Fanfiction: Training Session [2,502]
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Christopher Pike/Spock
Rating: PG-13/Rish
Prompt: Power issues, possible daddy themes; Pike knows how to keep his officers operating at their highest level of efficiency.
Notes: So this is closest I've ever gotten to managing to write porn. Un-betaed, but thank you very much to the helpful anons over at the st_xi_meme discussion post who helped and gave emotional support. It helped so very much.
When the bell rang, the cadets exited the room like their tails had been set on fire; only a few brave souls took their time, carefully collecting their materials instead of rushing out with them in a large pile. Pike took a mental note of them: a chubby red-haired boy with a stern set to his jaw, a pair of Trills that moved together like dancing partners, and a tall African woman who dared even speak to her distinguished professor. The Vulcan at the front of the classroom answered her questions in his quick, efficient manner, and when she left, she did so with a smile.
Most definitely keeping an eye on that one. To see someone with the balls to smile at the expressionless mask of Mr. Spock was quite a surprise. He shifted in his seat, returning this gaze to said professor. He seemed clueless of the fact that he terrified his students with his severe mannerisms and dangerous intelligence, or perhaps he simply did not care. Pike had come to realize that Spock was recklessly brave in that manner, his lack of fear translating into a complete negligence of social politics. One had to watch him carefully if they dared take him to a formal event, for he was likely to speak his mind exactly where it should not be heard. It was exactly why he was a professor and had not been picked up by any ship yet, though his skill as a science officer was unsurpassed in the entire Academy. He was a risk no one was willing to take.
The fact that the Vulcan was grounded bothered Pike greatly. He had a knack for seeing talent in others, in tracing the lines of fate they were not likely to choose for themselves, and the potential wasted in Spock was nearly painful to see. It was more than just his skill in a lab; Pike had watched the way that he handled his classroom, kept perfect order to the point that even the class clowns were unwilling to fire off a joke. Not only that, but they listened to him. Despite his monotonous tone, he had the sort of voice that made one stop and pay attention, what the words coming out of his mouth were. He would make someone a perfect Commander.
It would take one hell of a Captain to handle him, however. Not even his own sworn Captain would be safe from the sharp barbs that enclosed Spock’s opinion, not to mention that Pike had no doubt that if it came down to it, Spock would mutiny in favor of the logical choice. That quality, in a First Officer, was simply unacceptable. It was the lame leg that stopped the Vulcan from reaching his full potential.
Pike was always willing to take on a project. He stood up and walked towards the front of the room, where Spock was finishing shutting down the classroom’s computer. The Vulcan glanced up and promptly straightened, clasping his hands behind his back in his formal manner.
“Fine class as always, Mr. Spock,” Pike said, having noted as much on his review. Spock tilted his head in acknowledgement.
“Thank you, sir. Are there improvements you would suggest?” The Vulcan had jumped the gun on that one, used to the other officers railing at him for one thing or another. Pike would have considered it a flaw in Spock’s perfect reasoning, except that he realized that logically, he had no reason to expect Pike to be different. The man shook his head instead, focused less on the class and more on his own ideas.
“Not for your course, but I would put in a request that you would continue your own education.” He saw the line of Spock’s shoulders stiffen, the barest hint that he was likely to take offense at Pike’s next words.
“Was there a flaw in my information?” he asked, that irritatingly calm voice clashing with the indignant look in his eyes. Pike could not help but smile a bit, pleased that he managed to spot a spark of emotion in the Vulcan.
“Certainly not, Mr. Spock. I meant continuing your education in terms of making you more qualified for an officer position.” The rigidness did not fade from Spock’s body. Pike held up a hand to stop a protest. “My asking the question was merely being polite, Mr. Spock, forgive me. What I am saying is that you have a lesson with me, starting now.” The professor was trapped. He could only nod his head in acceptance.
