Spock accepted the food tray gingerly. It appeared to be standard prison rations of bread and water, as was often found in societies that had not yet come to understand the concept of humane treatment of prisoners.
The guard moved across the hallway with another tray. Jim took his portion silently, and they both waited as the guard walked back down the corridor and out the door. He glanced back at them through the barred window, then walked away.
Jim frowned at his plate. "Bread and water? Seriously?"
Spock set his tray down on the floor. There was nothing in the cell except a toilet, which was merely a large wooden pail, and a cot with a single sheet. His sleep suffered enough without getting crumbs in his bed.
He picked up the cup first. It was carved from wood, and appeared typical of the other instruments they had seen on the planet. He sniffed it. The liquid inside had no scent. He carefully dipped a finger into the cup. When he pulled it out, a drop of the colorless liquid dropped back into the cup. The liquid did seem to be water, and it didn't seem to have been tampered with.
"My water appears safe," said Spock.
Jim nodded towards his own water. "Yeah, mine's fine too. Are you gonna try the bread?"
Spock eyed the bread. It did not appear to have been tampered with, but it was old, judging by the slight tinge of green mold on the crust. They had only been in captivity for eighteen hours. He could survive fifteen more days without food easily, thirty if he conserved his energy. "I am not that hungry."
Jim smirked. "I know what you mean." He held his cup up in Spock's direction. "Bottoms up." He took a sip of the water, nodded, then drank the rest in a few long gulps.
Spock followed suit, testing the water with a small sip. It tasted like water. He drank it down slowly, savoring it. His body conserved water well, but eighteen hours was a long time for even a Vulcan to go without. He set the cup back on the tray, then moved it to the far corner of his cell. He hadn't seen any rat-like animals on the planet, but the society was so undeveloped that he doubted they had learned how to keep the creatures out of buildings yet.
Jim did the same thing with his tray. He took a seat on the edge of his cot nearest the hallway. "So, when we started this mission, did you think you'd get to experience life in an eighteenth century jail cell?"
"On Vulcan, jails such as this had been long eradicated by the eighteenth century."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Oh, you know what I mean. My world history textbook in eighth grade had a picture of an English jail that looked just like this one." He patted the bed. "Straw-filled mattress and all."
Spock nodded. "I have seen similar images. The rudimentary technology on this planet leads me to believe they are at a comparable level of technological and social development."
With a huff, Jim collapsed back on his bed. "It's so hot in here. Obviously they haven't invented climate control yet."
The room felt cool to Spock. He estimated the temperature to be 18.4 degrees Celsius. "Do you have a fever?"
Jim moaned. "No, I'm just so hot, all over." He stood up in a single, swift movement and stripped off his shirt. "It's still too hot." He toed off his shoes and then tugged his pants down to his ankles. When his hands went to the waistband of his underwear, Spock looked away. He caught a glimpse of the guard peering through the barred window before he disappeared from view.
He looked back at Jim a moment later when he let out a horrible whimpering sound. He was standing in the middle of his cell, pants and underwear around his ankles and a hand on his erect penis. Spock turned away. "Captain, clothe yourself. This is inappropriate."
"Spock..." Jim groaned. "I need you, Spock. I'm so hot..."
Spock could hear Jim's hand slap against his skin as he masturbated. He closed his eyes. Jim was a bold and lust-driven person, but this was not something he would do if he were in his right mind. "You have been drugged."
Jim's response was a wordless moan that sent shivers up Spock's spine—good shivers. Spock clenched his fists. There must have been something in the water. His own penis was hardening rapidly.
Spock clenched his hands tighter, his short nails digging painfully into his skin. He focused on his breathing. In, out. In, out.
Jim's cry startled him and he turned in time to see Jim's ejaculate splatter across the floor. Jim clung to the bars of his cell with one hand, the other hand still wrapped around his erect penis. Spock felt overheated. Jim stared at him with glazed eyes. His hand began to move, starting the stuttering pattern of wet slaps again.
Spock watched as the tip of Jim's penis appeared and disappeared into his palm. Every fifth or sixth stroke, Jim would pause to run his palm over the weeping tip and gather up some precum. Then he would return to the pattern, thumping his hand back and forth.
Spock's penis throbbed in his pants. Fully erect now, it begged to be touched. Spock restrained himself, clasping his hands behind his back so he could not use them. "Captain, you must stop this. Article 26-9, Section B states that commanding officers should never--"
Jim cried out, his grip on the bar tightening until his knuckles turned white. He ejaculated again, spraying his semen on his pants. His hand never stopped moving, and after a few moments of panting, he was back to moaning incoherently.
Turning away, Spock forced himself to focus on the toilet pail in the corner. He let the scent fill his nostrils. His erection flagged. He walked forward and stared at the pile of excrement some other prisoner had left behind. His arousal plummeted.
Spock’s mind wandered at the sound of harsh pants. If he touched Jim, would his skin be soft? How would his penis feel in Spock’s hand? It was average length, but it seemed thick…
Spock shoved those thoughts into a cage. Utter nonsense. He had never been with a man, and he never would. While he found males of most humanoid species appealing, he also desired women. More importantly, he was particularly attracted to Nyota, his sworn-one. They would be meeting a Vulcan healer in less than a week to have their preliminary bond put in place.
