Characters: Kirk, Spock
Warnings: THE INTERNET IS FOR PORN.
Notes: This is comments 7-9 at the kinkmeme. Writer confesses to listening to Chemlab's Electric Molecular for the Kirk vibe in this and The Crüxshadows' Cruelty (Cruel Night) for the Spock totally losing his shit vibe. OH GOD. IT'S DONE. Now, to go start another one...
Spock blinked in confusion as his captain released both his hips and his now extremely attentive rock-hard erection. Settling his ass against the edge of the sink counter, he sat back up, closing his eyes against the dizziness of the sudden change in position.
"That didn't look comfortable," Kirk offered, and Spock could tell that wasn't the only reason.
"Th--Thank you, Captain." The room hadn't quite stopped spinning, and his body was filled with an entirely different sort of ache than it had been when they began. "Did you mean to continue this in a more comfortable arrangement?"
"Well, you know, it's your room, and I don't mean to take anything for granted, here." Kirk neatly avoided the question, looking awkward as he stood up and stepped toward the bathroom door.
Spock shook his pants off the ankle they were still caught on, and gestured toward his own crotch with one hand. "To avoid taking advantage of such an obvious offer of something you clearly desire, because of some unstated moral concern would be entirely illogical."
"Moral concern!?" Kirk looked offended at the very suggestion that he might have morals. "It just seemed fast. You're not usually one to rush into things, Spock. I couldn't be sure you weren't just humouring me or something."
"Captain, does it look like I am humouring you? If you would feel better about me taking control of this situation, I can do that." He slid down from the counter, lean and bare, and closed the slight distance between himself and his captain, slipping an arm around Kirk's waist and bringing his other swollen hand up to the captain's lips. "Do you feel better about it, this way?"
"Much." Kirk smiled and licked at the fingers against his lips, watching as Spock's eyelids fluttered in response. "Will you take me to bed?"
Spock couldn't use his fingers properly, yet, but the strength in his arms was just as it had always been. In a quick adjustment, he hooked a forearm under the captain's ass, pulling Kirk to the side and lifting him. Without another word, he walked out of the bathroom, turned the corner, and deposited the captain on his bed.
"Did you intend to continue wearing clothes?" he asked, lounging on the bed in the opposite direction, and sliding a hand up Kirk's leg. The world spun in lazy circles around Spock's head, as the almost imperceptible texture of the cloth filled his fingers with new and delicious sensations. "I do not think thermals will serve you well, in this climate."
"Are you going to take them off me?" Kirk asked, with a hint of challenge in his smile. The smile fell away as Spock lifted one eyebrow and both of his hands. "Right. Sorry. Are you sure you don't want Bones to take a look at that for you? It looks pretty bad."
"My hands will recover in a matter of hours," Spock replied, running a finger up the bottom of the captain's foot. "Why are you still dressed?"
With a wild look and a sharp laugh, Kirk yanked his shirt off and tossed it across the room. As he started to shimmy out of the thermal pants, Spock shifted around to lie beside him, propped up on one elbow, the other hand tracing surprisingly graceful figures up Kirk's chest.
"I thought your hands were busted," Kirk said, with a sly look as he wrenched the thermals off his feet, throwing them to meet the shirt.
"If you lean back, you will notice that it is not my fingers doing the work, but my wrist." Spock just looked smug.
"Creative bastard, aren't you?" Kirk rolled onto his side, sliding down the bed to come level with Spock. After a few long moments of watching the grace of the swollen, long-fingered hand against his chest, the captain captured it, raising the fingers to his lips, and slipping the first two into his mouth.
Spock arced backward so sharply, he nearly knocked himself off the bed, driving his hips against his captain's. He opened his mouth to say something -- to apologise or excuse himself in some way, but all that exited his mouth was a desperate moan.
The damage done to his hands had intensified every sensation in them to a nearly unbearable point, but his captain's tongue felt so very good that he was not about to complain, instead wrapping a leg around Kirk's, panting and rutting like a desperate animal. This was not what he wanted to be. This moment was the antithesis of all things any Vulcan strove for, but he could not stop himself from thrusting and grinding against his captain's thigh. He wanted to be in control, and this was so very far from any such thing, that he wasn't sure he was coming back.
Wild-eyed, Spock gasped as his fingers were removed from his captain's mouth. He growled, mildly threatening consequences if the sucking did not continue, post-haste.
"You really like that, don't you? Like it even more than when I sucked you here." Kirk's other hand traced a line along Spock's impressive erection, and the first officer's growl turned into a snarl of lust.
Spock rolled onto his back dragging Kirk onto him in a mess of legs and forearms. As the captain knelt across his hips, Spock back-wristed the drawer beside the head of his bed, which thankfully for situations like these, opened when pressed. He struggled to form words, to hold back the desperate lust of his human side, amplified by the Vulcan depth of emotion, and say something coherent.
