An answer to a challenge issued to me by another reader from a different K/S forum. Hope you all enjoy as well.
Happy birthday to me...happy birhday to me. Jim checked out his ass in the mirror, Happy birthday, Mr. Cap-tain...He released a sigh and let his shoulders slump. This really wasn't as much fun as it used to be when he'd been alone in his dorm room at the Academy. Glaring at the vibrating dildo in his left hand, he turned and headed for his desk. Yes, it was his birthday and yes, Bones had gotten him this awesome gift—knowing how badly Jim needed to unwind and being very, if unhappily, aware of his Captain's most unorthodox fetish...
It was just...being a Captain of a Federation Constitution Class Starship didn't leave a lot of room for unwinding and he was having a hard time letting go. He couldn't stop thinking about the ship, among other things...and people...one in particular, really, and the urge to check in—as he did on every other off duty rotation—was so overwhelming that he'd caught himself reaching for the comm buzzer on his desk more than once...hell, more than two or three times. Gods, and he wanted to let it go, he really did...he needed this with every fiber of his being and yet...every time he tried to get into his own fantasy he'd think he heard a buzz at the door (actually, he'd heard the buzzer go off for real a couple times and ignored it. How the hell was he supposed to answer the door wearing this?), he'd get the feeling he was being watched or worse he'd start to wonder...what would Spock think?
Jim flopped himself down into the chair behind his desk and picked up the second part of McCoy's gift, a blue swirling liquid in a red bulbous bottle. Good 'ol Romulan Ale, just what the doctor ordered, literally. Maybe he just needed to loosen up a bit more...a good buzz never failed to help him change the direction of his blood flow.
As illogical as it was to garner great import and fanfare around the day of one's birth, James T. Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise—Spock's commanding officer and admitted friend, was human and humans celebrated these things. This was rather unfortunate in Spock's opinion, since Jim had indeed chosen his birth date as this week's off duty rotation. On any typical given week, Kirk's off day would be the sixth day of the schedule, a Terran Friday, however, today was not Friday. Today was Monday. The second day of the rotation week and while Spock accepted the illogic of birthday celebrations among humans, it did not mean that he had to like it, especially where it concerned the monopolization of the Captain's time.
More specifically, Spock disliked that this particular human custom because it was, at the moment, disrupting his ability to assign personnel to specific tasks regarding their next mission. It was crucial that these assignments be made by the end of the day's shift, otherwise those chosen to participate in the away mission would not be notified of their duties until Tuesday (tomorrow) and will subsequently be unprepared for the mission on Wednesday.
Captain Kirk's signature was required for all assigned personnel and while Spock knew Jim would likely tell him that he trusts his First Officer's better judgement, he refused to forge the Captain's signature on anything. At the same time, he really did need to have these signed. Of course, it didn't help Spock's decision that Dr. McCoy had threatened dismemberment should he do anything to disturb the Captain on his day off.
"Damn it, Spock!" The doctor had yelled when Spock had inquired after Jim's location, "Can't the man have a one goddamned day without you hackling him for some piece of paperwork? It's one day, hobgoblin! Don't bother him, or so help me, I'll shove you out an airlock—in pieces!"
Spock had, of course, thought to stop by the Captain's quarters to see if he were there before trying sickbay, but the doors were locked and he did not receive an answer when he buzzed. He did not want to use his override codes unless it was strictly necessary, however now that he knew Jim had blatantly disregarded his summons when Spock buzzed earlier—had, in fact, chosen to ignore him in favor of whatever personal rituals his birthday involved—was enough to piqué Spock's highly unVulcan annoyance. Especially after enduring the doctor's half-hour long lecture on the effects of logic on Vulcan insensitivity and the merits of human emotional intelligence. Spock considered that his level of sensitivity to other species was apparent in the fact that he consistently refrained from tossing McCoy into a bulk head on a daily basis.
He tried to bite back some of his annoyance as he came to stand, once again, in front of Jim's door. Patiently, calmly, he placed his hand over the sensor and allowed Jim a precise forty-five seconds to respond. When no answer was forthcoming, he raised his hand once more and buzzed again only to be ignored yet again. Spock attempted to push aside the flash of hurt that Jim's snub was causing to well up from within. Birthdays, to Spock's understanding, which had been imparted upon him by his own human mother, were supposed to be spent in the company of friends and family. Even though he was technically attempting to seek Jim out for official business, Spock thought of the Captain as a friend and he had been planning to ask the Captain to dinner in order to give Jim a gift in celebration of this highly illogical human custom.
