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“And he has no tongue?” The Klingon commander’s eyes glitter as he gazes at Kirk.
Kirk feels their coolness slink over him in an uninvited scrutiny. Don’t respond, he can see the warning in Spock’s eyes. Captain, please.
Even for Spock he can’t hold back. “I have a tongue.”
The Klingon’s response twists in his gut and Kirk knows he’s made a misstep. He can see Spock over the man’s shoulder and sure, Vulcans don’t get emotional. That’s not disappointment he sees in Spock’s eyes. Nope.
* * *
Spock, of course, doesn’t mention it.
Kirk almost wishes he would, but they have some munitions supplies to blow up, and some Organians to try to reason with. There’s time enough to deal with that look later.
* * *
Once the Klingons know who they are, the game is up.
They take him to the Klingon’s office while Spock is hustled off to who knows where.
Kor nods at him. “Sit.”
Kirk acquiesces in silence. Tension crawls up the back of his neck, tight and stiff, as Kor circles him in a predatory manner.
“You may remember what I said earlier.”
“You said a lot of things.” Kirk says. “Which in particular am I supposed to remember?”
Kor chuckles. “I see that having a Vulcan aboard your ship has rubbed off on you.”
Kirk ignores that and just waits. He wasn’t prepared for the Organian leader to just reveal his identity like that, but it’s too late now. Plainly put, this is not an ideal situation.
“Well?” Kor demands, coming around to face him once more.
“Well, what?” Kirk tilts his head back.
“Let’s see it.”
Kirk just looks at him. Now that Kor knows who he is, the satisfaction is practically oozing out of him. So very pleased to have captured a starship captain. Any captain would have done, but Kirk is a unexpected prize.
The Klingon smiles. “Your temper, captain, is very ill indeed.” He grips Kirk’s jaw, forcing his head up as he pulls Kirk’s mouth open.
Kirk spits at him. Probably Spock would have disapproved of that too. Just as well he isn’t here to see it then.The answering blow stings his cheek, knocking him back in the chair. The next one jars his teeth.
“Shall I bring your friend in?”
Kirk grits his teeth, unwilling to give in and respond. The next slap is right across his mouth, stinging his lips.
“Show me.” The commander persists.
When Kirk doesn’t move, Kor jerks him up by the back of the neck, wrenching him out of the chair. He throws Kirk to the floor, but Kirk rolls with it, rising to his feet. At least he gets in a blow of his own before the commander pins him to the floor, his boot on Kirk’s throat.
“I would have said you were quite feisty for an Organian.” The Klingon chuckles. “As it is, knowing who you truly are, I expected more of a fight from you, Captain Kirk.”
Kirk squirms, but the boot presses down uncomfortably. He brings up his hands to shove at it, overthrowing the Klingon.
Kor staggers back, but regains his balance. “Guards!”
They restrain him embarrassingly quickly, returning him to the chair and holding his arms behind his back.
Kor spits, testing his jaw before he stalks over to smack Kirk coolly across the mouth. The violence is getting repetitive. Kirk can’t help thinking maybe they’re right and Spock has rubbed off on him. Of course, not exactly how he would have liked, but well, you can’t have everything.
“Open your mouth.” Kor orders. His patience is growing thin though Kirk doubts he ever had much to begin with.
“No.”
“Open it, or I’ll have your Vulcan friend brought in.”
Kirk hesitates, but he can’t help remembering the look in Spock’s eyes. Whatever he’d said, the scanner had affected him somewhat. He can’t be put through that again. Not if Kirk can prevent it.
Reluctantly, he opens his mouth.
Kor smiles. “Well?”
Feeling like a fool, Kirk slowly pushes his tongue out. It reminds him of being examined by a doctor. Even Bones has a better bedside manner than this.
The Klingon studies him, clearly amused, before issuing another order. “Kneel.”
They force him to his knees regardless of whether or not he ever intended to comply. Kor walks back and forth in front of him.
“I told you that you would be taught to use your tongue.”
“So you did.” Kirk mutters.
