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commotiocordisLOOK IT'S ANOTHER FIC.
I've entitled this baby "Relief", not because it particularly has anything to do with the fic (as this is 99% PWP), but because I wrote it for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ontd_startrek Party Post on 15-16 January 2009 while we were raising money for the UNICEF and the relief efforts in Haiti (and the vague mentions of other-than-sexing it does have refer to the Enterprise being sent on a disaster relief mission that I envisioned similar to the work that's going on down there right now). If you happen to see this while it's still going on, check out http://tinyurl.com/trek4haiti and consider chipping in a few dollars.
I decided to repost the whole thing instead of just the final part or two chopped up because the first two parts weren't able to be commented on since we MAXED OUT THE PARTY POST IN 4 HOURS GODDAMN. To recap, this is:
Relief
Fandom: Star Trek (reboot)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17 pornpornporn
Notes: Wrote this amidst comment spamming on the party post and with (still) very little sleep, so. . . this fic got 99 problems but a plot ain't one. (Yea-uh, Geordi!) Also, the dirty talk in Vulcan? Mouse over for the translation. If you actually click on the Vulcan, bonus pictures of Pinto.
Spock looked both ways before timidly ringing the chime to the captain's quarters. Normally, such an action would be of no consequence; the first officer bringing a ship's issue to wherever his captain might be after hours was something to be expected in the well-run Starfleet vessel. Still, the Vulcan fought to keep his hands still; feeling his purpose at the door was far too evident to every passing crewman, his paranoia saw suspecting depths behind every subordinate’s respectful nod. The tension of the past week’s efforts had been not inconsiderable, however, and despite the Vulcan’s—he would strenuously object to the use of the word, but the sentiment was close—worry, most were so enveloped in their own pursuits after days of strenuous work that even had Spock been holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers while calling at the captain’s door, no one would have paid mind.
His outward demeanor was carefully schooled to betray nothing, and when a cheerful voice responded “Come!” to his request for entry, the science officer was through the door and standing before Kirk’s desk before the captain had a chance to look up. “Spock,” the commanding officer set down the data PADD that had held his attention before it was stolen by the alien before him. “I had been wondering if you would be coming by tonight.”
“I had wondered myself,” Spock admitted. “After our discussion over dinner last week and its rather abrupt conclusion forced by the missive regarding our new orders to aid in the relief efforts, I wasn’t sure if it would be. . . appropriate.”
“The moment having passed,” Kirk finished for him. Spock nodded in response. “And yet you are here?” He pushed his chair out from behind him and rose, moving to the side of the desk and hopping to seat himself on the corner of it, his legs hanging over the edge just millimeters from the burning heat of Spock’s.
The Vulcan suppressed a shudder when Kirk’s eyes locked with his. “That is indeed an accurate analysis of my current location,” he said, eyes stealing to the ground to avoid the piercing light blue of the man who, he was certain, had intentionally somehow shifted himself the distance to casually rest his dangling calf against the outside of the Vulcan’s thigh.
“Oh, come on, Spock,” Kirk said amiably, though a waver in his slightly-too-jocular voice betrayed his own nervousness to keen pointed ears. “I bear my heart to you over one of the most delicious dinners that I’ve ever slaved over a replicator to produce, and after we were most inopportunely interrupted by Admiral Barnett and the honorably altruistic duty of relief work—but believe me, I don’t resent that for a moment—the first day out of orbit you show up in front of me and all you have to say is some damnably logical analysis of your *location*?”
Through his smile, the frustration in Kirk’s voice that crept into the end of his incredulous question was evident to Spock, which the Vulcan found . . . endearing. He resisted the urge to reply pointing out that for his species, “damnably logical” would quite easily be taken as a compliment, for frustration was a mental condition—not emotion, he would later correct his captain, for otherwise he would surely never admit to it—that he was not unfamiliar with when James Kirk was concerned, beginning during his short tenure as captain during the Nerada incident and continuing well through every successive mission as his first officer. And though the base. . . condition remained, its exact nature had taken quite a different turn in the past week, since that dinner when Jim had confessed his attraction only to find them both called up to the bridge before Spock had a chance to process the admission, much less formulate a response of his own. Though his species was hardly as noted for its imaginations as Humans themselves, the first officer had continually found his mind preoccupied with thoughts of how he would have responded, how things might have progressed that evening had it been *allowed* to progress to its (he blinked thrice in rapid succession at the prospect) conclusion.
