Star Trek Porn!
Title: Follow the Leader
Author: baehj2915
Pairing: K/S, bottom Kirk
Rating: NC-17, straight up sex, yo.
Disclaimer: Know nothing, own nothing, I don’t mean anything by this, etc., etc. ST XI.
Summary/Warnings: Spock POV. Jim isn't very good at following directions, but Spock really likes that anyway.
It was not something I particularly comfortable with.
“I just don’t wanna make any decisions,” He affirmed. Then smiled his reckless, but infuriatingly winsome, half-smile. “You can do whatever you want.”
He seemed to think that was enticing. I’d adjusted, I believed, to Human sexual activities. By then, I’d had many more Human sexual partners than Vulcan partners. When I thought I’d become accustomed to the liberties they take with each other’s bodies, Jim offered me complete control of his.
It was disconcerting.
I knew Jim had a short past filled with copious sexual “conquests.” The very fact he used that word told me he thought of union in a very different way from me. But it was almost statistically impossible for the amount of pointless and injudicious couplings he’d participated in with strangers for that population to not contain a reprobate or two. I was worried who might have taken advantage of his willingness and earnest sexual curiosity.
I told him this.
He gave me an unimpressed frown. “I’ve never been abused, Spock. And my choices may have been “injudicious,” but I was never stupid enough to allow someone I didn’t trust that much control with my body.”
I would have argued that any sexual activity with a person met in a bar for one evening was already crossing that line, but I didn’t wish to persecute him. I knew, for the most part, Jim was not terribly proud of his past. With anyone else he could be brash and loud and dishonest, but no longer could he use that façade about certain issues-his family and former sex life, namely-with me.
“I am not excited by the prospect of controlling you, Jim. Even if only for an evening.”
That was a distasteful fetish. I enjoyed I good deal of the sexual congress I had had with Humans specifically because they were willful, unpredictable, wanton and absorbed in and with the body. That attitude had its downsides of course. Humans rarely, if ever, asked permission for their actions during coitus after the initial consent. Sometimes their lack of planning and lack of respect for personal space was frustrating. However, it was pleasing to me, by and large. I had and would consent to restraints on me, because they were a pretense. I was fully capable of removing myself from the manner of bonds Humans used during coitus if actions I found dissatisfying arose.
Putting Jim in that situation, with me or anyone who might’ve been in the past, was extremely unpalatable.
I told him that, as well.
Jim smiled softly and moved from the bed to the chair I was sitting on. He slid his legs over mine, under the armrests, so he was straddling me. His arms encircled my shoulders and his hands began stroking my hair. Without prompting, I put my hands behind him, equal parts squeezing him and supporting his back.
He only did this when he was particularly pleased with me. In this and other ways, Jim would wordlessly offer his body to me as a sort of reward for something he found charming. Another thing he seemed to think was pleasing. And, physically, it was. Jim had a very pleasant body. But a little unnerving, psychologically.
However, that did not stop me from pressing my fingers into his back, grazing over nerve points. It did not stop me from pressing my lips onto the skin just below his collarbone. And just above. And across his trapezius. And under his jaw.
“Fine,” he said, his voice a little breathy already. “You don’t have to tie me up. I just want you to make the decisions. I just want a decision-free night.”
That desire I could understand. A small release from the Captaincy.
“I can oblige that request without disrespecting your body or harming you.”
“I’m not gonna argue with you, but is it disrespectful when I ask you to do it?”
“Yes. And you are arguing,” I said and pulled his lips onto mine to cease him from arguing further.
When the night of Jim’s subordination arrived, I found myself nervous.
It wasn’t the actions I was dubious about. I could physically control him if the need be, though I didn’t wish to do that. It was the pretense of the event. Jim was capable of fully engaged, athletic sexual congress. He liked to test his strength and endurance against mine at times. But his desire to be completely controlled or truly submissive was rare. Knowing he was capable of otherwise ruined the affectation for me. I was not capable of pretending as Jim was. And it was only confusing when he attempted to play roles during our times of sexual intimacy.
