Jim Kirk stood in his new quarters and grinned smugly at his own reflection. Playing pirates this shore leave was proving to be even easier than he'd expected. Designing the ship itself had been simple—even fun—although the central heating had given him a few bad moments. Overhead, as Spock had requested, blue and gold sails billowed in the wind, while above them flew the traditional skull and crossbones. The ship floated in a large, tranquil sea of his own design, with only small waves and mild currents to trouble its surface. He had manual control, if he chose to use it, and a very up-to-date computerized automatic pilot if he didn't. His plan called for a great deal of time spent below decks with his willing victim.
Now, surveying himself in a freshly-created full-length mirror, Jim tried to resist a strong temptation to preen. His only garments were a pair of ragged black pants cut off just below crotch level, and a red sash tied jauntily around his waist. There was no question but that he looked terrific. Satisfied with his appearance, Kirk turned once more to study the rest of the Captain's cabin, with particular attention to a tremendous bed which filled the entire back of his room.
Restraints. What kind? A real pirate captain would probably use iron chains—obligingly they appeared, four of them, solidly anchored to the four corners of the bed, each ending in an ominous-looking metal cuff. He could feel his cock stir in his pants, and guiltily tried to suppress it. Those are horrendous, he thought angrily, and made them disappear.
Trying to visualize something beautiful, comfortable, and yet unbreakable, he was gratified when four exquisitely wrought chains materialized, fashioned from what appeared to be solid platinum.
The hand and ankle cuffs came next.... smooth, thickly-padded leather, soft, pliant... unyielding.
For good measure, he added mounds of pillows and a red velvet bedspread. The effect was outright decadent—the combination of luxury and the practical, unmistakable efficiency of the restraints was deeply exciting. Spock should be impressed by the thoroughness of his design... actually, Spock was going to be a problem.
His bondmate simply was not taking this seriously. He had not even really wanted to visit the Shore Leave planet again, still considering it illogical to spend one's time with illusions.
"But I'll be real," Kirk had argued just that morning. "Anyway, they're not true illusions... the Caretakers manufacture them. They've really perfected their methods, too—you don't have to wait at all for the things to be made—everything just materializes like... well, like magic."
"You may, of course, plan our leave as you wish," Spock had acquiesced, not particularly caring where they went as long as they were together and Jim was happy. The notion of playing pirates didn't much appeal to him, however, and he had said as much to Jim. "There must be another fantasy you would prefer to realize—something a little less..."
"Are you going to give me a bad time?" his Captain had demanded, hands on hips, eyes flashing.
"No, no," Spock had answered hastily. "I shall cooperate with you fully, however bizarre I consider your ideas to be." He will, too, Jim thought now. He'll walk right in here and lie down on that bed and let me tie him up—and ruin the whole thing. What I'd like to do is overpower him and bring him on board—but how can I do that without his cooperation? I don't want him to let me win, but I wouldn't have a chance in a fair fight. A smile was tugging at his mouth. He'll just have to be tricked into it, that's all. I should be able to work out something suitably devious.
The warm sand shifted under Spock's boots as he materialized on the beach where he was to meet Jim. "Don't worry if I'm not there when you beam down," Kirk had told him. "I have a few things to set up still. You can start on your tan while you wait.” The sun beat down from a blazing blue sky and Spock stepped out of his uniform and boots, stripping down to his black undershorts. Briefly, he wished he had brought a beach blanket, and one appeared on the sand. He blinked, annoyed at this instant transmutation of his thoughts into reality.
But the blanket was there... he stretched out on his back and sighed, stretching lazily. Now this was his idea of shore leave—he fervently wished Jim would abandon the idea of a ship and what sounded like a strenuous game.
After he had realized how intent Kirk was on this idea he'd gone through all the library tapes on old style Earth pirates. They seemed to have had a penchant for pillaging, burning, and ravishing—particularly ravishing—so Spock was fairly well aware of what Jim's plans were. "Goods taken by force..." A slow flush rose in his face at the memory of those words—and the tone in which they had been uttered, and the look which had accompanied them... His penis twitched and he stretched again, rolling over to let the beginning erection nestle in warm, blanket-covered sand. The sun heated up his back and he began to feel drowsy.
