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The air is heavy, warm summer evening made even warmer inside the claustrophobic front room of the dingy two-story conversion. Dim light glints golden through the smoky haze of the bar. The band is good, heavy bass thumping inside her chest, cracked plaster ceiling above the stage raining dust over the performers whenever the music swells too loud. It’s sweaty, lively. Just the way she likes it. There are people dancing, making out in corners, recounting loudly over-exaggerated tales of far off galaxies, thoroughly enjoying their night off.
And there is a girl staring at Jim.
Well, not currently but her eyes have been flicking back to Jim’s space near the bar every minute and a half for the past half hour like clockwork, so Jim thinks that counts. She’s cute. Sleek bangs blended into a severe bob, a perfectly finished cat eye and black nail polish that is certainly against her uniform regulation. She’s been sipping on some cocktail that looks like it’s probably chocolate in nature and most definitely overpriced. And she’s staring at Jim.
Jim is staring back.
The girl’s Starfleet cadet uniform is one of many in the currently over crowded building. It’s Friday night, which means Jim usually bounces between this spot and two others. Normally they’re all fairly empty with most people opting to get in their air cars the second the work week finishes to get back to their farms or their families, but not Jim. She prefers to stay in her shipyard assigned housing, a shaky little studio crammed with two bunks and a kitchenette that is more rust than cookware at this point. Iowa may have raised her, but it’s never been home. And although Riverside boasts an intergalactically ranked space dock, it is still just a blip on the map; desolate, disposable.
She can’t hear them over the noise, but she knows the ancient oak floors creak under her feet when she saddles up to the bar to order herself another round. Nearly all the bars in Riverside are old converted farm homes, too decrepit and decaying for anyone to live in anymore. Abandoned when the fields went rotten as soon as the shipyard was built. So, the houses turned into shitty dives to get drunk in and the world moved on.
The only excitement the sleepy town ever sees is on nights like tonight, where the Starfleet new recruit shuttles are docked in the shipyard waiting for lift off, and there isn’t an inch of Riverside not covered in red. Jim can usually find herself some stunning extraterrestrial on-planet for the first time looking to experiment, and tonight is no different.
The bartender slides her beer followed by a shot of whiskey across the gloss coated bar top and tells her to “go easy on ‘em kid.” Jim smiles. Not likely.
She downs the whiskey and turns her attention back to the Vulcan girl currently surrounded by friends, standing huddled together, shouting at one another to be heard over the music. She sees the girl flinch away slightly at the overexcited shouts spewing from one of the guys to her left, his arms flailing to prove whatever point he’s making. The girl's eyes flick back over to where Jim is leaning back against the sticky wood of the bar. Clockwork.
Her skin flushes olive at being caught out. It makes heat flicker in Jim’ stomach, smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. Jim gives her an obvious once over, bites her lip and holds her gaze. Her eyes are deep and warm, there’s emotion lingering in them despite her easily schooled expression. She gets a raised eyebrow in answer, so she nods her chin at the girl and flicks her eyes towards the door. She grabs her beer, lifting off the bar to make her way to the porch outside. Hopefully the girl gets the hint.
It’s quieter outside, only a few scattered cadets lingering around the stairs smoking. Jim turns left moving away from the crowd and leans her elbows against the decaying railing lining the porch. She stares off into the sprawling corn fields separating the town from the shipyard, cicadas singing over the muffled noises from inside bleeding out into the night. The once white paint is chipping off the wood, and she knows it’ll stick to her sleeves, but the night is hot and tacky like only midsummer is and she’s still in her work coveralls so she can’t be bothered to care.
It’s not five minutes later she hears the creak of the door swinging open. The smirk is back on her lips when she turns to see who’s joined her out in the hot evening air, though she already knows it’s that Vulcan girl.
“Hey,” she drawls, standing up from her spot on the railing to make space for the girl.
She drags her eyes down the girls body, taking in her strong build, all lean muscle and sharp edges. Jim lets the silence stretch hoping to bring that blush back to her cheeks, but the girl just quirks an eyebrow at her.
She steps closer to the girl, “So, come here often?”
It’s a bad line on a normal night, but especially now given the fact that this girl is in uniform. Usually, though, it works to make girls laugh. Breaks the ice.
