This is a smutty oneshot because I like sex and boys. I also don't own Star Trek. (Just an FYI).
The captain's chair is empty, but the room is not. Two men stand silently, licking their soft, pink lips in a frenzy of boyish excitement.
"One night," whispers the first man. He is nearly invisible behind the dark crease of space: the only light comes from a distant star, which sends a glowing ribbon of brilliance down the slick of his hair. "One night of freedom."
"Don't think you're getting this again," laughs the second man, inching slowly towards the first. "We're only doing this because-"
"-because you're bored? Because Spock likes to bottom?"
The second man flashes red, embarrassed by this clever stranger. Of course, this stranger was once a much more strange and mysterious man. A week ago, he had been nothing more than a name: John, John Harrison. Today, he is no longer a name: he is a body, slender and tall, masked by a wily head of curls. He is a pair of eyes, so luminescent that they slice through men like butter. He is Khan, the great Khan, and right now, he is naked. He is naked, vulnerable, and frosted with the dark chill of potential energy.
Jim Kirk advances towards Khan, the palms of his hands open and warm. Likewise, Khan advances towards Kirk, until the two separates have enveloped one-another in a whole. Kirk buries his fingernails in Khan's buoyant mane, crumbling under the crisp tongue of his seductress. Khan follows suit, allowing his spidery fingers to curl along the ridges of Kirk's firm buttocks.
Kirk smiles, pulling his tongue away as he pushes Khan towards the soft, white leather of the captain's chair. "You like this," purses Khan, rolling onto the captain's chair as Kirk begins to climb atop him. "You like it very much."
"I don't like you," purrs Kirk between kisses, licking the silver of Khan's neck. "You're a criminal. A dirty, dirty criminal."
"Is that what you tell Spock when he misbehaves?" Khan is thrusting his penis out now, beckoning for Kirk to grab its erect frame like he grabs the joysticks on his ship. "Fly me. Fly me like the USS Enterprise."
Kirk slides the folds of his gentle anus over the penis, eagerly anticipating a flood of cum to rush up his ass. He grunts, vibrating atop Khan like the Enterprise in a meteor belt. However, compared to a meteor, Khan is much, much harder.
Khan pulls Kirk close and buckles the pair into the seat, locked as one. He is straddled between the curl of Kirk's tongue and the arch of the seat, which he sets to slowly recline. At once, Kirk begins to climb further atop his man, while maintaining the anal connection of the two. Imagining that Khan is, indeed, a starship, he glides across the smooth surface of his sky with the pink of his lips.
"I want you so bad," groans Kirk. "I don't give a fuck what you've done. I just want you to do me."
"Say my name," Khan ooo's. "Say my name, Jim Kirk."
"Khan." Kirk is biting Khan's neck now, groping at his toned, white muscles. "You're Khan." Khan's cock is throbbing under the weight and pressure of Kirk's beauty, and he begins to cum.
Kirk is sucking, licking, darting, plunging, and flicking simultaneously. He sucks each once of flesh on Khan's body with the intensity of a true starship captain. He swirls his tongue, to which Khan swirls back, as if the two have discovered a secret language without words.
Khan moves his hands to Kirk's nipples and begins to squeeze them like two firm balls. Kirk's ice-blue eyes spark wide open, devious with delight and desire.
If Kirk could freeze this moment, he would bottle it forever in a capsule, the same capsules Khan had come from. He would freeze the delicacy of Khan, the simplicity of this frighteningly dangerous man. Although both Kirk and Khan were two men fighting on different sides of a war, together, they were an entirely new nation. They were a symbiotic machine.
"I love you," says Kirk with absolute honesty as the sun begins to break over the horizon (of space, mind you). "I never want to let you go."
Khan pulls away, slowly and quietly. Normally, he would try to escape at a time like this, but his passion for Kirk keeps him locked to the chair, a willing prisoner. "Tomorrow night," he coos. "We'll go again."
Khan and Kirk scurry like schoolboys to their quarters: Khan, to his cell, and Kirk, to his room. Never has Kirk ever seen a prisoner so willing to submit his body, and yet, Kirk has never been so erotically connected to another man. If Khan's trial goes correctly, he will be free in two weeks. He will be free to fuck Kirk for days on end.
As Kirk opens his door, a spiral of light frames his nude cock. It is still heavy, and his anus stings with the lost promise of Khan's return.
"Spock will never know," laughs Kirk as he slips on the cotton of his jumpsuit. "Spock will never know."