Work Text:
It's already two hours into his shift, and Jim has to admit that he's in trouble. It's not the kind of trouble that threatens his ship, nor is it the kind of trouble that threatens his position on the ship. At least, he hopes it won't. The trouble is that, Spock is gorgeous bent over his scanner like that. Jim tries to let his eyes roam casually around the bridge as he usually does, but they seem to be drawn to that one particular spot; Spock’s ass. He can see the muscles shift, as Spock adjusts his position. All Jim has been able to think about is that, and the kiss Spock gave him in the turbo lift before their shift started. It’s been pleasant to discover for himself that Spock really does like kissing, as much as Uhura said he did; Vulcan kisses, human kisses, and probably a lot of other types of kisses. But he usually likes them brief, and that is, of course, okay with Jim, as long as they occasionally do manage a proper make-out session. And they do, but not as often as Jim would have liked. There is, of course the very real possibility that they wouldn't be doing much else, if Jim got his way. Now that he’s allowed to touch, he can't get enough. There are also a lot of words Jim would like to say, but it's too early for "I love you's", and endearments are not really on the table with Spock. Jim is fine with that because it's not like Spock is his boyfriend. At least not according to Spock, who raises an eyebrow every time Jim says the word, and corrects him;
"The proper term is T'hy'la."
Jim has time, though; Spock will come around to being his “boyfriend," eventually, at least by the time, the proper term is going to be “husband" instead. but perhaps Jim is getting a bit ahead of himself. The haven’t even had a proper conversation about their relationship yet, but Jim has had time to formulate some ground rules, which basically consists of them having a couple of designated sex nights, and not kissing anywhere but in their quarters. Otherwise, their relationship will be way too big of a distraction to be viable under the restrictions their jobs put on them. They haven't actually done it yet; had sex, that is. So designated sex nights is a bit premature, but it’s good to be prepared, isn’t it? What is fine, is not having sex. They are only a month in after all, and Jim Kirk is capable of waiting. That is what he keeps telling himself, even if his libido doesn't agree, and tells him that his relationships usually don’t last long enough for designated sex nights. Had it been anyone else than Spock, Jim would have flirted, and flattered his way into their bed by now, but Spock is damn near impervious to both. Most Vulcans are like that, which is what makes them seem almost robotic at times. But Jim knows they aren't; Vulcans are just as emotional as any other species. They just learn to control, and suppress their emotions from such an early age, and to such an extent, that Pon Farr might be the only reason why they still manage to procreate at all. Spock is about as Vulcan as they come; tightly wound, or he was like that, but he has loosened up considerably in the time Jim has known him. In the past month Spock has done that more than Jim had ever thought possible but he wants to see what else lurks further under Spock’s remaining controls. He's aware that he's playing with fire; Spock is much stronger than he is, and if provoked capable of killing him as easily as snapping a twig. But he can't help it. Jim loves everything Spock is, and always will, even when the differences between them gets frustrating. Even when he knows there are reasons why Spock holds back. He still wants to see it all. Jim realizes he's staring again, and Spock must too because he turns his head. Their eyes meet. Jim smiles at him, and dark eyes grows soft, and there's a faint hint of a smile. It's a miracle Jim doesn't get up, march over there, and kiss him senseless. Instead he winks at the half-Vulcan, and watches with satisfaction as a pair of pointed ears go ever so slightly green at the tips. A soft voice behind Jim breaks the spell.
"Captain?"
He gets up, and approaches his communications officer. She is smiling that small, amused, fond smile that means, the she has both seen and approves of what is going on between her ex-boyfriend, and her Captain.
”Yes, Lt?" Jim asks, pretending not to have noticed.
The changes to his and Spock's relationship are an open secret among his senior crew, but he doesn't want to risk the knowledge spreading outside the Enterprise just yet. Jim's prowess with charming women has proved to be very useful, and certain Starfleet admirals are unlikely to approve of the arrangement.
"It's Admiral Komack, sir,"
Jim barely keeps himself from groaning. Yes, people like Komack, are the exact type of commanding officer who doesn't approve of "fraternization" no matter how much it raises morale.
"And what does the Admiral want, Lt?