The girl stares back easily, her deep eyes scanning Jim’s face in a way that makes her itchy like she’s on display. “The prolonged eye contact you initiated inside in addition to the nod of your head in the direction of the door indicated that you wished for me to follow you. Is this not correct?” She’s blunt, forward. Jim just likes her more for it.
“Just trying to start a conversation, gorgeous,” she quips back, stepping back.
The girl’s expression remains even but the tips of her ears flush, so Jim knows she’s having some effect.
“What do you wish to speak about?” The girl counters.
“We could start with your name? I’m James. James Kirk, but I go by Jim.”
“James is an unusual name for a Terran female is it not?”
Jim is ready for the question, everyone always asks, but it still sets her on edge. Girls always wanna know more than she’s willing to share. She brings her beer up and takes a long sip, alcohol soothing the nerves that always spike up with this question.
“My momma was expecting a boy,” she exhales.
This girl she’s never going to see again doesn’t need to know that her Daddy’s dying wish was to name his son Jim, or that Mamma didn’t have the heart to deny him when she gave birth on his deathbed. And she definitely doesn't need to know how perfectly it fits Jim’s need for ambiguity, or the way it makes denying the prickly regulations of Terran femininity so much easier.
“Fascinating,” the girl says. “My name would be difficult for you to pronounce, but you may call me Spock.”
Jim hums, “Pretty name, pretty girl” She winks and lets her smile fill out her cheeks as she steps away from the cadet over toward the precariously hung porch swing suspended in the far corner. Spock follows her.
Jim sits with one leg perched up on the seat and one dangling down, but to her disappointment, Spock decides to lean against the railing opposite her instead of sitting down in the empty space on the swing.
Jim has always liked a challenge.
“So, Starfleet cadet Spock. What’s your focus?”
“I am not certain you would be able to comprehend the specifics of my studies, however I am on the advanced sciences track if that satisfies your curiosity.”
Jim chuckles under her breath. Damn cocky new recruits always think they’re smarter than she is, that she’s just a dumb hick. “What makes you think I wouldn’t understand?” she asks, crossing her arms.
Spock doesn’t get nervous the way others usually do when she calls them on their shit. Instead, her face remains neutral as she explains. “The cut and wear of your coveralls suggests manual labor. There are four grease stains visible on your top, suggesting you work with machinery. Although if I might add, your top is too low cut and white in color which presumably make it illogical workplace attire for a mechanic. Not to mention your lack of visible undergarment. You have two bandages on your forearms and one on your left fifth digit. All of this in addition to this bar's proximity to the shipyard suggests you work there as a starship mechanic. Highly skilled labor, no doubt but still it is unlikely that you would understand the track of advanced science courses I am enrolled in at Starfleet.”
Jim takes a swig of her beer and stands to cross the distance over to Spock. “Okay then,” she starts. “Should I just guess what it is? Let’s see, Xenolinguistics? That’s not really a science though, huh? Astrophysics seems like it would be too easy for you, maybe something more specific like interdimensional space travel or quantum engineering?”
Spock quirks an eyebrow, “Point proven. I plan to study xenobiology with a focus in astrochemistry and xenoanthropology. I have previous a degree in subdimensional physics.”
“So your current focus is the physiology and cultural norms of extraterrestrial life and you're learning the variations of physics and chemistry across the universe?”
Spock raises her eyebrow higher, “Affirmative.”
The brow thing shouldn’t be attractive but it is. Jim takes another drink from her beer. The fact that she’s really fucking smart shouldn’t be attractive either but, “Shit that’s hot.”
This time Spock’s eyebrows scrunch slightly, “My apologies, I do not understand what the temperature has to do wit-”
“I mean,” Jim cuts her off stepping closer so their chests are almost touching. She pushes her sleek hair off Spock’s shoulder, and lets her hand linger on the girl’s neck tracing the skin lightly before she speaks. Her eyes flick down to Spock’s mouth then back up to her eyes, “that you must be a damn genius, and I think that is an attractive quality.”
The ‘oh’ Spock lets out is so quiet Jim would miss it if she weren't so close.
Jim takes half a step back, “So, what do you plan to do with all that genius?”
Spock’s lips twitch up microscopically, “My goal is to become a science officer aboard a starship, though I admit I am also interested in some level of command.”
