Toil and Trouble

by Farfalla
Originally printed in KmH. I would like to give my gratitude to Hypatia Kosh and to Misha for their help with this story, and to the editors of Kindle My Heart for their advice.
Note: this story contains explicit adult situations!

The tall, stately redheaded beauty rose to her feet and held out her hand. "Captain, are ye sure ye wouldnae like te stay a while longer?" She flickered her thick black eyelashes at him strategically. "Tha nigh' is young, ye ken."

"Aye? Anythin' interesting?" Her voice was a deliberate melody, crafted for effect. Her question gave her time to draw nearer to the captain.

"Actually, I was going to play chess with my first officer," Kirk answered, seemingly unmoved by her advances. "As a matter of fact, I'm late."

"Chess? Way Mr. Spock?" the Ambassador repeated. "But ye kin dae tha' any otha' nigh', Captain! Would ye no raetha' spend some time wi' a beautiful, willin' woman?"

"You're very lovely, Ambassador, but I really think I should leave," Kirk tried, but she had closed the distance between them and was tracing her fingers up and down the front of his shirt.

He moved his hand over her fingers and her eyes half-closed as she smiled in victory, but the smile vanished when he moved her hand away from his chest. "Please, madam. My interests lie... elsewhere." In fact, he was involved in an intimate relationship with his aforementioned first officer that was so new and unexplored that he still hesitated to speak of it aloud--and certainly not to a stranger.

"Elsewhere, ye sae?" Her hands went to her hips, and she cocked her head. "I ken whit ye mean, Captain, and I dinna mind sayin' that I'm nae best pleased bein' turned down. I thought they said ye were a ladies' man!"

"Well, 'they' don't always know the whole story," Kirk attempted, but she was still getting angrier.

"Look into my eyes, James Kirk, and *then* tell me ye'd prefer the company of some ghoulish lab-rat to mine," she insisted, grabbing his arm with such force that he had no choice.

Her eyes were green and deep and swirling... and as he stared into them, suddenly unable to move, she continued speaking in a low and eerie voice.

She placed a hand over his mouth to silence him. "Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time."

"I summon the magic of me foremothers, the witches of ancient Scotland," Ambassador MacClanahan intoned. "Ye hae spurned me tonigh', but ye will feel the call o' the pipes. Ye cannae resist the pipes, and whoever it be that play them your body will lust for! Ye cannae resist the player of the pipes. Ye crave...."

She was interrupted by a voice through the intercom. "Captain Kirk, this is Lieutenant Uhura. Did you just call for security?"

"Ye willna remember this conversation since ye stood!" the Ambassador hissed into Kirk's ear before waking him up with a snap of her fingers.

"I've enjoyed speaking with you tonight, Ambassador," said Kirk, wondering why he felt like he'd fallen asleep for a moment. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night!"

"Thank ye, Captain," said MacClanahan, standing in the doorway watching him leave. She wondered when her revenge would manifest itself. He could not hide; the hypnotism was infallible. Eventually the pride of her native Scotland would be avenged, and he would be forced to turn from his know-it-all, pedantic Vulcan to someone with the adventurous spirit of the highlands.

The crew's annual holiday party was to be held in four days, and Scotty had suggested that they might like to be entertained with a medley of traditional Celtic yuletide melodies. Kirk liked the idea, especially when other crew members volunteered to perform on their native instruments as well. He was now on his way to hear Scotty play through the tunes because he was curious and also wanted to make sure they were, in fact, holiday-appropriate. The reason for the strange location was that out here on the observation deck the loud bray of the pipes wouldn't disturb anyone working or sleeping nearby.

"Hello, Cap'n!" called Scotty with a friendly wave. He was standing by the windows with his bagpipes slung over one shoulder. He stepped closer to Kirk, the bellows wheezing slightly. "Mr. Spock on the bridge?"

