On your knees Captain, Archer/Pike, NC-17
Title: On your knees Captain
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Archer/Pike
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Enticements: none,
Genre: MU but scheming rather than evil
Word Count: Around 2400
Beta: betaed with speed and charm by the lovely wunnerwmn. All remaining errors are my own.
Summary: Written as a thank-you fic for my Big Bang beta, the ever-helpful imachar.
Admiral Archer sets out to punish Captain Pike for the loss of his dog. But the game may be more complex than either man realises.
This is a thank you fic for imachar, who came out of lurkerdom to beta a few thousand words for me and
some months later found herself ploughing gamely through my entire Big Bang, not once but twice!
Thanks so much, darlin'!!!
* * * * *
“On your knees, Captain.”
Pike sighs inwardly as he sinks gracefully to the floor. Thankfully Starfleet Command’s Chief of Staff otherwise known as Admiral Jonathan ‘in the name of the Emperor isn’t he dead yet?’ Archer goes in for particularly plush Persian carpets so this is less uncomfortable than it might be. Clearly some kind of discipline was going to be forth-coming after the debacle with that mange-ridden mutt. Frankly he is relieved to have the opportunity to get this over with.
“Your chief engineer warped my prize beagle right out of existence. My beautiful, precious baby boy. What was the man thinking? Why didn’t he just test the confounded thing on a fucking cadet?”
This is a fair enough question. One cadet more, one cadet less, no one would care either way. Pike curses the day he ever let his mad mechanic out of his sight.
“Do you know what I’ve done with him?”
Although looking submissively at the floor, Pike is listening intently. The Scotsman is crazier than a sack of rabid weasels, but he is a damn fine engineer and Pike would like him back.
He listens to the distinctive sound of a zip being pulled down, a button released.
“I’ve exiled him to Delta Vega, Captain. You might have heard of it? An icy Class M planet in the Vulcan system. Our farthest and coldest Federation outpost. And there he will rot, all alone except for the attentive company of one Keenser.”
Archer has fished down into his briefs and pulled out quite a substantial cock. Oh, that has so obviously been enhanced, thinks Pike. Most likely takes a shitload of chemicals to actually get it up these days.
“Keenser is some bizarre green lizard alien thing we posted out there after destroying the rest of his planet for insubordination,” Archer informs him as he lazily pumps his prick. “They are a horny species apparently, definitely towards the seven-times a night end of the spectrum. Being without a partner drives them slowly insane. He’s only four foot high but with a sexual organ like a club and twice the strength of a human. He will be doubtless be desperate to offer your engineer a warm and personal welcome.”
“Open,” he snaps at Pike and pushes the now erect member between his lips. Pike complies. The sooner started, the sooner finished. He doubts the old man can keep it up too long these days. Is he imagining that whiff of embalming fluid?
With Pike’s mouth filled to his satisfaction, Archer continues his musings. “And should he chose to run screaming out into the freezing night to avoid Keenser, your man can chose to dodge the Drakoulias, huge furry predators whose very claws are imbued with poison. Very pretty really. I’m trying to have one brought back for my personal zoo.”
Pike keeps his mouth moist and steady, not wasting his time with any fancy tricks until he has fully assessed the mood of the Admiral. Archer would not still be alive and in command after all these decades without being a very devious man indeed.
“Of course the only enemy that might save that dog-killer from the Drakoulias is the Hengrauggi, with six limbs, hundreds of eyes and a whip-like tail to grasp their prey as they surge out of one of the icy lakes. The brutality of nature is really quite inspiring.” Indeed, this cheerful recitation of the ways the engineer might die has hardened the old Admiral up very nicely.
Damn. No easy way to get Scotty back, then. Still, Pike has to admire the creative viciousness of the punishment. Admiral Archer has always had a taste for the dramatic, searching for the innovative punishment rather than relying on the mundane choices of the agony booth or the public fucking. Which does make Pike wonder why he seems to be getting away with no more than a demeaning blowjob.
