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When beaming to the planet, Jim had expected to find Professor John Gill, make sure that everything was alright, and then carry on with his five year mission. What he hadn't expected was to find a racist Nazi state almost parallel to Nazi Germany in the second world war of Earth. Jim knew that putting a swastika bearing uniform on his green tinged first officer wasn't tasteful and wasn't going to get them very far, but it was those risks that Jim needed to make to progress the mission anywhere at all.
Getting caught almost immediately was just unfortunate. However, it was a good thing that Jim was a secret glutton for punishment.
Each time the Ekosian guard lashed the whip on his back, the thuddy sting from the cat o'nine tails pushed him further into himself where his masochistic senses were more than willing to take over and protect him. The line between pain and pleasure had been blurred for Jim for a long time now; he could feel each lick of the multi-tailed leather whip, his body tensing with each impact, shivering as blood mingled with his sweat and trickled down the hypersensitive skin of his lower back.
It wasn’t his first time on the receiving end of punishment, although definitely a first being flogged by a Nazi like some cheesy roleplay. He was lucky to be upright for it with his hands cuffed in front of him as he braced his core for each impact– lucky that his punisher wasn't so much of a sadist to add humiliation into the ordeal and only barked out questions that Jim, even in his hazy mind, refused to answer. He was known to find himself under someone’s heel, being forced into submission to relinquish his control– his pride– as his face was ground into the floor. But this guard… he didn't have the air of dominance that would typically push him over the edge. He may have been dealing the punishment but a lashing was practically child's play to him. Simple physical pain was easy to withdraw from, with all of his practice, with the methods he chose to compartmentalize his past and pain.
He hissed as the whip flicked over his shoulder, striking at his collarbone. It fucking hurt; but the shock of each flog resonated through his core as he imagined the source being one of the mistresses he reserves every shore leave on Risa, the sting going straight to his throbbing cunt as his body tensed and curled into the pain.
He tried not to look as Spock took the same punishment beside him but could see from the corner of his eye that the Vulcan didn't budge or make a sound, giving no reaction to the Nazi as he obviously withdrew into meditation. It gave Jim peace to know Spock wasn't witnessing Jim’s rush of endorphins with each whipping, but when he looked up and made eye contact with the Zeon in the jail cell before them, a particular hit landed right between his shoulder blades and he gasped out, feeling his eyes roll back as the prisoner watched him in his pleasure. Jim hoped he misunderstood, but if he hadn't… if he was watching him and imagining how wet he was, how wound up it was making him… he felt his clit throb painfully and he clenched his thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction or relief.
“Captain–” Spock was relieved as Kirk was brought to the same prison cell to join him, although by analysis of the red marks dripping blood from his back and chest, the human didn’t fare much better than Spock had in the punishment halls. “Are you well?”
Kirk’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees as the guard tossed him into the cell and locked the caged door behind him. Spock nearly reached out to catch him or ease his fall, but between the green blood dripping down from Spock’s arms and the bare skin between the two of them, he halted the action and knelt down before the man instead to be at eye level.
The captain's eyes were glazed over and pupils blown. He was shaking. Spock hadn’t seen his captain in such a state before and tried to wave his cuffed hands in front of the man's face to get his focus. “Captain?”
“Ah,” Kirk blinked, eyes looking up at Spock from the floor as if adjusting to waking up. “Spock…” He cleared his throat and shook his head, bringing his cuffed hands up to give his face a quick rub. “Sorry. Yes. I’m okay. We’re good.” His eyes seemed to focus now as he dropped his hands, narrowing as he acknowledged Spock’s injuries now. “What’s your status?”
“Superficial injuries, Captain. A dermal regenerator will be sufficient to repair once we return to the ship.”
“Good. That’s good, Mr. Spock. Great.”
The captain was not acting himself; he wasn’t speaking as he coherently would, and he hadn’t gotten up off of the floor yet, still kneeling on his knees. He had a distinct smell that Spock wasn’t familiar with and his heartbeat was thrumming faster than his typical rate, either of which could be related to the punishment Kirk had received in the hall. While Spock had been mentally disconnected during the flogging, he believed he had maintained enough awareness to know if the Nazis had given the captain a drug or a drink… or perhaps there had been an impact to his head that could have concussed him.
“Have you been concussed, Captain?” Spock started concussion protocol, prompting the man to follow his finger with his eyes, but Kirk didn't want to play along. “Have you been drugged?”
The prisoner in the other cell scoffed, and Spock looked up at the Zeon, affronted.
“He's not drugged but I'd say there's definitely something wrong up here.” The Zeon prisoner pointed to his own head, raising his eyebrows.
Spock returned his attention to Kirk, reaching forward with his cuffed hands to take a hold of his chin in an attempt to get the man to focus. “Captain. I must assess you. Please, allow me–” as soon as he gripped the other man’s chin, Spock gasped out as a heady wave of arousal was transferred through their contact, almost causing him to release his hold. “I don't…” Spock closed his eyes, trying to sort through the secondhand heat that rushed through him, hoping to understand.
Kirk wrenched his face from Spock's grip and clumsily scrambled to stand as his face turned red. “Spock, I'm fine. I'm not concussed; I just need to breathe for a minute.”
Looking up at Kirk from where Spock was kneeling, he saw the man in a new light: the excessive sweat accompanying the red marks from the whipping, the blown pupils, the labored breathing… the smell Spock hadn't recognized must have been… “You… are aroused, Captain?”
“Dammit,” Kirk started pacing, avoiding the question as he distractingly yanked at his wrist cuffs. “We need to focus on getting out of here.”
The residual liquid warmth that remained from their brief contact settled into Spock’s core, leaving the Vulcan dazed with only more questions.
“Just tell him you liked it,” the Zeon from the other cell casually offered.
Kirk stopped in his tracks and glared at the man. “Now, this is none of your business–”
“I think you made it my business, no? Doesn't mean I didn't enjoy the show.”
Kirk had nothing to rebut as his face reddened even more, looking from the other prisoner back at Spock. His gaze immediately dropped and landed on his shoes, showing an emotion that Spock thought might be ‘shame’-- not one he had seen often on his captain.
Spock cleared his throat as he gathered himself and rose to his feet. “I cannot say I understand, Captain, but you are correct; we must find an escape.” It did not sit well with him that the other prisoner seemed to have a better understanding of the situation than Spock did and that he was harassing the captain as well.
“Oh! I got it, Spock! The transponders in our arms from Bones, and with the electricity from that light bulb! And I bet…” Kirk kicked the mattress off of the prison bed, revealing the thin metal frame beneath. “Bingo!” He began twisting his wrists around the cuffs, trying to get to the spot on his forearm that the chip was hypo’d to, but the cuff was too tight. He raised his forearm to his face and started to teethe at the spot.
