- Text Size +

Spock saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Kirk was in uniform--the white tunic which bared his arms and emphasized the golden tones of his skin. His hair was slightly damp, curling softly against his neck. He must have just stepped from the shower. Spock was powerfully aware of him, though he mostly kept his eyes down, concentrating on regulating his uneven heartbeat. Kirk came down the little flight of steps, and the Vulcan retained the presence of mind to stand, stepping to one side as if to relinquish command to him. But Kirk stopped in front of him and shook his head, with a smile that was too innocent.

"Thank you, Mister Spock, but I just came up to see how things were going. McCoy really will have my hide if I sit in that chair." Kirk had been out of commission for nearly ten days, after taking serious injuries on the auxiliary bridge in a skirmish with an Orion slaver ship. Though Kirk was plainly feeling his old self, the doctor had insisted on at least another day's worth of recovery time.

The Vulcan nodded, not trusting his voice. A wave of scent assaulted him: the familiar evergreen of Kirk's shampoo underscored by the faint salt-musk of his skin. Involuntarily, Spock met the human's eyes, and read the gleam of mischief there.

He was trapped against the command chair, and knew that Kirk read his discomfiture, hoped desperately that it was not obvious to the rest of the bridge crew. Kirk was deliberately teasing him, he realized abruptly, radiating that physical vitality across the space which separated them, fully conscious of the effect it was having on his first officer, and enjoying every minute of it.

Spock became aware that he was losing the battle for control of his own responses. Face too warm, he met Kirk's eyes helplessly.

The hazel eyes relented, taking pity on him. Kirk moved away, smiling hellos to Richardson and Sulu, giving Spock a little space in which to breathe.

The Vulcan's rising erection nudged insistently against his lower abdomen, making him shift uncomfortably. He turned awkwardly to sit in the comm chair, silently grateful for the new hip-length, loose fitting tunics. He was shamed by his inability to control his own body--and somehow, that fundamental loss of control aroused him even more. Unable to stop himself, he followed Kirk with his eyes.

The fluid grace of him hypnotized the Vulcan, making him think scandalous thoughts. Kirk came to stand in front of him, leaning to look over Sulu's shoulder, and Spock felt his eyes drawn inexorably to the curve of his neck, the graceful, muscled lines of his throat, the tiny, down-soft hairs of his nape, tawny against soft skin.

He tried to look away--could not.

Kirk was at Navigation, now, circling the bridge, feeling his ship. Spock watched him surreptitiously, and knew that Kirk was aware of the Vulcan's eyes on him, knew that in some fashion he did not quite understand, Kirk was seducing him, as surely as if he had stripped slowly and offered himself naked for Spock's consumption.

Spock glanced furtively at Uhura, at Jerry Richardson, but they were intent on their work, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. How could they fail to notice? Surely the electricity must be visible on his skin, now. Surely this torture must be written in his face.

Then Kirk circled back to him, coming to stand at his side, centimeters away. He didn't look at Spock, only stood, and let his hand come to rest casually on the arm of the chair. Spock felt the current sparking between them, and suppressed a shudder. Any moment now, Sulu would turn, or Uhura would, and read them like an open book.

Kirk shot him a sidelong glance from beneath lowered lashes. Spock met it, his face full of heat, and misery, and mute, helpless appeal.

Jim smiled, and his eyes granted mercy.

"Mister Spock," he said innocently, all business, "I would like to hear your preliminary report on the survey. Will you come with me?" And he flashed the Vulcan a searing, raking look that made the flames leap higher in Spock's rebellious body. Spock got up without a word and followed him up the steps on legs which trembled, unable to speak, struggling to keep his rigid cock from pressing too obviously against the fabric of his uniform.

On the threshold of the lift, Kirk turned. "Mister Sulu, you have the con." He stepped inside, the Vulcan on his heels, and the doors closed.

Spock shut his eyes in silent relief, and drew a breath--and then he was pulling Kirk to him with a strength which would not be denied. His hands closed on the muscled arms. He pressed against the length of Kirk's body, helpless to stop himself, lowering his head to claim the other's mouth hungrily. Desire bloomed in the pit of his stomach, and his cock slid against Kirk's belly, pressing against the warm, yielding flesh. He realised that Jim, too, was extremely aroused--felt that hard, hot pressure against his thighs. Overcome, he plunged his tongue into the Human's mouth and forced him against the wall of the turbolift.

Kirk responded, his hands lacing in the silky black hair, his hips thrusting against the Vulcan's. They kissed hungrily, tongues touching in shuddering caresses, and Spock groaned with the pleasure of it. The lift slowed. Kirk broke away long enough to gasp, "Lift, stop!" Then Spock's hands found his ass and squeezed the firm curves, pulling the human's hips against him, and the Vulcan felt himself swell even larger, felt a sudden, hot wetness against his stomach.