The commander stops, his boots firmly planted in front of Kirk. “So I shall select a suitable task for your first lesson. Clean my boots.”
“They look clean enough to me.”
The guards force his head down till his face is pressed against the floor. At last Kor nods at them and they release him. Kirk braces his hands on the floor, glaring upward.
“Begin.”
If he doesn’t do this, they’ll torture Spock’s mind. His pride or Spock’s mind, there’s little contest there which is the more important.
Hesitantly Kirk licks the tip of the right boot. The stink of the leather makes his nose wrinkle. He works his way gradually over the expanse of the boot. The worn tanned hide of the leather dries the salvia in his mouth. By the time he’s done, his tongue is bone dry.
Kor makes a show of studying his boot before pronouncing it “Adequate.” He moves it, replacing it with his left boot. “Now, the other.”
“Too dry.” Kirk rasps.
“Well then, put that tongue to use and beg me for a drink.”
It takes all the control Kirk has not to punch the Klingon in the groin. Even so his hands ball tightly into fists before he can speak the words. “Please, may I have some water?”
“Again.”
“Please.” Kirk repeats, keeping his tone even.
Kor considers him. “Do it as though you were pleading for his life.”
He only laughs at the hatred in Kirk’s eyes.
Kirk swallows, the motion dry and pained. “Please.”
It’s desperate and low. He despises the forlorn note of vulnerability there in the word. But he thinks of Spock, and again, “Please,” soft and helpless. But it’s not helpless. This is how he can help Spock.
“Open your mouth.” Kor reaches for the jug on his desk.
Kirk does, but one of the guards grips his hair, pulling his head back. Half the wine splashes over his cheeks, dripping down his chin, but the amount that hits his tongue is blessedly cool and wet, albeit sour. Kirk swallows quickly, choking as he does.He wipes the wine from his face, tamping down the rage building within him. His anger is useless here.
The boot is once more presented to him.
It’s slow going, but he manages to clean the second one, stroke by ragged stroke. When he straightens up, Kor smirks at him. “Well done.”
Kor nods at the guards. “Put him in with his friend for the time being.”
* * *
The door is slammed shut after Kirk’s tossed into the cell. He straightens up to see Spock regarding him. Kirk shrugs, brushing the dust off his tunic.
“Are you injured, captain?”
“Just my pride.” Kirk goes over to inspect the door.
“There’s no way out.” Spock informs him.
Kirk sighs. “Of course not. That would be too easy.” He glances at Spock who’s still looking at him. “What?” He keeps pacing, trying to think of anything. Unfortunately there’s not much to go on.
“A curious time to imbibe alcohol.” Spock remarks.
Kirk turns sharply. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing? Sitting in there, making nice with the enemy and having a drink while you-” He cuts himself off abruptly. None of this is Spock’s fault. It’s unfair to take it out on him. But the notion that he could do such a thing makes Kirk sicker than the knowledge that he just licked a Klingon’s boots.
“I did not mean to imply anything of the like, captain.” Spock responds after a moment.
Kirk sighs. He sinks down on the floor against the wall. “Tell me more about the scanner.” He knows that Spock already did, but he wants to hear more, needs to know…
“It’s a unique machine. Crudely designed, but effective.”
“How did it feel?”
“Uncomfortable.” Spock says. “I don’t believe the effects will be long lasting.”
Kirk closes his eyes. That’s the heart of it. They know he’ll prevent that being used on Spock again. It’s obvious, even to a Klingon, how much Kirk’s willing to protect his first officer. He remind himself that he’d do the same for any crew member, but he doesn’t really believe it.
The cell is cold and dank. Kirk rubs his hands together in an effort to warm them. If it’s cold for him, he doesn’t want to think about how Spock’s doing. Ordinarily he’d suggest sitting close together to share body heat, but he’s reluctant to be that close to Spock right now on the off chance that Spock picks up on anything.
It’s selfish, but Kirk keeps his distance.
* * *
He’s not surprised when they come for him again.
“Just the human.” The guard growls as Spock takes a step forward, intent on following Kirk.
“It’s all right.” Kirk mutters.