It was impressive for a human, Spock realized; the amount of pain that Kirk must be in following the flogging for him to now be biting into his own arm. He wondered if the arousal he had sensed had been a method for dealing with the pain, and as Kirk bit the microchip out of his arm, if that had increased the state he was in as well.
“Here, now let me get yours–” Kirk spit his microchip out and handed it to Spock’s open palm as he got to work on the other arm, not seeming to remember the telepathy as he began extracting the chip. The feelings of arousal were more muted now, Spock was almost disappointed to notice, and the captain was also experiencing embarrassment and guilt. He closed his eyes into the touch as he leaned forward, curiously wanting to sense more, but Kirk’s contact was over sooner than it began and when Spock looked up, he found the captain on his knees at the metal frame of the bed, bent forward over it and scrambling at the slats for any purchase he could pull from.
It didn’t escape Jim the position he found himself in: on his knees, hands cuffed as he grabbed at the metal frame of the bed, not to mention his stone-cold commander behind him with a rightful view of his ass and shirtless marked back. He had to pause for a moment to breathe, willing his imagination to calm down before beginning to yank at the slats again. His hands were sweaty as he fought his hormones and the blood that had dripped from the microchip wound was making his grip even more slippery. “Mr. Spock, a hand?”
He wouldn’t look up from this position, only sensing when Spock kneeled down beside him and pulled a metal slat from the bed frame like it hadn’t been bolted in at all. Fuck, that certainly didn’t help tame his imagination.
“I see, Captain.” Good Spock. For always picking up what he was putting down. “If I bend it to be, crudely estimating, 23.17 millimeters from the microchips–”
“Or you can hit him with it,” the Zeon from the other cell interrupts. “See what happens.”
Jim dropped his head to the metal mattress frame as Spock tensed beside him, not finishing his sentence. “Dammit, guy, can you not? We are trying to get out of here.”
“You're the one who put on that show earlier– remember?”
“Captain,” Spock lowered his voice just between the two of them, lowering his head closer to Jim's, “may I speak freely?”
Jim just nodded his head, refusing to look up.
“I… this is a scenario I have neither anticipated nor encountered before; I am finding my understanding of the situation amiss. Why would he tell me to hit you with this? And what did you show him?”
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
“Dammit,” Jim sat back onto his heels beside the bed and covered his eyes with his cuffed hands before ruffling his hair out of frustration. “Because–” this situation would be sooo hot if it were just a fantasy and not him about to embarrass the fuck out of himself to his friend and second in command. The humiliation he felt from the Zeon goading him burned heavily in his stomach and made his head woozy, the shame pushing at Jim's buttons in ways the guard with the whip couldn't do. “I'm a masochist, okay? He's right. I– I like the pain. He saw it while we were getting roughed up. God, Mr. Spock. Please just ignore him.”
Spock was silent beside him and Jim could count his own heart beat in his ears for the half a minute it took for him to reply.
“Would you like me to hit you with this, then?”
He asked it so innocently, like confirming an order given from the bridge, meanwhile Jim saw white like a flashbang lit off inside his head. The thought of this situation escalating further and Spock actually being interested made Jim's clit throb after all of his hard work to try and calm it down, though the wetness in his briefs never lessened.
He groaned in exasperation, returning to leaning forward onto the metal bed frame as he presented his ass. He clenched his thighs together, chasing any kind of friction on his clit for pleasure as he had never been this inappropriately turned on in his life. “Yeah, Spock, I would,” if we are being frank. .“But I can't say we have time for games like this right now.”
“I would not call this a ‘game’, Captain.” Jim heard a heavy crack and the sound of chains falling to the floor; he sharply inhaled as he realized Spock had just broken through his cuffs like it was nothing. He felt a cool hand placed onto the bare skin of his back and startled from the sensation. “Your condition is affecting you quite… severely.”
Immediately Jim felt all the blood leave his head as he realized Spock was feeling how god damn horny and desperate he was through his telepathy. How much he was ready to fuck up his chain of command for a hint of satisfaction. How eager he was to feel that cool hand from his stoic friend take real control and responsibility for him.
“Do you really desire this?” Spock kept his hand on his back, tracing along a flogging mark from earlier in a way that gave Jim a full body shiver.
Telepathic triple consent was hot and all but Jim was about to lose it.
“Are you going to make me beg for it, Mr. Spock?”
Jim felt the hand trail off of his back as his commander silently took stance behind him.
“FUCK!”
It was merely a test hit to gauge Spock’s strength versus the threshold of impact that the Captain was able to take but he found his calculations lacking a result as the man before him flexed his rippling muscles to meet the impact, falling forward and collapsing against the metal frame, grasping at the slats with his cuffed hands. Kirk did not look back at him but Spock noticed that the man was trembling after the hit.
“Captain– are you– was that too hard?” Spock hesitated, bringing the metal slat to both of his hands as his eyes roamed the body before him for signs.
“Spock,” Kirk’s voice was strained and breathy. “I will tell you if it’s too much. Okay? I can take it. Just–” he repositioned himself, tilting his pelvis to put emphasis on his ass in the air as he braced himself again on the side of the metal bed.
It was certainly curious how the captain’s afferent and integrative functions must work. If pain truly did spark the pleasure centers in his mind resulting in arousal, Spock couldn’t help being fascinated by the phenomenon.
“Please?”
Perhaps ‘fascinated’ was a weak word to describe the powerful pull Spock felt as Kirk turned to look over his shoulder up at the Vulcan to say that word. The emotions on his face startled Spock. He looked… thirsty? No– hungry. Yet, embarrassed... or ashamed. There was a bead of sweat threatening to drip from his temple and below the captain’s pleading eyebrows, his eyes showed a vulnerability that Spock had yet to ever see from the man before. More than vulnerability– trust. It stirred something within his core and he felt himself yearning to discover just how far he could take this situation. If Kirk looked so disheveled and wrecked from just one hit, Spock couldn’t fathom the progression of reactions if he continued.
As he wound back his hand, he had decided to maintain the force he had used on the first impact and watched as Kirk returned his gaze to the bed frame before slapping the flat of the metal slat on his captain’s right gluteal. Kirk’s back tensed and he scrambled at the metal frame with his hands as he groaned up to the ceiling of the prison cell. “God, fuck! Fuck. Yes. Thank you. Please– Mr. Spock– again. Please!”
This was a part of himself that Kirk was giving to Spock. A piece of the Captain he had never seen before; an integral mechanism of how the man worked. He wondered if he should take it personally, if this was a situation of happenstance and anyone would’ve done, or if he would have only trusted Spock to deliver what he needed right now.
“Is this what you need, Captain?”
He hit again in the same place. Kirk cried out, nodding. “Yes, yes, yes– thank you, yes!” His cries worried Spock as his voice contradicted his body, shaking and tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. Spock kneeled on the ground behind him, reaching to Kirk’s bare hip with his right hand as he handed the slat off to his left.
