Jim was drawing back to comply with Spock's--well, it wasn't exactly a request, now, was it? but it wasn't like he objected--command, and was caught, for a moment, by the sight of Spock's long fingers engulfed by Len's mouth, lids lowered in concentration and something else.
With a smirk, he slid his fingers down to the waistband of Len's trousers, teasing the skin just beneath it and drawing them together to meet at the button. Which he undid, deftly, sliding the zipper down and then drawing the pants off as he himself scooted back off Len's lap. Len lifted his hips helpfully. Jim settled between Len's bare legs, shaking out his hair so it spread over them as Jim licked and nibbled a path up one.
He likes this. You telling him what to do.
Had they been alone, Jim would have tried to find that reaction himself, would have wanted Len to bend him over and fuck him any way he saw fit until he couldn't stand. But Len was so clearly not in that position right now, his whole body melting between them, that that other man might not even have existed. Jim's teeth scraped the tender flesh of Len's thigh before his lips sucked gently at the red mark.
Her mental voice was amused. Spock did not think Jim would find any objection either.
Her mental voice was amused... and breathless. She allowed a moan as Len increased the suction on her fingers, his tongue a wet pleasure that shivered through her.
Tease him.
Spock moved so her mouth was by Len's ear, breath hotter by far than a human's would be as she whispered into the shell of it.
"Has your distress continued or shall we advance?"
It had hardly ever been distress. Anxiety, yes, uncertainty, and it hadn't left, precisely, just transformed into the delicious frission of not-knowing that sparked his blood, sensitized him all over as he welcomed it, let it rush through him.
He wasn't confident he could express that coherently enough, right now, so he released Spock's fingers with one last suck, lips moving against their tips as he answered.
"Whatever you want, Spock."
Whatever Jim wanted, too. Her hair was teasingly soft against his thighs in sharp counterpoint to the edge of her teeth, and he couldn't resist reaching out to draw his fingers through it, something almost reverent about the gesture.
God. Spock moaning, Len's sharp desperation, were the same voice at different speeds, inextricably linked to arousal for Jim now. He felt Len's unspoken addition in the hand in his hair, and something about it, about Len's surrender, sparked something tender and fierce within him.
No. I don't object at all.
His hand slid up Len's legs, combing through wiry hair as his mouth continued upwards, to the telltale mound still covered by a thin layer of cloth. His tongue licked for a moment between cloth and thigh, and then Jim was mouthing Len teasingly over his underwear, inhaling the scent of him.
"She's lovely, isn't she?" Jim murmured throatily. It didn't require a response.
Whether it was in answer to Jim's question, or an affirmation of Spock's statement was unclear, but it hardly mattered, the response one and the same.
It took effort to keep his hand light on Jim's hair as his breaths sped up noticeably, to keep his hips still against the maddeningly gentle contact of her lips, a low moan spilling from Leonard's lips as his back arched in spite of himself.
He raised his head just enough so he could meet Jim's eyes.
Jim smiled up at Len, something more and less than a smirk, his eyes dark and familiar. With a last kiss to the firm flesh under his lips, he pulled back and drew off his shirt. The gesture was curiously masculine, somehow, despite the way it shoved his breasts up and down again. He didn't particularly like wearing a bra, but there it was, knowing as he did how distracting it could be knowing there was a sweater without one underneath. Which happened to be plain cotton, but suited his sleekness. And it was pink.
"Spock," he said, unhooking the bra with an expertise he'd found transferable, "wants to watch you fuck me." His slid his hands up Len's legs again, bending forward slightly though his eyes didn't leave Len's face.
I was unaware that my question constituted instruction to share this information.
There was something very stern, layered with disapproving disappointment, to Spock's tone in Jim's mind. As though Spock were somehow put out that she would now have to alter her plan.
"That is true. Len, you will direct Jim in this."
Her Jim was so impatient and driven. Perhaps he could be taught the value of slow.
Spock stood, after one more less-than-gentle bite to Len's neck, and moved now to stand behind Jim, looking at the two of them, Jim's golden hair shining between Len's thighs.
At Spock's silent remonstration, Jim's eyes flew wide, surprised by the disappointment in Spock's tone and in the flavor of the bond. But that surprise was quickly supplanted by something Len would recognize, too, when Spock spoke aloud. Something in Jim's expression that showed contrite restraint as he gazed over Len's head to Spock. His hands stilled on Len's thighs, and he dropped his eyes, which by necessity passed over Len's face.
Leonard had been attempting to formulate a response that would qualify as verbal, instead of just vocal, although the shiver that ran through his body at Jim's words left no question as to how he felt about this proposal. Jim's current position, the way her breasts brushed gently against him was proving entirely too distracting.
The yes in response to Spock's direct command, however, took no thought at all, coming only more readily at the sympathetic pang that twisted his stomach at her submissive gesture, making him sharply aware of the conversation he was missing, between the lines. He pulled Jim upwards by her shoulders, to kiss her again hotly, wetly.
