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It’s a quiet evening. Golden hour’s in full swing, and the crickets and peepers and cadydids are getting warmed up outside. The weather’s pleasant enough they’ve had the doors and windows open all day; they’ll have to close them within the next couple hours when it gets too cold for Spock. As it is, Jim is sitting on their screened porch, reading and waiting for his husband to rejoin him.
“Would you like a biscuit with your tea?” Spock calls from the kitchen.
“Yes, thank you,” Jim responds. “You’re doing Bones proud with those things, I don’t know if he’ll be thrilled or irritated when he finds out how good you are with his recipe.”
Spock treads back into the room, carrying a tray with their tea, biscuits, and jam.
“Perhaps a bit of both.”
Jim chuckles as Spock sets the tray on the coffee table in front of them and retakes his seat on the chair next to Jim’s. They sit in comfortable silence, munching and sipping idly while enjoying the sounds of the country. Both are reading, Spock on his padd and Jim leafing through a stack of old books he hasn’t had a chance to work through - a few his own, and a few from Spock’s collection.
He’s currently perusing one of the latter, a thick volume entitled v’ree’lat . It’s an encyclopedic history of Vulcan meditation, entirely in Vulkhansu; Jim’s been using the translator function on his padd to skim it. The book’s complete with beautiful, vibrant images and artwork, and Jim is taken with the elegance of the Vulcan style. There are lovely photographs of ancient temples, of Vulcan individuals a millennia ago looking so relaxed they could be asleep, of the regalia and accoutrements inherent in the tradition. Even a variation of Spock’s robe he dons for his nightly meditations is there, and Jim smiles at the familiar sight.
Jim turns the page and lets out a low whistle at the next picture, drawing Spock’s attention. He tilts the book to allow his partner to see the skimpy ensemble on display.
“Any reason it’s designed like that?” Jim asks. “Pretty racy.”
“Although I believe you may find that information in the book,” Spock teases, “yes. It is the standard style worn by those entering deep, prolonged periods of intense meditation.”
“Wait,” Jim leans toward him, “people still wear this?”
“They do. It is generally used by monks and kohlinar pursuants. I, in fact, wore it during my time as a candidate.”
Jim looks between Spock and the titillating picture a few times. He finally takes off his reading glasses.
“You,” he says carefully, “wore this?”
Spock nods serenely. Jim takes another sip of his tea.
“That’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard.” He shakes his head. “Forgive me, that’s probably disrespectful toward Vulcan beliefs and your experience.”
“Jim,” Spock interjects with a condescending shake of his head, “it is simply an outfit.”
Jim aims a playful swat at him, which Spock easily dodges.
“In seriousness,” he continues, “it is used both for tradition and because it lends itself toward the induction of meditation. Kohlinar was ultimately not my path, but I grew from its pursuit and do not regret it.” He raises a brow. “I would be amenable to you seeing me in it or engaging in sexual activity while wearing the ensemble if that’s something you desire.”
Jim grins as he reaches his hand out and hooks his pinkie in Spock’s, who readily reciprocates the gesture as he speaks again.
“Shall we start planning the holodeck together tonight?”
“Of course,” Jim assures. He nudges Spock’s hand. “Sounds like you’re a little more than ‘amenable’ to the idea.”
Spock shrugs playfully.
“Do you have anything particular in mind, anything you’ve been wanting to do?” Jim continues. “A scenario, gentle, rough, kinky…?”
“I have, at times,” Spock ponders, “imagined you attempting to elicit an emotional response from me. I believe that may be applicable to this scene.”
Jim smirks.
“Care to elaborate a little?”
“The thought of you attempting to make me express emotion through sexual means is stimulating to me.”
Jim feels the heat that has gradually been creeping up his neck reach his face.
“I assume,” the corners of Spock’s lips turn up slightly, “that is from arousal rather than any embarrassment.”
“You know it is,” Jim assures him. “If that’s an idea that turns you on, I’d love to try it. And I think it’d be a good opportunity to work in some of that power play that you like so much.”
“Ah, yes,” Spock deadpans, “how selfless of you to endure play with power dynamics from which you gain no arousal. It is a tragedy that you have so little regard for your own sexual satisfaction.”
Before Jim can retort, the two are interrupted by a clatter to the left of the porch. Jim leaps up and opens the screen door.
“Hey!” he shouts. Then, more aggressively, “ Hey! ” He turns to Spock, incredulous. “Still bold as anything!”
He starts banging on the side of the house as Spock sighs.
“Raccoons are a notoriously fearless species. I still do not understand your feud with them nor your insistence on becoming agitated whenever they come around.”
“You’ll - get out of here! - you’ll be singing a different tune when they find their way into your vegetable garden.”
Spock is at Jim’s side before he can even turn his head to check if his baiting was successful. As it is, his husband’s worried face is next to his, looking at the offending trio of raccoons sniffing around the side of the house. Spock casts him a wary look.
“The protective barrier surrounding the vegetable plot should keep them out.”
“Yeah,” Jim shrugs, returning his attention to the raccoons, “that’s what they tell you. But these little bastards can get into anything. I remember as a kid my dad would stack bricks on top of containers he didn’t want them around and they’d still weasel their way in.”
There’s a beat while Jim waits for his goading to take effect.
“Shoo!” Spock says to the raccoons. “Leave this area. You have many other places in which to wander and forage.”
One raccoon actually looks Spock in the eye before continuing about his business. Jim’s belly laugh at Spock’s indignant scoff is ultimately what scares them off.
-
Jim stands. His meeting with Salkut, a chief diplomat, and Luror, a priestess, has just concluded successfully, and they intend to take him on a tour of the building prior to the diplomatic dinner they will attend.
He and Spock had decided that this holodeck would occur in an altered universe; Vulcan is a new member of the Federation, and Jim is a highly influential Starfleet captain whose approval the planet seeks and wishes to obtain - by any means necessary.
It’s been over a week since they first discussed the idea, and this is the first free evening they’ve had. The two both agreed this would be a good time to enter their house’s holodeck and put their fantasy into action.
“What do you intend to show me first?” Jim asks the Vulcans, starting for the door.
“The first item we have for your review,” Salkut announces, “will actually be in this room.”
“Spock,” Luror projects, “enter.”
The doors open, and a man steps into the room.
He is tall and slim, pointed ears peeking through the curtains of silky black hair that flow over his shoulders and brush his forehead in messy bangs. A modest ceremonial garment hangs over his lithe frame, a rough robe the rusty color of the Vulcan sky or human blood. This is layered beneath a firm, geometric garment particular to the fashion of the planet - heavily structured with stiff shoulders, covered with whirls of simple shapes creating a larger pattern that branches into the third dimension through strips of cloth projecting from the designs. His hands and feet are bare.
He’s breathtaking. His nose arches in an elegant hook, drawing the eye down to his sharply bowed lips. This severe t-zone is framed by equally severe cheekbones, which taper into a squared chin. The eyes are dark and bright, hooded with gracefully arched brows. His long face is the definition of secure dignity.