“I loved that dog, I’ll have you know. He was given to me by a mother trying to foist her daughter on me. I took them both, exercised them hard, and kept the dog. I’ve had him since he was six weeks old!”
Pike boggles mentally. He’s heard the mother story before. Who hasn’t? Archer is of an age to repeat himself. But that was over a hundred years ago. Surely Archer means that this dog is the great-great-grand-whatever of the original. Doesn’t he? Or has he been using bioregeneration technology on the dog? He’s clearly been using it on himself. No one seems too clear about just how old Archer is. He does know that various members of the Admiralty are beginning to despair of the man ever actually dying.
“I called him Porthos,” Archer says wistfully. “He was named after one of the four musketeers.”
Maybe this isn’t actually Scotty’s fault after all. Maybe there is some truth in the man’s crazed claim that the dog hurled itself manically onto the beamer pad just as he was activating the trial run. Maybe it was trying to meet its maker while it still had a little dignity and a few original parts left.
Archer abruptly turns petulant, seizing Pike’s head in two large hands. “I don’t like being without a pet, Captain. I’m used to having one around. Someone to follow me about, sit at my feet, follow my orders. So you are going to be making it up to me, Pike. As of now your command of the ISS Yorktown is rescinded. You are reassigned as an instructor and recruiter for the Academy for the foreseeable future. To be available whenever and wherever I require you.” Archer tightens his grip on Pike’s head and shoves his cock hard into the back of his mouth. It’s pretty clear what his requirements are likely to entail.
Pike chokes around his substantial mouthful. To lose his command. To be reduced to wiping the shitty asses of snotty little cadets. To serve out his career on his knees after being king of his own ship. If he doesn’t find a way out of this Delta Vega isn’t going to be nearly far away enough to save Scotty from his wrath. The Hengrauggi will have nothing on him.
He swallows down his panic and focuses his considerable intellect on the task at hand. Putting a subordinate on his or her knees is a favourite trick but if you have the brains to see beyond the immediate humiliation it is not nearly the one-way street that it may seem. Pike is good at this, very good. He’s made sure of that. After all, it is just another weapon at his disposal. He has the Admiral’s manhood between his teeth. And soon he will have the man’s brains spiralling down into his groin. Done well, the most formidable man can be reduced to spasming idiocy in the moment of orgasm. And Pike does this very well indeed.
He tongues the slit sensuously and lets his teeth graze gently along the taut foreskin. Archer is leaking fluid now, slick and salty. He lets the fluid mix with his saliva, bathing the Admiral’s cock in liquid heat. He slides the flat of his tongue down towards base and then runs the tip of his tongue back up the vein. Lets the tight sucking O of his lips slide up and down slowly, sumptuously. Lets his tongue vibrate against the frenum.
Archer is now panting above him. “Oh I knew you’d be good at this Captain. Such a pretty mouth on you, all pink and pouting. Just made for my dick. And to think that I’ve got years of this ahead for me.” Pike looks up and locks eyes with the Admiral, gazing up submissively into the triumphant brown eyes.
We’ll see about that, he thinks, as he senses the onset of the moment of truth. He sucks the cock deep into the smooth recesses of his throat, his gag reflex long since battered into submission. He hums hard in a low register, letting the vibrations shiver up through Archer’s cock, and then pulls gently on the other man’s balls. As the man beings to thrust erratically, his climax shuddering through him in rough waves, Pike is already up on his feet, leaving the come to dribble onto the precious carpet. He has the Admiral in a throat lock before he has even finished orgasming, an ornamental cushion from a nearby couch pressed tightly over his nose and mouth.
“I am nobody’s pet, Admiral,” snarls Pike into his ear. “Death in the throes of coitus. A heart attack in the heat of the moment. Hardly surprising for a man of your age with a pretty young thing at your feet. So many people will be glad to see the back of you that nobody will question it.”
He watches with clinical interest as the veins on Archer’s forehead begin to bulge and his skin tinges blue. He is not quite applying a killing pressure though. He is surprised that a man of Archer’s experience would try something quite as crude as simply stripping Pike of his command. Did he really think that a captain of Pike’s calibre would just concede?