Jim is unable to keep a slight hint of distain out of his voice. Uhura looks slightly apologetic, as she continues, "new orders, sir."
Jim takes a very deep breath, and looks up at the ceiling for a moment.
"Ok," he says, letting his breath out slowly.
Spock comes over to stand by him. Close enough for Jim to feel his heat. It soothing and thrilling at the same time.
"Put him through to the briefing room, miss Uhura. Mr Chekov, you have the con. If something happens, call mr Scott. This might take a while."
The last part is spoken as the turbo lift doors slides shut.
"Captain, the resentment you harbor against Admiral Komack is not justified. As he was, and remains ignorant of Pon Farr, he was therefore also ignorant of the consequences of denying our request to divert to New Vulcan. He was simply performing his duty."
"You could have died, and where would that have left Starfleet?”
There's a slight hint of annoyance on Spock's face, but he doesn’t point out that it had been Jim’s life that ended up being at stake. Instead he puts his arms around Jim.
”I did not," he says before gently coaxing Jim's mouth open, in a kiss that is much deeper, and much more erotic than usual.
It ends too soon, but the rest of the short turbolift ride is spent kissing. Jim wishes they could go somewhere private, but putting something unpleasant off, won't make it go away. Spock seizes his arm as they are about to enter the briefing room.
"Jim, I want you to give me your word, that you will not antagonize the Admiral, like you did at Altair?" He says quietly, but with such a note of command in his voice, Jim is taken aback.
Spock has never spoken to him like that in a long time, and Jim Kirk, the Captain doesn't appreciate it.
“Komack antagonized me, and don’t give me orders, Commander,” Jim snaps.
Spock straightens up immediately, and lets go.
"My apologies, Sir"
The transformation from lover to soldier is instantaneous, and complete. He walks past Jim as stiffly as he used to, when Jim first met him. Despite the sudden chill between them, Spock still takes a seat right next to him.
The conference call starts out bad, and only gets worse. Jim is convinced the Admiral has it in for him. Komack has just diverted the Enterprise, which means that the shore leave scheduled months ago has been cancelled.
"Your crew should be able to get sufficient R and R on the way."
"My crew needs fresh air, non reconstituted foods…” Jim protests.
The older man’s lips settle in to a stiff line of disapproval.
“That’s an order, Kirk,” he says coldly.
The words, "well, you can stick your orders up your ass," are just on the tip of Jim's tongue. It would be so satisfying to simply let them roll off it, just to see the outrage on the admirals face. It would of course, also be an unmitigated disaster, but Jim is beyond caring at this point. He lets his lips form the "w," but then Spock’s hand is on his thigh. Not only that, but it's clearly not an accident. Spock's thumb is rubbing small circles into the musculature just above the knee. And it’s the most distracting thing that has ever happened to him. From the screen Komack huffs impatiently, bringing Jim's attention back on him; at least partially.
“Very well, sir," he finally manages.
The delay has made Komack scowl even more. He now looks grimmer than a Klingon with an impacted bowel. The two men size each other up for a while. Jim has faced more intimidating foes, but his normal, confident swagger is hard to pull off with Spock's hand now on his upper thigh, kneading the tense, coiled muscles he finds there. It feels...nice. No, it feels amazing, but Jim is sure Komack wouldn't be amused if he found out that Spock is molesting his Captain right under his nose. But Jim Kirk wouldn't have made it this far, if he couldn't bluff his way out of tight spots. He can do this, even if Spock were to decide to take this further than a little thigh stroking. Remaining still will be a challenge but Jim loves those. In fact, he lives for them. He adjusts his seat, spreading his legs a little to give the questing hand better access. He is not disappointed. The hand slides higher and inwards.
"And another thing, Kirk," Komack begins. His face is a cold mask of disapproval, that gets progressively colder as he speaks.
"The Enterprise has been chosen to escort federation delegates to Babel, for the counsel on the Coridon concern."
Jim almost rolls his eyes. Great, that means a ship full of people with conflicting interests, all trying to one up each other. Spock’s hand slides higher and further in between his legs. It better not start rubbing his cock. No, it better start doing exactly that. It does. Jim has to bite his lip to stifle a moan. Komack apparently takes it as a repressed yawn, and his voice is almost glacial when he next speaks.