Jim smiles easy at the information, “Science officer, that’s impressive. A genius for a captain would make any crew happy I’d think.”
Apparently she says something wrong, Spock’s eyebrows furrow and her lips turn down. “I do not wish to seek Captaincy. Lieutenant or First Officer would be satisfactory.”
Jim hums, curiosity peaked. “Why not Captain?”
Spock takes the question easily, “I have neither the desire nor the temperament for such responsibility. A captain must be well versed in all aspects of the ship and socially dynamic. I believe my Vulcan heritage would prove a difficult barrier among a mostly human crew.”
Well that sucks, Jim thinks. Nobody should limit their goals because other people can’t handle interspecies relations. It’s space, people shouldn’t be expected to conform to human specific behavior.
“That’s stupid,” is what she says.
The ghost of a smile dusts Spock’s face, her eyes warming as they take in Jim’s face. Jim only realizes now that they've been gravitating closer to one another, chests brushing as they speak. She reaches behind Spock to set her almost empty bottle down on the railing, inching closer into Spock’s space as she goes.
“I assume you are referring to the cultural dynamics of interspecies relations rather than my reasoning. I can assure you though my logic is sound, I am not disappointed by the prospect of working alongside a skilled and fair captain. On the contrary, being Vulcan means my decisions are dictated by logic rather than emotion, so I am ideally suited for an officer position. The idea brings me what you might equate to joy.”
Shit, this girl is cute. Jim wants to talk to her about space, about her coursework, ask her thoughts on articles Jim’s read in Science Universal or studies she hacks out of Interspecies Digest.
She tests her fingertips to the skin of Spok’s elbow. “Either way, any ship would be lucky to have you I’m sure.” Spock quirks a small smile, eyes searching Jim’s face.
Jim runs her hand down spock’s arm, feather light touches raising goosebumps from her shoulder to her wrist. There’s something about Vulcan hands she can’t remember right now, but she knows she shouldn’t touch them. Spock shivers, eyes flicking down to Jim’s lips, and that’s all the permission she needs.
Jim kisses Spock simple and chaste, barely brushing their lips together. Spock leans into it, the wrist Jim had been tracing shifts and Spock slides their fingers together. Jim’s not really sure what it means but she goes with it. Spock sighs, opening her mouth when Jim's tongue swipes her bottom lip in askance. Their languid kissing is making Jim’s stomach twist with want, her fingertips tingling where Spock caresses them.
Jim pulls away, leaning her forehead against Spock’s.
“What’s the hand thing?” she murmurs into the space between their breaths.
Spock leans their foreheads together. “Vulcan hands are incredibly sensitive” She holds up two fingers, motioning Jim to do the same. Spock’s eyes latch onto Jim’s as she presses their fingertips together.
“This is the way Vulcans kiss.”
Jim’s stomach swoops something fierce with the buzzing sensation where their hands meet.
Their eyes meet, gazes heavy with a flimsy kind of longing from knowing exactly where their lingering is taking them. Jim could count the lashes on Spock’s eyes; they're so close. Then they're kissing again, harder this time. Jim’s free hand moving firm to the back of Spock’s head to tangle in her silky hair while Spock's grabs at the belt loops on Jim’ overalls, pulling their hips flush. Spock’s lips are so soft, warm and pliant under Jim's tongue as she opens her mouth to her.
Jim’s head feels like it’s spinning, she doubts it’s from the whiskey though, and it’s definitely not the shit beer she’s been drinking either. Two steps back and they’re pressed hard against the railing. Jim slides one knee between Spock’s legs and it makes her mewl into Jim’ mouth. God, she wants her to make more sounds like that. She uses both hands on Spock’s thighs to lift her up onto the shaky railing, a passing thought to the group of cadets still clinging to the staircase. They're cloaked by the shadowy corner though, so she really can’t care who sees them. She just prays the wood doesn’t give way under Spock’s body as steps into the space between her knees.
Spock loops her arms around Jims neck, Jims latched securely to her waist. Feeling, touching, exploring wherever they can, desperate for more. Spock is letting out these soft little ‘ah, ah’s’ whenever Jim pushes her hips forward, grinding their pelvic bones together. The seam of her overalls is pressed deliciously against her clit and Spock's foot is hooked behind her calf locking her in place. She can’t breathe with how hard they’re kissing. It feels like heaven.