Our physical relationship was so advantageous because it couldn’t precisely be said that our couplings were lead or followed by one particular individual. At times, Jim was more dominant. At times, I was. But most engagements were characterized by, ironically, frictionless understanding. I could not be so pleased by anything less equal. However, due to Jim’s enhanced libido and larger well of experience, he occasionally had a request for a particular role or sex act.
It was only right of me to oblige him for those reasons.
When I arrived in his room, Jim was sitting on his bed, smiling, his feet bouncing on the ground in anticipation. He got to his feet eagerly, about to speak.
“Remain seated,” I commanded, and then removed my boots and outer shirt.
My intention was to give him many restrictions to test his impatient nature; hopefully forcing him to realize that complete subordination was not something he desired. He could still be physically submissive, if that was what he desired, and engaged otherwise. It was my hypothesis he would tire of my commands before coitus was over and rebel against his desire for me to control him.
I did not really want to do this again.
I walked over to his desk chair and sat in it, appraising him for some time. His eyes began to shift expectantly. I could feel the air around him fill with tension. His fingers were tapping across his thighs.
“Listen,” he said, interrupting the silence. “Not that you’re not sexy, when you’re all deliberate and watching, like a sexy hawk or something, but I’m really kinda-“
“I do not wish you to speak.”
That instruction may not have been for his benefit alone.
I stood up abruptly, catching his full attention. “Be divested of your clothing, excepting your underwear, by the time I return.”
The luxuriant smile returned to his face as I left for the bathroom. In there I set the lights to thirty-five percent and removed my ocular protection lenses. Also, my socks. I washed my hands. Then after a moment of hesitation, I turned the room temperature to something suitable for me. It would soon become slightly uncomfortable for Jim. Adding the physical exertion of coitus, it would not take long for Jim to find it exasperating. I hoped it would speed my hypothesis into action.
When I returned, Jim was sitting in the same position, naked, but for his dark green tight-fitting underwear. His outerwear was strewn in front of his feet.
“Put your clothing in the proper receptacle.”
He scowled, but did it. “If I have to clean my room before-“
“Silence.”
He frowned for a second, but a playful smile broke through his disappointment. He stood by the bed, waiting.
“Undress me.”
He walked over slowly and moved to unbuckle my belt.
“Shirt first,” I corrected.
He collected the hem at the waist and pushed up until my shoulders, his fingertips skimming over my torso as he did. I facilitated him by lifting my arms. His hands moved to my back, scraping over my shoulder blades and down over my arms. He threw the shirt on his table.
“You may remove my pants now.”
After he slipped the belt out of his fastener, I amended, “Situate yourself on your knees first.”
He grinned, dropping to his knees, pulling my belt from its loops with an efficient tug.
“You know, I know you love-“
I placed my hand under his jaw, letting two fingers graze his adam’s apple and my thumb sweep across his lips. His beautiful lips that, more often than not, emitted tortured language and hot, enticing panting breaths. They naturally parted and sucked in my thumb, past his teeth. My hand shifted to push in farther. His warm, lithe tongue, the soft wetness of his mouth, the wanting, nibbling of his teeth, all tearing through the sensitive nerve endings of my thumb, echoing to my brain-I pulled my hand away abruptly.
“You will obey my instructions. No speaking, unless I ask you to. You may only pant, moan, whine, grunt… Beseech me with your hands, if you must. Do you understand?”
He bit his lower lip and his face fell into my crotch. He moaned enthusiastically, open-mouthed against my thigh, and nodded. The nuzzling and teeth-grazing elicited a reaction from my phallus. He mouthed over the area, his teeth audible when they ran over my zipper. I almost leaned into his machinations.
“Remove my pants,” I ordered.
He leaned back, his fingers unbuttoning and unzipping. I held onto his shoulders when I stepped out of the sleeves of my pants. I immediately kneeled to the floor with him and pushed him to his back, overcome with the desire to touch him. I didn’t know if he wanted to be disconnected from me-it was the impression I maintained from his desire to be restrained-but I required touch to achieve arousal. I needed to feel the flames of his emotions slipping out of the pores of his skin.
“Hook your legs around my waist,” I instructed.