"No, Sulu has the conn. Spock is tutoring Ensign Liu. She got it into her head to learn Vulcan, and he's been helping her practice every couple of nights."

"Ah," said Scotty, nodding. "Logical, as he would say. I don't envy the lassie--Vulcan's a hard tongue to handle."

Kirk's body temperature rose slightly as his mind illustrated the double meanings of Scotty's innocent words.

"So, d'ye have any special requests?" Scotty waggled his eyebrows and lifted the mouthpiece to his lips.

"Oh, I don't really know that much about bagpipe music," said Kirk. "Play whatever you like the best, and I'm sure your enthusiasm will make me like it."

"All right, Cap'n, then it's the Blue Bells of Scotland." The rich bleat of the Gaelic drone filled the room, and then the tune began.

The change in Captain Kirk was instantaneous and startling. He rushed toward Scotty, both arms outstretched and a goofy grin plastered across his face. "Scotty!!"

“What the devil?” The mouthpiece slipped from Scott’s mouth as he backed away. Unfortunately, a wall blocked his retreat, and Kirk had him pinned against it in two more steps. It was all Scotty could do to push the bagpipes out of harm’s way.

Scotty turned his head sideways to avoid the hot breath pouring into his face from Kirk's panting. "Cap'n! Please!" he begged. "No offense meant, but I don't like ye like that." Confused, he scanned Kirk for signs of fever--or alcohol breath--but found neither. Then he slipped sideways, doubled back behind Kirk, and scuttled out of the room as fast as he could.

Scott ran down the hallway, clutching his bagpipes as tightly as he could to prevent injury to his precious instrument. It was slowing him down considerably. He glanced over his shoulder to see Captain Kirk in hot pursuit. "Ach, what's gotten into him?" he muttered to himself as he ducked into the first open doorway and locked it shut.

Spock looked up from the rec room table where he was seated with a young and bright-eyed Asian woman in command gold. "Mr. Scott? Is everything all right?"

"Oh, Mr. Spock, I couldna say what's gotten into him. Don't let anyone through that door!" His brogue seemed to get thicker with his excitement. Panting heavily, he took the bagpipes off his person and placed them reverentially on the free area of the table. "It'll be all right," he quietly told the pipes, patting them.

"Did someone attack you, Mr. Scott?" Spock was alarmed, even through his impenetrable layer of Vulcan calm.

"Ach, ye can definitely say that," Scott blustered as he deposited his rear in an empty chair. "I could have sworn he'd gone mad!"

"Who?" Spock demanded. His pupil was silent, but her eyes darted around the room in fear.

Scott opened his mouth to speak again, but a voice from the other side of the door interrupted him. "Let me in! This is the captain!"

Peering curiously at Scotty, Spock stood up and unlocked the door. When it slid open, Kirk dashed inside and hurled himself at Scotty's feet. "Don't run from me, I can't bear it!" he gasped.

"I told ye not to let him in!" Scotty yelled at Spock, who had frozen completely. The Vulcan's face was a mask.

"You neglected to specify from whom you were escaping," Spock hissed icily. "In the future, I suggest you be more clear in your warnings."

"I don't understand what happened, One minute I was just playin' me pipes, and the next--this!" Scotty cried plaintively. "I don't want to hurt his feelin's, but... I don't fancy men! Not a wee bit! Can't ye do anything, Spock? You're his best friend."

Spock's face did not betray how paltry those words were to describe his relationship with Jim. "I will remove him from the room," was all he said. Since Kirk was obviously distracted by the engineer's Gaelic beauty, it was no trouble at all for a hand to sneak onto a shoulder and grip it firmly.

Kirk slumped over, and Spock caught him before he hit the ground, with a tenderness that almost betrayed his true feelings--if anybody had been paying attention. "I will see to him," said Spock, slinging the captain into his arms like a sleeping baby. Vulcan strength was legendary. Ensign Liu was impressed.