Spock looked up, seeing questioning uncertainty in the usually bravado-filled electric blue eyes, and quirked an eyebrow. Despite his initial hesitation, his mind had been made up well before he crossed the threshold into Kirk’s quarters—indeed, he had chosen his course of action before the pair had even made it to the bridge following their inconvenient summons, and with a step forward that placed himself squarely between the captain’s legs, he acted. Raising a hand to touch the man’s cheek, the Vulcan said “I apologize, Jim. Will this manner of response better suffice?”
Hot, green-blooded lips pressed to his commanding officer’s in the most logically succinct, if belated, response to Kirk’s declaration of amorous intentions that Spock’s not-inconsiderable faculties could conceive. Kirk could only murmur his assent as the Vulcan’s tongue slid against his, hooking an ankle behind his standing first officer’s thighs to pull him closer into the crux of his legs where they were spread by his perch on the captain’s own desk. “Yes, Spock,” he finally moaned as the Vulcan moved his lips to the light evening stubble on Kirk’s jaw, nipping along the angle of the bone. “This will most certainly suffice.”
Reaching a hand around to slip beneath the waistband of Spock’s uniform and up his bare back, Kirk took the opportunity presented by Spock’s shivering gasp at the touch of Kirk’s comparatively-cold human fingers to his heated flesh to wrap his other leg around the science officer’s waist. Their hips now flush, Kirk found himself surprised by a sudden, yet smooth movement caused by Spock rocking up on his toes that ground the massive ridge in his uniform pants against the captain’s own. Though this was a moment Kirk had rehearsed different permutations of in his mind ever since he realized the true reason the Vulcan was able to get under his skin so, he wouldn’t deny a certain relief in the realization that the, ahem, *equipment* felt—at least through the far too many layers still separating them—reassuringly familiar. Pulling his lips back from where they’d only moments before recaptured Spock’s, he used his hand against the Vulcan’s back to lift the blue uniform shirt up and off of his lover’s body, tossing carelessly into one corner of the room. Kirk’s mouth turned to the now bare shoulders before him, running a tongue over Spock’s collarbone even as his hands dropped to the alien’s ass, hands pulling hips to grind again against his cock.
“Perhaps, Jim,” Spock began, Kirk finding himself unaccountably pleased at not only the first officer’s affectionate use of his first name but the waver in his voice that accompanied it as roving hands punctuated a slow grinding of their hips. “We should relocate these activities.”
“Are you asking me to take you to bed?” Kirk asked, nipping Spock’s neck affectionately.
Spock’s raised eyebrow in response was so attractive that Kirk couldn’t help but stifle whatever response Spock was planning to make with his tongue in the Vulcan’s mouth once more. Raising both eyebrows in what--had Kirk been in a position to see--he would have interpreted as the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug, Spock wrapped his arms more tightly around Kirk’s back and lifted the man bodily off of his desk, taking the few steps to the bedroom area without breaking contact of their bodies. “Thankfully, due to Starfleet’s efficiency in engineering the layout of officer quarters, I did not require directions,” he said wryly, in one movement stripping the sheets to the foot of the bed and dropping the captain rather unceremoniously atop the mattress. Kirk opened his mouth in mock protest, but the leonine almost-pounce of the Vulcan stretching out atop Kirk’s body and the predatory look in the half-naked alien’s intense stare caused him to instead close his eyes in a shudder of pleasure. The science officer made quick work of both the captain’s uniform top and pants, toeing off two pairs of shoes. A light sheen of sweat glistened on the blonde’s chest under him, and Spock couldn’t resist running the tip of his tongue from the hollow in Kirk’s neck down his sternum and across to tease a nipple.
“Spock,” Kirk moaned, thrusting upwards against his lover’s body when the fiery slide of the Vulcan’s bare stomach against his hardness wasn’t nearly enough sensation. Unable to get his hands to function properly at the clasp of Spock’s uniform pants, the last barrier between the solid member and where it was rocking slightly against Kirk’s naked thigh, the captain simply slid his hand past the waistband and took foreign-yet-familiar hot hardness into his palm. The alien’s cock was smoother and its heat was dryer than his own, years-past xenobiology courses bringing thoughts of desert environs and conserving moisture briefly to mind before a torrent of Vulcan he definitely hadn’t learned in any of his introductory languages courses spilled from Spock’s mouth. Pleased that he could elicit this kind of reaction from the stoic officer, Kirk squeezed again before Spock batted his hand away to unfasten the trousers himself with an almost reluctant look in his eye. The captain’s hands joined the science officer’s in pushing the pants over slim hips, the shifting of bodies required for Kirk’s hands to trail along the skin revealed by the quickly discarded pants bringing their cocks in alignment to dual gasps of pleasure.