He complied as I folded him under me. I pressed myself against him, rubbing my phallus against his spread gluteus muscles, against the grain of the cotton weave. I sunk my tongue into his mouth, writhing against his in this consistently bizarre, yet pleasing style of Human kissing, known as French. His erection was strengthening, trapped between my abdomen and his. His heels pressed into the base of my spine as he tried to hitch his knees higher up my sides.
He was motivating me toward penetration.
My mouth was wet with his saliva. I pressed my lips to the side of his face, inching closer to his neck. His fingers flitted over the tips of my pinna. His full lips mouthed wet, sucking pressure on the indent of my clavicle. He moaned heavily. My stomach dropped.
I pressed my thumb against his stretched adductor tendon, high inside the crook of his thigh, causing him to squeeze my waist tighter with a gasp. I ground my hips firmly against him, feeling the blood press hard in my testicles.
He watched me closely, licked his lips tentatively. He was waiting for me to speak. I pushed my hand further down to his knee and unhooked his legs from me. I pushed off of him, but pulled him with me by his forearm. He instinctively leaned toward me, attempting to wrap his arms around me again. I stopped him.
“We will move to the bed now. You will perform fellatio on me.”
He followed me obediently.
I was still disconcerted by the lack of his consent or affirmation. And not knowing his level of enjoyment fully, his skin was flushed with a confused frenzy of emotions. I wished to know what he desired, other than to be led. But I did enjoy the added structure of knowing exactly what was going to happen in the course of our coupling. That was usually noticeably absent.
I sat on the edge of the bed. And he settled on his knees in front of me.
“Put your arms around me.”
He grinned. There was a shine on his face from the heat of room.
He settled his arms over my thighs and squeezed tightly around me. He eased his mouth over the tip of my phallus and slowly let it sink further into his mouth, pushing up and relenting with his tongue. Compressing with the sides of this cheeks, and letting go. Bringing me in around the roof of his mouth and against the tops of his teeth. I shuddered at the practiced suction.
Far too soon, the warm depths of his vigorous sucking, the gentle molding of his lips around me, the strained breathing into my pubic hair, and the grip of his fingers on my sides brought me to plateau. The electric impulses vibrating from my brain to my genitals created such a frenzy, as to dull all other senses.
My fingers gripped more tightly in his hair. My eyes closed.
“I… am about to ejaculate,” I said through a moan. “Swallow it.”
Seconds later my mind was awash in pleasant numbness. My body shook from the swift absence of tension. Jim was actively swallowing around my penis. Some of the ejaculate escaped from his lips, rolling back onto me.
There were few differences between Human and Vulcan sexual organs. The differences were mostly in capacity and autonomic stimuli. On average, I produced approximately thirty-two percent more ejaculate. I could will the pressure of blood flow in my body to refrain from or sustain an erection, depending on the circumstances.
Sustaining my luteinizing and follicle stimulating hormones and restricting my blood vessels was my primary objective at that moment in order to continue to anal penetration.
I placed my hand on the side of his face, urging him to follow it through a tactile connection. My voice was low and heavy with desire, so I always tried to refrain from showing it. He stood and leaned into my arms. His phallus was straining against his underwear, pushing into my abdomen. I rolled him onto his back, crawling on top of him.
I wiped my thumb over his lower lip, still wet with a trace of semen. After a moment of softness, my penis was returning to turgidity again. With the practice I’d gained from my sexual partnership with Jim, I’d found it easier and easier to re-release my gonadotrophic hormones after recent stimulation. Of course, the process was never hindered by Jim’s body. At that moment his slack mouth and taut stomach, his own hormone levels building the blood pressure in his testicles higher.
He rubbed up against me with an anguished groan. His hands traveled rapidly over my sides imploringly and hesitated over the waistband of his underwear, then back to me. He was seething frustration and desire. He squeezed his thighs around me again.
I pushed myself by my elbow to look over him. I laid fingers over his pectoral muscles. They were wider and protruded more than mine. His abdomen was similarly developed, leaving a curved flatness that my fingers traveled over. I kissed the surface of his arms and neck as well.
