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Behind His Eyes

Title: Behind His Eyes
Author: Sara Ellison
Fandom: Star Trek (2009)
Pairings: Nero/Mandana, Spock Prime/Nero, Ayel/Nero, Nero/Spock Prime/Ayel, hints of Kirk Prime/Spock Prime if you look really hard, light Kirk/Spock Prime
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Star Trek (2009)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Star Trek was created by Gene Roddenberry and belongs to Paramount. Please don't sue me.
Warnings: Trigger-y. Rape, violence, angst.
Summary: Nero has a unique perspective on what happened and how to deal with it.
Author's notes: 25 years is a long time. This isn't the first time Nero's given in to Ayel, but it's the first time Ayel said the L word. I got Mandana's name from the Countdown comics, and Nero's inverted "real" name from the novelization, and the bit about Rura Penthe and the not-speaking from parts of the movie script that didn't make the final draft.

"You'll come back in time, won't you?"

Oren smiled up at his wife. She was more beautiful than ever, he thought, the way the sunlight glittered in her hair echoing the glow of joy on her face. "In time for the birth of our child? I wouldn't miss it for all the decalithium in the galaxy, my love." He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.

Mandana sank down on the bed beside him, graceful despite her pregnancy. Oren gently laid a hand on her swollen belly, chuckling when he felt the child kick. "She's a fierce one," he said.

"Or he," Mandana added.

He shook his head. "With that kind of strength, she must take after her mother. Wait and see. We will have a beautiful daughter."

"You just make sure to be here when she arrives, Oren," his wife told him sternly. She waggled her finger at him as though admonishing an errant child. Oren caught it and kissed it, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"The moment you go into labor, I'll come back here at warp eleven," he assured her, kissing her palm. "Even if the Narada's cargo holds are empty. Nothing will keep me from the two most important women in my life."

She leaned forward, then, and kissed him. "Warp eleven, huh?" she murmured against his lips, and he smiled into her mouth as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

"At least eleven," he confirmed, bending his head to kiss her neck. She laughed softly and pushed him down on the bed, moving to straddle him as she slipped her hands under his tunic. Oren had decided months ago that he loved when his wife was pregnant; while her swollen belly proved a minor obstacle, her passion for him had not dimmed in the slightest, and Oren had learned to be rather creative in satisfying her. He helped divest her of her gown before pulling her back down for another kiss, his fingers tracing over the point of her ear, making her tremble.

The door to their bedroom flew open with a bang. Oren looked up, angry, to see a gray-haired Vulcan standing in the doorway, his face creased by age. His features were blank, his eyes cold as he quietly raised a disruptor and shot Mandana in the heart. She screamed in agony, her hands flying instinctively to her belly as though she could protect her child, before the disruptor's chain reaction reduced her to free-floating photons.

The sound that tore from Oren's throat was wild, like the howl of a beast as he ran at Spock, his hands outstretched to tear the other man's face. The Vulcan was too quick for him, though, and he found himself thrown face-first to the floor. Oren felt his nose break against the hard surface. Flashes of light burst behind his eyelids, and his ears rang sharply. He struggled to get back on his feet, to no avail. Spock's hand descended upon the back of his neck, gripping like a vise as he lifted the Romulan and threw him at the bed as though he were a ragdoll. He landed on his belly, the wind knocked from his lungs, and barely had time to spit out the blood that flowed down his face from his nose before the Vulcan was upon him again, pinning him down with one hand between Oren's shoulderblades. The other hand tore at his pants.

"No," Oren moaned, struggling futily as the thick cloth tore under Spock's fingers, exposing Oren's backside. Some part of his brain, impossibly calm, told him that the bedclothes ought to smell of Mandana. He breathed deeply, burying his face in the mattress, but all he could smell was his own blood. The Vulcan's horrid, aged hand was clawing at him, spreading him open, and Oren shut his eyes against the stinging tears that he could not stop if he wanted to. Then Spock shoved into him, and it burned, charring his flesh, burned like the fire in Mandana's eyes, burned like a star going supernova and obliterating the Romulan Empire. Oren heard laughter, then, all around him, raucous, jeering Klingon laughter, and he knew he was on Rura Penthe. The guards stood around him and Spock in a circle, waiting to beat him with painsticks if he ever showed a sign of not being in enough pain. Their laughter echoed in his skull, too loud, growing steadily into a roar that threatened to drown Oren in its power, and he opened his mouth, desperate to hear any sound other than that awful Klingon laughter and the slap of Spock's skin against his, and he screamed with every ounce of strength he had.

"Captain Nero?"