They ground together like teenagers, Kirk reaching a hand down and grasping twin hardness to press them into greater friction against one another, before Spock pulled a knee up to either side of Kirk’s hips and pulled away with a shudder. “Jim,” he breathed, “We should—” his lover stole a quick kiss in the pause, hands stroking along lean muscled thighs, “How do you wish to proceed?”
“I didn’t have too much of an argument with how we *were* proceeding until you stopped,” Kirk replied, shooting his first officer a grin that the receiving party found irresistibly attractive. The blue of the captain’s eyes had darkened in his lust, but there was a considerate softness in them as he asked “Have you ever had sex with a male before?”
Spock shook his head unconcernedly. “Have you ever, with a different species?” It was Kirk’s turn to raise an eyebrow, an incredulous look on his face. Spock nodded in acquiescence—most reputations had some basis in fact, and he hadn’t really doubted that Kirk’s was among them. Still, he did suspect that most of his lover’s previous . . . conquests hadn’t had the honor of calling him their best friend for months now, building from the tentative alliance they had forged following the destruction of his home planet, nor the privilege of witnessing an almost timid James Kirk confessing deep personal attraction over dinner just a week prior—a personal attraction that Spock most certainly shared, if certain present urges focused him more shallowly on the physical, especially as Kirk’s low rumbling chuckle vibrated from their bodies’ every point of contact through him to his arousal. He kissed the man beneath him if only to stop the movement causing the human’s cock to brush against his ass before one of the sparks the sensation was shooting behind his eyes blinded him from the truly delectable tableau of disheveled Starfleet captain he was straddling.
After a moment, it was Kirk’s turn to pull his head away, tongue darting out for one final swipe across the scientist’s lower lip as he did so. “Still, never a Vulcan,” he said, interpreting Spock’s eyebrow-lift/head-incline combo response as a bemusedly sarcastic ‘I’m honored’. His hands ceased their stroking of the alien’s thighs only to brush teasingly across his buttocks on the way to the man’s lower back; a firmer touch on the return trip with the added bonus of a pinky slipping along his cleft, pressing just hard enough at the ring of muscle it passed to feel it spasm, caused Spock to verifiably squirm atop him. The motion brought turgid members into contact once more and Kirk took advantage of his lover’s seeking more complete contact by stretching out atop him to flip the pair, the fist he returned to grasp both of their thrusting arousals in hand stifling any protest Spock could have considered making. “So perhaps we should keep it simple, yeah?”
Spock moaned at the feel of his captain’s hand pressing the cooler cock to his own; the blonde’s thumb smoothing human pre-come over both their glans was a foreign sensation, years of desert evolution causing the Vulcan penis to reserve all ejaculate for the pinnacle moment rather than risk wasting any of the moisture that, for his ancestors—and indeed possibly their refugee descendants now—was a precious resource. It was remarkably alien: the glide of cool, hard human flesh across his own, facilitated by the sticky moisture lubricating the slide of the tips against each other and Kirk’s hand moving firmly across the entire bundle of pleasure, his strokes keeping time with the thrusting of their hips. Spock gasped “Aitlu abun t’du estuhl t'nash-veh ek'mu'yor” and “Jim!” and with a spiraling stroke of the captain’s hand that he made a mental note to request a more thorough examination of the mechanics of when he was considerably more coherent, and a tongue thrusting into his mouth from the human atop him in a counterpoint time to the movements of their hips, Spock was gasping his release into his lover’s mouth. Hot seed spilled on Kirk’s hand and cock that made the man arch his back, pushing himself harder against the Vulcan’s quaking form.