Jim’s entire assessment takes perhaps one second. He’s pulled from his revery when the man falls smoothly to his knees.
“This,” Salkut announces, “is Spock.”
Spock . As the diplomat continues, Jim finds himself mouthing the name silently, enjoying the feel on his tongue.
“He is a current candidate for the rite of kohlinar, the ritual by which all vestigial emotion is removed. Luror,” he addresses the priestess, “perhaps you would explain the situation in more detail.”
“Spock has reached the penultimate phase of his preparation, and we believe him to have nearly achieved kohlinar . He simply requires a final test.” Luror regards Jim gravely. “Vulcan is honored by your presence and wishes to reciprocate this respect through a gesture of your human concept of friendship. There is a logical approach to address both of these needs. Spock is yours for the duration of your time here.”
Before Jim can fully understand what Luror has said, Salkut interjects.
“Spock is from a conservative culture that generally frowns upon sexual relations outside of a marriage bond. I believe the Terran description would be that he is a virgin.”
The kneeling man doesn’t react.
“You may use him in any way you wish - he will accept any treatment,” Luror continues. “This serves not only as a token of our fellowship but also as a final test for Spock in what is an extremely significant ritual for our people. If he displays any emotion while with you, he will fail kohlinar . Do not, to use a Terran expression, go easy on him.”
Jim is so taken aback he can hardly nod in response to Luror’s declaration. Although he can’t take his eyes off Spock, the Vulcan has kept his gaze studiously averted since the moment he entered. A moment of silence passes before Jim gathers himself.
“You honor Terra and me with this display of respect,” he says solemnly, inclining his head in a slight bow. “I can assure you that your gift will be well appreciated and that I will assist you in determining Mr. Spock’s fitness for kohlinar in any way I can.”
“Your appreciation of our culture is noted and admired,” Luror nods. “Spock, you may go.”
The man on the floor stands. As he turns, he meets Jim’s gaze for a fleeting moment. It lasts only a millisecond, but Jim can feel electricity crackle between their eyes.
He watches after the Vulcan until the hem of his robe has disappeared into the hallway and the man is completely out of sight. He can’t pull his eyes away from the spot until Salkut speaks again.
“Shall we continue our tour of the grounds, Captain Kirk?”
“Yes,” Jim gathers himself. “Yes, that’s good.”
-
The continued tour of the grounds takes about twenty minutes. After its completion, the Vulcans guide him through the halls to the room where the diplomatic dinner is to be held. Upon reaching a pair of closed doors, the diplomat and the priestess pause.
“Perhaps,” Luror ventures, “you would like to look in on how Spock is being prepared.”
Jim opens his mouth, but no noise comes out. He quickly gathers himself.
“Yes, thank you.”
The two gesture toward the doors and step aside. Jim warily nears the doors and pushes. They part slightly to allow a view into what appears to be baths. It is a spacious room, simultaneously minimalist and luxurious. The air is extremely humid, and Jim is silently grateful that the steam is thin enough that it does not obscure his view of the room’s goings-on. The steam’s source is a large, in-ground tub in the center of the room.
Four female attendants surround the tub, busying themselves with work in and around it. They wear loose, sheer garments, their firm nipples and enticing figures tantalizingly visible through the fine gossamer cloth. Each is exceptionally beautiful in her own way, and Jim feels his face heat for reasons other than the steamy room he stands in. It had been Spock’s suggestion to include these women for Jim’s pleasure, which makes their presence and actions all the more arousing.
Spock sits in the tub, submerged up to his soft pecs. He is relaxed, sitting with his eyes closed and his wet hair lying sleekly against his back. Two women prepare oils and cosmetics along the tub’s periphery while two others kneel behind Spock, sensually massaging and cleansing his shoulders, chest, and back. One of the other women steps into the tub holding a scrubbing tool and submerging herself up to her waist. At her prompting, Spock opens his eyes and begins to shift his position. His dark gaze meet Jim’s for what feels like an eternity.
Spock quickly breaks eye contact, lowering his gaze and bowing his head as he immediately shifts to his knees in the water. The unprompted display of obedience and submission takes Jim by surprise. He smiles.
Before he turns to leave, he sees Spock’s eyes flit back to his face. Once he’s back in the hallway, he lets his smile shift into a grin.
This is going to be fun.
-
Jim’s mind races throughout the entire diplomatic dinner. Despite his hosts’ graciousness, their generous spreads of delicious food, the crucial conversation, he can’t concentrate. Every time he blinks, he sees Spock. What’s he doing right now? Is he as filled with anticipation as Jim?
One dignitary, a middle aged person named Helakh, raises their eyebrows at Jim. They’ve spoken to him, but Jim hasn’t heard a word they’ve said. Before he has a chance to ask forgiveness, Helakh speaks again.
“I believe we have covered all that we intended to discuss. Do you agree, Captain Kirk?”
Although this section of the simulation lasted just under an hour, Jim thought the time would never come.
He pulls off what he’s pretty sure is an extremely calm and self-controlled nod.
“Yes, puk'ai'la ,” he responds. “I cannot think of anything else pressing at this time.”
The group assents.
“It would not be logical to keep Captain Kirk longer than necessary from his further duties tonight,” T’Leth, another ambassador, quips. “It is most gracious of him to assist with a kohlinar candidate’s final tests.”
Jim smirks and shoots the woman a lightheartedly disapproving glance as the group rises. They say their goodnights, and Jim is off to his quarters. He idly wonders if he’ll need to fetch Spock from somewhere or inform the priestess that he’s ready for him. He’s pulled from this reverie when he enters his suite.
He stops short and finds himself struck dumb upon finding what waits for him inside.
Spock kneels on the ground of the sitting area, head straight and eyes lowered, hands held to shoulder level and presenting a tray piled with what appear to be towels, vials, a glass of water, and a plate of food. His state of dress is diametrically opposed to what he wore upon their first meeting.
Jim deliberately takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him as though he’s never seen it before. Spock is draped in a silken, completely diaphanous garment that falls to his knee and continues to mid-calf in slim, ropey tassels. It is held up on one shoulder by the fabric’s draping and on the other shoulder with a simple strap. It’s open along its sides. The garment is truly lovely, with artful patterns skillfully woven into the delicate material. Beneath this, all that covers him is a simple brown undergarment - Jim would call it a pair of panties if he didn’t know better.
Unlike the bulky robes of earlier, this ensemble leaves Spock’s figure completely visible. He’s lean and willowy with a trim waist and a mild hourglass shape, long, graceful legs, and pert breasts. His chest, stomach, arms, and legs sport an attractive covering of dark hair. The tresses cascading from his head are clean and shiny, possessing a soft wave. His skin glistens with a fine sheen of oil.
Slim, supple straps encircle both of his wrists. They are connected by long, thin ropes enclosed in strips of gauzy fabric. These long bonds lie behind him and do nothing to restrict his movement, but the effect is deeply arousing.
Jim’s pants are already feeling a little tight.
