Spock sat on his meditation mat. His legs were neatly folded underneath his body and his fingertips were pressed against one another after his fingers had easily fallen into the well trained angles that were needed for his concentration. He wore his dark, simple meditation robe, whose fabric was caressing the naked flesh underneath and his head with the black, glossy hair was bent in a precise 45 degree angle towards the flickering flame of the idol.
The half-Vulcan had been kneeling on the mat for nearly an hour now, unable to concentrate and simply listening to the quiet rustling his mate was producing behind him. Jim sat at Spock’s desk, working his way through report after report. He could not see the human, but he was almost painfully aware of his presence. The occasional thoughtful hum was reaching his sensitive ears and Spock was almost 98.7 percent certain that Jim knew of him not meditating and just listening to the human being... human.
It was soothing and at the same time it made the Vulcan unbelievably tense. A foolish, illogical notion that drove him to slowly, almost surreptitiously rotate his shoulders in order to loosen the muscles of his neck.
“You need something?” Jim’s obviously amused voice came from behind. Spock’s shoulders instantly snapped into a rigid line again.
“No,” came his terse answer. He knew it sounded petulant and he felt the blush of shame creep up his neck. Jim had to see that, which made the blush only go deeper. It was most... unacceptable.
“You sure? You seem pretty restless these past days,” the human quipped. Spock lowered his head an additional 5 degree.
“Vulcans do not get restless,” he intoned. There was a long silence and he almost thought Jim had gone back to his reading when he heard the man say with slow deliberation, “Maybe. But humans certainly do – and you’re half-human, Spock.”
Spock did not answer to that. He had to resist the urge to draw his shoulders up to his ears in a defensive gesture and his fingers slipped from their precise positions in order to slide together and clasp together. Hard.
‘Yes. My human half. It elicits several illogical urges,’ he thought and his thoughts wandered – as they were prone to do in the past two weeks – back to that day after the away mission that had led to him being injured and to Jim taking... care of him.
Spock deliberately shoved the short, neatly manicured fingernail of his right thumb into the flesh of his left hand – the pain helped him to focus upon the happenings from that day as reasonable as possible while his heart started its frantic fluttering again.
If he was not absolutely sure that his eidetic memory was always correct he would have thought that this... episode... had been a rather bizarre dream.
Even now the fact that he had called Jim... well... what he had called him was almost unconceivable. Almost his first action the next morning had been to check computer databases for references to this strange phenomenon and carding through his own psyche if anything was wrong with him.
There had to be a false connection of synapses that had led him to this highly inappropriate conduct. For Spock of Vulcan to behave in this highly shameful way was...
He slowly shook his head, not aware of Jim’s hazel eyes that were watching him intently from his place behind the desk. The human’s eyebrows were furrowed in deep contemplation while he watched these little signs Spock was exuding with more and more frequency. Something was weighing the Vulcan down – and he though he knew exactly what it was.
Their interaction this past two weeks had been a little strained – none of them had managed to somehow brace the delicate subject of their strange little role play and they had been frankly determined to act as if nothing had happened although it so obviously had been rather... spectacular.
He wondered what was going on in Spock’s head.
It had been irresistible. The pull of Jim’s commanding voice never failed to arouse the Vulcan but this time it had not only awakened his lust, but something vastly different. The secret yearning that suddenly had raised its head and tentatively unfolded itself had thrown the alien for a loop. He liked to think that he knew everything about himself – even the last little, darker recesses of his mind that were driving him again and again to try and dominate his human and exert the Vulcan warrior upon him that was lurking deep inside his psyche.
This strange yearning for... affection, though – that had been new. At least he had never noticed it. Or had he simply shoved it aside?
It was disconcerting, to say the least. To hear Jim calling him ‘Son’ and treat him like something... precious. Something to be cherished and protected. The Vulcan slowly opened his eyes that he had not realized were clenched shut and stared at his fingers. The skin was tightly stretched over his knuckles.