It was a long moment before Spock felt his mind begin to clear enough to focus on the jerky thrusting movements of his yet-unsatisfied lover stretched atop him, the movements of his hand now just on his own cock slicking the shaft with Vulcan come. The science officer pulled Kirk’s hand away, bringing it to his lips. Sucking one finger at a time into the heat of his mouth, green-tinged kiss swollen lips laved the captain’s hand, the flat of his tongue tasting himself as it scraped across the human’s palm. Kirk had a millisecond of warning from the glint in Spock’s eyes before the Vulcan reversed their positions again, rising to his knees astride his lover’s hips to free hands for stroking down the blonde’s sides as his mouth trailed up his right arm and across the smattering of light hairs on his chest. The sensation of the nip of Spock’s teeth at the underside of his right pectoral and the view of a dark-haired head he’d realized he’d come to admire well beyond friendly regard working its way slowly down his abdomen dueled for a moment in Kirk’s mind over which was more erotic, but though he had no idea what it meant, the deviously hungry look in his lover’s eyes as he growled “Dungi ru-tor abi’zhu-tor nash-veh shei tu” right before taking his painfully hard member into his hot mouth instantly overruled all competitors. Coherent thought or communication beyond inarticulate grunts and moaning Spock’s name was quickly beyond him as the Vulcan took the same care in cleaning his essence from his cock as he had with Kirk’s hand, the wet roughness of an alien tongue replacing the cooling stickiness he had stroked along his member. Long fingers swept up his inner thighs to dance at his hips before one accompanied Spock’s mouth at the base of Kirk’s cock, the other reaching underneath to cup the pendulous weight of his sac as the captain writhed beneath him. He had been so close before Spock’s mouth even touched him that it felt like mere seconds before the barest scrape of nails across his scrotum accompanied by the continued motion of his lover’s lips on his cock had him bucking into Spock’s mouth, the alien looking quite pleased with himself as he artfully coaxed Kirk’s seed into his throat.
Tongue switching to bare touches, soothing strokes as human flesh softened against his lips, Spock planted one final kiss on the angle of his lover’s hip before sliding up the bed to rest alongside him, hand splayed possessively across Kirk’s chest. “Wow,” Kirk said, opening his eyes for the first time since the tremors of orgasm had overtaken him. “Suffice was definitely an understatement.” He turned his head, planting a tender, yet enduring, kiss on the science officer’s lips only broken by the human’s sudden wide yawn. “Sorry. This week, you know?
Spock simply reached down and pulled the bed coverings from where they’d migrated to one corner up to cover the entwined pair. “Yet again, Jim, the crew of the Enterprise proves itself of remarkable self-sacrifice for those in need, hardly excepting her captain.”
Kirk was able to spot a similar heaviness in Spock’s eyelids and smiled, reaching an arm over to more fully embrace his new lover. “Nor her first officer.” Supremely content, he called for the lights to be lowered, fingers absently tracing patterns across the chest of the alien nestled into his shoulder. In only a few moments, the captain felt the Vulcan’s already-slower than human breathing even out, his face relaxed against Kirk’s naked shoulder. Pressing his lips to Spock’s forehead, he whispered “I meant what I said last week, you know. I’ve managed to fall in love with you.”
Not expecting a reply, Kirk closed his eyes. He fell asleep with a smile across his face when, moments before he slipped under, he heard his partner murmur in reply the one Vulcan word spoken that night he *did* recognize: “T’hy’la”.
Vulcan source: Mostly the STO Geekipedia’s language lessons (sigh. All of them) with added lessons on noun/verb extrapolation from https://webspace.utexas.edu/bighamds/LIN312/Files/Vulcan-intro.pdf . No lie, goddamn did I spend a long time learning way more about Vulcan grammar than I needed to for two sentences, especially because I decided I had to be all picky and accurate and not use the verb "blow" even though it was right there in front of me because I knew it didn't translate to the sexy kind that I wanted. Yeah, that's right, to the best of my several hours of work on this, that shit is accurate Vulcan dirty talk. What the fuck now, huh?
I've entitled this baby "Relief", not because it particularly has anything to do with the fic (as this is 99% PWP), but because I wrote it for the
ontd_startrek Party Post on 15-16 January 2009 while we were raising money for the UNICEF and the relief efforts in Haiti (and the vague mentions of other-than-sexing it does have refer to the Enterprise being sent on a disaster relief mission that I envisioned similar to the work that's going on down there right now). If you happen to see this while it's still going on, check out http://tinyurl.com/trek4haiti and consider chipping in a few dollars.I decided to repost the whole thing instead of just the final part or two chopped up because the first two parts weren't able to be commented on since we MAXED OUT THE PARTY POST IN 4 HOURS GODDAMN. To recap, this is:
Relief
Fandom: Star Trek (reboot)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17 pornpornporn
Notes: Wrote this amidst comment spamming on the party post and with (still) very little sleep, so. . . this fic got 99 problems but a plot ain't one. (Yea-uh, Geordi!) Also, the dirty talk in Vulcan? Mouse over for the translation. If you actually click on the Vulcan, bonus pictures of Pinto.