The pleasure was more than apparent. There was distress, yes, but the Captain seemed to… like that. He was enjoying being at the whims of Spock, he enjoyed his hands being cuffed, he enjoyed the sting of the impact and the rush of endorphins after. He was attracted to Spock’s strength and perhaps the fact that Spock could easily overpower him but Spock could feel the yearning for more. All that Spock was giving right now– it wasn’t enough. He could feel that Kirk knew he could deliver, yet doubted if he would.
Spock growled at the surfacing question and tightened his hold on Kirk’s hip, not appreciating the unvoiced doubt in his capabilities. Kirk winced in his grasp and Spock reared back and hit the Captain’s left rear cheek with the slat, rubbing the piece of metal on the site of impact afterwards. Pained pleasure exploded from where Spock was touching him and he could hear Kirk panting, whimpering with each exhale. The amount of pleasure Kirk felt was almost overwhelming on impact but Spock could feel it dwindling as something else edged up as he continued to graze the metal along Kirk’s glute. Need? Impatience? Lust? Spock had never felt such a strong feeling before.
Spock released Kirk’s hip and reared back for 3 more consecutive hits to the same glute. Kirk cried out on each impact, falling forward against the bed frame again on the second, and trying to crawl forward to get away after the third. The tears that had threatened to fall before were now streaming down his cheeks and he was breathing hard, trembling to protect himself and hide his rear from Spock.
“Sp-Spock,” he whined, gathering his cuffed hands to unsuccessfully try to rub at his ass. He turned and looked up at Spock with those tears falling from the corners of his eyes, face flushed and chest heaving.
Spock looked down at him with the slat in his hand and cocked his head, raising his eyebrow, not sure what to make of this reaction. The view of his captain looking up at him like this from the ground, crying and aroused stirred a reaction within Spock himself and he felt betrayed as he felt himself beginning to harden. He wasn’t immune to sexual reactions, but sex was logical to be aroused by… it felt sadistic to gain pleasure from his captain’s tears.
“Did I hit you too hard, Captain?” Spock asked, wincing as his voice came out more rough than intended. He cleared his throat.
Kirk shook his head, lips pressed shut, like he was ashamed to admit it.
“Then tell me, sir, why do you face me? Did you want to be hit elsewhere?”
“N-no, I just–” he whimpered, squirming uncomfortably where he sat, still avoiding eye contact.
“Captain.” Spock’s patience wore thin. He kneeled down again and pinched Kirk’s chin between his fingers like he had the first time he had felt the initial hinting of this erratic feeling. Embarrassment and need surged through their contact and Spock brought his captain’s face up. “Look at me,” he ordered, feeling Kirk’s desire pulse through their touch at his tone. Off casted eyes reluctantly met with Spock’s and became locked in his gaze. He couldn’t help if he didn’t know what Kirk needed, and it was obvious the captain wasn’t going to volunteer the information shamelessly. If it was a strict hand that Kirk needed, Spock would give that. “Tell me what you need.”
He could feel a feedback loop of feeling embarrassed, arousal from being embarrassed, leading to feeling more embarrassment. Spock increased the strength of his grip on Kirk’s chin to press the question.
“I– Mr. Spock, I need this !” Kirk gasped out. “I need you… doing this. Please.”
This. Spock felt his eyebrow twitch as he was refused further relevant information. “Your words,” he growled, “Captain. Use them.”
Kirk’s gaze dropped again, squirming before Spock felt Kirk lean into his grasp, putting the weight of his head in Spock’s hand like a gift, like he was giving himself to the Vulcan. “You’re so good, Mr. Spock, already… d-dominating me… taking control… using your strength on me…” Each further admittance he could feel Kirk’s control and pride slipping, giving more of himself to Spock, trusting Spock with his deepest vulnerabilities and needs. “Use… me? Please…?”
On the last plea, the captain looked back up at him almost innocently with his hazy eyes and Spock was stunned. The vague, hot feeling that had stirred in Spock’s core earlier was creeping up his spine up to the base of his head, threatening to mutiny the strict control that Surak’s teachings had instilled within him. It was this simple feeling, Spock realized, that had been the reason for Vulcan to revolutionize against their base desires and prioritize logic over their carnal primitivities. Having Kirk ask this of him– no, beg this of him- was reaching a piece buried so deep within Spock that he was feeling himself slipping.
“Please?”
Spock sharply inhaled through his teeth as he felt the dam holding himself back begin to give way. “Captain–”
“My name– Jim. Please.”
“Jim. I… need to trust that you will tell me to stop. You are trusting me– I need to trust that you will tell me to cease if I allow myself to… go further.”
“Okay. Yes. Yes, I will.”
“Say it, Jim.” Spock tightened his hold further on Kirk’s chin and the man gasped in pain, shooting pleasure and delight into the contact. “Recite the word.”
“Cease! Mr. Spock, I’ll say it. Cease. I promise. Please!”
“Good.”
And he relinquished his hold on Kirk’s chin.
It felt like something had snapped as Spock, faster than Jim was expecting, reached down and yanked him up by the chain link between his cuffed hands, pulling him forward across the metal bed frame. Spock held his wrists in place as he single-handedly wrenched another slat off, bending the metal to trap the cuff chain to a fixed slat, immobilizing Jim’s wrists in place. Jim pulled at the fixture, letting out a whine when he found no budge in it.
Fuck. Spock was really going to do this. And he had no way to escape now. He really gave Spock the keys and begged to be trapped in this situation that scared the fuck out of him. He knew he was shaking. He was scared– his body knew what was coming, that he was about to be put through unfathomable pain, yet his cunt was hot and his blood was rushing through his head in response to having been forced into such a submissive position after begging Spock for his hand. He couldn't think past the heartbeat throbbing in his ears, he knew that this was an inappropriate situation with inappropriate people in an inappropriate place but his thoughts stopped there, not able to push through the full body sensation, especially after– FUCK.
He heard the impact before he felt the sharp thwack of the slat pushing him forward against the bed frame. The noise was enough to set him off without feeling like his ass was radiating stinging heat from the hit through his pants. Another hit and Jim cried out, pulling at his cuffed hands as he tried to crawl onto the bed frame to get away, but Spock hit him again on his other cheek, causing him to falter and collapse on the floor with his hands still cuffed forward. He sobbed, feeling the tears spill again from his eyes.
“Up.” Spock’s voice felt deeper than Jim remembered, rumbling roughly into his core and adding to the throb in his cunt. He couldn't quite process the order in time and was surprised when he was lifted up by the waistband of his pants to resituate himself on his knees, only to hear the fabric rip. Spock growled, fisting both sides of the fabric in each hand and ripping the seat of the pants down to Jim’s thighs, exposing his regulation gray briefs as he was pushed forward onto the bed frame again by a hand on his lower back that seemed to probe a question.