“Of course, sir.” Now if only Pike could train him to say that to every situation. Perhaps, with a bit of work, he could. His mind whirled with thoughts of a curriculum for Spock’s new training course as he led him out, heading towards the simulation decks. It normally took a reservation to secure one, but Pike knew that no one would refuse him an empty deck. Spock followed with what to anyone else would have been considered obedience, but Pike had known the Vulcan too long; he knew that he had irritated him highly.
As expected, the clerk let him through without protest. He chose a small simulation, setting the computer to fill the empty posts, leaving open Captain and First Officer. He handed Spock the fake badge that announced his presence to the computer. “Commander,” was all the explanation he gave as he entered and sat down in the captain’s chair. The Vulcan took the badge and pinned it to his shirt without comment, moving to stand beside him.
“Computer, run situation 4.56A,” Pike announced. The mechanical voice verified, and the lights flickered once before the screen began to show a course. Within seconds the panel was sounding, noting three ships approaching from the edge of the view. “Sound the yellow alert. Those are Klingon ships.”
“We have no evidence of that, sir,” Spock replied, though he pressed the alert button obediently. Pike raised an eyebrow.
“I have reason to believe they are,” he replied dryly. Spock’s right eyebrow twitched.
“And what reason is that?” Here went nothing.
“You don’t need to know.” As he expected, that caused the Vulcan to pause, turning towards him.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“I said that you do not need to know my reasons,” he repeated carefully. Spock’s eyes darkened.
“As a Commander, I need to have knowledge of your logic, sir.”
“No you don’t.” The Vulcan seemed utterly confused by what he took as a completely illogical conclusion. Pike held up his hand to stop another protest. “I am Captain here, and I am privy to things that even you, as my First Officer, may not know. And it is your job to keep everything running smoothly at my order, not to question me.” He was impressed that Spock managed not to outwardly bristle. Pike turned back towards the screen, ignoring him for a moment. When the ships registered as Klingon, he shot the Vulcan a satisfied look Spock said nothing.
“Computer, as soon as the vessels are in range, fire.” This time, Spock could not keep his mouth closed.
“Captain! That is an act of war.”
“I realize that, Commander,” Pike replied evenly. “I will accept the consequences of our actions.”
“And I will not. This is completely against regulation.” The vessels were coming dangerously close to phaser range. “Computer! Hold fire.” By the time the computer verified, Pike was on his feet.
“And you have just committed an act of mutiny,” he growled, stepping just enough inside Spock’s personal space to see him stiffen further.
“I have upheld Federation Law and Starfleet Regulation, as well as possibly averted an incident that could spur the Federation and the Empire into all out war.” Pike moved forward again, and was gratified to see the Vulcan lean back on his heels, attempting to get further away from him without admitting discomfort by stepping back.
“How much do you really think that regulation holds that much sway out there, Spock?” He suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders, fingers digging tightly into the fabric-covered muscle. The touch did send the Vulcan backwards, but Pike stepped with him, pushing him back against a panel. “Yes, you should have respect for them. But sometimes they aren’t going to help you. Sometimes the rules are going to need to be broken. Your captain will need to break them, for the good of everyone.”
“Your actions are not for the good of everyone.” Spock shot back, voice barely even. There was anger lurking in his dark eyes; Pike had to trust that his self control was too good, his respect too great, to turn this into a physical encounter. No doubt the Vulcan could put him out of commission without breaking a sweat.
Suddenly the alarm lights went off, flashing the bridge in red. “Captain, the ship has just been hit. Shields at sixty percent,” the computer droned. Pike did not bother to step back as he cast his order.
“Maintain shields. Fire all phaser banks.” Spock watched the screen over Pike’s shoulder.
“You knew they were going to attack,” he announced.
“I did. They happen to be Klingon raiders, disaffiliated from the Empire. Thus, firing on them would never have been an act of war.”
“Why did you not inform me of this?” Spock asked, indignation in his eyes for the second time that day.
“Because I should not have to, Spock.” He hooked his fingers underneath the Vulcan’s chin, more for the show of dominance than to force him to look; Spock had too much pride to look away. “In a crisis situation, your captain is not going to be able to tell you all he knows or how he knows it. He may make plans that only have seconds to get from his brain to his mouth to reality. There is no time to stop and question him. If you do, those moments may cost lives.”
