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Beyond Dreams 9
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BEYOND DREAMS 9
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Want to read some of the zine before you decide whether to buy it? Sort of like picking up a book in the bookstore and flipping through the pages, it's a good way to discover if this zine is the right one for you. Just click on the links below to be transported into the special K/S world created by that particular author….
BETWIXT MAN
AND ANGELL by Elise Madrid
MORTAL THOUGHTS by Debbie Cummins
AS MUCH AS
LOVE ASKS by Khiori
TRANSGRESSIONS OF THE HEART by Bersakhi
NEW BEGINNINGS
by Starshadow
THIS SIDE OF
PURGATORY by Dina Collins
HARD TIMES by Anne
Elliot
From Betwixt Man and Angell by
Elise Madrid
Hands dragged at him, threatening to pull him into the darkness. Unable to find
purchase in the dew-laden grass, his boot heels digging vainly in the soft
earth, Kirk grabbed at whatever came within reach as he was forced deeper into
the forest. Whatever had him were but hazy outlines, yet their grasps were
strong and sure.
Kirk couldn’t remember how he’d got here. It was night and the moon hung full
and bright overhead. But the underbrush was thick and a heavy fog covered the
ground, muting the light. Trees towered around him and mocked his desperate
attempts at escape with their elusive branches always out of reach.
They came to an open glade and the ground began to rise, yet his captors seemed
to have no trouble propelling him forward. He continued to struggle against the
ghostly limbs that entwined about his arms and legs. Fear overpowered him as the
earth before them parted like a door opening and he was pulled through. A black
darker than night closed over him. There was something waiting for him here in
the ground, something alive. Kirk screamed.
“Jim! JIM!”
Kirk felt hands gripped tightly around his biceps. He tried to lash out, but he
was pinned down. “Let me go!” he cried, his voice tinged with hysteria.
“Jim, wake up!”
Finally, the concerned voice of his lover broke the nightmare’s grip on him. He
opened his eyes. Even in the semidarkness of the room he could make out Spock’s
visage above him, the shadows on Spock’s face deepening the lines of worry. With
a gasp, Kirk threw his arms around the Vulcan’s waist and pulled his lover to
him. He was in their bed, in the house he had grown up in; he was safe.
“Are you all right?” Spock let go of him and settled his hands in Kirk’s hair,
starting a gentle massage in an attempt to soothe.
Kirk only nodded. His heart was still pounding from the terror that was slowly
releasing him. Eventually he pushed Spock slightly away, enough so that he could
look up into his lover’s face. Kirk’s breath hitched. “I’m all right, now. It
was only a dream.”
“I do not believe I have ever seen you in such a state,” Spock noted while
continuing his caresses of Kirk’s nape and brow.
Kirk shakily laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a nightmare that bad. It
seemed so real.”
Spock came up on one elbow and studied him. “Can you tell me what the dream was
about, what frightened you so?”
He frowned as he tried to recall the nightmare, but the harder he tried the more
it seemed to fade away until all he could remember was the terror that had
shaken him so badly. He didn’t know which worried him more, the fact that he had
been so afraid, or his inability to recall what had frightened him so. Surely,
something that still had the power to make his hands tremble shouldn’t be so
easily lost. Finally he shook his head. “I don’t remember. Isn’t that odd?”
UP TO TOP
From Mortal Thoughts by
Debbie Cummins
The captain of the Enterprise stood at the edge of the pool, rubbing
a towel through his hair. His face was flushed, his chest heaving from exertion.
The chronometer on the wall said 0656 and he felt ready to take on the entire
Klingon and Romulan armies.
Flipping the towel over one shoulder, he watched as his first officer turned and
swam the length of the pool one final time and he smiled at the sight. When he'd
first come aboard the ship Spock had a reputation for hating the water. True,
he'd done the requisite three mile swim twice a year that Starfleet demanded,
but otherwise was a rare sight indeed within these walls. Not surprising, Kirk
mused, for someone reared on a planet with three-inch oceans. But swimming had
always been one of his favorite pastimes and at length Spock had given in
to his incessant invitations, had come and swam and actually grown to like it in
time.
And, Kirk thought, watching him cut through the water with the grace of a
dancer, he's pretty damned good at it.