"Thank ye, Mr. Spock." Scotty shook his head. "I canna explain it... please let me know how he's doing, when he comes around."

"I will," Spock agreed. Then, after apologizing to Ensign Liu for the fact that they would have to continue their Vulcan language lessons the next night, he vacated the rec room.

He studied Kirk's face for a moment and reviewed the captain's earlier behavior in his mind. The out-of-control advances toward Mr. Scott were highly deviant from Jim's characteristically considerate and careful personality, and in addition, Spock knew--KNEW!--that Jim's heart belonged to him. This recent fascination with Mr. Scott could not possibly be a natural event.

Spock feared that asking the captain the reason for his altered behavior would be fruitless while he was conscious. He was clearly in a temporary state of total irrationality and might even try to escape the room, and of course, there was also the chance that he would not be able to explain the phenomenon.

Spock raised his hand to Jim's temple. It shook slightly as his fingers fell upon the sweating skin--yes, he was nervous. He was about to enter the mind of his beloved without Jim having consented to the encounter. However, he considered this a medical emergency, and he knew his duty was to keep Jim safe from any possible malady--and that Jim would want him to take action to diagnose his problem. Besides, Jim always enjoyed their melds. When he was conscious, that is...

Jim's mind accepted him easily, but did not acknowledge his presence once he was inside. Spock immediately knew something was wrong. Images of piercing green eyes, glaring at him, laughing at him from under thickly made-up eyelashes, penetrated through the veils over Jim's psyche. For a moment, the laughter actually became audible, and he instantly recognized the voice of Ambassador Ainsley MacClanahan. Had she visited this harm upon his Jim? For what purpose?

He didn't have to wait long for his answer. The words of her hypnotism droned on and on in Jim's mind, imploring him, bewitching him to seek out the player of the pipes, convincing him that this was where his desires would lead him. Jim's real feelings were bound up in a tartan of treachery, preventing his mind's escape.

Spock gritted his teeth in anger at the woman who had done this to them and began considering how to undo her damage. He could not remove the hypnotism with Jim unconscious; for that, he would need the help of Jim's waking mind. Together, they could free him of the embarrassing spell. But once Jim was awake, he would not be himself. He would try to escape from Spock, perhaps to attack Mr. Scott once more. In this action, he might be seen by more of the crew than just one ensign, and his competence as captain would be questioned.

MacClanahan's words played over and over again in Jim's imprisoned mind. "Ye cannae resist the player o' the pipes...."

An idea began to form in Spock's mind. He gathered Jim once again into his arms, and carried him out of the rec room.

Why was he here? He furrowed his brow and struggled to sit up, his limbs still slightly numb from the aftereffects of the neck-pinch. Vague memories of chasing Mr. Scott through the corridors plagued his mind, but he couldn't give them meaning.

He peered around the modestly-decorated room, which looked empty, except for the usual abstract sculptures, heavy draperies on the walls, and--

The euphonious tone of the chapel's pipe-organ sang out at him from across the front of the room. Notes fell upon notes and blended in glorious harmony as the foot-pedals drew bass pitches from beneath. They reached for Kirk with fingers of multiphonic beauty, pulling him closer with each second. He knew the piece: Toccata and Fugue.

He leapt from the pew and dashed to the organ console, desperate to know what angel, what god was behind this concordant bliss.

"Jim, you have awakened," Spock replied calmly when he noticed the captain approaching. "Do you like Bach?"

"Spock!" gasped Jim, hurling himself onto Spock's lap. The music ceased as Spock quickly distanced himself from the intricate keyboards, but its echo hung richly in the air as Jim smothered him with kisses. "Oh, Spock, I need you. I need you more than I've ever needed any living soul."

"Jim, you must hear me," Spock managed to say between the moments when his mouth was otherwise occupied. "You are under hypnosis. I must remove its effect with a meld, and require your help in which to do so."

"Yes," Jim gasped. "Meld us. Join my mind to yours, my body as well. I want to be inside of your body while you're inside my mind."