"Jim," he managed, finally, tapping his wrist against the drawer. "Lube. Use it."
As Kirk stretched over him to look in the drawer, Spock crossed his ankles to make dead certain the lube ended up where he meant it to. He was starting to lose what little excuse for a grip he had, as his captain's crotch hovered mere inches from his face, and the scent of human lust assailed him. After a long and torturous two seconds, Kirk was back down with the bottle in his hand, and the flicker across the captain's face let Spock know that he'd figured it out. Kirk cocked his head and nodded, with a lazy shrug of acceptance. He moved to take Spock's fingers back into his mouth as he used the lube on himself first, but Spock jerked his hand back, unwilling to lose control until he was reasonably certain he wouldn't hurt his captain -- Jim, his mind insisted -- too badly.
"Really?" Kirk asked, slightly concerned.
"Not yet," Spock ground out. "Hurry up."
A daring smile slid onto the captain's face, as he moved to apply the lube to Spock, as well. "My, my... From 'don't touch my fingers' to 'I'm going to fuck you stupid' in under thirty minutes. I think this is a new record, for me."
Spock grunted, only half paying attention as he tried to recite full classification indices for various forms of plant life, to keep himself in check. There was his proud Vulcan control. Right where he'd left it. Everything was fine. Everything was exactly as it should be, with the possible exception of the fact that he was about to engage in what would likely be violent sexual intercourse with his captain. That was probably not at all as things ought to be, but he was willing to overlook that point, for the moment.
He failed to break from his reverie until Kirk mounted him. Spock's eyes shot open as his cock slid slowly into Jim. (For now he was unquestionably Jim.) He begged wordlessly, strained groans between gritted teeth, until at last, Jim took his hand, sucking the same two fingers. Spock bucked and thrust, scrabbling at the skin of Jim's hip with the useless fingers of the other hand, and getting nothing but more enticing sensations for his trouble. He made a sound he'd never heard from his own mouth, before, as Jim began to ride him -- nearly a howl of desperate lust. The few rational shreds of his mind vaguely wondered if pon farr would be like this, before realising that it would be significantly worse. As it stood, he'd had sex, before, but not like this. He'd also had frostbite, before. He'd just never thought that combining the two could possibly be a good idea, by any stretch of the imagination. Learn something new, every day...
When he came, Spock saw stars, or more accurately, he hallucinated the births of star systems, burning brightness against the infinite dark, the blinding forces of matter compressing and igniting, whipping through the black at immeasurable speeds. He probably made sound -- likely quite a bit of sound, given the way his chest ached and the raw burn in his throat. He remembered nothing but the deafening roar of an igniting star. His vision returned like a mirage, wavering sweat-sheened images of Jim still riding his now-softening erection, flushed pink as he knew he must be flushed green. As sound came back, he could hear Jim begging around the fingers in his mouth, pleading for the release he'd yet to reach. Jim's other hand, the one with which he didn't hold Spock's, was wrapped around his own erection, pumping erratically as pre-come dripped down his knuckles.
With an exhausted smirk, Spock licked the tip of his unoccupied thumb and ran it against a spot just below the head of Jim's cock -- an extremely sensitive spot he'd expected would be right where it was. Being half-human, he'd read up on these things, just in case they became important, although this was not the use he'd foreseen for this particular fact.
Jim gasped and choked at the unexpected sensation, throwing his head back, and letting Spock's fingers slip from his mouth as he came, painting Spock's chest and face in glistening white. As Jim sat bent backward and trembling with the force of his release, Spock's smirk took on sufficient force to be sardonic, rather than merely exhausted, and the Vulcan stuck out his tongue, licking the come from his lip.
From across the room, Kirk's communicator chirped.
"Unnh." Jim sounded disgruntled, sticking out one hand, as if expecting it to come to him to be answered. "Mission's over. Sleeping now. Fuck off."
Spock's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Captain, there's a comm link on the wall above my head, same as there is in your room. It's probably Dr. McCoy, checking on you," he rasped, still a bit raw in the throat.
Jim groaned and leaned forward, hailing sickbay as Spock's cock slid out of his ass. "Kirk here. We're fine. Go away. I'm sleeping now."
"Jim, you were caught in the sleet on an ice planet," McCoy's voice came back. "I need to make sure you haven't done something entirely stupid to yourself."
"Fuck off, Bones. If I hurt, you'd have seen me. There's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." With that, he flicked off the comm, and collapsed to the side, lying mostly next to Spock. "That was good. Really good. Sorry about your face."
"My face is an acceptable casualty. I have to do laundry anyway," Spock said, wiping his face and chest with the bedsheet.
"I'm too tired to get up. Can I stay here for a few hours?" Kirk was nearly whining, but in an intentionally pitiful manner.
"Only if you stop talking at once. I, too, would like to sleep."