He understood on a purely logical level the distance his father had taken to him. Displays of emotion or affection were highly discouraged – they stood in the way of their teachings. He never had felt ire or displeasure towards him as a child; after all this was simply the way everything went and it would have been illogical to question it.
On another level, however... there seemed to be a gaping hole inside him. A hole that had been ripped open two weeks ago and was slowly bleeding him out, yearning to be filled. He had tried tightly leashing these strange, embarrassing desires with Vulcan discipline, but he found that he was only breaking more and more apart the stronger he tried to suppress and – in the long run – bury his human side.
Even meditation was not helping anymore – the reason why he was kneeling restless upon the mat, debating his dilemma in the silence of his head and unable to speak with Jim about it.
The human had been willing to go along with this charade – Jim was a playful human male – but would he not be disgusted if he realized that this was not merely ‘some play’ for Spock but something the Vulcan – half-Vulcan – actually craved?
Spock bit his lower lip, his shoulders hunching forward slightly without him noticing it.
‘I am a disgrace to my people... I shame them deeply and I degrade my bondmate in making him participate in these sick affairs,’ he thought when Jim’s voice once more brought him out of his reverie.
“Spock. I know something isn’t right. Talk to me, will ya?”
“Everything is just fine, Jim. Would you please let me meditate in peace?” Spock said tersely. He did not know why he was so waspish – why he deliberately pushed Jim’s buttons. He knew that his temperamental human would not take kindly to being spoken to in such a way and yet he could not withstand the inner urge of baiting him to... to do what exactly?
Silence reigned for precisely 37 seconds.
“You’re not really meditating.”
“So you are an expert in Vulcan conduct now?” Spock positively hissed. He felt totally off balance.
Another 24 seconds silence.
“Come here, you stubborn brat.”
Breath Spock had not noticed he had been holding rushed out of him rather explosively and everything seemed to crumble in on himself.
Slowly he turned first his head then his upper body around, looking towards the Captain of the Enterprise, being seated behind his desk a severe expression on his face and looking utterly formidable.
His unflappable mind provided him instantly with a long forgotten scene.
Sarek sitting behind his office deck and looking severely down upon his six year old son who had tears streaming down his cheeks and a swollen lip where he had almost bitten it through. Small hands were tightly wringing each other, while his father looked on dispassionately.
‘I will be contacting the parents of these boys. Them harassing you for your mixed blood should not pose a problem in the future. You may go into your room now, Spock.’ The boy nodded haltingly, valiantly trying to stop his lips from quivering or his eyes from exuding moisture. He turned around, silently sniffing. The quiet, authoritative voice of his father reached his ears a few moments before he left the room.
‘And clean your nose, Spock. Your conduct is not appropriate.’
Spock very slowly and very deliberately blinked. Then he blinked again. And again.
“Jim...” he croaked. He had unclasped his hands and they were slowly but surely starting to clench in the fabric of his robe.
The hazel eyes were looking at him hard for another few seconds until something in the handsome face shifted and he slowly pushed his chair back.
“Come here...” he said, his voice low and soothing, while patting his knee with one hand.
Spock shook his head. He didn’t want to. He did not want to degrade his mate into participating in this shameful act. He did not want to disgrace his race further (and which of the two was he thinking of right now? He was so confused).
The deep yearning in his belly was almost painful now. Spock could see the open invitation in Jim’s gaze and some deep, primal part was only too ready to grasp it and press it inside himself where he could lock it away never to be let go again. Only distantly was Spock aware of the fact that he had turned his lower body around as well so that he was kneeling facing Jim. His shoulders were canted towards the man sitting across the room behind the desk in a way that showed the deep urge of the alien to go to him while he still hung on to the stubborn pride that was raging inside him.
Spock could feel the corners of his mouth twitch downward and his lower lip trembling ever so slightly. (‘Them harassing you for your mixed blood should not pose a problem in the future. You may go into your room now, Spock.’)
His chest started heaving with his strong breaths as he tried to practically shake the voice of his father out of his head.
When Jim leaned slightly forward, watching him with intent eyes and when his lips finally stretched into a soft, indulgent grin that Spock had seldom seen on this hard man, he knew that he would loose.