"Yes." The word dropped from Spock's mouth like a falling leaf. He would give everything to this man. But, of course, he must also be returned to his rational self.

Jim's hands were all over his torso, under his shirt, removing his uniform tunic. "Spock..." Jim's fingers rubbed at his nipples, and they tensed, forming goosebumps across most of Spock's body.

Spock caressed Jim's face, and opened his mouth to accept another kiss. Jim's tongue pierced Spock's lips, eliciting shivers from them both. More clothing was removed and abandoned on the floor.

Luckily, Spock had anticipated this reaction and had locked the doors of the chapel to his voice-command. Their privacy was as sure as if they were in one of their cabins. They pulled each other down onto the padded organist's bench in a mad frenzy of fondling hands.

Spock's planning--perhaps a bit wickedly optimistic!--hadn't ended with the locked door. "Before you divest me of my pants, Jim," he murmured, "remove the tube from my right pocket." Jim had it out and open within seconds. Spock finished taking off his own pants and underthings, and then was rendered absolutely helpless as Jim's warm, wet mouth enveloped his erection. Oh, Jim!

Jim coaxed pleasured moans from his ardent Vulcan for some time longer, then used one hand to squeeze the contents of the tube where Spock needed it. He wiped another handful of it across his own throbbing penis before straddling Spock on the organist's bench. Spock lifted his legs and wrapped them around Jim's back, locking them together as Jim moved in for entry.

Nibbling Spock's chin and sensitive neck with voracious lips, Jim nudged his way inside. Spock's body accepted him, reached for him, welcomed his firm presence. He pulled out slightly and pushed in again, his arousal heightened by Spock's beautiful heavy breathing.

Spock's fingers settled on the meld-points on Jim's face, and he closed his eyes. "My mind to your mind."

//Can you free me? My love for you is real, but I feel so ashamed at not being able to control myself.//

//It is not a shame you alone suffer,// Spock reminded him. //Now you know what it is to burn, handsome human.//

//I'm so sorry you had to see me running after Scotty like that--and how will I ever live it down?//

Together, within their joined mind, they struggled to free Jim's psyche from the ambassador's curse. One thread at a time, they lifted it aside, letting another tendril of Jim's being unfurl freely. Finally he took a deep breath, and they both knew he was cured.

They drifted out of the meld and gazed into each other's eyes, Jim still deep within. "Thanks," he said.

"Welcome back," was Spock's reply. "Please continue your penetration. You tease my arousal with your extended pause."

"Sorry, is this better?" Jim bucked his hips in long, thorough motions, causing Spock to writhe and groan in delirious passion. Holding each other, they climaxed together.

After they broke the very long kiss that concluded their lovemaking, they began to help each other dress. "Don't tell Scotty, but I'd really have to say, Spock, that I... think I prefer the organ to the bagpipes," Jim quipped, winking in the direction of Spock's pelvis.

"I am certain Mr. Scott will be quite relieved to learn of your stated preference," Spock countered.

"I do love Bach," Kirk added, "and you do him justice. I didn't even know you played the organ."

"Yet another hobby I explored while studying on Earth," said Spock. "Jim, might I ask what song Mr. Scott was performing when your aberrant behavior began?"

"I don't remember. I'm just glad to be free of this hypnosis." Kirk wiped a night's worth of gathered sweat from his face. "I was getting pretty tired of the Blue Balls of Scotland!"

Toil and Trouble

by FarfallaOriginally printed in KmH. I would like to give my gratitude to Hypatia Kosh and to Misha for their help with this story, and to the editors of Kindle My Heart for their advice.Note: this story contains explicit adult situations!

by Farfalla
Originally printed in KmH. I would like to give my gratitude to Hypatia Kosh and to Misha for their help with this story, and to the editors of Kindle My Heart for their advice.
Note: this story contains explicit adult situations!