Jim couldn't fathom telepathic questions right now. All he could think about was how he was being forced down, pinned, and beaten all while his ass hadn't even been exposed yet. He whined, bucking back into Spock's hand, wishing nothing more to feel the contact of that metal slat on his bare skin, or even more, Spock's hand doing the job itself. Like his mind had been read, Jim felt the cold rush of air across his cheeks, sending goosebumps up his back and down his arms as his briefs were yanked down to the top of his thighs.
Spock rubbed the cold metal against the stinging site where he had previously aimed. Jim squirmed, whining again, hating but loving the tease, knowing what was coming. The metal left and Jim braced himself for impact, tensing his glutes and back muscles, squeezing his eyes closed.
Waited.
Seconds passed with no impact yet, the silence almost unbearable except that there was a familiar noise behind him. Further back than where Spock was, as Jim could still sense his presence at his tail, he could faintly hear…
Jim looked over his shoulder, first up at Spock who was paused with the slat ready to swing in mid air but his head was not turned towards him. Jim followed his gaze to the other cell.
He had forgotten that they weren't alone.
The Zeon prisoner in the connecting cell had his pants midway down his thighs and was leisurely stroking himself with a smirk as he watched them.
Jim felt like he had been shot. The blood blanched from his face and his breath left him. All of a sudden, the prison cell came back to him like water had been dumped over his head, like he hadn't existed outside of his body at all before. He was cuffed to this bed, that was his fucking first officer that was spanking him with a metal slat, and a stranger was beating off to them in a public prison. He could suddenly feel the heavy cold of the cement floor through the knees of his ripped pants and the brush of the cold air on the bare skin of his ass and back.
“Jim,” Spock ground out between his clenched teeth.
Jim broke his eyes from the Zeon stroking his cock and looked back up at Spock from over his shoulder. Spock looked frozen still, like he was fighting an internal battle and struggling. Had he been as into it as Jim was? Should they stop? Was it getting too weird?
He didn't realize his gaze had shifted back to the Zeon’s cock until he felt his mouth salivate, and he wondered if he was getting off to Jim’s cries, his ass, or his begging. Or all three. If Jim was putting on a good show… what he could do to make him cum from just watching. If he wanted to fuck Jim bent over with his ass out just like this.
He heard the slat falling to the ground before he felt Spock’s fingers hesitantly brush against his lower back, sparks flying between them as the Vulcan hissed, his hand turning from a gentle caress to gripping tightly at one of Jim’s beaten ass cheeks. Jim cried out, lurching up and pulling at his cuffs from the table.
“You will not think of him when it is me taking care of you. He is nothing. This is mine.” He squeezed harder, indicating what exactly was his. Jim’s mind went blank as he felt a surge of possession and greed through their skin contact, painting his vision with haziness.
Spock reared his hand back and gave his ass a hard smack with his palm, throwing Jim right back under water and gasping for air as he gave back into the sensations. Another smack and Jim could briefly feel a transference of pleasure that wasn’t his own, encouraging the dam of his brief control to break further.
“You are pleasured by him watching.” It wasn’t a question. Spock could feel the truth across his skin as he laid another flat slap against Jim’s ass, bringing attention to the fact that Jim could feel his skin ripple with the impact and imagining what the Zeon was seeing, what Spock was alluding to… he wondered if either of them could tell that he was dripping. His briefs were still huddled at the crook of his thighs pulled down beneath his cheeks so that just his ass was out, but he could feel the brisk air against the hint of exposed wet lips that covered the base of his hole.
“What is it that you like?” Spock’s hand lingered on Jim’s ass cheek, fingers trailing along a mark that must be there based on the tenderness of the surface. “The attention?” He grabbed the cheek in his hands again, squeezing out a cry from Jim. “Do you like feeling objectified?” He let go of the hold and trailed both of his hands over the mounds of Jim’s ass toward his lower back, eliciting a shiver. “Do you like feeling used for someone else’s pleasure?” At that suggestion, Spock’s fingers dug into Jim’s hips and unexpectedly pulled his exposed ass against Spock’s fully-clothed groin. Jim keened, grinding back against the pressure, desperate to feel if Spock was as turned on as he was– if Spock was going to use him too.
“You want mine too.”
Jim faltered, still trying to find a bulge to grind against but coming up short. He was almost desperate to feel it against him, feel proof that he's doing a good job taking it, that his body is desirable and useable.
“Answer me or I won't give it to you.”
Oh my god. Spock was going to– he was going to give it to Jim if Jim was good. Jim could be good. Jim deserved that, right? If he was good. He opened his mouth but nothing came out but tears at the corner of his eyes and he was frustrated, horny and desperate and needing more and afraid to say what he needed to say– he didn’t want to hear it out loud from his own mouth. That made it real. That made it humiliating.
Spock delivered a hard smack to his ass and Jim sobbed.
“Why do you need it?”
Yes. He needed it. He could still hear the noises of the other prisoner touching himself and needed more. Needed to feel Spock against him too. Needed to answer.
“I want to be g-good…” He whimpered. “A good toy to be used.”
He could feel that the answer pleased Spock and he ground against his first officer's groin again, whining.
“Is that all you are? An object for my pleasure? Entertainment for him?”
Spock smacks him again.
“Yes!” Jim nodded desperately, dropping his head against the metal frame of the bed. “Yes, that's it. I'm yours. I'm your toy.”
“Yes you are.”
And Jim felt Spock move off of him. He didn’t look up from where his head was down and could only hear the rapid heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waited for what would happen next. Hoping Spock would use him. Wanting to feel Spock take him all the way inside. Needing anything that Spock would give him.
He felt something hot, solid and wet nudge at his crack and he gasped, bringing his head up and looking over his shoulder in surprise as he pushed back, feeling Spock's cock slide between his cheeks up towards his sacrum. Spock stood behind him, face flushed green almost as dark as the glistening cock that had been pulled over the depressed waistband of his pants. “Yes!” Jim gasped, grinding his ass back on his cock. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”
Spock pushed Jim’s head back down against the metal frame and continued rutting his cock between his ass cheeks. The way it wetly slid up and out, over and over, Jim was desperate to feel more. He kept trying to tilt his pelvis to edge it closer to one of his holes, needing to feel that heavy girth inside him. Needed to be filled up and used completely. But even this– this was perfect if it was all Spock was going to give him. Spock using his ass to grind against him like Jim’s own pleasure didn’t matter. He would take that. He would take anything he could get. Especially if he rewarded Jim with shooting cum all over his beaten raw skin.
With that thought, Spock pushed his face down further as he pulled away, releasing his cuffs from the slat restraining him to the bed frame and pulling him off by the chains connecting his wrists.