Kirk moved soundless across the sand, covering the distance separating him from Spock with long strides. In a few moments he stood over the sleeping Vulcan, who looked so peaceful that his lover almost relented... almost. Then Jim grinned and bent over. Carefully he took both of Spock's limp hands and crossed them behind his back, slipping one of the thick, soft ropes he had brought underneath. Spock stirred. "Jim?"
"Yes, it's just me. Go back to sleep." Accustomed by now to Jim's habitual gropings, Spock let himself drift for one more moment. It was the sharp tug as the rope pulled tight around his wrists that woke him up all the way. Jim leaped on his back, slapped both hands over Spock's mouth, pinning him to the ground by digging a knee sharply into his spine.
"Now you are mine," he whispered theatrically into one pointed ear. Spock sighed. Evidently the game had begun. He tried to pull his face away from the muffling hands, but their grip was too tight. A cool tongue probed his ear, tracing the inner contours, making him shiver. "There is no way you can escape me," he was informed in the same dramatic tones. "You are my prisoner." Jim's confidence was a challenge Spock could not resist. He twisted suddenly, and succeeded in rolling over onto his back, only to discover that his wrists were far more securely bound than he'd expected. He wrenched at them and Jim laughed, sat up, straddling him easily. "Don't even try—I made the rope too strong even for you." He had released Spock's mouth, and the Vulcan, after another futile attempt to get free, glared up at him.
"Why are you doing this in such a ridiculous manner? There was no need for you to attack me—I would have accompanied you wherever you wished." Jim covered his mouth again, leaning forward, adding his weight to the pressure.
"I had a hunch you'd try to take all the fun out of it. I know you'd have come by yourself, but that's not the point. You're my booty, remember?" One winged eyebrow climbed, expressing eloquently its owner’s opinion of Jim's version of fun.
The Human was looking thoughtful, and in a moment a large red bandana appeared on the ground next to him. He let go of Spock's face and picked up the bright bit of cloth. "Since you obviously have no intention of entering into the spirit of this, I'm going to have to resort to more drastic measures." Spock shook his head vigorously, but Jim tangled one hand in the black hair—lightly, but the threat was there—and gagged him, knotting the ends securely. Then he sat back, shifting until his butt was directly on the Vulcan's crotch. He began to rock slowly, feeling under him the other's cock stiffening, responding to the gentle friction. Still moving, he twisted his body around in a 180 degree turn, hearing Spock's smothered moan of delight.
The gag and rope didn't seem to be interfering with his pleasure at all. Encouraged, Jim continued grinding his ass on Spock's cock while he picked up the other, longer piece of rope, leaning forward, looping it quickly around his bondmate's ankles, pulling it tight and tying it firmly. Spock made a strangled sound and tried to jerk himself away, but it was too late. He was securely bound, tightly gagged, and completely helpless. Jim turned again, stretching out on top of him. "Now," he murmured, "you are mine. I have you in my power and I won't let you go until you have learned to submit yourself to me, body and mind."
Spock tried to put all his indignation at this unwarranted treatment into his eyes but couldn't hold it in the face of the laughter sparkling in Jim's face. His position was not intrinsically uncomfortable—the ropes were too thick and smooth to chafe his skin, and the gag allowed him to breathe freely through his nose—while effectively muffling any sound he might make. Jim saw the change in Spock's expression and kissed his forehead.
"Is anything hurting you?" Spock shook his head.
"If you really want me to stop, I wlll—right now. Just say the word and I'll untie you. We can always find something else to do this shore leave." He loosened the cloth, pulled it down. Spock wet his lips.
"Not if you are enjoying yourself."
"I am--and I guarantee you will, too."
"Would it be possible to dispense with the gag?"
"Oh, sure. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
"Thank you. I shall try to refrain from saying anything further that would damage the illusion."
"You're a good sport, love." Jim rumpled the shining dark hair affectionately. "Now I'm going to carry you away to my ship and hold you captive there." He rose, brushing sand off himself, and for the first time Spock got a clear view of his scanty attire.
"You look beautiful, Jim," he said softly. Jim met that appreciative gaze and winked.
"That sounded so nice I'll overlook the fact that you broke the rules of the fantasy again."