Spock gives him a look that means “Evidently, it is nothing of the sort.” But so what if Spock knows he’s lying?
They take him back to the office. Kor is seated at his desk, enjoying a cup of wine. He smiles pleasantly at Kirk. “Well, captain. I trust you are enjoying our hospitality.”
“Oh, I am, immensely.” Kirk waits. What does the Klingon want this time?
Kor takes a sip. “I see your tongue is still not entirely tamed.”
“I’m afraid it’ll take more than a boot licking to do that.” Kirk knows it’s a mistake. He shouldn’t taunt the Klingon commander like this, but it’s all he has.
“I had a feeling you would agree.” Kor murmurs. “Get on your knees, captain.”
“Don’t tell me you managed to dirty your boots already.”
“Now, captain.”
Kirk kneels. He has a sense of where this is going, but it’s not until Kor reaches for the buckle on his belt that he actually faces the reality of it.
“You think this will do the trick?” To his credit, his voice remains deadpan.
“I think it will prove beneficial to your education.” Kor’s smirk widens. “Now, you’re certainly adept at witticisms, captain. Let’s see if you are capable of anything further with that tongue.” He unfastens his pants.
There aren’t a lot of experiences Kirk has shied away from, but sucking Klingon cock is definitely not on his list of things he wanted to try before he died. Mostly because he’s never met a Klingon he actually liked, not because he personally objects to them as a race. They’re just not in his realm of interest. Plenty of other aliens are, of course.
There’s a light slap across his face, bringing his attention back to the moment.
“Shall I bring the Vulcan in to observe?” Kor threatens softly.
“It’s not necessary.” Kirk says. He takes a deep breath, and lowers his head, conscious of the guards watching him, aware of the commander standing over him. The audience is proof that this little lesson is meant to sink in fully.
The act itself is nothing consequential, merely repugnant. That’s the sort of thing Spock would say, and Kirk finds himself almost smiling at the thought.
“This amuses you?” Kor growls. He grips Kirk’s head hard, jerking Kirk’s mouth off his cock. “You wretched human,” he backhands Kirk across the mouth, holding his head in place. “If I have to cut out your tongue, I won’t hesitate to do so.”
He forces Kirk’s head back down to his crotch, thrusting into his mouth. Kirk gags, struggling to gain any sort of control. It’s impossible of course. His jaw aches as Kor thrusts deeper, saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth.
“When this is done,” Kor’s hand is heavy on his scalp. “I will have the Vulcan brought in and you will watch as I decimate his mind.”
Kirk hears the threat floating above his head. The Klingon’s not joking about this. He knows it will happen regardless of what he’s done. So very deliberately, consciously, acutely aware of what he’s doing, Kirk bites down.
Hard.
The howl of pain is music to his ears, even while Kor wrenches him off, shoving him backward onto the floor. There’s a taste of foreign blood in his mouth. It makes his stomach heave. Kirk spits the mess on the floor.
“Get him out.” Kor wheezes painfully, clutching at his genitals. “Take him back to the cell and prepare the scanner.”
The brief sense of victory is pointless perhaps, but even so, the loss of it is worse.
This time Kirk doesn’t struggle as they lead him away.
* * *
He’s gratified to see Kor walking rather stiffly when they meet again. Throughout the debate with the Organians the Klingon holds himself carefully, darting vicious looks in Kirk’s direction. Spock obviously notices something’s going on, but fortunately he doesn’t press the issue.
* * *
Once they’re back on the ship it’s another matter. Kirk knows this conversation is coming, so he decides he might as well be drunk for it.
He’s halfway through a bottle of whiskey that McCoy gave him for Christmas last year when there’s a knock at his door.
“Come in.” Kirk takes another sip.
Spock stands there in his quarters, hands clasped dutifully behind his back as he surveys his captain. “Is this an inopportune moment, captain?”
“Not at all. Please come in and tell me whatever it is you’re about to tell me.” Kirk gestures vaguely towards a chair. “Or better yet, let me tell you.” That's a much better plan. He can say exactly what Spock's been thinking and then Spock can just leave him alone.