He suspects that there is more to this story and information is always more useful than revenge. Revenge can be exacted at a later date. As Archer waves frantically at him, he backs away but not before removing both the agonizer and the phaser from the Admiral’s belt. He of course had been disarmed before he entered the office. Now the balance of power is distributed more to his liking.
“Well played, Captain,” wheezes Archer once he has his breath back. “Your resume is impressive but I needed to get the measure of you as a man. I knew you’d be the right choice for this.”
“Choice for what?” demands Pike, toying idly with the phaser, sliding the catch carelessly back and forth between stun and kill.
Archer smiles indulgently at this little piece of power play. The man does not rattle easily, Pike will give him that. Archer calmly tucks himself back in and continues.
“You’ve heard the rumours about a new Constitution-class starship? It’s true. The Admiralty has just authorized the building of a new flagship. The propulsion system is just beautiful - sub-light impulse engines, thrusters and faster-than-light warp nacelles. And the weapons will include six ball-turret phaser banks and photon torpedo launchers. This will dwarf everything else in the fleet. It will be ready for launch in four years. I want to direct the design and I want to choose the captain. Whoever controls that ship will control the destiny of the Empire for the next decade.”
Pike is listening intently. Now this really is interesting.
“You’ve had an impressive career, Pike. I’ve been watching you.” Despite the wrinkles that surround them, the brown eyes that regard him are pin-sharp. “You’ve been ruthless in suppressing our rivals, but among your own crew there is remarkably little back-stabbing.
“Back in my day the Empire was a force for good, spreading order among chaotic and barbarian races, bringing the civilizing influence of Terran culture to backward planets. But now we are rotting from within, slaughtering our own rather than our enemies. We’re the Roman Empire in decline, putrid in our pride. Something needs to be done.”
Pike listens, astonished. This is verging on the edge of treason. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t true though.
“Four years grounded may seem humiliating, Pike, but it is actually a shrewd investment in your career. Captains in deep space get too used to being mini-Emperors. And then they’re recalled to HQ to find that they have no allies and no ability to play the power games of the Admiralty. Captain is just the beginning of a career for a man as able as yourself. Work with me here. Make those allies. Have the ship designed as we want. And then take the captaincy on my behalf.”
Pike is fascinated. He gets the strategy immediately. To captain the flagship with a powerful ally backing him up at HQ… it would be a dream come true. He can live with the apparent degradation of losing his command with this prize to play for. And he can pick his own crew too, identify the best of the cadets and groom them to his purposes. If he could mould a crew that was not riven with the infighting rife throughout Starfleet, he would have an enormous advantage.
“So. A partnership?” he says to Archer.
Archer smiles coldly while ever so casually stroking the bands on the wrist of his uniform that signal his rank. “Of a sort. Of course you’ll have to be seen to bow to me. And I have much to teach you about the ways of the world. I do have many more decades of experience. You’ll be a... junior partner.”
Archer is now palming his crotch which is once again beginning to bulge. Pike keeps his face appropriately solemn while smiling cynically inside. So the horny old goat gets off on power. That’s hardly a surprise. He must be on the aphrodisiacs, too. Probably one of those illegal Orion extracts.
Without being asked Pike goes back down on his knees. Archer seems pleased with this grateful obedience. Old fool, thinks Pike, allowing the younger man this power over him. Many an old man has lost his head over his boy toy lover. Pike knows all the moves.
After a few minutes he pulls his mouth off the Admiral’s prick and, while looking up and locking eyes with Archer, he licks several long sloppy strokes up the palm of his right hand. He takes out his own cock and begins to fist himself teasingly in his slick palm as he takes the Admiral back between his lips. Archer frowns disapproving at this piece of unauthorized initiative. Pike holds his gaze unblinkingly while taking the swollen glans delicately between his teeth and flickering his tongue over tiny slit. Archer looks away first as his eyes glaze over with lust.
Pike smirks around his mouthful. This is going to be good. A partnership indeed, one that might even change the course of the Empire if he plays his game with care. And Archer may live to be surprised by who the junior partner turns out to be.
