Star Trek XI Ficlet: Giving distraction his best shot [Kirk/Spock; R]
Title: Giving distraction his best shot
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: Hard R
Length: 980 words
Disclaimer: Belongs to Paramount and Gene Roddenberry.
Spoilers: Just the new film
AN: Claiming my anonymous from st_xi_kink, for the prompt: Kirk straddling Spock in the Captains Chair talking dirty. Originally here.
"My turn to tell you to get out of the chair?" Kirk asks. The laughter is unhidden in his voice.
Spock doesn't turn around, but he does begin to stand, so the Captain can take the chair. Jim likes to sprawl low in it, tapping idle music on the sides when he is bored. Although sometimes, on night shifts like these, he pulls his legs up into the seat, and rests his hands on his knees, as a child might do.
Spock prefers to sit upright, with his hands near the controls. He was the only person on the bridge before Jim arrived, and he takes the responsibility seriously.
Jim says, “On second thought, stay where you are.”
“Captain?” Spock asks, but Jim has already walked around the chair, to stand between Spock’s legs. Spock knows, however illogical the action is about to be, what Jim is thinking about doing. So it is not surprise that informs his response when Jim crawls up onto the seat, kneeling with his legs either side of Spock’s thighs.
Jim frowns. “This doesn’t do anything for you at all, does it? Of all the people on the ship not to want to play captain and have their wicked way on this chair…”
“I am content with my current position.”
“I’m going to choose to believe that was a pun,” Jim says, and grins.
Spock raises his eyebrow.
Jim sighs. “Or not. Nothing? You know, if this was the other way round, I would be turned on right now. And I am the Captain, so really it should do less for me.”
“You would like us to change places?”
“No- No,” Jim says, and settles himself more comfortably on top of Spock. “I’d just like a reaction. Come on. You’ve never wanted to boss me around a little bit? Never wanted to just get me to shut. the. fuck. up?”
Spock doesn’t look at the console they had struggled over until Kirk does.
Jim smirks. “Yeah.” He turns back, curling his hand around Spock’s neck to pull himself closer. “Bend me over the console with one of your hands over my mouth and the other one pinning my wrists. Cause I know it would only take one.”
Spock nods.
Jim says, “You’d fuck me and I’d try and bite your fingers off.”
“That would seem-”
“Because I’d want you to hear me. Hear me saying, ‘Please, Spock, please.’ Would ‘Captain’ do it for you? ‘Sir’? Or would you just want to fuck the begging right out of me? You want me quiet, Spock? Between your knees, on the floor of the bridge with you in the chair?”
Jim shifts, as though he might lend action to thought and slip to the floor. And perhaps he is only getting more comfortable, but Spock’s hand shoots out to grab Jim’s arm. The noise dragged from his throat is briefly guttural, dragging Jim back onto his lap. His hands drop to Jim’s hip, and he lifts him up and down again, drawing them closer. The sound Jim makes is undeniably a squeak, though Spock knows Jim well enough by now to understand that he will deny this to the last.
Spock pushes their clothing out of the way, where Jim’s fingers are not fast enough. He takes them both in his one hand. Jim says, “Spock,” without the please, and bites the juncture of Spock’s neck.
His hands are slick, and when he runs his thumb up the underside of Jim’s cock, he is rewarded with a shudder, and that missing ‘please’.
There are benefits of course, in delayed gratification (Spock. Please). Both where the pleasure would result in a greater lasting harm (move, damn you) or where the delay will heighten the pleasure later (Please. Anything you- please.) He knows, logically, that Jim needs to learn a little more about patience (do you not want-? please, just touch me again.) He turns Jim’s face towards him, and kisses Jim before sliding his hand into the impatient pace.
Jim falls against him on completion, sticky and sweaty and panting. Spock twists his fingers in the pace he prefers, pleasantly surprised when Jim’s hand covers his, between their bodies.
After, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He could settle them on Jim’s waist, as he might do with a female companion, which could offend Jim. Or he could leave them as they were before, awkwardly resting on the arms of the chair, which may equally appear unfeeling. Spock ends up with one arm around Jim’s shoulders, lightly, simply holding him in the chair. With the other hand, he checks the status reports, because he is close to missing the next check.
Jim murmurs, sounding half-asleep, with his cheek pressed to Spock’s collarbone, “Is there any chance of me ever doing something that distracts you into a temporary dereliction of duty?”
“I don’t expect so. The chances, at least, are not high.”
“Thought not,” Jim says. He doesn’t sound especially concerned by the reply.
The readouts all come out as they are supposed to. Spock turns the chair a little with his foot, pointing it towards the view of the stars. Jim shifts, and Spock lifts his other arm, so he doesn’t spill the man over the floor.
“It is… gratifying, however,” Spock says.
“Hmm?”
“To be the object of such… detailed… fantasy.”
“Yeah, well, Bones would probably tell you not to take my interest too-”
“I know about your sexual history,” Spock replies. “Nevertheless…”
Jim smiles, Spock can feel the lazy warmth of it against his chest. Or he imagines that he imagines he can, with Jim turned around in the chair, sprawled on top of him. Jim whispers, “I’ve got other fantasies about the chair.”
“I am sure that you do,” Spock answers, before checking the readouts one more time, and folding his hands securely around Jim.