“It is the duty of the first officer to offer advice and guidance to the captain,” Spock answered, but there was a weakness to the words. Pike latched on to it.
“Yes, it is. When there is time. But a captain is a captain because when it comes down to the wire, he is the one that has to make a decision. You cannot make decisions for him. You have to trust him, more than you trust yourself, and follow his every order to the letter.”
“I am not certain I can do that,” Spock finally replied.
“Trust or follow orders?” There was a pause.
“Yes.” Pike released his chin, the hand on his shoulder sliding down his arm to his hand. Spock all but jumped.
“Sir-“
“I know. I have studied it.”
“Then-“
“You need to stop arguing with me. For the moment, I am your Captain, and you are going to have to trust me.” He waited a moment, but Spock stopped and watched him, like a wild animal unsure if it needed to bolt. He slid his fingers in between the Vulcan’s and was rewarded when he realized the very tips of his ears had begun to take on a darker shade.
“Sir, I do believe that you have gotten erroneous information and that this is highly inappropriate-“ Pike cut him off with a few whispered words against the inner curves of his ear.
“Sometimes, with difficult students, one must find unorthodox ways of teaching them.” He gave into the temptation to touch his lips to the tip, murmuring against the skin. “You’re trapped on the ground, Spock. You must change, or you will never get a chance to go further.”
“Perhaps I am pleased with my position,” Spock answered, voice dead calm. Pike bit the tender upward curve sharply.
“You would be lying if you claimed that, and we both know it. You’re too smart for that, too ambitious to stay down here with the old men who’ve already had their glory days. If you wanted to be a professor you would have stayed on Vulcan, turned that Science Academy upside down. But instead you’re here, not even teaching the sciences, but left teaching languages. You are being wasted here, by this entire fleet.” He pulled back to look him in the eye, squeezing their hands tight together again. Enough to get his attention, enough to make sure that he did not retreat inside of his own head.
“It’s because you don’t trust anyone, Spock. You don’t believe them when they insult you, and you don’t believe them when they compliment you. You don’t trust anyone but you and that handbook of logic in your brain. And that’s what we call subjective, isn’t it?”
“You believe I should trust you. Why?” It was really remarkable, the way he managed to keep impassive, even halfway bent over a console with the two of them nearly chest to chest. Pike sealed the gap, causing Spock to end up partially on the console, unable to keep his feet firmly on the floor.
“Because I want to see you up there. In your element, visiting planets no one’s seen, going on diplomatic missions, controlling an entire science department. I want you and that infernal Vulcan logic to be put to good use, see you with multiple stripes on your sleeve.” Pike slid his hands underneath Spock’s thighs and hefted, forcing him upwards until the Vulcan was fully sitting on the console and he could slide in between his legs. He relished the slight hitch in breath it caused, putting a strong hand in the small of his back and pulling them flush together.
“So trust me because you want it too, and I’ll work to make sure you get it.” Spock watched him with an unreadable gaze, but did not attempt to get away.
“Why is this important to you?” he asked, stubborn as always.
“I hate to see potential wasted.” Then Pike’s fingers found their way into Spock’s short hair and pulled him forward into a kiss. The Vulcan froze, but he did not relent, nipping at his bottom lip when he finally pulled away. “So trust me to do only good things for you.” It was a long moment before Spock answered that, the edges of his lips twitching downwards.
“You have given me a logical argument,” he finally stated.
“Meaning?”
“I will trust you until you give me evidence to disprove it.” Pike smiled, smoothing the hair he had ruffled back into its normal, perfect configuration.
“So you will allow me to continue lessons?” Spock considered the question with the graveness that he did everything, and then inclined his head slightly.
“Yes, I will.” Pike took a hold of his hands, this time both of them, and forced them above his head, pressing them to the cold steel of the wall, face sliding back into the serious expression he always used on the bridge.
“Then let me inform you as to what a ‘safe-word’ is, Commander.”