“Captain?” Spock looks slightly questioning.
“Something like, why captain, how did you injure the Klingon commander? Me, Mr. Spock? What makes you think I had anything to do with him getting injured? It’s quite obvious, captain that you had something to do with it from the levels of frustration and anger that were radiating throughout the room, and yes,” he waves it off before Spock can break into this monologue, “I know technically anger doesn’t radiate.”
Spock remains silent.
“Well?” Kirk squints at him, “Nothing to say?”
“Please continue.” Spock nods at him. “You seem to have plenty to say on the matter.”
“I sucked him off.” Kirk says flatly. “There. What do you have to say to that?”
Spock merely gazes at him.
“What, no eyebrow raise? No comment at all? You disappoint me, Spock.”
“Your phrasing leads me to suspect that you believe it to be the other way around. That, in fact, I am somehow supposed to be disappointed in you by learning this.”
“Aren’t you?” Kirk asks. What he wants to ask is, “How could you not be?” But that sounds a little needy even for him, so for once he doesn’t say it. Funny how he can hold back with Spock. Klingons, on the other hand, get to hear everything.
He sighs. “I should have kept my mouth shut like you always say.”
“I don’t believe I ever said any such thing, captain.”
“No, it’s more like, ‘Captain, was it entirely necessary to antagonize them so incessantly?’”
Spock inclines his head. “That does sound like something I would have occasion to say.”
“See.” Kirk sinks back down in his chair. “I just saved you the trouble.” He finishes his whiskey, ignoring the way Spock is studying him. He’s used to it.
“You omitted one thing I would have said, captain.”
“What’s that?”
“That I find it both highly illogical and unnecessary that the Organians did not implement their chosen course of action sooner, to prevent you from that experience.”
Kirk shrugs. “Too late now.” It’s true. And deep down, he knows it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that there’s no war. He knows this. And Spock is still speaking to him. That counts for something.
Tomorrow it will count more. For now though, no matter how much he drinks, his tongue still tastes stale. His lips are sore from the Klingon’s blows. His face aches, but his pride matters little.
Kirk stands, reaching for the whiskey.
Spock reaches over to place a hand over his.
Kirk turns to look at him.
“Jim.” Spock’s hands touch his face gently, one palm on each cheek. Kirk gazes back at him mutely as Spock’s fingers tenderly caress his skin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He leans forward, and Kirk can’t breathe as Spock’s lips touch his.
Spock is kissing him. Soft, delicious kisses, then Kirk’s lips part, and Spock’s tongue is in his mouth, tangling with his own. Spock’s heat surges through him, and then Spock is fucking sucking on his tongue. Kirk groans, his legs trembling with the effort to stand. Greedy, eager little sucks, sending frenzied electricity through Kirk’s body. His erection presses heatedly into Spock’s thigh, but if Spock notices he doesn’t deem it important enough to stop.
Spock’s soothing his tongue, as one of his hands slides down to cup Kirk’s ass against him. Now he definitely has to feel it. Kirk can’t even talk. He merely moans into Spock’s mouth.
Finally Spock releases him.
His tongue is energized? Replenished? Something along those lines. Whatever Kirk means, it doesn’t matter anymore. Spock’s hand is on his ass, warm and reassuring.
“Spock.” He wants to step back, but Spock doesn’t move so he must like feeling Kirk’s dick and holding his ass. Good enough.
“Your tongue is neither loathsome nor disgusting to me.”
Kirk stiffens at Spock’s words.
“As it so happens, I am extremely fond of it.”
Kirk has to smile at that. “Is that right?”
“Affirmative.” Spock’s hand flexes slightly on Kirk’s ass, sending a rush of warmth through him.
“Well,” Kirk decides his hands might as well do something too, so he grips Spock’s ass back. “That’s good.”
“It is most handy considering how much you use it on a daily basis.”
Kirk barks a laugh. “I’ll just have to keep on amusing you then, won’t I?”
“It will not be difficult, I assure you.”
“Spock.”
“Yes, captain?”
“Shut up and kiss me again.”