Jul 192009
 

Title: Meeting the Other Man
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters: Spock, Stonn
Rating: E
Warnings: Non-con
Notes: This is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever finished writing. It is, unfortunately, not quite what the OP asked for. Spock was quite offended at the idea, and just wouldn’t quite take it, sitting still.


For this prompt from the crackmeme:
An old childhood bully is onboard the Enterprise and sees Spock. Noncon ensues, and Spock just takes it. I don’t care if someone finds him after and comforts him, or if someone walks in, or if he just lays there after. I just want Spock to suffer a bit.


"You took my mate, little half-breed, and now she is dead."

Spock’s spine stiffened, almost imperceptibly, as he registered the voice at his back. There was no mistaking it, even after all these years.

"Stonn," Spock’s voice was flat. "I had not known you were to be a member of this delegation. And I do not recall laying claim to any mates but my own."

"You wouldn’t. She was promised to you, but she was mine. When you turned human, and came to the Federation before properly training at the Science Academy, she lay with me instead of you. She was my mate, and if you had been faster, she would not be dead." Stonn threw his weight, putting it all into the hand he drove into Spock’s back.

"If she had lived," Spock hissed, face pressed against the wall, "I would have renounced her. She could have been yours. I have taken a mate."

"You cannot have taken a Vulcan mate, or I would have found the listing. You cannot have taken a human mate, because humans cannot be bonded." Stonn stepped in, positioning himself tightly against Spock’s body. "You are lying to me, half-breed."

"My parents were bonded. Your logic is faulty." Spock sounded smug, even as Stonn’s fingers slipped under his shirt, tracing the side of his body in a most unpleasant fashion.

"Your father was a liar and a traitor, and your mother was a whore, just like her little half-breed son." Stonn stepped back, one hand pressed against Spock’s back, the other jerking and twisting at a seam in Spock’s slim-cut uniform pants, which split at the pressure, as it had been designed to do. Star Fleet uniforms were built for long-lasting comfort and ease of escape, in the event one got a sleeve caught in a malfunctioning matter intake vent. In cases like this, the seams were designed to go, and Stonn took merrily vicious advantage of that fact.

"I can’t see you — even you — risking negotiations on an entire trade agreement to satisfy your petty urge for revenge," Spock pointed out, quite sensibly.

"But, I won’t be risking anything, will I, Spock? You’d never suffer the humiliation of being caught in this position, or of having it spread across the galaxy from the court transcripts. You’re too human about your logic, and not logical enough about your humanity." Stonn unfastened his own trousers with one hand, still holding Spock to the wall with the other arm. "You were promised to my mate. You were half bonded to her. What little is left of T’Pring, in this world, is in you, half-breed, and I will have it of you."

"Will you then?" Spock asked, still smug, even as he gritted his teeth against the pain, as Stonn pushed into him. "I think all you will have of me is me. Just like you always wanted."

"Filth!" Stonn slammed his hand against the back of Spock’s head, ramming it into the wall.

Spock saw stars just long enough to hide the shift of Stonn’s hand from the back of his head to his face. That was when the terror sank in. That was when he knew a fear deep enough to loosen his knees.

"No! Do what you wish to my body, but leave my mind out of this! I do not have her any more than you do!" Spock slid into the mind meld, still screaming. And everything was blotted out. It was, he reflected, like suffocating in cotton fluff. White, clinging pressure from all sides, like a pillow pressed over his face. Defence mechanism, he finally registered.

He had no idea if the grim grin he felt had actually affected his face, at all, but he could feel the violation of his flesh from both sides, now. It was only slightly more pleasurable for Stonn than for himself, and he took some grim amusement at that fact, as he strung together memories in a particular sequence, readying them before he cut past the defensive fluff his mind had thrown up. First, he brought forth everything he recalled of T’Pring — including her disgust and disappointment with him. Then, drawing on Stonn’s need to see the bond — to see through the bond, he raised the memories of his proper mate, his bonded companion — his t’hy’la. Let it never be said that even in submission, Spock could not find a way to deal an unexpected blow.