Then he would be able to make love to her. He focused his mind on the last time he had kissed her. Recently, she had requested that he make his touches more intimate. On this occasion, he had used his fingers to bring her to orgasm. He could nearly smell the wet heat of her arousal as he stimulated her through the thin underwear she wore.
“Oh, shit, Spock!”
Spock forcefully brought the memories of the evening to the forefront of his mind. Her pleasure had felt beautiful beneath his fingertips. He had wanted so much more though. He wanted to feel exactly what she felt.
His erection throbbed, and he allowed himself to unbuckle his pants and touch it through his briefs.
They had only just begun their romantic relationship when the Vulcan Tragedy occurred. In the year and a half since, their relationship had slowly progressed, but their positions on board the Enterprise had left them little time to deepen their relationship. Still, they had made time to be together, and Spock had asked her to be his sworn-one. They were intellectually and physically compatible, and he believed that marriage would benefit their relationship.
Uhura agreed to marry him, and over the past two months, their relationship had become intimate, though he had not yet copulated with her. She respected his culture’s tradition of not having intercourse until the first bond was in place, which he appreciated. Just as he appreciated the curve of her hips and the way her breasts fit perfectly in his hands…
What was Jim doing to elicit moans like that? Surely even drugged masturbation couldn’t feel that good.
Spock zipped his pants back up. He was so hard it hurt, but the only remedies available to him were time and repulsive thoughts.
From the moans, Spock believed Jim was close to climaxing again. The wet slaps had sped up, and the near constant moaning of his name grew more garbled every second. If Spock strained, he could hear the harsh pant of Jim’s breathing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would retain control over his body.
Spock turned toward the noise. A tall, well-dressed man entered the hall, followed by the guard.
The well-dressed man stopped in front of Spock’s cell. He blatantly took in Spock’s arousal. “I see the drug is affecting you.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jim, who was watching quietly, though his hand hadn’t stopped rubbing his cock. “Though, not as much as your friend there.”
“I told you they drank the water, Governor Telif,” the guard whispered, but Spock’s sharp ears caught it.
“What have you given us?” Spock demanded, thankful for the universal translator imbedded in his communicator. They hadn’t been searched well when they were arrested, and he had managed to keep it—though it was practically useless thanks to the natural mineral deposits on the planet that blocked its signal.
Governor Telif sneered. “I didn’t believe my guard when he said you drank the water. No one drinks it, not until they are desperate.”
Spock shook his head. “We thought the water was safe. We did not know you had a tasteless drug. We are from a remote town—”
Telif rattled the door. “Shut up! You’re spies of Potentate Nalen. What were you doing in the gorge? What does he want with it?”
The canyon had been on the outskirts of a small town. Their tricorders hadn’t picked up any lifesigns nearby, but they had picked up lots of polonium, which the Enterprise was dangerously low on. With no choice but to take it from the pre-warp community or end up without warp in enemy space, the choice had seemed obvious.
Until they were captured.
Spock considered the man carefully. “We are not affiliated with Potentate Nalen. We are visiting a relative in the city, and we went for a walk in the gorge.”
Telif’s eyes narrowed. “You are lying.” He glanced at the guard. “Move the other one.”
The guard unlocked Jim’s cell and opened the door. He grabbed Jim by the wrist and tugged him out. Jim protested weakly and flailed around, but the large man simply dragged him over to Spock’s cell.
Uncertain as to what was happening, Spock was shocked when the man unlocked his cell. Moving as quickly as he could, he leapt for the door as it opened, only to be knocked off his feet when Jim was thrust inside. Jim fell on top of him. The door slammed shut.
Jim began writhing on him. Telif shook his head. “Your friend must be extra sensitive to the drug. Usually it takes an hour to get to that point.” He shrugged. “It just means he’ll die in one day instead of two.”
Spock pushed Jim off and climbed to his feet. “What do you require for the antidote?”
“Tell us why you were in the gorge.” Telif pivoted towards the door. “Of course, there’s always the other option.” He grimaced.
“What is the other option?” Spock remained still as Jim stood and began to rut against him.
“Intercourse cures most people, due to the application of semen.” He shuddered. “May The God Above save you should you choose that path.” He nodded towards them. “I’ve no more time to waste on you. Call for my guard if you change your mind.”
And with that, the two men left.
Jim’s hot breath huffed across Spock’s ear. “Spock…” He humped Spock’s hip. “Fuck me. You gotta fuck me.”
Spock shook him off. He could not take part in this. While regulations did not forbid officers from engaging in intimate relations, they did strongly advise against it.
Jim grabbed him by the hand, enabling him to feel the burning arousal Jim was experiencing. Wrapping Spock’s hand around his dick, Jim began to pump his hips back and forth. His dick was velvety-soft, hard and hot. The dark red head looked painfully swollen with blood.
Spock felt the drug more than ever. His heart rate accelerated in his side, and he tightened his grip on Jim, who sighed and collapsed against him, resting his chin on Spock’s shoulder.
His name on Jim’s lips brought him back to reality. Spock couldn’t take part in this. He still had control of himself. Jim was his captain. They could not do this.
He yanked his hand away and retreated to his bed. He laid down so that his back was facing Jim and his front was pressed tight to the wall. It was the least accessible position in the cell. As he expected, Jim crawled onto the bed behind him and began grinding his cock against Spock’s backside.
Spock crossed his arms and tucked his hands into his armpits. They would surely be rescued within twenty-four hours. Until then, Jim could take his pleasure without Spock’s assistance. At least one of them would keep this professional.
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