Jim pulls away to trail kisses hot and wet over Spock’s chin, down the column of her throat to a spot just beneath her ear and sucks. Hard. “James,” Spock gasps out, her hand flying to clutch the short hair of Jim’s crop, keeping her fixed in place.
“Tell me something.” Jim demands.
“I do not understand your reques-”
“Tell me something you’re learning.” It’s a risk to ask, Jim knows the other girl might just push her away and tell her to fuck off but she can’t help it. She keeps sucking a hickey into the delicate skin below Spock’s ear, heart hammering away against her ribs.
Luckily, Spock indulges her.
“The dust cloud at the center of your galaxy is composed of, of ethyl formate which smells like, ah, the Terran fruit known as raspberries.”
Jim smiles into her neck, “You know, Saturn is the only planet in this system that could float in water.” She’s goading her, but she can’t help it.
Spock steps up her game when Jim continues to worry at the hickey she’s creating.
“Top scientists now believe the Eridanus Cold Spot, once thought to be a supervoid, may instead be evidence of parallel universes.”
“If you could look into the photon sphere of a black hole you’d see the back of your own head,” Jim fires back tugging Spocl’s earlobe with her teeth.
“The coldest known region of the universe is the Boomerang Nebula at one degree celsius above absolute zero.” Spock breathes, using her grip in Jims hair to pull her up and reconnect their lips.
“I think it’s wild we still haven’t discovered a white hole.” Jim whispers into her mouth.
Spock murmurs back, “I find it remarkable that there are more variations in the game of chess than there are atoms in the known universe.”
God, Jim needs to get her somewhere private now.
“Bathroom or coat closet?” she asks into the heat of their kiss.
Spock speaks through a break in their embrace, “I- I have a portable transporter. We can..”
“Your place, now, please.”
Spock fumbles to pull the small device out of the breast pocket of her uniform while Jim finds a new place on her neck to acquaint herself with. It takes Spock a minute, but soon Jim feels the tingle that comes with molecular transportation, steadying her hold on Spock’s thighs as they’re beamed away from the bar. They're deposited in what Jim guesses is Spock’s dorm. She doesn’t really care where they are, just that there’s a bed and an eager Vulcan urging her towards it.
Jim sets Spock down, stepping away to push the straps of her overalls off her shoulders and down her legs before ripping her too tight top over her head. She kicks her shoes off with her jeans and stands back up, naked save for her black boxer briefs. She pauses when she sees Spock is stood slowly folding her uniform into the dresser beside her bed.
It shouldn’t be endearing but it is. She’s only gotten her jacket off so far, bra unclasped, unbuttoned pants hanging low on her hips. Jim slides up behind her and wraps her arms around the girl's stomach to kiss across her shoulder blades. Spock lolls her head to one side, granting access for Jim to resume laving at the skin below her ear. Instead, Jim carefully slips her fingers into the waistband of Spock’s bottoms and carefully pushes the fabric down her legs, squeezing her thighs, kissing across her shoulders and down her spine as she bends.
Spock’s breathing increases, spreading her legs as much as her pants will allow. Her hands reach out to grip the dresser to keep her balance. On her knees, Jim presses a gentle kiss at the base of Spock’s spine, then another where Spock’s inner thighs curve to meet her ass, her skin sensitive along the lower lining of her underwear.
“James, please.”
Jim whispers “Step up for me” into the soft cotton of Spock's panties knowing the heat of her breath against Spock’s clothed pussy will make her wet.
Spock’s knees tremble as she steps out of the pant legs pooled at her ankles. Jim grabs them, taking her time as she stands, kissing her way back up Spock’s spine up to the short hair at the base of her neck. Lips to the shell of Spock’s ear, she folds the pants before using one hand to push at Spock’s hips until she turns around. Their lips meet immediately, kisses like molten lava, all slow sliding tongue and teasing bites. Spock grabs her uniform from Jim’ hands and tosses onto the top of the dresser without breaking their kiss. Hands finally free, Jim pushes Spock’s unclasped bra off her shoulders and drops it to the floor.
Spock seems to forget her need for tidiness as Jim swipes her fingers across her nipples, pinching to make the girl gasp into her mouth. The hands on Jim’ hips squeeze tighter, pulling her closer, so she slots one leg up against Spock’s pussy to give her something to move against, one hand moving firm to grab at her ass.