The captain glanced to one side. He was hardly the only one who noticed. A
half dozen crewmembers, men and women both, meandered aimlessly around the
pool's perimeter, talking, stretching, trying valiantly not to look. More than
once in the past Kirk had seen the oblique stares as Spock stood, legs spread
widely apart, blissfully unaware, toweling himself dry at the water's edge.
Occasionally the offending crewmen would catch him watching them and would
quickly avert their eyes, but he knew all too well what a compelling sight the
Vulcan was. Let them look. It was as close as they’d ever get. Of that he was
sure.
The chronometer clicked over to 0700 hours. Kirk crouched down as Spock broke
the surface a few feet away and shook the water from his eyes. A lieutenant from
the historical research department sat nearby, her feet dangling in the water.
The woman’s melting look was clear from across the room but the captain ignored
it. Too late, he thought with an inward smile. He’s mine now.
The woman seemed to read his thoughts. She turned abruptly away and
scrutinized the far wall. “Hey,” he said to Spock, pretending not to notice.
“We'd better be moving if we're going to get any breakfast.”
Pulling himself out of the water, Spock reached for the towel the captain held
out. He wiped his face, shifting his body slightly to turn in the woman’s
direction. Kirk watched as her attention darted back despite herself and latched
squarely on the center of his chest, her expression somewhat glazed. Glancing
up, she met the captain’s eyes.
He smiled, saw the poor woman flush scarlet. “How's the research going, by the
way?” Kirk took pity on her, understood exactly how she felt. He turned back to
his first officer.
Spock lowered the towel, gave him a somewhat guilty look. “It’s taking longer
than I thought. It is a rather involved project.”
To that the captain almost laughed. Involved? It would take him a year and a day
to plow through that mass of data. Spock had shown him the list of computer
files he needed to consult. It went into the thousands.
UP TO TOP
From As Much As Love Asks by
Khiori
Kirk sank down in the chair and suppressed a yawn. He knew he should be
getting some sleep, but the events of the past forty-eight hours had left him so
keyed up that when he tried, he found he couldn’t even close his eyes. So he
settled instead for keeping a silent vigil over the still figure in the bed
nearby, the steady beep, beep of the overhead monitor the only sound in the
darkened sickbay. It served as a constant, reassuring reminder Spock was finally
out of danger, that he, that they, had beaten the odds once more.
Kirk wearily drew a hand across his face. He was just now beginning to shake off
the all-too familiar feelings of dread and fear that had been his ever-present
companions the last two days. At least now, armed with McCoy’s reassurance Spock
would make a full recovery, Kirk could breathe a little easier and maybe even
find brief respite from the worry that was always present but never
acknowledged, the constant anxiety that what he shared with this most special
being could be torn from him in an instant.
And yet…how did that quote go? “The hottest fire makes the strongest steel.”
That was what they had, a bond of life and death forged in the flames of an
unexpected pon farr and tempered by the cool, soothing breezes of a human’s
love. A bond which forever tied his existence to a skinny, half-breed Vulcan
whose gentle, compassionate nature made the difficult times duty often demanded
that much easier to bear.
From Transgressions of the Heart
by Bersakhi
The setting sun reflected off empty cobblestone
streets. Most shopkeepers had gone home for the day. The intoxicating alien
smells of meals being prepared and the quiet murmuring of residents secure in
their future on a prosperous planet filled the air as the two Federation
officers wandered through the city.
Spock walked beside Kirk in silent companionship, basking in the satisfaction of
a job well done, the comforting presence of his bondmate beside him, the hot
bath oils from a moment of self-indulgence still teasing his nostrils.
As they turned a corner, Kirk suddenly pulled him into a long shadowed alleyway
and pushed him up against the heavy stone wall. Kirk’s brazenness caught Spock
by surprise and he gasped slightly as Kirk cushioned his head with one hand
while the other went lower, clasping his ass tightly as they pressed together.
Their tongues met with equal heat. The feeling of Kirk pressing him against the
unyielding wall made Spock hard instantly and he let out a soft moan. He was
overcome with something he had not yet experienced in their physical
relationship, something very animalistic and primitive.
“Jim.” Spock could barely get the word out. Kirk’s lips broke away and attacked
Spock’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. Kirk’s hand came between them, hot
fingers outlining his erection, nudging his balls near the point of no return.
Spock despaired; he would soon be unable to speak, but he had to remain in
control, for both of them. He had not felt this intensity from his bondmate
before, at least not in public. He would not be able to restrain himself much
longer if logic did not intervene.