Spock has kneeled perfectly throughout this entire assessment, arms never wavering and eyes never leaving the tray he holds. Jim approaches and stops about a foot before him.
“I’d like you to look at me.”
Spock shifts his gaze to meet Jim’s. The Vulcan is an excellent actor, but despite his mask of control and trepidation, Jim can plainly see arousal. He smiles.
“My name is Captain James Kirk. Tonight you can refer to me as ‘captain’ or ‘sir.’” Jim pauses a moment. “I’d like to hear your voice.”
Spock’s lips part attractively before he speaks. They are painted with a light russet tint.
“You honor Vulcan with your presence, Captain James Kirk,” he intones clearly. “I am here to serve.”
Jim rests a light hand on Spock’s head, caressing his hair.
“What a good boy,” he smiles. “Come and set down that tray on the table over here.”
Spock rises to his feet and obeys, placing the tray on the low table in the center of the room and standing at parade rest. Jim appreciates the sway of the Vulcan’s hips, his awkward gait, the way the elegant fabric swishes over his skin before following him and seating himself on the couch. Then, he takes another moment to enjoy the view before him.
“Spock,” he breaks the silence. “Take everything off the tray and set them up on the table.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Spock efficiently transfers each item to the table and arranges them to be readily available. Once finished, he returns his attention to Jim.
“Kneel down between my legs, Spock.”
The Vulcan quickly falls to his knees. He looks at Jim expectantly, awaiting his next orders. Jim spreads his legs wider.
“Unfasten my pants and take my penis out.”
Spock hesitates for a second, eyeing the bulge visible in the crotch of Jim’s pants. Jim thinks he might need to give the other man more prompting, but Spock obeys on his own. He reaches forward and undoes the human’s fly. With gentle fingers, he removes Jim’s dick from his pants before shyly pulling his hands away. Jim reaches forward to run a finger over one of Spock’s sharp eyebrows.
“Have you ever seen a human penis before?”
“Only in photos,” Spock murmurs. “Sir.”
“Any initial impressions?” he asks, adjusting his hand to cup Spock’s angular cheek.
Almost imperceptibly, the Vulcan leans into the touch. He quickly gathers himself and responds.
“It is… attractive, sir.”
“Why don’t we get you some more hands-on experience?” Jim purrs.
Spock’s brow furrows.
“Captain?”
Jim huffs a laugh.
“I’d like you to touch my penis and stroke it with your hands.”
Spock’s eyes widen slightly, and a slight flush appears on his high cheekbones.
“ Manual sex , sir?”
Jim runs an affectionate thumb across the tip of Spock’s ear before withdrawing his touch.
“The Terran slang term is a handjob, but yes, Spock. Manual sex.”
The Vulcan hesitates, eyeing Jim’s half-hard dick with trepidation. Jim knows the significance of Vulcan hands and the deep intimacy and vulgarity of this gesture - it’s why he’s asked it.
“Don’t be shy,” Jim continues. “It won’t bite.”
Spock’s brow furrows more deeply. Jim’s dick twitches where it lies against his thigh.
“Just another Terran expression. Now go ahead.”
After another moment, Spock’s curiosity gets the better of him, and he lifts his hands to wrap them around Jim’s dick. Jim releases a deep breath through his nose - Spock’s hands feel wonderful, soft and cool and gentle, shy and sweet. They stay like that for a moment before Jim prompts Spock with a slight nod of his head. Spock begins moving his hands up and down Jim’s length very slowly and very innocently. Although his manipulation is unpracticed, more exploratory than sexual, Jim still gets progressively harder.
Spock removes one hand to gingerly touch Jim’s balls, drawing an approving hum from the human. His barely there, almost tickling touches turn to more forceful squeezes and caresses. Spock is focused, full attention fixed on the task at hand. Jim can’t help but smile at this and moans abruptly when Spock runs a thumb over the slit at the head of his cock. Spock turns his dark eyes to Jim’s face.
“That’s good, honey,” Jim encourages. “Try a little more of that.”
It takes a second for Spock to fully understand Jim’s words, but when he does, his lips part just a little and he returns his gaze to Jim’s dick. He continues in these ministrations until the friction refocuses Jim’s attention.
“Wait.” Jim stops Spock. “Hold on, we’ve got something that’ll help us out here. Grab me one of those vials from the table.”
Spock releases Jim and quickly retrieves a vial of oil, presenting it dutifully. Jim accepts it and removes the stopper; it’s a fine oil and has an appealing herby, musky scent - very Vulcan. He takes one of Spock’s hands in his, palm upward. Before Spock has a chance to react questioningly, he pours a small amount of oil on the Vulcan’s palm and begins massaging it in.
A small gasp escapes Spock’s lips.
Jim smiles as he gently rubs the oil into every part of his partner’s sensitive hands. Good. Things are going just as planned - he’s still a long way from drawing an emotional reaction from Spock, but responses to physical stimuli are a great and necessary first step. He pushes his thumb into the small of Spock’s palm and massages deeply between each finger. Every inch receives the closest attention, and Jim repeats the procedure on Spock’s other hand. When Jim releases him, Spock’s hands are trembling almost imperceptibly.
“There we go.” Jim leans back again. “How about you pick up where you left off?”
Spock nods once before enveloping Jim’s cock in his slick hands. As Spock’s sweet fingers stroke him gently and circle his pink head, he can’t help but let out a moan. Spock’s ministrations grow faster the more aroused Jim is; he’s leaking precum onto the poor thing’s fingers now.
“Oh, those hands were made for this,” Jim groans.
It takes only another minute or two of these artless attentions for Jim to suck in a deep breath and cum. Spock’s hands are covered with Jim’s warm spunk, and he watches the penis in his hands ejaculate with wide eyes while obediently continuing in his work until Jim waves him off with a hand on his.
“Good work, Spock,” Jim praises with a caress of Spock’s hand. “You did really well. Let me wipe you up before your next duties.”
Jim pulls one of the towels from the table and wraps it around each of Spock’s hands in turn, gently removing all traces of his cum.
Spock slips his hands out of the towel and folds them in his lap. Jim places a gentle finger beneath his chin.
“What do you say?” Jim prompts.
Spock’s hooded eyes lock with Jim’s.
“Thank you, sir,” he croaks.
“That’s a good boy.” Jim slaps Spock’s cheek lightly. “Now stand up, I have work for you to do.”
Spock obeys and stands in front of Jim while the human wipes his dick off and tucks it back into his pants. He pushes himself to his feet and reaches around Spock to pick up one of the towels. It’s different from the others; a special cleaning cloth, capable of scouring completely without soap, water, or sonic waves. He offers it to Spock, who accepts in confused hands.
“I want you to scrub these floors until they’re spotless.”
Spock looks askance at the cloth.
“Sir,” he responds, “this suite is clean. It would be a great disrespect to house you in a dirty room.”
And it is a great disrespect to imply we have done so hangs in the air unspoken.
“I know.”