They stay like that, panting into each other's mouths, grinding like teenagers against Spock’s dresser for what feels like hours.
She doubts it's been more than five minutes though when Spock lets out a needy whine and Jim can’t take anymore teasing. Her fingers slip between their bodies, pulling Spock’s underwear to the side to twirl the soft hair she finds there and slide through her folds. The sound Spock makes is otherworldly, it makes Jim’ thighs clench and she refuses to wait another minute to get her mouth on her.
Jim breaks their kiss to drop to her knees, pulling Spock’s underwear down to her ankles as she goes. She mouths at the happy trail along her navel as Spock lifts her knee and hooks it over Jim’ shoulder.
Spock’s Vulcan anatomy seems to be almost identical to Jim’ human biology. Thich curls vaguely obscuring the fact that her folds are tighter, forming a soft olive slit that hides her clit completely. Jim would bet anything her slick is a different color, but the room is dark and she doesn’t care enough to stop what she’s doing to find out.
The first swipe of her tongue over Spock’s cunt has her breathless. She tastes so… sweet. Jim knows there will be time for teasing later, but now she just wants. She dives in, licking long and solid through Spock’ folds, tongue swirling and sucking on her clit, punching desperate little moans out of Spock’s mouth. Spock’s leg clenches over her right shoulder, heel digging into her back. Jim wraps her arms around the leg Spock is using to stand, giving her support and pulling her closer all the same. Spock takes this as cue to start grinding her pussy against Jim’ face and fuck it’s so hot. The hand gripping Spock’s leg slides up to her ass, groping the flesh there encouraging Spock’s movements. Jim keeps her tongue firm for Spock to writhe against, her hips moving faster as she chases the pleasure.
Jim is pretty sure Spock’s gonna have crescent shaped marks on the back of her knee and the swell of her ass from how hard she’s gripping the fragile skin there, but she’s definitely going to have scrapes on her shoulders from Spock’s nails so she figures they’re even.
Spock is making these little keening sounds, her hands scrambling against Jim’ shoulders and pulling her cropped hair. Her hips twitch hard whenever she sucks Spock’s clit into her mouth, scraping her teeth softly to light up the nerves there. Jim can tell she’s getting close. She brings her free hand up to push two fingers inside her, hooking into what she hopes is her g-spot and Spock shouts. Bless their humanoid physiology being nearly identical. One, two, three hooks of her fingers against the silky soft walls of her spot and she’s seizing up, her loud cry of “James!” drowning out the slippery sound of fingers moving inside her. Wetness wells into Jim’s palm, slick flooding her tongue as Spock cums.
Spock’s knees go lax, leaning into the strength of Jim’s bicep and the sturdy dresser behind her to keep her upright as she rides out the aftershocks.
Jim feels like she’s cum already from how satisfying that was.
Spock’s is panting quietly above her. Her hands are still in Jim’s hair and her voice is shaky when she whispers “That was… remarkable” into the darkness of the room. Jim presses light kisses into the soft hair at the crux of her thighs then unwinds Spock’s leg from its spot over her shoulder so she can slide up her body. Spock winds her arms around Jim’s neck and pulls her into a lazy kiss, tasting herself and sucking her own slick off Jim’s lips and fuck if that doesn’t make Jim hot.
The need throbbing between Jim's legs is getting harder to ignore, so she pushes Spock onto the bed and shoves her own underwear off as she stumbles down onto the mattress. She lands gracelessly on top of Spock, who giggles. Jim uses her arm to catch her weight and hovers over Spock, bringing their lips together again. Spock is smiling into the kiss, which Jim is pretty sure is weird for Vulcans.
So she asks. “What happened to the Vulcan stoicism? My tongue that good?”
Spock huffs out a lilting little laugh again, the sound twinkly and bright, her eyes warm as she maps Jim’s face. She pushes a loose curl back behind Jim’s ear, cupping her chin.
“I admit my current state seems illogical indeed, but I have never experienced emotions such as these before so I am unsure if my response is appropriate or not. I have also consumed the glucose equivalent of two alcoholic beverages, so my emotional shields are consequently weakened.”