Spock looked both ways before timidly ringing the chime to the captain's quarters. Normally, such an action would be of no consequence; the first officer bringing a ship's issue to wherever his captain might be after hours was something to be expected in the well-run Starfleet vessel. Still, the Vulcan fought to keep his hands still; feeling his purpose at the door was far too evident to every passing crewman, his paranoia saw suspecting depths behind every subordinate’s respectful nod. The tension of the past week’s efforts had been not inconsiderable, however, and despite the Vulcan’s—he would strenuously object to the use of the word, but the sentiment was close—worry, most were so enveloped in their own pursuits after days of strenuous work that even had Spock been holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers while calling at the captain’s door, no one would have paid mind.
His outward demeanor was carefully schooled to betray nothing, and when a cheerful voice responded “Come!” to his request for entry, the science officer was through the door and standing before Kirk’s desk before the captain had a chance to look up. “Spock,” the commanding officer set down the data PADD that had held his attention before it was stolen by the alien before him. “I had been wondering if you would be coming by tonight.”
“I had wondered myself,” Spock admitted. “After our discussion over dinner last week and its rather abrupt conclusion forced by the missive regarding our new orders to aid in the relief efforts, I wasn’t sure if it would be. . . appropriate.”
“The moment having passed,” Kirk finished for him. Spock nodded in response. “And yet you are here?” He pushed his chair out from behind him and rose, moving to the side of the desk and hopping to seat himself on the corner of it, his legs hanging over the edge just millimeters from the burning heat of Spock’s.
The Vulcan suppressed a shudder when Kirk’s eyes locked with his. “That is indeed an accurate analysis of my current location,” he said, eyes stealing to the ground to avoid the piercing light blue of the man who, he was certain, had intentionally somehow shifted himself the distance to casually rest his dangling calf against the outside of the Vulcan’s thigh.
“Oh, come on, Spock,” Kirk said amiably, though a waver in his slightly-too-jocular voice betrayed his own nervousness to keen pointed ears. “I bear my heart to you over one of the most delicious dinners that I’ve ever slaved over a replicator to produce, and after we were most inopportunely interrupted by Admiral Barnett and the honorably altruistic duty of relief work—but believe me, I don’t resent that for a moment—the first day out of orbit you show up in front of me and all you have to say is some damnably logical analysis of your *location*?”
Through his smile, the frustration in Kirk’s voice that crept into the end of his incredulous question was evident to Spock, which the Vulcan found . . . endearing. He resisted the urge to reply pointing out that for his species, “damnably logical” would quite easily be taken as a compliment, for frustration was a mental condition—not emotion, he would later correct his captain, for otherwise he would surely never admit to it—that he was not unfamiliar with when James Kirk was concerned, beginning during his short tenure as captain during the Nerada incident and continuing well through every successive mission as his first officer. And though the base. . . condition remained, its exact nature had taken quite a different turn in the past week, since that dinner when Jim had confessed his attraction only to find them both called up to the bridge before Spock had a chance to process the admission, much less formulate a response of his own. Though his species was hardly as noted for its imaginations as Humans themselves, the first officer had continually found his mind preoccupied with thoughts of how he would have responded, how things might have progressed that evening had it been *allowed* to progress to its (he blinked thrice in rapid succession at the prospect) conclusion.
Spock looked up, seeing questioning uncertainty in the usually bravado-filled electric blue eyes, and quirked an eyebrow. Despite his initial hesitation, his mind had been made up well before he crossed the threshold into Kirk’s quarters—indeed, he had chosen his course of action before the pair had even made it to the bridge following their inconvenient summons, and with a step forward that placed himself squarely between the captain’s legs, he acted. Raising a hand to touch the man’s cheek, the Vulcan said “I apologize, Jim. Will this manner of response better suffice?”