To think that Jim would not spare him so much as an approximate two point four minutes of his time—would go out of his way to avoid him—was...a very unpleasant thought indeed. Spock pushed the negative assumptions aside. It was not like Jim to avoid him. In fact, the Captain usually went out of his way in order to spend as much time with Spock, both on duty and off, as possible. This was a fact in which the Vulcan took much pleasure, for he too desired Jim's company whenever feasible. Spock reasoned internally that it would therefore be illogical of the Captain to purposely ignore him.
Perhaps Jim is simply disregarding all communiqués in favor of solitude...or, his thoughts took another road entirely, perhaps Jim had over indulged in spirits and fallen, knocking himself unconscious and therefore rendering him incapable of admitting Spock, or anyone else, into his quarters? Feeling worried now, rather than angry or inquisitive, Spock keyed in his override code. What he found on the other side of the parting entrance was so shocking that it momentarily robbed him of all thought and motor function.
"Fuck!" Jim spun around at the sound of his doors opening and closing, only to find himself frozen like a statue as he came face to face with his wide-eyed and slack jawed, Vulcan First Officer. "Sp-Spock," he sputtered after a beat, eyes darting around the room for some kind of cover—a robe, a blanket, a god damned t-shirt, fuck, anything! The closet, with its wide open door, was the nearest safe haven he could think of and he dove straight into it, peaking his head out from behind the half-shut barrier, "I...I can explain." What was there to explain?
He'd just been caught preening in front of a full-length mirror wearing a black, lace two piece bustier, -matching thigh-high stockings, six inch heels and holding a vibrating, rotating dildo; A dildo he now realized, he had dropped in plain view—double fuck with sprinkles!
By the time Spock realized that what he had just witnessed was indeed not a momentary manifestation of all his wildest fantasies, his penis was pushing uncomfortably against the rim of his Starfleet standard issue undergarments. Having finally regained the ability to move, Spock crossed to where Jim had been standing in front of the mirror, his eyes fixed on the silicone phallus that now lay abandoned on the floor. "I believe explanations are unnecessary in this instance," he managed to say, his voice betraying nothing of his internal struggle for control. He picked up the artificial human penis, touching and groping it experimentally for a moment. "I believe these types of instruments have a very limited category of usage."
Jim could do nothing but watch as Spock handled his prized toy, touching...petting...squeezing... He was instantly hard, the rosy head of his dick peeking out from the leather band of his lacy, sheer bikini-thong bottoms. Jim swallowed around the tension knot in his throat. "Could you...not play with that...please," he managed around clenched teeth, his cheeks burning so hot they could start a forest fire.
Spock's eyes leveled on his own then, and Jim could see the intent written in the Vulcan's face as graceful feet carried his First Officer ever nearer to his hideout, tossing the dildo unceremoniously over his shoulder. "Spock, stop. Don't come any closer. I mean it, Commander!"
"Captain," Spock returned predatorily, "I have already seen what you are attempting to hide, quite amateurishly, within the confines of your closet."
"Amateur?" Jim spat indignantly, his ire ignited and he stepped around the closet door proudly, gesturing to himself as he asked, "Just what the hell would you know...about any of this?"
Spock seized Jim's hips with an 'oomph,' lining the human's body to his own from toe to groin, "I am knowledgeable enough to know that anyone courageous enough to adorn themselves in attire such as this does not hide from the appraising gaze of a captured audience."
"Cap..." Jim tilted his head in disbelief, "Captured audience?" Was Spock...did he...? "You actually like it?"
"You are referring to the outfit as a whole or the fact that it is you who is wearing it?" Spock countered, pushing Jim against the wall with no small amount of force. He ground his erection against Jim's inner thigh while his hands trailed up smooth abdominal muscles until they finally reached the sheer, black stretch of lacy fabric that was Jim's bustier. His thumbs gently circled the just visible areoles of Jim's pert, rosy nipples. "In truth, it is both."