Her statement makes anxiety spike in Jim’s chest, she leans up quickly and straddles Spock’s hips, sitting on top of her.
“Woah wait. Hold on. This is your first time? Oh my god, I’m honored, but if I had known I- fuck we shouldn’t have done that drunk. I- shit, I should’ve been gentler, we could have gone slower! I ate you out against your fucking dresser for your first time! I’m so sor-“
Spock takes Jim’s face between her hands, forcing their eyes together. “James, I apologize for being unclear in my previous statement. I simply meant that my previous sexual encounters have never resulted in a satisfactory completion for myself, only for my partners. It was not my intention to insinuate that I have never participated in sexual congress before.”
Holy shit. Jim knows she's fish-mouthing, but she can’t help it. “You’re kidding? Fuck, Spock, please tell me you’re kidding.”
She thinks Spock blushes at that, her face lit by the moonlight glinting through the window. She braces one hand against Jim’s back and uses the other to shuffle her body up into a sitting position beneath Jim’s weight.
“I am afraid not. Vulcan males can be very… logical in their approach to sexual intercourse. It has made for rather sterile encounters in my experience.”
“Oh my god”
“In addition, I have not discovered until recently that I may be more strongly attracted to members of my own sex. I can attribute this knowledge to being a factor in my lack of coupled orgasms. However I have experienced the phenomena on a number of occasions when experimenting on my own.”
Jim nods along, she can understand that. It’s hard to feel good at all when you're not attracted to your partner.
“I also find myself ‘in my head’ as the human expression goes. Apprehension towards my mixed physiology was always common among my Vulcan peers.”
She must let the silence linger too long because Spock’s voice sounds uncertain when she asks, “Have I made you uncomfortable, Jim?”
“Fuck no, god, not at all! Please don’t think that. I’m just… shocked I guess? Why were your friends dicks about your body? Sorry, that’s personal you don;t have to answer. You’re just so… beautiful.”
Spock is obviously regaining control of her emotions, but she lets herself smile once more. “I am half human, the only of my kind. It is only logical for others to be confused at my existence.”
Woah, okay “I mean, yeah I kinda get that but also? No. I’ve known you for an hour and you might be the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”
Spock presses a kiss to Jim’s mouth, leaning their foreheads together.
Jim isn’t finished with their conversation though, “Are you okay? Was I okay? Was it good for you?”
Soock’s eyes go all warm like amber honey, “James, that was a completely satisfactory experience and I regret none of it.”
Spock brings two fingers up to press against Jim’s lips and Jim pecks them in return.
Jim smiles, wide and happy as she ducks her head down to kiss Spock, murmuring “okay good” into her mouth.
They stay like that, Spock sitting up against the headboard, Jim straddling her hips as they kiss, unhurried.
She rides Spock’s fingers like that, one hand clutching at the girl's soft hair the other rubbing circles into her clit until she cums, her moans swallowed up by Spock’s mouth. Spock brings her down gradually, letting her fingers linger inside Jim before she brings her them up to her mouth and sucks the wetness off of them and who needs a refractory period when a sexy Vulcan girl is doing that.
She slides down to the space between Spock’s legs and gives her two more orgasms. First with two fingers in her pussy and her thumb rubbing circles into Spock’s clit. Then again with just her tongue purposely pushing Spock into shaky oversensitivity. Spock pushes Jim onto her back after she cums for the third time, pinning Jim’s wrists above her head.
A hoarse “My turn” is mumbled into her lips before Spock trails her lips down to Jim’s nipples and sucks them into her mouth.
“You are sensitive here?” Spock asks and Jim moans “yes” in answer.
Spock swirls her tongue and sucks Jim nipples into her mouth, delicately nibbling at the nubs and Jim can’t take it. It feels like it’s been ages since she first came, and she’s pent up all over again.
“Please, Spock.”
Thankfully, Spock stops teasing her and moves her lips down until she’s hovering just above Jim’s pussy, breath ghosting over where Jim wants her most. Jim has her eyes closed, but she can feel Spock hesitating so she leans up on her elbows to see what’s wrong.
“You okay?” she asks.
There’s fear lingering in Spock’s eyes “I am… uncertain that I can please you as thoroughly as you have pleased me. When I have done this in the past… ”
Jim smiles tenderly, “Hey, it’s okay” her fingers brushing Spock’s sweaty bangs to the side. “Don’t worry. I'll tell you what I like yeah? You’ll be perfect, I know it. But if you want to stop we will.”