“Jim…stop.”
“Don’t worry, love, I won’t. I…can’t,” Kirk breathed into his ear. Kirk’s tongue
was now licking its edge, his lips pulling in and sucking on the lobe. Spock
knew if Kirk’s attention proceeded upward to the tip he would be lost
completely.
Spock’s hands moved from where they were pressed into Kirk’s waist and reached
his lover’s shoulders. Very gently he insinuated his hands between them, trying
to subtly separate them. But Kirk was beyond rational thought. His lips were
nuzzling Spock’s ear and his fingers were dipping past his waistband. Spock’s
hands reached Kirk’s forearms and his grip tightened.
“Jim! Stop this!” he whispered urgently against Kirk’s temple. The roving hands
froze, Kirk’s lips rested in the soft space behind Spock’s earlobe, and his
breathing settled to an almost regular rhythm.
Spock contained his moan. The human’s face was flushed, feral, and, to Spock,
painfully erotic.
“I know. We…can’t. I’m…wow. Forgive me. I don’t know what came over me. I just
suddenly couldn’t—”
“Help yourself.”
Kirk matched the mischievous sparkle in Spock’s eye and grinned. “Yeah. It’s
been a while since I felt the need to act so—”
“Impulsively.”
Kirk’s smile widened, but he did not move completely away, for which Spock was
grateful. He decided he enjoyed the feeling of being pinned helplessly by his
lover, even if it was an illusion. At any moment, Spock could have hurled him to
the ground, or at the very least pushed him away.
“Is this going to become a habit with you?” Kirk asked with wry amusement.
“Completing your sentences?”
“Yes.”
“Are you bothered by it?”
“Not at all. I love that you know me so well. Sometimes it’s as if we don’t need
the mental bond, our conscious thought patterns are so aligned.”
Spock pondered that as he searched the hazel eyes. To Kirk it was not a need, he
knew, but to him, a Vulcan, it had been as necessary as the pon farr.
“Jim, we really must—”
“Move on.” Kirk winked. “See, I can do it, too. Let’s just hold it together
for a few more hours.” He pressed a final kiss onto Spock’s lips and pushed
himself away, running his hands through his hair roughly as if to shake himself
out of his aroused and unfulfilled state.
Spock rearranged his Vulcanness as they left the alley. Their heels seemed to
echo loudly on the stone path as they emerged out onto the main street, now
images of Starfleet decorum, but with steps lightened in anticipation of some
private time after the banquet that evening.
UP TO TOP
From New Beginnings by Starshadow
The difficulties and the deprivations—even the self-torture—of Kohlinahr
paled in comparison to what I endured in order to face those eyes and keep my
shields in place. My ancestors alone knew how difficult it was to show nothing
in my face, even when his pain touched me. I wanted to flinch. I wanted to cry
out for his forgiveness, for his understanding. I did not. I simply told him of
the thought process I had sensed. What I did not tell him was that the voice
that broke my discipline was his. The bond was still there between us; I knew he
could feel me through it.
When he told me he needed me, it nearly broke me; fortunately McCoy was there to
be a distraction for both of us. It was, perhaps, the only thing that kept me
from falling to my knees. I feel certain Jim would have known my distance then
for what it was—a sham and a lie—told because I thought I could make it true. It
was my hope to access the logic of the mind that proved to be V’ger and use that
logic to break the bond I had labored in vain to sunder—the link that bound me
to him as tightly as ever.
How could I have deceived myself so? I, who had been raised to deny no painful
truth? I, who knew the purpose of the Mind Rules was to accept what was so and
move on from it, in logic? I, who had given my soul to this man, if soul I had
beyond my katra? I knew nothing. I had been, once again, a fool. Would I ever
cease being so?
When V’ger and its sterility nearly tore my katra from me, I finally understood
the depths of my self-deception. How could I sever my soul from his? How could I
deny the part of myself that made the pursuit of knowledge and lore worth while?
I do not know if he will take me back. I have no right to ask. Vulcans speak
much of human fickleness and human unfaithfulness, yet I was the one who, in the
profanity of trying to sever the bond between us, lacked faith in him. I did not
understand his pain.
UP TO TOP
From This Side of Purgatory
by Dina Collins
I had lost him again.