That name. He'd barked it that day at Ayel as his second-in-command came forward to greet him. They were going to see the Vulcans, he'd justified it then. They and the humans couldn't properly pronounce Oren, not without a proper Romulan background, so they must invert his name. He was Nero now, he told Ayel. Inform the crew. And he'd ignored the nagging in the back of his mind, telling him he'd never hear his name on his beautiful wife's lips again, so he would never hear it at all.

"Captain Nero?"

He rolls over, averting his face from the voice. Soon, he knows, the Klingon guards will descend upon him, rousing him with blows from their dreaded painsticks to encourage his punctuality. There's ore to be mined, and who's going to do it if not Nero? He almost laughs at the bitter irony. He tugs the blanket over his head, and something clicks.

The prisoners hadn't had blankets on Rura Penthe. They'd slept on straw pallets, crammed together like tinned vredna-fish. Nero spreads his fingers, eyes still closed, and runs his hand over the sheet under him. It is smooth, soft cloth. He shifts his weight slightly. There isn't a lump to be found in the mattress under his body. Nero lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The Narada. The hum of her engines vibrates through the deck, comfortingly, and below that, the whisper of nanoprobes hard at work, repairing and improving his ship beyond recognition.

Closer than that soft whisper, though, is the quiet breathing of somebody very nearby. More fully awake now, Nero can tell with his eyes still closed that Ayel has taken a hesitant step closer, then another. He feels the dip in the mattress as Ayel sits on the edge, tentatively, and lays a gentle hand on Nero's shoulder.

"Captain Nero." His voice is a whisper now. He knows Nero is awake, and Nero opens his eyes slowly. He looks up at Ayel, silently, and is startled to see the depth of concern in his first officer's dark eyes. It makes him uncomfortable, so he looks away.

"It's today," Ayel says. Sharply, Nero looks back at him. "Presuming our calculations are correct, today we will finally see vengeance."

Nero opens his mouth to speak for the first time in twenty-five years. His lips are unused to forming words, and he has to lick them a few times before they will function as he wished. Then he stops, because he isn't sure what to say, finally, to break his long silence, and because Ayel is still looking at him and Nero doesn't know what to do when Ayel moves his hand to Nero's face and gently rubs away tear-tracks from his cheeks, marks that Nero hadn't known were there.

"Today, you may put those dreams to rest," Ayel murmurs, and his hand is still on Nero's face, trembling as his fingers stroke his captain's brow. Nero closes his eyes and leans into the caress, because Ayel deserves that much at least for so many years of loyal service and unwavering devotion. And when he feels Ayel's mouth against his jaw, he allows that as well. Ayel kisses lower, moving down Nero's neck, biting gently at his collarbone, and Nero opens his eyes then and stops him with a hand on his chin, and Ayel stares into his eyes and whispers, "Please," and Nero pulls him down and kisses him, roughly, their tongues clashing together, biting at Ayel's lips, and Ayel lets out a moan that goes straight to Nero's groin.

Abruptly, Nero flips them both over, pinning Ayel to the mattress by his shoulders. He lowers his head to suck on the other man's throat as he aligns their hips, rocking to create friction between them, grinding his cock against Ayel's through the fabric of his clothing. It isn't enough, and a low growl escapes his throat as he draws back and yanks at Ayel's tunic. Ayel squirms beneath him, briefly, and then that barrier is removed, the clothing discarded on the deck, and Ayel bucks up against Nero, panting, and the heat of his skin against Nero's is like flame.

Nero presses a hand to the middle of Ayel's chest, and he stills, but his eyes are pleading, desperate. Nero takes Ayel's hand in his and brings it to his mouth, licking Ayel's fingers. He allows himself a smirk at the way Ayel's eyelids flutter at that, and sucks the fingers into his mouth. Ayel moans aloud, thrusting his hips upward, which prompts Nero to suck harder.

Nero moves back, kneeling between Ayel's thighs. Denied friction, Ayel reaches for his dick with his free hand, but Nero seizes his wrist, pressing it down to the bed. At the same time, he lets go of the hand he was suckling. Ayel's eyes are locked with his as he pushes one spit-slicked finger into himself. Nero watches Ayel's face, one hand slowly stroking himself as he watches the way Ayel's breath hitches as he adds a second finger, scissoring them, stretching himself open. With the third finger, he curses under his breath and his back arches. His other hand fists in Nero's sheets and Nero can tell he's desperate to touch his dick, leaking precome down its length, but Ayel's trained obedience to his captain overrides his instinct.