Spock’s face goes serious, brows knitting together in concentration, “Negative.” And that’s all the warning Jim gets before Spock is swiping her tongue up her folds, testing pressure to her clit.
Jim sighs at the contact and lets her elbows give out so her head is back on Spock’’s pillow She’s good, Jim doesn’t know why she was worried when she seems to know her way around plenty. Jim tells her as much, “Yeah, Spock perfect.” Jim feels Spock’s fingers dig harder into her thighs at the praise.
Spock swirls her tongue around Jim’s clit like she’s been doing it for years, gentle and torturous and driving her crazy.
She lets the thoughts in her head tumble off her lips freely, encouraging Spock’s eager mouth with breathless pants of ‘so good, baby’ and ‘fuck dont stop, just like that’.
Jim feels swallowed whole by how good Spock’s mouth feels on her pussy, she has no idea how long it’s been, but that it hasn’t been that long and she’s so close. But she knows she’ll need more to push her over the edge, even if she feels like squirming away from how good it feels.
“Fingers, your fingers Spock please” she begs, grabbing Spock’s wrist and pushing it down toward where she needs it.
Spock smirks against her cunt, doubling her efforts with her tongue, lightly tracing shapes with her fingertips into the soft flesh of Jim’s thigh. It makes Jim’s toes curl and her brain short circuit, she's moaning “please please Spock need you, need more, please” over and over again but Spock doesn’t relent just keeps suckling steady and firm at her clit.
“I can’t, I’m huh, I’m gonna cum oh my god, ah I can’t- unnhh” and she’s squirting into Spock’s mouth, wet spreading onto the sheets below them and Jim’s embarrassed but she’s never cum on someone’s tongue alone and there are tears clinging to her eyelashes and she can’t think straight. Spock is lapping at her cunt, keeps circling her tongue and pressing kisses into the mess of Jim’s pussy. She doesn’t know if it's to bring her down or rile her up again, Jim’s not sure she really cares. Paired with how hard her chest is heaving as she tries to catch her breath, it’s all so completely overwhelming.
Spock’s lips are turned up in a tiny smile when she finally lifts herself from between Jim’s legs, wipes her mouth with her wrist and crawls up to collapse onto the bed beside her.
Spock has the audacity to ask “Did you find that satisfactory?”
Jim bends her knees up and feels her legs shake. She covers her eyes and laughs “Oh my god, Spock!”
Spock is leaned up on one elbow but Jim needs her closer. She pulls the other girl into her chest so they can lay together to catch their breath.
Catching their breath turns into drifting off. There’s a voice in Jim’s head telling her they need to shower and change the sheets, that she needs to go home. But her legs still feel like jelly so she figures they can wait a few more minutes.
Eventually, Spock untangles their limbs and heads toward the bathroom. Jim figures that’s her cue to leave. She flicks on a lamp and goes about searching for her clothes. She can hear the faucet running in the bathroom as she pulls on her briefs. Spock lingers in the doorway, toothbrush in her mouth, watching Jim get dressed.
Spock turns to rinse out her mouth so she can ask, “If you desire to stay, my roommate is not scheduled to return until 0:700. I have a spare toothbrush if you desire.”
Who is Jim to argue with that?
Spock lends her the toothbrush, and Jim helps her change the sheets. They make tea in the replicator, and end up talking for hours about nothing. Dynamic interplanetary gravity to debate the potential consequences of Starfleet’s prime directive until Jim falls asleep on Spock’s chest. Nothing, everything, the lines are blurry.
It’s 06:15 when Jim slips out of the room, pausing in the doorway to look at Spock’s sleeping form one last time. Her heart aches. An unfortunate side effect of amazing sex and even better company.
The walk back to the bar takes 30 minutes, silver morning light peeking over the horizon when she finally sticks the key in the ignition of her motorcycle.
----
Jim stays in Riverside for another two and a half years. She spends a collective eight months of that time serving a number of small sentences for various bar fights and misdemeanors.
She’s in the middle of one of these fights when Captain Pike finds her, lip split, blood pouring out of her nose, and dares her to do better.
She never was one to back down from a challenge.