- THE END -
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Archer/Pike
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Enticements: none,
Genre: MU but scheming rather than evil
Word Count: Around 2400
Beta: betaed with speed and charm by the lovely wunnerwmn. All remaining errors are my own.
Summary: Written as a thank-you fic for my Big Bang beta, the ever-helpful imachar.
Admiral Archer sets out to punish Captain Pike for the loss of his dog. But the game may be more complex than either man realises.
This is a thank you fic for imachar, who came out of lurkerdom to beta a few thousand words for me and
some months later found herself ploughing gamely through my entire Big Bang, not once but twice!
Thanks so much, darlin'!!!
* * * * *
“On your knees, Captain.”
Pike sighs inwardly as he sinks gracefully to the floor. Thankfully Starfleet Command’s Chief of Staff otherwise known as Admiral Jonathan ‘in the name of the Emperor isn’t he dead yet?’ Archer goes in for particularly plush Persian carpets so this is less uncomfortable than it might be. Clearly some kind of discipline was going to be forth-coming after the debacle with that mange-ridden mutt. Frankly he is relieved to have the opportunity to get this over with.
“Your chief engineer warped my prize beagle right out of existence. My beautiful, precious baby boy. What was the man thinking? Why didn’t he just test the confounded thing on a fucking cadet?”
This is a fair enough question. One cadet more, one cadet less, no one would care either way. Pike curses the day he ever let his mad mechanic out of his sight.
“Do you know what I’ve done with him?”
Although looking submissively at the floor, Pike is listening intently. The Scotsman is crazier than a sack of rabid weasels, but he is a damn fine engineer and Pike would like him back.
He listens to the distinctive sound of a zip being pulled down, a button released.
“I’ve exiled him to Delta Vega, Captain. You might have heard of it? An icy Class M planet in the Vulcan system. Our farthest and coldest Federation outpost. And there he will rot, all alone except for the attentive company of one Keenser.”
Archer has fished down into his briefs and pulled out quite a substantial cock. Oh, that has so obviously been enhanced, thinks Pike. Most likely takes a shitload of chemicals to actually get it up these days.
“Keenser is some bizarre green lizard alien thing we posted out there after destroying the rest of his planet for insubordination,” Archer informs him as he lazily pumps his prick. “They are a horny species apparently, definitely towards the seven-times a night end of the spectrum. Being without a partner drives them slowly insane. He’s only four foot high but with a sexual organ like a club and twice the strength of a human. He will be doubtless be desperate to offer your engineer a warm and personal welcome.”
“Open,” he snaps at Pike and pushes the now erect member between his lips. Pike complies. The sooner started, the sooner finished. He doubts the old man can keep it up too long these days. Is he imagining that whiff of embalming fluid?
With Pike’s mouth filled to his satisfaction, Archer continues his musings. “And should he chose to run screaming out into the freezing night to avoid Keenser, your man can chose to dodge the Drakoulias, huge furry predators whose very claws are imbued with poison. Very pretty really. I’m trying to have one brought back for my personal zoo.”
Pike keeps his mouth moist and steady, not wasting his time with any fancy tricks until he has fully assessed the mood of the Admiral. Archer would not still be alive and in command after all these decades without being a very devious man indeed.
“Of course the only enemy that might save that dog-killer from the Drakoulias is the Hengrauggi, with six limbs, hundreds of eyes and a whip-like tail to grasp their prey as they surge out of one of the icy lakes. The brutality of nature is really quite inspiring.” Indeed, this cheerful recitation of the ways the engineer might die has hardened the old Admiral up very nicely.
Damn. No easy way to get Scotty back, then. Still, Pike has to admire the creative viciousness of the punishment. Admiral Archer has always had a taste for the dramatic, searching for the innovative punishment rather than relying on the mundane choices of the agony booth or the public fucking. Which does make Pike wonder why he seems to be getting away with no more than a demeaning blowjob.
“I loved that dog, I’ll have you know. He was given to me by a mother trying to foist her daughter on me. I took them both, exercised them hard, and kept the dog. I’ve had him since he was six weeks old!”