Jim's eyes rolled up and he allowed his lids to shudder in euphoria, disbelieving almost that this was actually happening and swept away by the fact that, yeah—it totally was and that fuck yeah, this was his favorite birthday ever. "Oh God..." Jim answered Spock's grinding with some Grade-A rutting of his own, "If I'm dreaming, don't ever fucking wake me up..."
Whatever else Jim might have said to encourage the hot and hard Vulcan pressed so tantalizingly against him was cut short by alien lips and tongue seeking entrance to his own salivating mouth. Then, the actual glide of Spock's tongue against his own made him itch all over with a need to discard every piece of fabric between them—no matter how little of it existed—push Spock toward the bed and fuck himself on the long, thick cock he could feel through the Vulcan's uniform. "Bed..." he managed to pant.
"I find I am quite incapable of releasing you for even the scant point eight minutes it would take us to get there..." Spock yanked them away from the wall, turning them until they were both in the closet and banging up against the back wall with such force that the front rack which held all of Jim's clothes clattered to the floor in a heap. Spock kicked it out into the sitting room with the back of his booted foot.
Jim licked his lips, "You're explaining that one to Scotty—not me."
"I care not," Spock insisted, pulling Jim's hands above his head and curling them around the one remaining clothing rod. He stood back to admire Jim's appearance one more time as he shed his own clothes. Heated eyes slowly traversed upward from the six-inch stilettos, paper thin lace that tracked up smooth, muscular calves until it gave way to a bare expanse of thigh. The fabric of Jim's sparse panties—for that is what they were—left very little to the imagination. The rosy, leaking head of the human's penis was just visible over the tight leather band of the garment, the rest of the material stretched taught over the shaft and hugging tenderly at a heavy sack.
A mix of soft colors in his peripheral suddenly caught his attention and he turned his head to see a plethora of multicolored dress ties, hanging in front of two zipped up suit bags. Spock's hand reached out to touch the fabric: silk. Quirking a brow, he pulled four of them from their hanger and bent to his task.
Jim, confused by Spock's sudden fascination with business attire, regarded the Vulcan curiously, "What are you doing?"
"'Inspiration has struck,' I believe is what humans would say..." Spock replied vaguely as he tied the final knot and held up his work for inspection.
Jim stared at his silk ties, two of which were his favorite, and what his inspired Vulcan had done to them. They had been tied into two circles, and before he could ask what the hell Spock was planning to do, now that he'd basically ruined Jim's favorite ties, his First Officer turned and hung them each on the coat hooks which jutted out from the opposite sides of the doors. His eyes widened as understanding dawned and his waning erection was suddenly back with a vengeance. It would be a hell of a stretch, but Jim was more than up for the challenge.
"Jim," Spock was finally looking at him again, eyes intense and openly eager. "Return your hands to the rail."
Jim licked his lips and complied, then, before Spock could ask it of him, he leaned back and lifted his left leg, the stiletto heel brushing against the outside of the Vulcan's thigh teasingly. Spock gripped it by the ankle and gently pulled it toward the tie hanging on the left of the closet's entrance. With his free hand, Spock twisted the ties twice then slipped Jim's heeled foot into the hole. Jim had to pull himself up on the rail to avoid losing his balance before Spock bent to grip his other ankle and fit it into the ties on the opposite side.
When he was finished, Jim was gripping the rail, his body hanging in mid air as his legs were spread open between the open door, putting his now painfully wanton hole on clear display. Spock was starting right at it from his position between Jim's legs, his eyes blazing a path over the exposed rectum, his perineum, the hanging sack of testicles and his hard, leaking cock. Finally, Spock's hands were on him, feeling their way up from Jim's stocking-covered ankles, until they slid beneath his buttocks and squeezed, pulling Jim forward as Spock bent his head and engulfed Jim's lace covered sack in warm, wet heat, a long, agile tongue swirling over his aching balls in dizzying circles.
It was too much...after wanting this for so long, after fearing Spock's reaction to having caught him cross-dressing and only to find that his stoic, upright First Officer was kinkier than shit, that Jim in drag apparently turned him on like a fucking light...Jim beheld the vision of Spock's mouth sliding up his shaft and his body began to shake in need. It was barely not enough...the fabric dulling the sensation just the right amount that when Spock's tongue flicked into the uncovered slit of his cock, he hadn't expected the jolt of sharp sensation that spiraled throughout his entire being and he nearly forgot to hold onto the rail as he cried out with a dry, wanton sob.