“You are greedy for a toy. Though your thoughts tempt me… we do remain on a mission.”
Spock yanked Jim up by the chain and lead him to the wall. Jim’s ripped pants at his shaking knees and his briefs bunched at his upper thighs caused him to stumble before he was pushed down onto the ground, hissing as he fell onto his bare bruised ass with his searing whipped back against the frigid cement wall.
He looked up, shaking and whimpering on each exhale as Spock's piercing eyes looked back down at him, breathing heavily before the Vulcan pulled down his own pants to reveal the rest of his genitals. Jim’s eyes followed the movement, unable to look away as Spock’s dark, double ridged cock bounced heavily out of a slit from his pubic mound which seemed to secret natural lubricant… and a lot of it. It slicked the dark hair around it and begged to be licked up.
Jim felt his mouth salivate and crawled forward for it, only to be stopped by a boot on his shoulder.
He had intended to just tease his captain, but as he forcefully guided the man backwards into a seated position with his right boot, his eyes caught at a blaring dark spot on the gray briefs that were bundled near Kirk’s crotch. A wet spot, Spock realized.
That did not correlate with the anatomy Spock had expected of a human male but all of a sudden the smell that had been overwhelming his senses since Kirk had been flogged… that had only increased since ripping his leggings… Spock’s nostrils flared as he felt his cock throb harder and he fisted it in his grip to gain some semblance of control. The blatant smell of Kirk’s dripping arousal was overwhelming enough without the visual confirmation of where the source was from.
“My mouth?” Kirk’s ability to form full sentences had long gone which would have typically irritated Spock, yet reducing his captain to this simple begging heated his veins. “Please?”
Kirk couldn't seem to take his gaze off of Spock's genitals. He gave himself a languid stroke, pleased that Kirk’s eyes followed the movement like he had been hypnotized.
“You are very ‘pretty’ when you beg, Jim. But you are distracting me from our mission. I do not think you deserve to be used yet.”
Kirk’s eyes widened and his expression seemed destroyed. “But– I'm good. I'd be so good. You want it too, right? My mouth?”
He was whining. For Spock’s erection in his mouth. And it was so tempting… He could take a step toward and force himself into the throat that was being offered so generously… but that was not what the captain needed right now.
He was always getting his way around rules; it was time someone was strict with him.
With his boot still on Kirk’s shoulder, Spock applied more force to the pressure and the man on the floor yelped in pain.
“You are just an object. A toy. I decide when to use you. So at this moment you will be quiet and simply watch.”
Stroking himself with his left hand, the wet noise of his masturbating was loud due to his natural slick but not rhythmic with the other prisoner’s self pleasuring, whose pace had only increased since beginning. It felt good and Spock let his stoic face fall to the pleasure just to show the Captain what he wasn't giving him. It wasn't as good as Kirk's hot mouth would be of course. Or… the dripping hole that was dampening his briefs that Spock couldn't look away from. But to see Kirk watching his genitals so devastated as he touched himself in front of his captain… it was akin to if he had been denied his ship.
Kirk let out a wordless whine and squirmed under Spock’s boot, still unable to look away, but at least knowing better than to continue begging.
But Kirk wasn't the only one enraptured. As Spock stroked himself a foot away from Kirk’s waiting open mouth, he slid his boot from Kirk’s shoulder, down his sweaty chest to between his legs, nudging at the wet fabric and what was hidden beneath it with his toe. Kirk gasped out, arching his back against the wall for more leverage against the leather of Spock’s boot.
“You are so desperate to be touched that you would use my boot?”
He pulled his foot back.
“Ask me for it.”
Kirk writhed, bringing his cuffed hands to his eyes out of frustration and embarrassment. “Spock– please ,” he cried.
Spock simply waited, continuing to pleasure himself at the sight of reducing his captain to such a babbling mess.
“Please,” Kirk begged again, still hiding behind his hands, winding his eager hips against the air where Spock's foot had been. “Can I… ride your boot?”
“It is disrespectful to not look at who you are speaking to, Jim.”
Kirk groaned, raking his hands down his face as he reluctantly met Spock's eyes. He was crying openly, tears falling from where his fingers pulled down at his cheeks and his breathing was shallow and uneven with frustrated sobs.
“May I please,” he paused for a few bated breaths, squeezing his eyes shut before looking back up with hardened resolve although his voice still shook, “grind my cock on your boot, sir?”
Spock had to tightly grip the base of his cock to keep the rush of arousal at bay that threatened to overtake him. “Very well. Good toy.”
Jim’s distraught face broke into a smile and he scrambled forward, trying to kick off the rest of the torn pants from his knees before straddling Spock's right boot, trying to grasp the Vulcan’s leg between his cuffed hands to hold on. Spock continued touching himself to the sight of Jim so grateful to be allowed to simply hump at his foot, and he could feel the moist heat of Jim's genitals through the thin leather on the top of his foot as the man ground himself on to it.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” he kissed at the top of Spock's bare thigh from where he was straddling. “Feels so good.” He looked up at Spock from his thigh and genuinely grinned, his teary face right beside where Spock was stroking his cock, within licking distance yet forbidden to touch it.
Spock's eidetic memory would never forget this sight.
The way Kirk responded to praise in this state was pleasing, so Spock ran his spare hand through the man’s hair and cooed more praise at him, like he was a Terran dog learning his first tricks. Kirk basked in it, proud and shining, the delight glowing through the contact Spock was making with his scalp.
Each time Kirk rubbed himself onto his boot, he would let out a gasping moan, completely blissed out from such a degenerate act. Grateful and happy Kirk warmed Spock’s core, bubbling up a joyful feeling from his stomach, but it didn't please him as deeply as putting the man in his place did, and they did have a mission to do.
“You are like a pet; so eager to hump my leg.” Spock quirked an eyebrow, bringing his cock closer to Jim’s face, smearing some of his natural lubricant on his cheek. “You are a starship captain, Jim. Do you not realize how pathetic you look?”
Kirk faltered in shock at the humiliation, looking up at Spock with wide, glassy eyes. Spock could feel the conflicting emotions on his skin, fear towards Spock and shame he felt at his arousal, so Spock pushed his foot forward and ground it encouragingly against Kirk’s groin.
“Are you going to let your pride stop you from fulfilling your duty as my toy? I thought you were better than that, Captain.”
The backhanded encouragement caught Kirk’s brain up and Spock felt pleasure mixed with embarrassment rush through their contact as Kirk resumed his feverish thrusting against Spock’s leg, realizing it was part of the game and Spock wasn’t going to stop and abandon him for it.
“Yes– I'm pathetic,” Kirk gasped, breath rate increasing as he humped faster. “Like a dog. Your dog.”
“But you would hump any leg to relieve yourself right now.”