As he says this, Jim lifts one of the vials of oil from the table. Maintaining full eye contact with Spock, he opens it and very deliberately drizzles all of its contents across the floor in the sitting area. Afterward, he picks up a couple items of food from the plate and does the same thing, crumbling them into small pieces. Jim returns to square off with the taller man.
“Now get to work.”
Spock’s face is stone.
“Yes, sir.”
Despite his haughty resentment, Spock stands bemusedly for a few moments, unsure how to proceed. Jim has to hide a smile at the haplessness he knows is only slightly exaggerated when it comes to chores.
“Hands and knees, Spock,” he sighs. “That’s how you really get things clean.”
Spock nods reluctantly and lowers himself to his knees.
“Yeah,” Jim sighs, relaxing into the couch again, “some people will tell you things get just as clean with a steamer or a sonic instead of by hand, but I say nothing beats a good handjob.”
Spock’s hair lifts and spins beautifully through the air when he whips his head around to direct a scandalized look at Jim, who serenely motions for him to get to work. With a blush staining his high cheekbones, Spock starts scrubbing. Jim leans back to enjoy the view, satisfied that his needling is getting him exactly the reactions he wants.
He feels extremely decadent, lounging and watching a nearly naked Spock stretch and reach to clean a mess of his own making. The Vulcan’s back muscles flex alluringly with each stroke of the cloth, and his hair and the tassels of his vestment dance every time he moves, grazing the filthy floor. His tight little ass is fully on display, and Jim can feel the beginnings of his next erection. When Spock really stretches, his panties ride up, making his tight cheeks even more visible.
He allows Spock to continue unimpeded for a long while, just enjoying the view and the feeling of his own cock gradually chubbing up. The knowledge of the humiliation and objectification he’s subjecting the kohlinar candidate to is just as arousing as the inviting body laboring in his line of sight. Once he reminds himself that he has all the time in the world to ogle Spock, he initiates the next part of the scene. Very quietly, Jim takes the glass of water and sets it a few inches behind the Vulcan. He knows that Spock is aware of what he’s doing but is feigning ignorance for the sake of the game. All he has to do is sit back and wait - not for long, as it turns out.
Spock maneuvers to better reach a particularly egregious cropping of crumbs, and as he does, his foot knocks the glass of water over. He whirls on his knees to see the culprit, and Jim clicks his tongue.
“That was unacceptable, Spock.” He shakes his head. “And you were doing so well.”
“I apologize, captain,” Spock explains. “I was not aware the glass was there. I will clean it and fetch you more water-”
“Yes you will,” Jim interrupts him. “But that’s not enough. You need to be disciplined for your mistake. I’m sure you’re well acquainted with discipline, hm, Mr. Spock?”
The Vulcan cautiously nods his head.
“Are you familiar,” Jim continues, “with the human practice referred to as spanking?”
“I am not, sir,” Spock lies.
Jim relishes in his next words.
“It’s a form of corporal punishment wherein the recipient is slapped on the buttocks repeatedly. I’ve found it teaches lessons very quickly.” He smirks at the memory of all the “lessons” he’s taught Spock using this particular tool. “Its speed and effectiveness make it a logical choice. Don’t you agree?”
Spock regards him coldly - were there any blatant emotion in the look, Jim would call it a glare.
“Corporal punishment is inherently illogical, captain.”
Warmth blooms in Jim’s chest at his husband’s moral stubbornness, and he needs to suppress an affectionate smile. He sets his mouth into a hard line and pats his lap.
“Perhaps this’ll change your mind. Get up here, over my knee.”
“‘Over your knee?’”
Jim narrows his eyes. In the context of this roleplay, Spock wouldn’t be familiar with the expression, but he knows the Vulcan is just pushing the limit of how much difficult behavior he can get away with - teasing tendrils extend from Spock’s mind to his in a challenge. But Jim won’t give him what he wants that easily.
“I believe I gave you an order, mister,” Jim announces, using his command voice. “If you’re confused about the latter half, get up here and I’ll show you. I won’t ask again.”
Spock waits just long enough for Jim to wonder if he’ll need to go get him. Then, haughtily, he stands and traverse the few steps to the couch, seating himself next to the human. He regards Jim with a raised eyebrow.
Irked by Spock’s instigating, Jim is none too gentle when he grabs his partner’s wrist and pulls him to lie across his knee. Spock betrays no reaction, even as Jim’s bulge presses into his side and Jim’s hand lifts his garment and bindings aside to fully reveal his panties.
“What are you being disciplined for, Spock?” he asks, running a hand up and down the Vulcan’s bare back.
“For an accident, sir.”
Oh, what a brat. Jim pinches his ass and presses a thumb against his clothed sheath. Spock willfully doesn’t react.
“Care to try again?”
Jim holds Spock’s waist and bindings with one hand while he rubs his thumb harder into Spock’s sheath with the other, pressing against where he knows his hole to be. Spock pauses before responding.
“I see no reason,” he dismisses, “to repeat what I have already stated correctly.”
Spock’s intent on making this easy for him, and Jim would laugh if it wasn’t so effective. He lays a quick slap on each of Spock’s cheeks and then grabs a handful of one, squeezing and jiggling appreciatively. He knows his grip is painful. Spock releases a deep breath.
Jim begins spanking Spock again, focusing his attention on the Vulcan’s sit spots and filling the air with a cacophony of satisfyingly loud cracking noises. Once he’s satisfied with the yellow tinge they’ve taken on, Jim moves his ministrations to the little peaks of Spock’s ass. Despite their leanness, they wobble a little with each hit, and Jim finds he could continue watching this forever.
After some time, he pauses to rub at Spock’s sheath again.
“Ready to tell me what you’re getting spanked for?”
“I already have,” Spock grits. “Sir.”
Jim barely waits for him to finish before restarting the spanking. He administers it with no rhyme or reason now - not focusing specifically on any particular area, just blanketing the entire narrow ass with blistering slaps. Spock’s breathing has grown heavier. Jim’s own hand is smarting, but he ignores it in the name of doling out some much needed punishment to the Vulcan brat.
“You know,” he muses, not stopping, “for someone basing his whole life around discipline, you were really in sore need of some.”
Spock squirms very slightly, and Jim pauses to resume groping him. His ass is nice and warm.
“Maybe if spanking was used on Vulcan you wouldn’t be such a brat now. Would’ve made my work much easier.”
Jim lays down another dozen or so hard slaps. When he stops again, he shoves his fingers against Spock’s crotch. It’s damp.
“Got anything you wanna say to me?”
The taller man’s shoulders rise and fall, and Jim stops his idle fondling. Just as he’s about to start the punishment again, Spock’s voice pipes up.
“You are disciplining me,” he rumbles, “because I knocked over a glass of water.”
“Good boy!”
Jim lays down his final slaps especially hard, and Spock jerks at several. During the last three, one on each cheek and one in the center, Spock gasps and stiffens against Jim’s lap. He shakes slightly, and his ass clenches. Jim doesn’t realize until he goes limp that the Vulcan’s just come. He almost laughs in his delight - Spock must have been more turned on than he’d even suspected if he’d come from such little stimulation.