Characters/Pairing: Christopher Pike/Spock
Rating: PG-13/Rish
Prompt: Power issues, possible daddy themes; Pike knows how to keep his officers operating at their highest level of efficiency.
Notes: So this is closest I've ever gotten to managing to write porn. Un-betaed, but thank you very much to the helpful anons over at the st_xi_meme discussion post who helped and gave emotional support. It helped so very much.
When the bell rang, the cadets exited the room like their tails had been set on fire; only a few brave souls took their time, carefully collecting their materials instead of rushing out with them in a large pile. Pike took a mental note of them: a chubby red-haired boy with a stern set to his jaw, a pair of Trills that moved together like dancing partners, and a tall African woman who dared even speak to her distinguished professor. The Vulcan at the front of the classroom answered her questions in his quick, efficient manner, and when she left, she did so with a smile.
Most definitely keeping an eye on that one. To see someone with the balls to smile at the expressionless mask of Mr. Spock was quite a surprise. He shifted in his seat, returning this gaze to said professor. He seemed clueless of the fact that he terrified his students with his severe mannerisms and dangerous intelligence, or perhaps he simply did not care. Pike had come to realize that Spock was recklessly brave in that manner, his lack of fear translating into a complete negligence of social politics. One had to watch him carefully if they dared take him to a formal event, for he was likely to speak his mind exactly where it should not be heard. It was exactly why he was a professor and had not been picked up by any ship yet, though his skill as a science officer was unsurpassed in the entire Academy. He was a risk no one was willing to take.
The fact that the Vulcan was grounded bothered Pike greatly. He had a knack for seeing talent in others, in tracing the lines of fate they were not likely to choose for themselves, and the potential wasted in Spock was nearly painful to see. It was more than just his skill in a lab; Pike had watched the way that he handled his classroom, kept perfect order to the point that even the class clowns were unwilling to fire off a joke. Not only that, but they listened to him. Despite his monotonous tone, he had the sort of voice that made one stop and pay attention, what the words coming out of his mouth were. He would make someone a perfect Commander.
It would take one hell of a Captain to handle him, however. Not even his own sworn Captain would be safe from the sharp barbs that enclosed Spock’s opinion, not to mention that Pike had no doubt that if it came down to it, Spock would mutiny in favor of the logical choice. That quality, in a First Officer, was simply unacceptable. It was the lame leg that stopped the Vulcan from reaching his full potential.
Pike was always willing to take on a project. He stood up and walked towards the front of the room, where Spock was finishing shutting down the classroom’s computer. The Vulcan glanced up and promptly straightened, clasping his hands behind his back in his formal manner.
“Fine class as always, Mr. Spock,” Pike said, having noted as much on his review. Spock tilted his head in acknowledgement.
“Thank you, sir. Are there improvements you would suggest?” The Vulcan had jumped the gun on that one, used to the other officers railing at him for one thing or another. Pike would have considered it a flaw in Spock’s perfect reasoning, except that he realized that logically, he had no reason to expect Pike to be different. The man shook his head instead, focused less on the class and more on his own ideas.
“Not for your course, but I would put in a request that you would continue your own education.” He saw the line of Spock’s shoulders stiffen, the barest hint that he was likely to take offense at Pike’s next words.
“Was there a flaw in my information?” he asked, that irritatingly calm voice clashing with the indignant look in his eyes. Pike could not help but smile a bit, pleased that he managed to spot a spark of emotion in the Vulcan.
“Certainly not, Mr. Spock. I meant continuing your education in terms of making you more qualified for an officer position.” The rigidness did not fade from Spock’s body. Pike held up a hand to stop a protest. “My asking the question was merely being polite, Mr. Spock, forgive me. What I am saying is that you have a lesson with me, starting now.” The professor was trapped. He could only nod his head in acceptance.