FIN. Feedback always welcome.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: Hard R
Length: 980 words
Disclaimer: Belongs to Paramount and Gene Roddenberry.
Spoilers: Just the new film
AN: Claiming my anonymous from st_xi_kink, for the prompt: Kirk straddling Spock in the Captains Chair talking dirty. Originally here.
"My turn to tell you to get out of the chair?" Kirk asks. The laughter is unhidden in his voice.
Spock doesn't turn around, but he does begin to stand, so the Captain can take the chair. Jim likes to sprawl low in it, tapping idle music on the sides when he is bored. Although sometimes, on night shifts like these, he pulls his legs up into the seat, and rests his hands on his knees, as a child might do.
Spock prefers to sit upright, with his hands near the controls. He was the only person on the bridge before Jim arrived, and he takes the responsibility seriously.
Jim says, “On second thought, stay where you are.”
“Captain?” Spock asks, but Jim has already walked around the chair, to stand between Spock’s legs. Spock knows, however illogical the action is about to be, what Jim is thinking about doing. So it is not surprise that informs his response when Jim crawls up onto the seat, kneeling with his legs either side of Spock’s thighs.
Jim frowns. “This doesn’t do anything for you at all, does it? Of all the people on the ship not to want to play captain and have their wicked way on this chair…”
“I am content with my current position.”
“I’m going to choose to believe that was a pun,” Jim says, and grins.
Spock raises his eyebrow.
Jim sighs. “Or not. Nothing? You know, if this was the other way round, I would be turned on right now. And I am the Captain, so really it should do less for me.”
“You would like us to change places?”
“No- No,” Jim says, and settles himself more comfortably on top of Spock. “I’d just like a reaction. Come on. You’ve never wanted to boss me around a little bit? Never wanted to just get me to shut. the. fuck. up?”
Spock doesn’t look at the console they had struggled over until Kirk does.
Jim smirks. “Yeah.” He turns back, curling his hand around Spock’s neck to pull himself closer. “Bend me over the console with one of your hands over my mouth and the other one pinning my wrists. Cause I know it would only take one.”
Spock nods.
Jim says, “You’d fuck me and I’d try and bite your fingers off.”
“That would seem-”
“Because I’d want you to hear me. Hear me saying, ‘Please, Spock, please.’ Would ‘Captain’ do it for you? ‘Sir’? Or would you just want to fuck the begging right out of me? You want me quiet, Spock? Between your knees, on the floor of the bridge with you in the chair?”
Jim shifts, as though he might lend action to thought and slip to the floor. And perhaps he is only getting more comfortable, but Spock’s hand shoots out to grab Jim’s arm. The noise dragged from his throat is briefly guttural, dragging Jim back onto his lap. His hands drop to Jim’s hip, and he lifts him up and down again, drawing them closer. The sound Jim makes is undeniably a squeak, though Spock knows Jim well enough by now to understand that he will deny this to the last.
Spock pushes their clothing out of the way, where Jim’s fingers are not fast enough. He takes them both in his one hand. Jim says, “Spock,” without the please, and bites the juncture of Spock’s neck.
His hands are slick, and when he runs his thumb up the underside of Jim’s cock, he is rewarded with a shudder, and that missing ‘please’.
There are benefits of course, in delayed gratification (Spock. Please). Both where the pleasure would result in a greater lasting harm (move, damn you) or where the delay will heighten the pleasure later (Please. Anything you- please.) He knows, logically, that Jim needs to learn a little more about patience (do you not want-? please, just touch me again.) He turns Jim’s face towards him, and kisses Jim before sliding his hand into the impatient pace.
Jim falls against him on completion, sticky and sweaty and panting. Spock twists his fingers in the pace he prefers, pleasantly surprised when Jim’s hand covers his, between their bodies.
After, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He could settle them on Jim’s waist, as he might do with a female companion, which could offend Jim. Or he could leave them as they were before, awkwardly resting on the arms of the chair, which may equally appear unfeeling. Spock ends up with one arm around Jim’s shoulders, lightly, simply holding him in the chair. With the other hand, he checks the status reports, because he is close to missing the next check.
Jim murmurs, sounding half-asleep, with his cheek pressed to Spock’s collarbone, “Is there any chance of me ever doing something that distracts you into a temporary dereliction of duty?”
“I don’t expect so. The chances, at least, are not high.”
“Thought not,” Jim says. He doesn’t sound especially concerned by the reply.
The readouts all come out as they are supposed to. Spock turns the chair a little with his foot, pointing it towards the view of the stars. Jim shifts, and Spock lifts his other arm, so he doesn’t spill the man over the floor.
“It is… gratifying, however,” Spock says.
“Hmm?”
“To be the object of such… detailed… fantasy.”
“Yeah, well, Bones would probably tell you not to take my interest too-”
“I know about your sexual history,” Spock replies. “Nevertheless…”
Jim smiles, Spock can feel the lazy warmth of it against his chest. Or he imagines that he imagines he can, with Jim turned around in the chair, sprawled on top of him. Jim whispers, “I’ve got other fantasies about the chair.”
“I am sure that you do,” Spock answers, before checking the readouts one more time, and folding his hands securely around Jim.
FIN. Feedback always welcome.