"The bed will be better for this," he addressed Spock once he'd withdrawn, clearly asking permission.
And there was something else, something that was escaping him right this second, with Jim this close and vulnerable, something important...
There was something swirling through Jim, competing layers of input involving Len and Spock and where he stood with either or both of them. Balances shifting, Spock's voice in his head, Len granted permission from Spock that somehow toppled Jim from where he thought he was. It was not unpleasant. But it was disorienting, Len's mouth hot and demanding and yet tender against his, and the heat between his legs let him know he just wanted to give in, to both of them, for Spock to set him and Len the way she wanted them.
But there was something he needed to do. Something he'd prepared for, that he had to do, that recent events had conspired to make even more urgent than being good. He risked--well, he wasn't sure what he risked, either informing Spock of what needed to be done or doing it himself, but it was hard to figure out, that voice in his head, Spock's heady presence behind him, and he reached out to the table beside the chair and wrapped his fingers around the cool cylinder he found there.
"Sorry," he murmured, in his head and out of it, as he whipped the hypo up to Len's neck and the contraceptive whooshed into his system. "Contraceptive."
He sent massive amounts of apology to Spock, trying to excuse it as a time out, if such things existed here. Much as he loved Len, he was not interested in carrying his child. But he'd accept whatever Spock dictated.
...yes, that. In a curious coincidence of timing, his brain had just about arrived at the conclusion the moment the hypo hit his neck unexpectedly.
Which didn't make him feel any less stunned, momentarily, as he blinked up at Jim. Or like less castigated, for not mentioning it sooner. Oh well. Trust Jim to come prepared.
His lip quirked in a somewhat rueful smile, silent apology.
It had actually startled her, Jim's movement - Spock was as wrapped up in the world of their bodies as the others and she was momentarily unsure.
Contraceptive. Logical.
Spock petted Jim's golden head, urged Jim to stand - it was easy to nudge Jim to the bed when he was such a welter of confused arousal. She pulled her mate down onto the mattress, Jim's back to Spock's front, arms wrapped tight and embracing for a moment, protective and possessive.
And then she turned her gaze back to Len - who had remained in his chair.
"So well-behaved. The bed is acceptable."
Spock's embrace changed - she cupped Jim's breasts, part caress, part offering to Len.
"Join us."
It is well that you remembered.
The apology shuddering through the bond was accepted. In this instance, at least.
Okay, so it seemed that things like preventing unintended pregnancy of the usually-male fell under acceptable disobedience. Waiting for Spock's reaction, Jim had gone willingly to the bed, relief at Spock's acceptance clear and quickly supplanted again but the feel of her, her breasts against his back, her hands manipulating him mercilessly. His denim-clad legs felt suffocated where they lay between Spock's, but he could be patient, he could wait. He fit in so many places now, slender and flexible and light. Why didn't that bother him more? Or was it about this, about being overcome, because thus far in this body he had only encountered the comfort of it?
His head dipping back against Spock's shoulder, Jim waited, eyes not leaving Len.
Jim wasn't the only one in a state of confused arousal, the latter flaring up sharply inside Leonard at the sight of Spock embracing her, presenting her like this, the former softened by the honeyed tones of approval in her voice.
He followed them without hesitation, as if drawn on a string, lying down to face Jim, hands reaching out to trail over her ribs, between her breasts, the curve of one thigh.
The tenderness that washed over him was oddly unfamiliar, given everything else, if not entirely unexpected. His tongue licked a trail of wetness up behind Jim's ear.
"You got to this part yet, in your data collection?"
He somehow suspected not. It shouldn't have made a difference, perhaps, but in some strange, indefinable way, it did.
Spock's hands drifted, moved to the waistband of Jim's jeans. The button and zipper were easily dealt with; she slipped a hand inside, fingers dancing over the cotton fabric of the plain (also pink) panties Jim had taken to wearing.
With a smirk, he slid his fingers down to the waistband of Len's trousers, teasing the skin just beneath it and drawing them together to meet at the button. Which he undid, deftly, sliding the zipper down and then drawing the pants off as he himself scooted back off Len's lap. Len lifted his hips helpfully. Jim settled between Len's bare legs, shaking out his hair so it spread over them as Jim licked and nibbled a path up one.
He likes this. You telling him what to do.
Had they been alone, Jim would have tried to find that reaction himself, would have wanted Len to bend him over and fuck him any way he saw fit until he couldn't stand. But Len was so clearly not in that position right now, his whole body melting between them, that that other man might not even have existed. Jim's teeth scraped the tender flesh of Len's thigh before his lips sucked gently at the red mark.
Reply
Her mental voice was amused. Spock did not think Jim would find any objection either.