“That is not necessarily true," Spock returned gravely. "Even a hapless seductee could hardly avoid noticing how extremely attractive you are."
"True. Very true." He braced himself, bent down and lifted Spock carefully, pausing to settle the Vulcan's hand on his shoulder before starting down the beach.
"Help, help," Spock called dutifully, and was set down again with a thump as Jim collapsed in a paroxysm of laughter. Finally, after several minutes, he brought himself back under control and rose, wiping his eyes.
"If you don't start behaving yourself, I'm going to gag you again," he threatened and picked Spock up once more. This time he made it all the way down the beach, turned a corner and reached the place where he'd grounded his longboat. Out on the sea the pirate ship waited—the blue and gold sails resplendant in the morning sun.
"Oh, no." Spock's voice held genuine dismay as he took in the open rowboat.
"Oh yes—I told you I was going to take you prisoner. Once on that vessel," he pointed with a flourish, "my word is law. There's no one who could even find you, let alone help you. You are entirely at my mercy."
It was an enticing prospect. Spock's pulse quickened as Jim stood and kissed him searchingly, finally releasing his mouth to lower him into the bottom of the boat.
Prepared for the feel of hard boards under his body, he was both surprised and relieved to be placed on a large, soft cushion. Jim plumped a pillow and slid it under Spock's head, before taking his seat at the oars and beginning to row.
Spock considered telling his bondmate how foolish such effort was in comparison with the other, easier methods he could have used to bring them on board the larger ship—the transporter leaped instantly to mind—but a glance at the red bandana hanging conspicuously from Jim's back pocket kept his mouth closed. Besides, the view presented of Jim bending forwards then arching back as he rowed, broad chest gleaming with sweat, muscles straining, was very appealing. By the time the bulk of the pirate ship loomed over them Spock's anticipation had mounted, and he was amused to note that he was trembling with excitement and... a little... fear.
Jim produced a wicked-looking knife from somewhere and cut Spock's ankle ropes. He indicated the long, sloping ramp which had appeared, stretching from the level of the small boat all the way to the deck above.
"You can walk up the gangplank or you can try swimming to shore with your hands tied—take your pick."
"Thank you..." drily, "I believe I shall walk."
Jim helped him to his feet, followed him up to the deck. Once on board he indicated an open door. "Through there—watch the stairs." Carefully Spock picked his way down the five narrow steps and through the swinging double doors leading to Kirk's quarters. No sooner had he entered than he was grabbed from behind, thrown onto a very well cushioned bed, and rolled onto his back. Jim slid the knife under Spock's briefs and cut them off. He began giving a very enthusiastic blow job and soon had Spock moaning, hands clenching into fists in his bonds. Dimly he was aware of Human fingers sliding down his thighs, caressing the backs of his knees, travelling along his calves to stroke his ankles, and all the while the cool mouth sucking, sucking. Then that mouth left him, thick bands closed snugly about both ankles, pulled them apart.
Startled, he jerked away. Impossible. Both legs, spread wide, were as securely bound as before.
Annoyed at his own gullibility—how simple I am making this for you!—he sat up, again pulling savagely at the rope around his wrists.
"Now what are you doing? I believe you have already taken me by force—the game should be over."
"What do you mean? I haven't 'taken' you yet... not in the way that I have in mind. Now shut up and lean against me while I get this off—careful, don't move, I'd hate to cut you by mistake." He pulled Spock forward against him, reaching around behind his back and slit the rope in two. Suspecting that Spock would not meekly acquiesce to the strapping down of his upper body, he tossed the knife across the room, ready for the impending struggle.
Enough, Spock decided. He had no intention of spending the rest of his leave as a prisoner here, no matter how comfortable it was. Pushing hard on Kirk's chest he managed to shove him backwards.
While the Captain was still trying to maintain his balance Spock lunged forward again and pushed him off the bed onto the floor. Jim moved warily, trying to catch Spock off guard, but the Vulcan was ready for him. There was no way he could get anywhere near Spock without coming within reach of those powerful hands. Kirk was well aware of his vulnerability to Spock's strength, and was in no frame of mind to be nerve pinched. He grinned flashingly, wickedly, watching Spock's eyebrows rise and his jaw set in silent reply.