Pike boggles mentally. He’s heard the mother story before. Who hasn’t? Archer is of an age to repeat himself. But that was over a hundred years ago. Surely Archer means that this dog is the great-great-grand-whatever of the original. Doesn’t he? Or has he been using bioregeneration technology on the dog? He’s clearly been using it on himself. No one seems too clear about just how old Archer is. He does know that various members of the Admiralty are beginning to despair of the man ever actually dying.
“I called him Porthos,” Archer says wistfully. “He was named after one of the four musketeers.”
Maybe this isn’t actually Scotty’s fault after all. Maybe there is some truth in the man’s crazed claim that the dog hurled itself manically onto the beamer pad just as he was activating the trial run. Maybe it was trying to meet its maker while it still had a little dignity and a few original parts left.
Archer abruptly turns petulant, seizing Pike’s head in two large hands. “I don’t like being without a pet, Captain. I’m used to having one around. Someone to follow me about, sit at my feet, follow my orders. So you are going to be making it up to me, Pike. As of now your command of the ISS Yorktown is rescinded. You are reassigned as an instructor and recruiter for the Academy for the foreseeable future. To be available whenever and wherever I require you.” Archer tightens his grip on Pike’s head and shoves his cock hard into the back of his mouth. It’s pretty clear what his requirements are likely to entail.
Pike chokes around his substantial mouthful. To lose his command. To be reduced to wiping the shitty asses of snotty little cadets. To serve out his career on his knees after being king of his own ship. If he doesn’t find a way out of this Delta Vega isn’t going to be nearly far away enough to save Scotty from his wrath. The Hengrauggi will have nothing on him.
He swallows down his panic and focuses his considerable intellect on the task at hand. Putting a subordinate on his or her knees is a favourite trick but if you have the brains to see beyond the immediate humiliation it is not nearly the one-way street that it may seem. Pike is good at this, very good. He’s made sure of that. After all, it is just another weapon at his disposal. He has the Admiral’s manhood between his teeth. And soon he will have the man’s brains spiralling down into his groin. Done well, the most formidable man can be reduced to spasming idiocy in the moment of orgasm. And Pike does this very well indeed.
He tongues the slit sensuously and lets his teeth graze gently along the taut foreskin. Archer is leaking fluid now, slick and salty. He lets the fluid mix with his saliva, bathing the Admiral’s cock in liquid heat. He slides the flat of his tongue down towards base and then runs the tip of his tongue back up the vein. Lets the tight sucking O of his lips slide up and down slowly, sumptuously. Lets his tongue vibrate against the frenum.
Archer is now panting above him. “Oh I knew you’d be good at this Captain. Such a pretty mouth on you, all pink and pouting. Just made for my dick. And to think that I’ve got years of this ahead for me.” Pike looks up and locks eyes with the Admiral, gazing up submissively into the triumphant brown eyes.
We’ll see about that, he thinks, as he senses the onset of the moment of truth. He sucks the cock deep into the smooth recesses of his throat, his gag reflex long since battered into submission. He hums hard in a low register, letting the vibrations shiver up through Archer’s cock, and then pulls gently on the other man’s balls. As the man beings to thrust erratically, his climax shuddering through him in rough waves, Pike is already up on his feet, leaving the come to dribble onto the precious carpet. He has the Admiral in a throat lock before he has even finished orgasming, an ornamental cushion from a nearby couch pressed tightly over his nose and mouth.
“I am nobody’s pet, Admiral,” snarls Pike into his ear. “Death in the throes of coitus. A heart attack in the heat of the moment. Hardly surprising for a man of your age with a pretty young thing at your feet. So many people will be glad to see the back of you that nobody will question it.”
He watches with clinical interest as the veins on Archer’s forehead begin to bulge and his skin tinges blue. He is not quite applying a killing pressure though. He is surprised that a man of Archer’s experience would try something quite as crude as simply stripping Pike of his command. Did he really think that a captain of Pike’s calibre would just concede?