“Do I bore you, Kirk?”
“No, Sir,” Jim says, “not at all.”
He flashes the Admiral his best smile, and watches the older mans nostrils flare for a moment. Spock’s fingers are trying to slip past the waist band of his pants, but give up when he finds it too tight, and settles for rubbing him through them instead. Jim wishes he was wearing his actual size, and not a size too small, but it hardly matters at this point. Spock is going to make him come within the next 5 minutes, if he continues what he's doing. And it certainly doesn't seem like Spock has any intention of stopping. Komack drones on and on, and Jim sincerely hopes he's nodding at the appropriate moments because his balls are tightening, and it's hard to think of anything else. Spock is so going to pay for this; taking liberties with his Captain like that. But he'd better not stop, or..
Komack clears his throat loudly, and Jim realizes he's been asked a question, but he has no idea about what. He manages a stammered "sorry," but not much else. A moan pushes through his control. It's very fortunate that it sounds like a moan of intense pain, and not the opposite.
"Are you alright Captain?" Komack asks.
The anger has been replaced by concern. Somehow Jim manages to feel guilty about that, even while the first wave of the orgasm hits him. It's only years of carefully honed reflexes that allows him to fake doubling over in pain. The Admiral makes a startled sound, and Spock lets go of his jerking cock and grips his shoulders instead as Jim haunches over the table, breathing hard. There’s a wet patch spreading over the crotch of his pants, and he can hear Spock ending the call, with a promise to Komack of taking him straight to sickbay.
“Spock, what the fuck do you think you were doing, touching me like that in front of Komack?” he says when he regains his breath. He looks at Spock, and wonders if he looks as disheveled as he feels. Spock almost looks reproachfully back at him .
“You enjoyed it,” Spock says in a tone that says that he very much knows Jim did.
“For crying out loud,” Jim begins.
Spock crosses his arms, and looks away, and Jim almost starts laughing. Who knew Vulcans could pout?
"That's not the point, Spock. I hardly have to explain to you, of all people, that what you did was inappropriate."
Jim gestures at his crotch. Spock’s eyes flickers down to the telltale wet spot. His ears, and cheeks go green; far greener than Jim has ever seen them go before.
“I apologize, it was not my intention for you to reach climax, it was only my intention to distract you from your animosity against the Admiral, and to perhaps teach you a lesson in how to control your emotions," he says quietly, as he discretely sniffs his fingers, causing his nostrils to flare.
“You did very well,” Spock begins to elaborate,” but I could however not bring myself to stop my ministrations, once I had realized how you would react to my touch."
There is something almost savagely triumphant in the way he says "my," and Jim wonders what has made Spock act this way. He hopes it’s not some vestiges of Pon Farr, or some kind of pollen.
“Do not concern yourself, Jim, I am functioning at full mental capacity,” Spock says, as if he’s read his mind.
Then Jim reminds himself that his Vulcan boyfriend, being a touch telepath probably has done exactly that, and also did so during their little public hand job session. Jim feels slightly unsettled by that.
“Hey, reading my mind is unfair,” he hisses under his breath.
The corners of Spock’s mouth lifts slightly.
“As I am familiar with your thought patterns, I can easily predict what you are thinking without resorting to telepathy,” he says.
“But you still do it, don’t you?”
Spock apparently has no answer for that, beyond a slightly guilty look.
Jim stands up, and looks down at the front of his pants. There is absolutely no mistaking that stain for anything else than exactly what it is. Great.
"Mr Spock. I need to change my pants, and you can help me."
Spock raises an eyebrow, but doesn't make any further comments about how illogical the request is.
"Well, it's your fault," Jim says, as he gathers up Spock's Padd, and places it in front of his crotch as he leaves.
It's not a long trip to his quarters, and Spock starts kissing him again as soon as they are inside. He quickly has Jim pressed against the door.
“Spock, he protests, “what’s gotten in to you?”
He feels like he already knows the answer when Spock hisses it against his ear, “You. You make me want to lose control.”
He lets go of Jim and bends over the table.
“Take me, before I take you.”