Kirk moved back until he was at the far end of the room. Then he charged forward, built up speed and made a flying leap onto the bed. The impact took Spock's breath away and knocked him flat, despite his attempt to brace himself. Kirk threw all of his fairly considerable weight across Spock's body, literally knelt on the Vulcan's right arm and began using both hands to push Spock's other arm up to the top left corner of the bed.
Spock continued to resist, but he was at a hopeless disadvantage. Slowly, inexorably, his hand was pulled into the required position. Jim fastened the strap and pulled it tight, which made it a relatively simple matter to turn, capture and secure the other hand. There. Done. Panting, he lay sprawled over the prone body, waiting for his heart to return to a more normal rhythm.
Sharp teeth sank into Kirk's shoulder and he yelled, rolling hastily away and falling off the bed, landing rather painfully. Rubbing his posterior with one hand and his wounded shoulder with the other, he eased back onto the bed, being careful to avoid Spock's mouth. "You're going to pay for that," he warned, and Spock lowered his eyes demurely.
"I certainly hope so." Jim patted the Vulcan's cock, verifying that it was indeed still hard. The pat turned into a prolonged stroking, a detailed fondling of every vulnerable area of Spock's body. Jim knew them all, and continued his sweet inventory until Spock's hips began to thrust in anticipation. Then the leisurely caresses stopped, and Jim rose to his feet.
"Well, I have to go see to the ship—a Captain's job is never done, as you well know."
“Bastard," Spock said fondly and watched him go, taking the steps two at a time. He really didn't mind too much—without Jim's distracting presence it was not overly difficult to bring his mind and body back under minimal control. Testing his bonds, he found them secure—there was no way he could escape. Naked, spreadeagled on the tremendous bed, hearing Jim's footsteps on the deck above... he felt terribly exposed, vulnerable. Soon the boat shifted, creaked, and began to move forward. A cool salty breeze blew in the open porthole, caressing Spock's body with airy, teasing fingers, making him shiver pleasantly.
The continuing ache in his groin was a warm reminder of what was to come... soon, he was sure, having caught a glimpse of the bulge in Jim's shorts. His lover wouldn't be able to stay on deck for too long before his body demanded release.
Sure enough, after they had been underway for one point three six hours Spock heard Jim bound down the stairs again. I refuse to let him think I have been anxiously awaiting... Spock closed his eyes and feigned sleep.
Entering the room, Jim stopped short, his breath catching painfully at the sight of his unconscious lover, wrists held over his head, emphasizing the long, lithe lines of his torso, hard, sleek legs spread wide, flat stomach rising and falling gently, eyes closed, lips twitching... Jim threw a pillow at him.
"I know you're not asleep—give it up, Spock, and look at me." He was studiously ignored; mastering the betraying smile Spock lay motionless, body under complete control. Jim stripped off his shorts, eager to take up this blatant provocation.
Crossing to the small cooling unit in the corner, the Captain removed a jar of cream from its recesses. Stroking his swollen cock with it, he sighed blissfully at the icy touch... that'll make you open your eyes, I bet—and went back to bed.
He mounted Spock slowly, leaning heavily on his own arms, rigid cock probing. He paused, accustomed to wait for his companion's hips to arch upwards, accomodating him, but Spock lay so still he might have been drugged. Slightly piqued at this continuing lack of cooperation—this was serious business now, he was really horny—Jim lowered his body, pushed harder, to be met by a slight but definite withdrawal. Again his target was effectively moved out of reach. He sighed. "Why are you making this so hard?" Spock didn't open his eyes, but he smiled again faintly. "You are asking me that?"
Determined to succeed this time, Jim slid an arm under Spock's waist, yanking, forcing the Vulcan's body up against his bondmate's now painfully erect organ. Gripping it firmly with his free hand, he guided it directly to the source of the relief he craved. But even as he began his entrance, while the pirate chieftain rejoiced in his conquest, the lover in him became aware that Spock was tense, not ready, and that the harshness of his own embrace was pulling the slim body too tightly against the bonds, straining muscles and bruising flesh. At the same moment Spock gasped.