Kirk was startled again, stuttering in his thrusts. “N-No…” he grabbed at Spock’s thigh harder, his desperation increasing. “Not true. I'm yours. Your dog. Your toy!”
“You lie to me, Jim.”
Spock kicked him with the boot he was humping right between the legs. Kirk yelled in distress, falling backwards and grasping to hold his bruised groin with cuffed hands. He looked up at Spock with betrayal, confused and hurt like an animal berated for doing nothing wrong.
“Are you saying you would not grind your sopping mess–” Spock gestured to the wet smear left on his boot from Kirk’s arousal, “on his boot?” He turned to the side, showing the zeon edging himself in the other cell. The other prisoner was standing closer now for a better view of them since they had moved to the opposing wall, holding the cell’s separating bar in one hand as he fucked his hand with the other. “That you would not allow his ejaculate on your face?”
He watched as Kirk froze, confliction evident on his face as he looked past Spock as the other prisoner before returning his gaze to the Vulcan. “Spock,” he whimpered, “please, don’t–”
“You know the word to make me stop, Jim.”
Kirk nodded and yelled out in frustration as he tried to bring a hand up to his face while the other remained covering his genitals, but the cuffs restricted the movement with a clang and he dropped both hands, moving instead to furiously rub at himself through his briefs.
Spock was unimpressed with the show, though it was confirmation enough of his allegations that the humiliation was pleasurable for the man. “I see you will make this difficult.” In the moment he had turned around to look for the metal slat that had been pulled from the bed, he heard Kirk yell out at a pitch higher than before. Spock turned back towards him with the tool in hand only to watch Kirk convulsing on the floor, seeming to reach sexual climax as his briefs grew darker beneath his hand.
“You–” Spock felt his vision flash green as he stalked back to Kirk, grabbing him by the back of his neck and torquing his body so that he’d have to turn on his knees as Spock pressed his cheek onto the wet smear on the floor where Kirk’s bare ass had been, facing him. Kirk was breathing heavily and guiltily looked toward the ground. “This is how a terran would punish a dog, correct?” Spock pressed harder, mashing Kirk's face against his own mixture of vaginal secretions and sweat. “By shoving its face in its mess?”
Kirk let out a very dog-like whimper and nodded against Spock’s hold, still not meeting eye contact.
“To think I was going to give you this,” Spock slapped the metal slat against the concrete two centimeters by Kirk's cheek, causing the man to yelp, startling against the Vulcan's firm hold with eyes widening in fear, “but you derive too much pleasure from it. Bad dogs do not receive rewards. Nod if you agree.”
He nodded within the little movement allotted between Spock’s pressing hold and the slicked concrete, whimpering again. Spock was pleased when he could elicit such noises.
“However I must continue our mission to break out of this cell, regardless of how much you seem to enjoy being held prisoner.” Spock relinquished his hold on Kirk’s head and got up to stand.
“Close your eyes and stay.” Spock ordered his captain. “I will give you time to think of what you have done as I derive a plan.”
Jim was kept waiting. He didn't know how long Spock stood beside him in tortured silence, or what exactly he was waiting for. His right cheek was still pressed to the concrete of the cell and his breathing was starting even out. his hands were at his shoulders cushioning his chest with his bare ass up in the air, briefs still gathered below his ass and torn pants bunched at his ankles distal from where he was kneeling on the ground.
In this position, Spock could do anything to him. His imagination was starting to take control as his patience wore thin. Jim had been punished already for cumming, so maybe Spock would spank him with the metal piece again. Or maybe Spock was silently trying to get control over himself to keep from taking Jim from behind. Or maybe he would take Jim from behind anyway; he was so wet for it after finally grinding out that orgasm that he had been on the edge for since riding Spock’s boot. Or maybe Spock would leave him there, decide that Jim wasn't worth his time and the mission was more important. The thought made him bite his lip and squirm, not daring enough to open his eyes yet.
It had been at least 5 minutes before Spock decided to break the silence; although Jim lacked the internal clock that kept Spock ticking, his knees were aching against the concrete and the sweat on his back had begun to cool against the brisk air of the cell.
“Have you decided to be honest yet, Jim?”
Continuing the previous discussion had not been one of the imaginary scenarios in Jim’s fantasies. His eyebrows furrowed and he groaned as he was tempted to look up in objection at his first officer.
“I see.” Spock sounded disappointed. No, no, no, Jim had upset him. He didn’t want that– the Vulcan was cruel in his punishments. But he couldn’t just say what he knew Spock wanted to hear– he couldn’t just admit the truth so shamelessly. “I will assist in helping you be honest with yourself, Jim.
He felt a cold, stiff pressure on the side of his head facing upwards. Without opening his eyes, he was grasping at straws to connect what was being used to force his face into the ground now. It was as Spock adjusted the angle and Jim heard the creak of leather near his ear that he realized he was being stepped on by Spock’s boot– likely, the same boot Jim had ridden to near completion moments ago.
Crying out in pain as the pressure increased, he squirmed beneath Spock’s boot, hands scrambling at the ground with the metal cuffs around his wrists adding discomfort under his chest as well.
“Is it easier to be stepped on, Jim? Than to admit that you are a… what is the terran word…” Spock floundered on purpose. Jim knew he knew the word.
“A whore?” The other prisoner supplied from across the cell. “A slut?”
Spock hummed in thought, grinding the sole of his boot against Jim’s head. “Which of those are you, Jim? A ‘whore’ or a ‘slut’? Open your eyes and tell me.”
Jim gasped as his eyes flew open and took in Spock from the position he was in. The underside of Spock’s boot in his peripheral followed by the rest of his right leg, meeting his left with his half hard cock still out. Spock was looking down his nose at Jim, eyebrow lifted with an unimpressed frown. His right hand was holding the metal slat and braced on the leg stepping on Jim, and his left hand was splayed by his groin, so close to touching it. Jim’s mouth watered at the sight and he wondered what he could do to get Spock hard again for him, how good he would have to be to get Spock to touch himself again to him…
He realized he had forgotten to answer the question when Spock withdrew his foot from Jim’s head and nudged his chest to rise with a command: “Onto your elbows.” Jim complied, groaning with the effort as he adjusted his bodyweight over his forearms.
Spock brought his right foot up and placed it on Jim’s sacrum of his lower back. He looked down at Jim as he started easing pressure onto it and Jim’s breathing increased, realizing Spock was going to stand on his back. Spock, who came from a heavier gravity planet, was way more physically dense than anyone Jim had played with before.
“Toy, object, pet, dog, whore, slut…” He eased on more pressure. “I will use you regardless, Jim. I suggest you specify which you prefer before I decide to take my time.”