Kirk's hands slid between them, under Spock's tunic, touching his skin. Spock gave a low gasp against his mouth, shivering. Then Jim's fingertips brushed the underside of his pectoral muscles, touched his nipples, and he gasped again. Before he could catch his breath, strong fingers closed on his nipples, pinched them, hard.

Panting, moaning involuntarily, Spock's hips thrust helplessly against Kirk's. He was delirious, drowning in the liquid heat in his groin, in his belly. In a hot haze of desire, he felt the hands slide down his ribs, across his exquisitely sensitive pelvic bones, under his trousers, pulling them down and freeing his aching cock in one swift motion.

"Jim... oh..." he panted, realizing he was utterly incoherent, not caring. He reeled, caught himself against the railing.

Then the hands touched him, and he cried out. They were stroking him, holding him, slipping between his buckling legs to stroke the tight, sensitive skin. Suddenly he knew that he could not wait any more, and his hands gripped the lift handholds, and a deep, shuddering pleasure welled up, building--

Abruptly, the hands were gone, and he whimpered in protest, shaking with need, hovering on the brink of release. But the hands did not return. He opened his eyes to find Jim watching him intently, not moving, not touching him.

"Please--" The Vulcan whispered, begging him with his eyes, one breath from doing something he would regret. Kirk was only three days out of sickbay. It was putting it mildly to say that he looked the definition of 'fully recovered,' but Spock still feared hurting him in his urgency.

The eyes which held his glowed green with satisfaction, and Spock saw that this had been his object, all along--that Kirk had done this deliberately. Spock was now totally at his mercy.

Jim smiled, his eyes dangerous.

"Say it, Spock," he commanded huskily.

The Vulcan shook his head in mute desperation.

"You're going to have to say it," the Human murmured, his eyes encouraging, enflaming. "Tell me what you want."

"Jim, please--" Spock choked.

The green eyes softened to amber, suddenly gentle. "Tell me, Spock," he whispered, and the tip of a pink tongue appeared, delicately moistening the full, flushed lips.

The Vulcan heard himself make a tiny, shocking sound of raw need. He closed his eyes.

"Let me come," he whispered, feeling himself burning. "Jim, please--make me come."

And suddenly strong arms were encircling him, holding him up, warm hands on his ass and arms sliding down around his hips, supporting him, and Jim sank to his knees.

"Yes" Kirk whispered, his breath dancing across the Vulcan's skin. And he took Spock's throbbing sex into his mouth.

Jim's tongue touched him, and Spock would have fallen, if not for the arms which held him. His brain shorted out. Then Jim began to move against him, tongue stroking him, sucking him against the back of his throat.

Kirk's arms tightened around his hips, holding him up, drawing him closer. Spock heard himself making those little sounds in his throat, undone. The pleasure soared in dizzying, overwhelming surges, threatened to make him black out. It rose hotly up the back of his thighs, through every nerve of his lower body, circling in a spiral that mounted once, twice, a third wave so powerful it shattered him. Sensation spun out in a long, hovering moment of anchorless rapture, and then Kirk's tongue circled the head of his cock slowly, lovingly, and he climaxed uncontrollably. His body jerked, a wordless cry drawn up from some place deep within him, irresistible. It racked him a second time, and the raw ecstasy of it was almost an agony.

For long seconds, Spock's consciousness narrowed to oblivion. Then he could feel the arms holding him up, and Kirk swallowing, swallowing, not taking his tongue from the tender, delicate place which throbbed at his touch. Spock shuddered convulsively, his throat seizing as the blunt, shattering wave of pleasure ravaged him, until he could not bear it any more.

Finally the tremors subsided, and his knees gave out under him. Jim caught him, drew him down, into his arms.

They sat like that for long minutes, Kirk with his back resting against the wall of the lift, Spock with his trousers open, panting dazedly in his captain's arms, his head resting heavily on Kirk's white-clad shoulder. The Vulcan thought idly that he hoped very much there were no stray Orions about today. He didn't think he could have moved for a red alert, or a supernova. Kirk stroked his temple absently, pressing soft kisses to his hair. His erection still pressed gently against Spock's side, but Kirk made no move to do anything about it, seemingly content to hold to the moment.

When Spock could think again, he tilted his head back, searching Jim's face. For the first time he let himself really look, let himself feel the relief, the overpowering fear he had not really acknowledged until now. So close. They were always so close to losing this.

Smiling down at him, Kirk licked his lips delicately, making Spock shiver almost imperceptibly. "You are powerful medicine, my friend. I think I've made a miraculous recovery." His eyes were so full of understanding and affection and pure love that Spock almost could not look at them.

Powerful medicine indeed, he thought, feeling his fear unclench and ease as if by magic.

He raised one eyebrow, playing the game, so grateful to still be able to play it with him. "So, this was a prescription from McCoy, then?"

Kirk chuckled, delighted with him. "Right. Doctor's orders. But you know, now that I think about it I think I'd better up the dosage..." And he leaned down and kissed Spock tenderly, still smiling against the Vulcan's mouth.

You must login (register) to review.