What exactly, he was not sure.
“Come to Daddy, will ya?” Jim said with a low, soothing voice, holding his arms up and opening them a little.
Spock was not aware of the strangled whimper escaping his throat when he pushed himself almost clumsily to his feet and rushed across the room and around the desk.
Hard, big hands caught hold of his waist and he was pulled between spread legs and into a firm embrace. Jim pressed his face for a few moments into his stomach. He could hear the deep inhalation of the human.
Those eyes were always getting to Jim. Those oh-so-human eyes with all their emotions right there just for the taking. For him to take. For him to take and keep in seclusion; worship and nourish them. Jim was a selfish bastard – no one else should ever witness the delectable play of emotions in the soft, dark depths. Be it anger, possessiveness, anguish, passion, lust, love or... the open, helpless longing they had been wearing just a few moments prior.
He did not know if Spock was aware of how he was clearly expressing everything that was raging inside him. The human thought not. He also wasn’t sure if others were even able to discern anything in the dark depths. Maybe only he had the privilege of knowing Spock so well.
“My poor boy... What’s up with you?” he murmured into the heat radiating from Spock’s tightly constricted stomach. The Vulcan said nothing, but the hitching of his breath was enough for the Captain.
He slowly loosened the fast grip he had on the slender body and sat back in his chair, looking up towards the severe face that was looking down on him. The slanted eyebrows were drawn together into a slight frown, the corners of the delicately curved lips curved downwards.
His hazel eyes narrowed and he searched the austere face for any indication as to what was going on inside Spock. They knew each other for so long now and even more intimately since they had become involved six months prior and yet – he was not able to discern the exact problem that was troubling the Vulcan.
“I feel hollow,” Spock suddenly said in a very low whisper. His fists were tightly clenched at his side. Kirk did not know what he had anticipated – but this wasn’t it. He frowned.
“You... feel hollow? Why’s that?” he said after a short pause. He spoke slowly while the gears in his head were spinning madly.
When Spock bit his lip – something he had never seen the Vulcan do and that was making the grown alien look strangely young – he yearned to pull him into his lap, sooth him, stroke him... but he refrained for the moment. He did not know how to interpret the situation right now. Did Spock not want to play? But he had not rebuffed his advances in this direction...
Spock suddenly moved. He was looking positively harassed by this point, his dark eyes flitting away from the inquisitive gaze of his mate every now and again. He bowed down low, until his head was right next to Jim’s and the human could hear and feel the short, almost gasping breaths Spock was taking.
He was sounding so tormented that it ripped at the Captain’s heart.
“Will you... fill me? Will you fill that hollow space? Please take care of me... Daddy?” he whispered. It came out in a mad rush like he was divulging a big secret. His breath hitched afterward, his fists clenching spasmodically.
Jim drew in a sharp breath and curled his fingers over the armrests of the chair he was sitting in. He did not know if he should be enchanted, worried or hopelessly turned on. He settled for all three.
“Of course, Spock. I’ll do everything for my baby boy – you know that,” Jim growled, settling his hands one more time on Spock’s hips. He wanted to direct him onto his lap but the tall man refused, bracing himself on the Captain’s shoulders and almost – almost – sobbing into his ear, “But I don’t want to defile you. I don’t know why I have these urges. I can not understand it. By God, you don’t have to do this, you don’t, really, I...”
Jim seized Spock’s head and shut the babbling up with an effective kiss to the firm lips of the other man. He bit into the full lower lip; soft and yet hard enough to be noticed as a reprimand.
When he drew his head away Spock remained silent; his eyes were huge and vulnerable, the pupils fully dilated. Jim felt his heart break.
“My poor boy... What in earth is wrong with you? What torments you so?” he ground out. Never before had he witnessed Spock so totally breaking down. His thumbs were gently stroking high cheek bones. He gazed deep into those expressive human eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side.
“What have they done to you? Why have they tortured you so much? Have they not seen what a treasure you are, my sweet little treat?” he murmured at last. Spock’s eyes avoided his.