“Of course, sir.” Now if only Pike could train him to say that to every situation. Perhaps, with a bit of work, he could. His mind whirled with thoughts of a curriculum for Spock’s new training course as he led him out, heading towards the simulation decks. It normally took a reservation to secure one, but Pike knew that no one would refuse him an empty deck. Spock followed with what to anyone else would have been considered obedience, but Pike had known the Vulcan too long; he knew that he had irritated him highly.
As expected, the clerk let him through without protest. He chose a small simulation, setting the computer to fill the empty posts, leaving open Captain and First Officer. He handed Spock the fake badge that announced his presence to the computer. “Commander,” was all the explanation he gave as he entered and sat down in the captain’s chair. The Vulcan took the badge and pinned it to his shirt without comment, moving to stand beside him.
“Computer, run situation 4.56A,” Pike announced. The mechanical voice verified, and the lights flickered once before the screen began to show a course. Within seconds the panel was sounding, noting three ships approaching from the edge of the view. “Sound the yellow alert. Those are Klingon ships.”
“We have no evidence of that, sir,” Spock replied, though he pressed the alert button obediently. Pike raised an eyebrow.
“I have reason to believe they are,” he replied dryly. Spock’s right eyebrow twitched.
“And what reason is that?” Here went nothing.
“You don’t need to know.” As he expected, that caused the Vulcan to pause, turning towards him.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“I said that you do not need to know my reasons,” he repeated carefully. Spock’s eyes darkened.
“As a Commander, I need to have knowledge of your logic, sir.”
“No you don’t.” The Vulcan seemed utterly confused by what he took as a completely illogical conclusion. Pike held up his hand to stop another protest. “I am Captain here, and I am privy to things that even you, as my First Officer, may not know. And it is your job to keep everything running smoothly at my order, not to question me.” He was impressed that Spock managed not to outwardly bristle. Pike turned back towards the screen, ignoring him for a moment. When the ships registered as Klingon, he shot the Vulcan a satisfied look Spock said nothing.
“Computer, as soon as the vessels are in range, fire.” This time, Spock could not keep his mouth closed.
“Captain! That is an act of war.”
“I realize that, Commander,” Pike replied evenly. “I will accept the consequences of our actions.”
“And I will not. This is completely against regulation.” The vessels were coming dangerously close to phaser range. “Computer! Hold fire.” By the time the computer verified, Pike was on his feet.
“And you have just committed an act of mutiny,” he growled, stepping just enough inside Spock’s personal space to see him stiffen further.
“I have upheld Federation Law and Starfleet Regulation, as well as possibly averted an incident that could spur the Federation and the Empire into all out war.” Pike moved forward again, and was gratified to see the Vulcan lean back on his heels, attempting to get further away from him without admitting discomfort by stepping back.
“How much do you really think that regulation holds that much sway out there, Spock?” He suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders, fingers digging tightly into the fabric-covered muscle. The touch did send the Vulcan backwards, but Pike stepped with him, pushing him back against a panel. “Yes, you should have respect for them. But sometimes they aren’t going to help you. Sometimes the rules are going to need to be broken. Your captain will need to break them, for the good of everyone.”
“Your actions are not for the good of everyone.” Spock shot back, voice barely even. There was anger lurking in his dark eyes; Pike had to trust that his self control was too good, his respect too great, to turn this into a physical encounter. No doubt the Vulcan could put him out of commission without breaking a sweat.
Suddenly the alarm lights went off, flashing the bridge in red. “Captain, the ship has just been hit. Shields at sixty percent,” the computer droned. Pike did not bother to step back as he cast his order.
“Maintain shields. Fire all phaser banks.” Spock watched the screen over Pike’s shoulder.
“You knew they were going to attack,” he announced.
“I did. They happen to be Klingon raiders, disaffiliated from the Empire. Thus, firing on them would never have been an act of war.”
“Why did you not inform me of this?” Spock asked, indignation in his eyes for the second time that day.
“Because I should not have to, Spock.” He hooked his fingers underneath the Vulcan’s chin, more for the show of dominance than to force him to look; Spock had too much pride to look away. “In a crisis situation, your captain is not going to be able to tell you all he knows or how he knows it. He may make plans that only have seconds to get from his brain to his mouth to reality. There is no time to stop and question him. If you do, those moments may cost lives.”