Stonn pulled back from the mind meld as if he’d been burned, as images of Jim Kirk writhing in pleasure exploded through his mind. It was unquestionably, the most revolting experience of his adult life, and Spock was going to pay for that, in full.

"You disgust me. You let a human use you, like this —" Stonn thrust into Spock, again. "— and you enjoy it. You really are a sickening little traitor to our race, aren’t you?"

Spock shuddered, still nauseated from the invasion into his mind, but managed to lift an eyebrow in smug satisfaction. He was, after all, still winning, regardless of outside appearances. Only one of them was taking it like a Vulcan, and it wasn’t the pureblood — although, being a smug bitch about it probably wasn’t a terribly Vulcan reaction, either. On the dim side, the tremors had taken hold, as his body and mind rejected the repeated, forceful intrusions, and no amount of rationality would contain that reaction, regardless of how he tried. The shudders had become a constant full-body vibration.

"Shaking like a frightened animal, just like you always did. Still afraid of me, after all these years. Just like you should be." Stonn found himself irrationally aroused by Spock’s uncontrollable shaking. "Going to show you what it’s like to have a real Vulcan. Give you something to think about when you go home to girl up to your human."

Spock’s ears burned a brilliant green at the accusations, but he would not allow Stonn even that victory. "You’d rather," he panted, "I girl up to you?"

His head met the wall again, almost hard enough to knock him out, as Stonn punched him in the back of the head, again. Violence was acceptable. He knew how to handle violence. Anything that kept the adrenaline up high enough to blot out the pain and the abject humiliation.

He was, in the end, slightly more concerned about Jim’s reaction to this, than anything else. He knew that Jim would put him above the trade negotiations — above anything else — and take rather a violent objection to this entire series of events. That, of course, could not be allowed, until the paperwork was finished and the Denobulan delegation had left the ship. He really wasn’t that concerned about the Vulcan delegation. That might actually provide some amusement, although he would indubitably have to save the captain if Jim was irrational enough to start a fistfight. Which he would be. Inevitably.

Spock’s mind had wandered far enough off the situation at hand that the adrenaline began to fade, and the entire experience re-centred with jarring force, as Stonn’s thrusts became arrhythmic. His own body felt like it was being gutted, each time Stonn drew back, and his hands had clenched into a decorative ridge in the wall. With every thrust, air escaped him in a harsh grunt. This was what he’d been trying not to feel. In desperation, Spock slammed his own head into the wall, but the impact lacked the necessary force to take him out of himself.

And then, Stonn’s teeth were in his shoulder. With a triumphant snarl, Stonn filled him, holding him in place for another minute or two. Spock knew that Stonn would be weak on his feet — that if he wanted to, now would be the time to lay him out, cold. But, that would endanger the trade agreement with the Denobulans, and that was an unacceptable consequence. Timing was the essence of all things, and just as Stonn had studiously caught him, unprepared, under circumstances in which he would have to acquiesce, there would be a time to return the favour and all those that had come before it.

Stonn slid himself out of Spock’s body, wiping himself clean on Spock’s shirt, before carefully closing his pants and stepping back. Spock slid to the floor, turning himself so his back would be against the wall, as he sank behind the cover of his raised knees, still shaking.

"I think maybe you did not lie to me, half-breed. I think you do not have her, and for that, I will never forgive you." Stonn walked out, without a glance back.

Spock knew he had none of T’Pring — he hadn’t actually bonded with her — but Stonn’s wrath made him wish he had, if only so he would have had something to offer. If he’d been faster, if he’d been smarter, there would still be a planet, there, and both T’Pring and his mother would be alive. None of this would have been necessary — he’d have been able to go home and take his revenge, giving T’Pring to Stonn, and lording his generosity over the pureblood Vulcan’s head. But, it had not come to pass, and now, it would be some time before he could stand.