He groaned loudly. I could see his tongue baited in his open mouth. His eyes were communicating need. I placed my kissing fingers on his lower lip, which he immediately took advantage of. He grabbed a hold of my hand with both of his and plunged those two fingers into his mouth, knuckled deep. He pulled my fingers back out sucking the length down, scraping his teeth over the digits as they exited. He kneaded my palm with his thumbs, taking in my fingers and pulling them out. Licking between them, over the fingertips. He tightened his legs around my waist and began thrusting up against my hips.
I suppose I could’ve stopped him from disobeying his instructions, but the pull of his mouth, the look of his swollen, round lips enveloping my phalanges, was too enjoyable to resist. I felt like melting into the warmth of his mouth, resting my head on his chest. I was content to stay there for a long while until he bit down slightly to bring my attention back to him.
I pulled my fingers out of his grasp and kissed him with my lips, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead.
I ground against his rocking hips, almost growling at the textile resistance. I pushed myself up, but was too reluctant to remove myself from the warmth of his body. I ripped the front seams of the underwear open, releasing his erection to the open air.
Jim pushed himself up, his eyes bright and wide. He gaped at me with astonishment and wild desire. He choked over sounds
“Speak,” I implored.
“That was SO awesome! I-“
“Cease speaking.”
I leaned over far to take the lubricant out of his nightstand. I ripped open the other side of his waistband and pulled the torn fabric out from under him, discarding it over my shoulder. He let out a throaty laugh that shook his stomach. He was clearly pleased by that. I massaged the lubricant over my penis and took care to do the same with his rectum, pushing into the muscle, stretching it for entry.
Shortly after I entered him, as I suspected, Jim abandoned his pretense for the sexual engagement. He scratched at my back with his dull fingernails. He fell into the standard rambling he initiated during coitus. His heels pushed into my back. And he then slipped his hand between us and attempted to massage his own tumescent organ to fruition.
I pulled his hand away. I pushed his sweat-slicked knees to his chest, and then tucked my shoulders underneath them, shifting his center of weight down to his shoulders and upper back. He gasped heavily, letting his mouth hang open. His knitted brow had become unknit, and his eyes glazed over as my phallus re-entered him more deeply and faster.
There was no resistance in his legs as I thrust into him. He wrapped his fingers tight against the beams of the headboard, as I bore down on to him. We were slowly edging to the end of the bed. He pushed back against me.
“Oh god,” he groaned. “Oh fuck, Spock. Oh, fuck me. Christ… Fuck me harder. Oh, touch me!”
“You were not supposed to give orders.”
“Oh fuck, I couldn’t possibly fucking care anymore!” He spat, pushing harder against the headboard. “Please, touch me, god, shit. Christ! Touch me!”
His erection barely lasted against my hand, well before I was ready to reach climax. I was still deep inside him as his seminal fluid pooled and spread over his stomach. His whole body was beginning to give way, his muscles relaxing. He let go of the headboard entirely.
I pushed his knees down his chest again, pushing his entrance higher. He was completely pliant, but I believed for different reasons than before. He groaned, feeling the weight settling high on his shoulders, and no doubt, tired of having my still inside of him. I breathed in heavily and let the testosterone and gonadotrophins flood my bloodstream. With a higher hormone output, I was thrust into him more aggressively and faster.
I came again, with another wash of numbing nervous overload in my brain, pushing his knees hard into his chest. When I let go and disengaged from his anal canal, he let out a heavy breath of air, as though he’d been retaining it the entire time. His legs fell lax on either side o me. The ejaculate had dripped down to his chest, aided by his strange and continual removal of the hair there.
I reached over to the nightstand, where he kept napkins for such a mess, despite my body’s inclination to relax after seminal release. I wiped the fluid off his chest and stomach and discarded it in the trashcan. He looked up at me, sated and alluring. I retreated to his side, not bothering to clean myself.
He grinned openly, his blue eyes vibrant. In the relative dark, could more clearly see the flecks of white and gray than during the day.
He laughed fetchingly, “So that was fucking awesome when you broke my underwear to screw me. That could definitely happen again.”
“It should not surprise me, but you are not very adept at following orders.”
“Yeah, well, you would suck at domming.”
“I do not wish to control you or restrict your expressions.”
He kissed me. “I know. That’s the only reason why I asked you to.”
I shook my head. Incomprehensible.