My Mr. Spock, my sweet love. I’d missed him all those long years, and now I’d
lost him for the second time.
That first night after leaving Omicron Ceti III was one of the worst nights of
my life. I’ll never forget it. It was as if the world had come to an end. I
guess it had in a way, as certainly my world had come to an end. I was in
utter shock. I couldn’t believe what had happened; it was like a bad dream that
I couldn’t wake up from. I remember telling myself that at any minute I’d wake
up and the nightmare would be over. Mr. Spock and I would be together once
again, on the planet’s surface. He’d smile at me and lean over to kiss me. Why
couldn’t I wake up?
But I was already awake.
Perhaps it had been a sign of what was to come—a portent—that I never managed to
stop addressing him as “Mr. Spock” and call him just “Spock.” Maybe my
subconscious had known our relationship wouldn’t work out. And maybe Mr. Spock
knew that too, because he had never prompted me to stop calling him Mister.
I was in my temporary quarters on the Enterprise. Fortunately I didn’t
have to bunk with anyone else during the journey, and I wondered if that was Mr.
Spock’s doing: he’d always been thoughtful like that. I was glad—I didn’t want
anyone else to see what a mess I’d become. Although it was 2:42 in the morning,
I was wide-awake. I turned on my side in the narrow bunk, pulled my knees to my
chest, and wrapped my arms around them. The room was freezing and my blankets
had slipped to the floor, but I was too miserable to pick them up. A tear
trickled down my cheek, and I dashed it away with an angry swipe of my hand.
I couldn’t help but think back to the first time we met, six years ago, on
Earth. Mr. Spock was assigned to the Enterprise even then. He and I were
both participants in a six-week seminar on the development of cross species
grains and farming on colonized worlds. I was twenty-five years old, and that
seminar was the last requirement necessary to complete my final graduate degree.
I rushed into the auditorium late for the initial lecture and threw myself into
an empty seat in the first row. After settling my possessions, I looked around.
Seated next to me was a dark, imposing Vulcan, dressed human-style in trousers
and a sweater. I had never met a Vulcan before and I remember feeling
intimidated by him. After that I remember thinking that he was attractive,
although he was nothing like the men who usually caught my eye. He was tall and
skinny, with long limbs and graceful hands. His ears and eyebrows were nothing
short of beautiful.
UP TO TOP
From Hard Times by Anne Elliot
He
beamed up alone into the middle of ship’s night; Spock had made his excuses and
returned to the ship well over an hour earlier, while Kirk was occupied in the
gardens. The corridors on deck five were empty and dim, the only sound the
distant and ever present pulse of the great engines twenty decks below. Kirk had
had too much to drink, although he wasn’t drunk, and an over indulgence in the
tiny sweet pastries on offer had made him feel faintly nauseated. He needed to
go for a long swim and for a hard session in the gym.
All that was for tomorrow, however; he had to get through tonight first.
The living area was empty when he entered the cabin, although the lights were
on, and he pulled off his dress jacket with a savage gesture. On cue, the door
to the bedroom hissed open and Spock stood in the doorway, dressed in his
sleeping robe, saying not a word but nevertheless speaking volumes. The silence
was deafening and Kirk, never one to shirk a challenge, got in first. “Nothing
happened, Spock,” he said. “Absolutely nothing.”
There was a moment’s pause and Kirk saw the thin shoulders sag in relief. The
sight made him illogically angry, even though he was well aware that his anger
was largely driven by guilt.
“You didn’t trust me,” he accused, also aware that attack was frequently the
best form of defence.
Unfortunately, Spock knew that, too, and he stepped fully into the room at
Kirk’s words, allowing the door to close behind him. The Vulcan pinned him with
a hard look before saying with unexpected mildness, “This is not about me.”
Kirk felt the anger leave him as quickly as it had arrived, and he sighed
heavily as he sank into a nearby chair. “Yes, I know.” He rubbed a hand wearily
over his face. “Spock, I’m sorry. I was flirting and I shouldn’t have been. I
left you with those bloodthirsty young officers and I shouldn’t have done that,
either. Then I went outside with Amaree and I definitely shouldn’t have
done that.”
Spock sat down on the chair next to him. “So, what exactly did happen?”
“In the grounds? She took me into the trees and…let’s just say she made it very
clear what she wanted from me. She didn’t get it.”
UP TO TOP