He suspects that there is more to this story and information is always more useful than revenge. Revenge can be exacted at a later date. As Archer waves frantically at him, he backs away but not before removing both the agonizer and the phaser from the Admiral’s belt. He of course had been disarmed before he entered the office. Now the balance of power is distributed more to his liking.
“Well played, Captain,” wheezes Archer once he has his breath back. “Your resume is impressive but I needed to get the measure of you as a man. I knew you’d be the right choice for this.”
“Choice for what?” demands Pike, toying idly with the phaser, sliding the catch carelessly back and forth between stun and kill.
Archer smiles indulgently at this little piece of power play. The man does not rattle easily, Pike will give him that. Archer calmly tucks himself back in and continues.
“You’ve heard the rumours about a new Constitution-class starship? It’s true. The Admiralty has just authorized the building of a new flagship. The propulsion system is just beautiful - sub-light impulse engines, thrusters and faster-than-light warp nacelles. And the weapons will include six ball-turret phaser banks and photon torpedo launchers. This will dwarf everything else in the fleet. It will be ready for launch in four years. I want to direct the design and I want to choose the captain. Whoever controls that ship will control the destiny of the Empire for the next decade.”
Pike is listening intently. Now this really is interesting.
“You’ve had an impressive career, Pike. I’ve been watching you.” Despite the wrinkles that surround them, the brown eyes that regard him are pin-sharp. “You’ve been ruthless in suppressing our rivals, but among your own crew there is remarkably little back-stabbing.
“Back in my day the Empire was a force for good, spreading order among chaotic and barbarian races, bringing the civilizing influence of Terran culture to backward planets. But now we are rotting from within, slaughtering our own rather than our enemies. We’re the Roman Empire in decline, putrid in our pride. Something needs to be done.”
Pike listens, astonished. This is verging on the edge of treason. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t true though.
“Four years grounded may seem humiliating, Pike, but it is actually a shrewd investment in your career. Captains in deep space get too used to being mini-Emperors. And then they’re recalled to HQ to find that they have no allies and no ability to play the power games of the Admiralty. Captain is just the beginning of a career for a man as able as yourself. Work with me here. Make those allies. Have the ship designed as we want. And then take the captaincy on my behalf.”
Pike is fascinated. He gets the strategy immediately. To captain the flagship with a powerful ally backing him up at HQ… it would be a dream come true. He can live with the apparent degradation of losing his command with this prize to play for. And he can pick his own crew too, identify the best of the cadets and groom them to his purposes. If he could mould a crew that was not riven with the infighting rife throughout Starfleet, he would have an enormous advantage.
“So. A partnership?” he says to Archer.
Archer smiles coldly while ever so casually stroking the bands on the wrist of his uniform that signal his rank. “Of a sort. Of course you’ll have to be seen to bow to me. And I have much to teach you about the ways of the world. I do have many more decades of experience. You’ll be a... junior partner.”
Archer is now palming his crotch which is once again beginning to bulge. Pike keeps his face appropriately solemn while smiling cynically inside. So the horny old goat gets off on power. That’s hardly a surprise. He must be on the aphrodisiacs, too. Probably one of those illegal Orion extracts.
Without being asked Pike goes back down on his knees. Archer seems pleased with this grateful obedience. Old fool, thinks Pike, allowing the younger man this power over him. Many an old man has lost his head over his boy toy lover. Pike knows all the moves.
After a few minutes he pulls his mouth off the Admiral’s prick and, while looking up and locking eyes with Archer, he licks several long sloppy strokes up the palm of his right hand. He takes out his own cock and begins to fist himself teasingly in his slick palm as he takes the Admiral back between his lips. Archer frowns disapproving at this piece of unauthorized initiative. Pike holds his gaze unblinkingly while taking the swollen glans delicately between his teeth and flickering his tongue over tiny slit. Archer looks away first as his eyes glaze over with lust.
Pike smirks around his mouthful. This is going to be good. A partnership indeed, one that might even change the course of the Empire if he plays his game with care. And Archer may live to be surprised by who the junior partner turns out to be.
- THE END -