“They?” he repeated uneasily, suddenly afraid how much Jim knew of his life.
“Everyone. Every-fucking-one that has put a dent into your self-respect. God, don’t you know how exquisite you are, Spock? Everything you need I’ll provide gladly to you – because your pleasure is mine. I revel in every little sign of contentment from you. I need it more than breath,” the Captain said fiercely. Spock bit his lower lip again. He was looking as unsure and torn as was possible for a Vulcan.
Jim groaned deeply and his hands started fumbling on the sash of Spock’s robe.
“Take it off. Damn you, take that thing off. I’ve got to see you, son. You’re perfect. You are,” he emphasized when he saw the unconvinced glimmer in the dark eyes. “You are, who you are, Spock. You’re not simply one race or the other. You’re a living, breathing being, fully capable of being your own person. I don’t give a fuck as to what the others say. I don’t give a fuck if they like what we’re doing or if the think we’re sick for it,” he said with an intensity that made Spock shudder. Or maybe it was the fact that his meditation robes were shoved unceremoniously from his body and he was standing naked in front of his seated mate. Kirk blew out a long breath; both his rough, calloused hands were slowly rubbing across the flat stomach of the half-Vulcan, his thick fingers carding through the dark treasure trail that was bisecting it in the middle and drew the gaze lower towards the resting genitalia.
“You’re perfection. You on your own... You’re perfect for me at least and that’s what counts. You’re my perfect, little boy.”
He raked his gaze in slow reverence over the lean, tightly muscled body. All planes and hard angles. Spock’s chest heaved tremendously one time and suddenly he sank to his knees between the Captain’s legs as if all his strings had been cut.
“Daddy...” he positively whimpered, while pressing his face against Jim’s lower stomach and groin and his slender arms went around him. Vulcan strength was gripping the sitting man until it was uncomfortable. Jim said nothing; he revelled in it.
Spock had not been prepared for this feeling of complete vertigo that had brought him to his knees. Did Jim even know what he was doing with his words? That he was lapping and caressing at all those tiny wounds time and people had cut into the very being of the stoic Vulcan? It was not enough to heal them; no, they would probably never be healed. They were too old and deeply seated. But this primal feeling of being... cared for. Cherished. It was enough to bring one formidable, stoic, strong, fiercely intelligent half-Vulcan down upon his knees to worship the single most important being in his life.
Jim had to force himself to breath slow and deep while Spock was kneeling naked and vulnerable before him. He could look over the expanse of a long, lean, white back; could see the protruding vertebra that were guiding the gaze deeper to the top of the dark fold of the Vulcan’s ass, then back up to the creamy neck that had blushed lime green in Spock’s agitation.
The Captain slowly brought his arms up and crossed them possessively around the not-quite-trembling shoulders.
“My poor baby boy...” he murmured at last, hearing Spock’s breath hitch and bringing his right hand up to cup his neck. He started rubbing it, carding his thick, calloused fingers through the short, silky strands at the base of the skull and tracing with the other hand the cartilage of one of the pointed ears that were presented to him in this delectable fashion right now.
“None of these others matter any more. You’re with me now, son. And I’ll protect you with everything I have. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not – just give yourself in my hands and let me steer you in the right direction.”
He bowed as low as he could without dislodging the head of the Vulcan that was pressed against his lower abdomen and murmured, “I’m a Captain, after all.”
Spock blew out a long breath and slowly raised his head. The look of open adoration he was sending Jim travelled straight to his cock that had been up until this point flaccid, but was starting to take rapid interest in the proceedings now.
A green blush slowly crept up Spock’s neck and his pointed tongue flitted out in order to moisten his lips.
“Yes, Daddy...” the deep voice suddenly intoned and Jim couldn’t stop himself closing his eyes in utter bliss. That was it – the thing he had been waiting for. Spock’s capitulation had been only too apparent in the austere face. Suddenly it was not important anymore if others would ever be able to see how obviously the half-Vulcan was glowing for him in the way the slanted eyebrows were ever-so-slightly raised or the strain around the severe looking lips was not as pronounced as usual. He could see it and that was all that mattered.