"Jim...you are hurting me." Abashed, he stopped. Feeling guilty, he lowered Spock to the bed again and lengthened the ropes a little, giving him enough slack to relax and get comfortable. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to do that. You know you're not making it easy for me to get laid, though, don't you?"
Spock smiled at him. "I was under the impression that such was your desire."
"Well, yes—within reason."
"I am being quite reasonable. It is you who are inconsistent in your demands."
Oh you will definitely pay for this... He sat back, considering, studying his victim's position. Spock had turned his face away, pretending indifference, but he was watching Jim sideways under his eyelashes. Jim grinned at him, thinking—you're enjoying this as much as I am, and what's more, you know it. Inspiration came, and he laughed, delighted with the simplicity of his solution. Picking out two fat pillows and again wrapping an arm around Spock's waist, he lifted, careful this time not to cause pain, .and slipped the pillows under his ass. "There. Now I can see what I'm doing. "
"I congratulate you on your ingenuity." Spock could feel himself blushing. Jim tweaked his nose playfully and became occupied with reapplying the cream to his cock. Shutting his eyes, the Vulcan waited, feeling the bed shift and creak under Kirk's weight. Again Kirk knelt, and this time the tip of his cock slid with ease into the hot, tight entrance. He pressed steadily, gently, suppressing the nearly unendurable urge to drive his cock all the way in with one ruthless thrust. Slowly, waiting for the muscles to relax before moving further in, inch by very gradual inch, until his patience was rewarded and his organ was completely buried within sweet, burning flesh.
Then, thankfully, he began to pump, still slow at first but rapidly increasing in force. Spock shuddered, and Jim let himself down, cradled the silky head on his arms. His grin was triumphant.
"You like this, don't you? Admit it."
"Never," Kirk informed him, "happens to be a very long time." He gave a piratic leer. "Soon, me proud beauty, I'll have you..."
Spock began shaking with laughter. "What did you call me?"
He had to laugh himself, despite the building pressure in his balls. "You heard me. I said... oh God, I give up." Spock's mirth was contagious and Jim was still laughing when he came. His climax during their mutual hilarity seemed the best joke of all, and when the last delicious pulsation had released him he fell off Spock and lay beside him, tears running down his. face. "Oh, my God," he repeated. "You are too much." They were both giggling. "I can't believe you started laughing right in the middle of one of my best fucks."
"It was you who made that absurd statement."
"For your information, I have heard that so-called absurd statement in every pirate movie I ever saw." He was trying his best to sound insulted but it wasn't coming off well. It was so seldom that he got to hear the joyous sound of Spock's laughter that he couldn't begrudge this occasion.
"Aren't you at least going to thank me for the compliment?"
"Would that not be rather incongruous coming from an unwilling victim?"
"True." Jim rolled onto his side concentrating on the lean form next to him. "But don't you think," he snaked his hand underneath the pillows "that it'll be more incongruous when the 'unwilling victim’”—pullng the top pillow out from under Spock's ass, leaving only one between his searching fingers and that vulnerable flesh—"begins begging the masterful pirate for an orgasm?"
Spock didn't even bother to argue. He was well aware of what Jim's touch could do to his nervous system and by now was aching for the sweet torment to begin. "I will beg you now, if you wish."
"Touch me," Spock whispered. "Please...just touch me."
Jim's hand slid down Spock's stomach, began caressing the heavy balls. He did that for a long time, squeezing them, rolling them between his fingers, watching the Vulcan's cock harden, stiffen and rise. Spock moved down a little in a vain attempt to get Jim's fingers to touch his cock. Instead his captor released the balls he'd been holding, and began idly stroking the soft, hot skin of Spock's inner thighs. He stopped for just long enough to yank the remaining pillow out from under Spock's ass, bringing it down to meet his groping, squeezing fingers, receiving a tangible jolt of passion through their bond in return.