"F—Fuck!" Jim bucked into the air, his heels thudding against the wall as Spock's mouth moved lower, his tongue prodding teasingly at his exposed hole, the sensation only just apparent through the sheer cloth covering it. He wanted to touch, wanted to grab Spock's head and kiss him senseless, taste his own essence on the Vulcan's tongue. "Please...please," he begged, wiggling desperately against Spock's maddening mouth.
"Please, what, Jim?" Spock asked, his calm veneer betrayed by an unmistakable huskiness.
Jim's hips were undulating, fucking the air above him as he threw his head back against the wall and groaned, "Fuck me, Spock...please, just—just fuck me already! I can't...can't take it...so fucking hot...fuck me...fuck me... please..." With every word, each upward thrust of his hips became more urgent and when Spock straightened and gripped his thighs, Jim dug his heels into the wall to gain enough purchase to rub his lacy sack against Spock's jutting erection. It worked, sure, but his heels also pierced the drywall of his closet and their actions momentarily paused as they both looked at Jim's feet where two six inch heels were embedded to the hilt on either side of the doorway.
When their eyes met again, something clicked between them and Spock ripped Jim's underwear away, shredding leather and lace like so much paper, before swallowing the newly freed penis until it met with the back of a hot, constricting throat. "OH!" Jim screamed in rapture, using his new leverage to fuck up into Spock's open, willing mouth. With more focus than he knew he was capable of, Jim tightened his left hand's grip on the rail and reached out for a shelf with his right hand to grab one of the bottles of lube he kept there, and held it out for Spock. It was snatched from his hand and minutes later, he felt not one, but two slick fingers circling and probing at his entrance as Spock spread the jelly all over his ass all the while sucking and licking on Jim's pole.
Those two fingers stabbed into him in one slick, fluid motion and he thrust his hips forward, a move that would have chocked anyone else, but Spock's throat merely accepted the intrusion and Jim wanted to get on his knees and thank every deity referenced in history for the Vulcan's ability to control his gag reflex. It went on like that for what seemed like hours, as Jim thrust upward into wet, sucking heat and downward on to two, three, four fingers that scissored, twisted and hooked until finally Spock pulled away, his mouth leaving Jim's cock with a slurp and a pop, sending the head of his penis to slap wetly against his abdomen. "Yes...yes..." Jim gasped when Spock seized his hips and lined up.
Spock pushed into Jim's ass in one long, powerful thrust and Jim imagined what the Vulcan must look like from behind at that moment. His knees would be slightly bent and his ass clenching with every thrust up into Jim's hole over and over at a fast, frantic pace that had both of them panting and writhing. Jim had another fleeting thought that this was, once again, the best birthday he'd ever had, but apparently it wasn't fleeting enough for sex with a touch telepath. Spock slowed his thrusts just then and bent forward to gather Jim into his arms, which was a good thing considering his biceps and forearms were screaming in agony at this point. They fell around Spock's neck in relief as he moved them backward until Jim's shoulders were pressed against the back wall, effectively pulling his ankles free of their confines and dislodging his heels from the drywall.
The Vulcan seized his lips in a tender, slow kiss before he began moving once more, long strokes this time that glided slowly and gloriously in and out, massaging the ring of Jim's hole with every pull and push, the head of Spock's cock just grazing over that bundle of nerves over and over in an agonizingly delicious tease. When Spock pulled his mouth away and pressed their foreheads together, it took Jim a few minutes to realize that the Vulcan was singing...in perfect tempo with their fucking.
"Happy," thrust, "birth," thrust, "day," thrust, "to you," thrust...thrust. "Happy," push, "birth" pull, "day," push...push...pull, "to you."
"Oh my God," Jim would have laughed out right if he could've stopped panting and heaving for just one second, but he couldn't. It felt so good that the absurdity was completely lost on him and all he could do was smile dumbly with all the mushy feelings Spock usually brought out in him.
"Happy birthday," Spock sang, pushing in with force, "Mister Cap-tain," he shoved in again, with a swirl of his hips, hammering on Jim's prostate and making his legs shake with strain.
"God, if I didn't know it before—OH!—" Jim shouted as Spock once again picked up the pace, his cock pistoning in and out of Jim with fierce, animalistic abandon.