“Was that so hard, honey?” he coos, running his hand over Spock’s punished behind.
“No, sir,” Spock whispers.
“Didn’t that feel nice?”
“Yes, sir,” Spock breathes, barely audible.
Jim pats him amiably and reaches for one of the vials of oil.
“Don’t worry, I’m not just gonna send you back to work with no relief,” he assures. “You’re much too pretty to ride hard and put away wet.”
If Jim wasn’t already sure Spock was worn out from his spanking and orgasm, the fact he doesn’t question this expression is proof enough. Jim pulls down Spock’s panties, revealing the man’s full ass. Spock clenches and shifts uncomfortably - Jim enjoys watching his punished cheeks wriggle. He tips the vial and drizzles oil across them.
Spock gasps when it hits his skin, and Jim redoubles his hold on the Vulcan’s trim waist. Once he’s poured all the oil he wants onto Spock’s rear, he sets down the bottle and places both hands on his ass.
He massages the Vulcan’s little ass expertly, rubbing the oil in and kneading very thoroughly. On one particularly hard stroke, Spock releases a small noise. Jim continues caressing the sore, ochre bottom without betraying he’s heard it. The slick shine of the oil is gratifying, and he decides to utilize it further.
Jim dips his oily fingers into the crease between Spock’s cheeks, prodding gently at the tight furrow that lies between. Spock’s remarkably tense, and Jim moves his fingers lower still until they’re sliding between the folds of his sheath. The Vulcan jerks at this and remains tense when Jim refocuses his attentions to his overly sensitive, pleasingly chubby lips. When Spock is appropriately slicked, Jim firmly pulls his panties back into place and gives him a final slap.
“Up, up, up! You’ve still got work to do.”
Spock pushes himself to his feet, measuredly looking away from Jim. He starts to walk away until the human catches hold of the long bonds trailing behind him.
“Ah, ah,” Jim grins. “Looks like you weren’t listening earlier. What do you say?”
Spock presses his lips together.
“Thank you, sir,” he whispers.
“Very good.”
Jim releases Spock and allows him to return to his work. Spock bashfully takes to his hands and knees and continues to scrub the floor. The view is even more tantalizing now - the peeks he gets of Spock’s ass are now of thoroughly punished, glistening cheeks, and the Vulcan’s little panties are soaked with the oil. They cling enticingly to the cleft in their middle and to the lips of his sheath. It's frankly obscene.
Spock is chastened now, and he makes quick work of the remaining mess. Having finished, he returns to his feet. Jim feigns preoccupation, pretending to be reading something on his padd and humiliating Spock further by acting as though he hasn’t even been watching. He continues in the charade until Spock is forced to speak.
“Captain.”
Jim looks up distractedly.
“Yes, Spock?”
The Vulcan clasps his hands behind his back.
“I believe I have finished, sir.”
Jim cranes his neck slightly, glancing at the floor.
“Looks like you have,” he shrugs. “Come over here and sit next to me.”
Spock shifts from foot to foot and walks over, eyes on the floor, to seat himself primly next to Jim. The human pulls out his penis once again, and Spock looks away. Egged on by his partner’s coquettishness, Jim places a hand on Spock’s neck and guides him to lie on his side, facing Jim with his dark-haired head resting in his lap. He can feel Spock’s breath coming in cool bursts against the head of his dick. Jim strokes his fingers over the point of Spock’s ear.
“Do you know what a blow job is, Spock?”
Spock’s dark eyes rove from Jim’s dick to his face.
“It is oral sex?”
“Very good.” Jim rewards him with a brush of his cock over the soft lips. “Try not to use your teeth.”
Spock opens and closes his mouth twice, like a handsome fish Jim thinks with a smirk, and returns his gaze to the dick in front of him. Jim gently pushes the head forward until his lips are pressed to its tip. Spock blanches before breathing deeply and wrapping his mouth around the head.
“That’s it,” Jim sighs.
Spock sucks a little before releasing it and administering kitten licks all around the head. After a pause, he lays light human kiss against the shaft. Having had his fill of licks and kisses, Jim pushes Spock’s head again until his dick rests on the Vulcan’s tongue. He impels Spock back and forward gently before letting go, allowing him to continue on his own.
Spock is a quick learner and keeps bobbing his head even without prompting, taking the human cock deeper with each nod. Jim cards his hand through long, dark hair while resting the other on Spock’s hip, giving it an affectionate squeeze whenever the bottom does especially well. As usual, his mouth feels phenomenal - tight and cool and just rough enough to provide some tantalizingly stimulating friction.
“Oh, what a mouth,” Jim grunts, petting Spock’s side.
At that, the Vulcan culminates his long minutes of bobbing by taking Jim’s cock into his throat. Although he has no gag reflex and can hold his breath longer than a human, his eyelids flutter shut as he swallows expertly around the human’s member.
By Spock’s third swallow, Jim fists his hand in the long hair and lets out a groan, coming in great leaps down the taller man’s throat. Spock drinks it down for the interminable seconds it takes Jim to finish, his sweet lips stretched around the thick cock.
When Jim pulls away, Spock coughs, muffling the reflex by turning his head into Jim’s thigh. Jim allows him a minute to rest, petting him and muttering words of praise. When Spock catches his hand and squeezes, he knows it’s time to continue.
“Alright.” He gives Spock’s thigh a quick slap. “Get up, get the cloth, and put it in the laundry next to the bed.”
Spock jumps at the slap and rises to his feet.
“Yes, sir,” he rasps.
Spock hastens over to the area of floor he just cleaned and retrieves the cloth. As he does this, Jim grabs the plate of snacks from the table and sets them next to himself. Spock begins the walk to the bedroom, but as he passes the couch, Jim kicks his feet out from beneath him. Spock gasps, dropping the cloth and falling directly into Jim’s lap. He instinctively grips the human’s strong shoulders to steady himself. Realizing what he’s done, he wrenches his hands back to his chest.
“Oh, such a clumsy little thing,” Jim tuts, wrapping his arms around the Vulcan. He can imagine nothing better than a lapful of Spock.
“My apologies, sir,” Spock husks.
“It’s alright, honey. Someone as pretty as you can’t be expected to be too steady on his feet.”
Spock’s cheeks color very slightly. Jim chuckles and nudges him.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Spock, I’m only teasing you.”
“The intricacies of human interaction,” Spock huffs, “are frequently beyond me, sir.”
Jim hums in response as he retrieves a snack from the plate - a granola cluster. He raises it to Spock’s lips. The Vulcan hesitates before opening his mouth and accepting it. When he’s finished chewing, Jim repeats the gesture, this time placing his fingers in Spock’s mouth and forcing him to suck around them in order to retrieve the morsel. With the next, he runs his thumb over the Vulcan’s full lower lip. He feeds Spock half a dozen granola bites in total, each time finding some excuse to sensually touch his desert brown lips.