Spock’s foot on the ground lifted and Jim yelled in pain as all of the Vulcan’s weight was focused on his lower back before the left foot situated between his upper shoulder blades. He was tense, holding his entire core and all stabilizing muscles as he tried to keep from collapsing under Spock, and his breathing started increasing as he listened and realized Spock was actually doing something from atop his back.
Right. The mission. He must be– the plan, with the transponders, metal slat and the lightbulb. There was a sense of relief that his first officer hadn’t completely neglected their main purpose here and that Jim could really rely on him even if he himself was incapacitated. That sense of relief dwindled as Spock shifted his weight from foot to foot, toying with Jim’s tolerance.
“Spock, please ,” Jim gasped out as Spock trailed the sole of one boot down his battered back, disrupting the marks and wounds from the flogging. It stung and ached, and Jim wanted to arch his back against it to run away, but if he stopped tensing– he would drop Spock and mess up the escape attempt.
Spock did not reply, simply continuing to work at the lightbulb until Jim watched as a beam appeared from outside of his vision, slowly making its way through the lock until the metal snapped open. The jail cell door swung slightly ajar, no longer hitched in place by the lock.
So they were done, then? Did that mean this was over?
Except that the beam was coming closer from the door, etching a trail in the concrete in its path.
“Spock?” Jim’s voice shook as he called to the man above him.
“Jim, I believe I asked you a question.”
“Fuck,” Jim cursed. He wasn’t even sure if Spock was bluffing or not– if Spock was ruthless enough to actually bring the laser close enough to harm him. Jim looked down at his fingers on the concrete and back up to the beam, which was inching closer. “You’re crazy, Spock…”
Spock said nothing as it came within two feet of Jim. He could feel fear itching up his back and he wanted to writhe and to get away from the threat, but Spock still stood on top of him, trapping him in place.
The beam was a foot away. Jim tried to pull his closest hand away, but Spock’s weight made it impossible. He was breathing faster, beating his feet on the floor behind him in an attempt to get out some of his antsiness, but all it did was increase his nerves.
“Spock, c’mon now, please, this isn’t funny…”
He could feel the heat of the beam within inches of his pinky finger and felt his eyes stinging. He flexed his fingers into his hand, and then extended them again, panicking on what to do to minimize the pain.
“You know the word to make me stop.”
“I do, but–” Jim bit at his lip, wanting to cry again. It was going to hurt like hell. A different pain than the flogging or the spanking, or the hitting– those had all been stingy, thuddy, blunt trauma. This would be severing, hot, piercing, torture… He let out a sob as the beam slowed down within centimeters of his hand, but kept edging closer. “I…”
“What are you, Jim?”
He was shaking again, his heart thudding dangerously as he involuntarily had to suppress his fight or flight. It had to stop. He could make it stop. He just had to admit it. That would make Spock happy. If he was good for Spock, it would stop. Spock would be nicer.
The hair on his finger sparked a jarring smell and Jim couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m a whore! I’m a whore. I’m your whore, okay? Please, please, don’t. Please!”
The beam disappeared and Jim was so relieved he nearly let go of his posture, just in time for Spock to step off of him and kneel back beside him. He wanted to collapse onto the floor and feel the coolness of the concrete against his bare chest and be grateful, but Spock grabbed a fist full of his hair and wrenched him upwards, sitting on his knees towards him.
“Very well, whore.” Spock’s face was neutral as if he had said any other sentence in any other situation. His head was tilted to the side, as if scrutinizing Jim. “Are you a good whore?”
Hearing those words in Spock’s deep, rumbling voice sent shivers down Jim’s core and he wished he could have it recorded for future use.
“Yes!” Jim nodded against the tension in his hair. “I promise. I’ll be good for you.”
“Show me.”
And Spock let go of Jim’s hair, instead shoving two fingers into his mouth. Jim didn’t have time to be surprised as a rush of emotion overcame him from the contact. Spock’s face didn’t show anything, but he could feel the deep, satiating pleasure that toying with Jim was giving him. Jim took his fingers and sucked them deeper into his mouth, desperate to prove himself after the previous horror show– Jim knew that this, that twirling his tongue around Spock’s sensitive fingers, was something he was especially good at. That he was going to be a real good boy after this.
The confidence he felt was almost like whiplash considering how he felt mere moments ago, but he clung to the feeling and brought his cuffed hands up, pulling Spock’s arm forward to give Jim more of his fingers, giving a slight gag as the long digits touched his tonsils. That didn’t stop him though. He could take it. He was a good whore, after all.
Spock’s desire pulsed heavily through his fingers onto Jim’s tongue, and Jim looked up to see the Vulcan’s face completely gone of pretense. His eyes were lidded and dark as he watched Jim swallow around his fingers, his mouth open in soundless gasps as he gave himself to the apparent pleasure. His fingers, Jim knew they were sensitive due to the telepathy… he pulled his head back and gently dragged his lower teeth over the pads of his fingertips. Spock actually let out a deep moan, hooking his fingers into Jim’s mouth as he clenched his jaw in his grip, and Jim felt the arousal from the sensation mirrored in his own body, settling deeply down into his core.
His blown pupils stared piercingly into Jim’s eyes as he angled Jim’s face up to look at him easier. Jim could feel a trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth around Spock’s fingers. “Jim, you are… very good.” Spock closed his eyes as if trying to regain control. “I want to… give you everything. All of it.”
Jim whined around his fingers, nodding and salivating more. The prospect of Spock’s everything shook him to his core and he felt his cunt throb at the idea of his first officer’s cum filling him up somehow, in some hole, likely his mouth– that was Jim’s favorite. The idea made him desperate to touch himself again and he felt himself thrusting against nothing, needing some kind of contact with this cock for stimulation.
“You truly are a whore.” Spock opened his eyes and tilted Jim’s face this way and that as if scrutinizing merchandise. “You desire it even more than I do. Yes?” He stuffed his fingers back further into Jim’s mouth and Jim coughed against them, nodding desperately and going back to work with his tongue. Yes, he loved it. It was his favorite reward. His favorite ending. It meant he did well and that he was a good boy. He needed it.
“What about his?” Spock gestured with his head toward the Zeon who was barely hanging on at the bars between their cells. “A good whore would take him too. Yes?”
Jim was so close. He was so close to his reward. He felt the tears leaking from his eyes as he tried to swallow Spock’s fingers down his throat again, hoping that if he did a good enough job, he could avoid admitting his shameful desire. Spock was right; a good whore would take it all. And Jim was a good whore. The best. Especially for Spock, who was treating him so good, who had promised him everything. His thoughts returned to earlier, when he had first seen the other prisoner touching himself at Jim and Jim could barely take the thought of giving the Zeon a good show to finish him. The thought of Spock allowing it– encouraging it even– made Jim squirm and try to rub his thighs together.
“If you do not admit it, you will receive neither.”