Spock was moaning deep in his throat, pulling uselessly against the chains, and quivering under those skillful caresses. Jim leaned over, delivered a wet, sucking kiss to his ear. "I'm going to let you off the hook now," he murmured, alternating the words with quick licks and nibbles, "in spite of the way you've been acting. Do you want to know why?" Spock nodded. "Because you're so incredibly beautiful," he stroked Spock's face, filled with tenderness, "and so sweet, and I love you so much..." He kissed the warm lips, muffling Spock's reply, and turned, recapturing the Vulcan's balls and cradling them cozily. The index finger of his other hand continued probing at Spock's anus, and he descended on Spock's cock with abandon, licking it, kissing it allover, sucking fiercely. Finally he abandoned everything else to the sucking, wrapping both arms around Spock's hips, gathering them in close, the whole cock in his mouth and down his throat now, his nostrils filled with Spock's intoxicating scent, so different from anyone else he had ever been near. Spock cried out sharply, held nearly immobile by that powerful grip, clinging to his bonds, feeling the whole of himself dissolving away into Jim's cool mouth. A second spasm shook him, more intense than the first, then a third, much milder, and a fourth. One last, barely noticeable tremor, then, finally, he was still.
Immediately Jim got up, and imagined a large key, made all of rubies and shaped like a heart.
When it appeared he used it to unlock all four manacles. Spock started to bring his arms down by his sides, but Jim stopped him. "Wait. Your muscles are bound to be stiff and if you move too fast they might cramp. Let me fix you up first." He began the massage at Spock's fingers, worked his way down to shoulders, then to chest, stomach, groin, thighs, concentrated on the long legs for nearly half an hour, rubbed slender Vulcan feet, and stretched out flat on the bed. "Did you like my game?"
Spock came into his arms contentedly. "Is it over? You need not stop on my behalf."
"Well... I've been thinking how much fun it would be to show you all around the ship, and go swimming over the side, and stuff..."
"All maneuvers which would be difficult for me to carry out while chained to a bed. I agree. Jim—I assume you have lavatory facilities somewhere near your cabin?" Jim sat up straight. "Holy shit. I never once thought of how you would... I guess it's a good thing I decided to let you up, isn't it? Right through that door."
"Thank you," Spock said, and made his exit with great dignity. Chuckling, Jim watched him go.
The best part was that they still had a solid week of R&R ahead of them. After a couple of days on the water he would be in the mood for something different.
When Spock emerged from the bathroom, Jim, back propped against the headboard, was ticking things off on his fingers, thinking aloud. "You could buy me off an auction block on some exotic planet..."
"Why would I need to do that?"
"For fun, Spock, for fun. And we would make a beach... with turquoise sand and green water and a red sky, and spread rose blossoms allover the sand for a bed..."
"Mmnm," Spock agreed from where he had settled, head pillowed in Jim's lap, cool Human fingers stroking his cheeks, his hair.
"Then we could play cowboys. I could be the new hombre that the townfolk appoint as marshall because a gang of desperadoes is terrorizing the place and you could be...ah, you could be..." He stopped. Spock's eyes had closed, the straight black lashes making delicate tracings on the pale skin above his cheekbones. Jim smoothed the sleek dark hair, marvelling anew at the absolute trust Spock had given him. He brushed the Vulcan's face softly, smilingly.
Spock made an indistinguishable sound and turned, one arm draped over Jim's knees, the other circling his waist, face buried in his stomach. Jim found himself yawning, and nudged his bondmate slightly.
"Hey, don't get too fond of that position, I'm coming down." Obligingly, Spock loosened his arms and propped himself up on an elbow while Jim arranged himself on the pillows. Comfortable, he drew Spock down again, tickling him just for the hell of it. They scuffled half-heartedly for a few minutes, winding up in their usual position—Jim on his back, taking twice his share of the mattress, Spock curled up against him, head resting on Jim's shoulder.
"When we wake up," Jim said happily, "I'm going to make you walk the plank."
"Or I will make you," Spock returned, and Jim laughed a little.
"That sounds like more fun. Think you could throw me in."
"I will right now, if you do not cease this conversation and let me sleep."
Do I feel like getting all wet? No. "Okay, grouch, I'll shut up." He yawned again and was suddenly, deeply asleep.
Spock relaxed, totally replete with sensory gratification. Jim was warm and hard against him, the ship rocked, creaking hypnotically, the salt breeze was cool and fresh, Jim's skin smelled sweet, the bed was soft, Jim's skin smelled very sweet... his thoughts paused, a smile curving the corners of his mouth, lingering there long after sleep had drawn him into its welcoming depths.