He pops a handful of granola clusters into his own mouth, chewing loudly and eschewing his usual table manners in favor of playing up his role as the entitled hotshot.
“Better?” he asks, mouth still full.
“Yes,” Spock sighs. “Thank you, sir.”
“Of course.” Jim swallows. “I take very good care of everything that belongs to me.”
Spock nods, and they sit in silence for a few moments, both resting.
Jim brushes his fingertips over the Vulcan symbol on Spock’s robe.
“What does this mean?”
Spock’s breath hitches as the silken garment brushes against his nipples.
“ V’ree’lat ,” he whispers. “To search.”
Jim turns Spock toward him with a featherlight touch. Once they face each other, he ghosts his fingers over the Vulcan’s arched lips.
“What do you search for, Mr. Spock?”
Spock slowly lifts his eyes to meet Jim’s. He breathes deeply, and Jim can feel the cool breath against his skin. Jim sweeps a curtain of Spock’s hair over his shoulder, causing it to brush against Spock’s neck in a way that makes him shiver. When Spock responds, it is barely audible.
“Answers.”
When Jim leans forward and presses their lips together in a chaste kiss, the Vulcan does not react. Once he pulls back, he sees that Spock has simply sat stock still and straight, eyes wide open. Jim smiles indulgently.
“Your first kiss?”
Spock nods.
“Well, I call that a crime and a shame,” Jim muses, playing with a strand of Spock’s hair. “Pretty thing like you should be getting lots of kisses.”
Spock just looks at him.
“I’m gonna teach you how, sweet thing,” Jim continues. “Just follow my lead.”
“Yes, sir,” Spock rasps.
And then Jim is kissing him again, holding Spock tight by the waist, starting chaste and gentle before pressing hard against Spock’s lips and prompting him to part them. As soon as he obeys, Jim opens his as well and slips his tongue into Spock’s mouth. He can taste himself on the Vulcan, and Spock makes a small noise against him.
Jim kisses him for an interminable time, sucking and biting his lips, searching his cool mouth, landing pecks on the edges of his lips. Spock is a pretentiously artless quick study, cooperatively mouthing at Jim and puckering his lips when prompted. Jim smiles, sensing poorly concealed enthusiasm early on. He gropes Spock’s breast with one hand, tweaking and pinching his nipples. The kiss devolves into a true expression of love between the t’hy’la on several occasions, both united in a haze of comfortable pleasure through their bond. When they finally part for good, Spock’s lips are kiss-swollen and glistening with spit. His breathing is elevated, and, once again devoted to the roleplay, he looks at Jim through his lowered eyelashes. He starts to lift his hand but then stops, leaving it to hover in the air.
Jim grins and takes it, raising it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against the bony knuckles. Spock’s hand spasms.
The human uses his grip to direct Spock to straddle his lap. Spock shakily obeys, and his bottom rests against Jim’s lap. The two’s faces are practically touching, and Jim can’t resist pressing a peck to the tip of Spock’s nose. He feels a quick burst of affection transmitted to him through the bond and returns it. Then he lifts the front of Spock’s robe and drapes it over his own head. He looks up at the taller man through the diaphanous fabric - he’s hazy and beautiful, like an actress in an ancient black and white movie filmed with Vaseline slapped on the camera lens. The confusion plain on the handsome face incites Jim into continuing with what he has in mind.
Jim cups each of Spock’s breasts in his hands and fixes his lips around a nipple, sucking hard. The Vulcan stiffens and grips Jim’s biceps, leaning into the touch. Jim alternates between kitten licks, tonguing strokes, hard sucks, and using his teeth. His nipples are hard and perky, and Jim loves feeling them in his mouth. Spock keens, rolling his hips a little against Jim’s midsection. Jim knows that every time Spock looks down, he’ll see the human pleasuring him through the veil of his garment. His face, his body, and his actions will be overlaid with the symbols and ideals of Vulcan logic and control. And Spock will be ashamed.
As Jim revels in this fact, Spock keens at some particularly intense suckling. While Jim continues swirling his tongue and using his hand to tweak and fondle the flesh beyond his mouth’s reach, Spock’s legs shake, and he tries to pull away. Jim reprimands him with a sharp bite and continues for several more minutes until the quivering has reached a fever pitch and every one of Jim’s moves draws gasps from Spock’s lips. Satisfied that he’s driven Spock to the point of desperation and over-sensitivity, Jim pulls off with a pop and ducks out from below the garment.
“I think,” he ponders, caressing Spock’s hip approvingly, “we might be ready to move to the bedroom.”
At this, he pulls Spock tighter against himself, deliberately pressing his burgeoning erection against his partner’s vulnerable crotch. Spock gasps lightly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy,” Jim beams. “Go get another glass of water, take a few drinks from it, and then meet me on the bed.”
With a nudge from Jim, Spock stands, picking up the cloth from the floor and hurrying to follow Jim’s instructions. The human grabs the oil and ambles over to the bed, lounging against the pillows and waiting for Spock. His partner arrives promptly and sits next to Jim, lifting the glass of water to him. Jim takes it and drinks deeply before placing it aside. He holds Spock’s hand and gazes at him seriously.
“Did you take a drink?”
Spock nods, squeezing the hand held in his. Jim lets go and grasps Spock’s biceps, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. When they part, he rubs his hands up and down the thin arms before settling on the Vulcan’s hips. He slips his fingers beneath the oil-soaked panties and tugs. Spock shakily aids him by lifting his hips and legs, allowing Jim to pull them off and toss them to the floor. Spock is now entirely nude except for his ritual garment, which Jim lifts aside to get an unobstructed view of his sheath; it’s very pretty, tinted brown and covered in neatly trimmed dark hair. His clit is just visible peaking through the puffy lips. Jim rubs his thumb over it and feels Spock stiffen.
“Very nice. Turn over for me, knees and elbows.”
Spock obeys, and his long hair falls like a curtain over his face. His garment is out of the way, and his long, weak bindings run behind his knees. The position leaves his most private parts completely exposed. Jim takes in the view as he maneuvers to his knees next to him. He rests a proprietary hand on one of Spock’s cheeks, jiggling it slightly before reaching his other hand up to play with his sheath.
Jim starts by rubbing his fingers over the wet lips, taking his time to appreciate every inch of Spock’s chubby sheath. He lands a slap on his skinny ass and uses both hands to squeeze them for a moment before returning his attentions to Spock’s most sensitive areas with renewed vigor, using one hand to circle his asshole and the other to rub at his swollen clit. When the Vulcan begins twitching, Jim penetrates his ass with one hooked finger while beginning to massage at his dripping hole. Once his hand is soaked with the man’s slick, he slips his thumb into the loose sheath.
“Oh, so loose,” Jim murmurs. “Don’t tell me no one’s ever fucked this pretty pussy before.”