Hot, green-blooded lips pressed to his commanding officer’s in the most logically succinct, if belated, response to Kirk’s declaration of amorous intentions that Spock’s not-inconsiderable faculties could conceive. Kirk could only murmur his assent as the Vulcan’s tongue slid against his, hooking an ankle behind his standing first officer’s thighs to pull him closer into the crux of his legs where they were spread by his perch on the captain’s own desk. “Yes, Spock,” he finally moaned as the Vulcan moved his lips to the light evening stubble on Kirk’s jaw, nipping along the angle of the bone. “This will most certainly suffice.”
Reaching a hand around to slip beneath the waistband of Spock’s uniform and up his bare back, Kirk took the opportunity presented by Spock’s shivering gasp at the touch of Kirk’s comparatively-cold human fingers to his heated flesh to wrap his other leg around the science officer’s waist. Their hips now flush, Kirk found himself surprised by a sudden, yet smooth movement caused by Spock rocking up on his toes that ground the massive ridge in his uniform pants against the captain’s own. Though this was a moment Kirk had rehearsed different permutations of in his mind ever since he realized the true reason the Vulcan was able to get under his skin so, he wouldn’t deny a certain relief in the realization that the, ahem, *equipment* felt—at least through the far too many layers still separating them—reassuringly familiar. Pulling his lips back from where they’d only moments before recaptured Spock’s, he used his hand against the Vulcan’s back to lift the blue uniform shirt up and off of his lover’s body, tossing carelessly into one corner of the room. Kirk’s mouth turned to the now bare shoulders before him, running a tongue over Spock’s collarbone even as his hands dropped to the alien’s ass, hands pulling hips to grind again against his cock.
“Perhaps, Jim,” Spock began, Kirk finding himself unaccountably pleased at not only the first officer’s affectionate use of his first name but the waver in his voice that accompanied it as roving hands punctuated a slow grinding of their hips. “We should relocate these activities.”
“Are you asking me to take you to bed?” Kirk asked, nipping Spock’s neck affectionately.
Spock’s raised eyebrow in response was so attractive that Kirk couldn’t help but stifle whatever response Spock was planning to make with his tongue in the Vulcan’s mouth once more. Raising both eyebrows in what--had Kirk been in a position to see--he would have interpreted as the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug, Spock wrapped his arms more tightly around Kirk’s back and lifted the man bodily off of his desk, taking the few steps to the bedroom area without breaking contact of their bodies. “Thankfully, due to Starfleet’s efficiency in engineering the layout of officer quarters, I did not require directions,” he said wryly, in one movement stripping the sheets to the foot of the bed and dropping the captain rather unceremoniously atop the mattress. Kirk opened his mouth in mock protest, but the leonine almost-pounce of the Vulcan stretching out atop Kirk’s body and the predatory look in the half-naked alien’s intense stare caused him to instead close his eyes in a shudder of pleasure. The science officer made quick work of both the captain’s uniform top and pants, toeing off two pairs of shoes. A light sheen of sweat glistened on the blonde’s chest under him, and Spock couldn’t resist running the tip of his tongue from the hollow in Kirk’s neck down his sternum and across to tease a nipple.
“Spock,” Kirk moaned, thrusting upwards against his lover’s body when the fiery slide of the Vulcan’s bare stomach against his hardness wasn’t nearly enough sensation. Unable to get his hands to function properly at the clasp of Spock’s uniform pants, the last barrier between the solid member and where it was rocking slightly against Kirk’s naked thigh, the captain simply slid his hand past the waistband and took foreign-yet-familiar hot hardness into his palm. The alien’s cock was smoother and its heat was dryer than his own, years-past xenobiology courses bringing thoughts of desert environs and conserving moisture briefly to mind before a torrent of Vulcan he definitely hadn’t learned in any of his introductory languages courses spilled from Spock’s mouth. Pleased that he could elicit this kind of reaction from the stoic officer, Kirk squeezed again before Spock batted his hand away to unfasten the trousers himself with an almost reluctant look in his eye. The captain’s hands joined the science officer’s in pushing the pants over slim hips, the shifting of bodies required for Kirk’s hands to trail along the skin revealed by the quickly discarded pants bringing their cocks in alignment to dual gasps of pleasure.
They ground together like teenagers, Kirk reaching a hand down and grasping twin hardness to press them into greater friction against one another, before Spock pulled a knee up to either side of Kirk’s hips and pulled away with a shudder. “Jim,” he breathed, “We should—” his lover stole a quick kiss in the pause, hands stroking along lean muscled thighs, “How do you wish to proceed?”