"Please," Ayel begs again, biting his lip as he withdraws his fingers, and Nero nods as he settles between Ayel's legs. The spit and precome isn't nearly enough, but he pushes in anyway. Ayel is tight and hot around him, and as Nero presses inexorably deeper Ayel groans, his head thrown back. It is rough, the too-dry friction sending sparks up his spine, and he tries to move slowly but Ayel wraps his legs around Nero's waist and pulls him in, sweat beading on his face. "Fuck," he breathes, and "Yes," and Nero doesn't say Yes, Ayel, that's the idea as he pulls out and slams back in, and to his astonishment Ayel screams and shudders and spurts hot and sticky between them.

"Ayel," Nero murmurs, his voice gravelly with disuse. Ayel lifts his hand and traces the planes of Nero's face with shaking fingers. Nero bites his lip, closes his eyes, and thrusts again, making Ayel gasp. He sits up, pulling Ayel's hips with him, rocking his pelvis as he finds his rhythm. Ayel has hardly caught his breath, but his hand goes to his cock, already stiffening again as Nero fucks him. With his other hand, Ayel reaches out to touch Nero, stroking his chest and running his fingers through the come cooling on his belly. The touch is feather-light, in stark contrast to the force with which Nero slams into Ayel, his fingers digging into the other man's thighs hard enough to bruise. The tight heat seems to spread through his body, ever inwards until he feels the tension behind his eyes. Ayel clenches around him and he stiffens, squeezing his eyes shut as he cries out wordlessly, and comes hard. Gasping, he rides the aftershocks until he's pumped every last drop into Ayel, then withdraws and collapses beside him on the bed.

Ayel moans as Nero's hot breath hits his ear, furiously fucking his fist. Nero watches as he grips his balls in one hand, smearing precome over his shaft with the other. Ayel's breath is coming fast, and he pants, barely audible, "I love you," and comes again, splashing across his own chest. And Nero laughs, because he knows that Ayel usually knows better than to tell his captain information that he already knows.


"We have him, Captain!" the lieutenant announced, triumph clear in his voice. "Bringing the ship aboard now, sir!"

Nero had turned and swept out of the bridge before the man had finished speaking. He'd waited long enough. His footsteps echoed in the Narada's empty spaces as he strode purposefully towards the cargo bay. He felt rather than saw Ayel fall into step beside him, his first officer's boots ringing against the metal of the catwalk in unison with his own. He could not shake the sense that caused the back of his neck to tingle, a feeling of inevitability.

The Jellyfish crouched in the hold like a scared animal. Sercurity officers were arrayed around her boarding ramp, armed with disruptor rifles; they snapped to attention as one and saluted upon Nero's arrival. He nodded at them and signaled, and the officer nearest the Federation ship stepped forward and slapped the docking release. Her boarding ramp folded down, spilling bright light into the dimly-lit hold. At the top of the ramp, a hooded figure waited solemnly.

Nero stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, letting the rectangle of light frame him. The Jellyfish's occupant likewise moved forward, and two dozen disruptor rifles snapped up to aim at the Vulcan's heart. Nero waved them away, a humorless smile curling his lips, and the security teams lowered their weapons again. Letting his gaze drift over their faces, Nero was satisfied to see the utter hatred in the eyes of each officer. Still, these were his trusted crew; as much as they might wish to, they would not execute the Vulcan until their captain ordered it. Unobstructed, their guest reached the bottom of the boarding ramp, and stopped. He slowly lifted his hands and pulled back his hood.

The face under that hood was what Nero had expected to see. He hadn't expected the white-hot rage that followed, obscuring his vision, roaring in his ears. His hands were curled into fists of their own volition, his jaw clenched so tightly that his skull ached. He didn't hear what Spock said as the old Vulcan sank to his knees, his apologetic, concillatory words falling on deaf ears. It took all of Nero's self-control not to attack Spock with his bare hands, to claw at his face and gouge out those dark eyes that weren't nearly as cold as they should have been.

It was Ayel's quiet snarl, behind him, that spurred Nero to action. "Leave us," he barked at the security teams. They saluted again, many of them looking resentful, though none argued or disobeyed. They'd wanted to see Spock punished, he knew. They would have to wait.

His breath echoed in the nearly empty bay. Ayel stood stock-still behind him. He hadn't left with the others, and Nero hadn't expected him to. Spock still knelt on the filthy metal deck, his shoulders slumped, head bowed. Some part of Nero wondered why. Surely Spock wasn't truly contrite; regret was an emotion the old Vulcan could not deign to feel. Was he scared? That, too, was unlikely.

He should be scared, Nero thought, and he took a step and kicked out, hard. His foot connected solidly with Spock's ribs and the old Vulcan fell back, his hand clutching his side, but gave no other reaction. Nero kicked him again, in the stomach this time, knocking Spock's breath from his lungs.