:D
JLB
Author: baehj2915
Pairing: K/S, bottom Kirk
Rating: NC-17, straight up sex, yo.
Disclaimer: Know nothing, own nothing, I don’t mean anything by this, etc., etc. ST XI.
Summary/Warnings: Spock POV. Jim isn't very good at following directions, but Spock really likes that anyway.
It was not something I particularly comfortable with.
“I just don’t wanna make any decisions,” He affirmed. Then smiled his reckless, but infuriatingly winsome, half-smile. “You can do whatever you want.”
He seemed to think that was enticing. I’d adjusted, I believed, to Human sexual activities. By then, I’d had many more Human sexual partners than Vulcan partners. When I thought I’d become accustomed to the liberties they take with each other’s bodies, Jim offered me complete control of his.
It was disconcerting.
I knew Jim had a short past filled with copious sexual “conquests.” The very fact he used that word told me he thought of union in a very different way from me. But it was almost statistically impossible for the amount of pointless and injudicious couplings he’d participated in with strangers for that population to not contain a reprobate or two. I was worried who might have taken advantage of his willingness and earnest sexual curiosity.
I told him this.
He gave me an unimpressed frown. “I’ve never been abused, Spock. And my choices may have been “injudicious,” but I was never stupid enough to allow someone I didn’t trust that much control with my body.”
I would have argued that any sexual activity with a person met in a bar for one evening was already crossing that line, but I didn’t wish to persecute him. I knew, for the most part, Jim was not terribly proud of his past. With anyone else he could be brash and loud and dishonest, but no longer could he use that façade about certain issues-his family and former sex life, namely-with me.
“I am not excited by the prospect of controlling you, Jim. Even if only for an evening.”
That was a distasteful fetish. I enjoyed I good deal of the sexual congress I had had with Humans specifically because they were willful, unpredictable, wanton and absorbed in and with the body. That attitude had its downsides of course. Humans rarely, if ever, asked permission for their actions during coitus after the initial consent. Sometimes their lack of planning and lack of respect for personal space was frustrating. However, it was pleasing to me, by and large. I had and would consent to restraints on me, because they were a pretense. I was fully capable of removing myself from the manner of bonds Humans used during coitus if actions I found dissatisfying arose.
Putting Jim in that situation, with me or anyone who might’ve been in the past, was extremely unpalatable.
I told him that, as well.
Jim smiled softly and moved from the bed to the chair I was sitting on. He slid his legs over mine, under the armrests, so he was straddling me. His arms encircled my shoulders and his hands began stroking my hair. Without prompting, I put my hands behind him, equal parts squeezing him and supporting his back.
He only did this when he was particularly pleased with me. In this and other ways, Jim would wordlessly offer his body to me as a sort of reward for something he found charming. Another thing he seemed to think was pleasing. And, physically, it was. Jim had a very pleasant body. But a little unnerving, psychologically.
However, that did not stop me from pressing my fingers into his back, grazing over nerve points. It did not stop me from pressing my lips onto the skin just below his collarbone. And just above. And across his trapezius. And under his jaw.
“Fine,” he said, his voice a little breathy already. “You don’t have to tie me up. I just want you to make the decisions. I just want a decision-free night.”
That desire I could understand. A small release from the Captaincy.
“I can oblige that request without disrespecting your body or harming you.”
“I’m not gonna argue with you, but is it disrespectful when I ask you to do it?”
“Yes. And you are arguing,” I said and pulled his lips onto mine to cease him from arguing further.
When the night of Jim’s subordination arrived, I found myself nervous.
It wasn’t the actions I was dubious about. I could physically control him if the need be, though I didn’t wish to do that. It was the pretense of the event. Jim was capable of fully engaged, athletic sexual congress. He liked to test his strength and endurance against mine at times. But his desire to be completely controlled or truly submissive was rare. Knowing he was capable of otherwise ruined the affectation for me. I was not capable of pretending as Jim was. And it was only confusing when he attempted to play roles during our times of sexual intimacy.