“I didn’t have too much of an argument with how we *were* proceeding until you stopped,” Kirk replied, shooting his first officer a grin that the receiving party found irresistibly attractive. The blue of the captain’s eyes had darkened in his lust, but there was a considerate softness in them as he asked “Have you ever had sex with a male before?”
Spock shook his head unconcernedly. “Have you ever, with a different species?” It was Kirk’s turn to raise an eyebrow, an incredulous look on his face. Spock nodded in acquiescence—most reputations had some basis in fact, and he hadn’t really doubted that Kirk’s was among them. Still, he did suspect that most of his lover’s previous . . . conquests hadn’t had the honor of calling him their best friend for months now, building from the tentative alliance they had forged following the destruction of his home planet, nor the privilege of witnessing an almost timid James Kirk confessing deep personal attraction over dinner just a week prior—a personal attraction that Spock most certainly shared, if certain present urges focused him more shallowly on the physical, especially as Kirk’s low rumbling chuckle vibrated from their bodies’ every point of contact through him to his arousal. He kissed the man beneath him if only to stop the movement causing the human’s cock to brush against his ass before one of the sparks the sensation was shooting behind his eyes blinded him from the truly delectable tableau of disheveled Starfleet captain he was straddling.
After a moment, it was Kirk’s turn to pull his head away, tongue darting out for one final swipe across the scientist’s lower lip as he did so. “Still, never a Vulcan,” he said, interpreting Spock’s eyebrow-lift/head-incline combo response as a bemusedly sarcastic ‘I’m honored’. His hands ceased their stroking of the alien’s thighs only to brush teasingly across his buttocks on the way to the man’s lower back; a firmer touch on the return trip with the added bonus of a pinky slipping along his cleft, pressing just hard enough at the ring of muscle it passed to feel it spasm, caused Spock to verifiably squirm atop him. The motion brought turgid members into contact once more and Kirk took advantage of his lover’s seeking more complete contact by stretching out atop him to flip the pair, the fist he returned to grasp both of their thrusting arousals in hand stifling any protest Spock could have considered making. “So perhaps we should keep it simple, yeah?”
Spock moaned at the feel of his captain’s hand pressing the cooler cock to his own; the blonde’s thumb smoothing human pre-come over both their glans was a foreign sensation, years of desert evolution causing the Vulcan penis to reserve all ejaculate for the pinnacle moment rather than risk wasting any of the moisture that, for his ancestors—and indeed possibly their refugee descendants now—was a precious resource. It was remarkably alien: the glide of cool, hard human flesh across his own, facilitated by the sticky moisture lubricating the slide of the tips against each other and Kirk’s hand moving firmly across the entire bundle of pleasure, his strokes keeping time with the thrusting of their hips. Spock gasped “Aitlu abun t’du estuhl t'nash-veh ek'mu'yor” and “Jim!” and with a spiraling stroke of the captain’s hand that he made a mental note to request a more thorough examination of the mechanics of when he was considerably more coherent, and a tongue thrusting into his mouth from the human atop him in a counterpoint time to the movements of their hips, Spock was gasping his release into his lover’s mouth. Hot seed spilled on Kirk’s hand and cock that made the man arch his back, pushing himself harder against the Vulcan’s quaking form.
It was a long moment before Spock felt his mind begin to clear enough to focus on the jerky thrusting movements of his yet-unsatisfied lover stretched atop him, the movements of his hand now just on his own cock slicking the shaft with Vulcan come. The science officer pulled Kirk’s hand away, bringing it to his lips. Sucking one finger at a time into the heat of his mouth, green-tinged kiss swollen lips laved the captain’s hand, the flat of his tongue tasting himself as it scraped across the human’s palm. Kirk had a millisecond of warning from the glint in Spock’s eyes before the Vulcan reversed their positions again, rising to his knees astride his lover’s hips to free hands for stroking down the blonde’s sides as his mouth trailed up his right arm and across the smattering of light hairs on his chest. The sensation of the nip of Spock’s teeth at the underside of his right pectoral and the view of a dark-haired head he’d realized he’d come to admire well beyond friendly regard working its way slowly down his abdomen dueled for a moment in Kirk’s mind over which was more erotic, but though he had no idea what it meant, the deviously hungry look in his lover’s eyes as he growled “Dungi ru-tor abi’zhu-tor nash-veh shei tu” right before taking his painfully hard member into his hot mouth instantly overruled all competitors. Coherent thought or communication beyond inarticulate grunts and moaning Spock’s name was quickly beyond him as the Vulcan took the same care in cleaning his essence from his cock as he had with Kirk’s hand, the wet roughness of an alien tongue replacing the cooling stickiness he had stroked along his member. Long fingers swept up his inner thighs to dance at his hips before one accompanied Spock’s mouth at the base of Kirk’s cock, the other reaching underneath to cup the pendulous weight of his sac as the captain writhed beneath him. He had been so close before Spock’s mouth even touched him that it felt like mere seconds before the barest scrape of nails across his scrotum accompanied by the continued motion of his lover’s lips on his cock had him bucking into Spock’s mouth, the alien looking quite pleased with himself as he artfully coaxed Kirk’s seed into his throat.