"I'm sorry," Spock gasped. "Nero. I am sorry."

"You're sorry," Nero repeated, disbelieving. He bent down and grabbed the front of Spock's robes, lifting him bodily, and slammed him against the hull of his hideous Federation ship. He knew the old Vulcan was strong and could have fought back, but he put up no resistance. "You're sorry?!" Holding Spock up with one hand, he drew back the other and punched him in the face. It hurt his hand, but it felt so satisfying. "Everybody, every innocent man and woman on this ship, lost everything they had." His voice started as a low growl and rose until he found himself screaming in the Vulcan ambassador's face. "Everything, Spock! Our homes, our families, our friends, our ways of life! My wife and my unborn child, Spock, you murdered them!"

"Nero, my friend, I--" Spock began, but Nero howled with rage and slammed him against the ship again.

"Friend? I put the fate of Romulus in your hands, friend, and you let my world die!" He brought up his knee, hard, into the Vulcan's groin, and threw him to the deck. Spock made no effort to get up again, merely lay there, his face ashen. "Every Romulan on this ship trusted you, Spock," Nero hissed at him. He grabbed Spock again, hit him again, and Spock groaned.

A movement behind Spock caught Nero's attention, and he looked up sharply to see Ayel staring back at him. The fire in his eyes was like nothing Nero had seen before, and he realized with growing amazement that Ayel was actually smiling. There was no pleasure in his expression, just a ruthless satisfaction at seeing Spock beaten. No, Nero realized, at seeing me beat Spock. He felt his own mouth curve involuntarily, mirroring Ayel, and bent to grab a fistful of Spock's gray hair. He tugged, and the Vulcan obediently sat up, wincing visibly in pain. Nero dragged at his hair, pulling him up further until Spock was on his knees, and pushed his groin against Spock's face.

Spock's breath came in pained gasps, and Nero rocked against his face. He wasn't hard yet, but Ayel was, he saw. He watched Ayel stroke himself through his clothing and felt his own cock twitch in response. He hissed under his breath as Ayel slipped his hand under his waistband, and unfastened his own pants, freeing his growing erection and pushing it past the Vulcan's slack lips. He thrust into Spock's mouth, and Spock's hands came up to grip Nero's hips as he sucked him deeper. It was Spock's tongue dragging against the vein that ran along the underside of his cock that made Nero cry out in surprise and pleasure, and he allowed Spock to pull back slightly to lap at the head before once more wrapping his lips around him. Whatever else he might say about Spock, the Vulcan knew how to suck cock. Nero's hips bucked involuntarily as Spock took him all the way down his throat again.

No. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Spock was supposed to be humiliated. Instead, he had taken control. Nero yanked on Spock's hair, hard. "Stop!" he barked, and when the Vulcan didn't obey, Nero grabbed Spock's ear and twisted, hard. Spock released him then to scream and clap his hand to his ear, already swelling and flushed green. "Better," Nero growled, and slapped him across the face before shoving his cock back into Spock's mouth. He was satisfied to see tears of anger or pain welling up in Spock's eyes as he continued, defiantly, to suck him off. He knew that Spock's loss of control hurt the Vulcan far more than Nero's own slip hurt him.

Ayel moved behind Spock, still watching Nero. He shoved his pants out of the way as he dropped to his knees, and tore Spock's trousers open. A shiver ran down Nero's spine, and he thrust harder into Spock's mouth as Ayel positioned himself behind Spock, gripped the Vulcan's hips, and shoved inside with no preparation. Spock's cry was muffled by Nero's dick down his throat, but Nero had no doubt as to how much pain he was in. Ayel laughed at him, fucking him hard and fast. The tears were running down Spock's face, now, the droplets cool against Nero's cock. He hissed in pleasure. "That's it," he snarled. "Weep, Spock, for all the Romulans you killed." He held Spock's head still and thrust into his mouth, fucking his face.

Ayel increased his pace, and Nero could tell he was close. His eyes met Nero's again, and Nero saw something akin to unbridled lust for him, for Nero, in his first officer's eyes, and then Ayel threw back his head and shouted as he came. Nero watched his face, and when Ayel looked back at Nero and licked his lips, just so, Nero felt his own orgasm overtake him. He felt Spock try to swallow around him, but he pulled back and let his seed splash over the Vulcan's tear-streaked face.

When he let go of Spock's hair, the old Vulcan collapsed on the deck. Nero ignored him and reached out a hand to help Ayel to his feet. "Thank you," he murmured.

"For what, Captain?" Ayel stood, and did not release Nero's hand.