For a moment Jim hesitates. Spock casts an impatient glance back at him. Never losing eye contact he shoves his pants, and briefs down. Jim's cock is rock hard in an instance. He approaches slowly until he's standing behind Spock, and opens his fly. Relief floods through him as if, he has already come again. He steps closer, caressing the soft, pale skin. The musculature is tense under his fingers. Carefully he pries the tight buttocks apart to massage the tight ring of muscle, that looks like any other asshole Jim has ever seen. Seems like that design truly is universal, Jim thinks, but it does look tempting none the less. Especially because it's Spock's, and he's about to fuck it. With his other hand, he reaches into his pocket, and finds his emergency supplies he always keeps there. Spock's anus doesn't give way at the first attempt of Jim pressing a finger inside him. Jim soothes, and coaxes, until eventually Spock opens up to his fingers. Jim spends a long while preparing him. Despite this, and the copious amount of lube, Spock makes a whimpering noise, and tenses up, when Jim pushes inside. He's clenched so tight around Jim, it’s a miracle if he hasn't cut off the blood circulation.
"You, ok?" Jim asks, and gets ready to pull out again.
It takes a little while before Spock answers, and when he does Jim is almost startled by the strangled, breathless quality to it. He sounds like he’s just been stabbed.
"Your girth is greater than I anticipated. Please allow me a moment to adjust before you proceed."
But Jim is having none of it; sex is supposed to be pleasurable.
"Spock, sweetheart, you don't like this at all, do you?" He asks, already pulling out.
He steps back a little. Spock uncurls, and turns around to face him. Jim gives him a hug, and whispers how sorry he is into his ear.
"My Vulcan nature intensely dislikes being dominated, even by you," Spock says quietly.
“I have felt your desire for me many times this past month, and I concluded the only way I could accommodate them without hurting you, was to let you be in control. I was mistaken; he thought of you doing that, made me lose mine”
He looks almost crestfallen, but Jim kisses the look off of his face.
“Spock, I want you exactly as you are,” Jim thinks, and when they pull back from the kiss, Spock is actually smiling. His cock is getting hard again, and so is Jim's.
"I think I might be able to enjoy the penetration if I was in control of it."
Jim doesn't quite know how that would work, but he's willing to find out.
"Come," Jim says, gently holding out a hand.
Spock takes it and allows himself to be lead over to the bunk. Jim lets go of him and they undress. Spock reaches for Jim, and they kiss desperately. Their hands roam everywhere. Eventually Jim ends up on his back, with Spock climbing on top of him. There is a very determined look on his face as he aligns his hole with Jim's cock. He bears down, and ever so slowly the head slips inside him. If Jim couldn't see how hard Spock is, he would have thought the look on his face was agony. It might still be. Spock catches his concerned look, and bends down to kiss him. He presses his fingers to Jim’s meld points, and it doesn’t take long for Jim to be reassured. Spock sinks further down, sheathing Jim completely. For a moment he just sits there, letting his body adjust. Jim can feel the tight muscles unclench around him. Then he starts moving, fucking himself on Jim. It's the hottest thing Jim has ever seen. He reaches out, and grabs the thin hips, as he starts to thrust upwards. Their movements are frantic, chaotic, and yet in perfect sync with each other. Spock is making noises Jim didn't think Vulcans could make. He practically roars when Jim starts stroking his cock. It doesn't take many strokes before Spock is coming, and then Jim is over the edge too. Spock collapses on top of him, and lies shaking in his arms for what seems like ages.
“Jim, I do not wish to have designated sex nights,” he mutters against Jim’s skin.
Jim sighs, “fine, then we just have to have sex every night, until we get sick of it.”
He can feel his boyfriend’s eyebrow raise.
“I predict the odds of that happening…” Spock begins.
Jim cuts him off with a brief kiss. He still has a hard time fathoming what the hell just happened. He's relatively certain he'd rather not have blown his load in his pants like a teenager in front of Komack, but if he has managed to shift the Admiral's attitude toward him from hostile to concerned, he might just be able to use it to his advantage at a later date. At least, he sincerely hopes, the Admiral is as oblivious as he seemed. Otherwise, he really will be in trouble.