Ignoring Spock’s squirming and satisfied with this exploratory penetration, he withdraws his thumb and begins to manually stimulate Spock again, massaging him thoroughly and finishing with a few light slaps to his lips that make him jump. He revels in the wet noises this produces and starts gently pumping a finger in Spock’s ass while inserting two into his pussy. The man’s breathing heavily, and he releases a quiet moan when Jim slips in a third finger and begins thrusting deeply and more aggressively. His slick is pooling steadily against Jim’s hand.
After several minutes of this, Spock is panting. When Jim withdraws his fingers, the Vulcan’s hips instinctually follow them backwards.
“It’s okay honey, I know you want more.”
“I do not-”
Spock’s choked denial is cut off with a yelp as Jim buries his face in the dripping sheath, licking from his clit to his asshole and back again before pulling back to blow gently on his soaked cleft. The human steadies himself by gripping one of Spock’s skinny cheeks in each hand. He squeezes intermittently as he retakes his place between Spock’s thighs, licking expertly at his clit and dipping his tongue into his hole until the Vulcan shakes and his legs squeeze around Jim’s head, soaking his face in more wetness from another orgasm.
Jim withdraws with a satisfied smile, licking his lips and wiping his face as Spock quivers beneath him. Spock’s just about broken down; a little more, and he’ll be displaying enough emotion to make anyone blush. He sweeps the man’s long hair over his shoulder, revealing his flushed, dazed face. His angular cheek is pressed into the bed, and Jim leans across his back to kiss him sloppily. Spock moans into his mouth; he’s too out of it to be embarrassed by this when the human pulls away. Jim wipes the slick covering his hand on Spock’s face, slipping a finger into his pleasantly cool mouth. Spock has already sucked it clean before realization overtakes him and he recoils, burying his face in the mattress.
Jim nudges Spock through their bond, gently inquiring how he’s holding up. A breathless confirmation manifests in his psyche, and he smiles while pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Spock’s neck and running a soothing hand down his lean back. He rises and kneels behind his partner.
“You know,” Jim muses, pulling out his dick again, “only thing that’d make that ass look better is my initials branded right” - Jim administers a hard pinch to Spock’s cheek - “here.”
Spock shakes his head just enough for Jim to notice, and the human smirks as he opens the vial and applies more oil to his hands. Once he’s slicked up his dick to a point where he knows Spock won’t get hurt, he lines the head up along the Vulcan’s slit. He can see Spock clench, and he reaches out a gentle hand to rub over his lower back.
“It’s okay,” he soothes, “you’re doing well. Just relax for me. You’ve been so good so far, can you keep being good and relax?”
After a moment, he hears a very quiet, very muffled, “Yes, sir,” and Spock’s muscles relax.
Jim teases the tip of his penis across Spock’s lips, slowly rubbing it over his clit before pushing into his sopping hole. Spock breathes very deeply as he enters, but he remains relaxed enough that Jim bottoms out with almost no resistance. As usual, Spock feels insanely good, but he feels even better with all this pageantry and buildup. Jim groans as the tight, wet heat envelopes him.
“Good boy,” he hisses. “Very good boy.”
He gives Spock a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Even when he speaks again, the Vulcan’s still quivering.
“Fold your arms under your head.”
Slowly but surely, his partner complies and is in the requested position in no time - face down, head supported, body flat against the mattress with Jim’s cock deep inside him. The human adjusts his own position to match, planting his hands on either side of Spock’s thin arms before he starts undulating his hips and thrusting shallowly. He draws short bursts of breath from Spock with each movement, fueled by the attractive planes of his husband’s shoulders. He removes one hand to anchor himself on Spock’s lower back, pressing intermittent kisses across the sensitive area with his first two fingers. After a minute or so of this, he begins pushing harder, pulling out and thrusting back into the root hard enough that Spock rocks forward on the mattress. He’s shaking in earnest now, and his pussy spasms around Jim’s thick cock.
Without warning, Jim pulls Spock’s arms out from under his head and grabs him by the wrists. He efficiently yanks them behind Spock, hauling the bottom up to his knees. Spock chokes as Jim continues thrusting, but there’s nothing he can do to alleviate this humiliating position; Jim has him immobilized. From this new angle, the human’s cock drives deeper into Spock’s pussy, and the Vulcan lets out little whimpers with each hard thrust.
“You know, I find it hard to believe,” Jim grunts, “that there’s no rogues out in the vast Vulcan desert who might stumble on you,” - he punctuates his next declaration with especially harsh strokes - “looking like this, all alone, and fuck you like the filthy little whore you are.”
“No,” Spock gasps, “no, sir-”
Jim slams his clothed hips against Spock’s ass, cutting him off with a yelp.
“Don’t lie, Spock.”
“I do not-” the bottom pants, “Vulcans do not- cannot lie- sir-!”
“I don’t believe that,” Jim growls, “for a second.”
He unceremoniously drops Spock’s arms, forcing the Vulcan to fall forward as Jim pulls out. Spock is shivering, and his back rises and falls with each of his gulping breaths.
Jim plants a hard slap on Spock’s ass, idly appreciating the view he has of his partner’s loose sheath.
“Roll over on your side.”
After a beat, Spock obeys, and Jim feels such a rush of tenderness upon seeing his face that he has to stop himself from surging forward and cradling him in his arms. Spock’s bangs are mussed and his eyes are wide, his lips parted, and he breathes like a scared rabbit. The way his garment pools against the bed, useless and leaving him completely exposed, completes the effect. Jim steels himself and shrugs off his shirt.
Spock’s line of sight doesn’t escape Jim - he can see the Vulcan drinking in his flushed, bare skin.
“Like what you see?”
Spock jerks his head side to side and up and down in a stilted combination of a nod and a shake. Jim licks his lips and removes his pants. The Vulcan stares at the newly revealed flesh blatantly. Jim grins and sets upon him, positioning himself on his side from behind and grinding his dick against Spock’s sensitive ass. He loops one arm beneath Spock’s neck and around his chest, letting the bottom rest his head against his bicep. As he guides himself back into the welcoming hole, he fondles Spock’s oversensitive nipple, drawing a whimper from him.
“That’s good, Spock,” he husks in the Vulcan’s ear, “that’s very good, even if you’re a shameless little lying slut.”
Jim finishes his statement by biting at the pointed ear next to his face, and Spock yelps at the unexpected surge of pain. Re-establishing his intense thrusting pace, Jim sucks and kisses on the abused ear in apology.
“I do not lie, sir,” Spock whimpers.
“Are you sure that’s the hill you wanna die on here?”
He pinches and gropes Spock’s nipples and breasts and moves his steadying hand from Spock’s sharp hipbone to his sheath, again circling his swollen clit with skillful fingers. Spock squirms, but he can’t get away - at his back he’s met with Jim’s cock, and at his front with his relentless hands. His legs quiver uncontrollably, and he keens.
“Good, good, doing so good,” Jim murmurs.
The human is reveling in Spock’s tight pussy, his most sensitive areas beneath his hands, their bodies pressed together in a tight embrace. He knows Spock is close to breaking, and he thrusts deeply for several more minutes, drawing moans from Spock’s exhausted lips.
When Jim pulls out again, Spock openly whines.
The top ignores him, instead positioning himself so he is sitting comfortably with his back against the cushions on the bed. When Spock turns dazed, desperate eyes to look at him, he takes his cock in hand and gives it a shake.
“Up here, honey,” he orders, patting his lap. “Facing me.”
Spock just stares at him.
“Do I need to repeat myself or do you need another reminder of what happens when you misbehave?”
Spock blinks, shaking his head and moving to obey.
“No, sir.”
He crawls over and positions himself above Jim’s lap. Before he can seat himself, Jim grabs his hip and stops him.
“You’re gonna sink onto my cock real nice and slow, alright Spock?”
The Vulcan nods once, eyes averted and lips pressed together tightly. Jim begins guiding him down, forcing him to lower himself at an excruciatingly slow pace. Millimeter by millimeter, he can see Spock’s resolve breaking. His cock is barely halfway inside Spock when his husband speaks up.
“Sir,” he grunts, “please.”
Jim looks at him questioningly, feigning innocence and pausing his partner’s slow descent altogether.
“What was that, Spock?”
The bottom releases a deep breath through his nose but remains silent.
“Spock,” Jim says, performatively concerned, “I’m not gonna continue until you say what it is you want to say. I’m honored to have any input from one so revered as a kohlinar candidate.”
Spock’s dark eyes flash, and his face colors an impossibly deeper shade of ochre.
“Continue,” he whispers, “please, sir.”
Jim shrugs.
“If you insist.”
With that, he slams Spock’s skinny ass into his own hips, bottoming out instantly and pulling a shout from Spock’s throat. He hisses at the renewed pleasure of being buried deep inside the Vulcan and plants his hands on Spock’s bottom to begin bouncing him. With each movement, Spock lets out a small moan.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you, honey? Couldn’t wait to have this cock back inside you where it belongs.”
Spock squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head wildly.
“You can admit it, sweetheart.” He leans forward, mouthing along Spock’s neck, nipping at his bobbing Adam’s apple. “It’s just you and me here. Of course,” he huffs, “I will be making a full report to your superiors before I leave.”
Spock whimpers, hiding his face in Jim’s shoulder. Jim has Spock bouncing so hard that the only noises in the room are their breathing and the plap plap plap of Spock’s ass slapping against Jim’s hips. After several minutes of this, Jim forces Spock to stop, seated fully in his lap. Before the Vulcan can even whine or shoot him a questioning look, Jim’s flipped them so that he’s fucking Spock in missionary.
In this new position, Spock moans and instinctually wraps his skinny legs around Jim’s ample midsection as the human resumes his thrusting with renewed vigor. Jim can get even deeper with Spock folded like this, and he leans down so their faces are brushing.
“Tell me,” Jim growls, “tell me how you feel.”
“I do not-”
“ Liar ,” Jim hisses, slamming into Spock and rolling his hips.
Spock yells, putting on a show of trying to escape but in reality just holding Jim tighter.
“Please,” Spock chokes, “please sir, please-”
Jim ignores him and continues slamming in to Spock, the violent movement sending waves of pleasure through his dick. Spock pants and gasps and pretends to try to push him away.
“Please, it’s too much-!”
The human laves his tongue along Spock’s neck and jaw while jackhammering in and out of him, immune to the Vulcan’s begging.
Spock sobs.
Jim grins. The floodgates are open.
The Vulcan’s wrecked face is now contorted with poorly suppressed emotion, his eyes welling with tears. Jim reaches up two fingers and wipes the moisture away from his cheek.
“Oh, there we go. There we go, honey.”
“Please,” Spock cries, “please, captain, you’ve done what you’ve been tasked to do- you’ve made me fail- please, no more- have mercy-”
“Nuh uh, mister,” Jim grunts, “you’re mine until I leave Vulcan. Maybe,” he breathes in Spock’s ear, “I’ll extend my stay. Stick around for a month or two.”
Spock’s feigned weeping is very pretty, and his mewling whimpers only further fuel Jim’s claiming of him. The bottom is shaking ever harder, his breath growing ever more ragged, his legs squeezing ever tighter around Jim’s middle.
“No,” he cries, “stop, stop…”
His pleas trail off into a quiet wail as his pleasure crests into an orgasm. The Vulcan’s whole body shakes, and Jim can feel wetness spread between their bodies as he squirts. This in tandem with his pussy’s contractions bring Jim closer to his own climax.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans, “oh fuck, Spock, I’m gonna come-”
“No,” Spock sobs, “no, don’t-”
The fake pleading is what finally throws Jim over the edge, and he groans as he shoots thick, hot ropes of come into Spock for endless long seconds. The pair moan together as he finishes, and Jim collapses atop Spock, still buried deep inside him.
They’re both too exhausted to speak or move, so they stay this way for a couple minutes, communicating wordlessly through their bond. Jim lavishes praise on Spock, who accepts it happily and shares his enjoyment of the scene. They check in, both transmitting their well-being to the other. Finally, Jim inquires if Spock wants to stay in the holodeck or deactivate the program.
“End program,” Spock croaks aloud.
As the bedroom falls away around them, Jim pulls out of Spock and looks him in the eye. His long hair is gone, replaced with his real style, and he’s relaxed. Jim shoots him a smile and bends down so they can share a kiss.
“Let me carry you to the fresher,” Jim hums when they part.
“I am quite capable of walking-”
“I know you are, but don’t pretend you don’t love a bridal carry.”
Spock shrugs teasingly.
“ If you insist ,” he imitates.
Jim tosses the discarded clothes onto Spock’s torso before hefting him into his arms and exiting the holodeck. Spock hits the sonic clean setting as they exit, and Jim feels a burst of affection at his husband’s present-mindedness despite just being fucked six ways from Sunday.
“Should we take a sonic shower or a water shower?” he asks, ascending the stairs.
“Although I do enjoy bathing with you,” Spock mutters, resting his head against Jim’s shoulder, “I would like to get completely clean first and foremost. Perhaps we can take a water shower or bath together later.”
Jim agrees, and they quickly get clean and change, Spock into a breezy robe and Jim into loose pants and a t-shirt. Within 10 minutes of leaving the holodeck, the two are lounging together on the couch with music playing and food on the way. Jim has an arm around Spock, caressing him absentmindedly, and Spock holds his hand.
“Was it what you wanted?” Jim asks.
“Yes. And you?”
Jim presses a kiss to Spock’s cheek.
“Yes.”
“How would you have behaved,” Spock ventures, “had I been presented to you in that manner in our true lives?”
“Well,” Jim ponders, “I would admire you. And I would sit with you in my room, talking and getting to know you. I would offer you my bed, and I would sleep on the couch instead.” He squeezes Spock’s hand. “And I’d fall madly in love with you.”
Spock hums.
“That was an exemplary answer.”
Their home transporter springs to life with the Vulcan takeout they had ordered. They’ll eat, spend some time within their bond, take a long water shower, and turn into bed in each other’s arms.
It was definitely what they both wanted.