“It is the duty of the first officer to offer advice and guidance to the captain,” Spock answered, but there was a weakness to the words. Pike latched on to it.
“Yes, it is. When there is time. But a captain is a captain because when it comes down to the wire, he is the one that has to make a decision. You cannot make decisions for him. You have to trust him, more than you trust yourself, and follow his every order to the letter.”
“I am not certain I can do that,” Spock finally replied.
“Trust or follow orders?” There was a pause.
“Yes.” Pike released his chin, the hand on his shoulder sliding down his arm to his hand. Spock all but jumped.
“Sir-“
“I know. I have studied it.”
“Then-“
“You need to stop arguing with me. For the moment, I am your Captain, and you are going to have to trust me.” He waited a moment, but Spock stopped and watched him, like a wild animal unsure if it needed to bolt. He slid his fingers in between the Vulcan’s and was rewarded when he realized the very tips of his ears had begun to take on a darker shade.
“Sir, I do believe that you have gotten erroneous information and that this is highly inappropriate-“ Pike cut him off with a few whispered words against the inner curves of his ear.
“Sometimes, with difficult students, one must find unorthodox ways of teaching them.” He gave into the temptation to touch his lips to the tip, murmuring against the skin. “You’re trapped on the ground, Spock. You must change, or you will never get a chance to go further.”
“Perhaps I am pleased with my position,” Spock answered, voice dead calm. Pike bit the tender upward curve sharply.
“You would be lying if you claimed that, and we both know it. You’re too smart for that, too ambitious to stay down here with the old men who’ve already had their glory days. If you wanted to be a professor you would have stayed on Vulcan, turned that Science Academy upside down. But instead you’re here, not even teaching the sciences, but left teaching languages. You are being wasted here, by this entire fleet.” He pulled back to look him in the eye, squeezing their hands tight together again. Enough to get his attention, enough to make sure that he did not retreat inside of his own head.
“It’s because you don’t trust anyone, Spock. You don’t believe them when they insult you, and you don’t believe them when they compliment you. You don’t trust anyone but you and that handbook of logic in your brain. And that’s what we call subjective, isn’t it?”
“You believe I should trust you. Why?” It was really remarkable, the way he managed to keep impassive, even halfway bent over a console with the two of them nearly chest to chest. Pike sealed the gap, causing Spock to end up partially on the console, unable to keep his feet firmly on the floor.
“Because I want to see you up there. In your element, visiting planets no one’s seen, going on diplomatic missions, controlling an entire science department. I want you and that infernal Vulcan logic to be put to good use, see you with multiple stripes on your sleeve.” Pike slid his hands underneath Spock’s thighs and hefted, forcing him upwards until the Vulcan was fully sitting on the console and he could slide in between his legs. He relished the slight hitch in breath it caused, putting a strong hand in the small of his back and pulling them flush together.
“So trust me because you want it too, and I’ll work to make sure you get it.” Spock watched him with an unreadable gaze, but did not attempt to get away.
“Why is this important to you?” he asked, stubborn as always.
“I hate to see potential wasted.” Then Pike’s fingers found their way into Spock’s short hair and pulled him forward into a kiss. The Vulcan froze, but he did not relent, nipping at his bottom lip when he finally pulled away. “So trust me to do only good things for you.” It was a long moment before Spock answered that, the edges of his lips twitching downwards.
“You have given me a logical argument,” he finally stated.
“Meaning?”
“I will trust you until you give me evidence to disprove it.” Pike smiled, smoothing the hair he had ruffled back into its normal, perfect configuration.
“So you will allow me to continue lessons?” Spock considered the question with the graveness that he did everything, and then inclined his head slightly.
“Yes, I will.” Pike took a hold of his hands, this time both of them, and forced them above his head, pressing them to the cold steel of the wall, face sliding back into the serious expression he always used on the bridge.
“Then let me inform you as to what a ‘safe-word’ is, Commander.”