My smut tank was refilled a couple days after I posted Life of the Party, so I decided to give it a more explicit ending for those of you I semi-unintentionally trolled! I forgot I didn't crosspost this here until today...

The frantic thud of Spock's heartbeat against his eardrums helped distract him from the faint ringing left by the club's bass.

"C'mon… got one more in you?"

Jim's voice continued to prove an even more effective distraction.

Spock bunched the sheets in his fists and sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down as hard as he could without breaking the skin. The sensation of a hand gently but insistently stroking his oversensitized penis to hardness was both pleasant and unpleasant, and he feared if he allowed himself to speak, he would only babble contradictions.

"I knew it." A hot mouth tasted the junction of his neck and shoulder, a hot tongue licked a wet trail up to the base of his ear. The things that tongue had done to Spock in the past two point one hours escaped accurate scientific description. "Five times? Six? And look at you – still ready for more."

"Five," Spock gasped, although the margin of error was higher than he would have liked. The first time in the club hallway, with Jim's mouth around him. The second in the hotel before either of them had disrobed, simply from the desperate friction as they rutted against one another. The third when Jim's fingers teased his anus and pressed inside, and the forth when Jim had combined the first and third sexual acts in such a way that Spock found himself pleading for release. The fifth when Jim's erection took the place of his fingers.

The sixth during a repetition of that practice, with Spock on his hands and knees.

Spock blinked at the ceiling in a daze. It appeared his original estimate was incorrect. Not that it mattered, because Jim was stroking him more firmly now, and all that his mind wanted to process was adding another climax to that total. His throbbed in Jim's hand, sore from excessive stimulation, but nevertheless completely erect.

Apparently satisfied with the results of his efforts, Jim let him go. He didn't bother with preparation this time. Instead he spread Spock's legs open again, his fingers grasping Spock's buttocks apart while he situated himself between them and rubbed the head of his penis through the slippery mixture of lubricant and semen. "You open enough for this?"

"Yes." Spock turned his head to the side and shut his eyes as he waited for the firm push, the strange but gratifying fullness. Something about Jim watching him respond was overwhelming.

"Don't." A sweaty hand seized his chin and tugged his face up again. "Look at me." Only when Spock complied did the blunt, slick tip of Jim's erection breach him for the third time that night. He moaned reflexively and lifted his hips, a bystander in a body driven by animal instinct, exhausted beyond the point of shame or hesitation. He managed to tuck one leg around Jim's waist, but it made no difference; Jim worked into him exactly as he had the first time, with teasing, shallow thrusts that deepened all too slow.

It was fascinating, how easily his body had moved from tolerating to craving penetration. He was not ignorant regarding such varieties of human sexual behavior, but nothing in his studies had prepared him for this. Neither had the first, tingling hint that such a place could be an erogenous area warned him sufficiently for the intensity of the experience. When Jim's hips met his thighs at last, he shook with it.

"Can you do it again?" Jim said between ragged breaths. He rocked harder, brushing unerringly against Spock's prostate. "Come just from this?"

"I… I am uncertain."

"I think you can." Jim's voice was firm with determination. He paused for a moment, seemingly to catch his breath, but then he took Spock's wrists and guided them above his head. "Stay here, just like this." He waited until Spock nodded to proceed.

They moved together now with the same rhythm they had on the dance floor, but more artless and effortless and intimate. Spock's entire person was damp with Jim's sweat, his chest and stomach sticky with their mingled ejaculate, his lips wet with saliva. All of his senses were unreliable, corrupted by the white noise of uncontrolled variables. He ached and burned, and yet he did not want to cease moving. He was beginning to understand the appeal of hedonism.

His fingers closed around the headboard for leverage, and he tightened his grip, fighting the temptation to take himself in hand. His thighs trembled as he mindlessly shoved back to meet Jim's thrusts, all sensation in his body narrowed to that single point inside of him that made him cry out each time it was touched. The illusion of a direct neural connection between his prostate and his erection cast doubt on his anatomical knowledge. Finally, the steady tension that shortened his breath wavered and coalesced into small, involuntary muscle convulsions. They started somewhere he could not pinpoint, buried within him, and rippled outward, growing stronger as they went.

"That's it," Jim panted. "Almost there, aren't you?"

Spock didn't have time to state the affirmative before he peaked.

At first there was more pain than pleasure, such that he almost balked and shied away at the last possible instant. But Jim murmured something soft and filthy and almost unintelligible against his ear, all the while keeping up the relentless strokes within him, and so he dug his heel into Jim's back and let orgasm drag him under.

He caught Jim up in the telepathic tide that spilled out from his skin. Jim's hips snapped forward and jerked unevenly, and his head tipped onto Spock's shoulder. The sound of his long, helpless groan gave Spock one last burst of pleasure before he spent himself completely. Spock let go of the headboard to caress Jim's hair until he also fell still.

Jim rolled off of Spock a few seconds after his own release and sprawled out beside him, gasping with exertion, probably overheated. Spock watched in vague amusement as Jim engaged the sheets that were tangled around his feet in a brief but passionate struggle before kicking them off the bed.

Silence for one point three minutes. The ringing in Spock's ears returned, although lessened somewhat. It would be gone in a few hours, but the tenderness in certain parts of his anatomy would not. That reminder of their activities would be more appreciated.

"Okay. I'm officially tapped out." Jim announced weakly, and turned on his side to throw an arm over Spock's waist. "Well, I could suck you again if you wanted, but I might fall asleep halfway through."

Spock attempted to restrict the blood flow to his face before he realized that the room was too dim for either of them to discern minute changes in skin color. "That won't be necessary."

"Even Vulcans have their limits, huh?"

"I do not find myself eager for further exploration of that hypothesis at this time."

"Can't say I blame you." Jim suddenly levered himself up on an elbow and studied Spock with approximately the same look he favored upon initial penetration. "Never seen someone come so many times before."

Spock's only response was to part his lips in the invitation Jim was probably seeking. Kissing in the human fashion was a skill he was determined to master, and logic dictated that practice was an essential component of this goal. Jim smiled and started to lean over him, but then stopped halfway and frowned at a point above Spock's head.

"Uh…" he seemed unable to articulate himself further, so Spock twisted around to follow his gaze.

The metal bar of the headboard was bent absurdly out of shape, bowed outward and wrenched down from its original linear position. Faint, finger-sized depressions dimpled the surface and cracked the black paint. "Oh." Spock could think of nothing else to say.

Jim adopted a contemplative posture, propping his chin up on his hand as he shot Spock a fond look. "Definitely not a boring lump."