Tongue switching to bare touches, soothing strokes as human flesh softened against his lips, Spock planted one final kiss on the angle of his lover’s hip before sliding up the bed to rest alongside him, hand splayed possessively across Kirk’s chest. “Wow,” Kirk said, opening his eyes for the first time since the tremors of orgasm had overtaken him. “Suffice was definitely an understatement.” He turned his head, planting a tender, yet enduring, kiss on the science officer’s lips only broken by the human’s sudden wide yawn. “Sorry. This week, you know?
Spock simply reached down and pulled the bed coverings from where they’d migrated to one corner up to cover the entwined pair. “Yet again, Jim, the crew of the Enterprise proves itself of remarkable self-sacrifice for those in need, hardly excepting her captain.”
Kirk was able to spot a similar heaviness in Spock’s eyelids and smiled, reaching an arm over to more fully embrace his new lover. “Nor her first officer.” Supremely content, he called for the lights to be lowered, fingers absently tracing patterns across the chest of the alien nestled into his shoulder. In only a few moments, the captain felt the Vulcan’s already-slower than human breathing even out, his face relaxed against Kirk’s naked shoulder. Pressing his lips to Spock’s forehead, he whispered “I meant what I said last week, you know. I’ve managed to fall in love with you.”
Not expecting a reply, Kirk closed his eyes. He fell asleep with a smile across his face when, moments before he slipped under, he heard his partner murmur in reply the one Vulcan word spoken that night he *did* recognize: “T’hy’la”.
Vulcan source: Mostly the STO Geekipedia’s language lessons (sigh. All of them) with added lessons on noun/verb extrapolation from https://webspace.utexas.edu/bighamds/LIN312/Files/Vulcan-intro.pdf . No lie, goddamn did I spend a long time learning way more about Vulcan grammar than I needed to for two sentences, especially because I decided I had to be all picky and accurate and not use the verb "blow" even though it was right there in front of me because I knew it didn't translate to the sexy kind that I wanted. Yeah, that's right, to the best of my several hours of work on this, that shit is accurate Vulcan dirty talk. What the fuck now, huh?
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OH PINTO YOU GEEKS
Date: 2010-01-16 07:02 pm (UTC)JESUS CHRIST this was wordy. It actually became a little hard to comprehend because the sentences were so long, it was hard to follow everything, and I had to go back a few times to make sure I was reading something right. (This could also be the fault of your background, which I lovelovelove but which makes reading long things hard for some reason, contrast or something.)
I thought your Kirk speaking voice was good, but his thinking voice was way too much like Spock's (Spock's voice was awesome, btw. He is appropriately smart sounding and wordy and analytical). Speaking of voices - I got the feeling this was more third person narration, in which case your narrator is too wordy, analytical and Spock sounding. If you want to keep most of your phrases, change it to first person narration using Spock's voice.
The porn was good! And I loveloveloved the Vulcan (you are my hero).
<3!
Re: OH PINTO YOU GEEKS
Date: 2010-01-16 07:18 pm (UTC)Yeah, I know this. I have an incomprehensible loathing of short sentences, so it tends to go the other direction. It needs my actually reading it over not during marathon ONTD posting to fix it rather than just OMGOMGOMG trying to get the whole thing done by the deadline that I thought was 11pm. I put it up just to get it in so the whole thing was in the party or afterparty post somewhere. Will probably be taken down in not too much longer, because I never remain happy with anything I write for more than 5 minutes at a time.
Hee, watch Alexandria!voice third person sound too much like Spock. No, that was just me, LOLOL.
<3 indeed.
Re: OH PINTO YOU GEEKS
Date: 2010-01-16 07:20 pm (UTC)