He shoved one hand under Spock’s chin, gripping the lower jaw of the man and raising his head higher in order to capture the delicately curved lips in a long kiss. The Vulcan was uncharacteristically placid; he did not grab Jim’s shoulders and haul him closer or lick demandingly at the corners of the ever-smiling lips. He merely followed the human’s every lead, taking only what was given to him.
When Jim experimentally travelled with the tip of his tongue along the seam of Spock’s mouth the lips opened immediately. He was drawn in by the heat of the alien, rubbing his tongue against its counterpart and exploring the sharp edges of white teeth.
Jim was marvelling in the placidness of the normally strong willed being; it really was something he could get used to – on occasion.
Slowly but surely the kiss got more heated; two tongues were starting to messily lick at one another, breath was being blown into open, wet mouths and hands were starting to scrabble at Jim’s clothing, trying to get the Captain out of the constricting material.
Jim grinned against panting, hotter-than-human lips and caught the fumbling hands between his own. He started to slowly rub with rough, calloused finger pads across vulnerable, sensitive skin.
“Nah – ah – ah. Not so fast, my little treat,” he murmured against Spock’s lips and pressed another kiss upon them, before sitting slowly back in his chair. The needy whimper Spock was emitting shot white hot lust down his spine and made the already prominent bulge of his trousers twitch.
God, but Spock was responsive in this state of mind... So unleashed; so... uninhibited; so eager to please.
Jim slowly licked his lips, savouring the last taste of his mate, before he nodded downwards to his pants.
“You wanna be a good boy, don’t you? You wanna suck your Daddy’s cock, don’t you, Spock?” he said slowly. His voice was husky and deeper than usual. He saw the slight hesitation in the dark eyes that were flicking from his face towards his crotch and back again. Jim’s gut started to twist in nervous anticipation. Was that too much? Had his words been too crude?
And all of a sudden the rigidity of naked shoulders was practically melting in front of his eyes and the formidable Vulcan started rubbing his cheek on the clothed inner thigh of his Captain like a cat.
“Yes... yes, please, Daddy,” he whispered, the dark voice nearly inaudible. Jim blew his breath out.
He felt like he was in a daze when he opened his trousers with fingers that were – surprisingly enough – not trembling in the least.
He raised his hips slightly from the seat when he drew his erection out of its confines with one hand and hooked the elastic band of his briefs under his balls with the other hand – raising the heavy sack with its golden-brown curls and getting it on display in front of raptly watching dark eyes.
“Come, son...” he murmured, gripping Spock’s chin and drawing him nearer towards his genitals. He was still encasing his shaft with the other fist and when the Vulcan opened his mouth eagerly, diving for the engorged, rosy head, the hand slithered upwards, cupping the glans and grinning slowly at the slightly confused gaze Spock shot him.
“No... down here at first,” he murmured. His hand threaded itself through dark, glossy strands and guided the unresisting head towards the heavy testicles.
His eyes fell shut and a low, rumbling moan escaped his throat when wet, unholy heat engulfed them. Spock pulled no punches; he drew the sensitive sack deep into his mouth, laving eagerly at it and letting it plop out of the moist cavern again, only to blow breath over the spit soaked area.
“Go-o-o-d,” Jim stuttered out, his thick fingers gripping his cock in a death grip. It was pulsing angrily in his fist.
He felt sharp teeth tug ever-so-slightly on the curls, before an agile tongue immediately started soothing the slight sting.
The tip of a long nose started nuzzling the heavy sack. He could feel Spock inhale deeply time and time again – soaking in the musky, utterly male scent of his human lover.
“Nnnghh... Up... Up you go, son...” Jim panted finally, not able to withstand the molten heat of the delectable mouth upon his cock any longer. Spock was only too eager to engulf the glans after they had been given free from Jim.
The tip of an overly pointed tongue started flickering against the sensitive little triangle at the bottom of the cock-head, where all those little folds were merging together and Jim stuttered another breath out, his eyes rolling back into his head for but a moment.