Our physical relationship was so advantageous because it couldn’t precisely be said that our couplings were lead or followed by one particular individual. At times, Jim was more dominant. At times, I was. But most engagements were characterized by, ironically, frictionless understanding. I could not be so pleased by anything less equal. However, due to Jim’s enhanced libido and larger well of experience, he occasionally had a request for a particular role or sex act.
It was only right of me to oblige him for those reasons.
When I arrived in his room, Jim was sitting on his bed, smiling, his feet bouncing on the ground in anticipation. He got to his feet eagerly, about to speak.
“Remain seated,” I commanded, and then removed my boots and outer shirt.
My intention was to give him many restrictions to test his impatient nature; hopefully forcing him to realize that complete subordination was not something he desired. He could still be physically submissive, if that was what he desired, and engaged otherwise. It was my hypothesis he would tire of my commands before coitus was over and rebel against his desire for me to control him.
I did not really want to do this again.
I walked over to his desk chair and sat in it, appraising him for some time. His eyes began to shift expectantly. I could feel the air around him fill with tension. His fingers were tapping across his thighs.
“Listen,” he said, interrupting the silence. “Not that you’re not sexy, when you’re all deliberate and watching, like a sexy hawk or something, but I’m really kinda-“
“I do not wish you to speak.”
That instruction may not have been for his benefit alone.
I stood up abruptly, catching his full attention. “Be divested of your clothing, excepting your underwear, by the time I return.”
The luxuriant smile returned to his face as I left for the bathroom. In there I set the lights to thirty-five percent and removed my ocular protection lenses. Also, my socks. I washed my hands. Then after a moment of hesitation, I turned the room temperature to something suitable for me. It would soon become slightly uncomfortable for Jim. Adding the physical exertion of coitus, it would not take long for Jim to find it exasperating. I hoped it would speed my hypothesis into action.
When I returned, Jim was sitting in the same position, naked, but for his dark green tight-fitting underwear. His outerwear was strewn in front of his feet.
“Put your clothing in the proper receptacle.”
He scowled, but did it. “If I have to clean my room before-“
“Silence.”
He frowned for a second, but a playful smile broke through his disappointment. He stood by the bed, waiting.
“Undress me.”
He walked over slowly and moved to unbuckle my belt.
“Shirt first,” I corrected.
He collected the hem at the waist and pushed up until my shoulders, his fingertips skimming over my torso as he did. I facilitated him by lifting my arms. His hands moved to my back, scraping over my shoulder blades and down over my arms. He threw the shirt on his table.
“You may remove my pants now.”
After he slipped the belt out of his fastener, I amended, “Situate yourself on your knees first.”
He grinned, dropping to his knees, pulling my belt from its loops with an efficient tug.
“You know, I know you love-“
I placed my hand under his jaw, letting two fingers graze his adam’s apple and my thumb sweep across his lips. His beautiful lips that, more often than not, emitted tortured language and hot, enticing panting breaths. They naturally parted and sucked in my thumb, past his teeth. My hand shifted to push in farther. His warm, lithe tongue, the soft wetness of his mouth, the wanting, nibbling of his teeth, all tearing through the sensitive nerve endings of my thumb, echoing to my brain-I pulled my hand away abruptly.
“You will obey my instructions. No speaking, unless I ask you to. You may only pant, moan, whine, grunt… Beseech me with your hands, if you must. Do you understand?”
He bit his lower lip and his face fell into my crotch. He moaned enthusiastically, open-mouthed against my thigh, and nodded. The nuzzling and teeth-grazing elicited a reaction from my phallus. He mouthed over the area, his teeth audible when they ran over my zipper. I almost leaned into his machinations.
“Remove my pants,” I ordered.
He leaned back, his fingers unbuttoning and unzipping. I held onto his shoulders when I stepped out of the sleeves of my pants. I immediately kneeled to the floor with him and pushed him to his back, overcome with the desire to touch him. I didn’t know if he wanted to be disconnected from me-it was the impression I maintained from his desire to be restrained-but I required touch to achieve arousal. I needed to feel the flames of his emotions slipping out of the pores of his skin.
“Hook your legs around my waist,” I instructed.