"For helping me put my dreams to rest."

They both fastened their pants, then, and left Spock there, lying on the cold, disgusting deck, bleeding and bruised with his torn clothes in disarray. His breathing was harsh and loud in his own ears, and beneath that he thought he heard the murmur of the Narada, mercilessly mocking him. His voice was barely audible as he whispered again to no one, "I'm sorry."


Jim yanks himself away from the outstretched hand of the old Vulcan who calls himself Spock. Dizzy, he staggers away, deeper into the ice cave, and falls to his knees. His stomach heaves and he vomits, his insides feeling like unraveling knots. The fluid freezes in the frigid air almost as soon as it leaves his body. Shaking, he spits foul saliva on the ground, trying to clear the taste from his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

"Dammit, stop saying that!" Jim answers angrily. Regaining some modicum of control, he stands, and gratefully accepts the insulated water canteen Spock hands him. He rinses his mouth, then shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Spock. Jesus." He runs a hand over his face, rubbing away the sheen of sweat that threatens to freeze into ice on his skin.

"I should not have shown you that. It was not my intent to do so," Spock tries to explain. He looks truly concerned, and Jim shakes his head in disbelief, trying to reconcile the idea that this is the same man as the cold-hearted bastard who marooned him on this Godforsaken ice rock.

"Do you always..." Jim gestures at his own face.

"Mind-meld," Spock supplies.

"...with people you've just met?"

Spock shakes his head slowly. "Jim, I have known you for most of my life. You are the closest friend I have ever had. Were you anyone else, I would never have taken the liberty."

Jim is silent, then, as he absorbs that information. Abruptly, he reaches out and catches Spock's fingers in his, twining them together. "You love me," he says. It is not a question, but Spock nods anyway. "And I love you."

"The Jim Kirk I knew, in my timeline," Spock begins, but Jim leans forward and silences him with his lips against Spock's. Spock's hand tightens around Jim's, and his other hand comes up to run through Jim's hair.

When they break apart, Spock gently extracts his hand from Jim's. Jim drops his eyes and sighs. "I know. I'm not your Jim." Spock shakes his head. Jim bites his lip. "Shit. I'm sorry," he mutters.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Spock says gently, but Jim looks back at him, his eyes aflame.

"Like hell. I'm going to make that Romulan bastard pay," he spits. "As soon as I get the fuck off this planet."

That's the Jim Kirk I know, Spock thinks, and doesn't let his smile show. "Then let's get you back aboard the Enterprise," he answers.


( 6 written — Write it )
Jul. 12th, 2009 05:33 am (UTC)
I really love what you did with the name things, and how you handled Nero/Ayel, especially..... And that little extra 'kick' to the mind meld was wonderfully fitting.... if disturbing D:

Have you read Countdown, then? I am assuming so... It seemed to me that one thing that would make the Spock-Nero relationship that much more personal was the mind meld between them, and how really all Spock got were images/impressions of Mandana, and presumably of how much nero loved her..... The dream scene at the beginning of your story made me think about that more.
Jul. 12th, 2009 06:39 pm (UTC)
Yeah, I was trying to convey a little of that in the fic, but I couldn't figure out how to fit it in--how Nero trusted Spock with everything he loved, and felt so utterly betrayed when Spock failed him.

I'm glad you liked it, and sorry for disturbing you!
Jul. 12th, 2009 06:51 pm (UTC)
Its okay, I can stand to be a little disturbed now and then :)

I have been thinking for a long time about how to write something about that mindmeld - it just seems so *important*, but it hasn't come out right yet.
Jul. 12th, 2009 04:50 pm (UTC)
Great googli moogli. That was... intense doesn't even begin to cover it. I want to write you coherent compliments on the structure, diction, and characterization, but I think I need to go outside in the sunshine for a few minutes.

So here's the best compliment I can give: you have wrecked me with this. *shivers*
Jul. 12th, 2009 06:37 pm (UTC)
Sorry for wrecking you! And thanks for the compliments. :) I was planning on writing more semi-angsty fics soon, but after finishing this I think I need to just write happy fluff for a while. >.>
Jul. 13th, 2009 07:47 am (UTC)
Beautiful!!!! I didn't know how I would feel about reading Nero/Ayel/Spock because I only like N and A. I don't really ship the three some. But what you had here, where Spock wasn't a willing participant unlike the Kirk/Spock/Uhura fic I've seen. The grudge fucking (more like blow) made it ok. Great fic. My favorite line was

And Nero laughs, because he knows that Ayel usually knows better than to tell his captain information that he already knows.

( 6 written — Write it )


Sara Ellison

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