Jim felt his heart breaking in real time. He knew that Spock could feel the answer, that the desperate slurping noises Jim created as he tried to suck off his fingers were answer enough without those same digits being telepathic. He knew that Spock knew he wanted it. But Spock wanted him to say it out loud. Jim looked up at the other prisoner for the first time since he had been noticed initially and watched as the Zeon gripped himself desperately between touching himself and trying not to come yet. He was already there. Spock was also, judging by the impatience Jim was starting to feel come from their contact. If Jim would just agree, he could have both. He could be truly treated like a whore. He had never had two loads at once– but he had dreamed of it.
He couldn’t fathom being denied either at this point.
He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, finally resigning to his fate in the situation. He let Spock’s fingers drop from his mouth as he looked the Vulcan in the eyes.
“I’m your whore to do with what you please, even if you want to share me.”
Spock’s expression hardened and he growled, standing up and gripping Jim’s hair in his fist again. Jim yelped in surprise as Spock started dragging him across the floor towards the bars between their cells, and he scrambled to have some dignity in keeping up on his hands and knees at least. Spock sat him at the bars between the cells on his knees again, leaning in front of Jim as his hand in his hair pulled his face back and up, right in front of where Spock was stroking himself in front of his open mouth.
“Do you want it or not?”
Jim stuck his tongue out, desperate to feel Spock’s hard, double ridged green head on the tip of it. Desperate to taste the natural lubricant that he supplied. Spock inched himself away. Tease. He looked over at the Zeon who was a foot away, biting his lip and looking down at Jim in desire as he stroked himself too. Jim dropped his hands to his briefs again, desperate to rub at himself in this situation. Spock yanked his head back, causing Jim to cry out as he stuck his boot between Jim’s legs again. Yes! Yes— Jim tried to straddle the boot again but the hand in his hair held him back.
The tears finally started falling again in frustration and he sobbed, grabbing desperately for Spock’s leg out of reach and yearning for his cock. He wanted to throw a fit. He was right here, he was so ready to be used, so desperate for it, yet they kept playing with him! He whined, needing it to end. “Please, Spock! Please!”
“ Do you want it? ” Spock said curtly, like it was the last time he was going to ask.
FUCK!! Fuck, fine!
“YES! Yes, I want it! I need it. I’ll take it! I’ll take yours and his– Please, please, please. PLEASE.”
And he found his mouth stuffed full of Spock’s cock as the Vulcan kept his hair in his grip. He felt the boot move under his cunt and he scrambled on, desperately grinding against it again as all he could do was open his throat to Spock fucking his mouth. His taste was salty and everything Jim had hoped for, the double ridges heady against his tongue as Spock kept Jim’s head still, leaning forward as he viscerally thrusted into it. It felt so good to finally be used, to finally have Spock inside him, even if his empty cunt throbbed for it, Jim wouldn’t have wanted it any other way than down his throat, being fucked like a toy.
“J-Jim!” Spock’s hips started stuttering as his breath hitched and Jim felt delight bubbling up from inside him, knowing what was coming as his own thrusts increased in speed against Spock’s boot. There was a massive pulse in his mouth and Jim’s eyes opened wide as he felt Spock’s seed began to shoot against the back of his throat. Another pulse and Jim’s jaw opened further, realizing that Spock was swelling up a lot between his lips. Spock pulled Jim’s head all the way flush until his nose was touching hair and Jim could feel the swelling stretching his jaw as he was used to cum into. Spock was grunting with each release, but they were slowing down after four or five pulses. However, Jim could not open his mouth further past the swell of Spock’s cock in the cavern of his mouth behind his teeth to disengage from it.
With a shuddering breath, Spock leaned back from being curled around his toy’s head, pulling Jim’s face with him as he looked down tenderly and wiped some tears from the corner of Jim’s eye. “My knot fits perfectly in your mouth, Jim.”
Fuck. His knot. A piece of Vulcan biology that must have escaped their textbooks. He felt a familiar pressure rising from within him, ready to cascade through his body.
Jim whined around the swollen knot, thrusting his own cock desperately against Spock’s boot when he felt something splatter across his face. He had nearly forgotten about the other audience and opened his eyes, looking out of the corner to watch as the Zeon gripped desperately at the separating bar as he finished himself across Jim’s face. Another shot across Jim’s upper lip where he strained against Spock’s knot, and another reaching his eye. He squeezed it shut, his whine muffled with his mouth full as he was painted with another stripe over his cheek. He wished he could lick it up– that he could show how much he appreciated his reward as well.
But with a stranger’s cum across his face, Spock’s cum down his throat, being gagged by his first officers knot, and riding the Vulcan’s boot, what finally pushed him completely over the edge was the desire, adoration and pride that Spock felt for him, resonating through their contact. He cried, feeling himself clench from the inside out as an overwhelming wave crashed through his body. He arched his back into it, feeling his body try to curl into the pleasure and him trying to crawl out of it, shaking and feeling his pussy pulsing around nothing, clenching and unclenching as he violently came. His chest rolled back as spasms overtook him and Spock tried to cradle his head as the knot brought him with it, convulsing for the longest orgasm Jim had experienced in years.
He fell limply against Spock’s boot, breathing hard through his nose as he felt Spock’s erection start to flag enough for Spock to gently extract it. He felt boneless, like the orgasm had siphoned all of the strength from his limbs, and he fell backwards onto the ground, looking dully up at the ceiling of the cell as he recovered his breathing, still covered in the other prisoner’s cum.
Spock kneeled beside him, bringing Jim’s head up onto his knee as a pillow. Jim’s endorphins made him high as a kite and he was happy that Spock cared enough to take care of him afterwards. He watched as Spock removed the torn pants from Jim’s ankles and found a piece of clean fabric to wipe off the cum on Jim’s face with.
“Captain,” Spock murmured. “Are you well?”
Jim closed his eyes and leaned his face into Spock’s careful cleaning. Hearing his rank grounded him a little and he was glad to hear it from Spock’s mouth after everything.
“Spock,” Jim drawled. “Thank you. I’m… yeah, I’m good.”
“I am… pleased to hear it, Jim.”
Spock set the fabric to the side as he finished and continued petting Jim’s hair which felt so, so nice. His touch was calming and relaxing, sending reassuring signals through their contact that warmed Jim’s core. He wanted to nudge his nose into Spock’s lap and curl up for a nap like a cat, but the more he settled and felt his heart rate calm down, the more he could feel the cold concrete below his body and the sounds of the prison around them.
“The– the door, you got it?” Jim’s head shot up, forgetting for a moment all that had transpired.
“Yes, Captain. It’s unlocked.”
“Oh, good. Good job, Spock.” He put his head back down, smiling. “I’m glad I can rely on you.”
“It is my job to be reliable to you, Captain.”
“I suppose it is, Mr. Spock. Right as always.”