He complied as I folded him under me. I pressed myself against him, rubbing my phallus against his spread gluteus muscles, against the grain of the cotton weave. I sunk my tongue into his mouth, writhing against his in this consistently bizarre, yet pleasing style of Human kissing, known as French. His erection was strengthening, trapped between my abdomen and his. His heels pressed into the base of my spine as he tried to hitch his knees higher up my sides.
He was motivating me toward penetration.
My mouth was wet with his saliva. I pressed my lips to the side of his face, inching closer to his neck. His fingers flitted over the tips of my pinna. His full lips mouthed wet, sucking pressure on the indent of my clavicle. He moaned heavily. My stomach dropped.
I pressed my thumb against his stretched adductor tendon, high inside the crook of his thigh, causing him to squeeze my waist tighter with a gasp. I ground my hips firmly against him, feeling the blood press hard in my testicles.
He watched me closely, licked his lips tentatively. He was waiting for me to speak. I pushed my hand further down to his knee and unhooked his legs from me. I pushed off of him, but pulled him with me by his forearm. He instinctively leaned toward me, attempting to wrap his arms around me again. I stopped him.
“We will move to the bed now. You will perform fellatio on me.”
He followed me obediently.
I was still disconcerted by the lack of his consent or affirmation. And not knowing his level of enjoyment fully, his skin was flushed with a confused frenzy of emotions. I wished to know what he desired, other than to be led. But I did enjoy the added structure of knowing exactly what was going to happen in the course of our coupling. That was usually noticeably absent.
I sat on the edge of the bed. And he settled on his knees in front of me.
“Put your arms around me.”
He grinned. There was a shine on his face from the heat of room.
He settled his arms over my thighs and squeezed tightly around me. He eased his mouth over the tip of my phallus and slowly let it sink further into his mouth, pushing up and relenting with his tongue. Compressing with the sides of this cheeks, and letting go. Bringing me in around the roof of his mouth and against the tops of his teeth. I shuddered at the practiced suction.
Far too soon, the warm depths of his vigorous sucking, the gentle molding of his lips around me, the strained breathing into my pubic hair, and the grip of his fingers on my sides brought me to plateau. The electric impulses vibrating from my brain to my genitals created such a frenzy, as to dull all other senses.
My fingers gripped more tightly in his hair. My eyes closed.
“I… am about to ejaculate,” I said through a moan. “Swallow it.”
Seconds later my mind was awash in pleasant numbness. My body shook from the swift absence of tension. Jim was actively swallowing around my penis. Some of the ejaculate escaped from his lips, rolling back onto me.
There were few differences between Human and Vulcan sexual organs. The differences were mostly in capacity and autonomic stimuli. On average, I produced approximately thirty-two percent more ejaculate. I could will the pressure of blood flow in my body to refrain from or sustain an erection, depending on the circumstances.
Sustaining my luteinizing and follicle stimulating hormones and restricting my blood vessels was my primary objective at that moment in order to continue to anal penetration.
I placed my hand on the side of his face, urging him to follow it through a tactile connection. My voice was low and heavy with desire, so I always tried to refrain from showing it. He stood and leaned into my arms. His phallus was straining against his underwear, pushing into my abdomen. I rolled him onto his back, crawling on top of him.
I wiped my thumb over his lower lip, still wet with a trace of semen. After a moment of softness, my penis was returning to turgidity again. With the practice I’d gained from my sexual partnership with Jim, I’d found it easier and easier to re-release my gonadotrophic hormones after recent stimulation. Of course, the process was never hindered by Jim’s body. At that moment his slack mouth and taut stomach, his own hormone levels building the blood pressure in his testicles higher.
He rubbed up against me with an anguished groan. His hands traveled rapidly over my sides imploringly and hesitated over the waistband of his underwear, then back to me. He was seething frustration and desire. He squeezed his thighs around me again.
I pushed myself by my elbow to look over him. I laid fingers over his pectoral muscles. They were wider and protruded more than mine. His abdomen was similarly developed, leaving a curved flatness that my fingers traveled over. I kissed the surface of his arms and neck as well.