Her mental voice was amused... and breathless. She allowed a moan as Len increased the suction on her fingers, his tongue a wet pleasure that shivered through her.
Tease him.
Spock moved so her mouth was by Len's ear, breath hotter by far than a human's would be as she whispered into the shell of it.
"Has your distress continued or shall we advance?"
Reply
He wasn't confident he could express that coherently enough, right now, so he released Spock's fingers with one last suck, lips moving against their tips as he answered.
"Whatever you want, Spock."
Whatever Jim wanted, too. Her hair was teasingly soft against his thighs in sharp counterpoint to the edge of her teeth, and he couldn't resist reaching out to draw his fingers through it, something almost reverent about the gesture.
Reply
No. I don't object at all.
His hand slid up Len's legs, combing through wiry hair as his mouth continued upwards, to the telltale mound still covered by a thin layer of cloth. His tongue licked for a moment between cloth and thigh, and then Jim was mouthing Len teasingly over his underwear, inhaling the scent of him.
"She's lovely, isn't she?" Jim murmured throatily. It didn't require a response.
Reply
"What I want... I believe what I want at the moment is to see how you respond to Jim's stimulus."
I wish to see him fuck you. Is this acceptable?
Reply
Whether it was in answer to Jim's question, or an affirmation of Spock's statement was unclear, but it hardly mattered, the response one and the same.
It took effort to keep his hand light on Jim's hair as his breaths sped up noticeably, to keep his hips still against the maddeningly gentle contact of her lips, a low moan spilling from Leonard's lips as his back arched in spite of himself.
He raised his head just enough so he could meet Jim's eyes.
"You're both, oh, utterly beautiful."
Reply
"Spock," he said, unhooking the bra with an expertise he'd found transferable, "wants to watch you fuck me." His slid his hands up Len's legs again, bending forward slightly though his eyes didn't leave Len's face.
Reply
There was something very stern, layered with disapproving disappointment, to Spock's tone in Jim's mind. As though Spock were somehow put out that she would now have to alter her plan.
"That is true. Len, you will direct Jim in this."
Her Jim was so impatient and driven. Perhaps he could be taught the value of slow.
Spock stood, after one more less-than-gentle bite to Len's neck, and moved now to stand behind Jim, looking at the two of them, Jim's golden hair shining between Len's thighs.
Reply
Reply
The yes in response to Spock's direct command, however, took no thought at all, coming only more readily at the sympathetic pang that twisted his stomach at her submissive gesture, making him sharply aware of the conversation he was missing, between the lines. He pulled Jim upwards by her shoulders, to kiss her again hotly, wetly.
"The bed will be better for this," he addressed Spock once he'd withdrawn, clearly asking permission.
And there was something else, something that was escaping him right this second, with Jim this close and vulnerable, something important...
Reply
But there was something he needed to do. Something he'd prepared for, that he had to do, that recent events had conspired to make even more urgent than being good. He risked--well, he wasn't sure what he risked, either informing Spock of what needed to be done or doing it himself, but it was hard to figure out, that voice in his head, Spock's heady presence behind him, and he reached out to the table beside the chair and wrapped his fingers around the cool cylinder he found there.
"Sorry," he murmured, in his head and out of it, as he whipped the hypo up to Len's neck and the contraceptive whooshed into his system. "Contraceptive."
He sent massive amounts of apology to Spock, trying to excuse it as a time out, if such things existed here. Much as he loved Len, he was not interested in carrying his child. But he'd accept whatever Spock dictated.
Reply
Which didn't make him feel any less stunned, momentarily, as he blinked up at Jim. Or like less castigated, for not mentioning it sooner. Oh well. Trust Jim to come prepared.
His lip quirked in a somewhat rueful smile, silent apology.
Reply
Contraceptive. Logical.
Spock petted Jim's golden head, urged Jim to stand - it was easy to nudge Jim to the bed when he was such a welter of confused arousal. She pulled her mate down onto the mattress, Jim's back to Spock's front, arms wrapped tight and embracing for a moment, protective and possessive.
And then she turned her gaze back to Len - who had remained in his chair.
"So well-behaved. The bed is acceptable."
Spock's embrace changed - she cupped Jim's breasts, part caress, part offering to Len.
"Join us."
It is well that you remembered.
The apology shuddering through the bond was accepted. In this instance, at least.
Reply
His head dipping back against Spock's shoulder, Jim waited, eyes not leaving Len.
Reply
He followed them without hesitation, as if drawn on a string, lying down to face Jim, hands reaching out to trail over her ribs, between her breasts, the curve of one thigh.
The tenderness that washed over him was oddly unfamiliar, given everything else, if not entirely unexpected. His tongue licked a trail of wetness up behind Jim's ear.
"You got to this part yet, in your data collection?"
He somehow suspected not. It shouldn't have made a difference, perhaps, but in some strange, indefinable way, it did.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment