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Jim didn't know what he'd thought would happen once he and Spock finally acknowledged the thing between them; once that dam finally broke. Maybe sex on every flat surface, every shared off-duty minute (that had sort of come true). Maybe he'd had vague thoughts of sudden awkwardness and embarrassment, like once they'd seen each other naked, they'd have nothing left to talk about. Maybe he'd thought that once that tension was gone, the appeal of spending time together would fade.
He was pretty stupid to have ever thought that the tension would disappear. That minute furrow of concentration between Spock's brows was the hottest thing he'd ever seen and the chess board between them may as well have been a wall, holding him back from diving on Spock and pressing his lips to that furrow and then letting them travel where they may after that. The room felt unbearably hot all of a sudden, and it wasn't because he'd cranked up the temperature in consideration of Spock's comfort.
Spock's long fingers slid down over the top of his queen as he prepared to move it, and Jim decided that honouring the weekly chess tradition tonight was the stupidest decision ever made between them. He had no interest in the game and couldn't bring himself to focus, when every little thing Spock did felt like a tease and all the blood was rushing out of his brain to head south for the winter. It would probably be rude and selfish to insist they give up, though. Spock really liked playing chess, and Jim thought his teenage libido must get annoying sometimes.
But Jim was a genius, goddammit, and he knew how to problem-solve creatively. So, when Spock used the queen to take one of his pawns, Jim reached down to pull off his boot.
"What are you doing?" Spock asked, when Jim threw the boot in the general direction of his closet and then settled back in his chair, clearly not planning to take off the other one.
"Thought we should change it up tonight. Raise the stakes. Taking a pawn's worth a boot, don't you agree?"
Since Spock was a genius too, it only took a few seconds for him to figure out what was going on. He crossed his arms. "I see. I was unaware that chess was becoming boring for you."
Jim caught the hint of amusement in Spock's tone and grinned back, putting a bishop in play.
Spock captured another pawn a few minutes later and watched attentively as Jim swung his other foot up onto the table, unzipping the boot leisurely before pulling it off and tossing it across the room to join its mate.
When Jim made his first pawn capture, the sight of Spock taking off his own boot (and setting it down neatly on the floor beside his chair) made him want to knock the chessboard off the table and leap across it, but he managed to rein himself in. In moments like this, he could almost admit that he nearly thought he loved Spock.
The gameplay got aggressive, and before long Spock was barefoot while Jim had lost his socks and his gold overshirt. Frankly, it had felt good to take it off, given the warmth of his cabin. Spock was playing his best attack game and Jim needed to focus.
Jim made a knight capture that saw Spock's blue shirt joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor, and that was when he realized there was a glitch in his plan. For him, losing clothes and keeping cool was helping him focus, but Spock taking his clothes off was just distracting. Jim realized with a sinking feeling, four moves later, that he'd just fallen into a really blatant trap for his queen. He sighed and slumped his shoulders as Spock plucked it off of the board. Jim reached for the hem of his undershirt, already trying to come up with a recovery plan to salvage the game.
Spock interrupted his thoughts, his tone calm as ever. "I believe that, given the queen is worth nine points in an exchange, such a material loss equates to the removal of trousers."
Jim stared, his hands frozen on the hem of his shirt, while thoughts rattled around his brain trying to make a mental connection. Finally, it hit him like a brick: yes, Spock had just shanghaied him into taking off his pants. He looked down, biting back his smile, and then got to his feet.
"Well-played, Commander," he said, reaching for his zipper.
Spock didn't respond, just watched his hands intently. Jim smiled as seductively as he knew how and undid the button slowly, dragging the zipper down so gently it was almost silent. He turned a little to the side to show off his ass as he peeled his pants down over his hips, the fabric sliding against his boxers as he eased the pants down his thighs. When he reached his knees, he let them drop and stepped out of them casually, and then picked them up to toss on top of the clothing pile. His erection showed pretty plainly through his boxers, he thought smugly as he sat back down.
A little shrewd use of pawns and a knight led to Spock losing his undershirt, and muscles shifted and flexed deliciously under his pale skin as he leaned forward to take his next move. Jim had pushed him to the defensive but thought suddenly that he was bound to lose that advantage pretty quickly, given that most of his brain was now devoted to the study of Spock's pectorals. He wondered if losing his own undershirt would even things up some more.
He was already so distracted that he leaned forward to touch his rook before realizing that he'd meant to use the knight, instead. He took his fingers off of it but Spock raised an eyebrow at him.
"If you touch it, you must move it."
Jim looked at the board and swore. He was screwed if he moved the rook at this point. Spock clearly was aware of that, and waited patiently for Jim to do something, his arms crossed over his bare chest.
Well, he might lose the game, but chess wasn't the foremost thing on Jim's mind, anyway. He pushed his chair back and stood up, peeling his undershirt off over his head and throwing it on the floor before stalking around the table and swinging a leg over Spock's lap.
"I concede," he said, his voice husky, and Spock's eyes were dark as his warm hands slid up Jim's thighs.
Jim leaned in for a kiss, forceful and deep and filthy, his tongue licking into Spock's mouth, sliding hot and slick against Spock's tongue as they pushed against each other, breathing harshly through their noses and moaning softly. Spock's hands found a firm grip on his ass and Jim rocked his hips forward, pushing up tight against that smooth, bare chest and grinding their cocks together through their clothing. Spock groaned, his fingers digging into Jim's ass hard enough to bruise, and Jim thrust again, hissing with pleasure.
Spock leaned in and Jim thought he was thrusting back at first, but then Spock kept leaning, his hands sliding to the undersides of Jim's thighs, and Jim had to grab at Spock's shoulders for balance as he was hoisted into the air and dumped on the table. The chessboard was shoved back, pieces rolling everywhere and clattering to the floor, and Jim had to dig a pawn out from under his ass, throwing it into the clothes pile.
Spock took advantage of his distraction by swooping in to suck at his collarbone. Jim threw his head back and let his eyes drift shut, trailing his hand from Spock's shoulder up into his hair and burying his fingers in the soft strands. Just as he was getting into that, and hoping Spock would move a little lower, he was shoved flat on his back on the table, more chess pieces rolling around behind his head, and Spock was yanking down his boxers. Jim gasped and arched when two fingers trailed lightly from the base to the tip of his erection, anticipating maybe a handjob, but then the contact was gone and he groaned.
"If you touch it...." he panted.
Spock actually chuckled faintly, because he was the worst fucking tease in the Alpha Quadrant, and brushed his lips down Jim's stomach, bypassing his cock and pushing his thighs apart with strong hands. Then he stepped away.
"Wait here," Spock said in his authoritative tone (so rarely used, except on Jim and mostly in the bedroom).
Jim whimpered and let his head drop back down, hitting the chessboard with a rattle. Spock apparently bent spacetime while walking across the room, because it felt like a century before he was back in front of Jim with a tube of lube in his hand.
"I hate you," Jim complained.
"That is a lie." Spock wasn't even looking at Jim, sprawled flushed and wanton across the table; he was paying way too much attention to the lube as he squeezed some out on his fingertips, rubbing it slowly along the pads.
"It's definitely not, as long as you keep not touching me."
"Acknowledged," Spock said, sliding his finger into Jim.
A snappy response died on Jim's lips and he arched his back. It didn't feel tight, because they'd been doing this a lot recently. He let Spock twist and rub for a moment and then managed to pant, "More."
Spock obliged, and there was that stretch that he craved. Spock twisted his fingers and hit Jim's prostate, making him buck his hips.
"You're killing me," Jim gasped.
Spock leaned in to kiss him as he added a third finger and Jim arched his back and bit at Spock's lips as the fingers worked. Spock was flushed and breathing hard; his sensitive hands meant he was getting off on this alone, but Jim wasn't done with him yet.
"Come on," he said. "Come on."
Jim finally heard Spock undo his pants and kissed him fiercely, wrapping his legs around Spock's waist as Spock lubed himself up. Spock grabbed Jim's hips and dragged him effortlessly across the table, lining him up to thrust inside.
"God!" Jim's head thudded against the table. Another slow, powerful thrust. "Yes. Yes. That's it."
Spock was mostly upright, his hands braced against the table as he rocked into Jim. He was too far away; Jim levered himself upright, feeling the slide of the table against the floor more strongly as he did, and braced himself with one hand curled over the edge as he grabbed the back of Spock's head with the other.
The kiss was sloppy, wet, completely lacking finesse; the only thing really worth any attention right then was the way Spock slid hotly in and out of Jim, occasionally brushing against his prostate and sending shocks through him. Jim felt a sudden need for more leverage and stretched out a foot behind Spock. He made contact with a chair, pushed back from the table and abandoned, and braced himself against it, pushing forward and up.
"Fuck!" he yelled. That was it. That was... oh. A litany of profanity uncurled in his brain.
"Touch me, Spock," he whispered into one pointed ear. His voice was hoarse.
Strong fingers wrapped around his cock, pumping firmly in time with Spock's thrusts, and Jim swore aloud at the same time as Spock let loose a deep, passionate moan.
"Yeah," Jim said, his lips ghosting across Spock's earlobe, "you like that, don't you? Come on, harder."
The table scraped loudly on the floor as Spock thrust hard into Jim, his hand twisting against Jim's cock, and maybe the table was going to collapse but Jim hoped he finished before that happened, because this was amazing. He let himself go, rocking his hips up in time with Spock, the chair wobbling under his foot, loud, hoarse sounds ripping from his throat. Pressure built behind his cock and behind his eyes.
Spock came inside him with a shudder and the intensity, the unchecked squeeze of the hand around his cock mid-stroke, finally pushed Jim over the edge. He climaxed with Spock's name on his lips and then went boneless, his arm buckling under his weight as he slumped back onto the table. Spock went with him, covering his chest, lips against his neck, still buried inside him. Jim shut his eyes as his blood pressure calmed down, sighing into the feeling of peace that settled over him.
Spock levered himself up and out of Jim far too soon, and the sweat covering Jim's exposed chest felt cool even in the hot room.
"Up," Spock said, grabbing Jim's forearms and pulling. Jim loved the way he went monosyllabic after a good orgasm.
"'M comin'," he mumbled back, following the upward force and rolling forward, off of the table and onto his feet. Amazingly, the table seemed to still be in one piece, although it may have gone a bit wobbly.
"Bed," Spock ordered, pushing Jim in that general direction and finally stepping out of his pants.
"Yessir."
The bed was soft and comfortable, especially when Spock climbed in behind him and snuggled up, dropping an arm lazily, possessively, over Jim's stomach.
Jim yawned. "I love chess night."
THE END