He groaned loudly. I could see his tongue baited in his open mouth. His eyes were communicating need. I placed my kissing fingers on his lower lip, which he immediately took advantage of. He grabbed a hold of my hand with both of his and plunged those two fingers into his mouth, knuckled deep. He pulled my fingers back out sucking the length down, scraping his teeth over the digits as they exited. He kneaded my palm with his thumbs, taking in my fingers and pulling them out. Licking between them, over the fingertips. He tightened his legs around my waist and began thrusting up against my hips.
I suppose I could’ve stopped him from disobeying his instructions, but the pull of his mouth, the look of his swollen, round lips enveloping my phalanges, was too enjoyable to resist. I felt like melting into the warmth of his mouth, resting my head on his chest. I was content to stay there for a long while until he bit down slightly to bring my attention back to him.
I pulled my fingers out of his grasp and kissed him with my lips, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead.
I ground against his rocking hips, almost growling at the textile resistance. I pushed myself up, but was too reluctant to remove myself from the warmth of his body. I ripped the front seams of the underwear open, releasing his erection to the open air.
Jim pushed himself up, his eyes bright and wide. He gaped at me with astonishment and wild desire. He choked over sounds
“Speak,” I implored.
“That was SO awesome! I-“
“Cease speaking.”
I leaned over far to take the lubricant out of his nightstand. I ripped open the other side of his waistband and pulled the torn fabric out from under him, discarding it over my shoulder. He let out a throaty laugh that shook his stomach. He was clearly pleased by that. I massaged the lubricant over my penis and took care to do the same with his rectum, pushing into the muscle, stretching it for entry.
Shortly after I entered him, as I suspected, Jim abandoned his pretense for the sexual engagement. He scratched at my back with his dull fingernails. He fell into the standard rambling he initiated during coitus. His heels pushed into my back. And he then slipped his hand between us and attempted to massage his own tumescent organ to fruition.
I pulled his hand away. I pushed his sweat-slicked knees to his chest, and then tucked my shoulders underneath them, shifting his center of weight down to his shoulders and upper back. He gasped heavily, letting his mouth hang open. His knitted brow had become unknit, and his eyes glazed over as my phallus re-entered him more deeply and faster.
There was no resistance in his legs as I thrust into him. He wrapped his fingers tight against the beams of the headboard, as I bore down on to him. We were slowly edging to the end of the bed. He pushed back against me.
“Oh god,” he groaned. “Oh fuck, Spock. Oh, fuck me. Christ… Fuck me harder. Oh, touch me!”
“You were not supposed to give orders.”
“Oh fuck, I couldn’t possibly fucking care anymore!” He spat, pushing harder against the headboard. “Please, touch me, god, shit. Christ! Touch me!”
His erection barely lasted against my hand, well before I was ready to reach climax. I was still deep inside him as his seminal fluid pooled and spread over his stomach. His whole body was beginning to give way, his muscles relaxing. He let go of the headboard entirely.
I pushed his knees down his chest again, pushing his entrance higher. He was completely pliant, but I believed for different reasons than before. He groaned, feeling the weight settling high on his shoulders, and no doubt, tired of having my still inside of him. I breathed in heavily and let the testosterone and gonadotrophins flood my bloodstream. With a higher hormone output, I was thrust into him more aggressively and faster.
I came again, with another wash of numbing nervous overload in my brain, pushing his knees hard into his chest. When I let go and disengaged from his anal canal, he let out a heavy breath of air, as though he’d been retaining it the entire time. His legs fell lax on either side o me. The ejaculate had dripped down to his chest, aided by his strange and continual removal of the hair there.
I reached over to the nightstand, where he kept napkins for such a mess, despite my body’s inclination to relax after seminal release. I wiped the fluid off his chest and stomach and discarded it in the trashcan. He looked up at me, sated and alluring. I retreated to his side, not bothering to clean myself.
He grinned openly, his blue eyes vibrant. In the relative dark, could more clearly see the flecks of white and gray than during the day.
He laughed fetchingly, “So that was fucking awesome when you broke my underwear to screw me. That could definitely happen again.”
“It should not surprise me, but you are not very adept at following orders.”
“Yeah, well, you would suck at domming.”
“I do not wish to control you or restrict your expressions.”
He kissed me. “I know. That’s the only reason why I asked you to.”
I shook my head. Incomprehensible.
:D
JLB