Spock’s movements were slow and tentative despite the eagerness with which he had swallowed the hard column. He suckled and nibbled at the engorged head, his tongue eagerly lapping at the leaking slit, until Jim slowly raised his head from its resting place where it had sunk into his neck without him noticing it and blearily looked downwards.
He felt his testicles almost painfully constrict upon the sight that greeted him; green tinged, swollen lips stretched around his dick; a narrow, normally aloof face tilted upwards towards him; great, soft eyes fixed with an expression of utter trust and adoration upon him.
“Fu-u-u-ck,” he stuttered and reached with one trembling hand towards Spock’s cheek in order to gently rub with the shivering fingers across it.
“Such a good boy... You’re worshipping your Dad’s altar so well, aren’t you? So exquisite...” he croaked and as if that had been Spock’s hint the man slowly closed his eyes in utter bliss and slid further down upon the turgid shaft, while emitting a deep, guttural growl in the back of his throat.
Jim cried out hoarsely, his right hand flying towards his testicles and drawing them hard downwards in order to prolong his orgasm, while his other hand tried to stroke as soft as possible through the glossy cap of dark hair.
“Good... good... so good... My boy...” he panted raggedly, while he felt an agile tongue trace the thick, throbbing vein at the underside of his shaft and the tight ring of lips that was massaging his length.
Jim’s eyelids started to droop and he let go of his testicles after the first surge of white hot lust gave way to a low, simmering burning.
“Come, let me show you something,” he growled, while gripping his shaft with one hand and Spock’s head with the other. Again he marvelled in the way how placidly the half-Vulcan let himself be guided.
Spock felt like he was drunk. A fog of utter contentment and bliss was filling his being and nurturing the lazy electrical surges of his arousal. He was eagerly lapping up every little word of encouragement and praise he was receiving. It was addicting; to get what he so long had yearned for – the simple act of being comforted and accepted.
“Keep your mouth open, my baby boy...” Jim was saying and Spock could feel his cock twitch longingly. Yes... yes... he would keep his mouth open. Everything – just more of the praise, of the caring, of the utter love and devotion that was poured upon him.
His eyes were half lidded and fixed upon his mate while Jim slowly and lazily let the swollen head of his cock pop a few times in and out of the willingly opened lips, until he started dipping deeper into the hot, moist cavern and angling Spock’s head until the leaking glans were rubbing against Spock’s inner cheek.
Jim watched in utter fascination the bulging of the lean cheek whenever his cock was pressing against it. His mouth fell slowly open and he was licking his lips.
“You perfect creature,” he murmured, letting go of his shaft and gingerly rubbing with two fingers across the taut skin. He pressed slightly.
The dual sensation of his cock sinking into the willingly opened mouth and him rubbing it from the other side of the membrane made his eyes roll back into his head.
“Damn!” he hissed explosively. Suddenly everything had to be quick – oh so quick. He gripped Spock’s head with both hands and started pumping inside the mouth. Suction and a delectable lapping at the underside of the angrily pulsing shaft were provided almost innocently and it did not take long, until he began babbling.
“Yes... Nnggh... I’m so close, Spock... So close. You’ll drink everything, won’t you? Yes... yes!!”
Jim’s eyes snapped open and he stared at the ceiling while his mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ when burst after burst of his seed shot out of his twitching erection. Heavy testicles were drawn tightly towards his body and quivering with their effort to pump the viscous fluid out into the welcoming moist heat that was swallowing the hot spurts, until nothing else was left.
The Captain slowly closed his eyes when he felt Spock release his deflating cock and softly lap at the over-stimulated tissue in his effort to clean him.
‘I could really use a nap now...’ he thought lazily. Hot, prickling contentment was washing through him and made his toes and fingers curl slowly and deliciously, until...
