper. His eyes were squinted shut; the usually neat hair was tousled now, his face flushed green. Sweat shone on both their bodies. Picard was shocked at the strength of his own arousal. Despite his own feeling that what he was watching was wrong, his body didn't seem to care. It made him deeply uneasy -- but he couldn't bring himself to turn away.
    Kirk groaned, as Spock pulled almost all the way out, then thrust sharply inward again, not stopping till his balls pressed up against the human's ass. He shifted his hips, hunting for a certain angle -- when he found it, Kirk moaned and thrust himself upward, pleasure and fury both plain on his face. When Spock began to thrust again, the human joined him. Kirk's head fell back, his teeth fastened on his lip. He grasped Spock's shoulders, then drew his nails down the lean furred back, leaving angry trails of green behind. Spock's response was to bite the human's shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. Both men groaned, renewed their efforts.
    Now the sounds of flesh slapping flesh filled the air; the hot musky scent of Vulcan and human arousal, stifled moans and gasps. Spock's slight grunts of effort at the peak of each thrust, Kirk's growls answering him. Faster now, harder, both of them out of control. Clawing, biting, bruising one another, slamming themselves together... Both men gasping for air, crushing themselves together. Straining, quivering...
    Spock froze, head thrown back, lost in the throes of orgasm, spasms of pleasure rocking his body. He gasped, thrust in once more -- and collapsed across the human's belly, panting for air, the last tremors and quivers still coursing through him. Beneath him Kirk strained, tensed -- and finally surrendered, thrashing and moaning, as his own climax took him...
    And Q snapped his fingers, and once more he and Picard were alone in that dark, quiet not-place. The entity cocked his head, and Picard could see honest curiousity on those elegant features. With oddly mixed feelings, he noted the straining erection that tented the black silk trousers. Q actually seemed a little out of breath. Served him right; Picard's own balls were aching, his cock rock-hard and eager. He ignored it, unwilling to admit the strength of his body's response to *that*.
    The entity paused and drew a deep breath. "And so, mon capitain -- tell me. Was that lust or love we saw in there? I confess I honestly do not know."
    Picard waited a moment for his own breathing to steady down, for his body to cease its demands. Then he raised his head and met the entity's dark eyes, his gaze troubled, but steady. "Mon petit dieu -- I really could not tell." He laughed, though it was a trifle forced. "I don't think *they* know." He shivered, suddenly cold. He could not imagine what either man might feel; his own responses had made him very uncomfortable. Surely that was rape? He couldn't have been aroused by *that*... and yet... He had been. He was. He shivered again, and when Q once more settled a quilt around his shoulders he simply leaned back and accepted it, finding comfort in the warmth, unwilling to question further. In the back of his mind was the thought that surely, one day, those two would kill one another...