"Tell me, Jim..." Spock's haggard whisper tickled against Jim's ear. "Tell me how good it feels to have my phallus inside of you."
He would deny it later, of course, but James T. Kirk, intergalactic stud muffin actually whimpered at those words; spoken by a man whose persona had been party to countless wet dreams since the beginning of their association. A man who, in Jim's opinion was the definition of honor, professionalism, grace and ethic. To hear Spock...to see him so utterly debauched...to know that he was the cause...was enough to make him want to weep with joy. If Spock wanted some dirty talk, Jim would damn well give it to him.
"Oh Gods, Spock...you feel so fucking good...so long...hard...I want...I want to feel you come inside of me..." Jim let out another moan as Spock hefted his shoulders a bit higher up the wall to adjust the angle. His prostate was now receiving the blunt end of Spock's dick with every inward push."Fuck! God! Oh...oh please, touch me..." he was referring, of course, to his almost purple cock which was flopping between them looking for some kind of affection—anything, really.
The little half-smile that slid over the Vulcan's lips was sultry and solicitous all at once, "As you wish." When Spock's strong palm and narrow finger closed around his organ in a luxurious pull, his vision may have actually blurred. Jim risked his precarious position, balanced between Spock's rolling hips and the wall, to reach behind that black cap of hair and pull those alien lips back to his own. The taste of Spock, the warm hand around his cock and the hard, pumping shaft taking him against the wall of his closet sent him over the edge and he came with a wrenching groan. Thick ropes of semen shot up between them, so long had the pressure been building, that it hit both of them in the chin.
Immediately after, Spock stiffened and Jim felt the heat of his release spray against the back of his inner channel. They collapsed backward against the wall, both gasping at the separation as Spock's penis slipped from Jim's body, the closet filled with the echo of their rampant breaths. Suddenly overcome, Jim tightened his arms around Spock's neck and hugged the Vulcan to him with all his might. Spock wordlessly returned his embrace and they stood like that—naked, sticky and clinging to one another—for what seemed like an eternity before Spock pulled away slightly to meet Jim's half-lidded gaze, "Come."
Jim allowed himself to be led to the shower by the hand, allowed Spock to undress him completely and pull him into a sonic where he then allowed himself to be washed and cared for with a tenderness he'd never before experienced. By the time they were finished, Jim was half-asleep on his feet and Spock actually didn't appear to be faring much better but that didn't prevent the Vulcan from lifting his Captain into his arms and carrying him to the bed.
It took Jim several more minutes and a hot body pressed against his back to realize that Spock had every intention of sharing his bed for the night. Never one to question the fates when things were going his way, Jim turned into the body of his friend and now...maybe, just maybe, he could call Spock lover?
"Jim," Spock's voice had returned to its usual measured timbre, "may I make a personal inquiry?"
Jim yawned and tightened his arm around Spock's midsection slightly, "Sure."
"When I entered your cabin earlier..." he seemed to fight for the appropriate words, "why were you dressed in such a way?"
With a sigh, Jim propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at those beautiful brown eyes, open and inquiring, just one last time before the Vulcan fled in disgust. He swallowed a little, nervous, "I...I know this will sound crazy to you, but sometimes I...I mean, on rare occasions I sometimes want to..." He looked away, flushed, "I just want to feel...sexy...in-in a way that pajama pants and men's underwear can't accomplish."
Spock tilted his head, "It is...something you do to reach a higher rate of pleasure during manual stimulation?"
Embarrassed and feeling rather vulnerable at having divulged his dirtiest, longest held secret to the single most important being in his life, Jim simply nodded. His eyes were pricking as he awaited the Vulcan's judgement and ultimately his departure.
"Was it not...more pleasurable shared with a partner?" Spock inquired as he shifted onto his side in order to mirror Jims position, forcing the human to look at him. He patiently waited for an answer.
Jim glanced at him for a fraction of a second before finally quietly admitting, "It was." When Spock pulled him closer and pressed a series of kisses to his temple and forehead, Jim sighed in relief.
"Then...you would not mind repeating it with me in future?"
The answer to that question came in the form of Jim's most dazzling smile and a fervently whispered, "Spock."
As they drifted off together, content and sated in one another's arms, Jim pictured what his next outfit might look like—maybe something in science blue.