The already deep voice was positively gravelly and husky with need. With an effort Jim raised his head and glanced to the Vulcan still kneeling between his thighs. Spock was leaning a little backwards, shining eyes fixed upon his mate, hair dishevelled and askew and his hips slowly pumping forward, drawing the hazel gaze deeper towards a heavy erection that was bouncing deliciously. Spock’s cock was wet from the copious amounts of pre-cum it was producing and there was a moist spot on his stomach where the tip of his dick was touching it every so often in his undulating movements.
Jim watched with rapt attention as a string of clear fluid stretched between the leaking slit and the taut stomach until it snapped.
He started slightly as if brought out of a dream by it.
“You’ve earned a reward, my precious baby boy, haven’t you? For sucking your Dad’s cock so wonderfully...” he growled deeply while tugging his soft cock back in and rearranging his clothes. Spock licked his lips, the deep flush on his cheeks growing more pronounced.
“Yes... please, Daddy. I am so hard...” he murmured and avoided the intense gaze of his mate. The tips of his ears were flushing a verdant green in embarrassment.
And damn if that wasn’t hot – Spock so seldom said what he wanted; he almost never spoke during sex.
“Turn around – on all fours, son,” Jim directed, watching as the command was eagerly obeyed. Seeing the long, slender body of his mate crouch on all fours was a delicious sight in and off itself – to be able to see heavy, dangling testicles between slightly spread thighs and the tight pucker of his anus peek out between perfect, round cheeks was heaven.
Jim slid out of his chair and directly behind the kneeling and slightly shivering alien. One arm wound around a slender hip, taking the leaking cock into hand. He hissed between clenched teeth while Spock cried out, throwing his head back. The shaft in the circle of his fingers was burning hot and as hard as Jim had seldom felt before. It had to be almost painful.
‘That won’t take long,’ he mused while stroking Spock’s shivering back soothingly with his other hand.
“Poor boy... So hard and eager for your Daddy. I’ll make it better. Just wait,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to one of the delectably presented cheeks and parting them with the hand not pumping the erection lazily.
He stretched his tongue out, dragging the tip along the crack until it could circle the verdant blushed pucker. Spock cried out again, his back straining downwards until it made an elegant, curved line and he started rocking back and forth.
Jim grinned while rubbing across the twitching entrance to Spock’s body with his slippery tongue. He loved doing this for Spock – the man was always as neat as a cat and the Captain was utterly addicted to the spicy scent that was so inherent for the alien body.
He let his fingers play with the double ridges. They were moving within his grasp – expanding and retracting as if they were a living, breathing being.
There was a spurt of clear fluid shooting directly into Jim’s palm and he knew with the certainty of a long-time-lover that Spock was right on the edge. Right on the precipice to plunging down into an overwhelming orgasm.
The human blew hot breath across the wet entrance, watching it wink at him once as if in invitation, before he surrounded it with his lips and sucked while simultaneously rubbing his tongue over the over-sensitised flesh – and Spock was off like a canon.
The viscous Vulcan semen was dripping of the fist that was gripping the twitching flesh tightly and splashing the floor of their cabin with quite a few drops.
Jim held on to the shivering, twitching body of his mate, riding out the orgasm with him and murmuring sweet, soothing nonsense into the small of Spock’s back while pressing moist kisses along his spine.
When the last spasm of the turgid cock ended and Spock started squirming uncomfortably away from the hard grip on his genitalia, the human let go of him and eased the naked body down with him towards the floor.
“You are who you are, Spock. I’d never have you otherwise – you can be a full Vulcan or a human or a Betazoid. It doesn’t matter to me. You shouldn’t be ashamed for what you need on occasion,” Jim murmured after about five minutes of lying on the floor and catching their breaths.
He felt the slender body shuddering in his arms and sighed. It would probably take a while until Spock started accepting this... illogical need to sometimes give himself over to his partner and let himself being cared for.
Jim turned towards him and pressed a kiss to the half-Vulcan’s temple.
“I love you, Spock.”
The dark eyes that were fixed upon him slowly slid away. Spock did not like these open declarations of love and he seldom reciprocated them. This time, however...
“I love you too, Jim.”
A slender arm was being draped over the human’s mid section and he was hugged strongly against an overly warm body.