[art] Sprained my back again, can't bennnnnnnd. D:
Fandom: Star Trek
Rating: Mostly Gen, but there are still a couple of NSFW pictures.
Warning: Lots and lots of crack.
( IMAGE HEAVY. )
Rating: Mostly Gen, but there are still a couple of NSFW pictures.
Warning: Lots and lots of crack.
( IMAGE HEAVY. )
He needed this today, needed it so badly. Working on the bridge with Spock an arm's length away was maddening enough most of the time when he was being the cool, perfect, reserved First Officer who was the envy of every Captain in Starfleet, but on the days when he let a trace of those hot Vulcan emotions stray into his eyes, it took everything Jim had not to react. A scornful, expressive arch of an eyebrow or the barest hint of humour twitching the edges of that stern mouth and Jim just wanted to see what else could break the civil, serene, fucking infuriating mask.
Spock was always in control of himself, and it made Jim crazy.
Even when--even when he was wearing demure little heels and panties and looking away with a coy little blush, he was in control of fucking everything around him; Jim could tell. It was in the tilt of his head and the angle of his shoulder, the way Jim would give anything, anything just to bite the muscled lines of his stomach and inhale the smell of him--what would he smell like there, so close to where his thigh joined the hard curve of his torso?--Jim gave a shuddering moan and stroked himself faster.
Spock was always so in control. Even in Jim's fantasies, he barely blinked an eye at being dressed like a rich man's kept toy, staring coolly down at Jim as he licked his way up under the scandalously short skirt, hungry little noises spilling from his throat as he nuzzled against the hot bulge there. Spock would put one hand on his head, then, to--to steady himself as Jim mouthed at that damp white cotton and tasted him, and--oh, oh--
Jim heard his own breath keen out of him in sobbing whimpers as his spine went abruptly taut and trembling with release, leaving him in a panting, damp heap on the bedcover.
He opened his eyes and looked up at the poster on the wall by his bed.
"Night, Spock," he whispered hoarsely.
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I'm glad you liked it, because it sort of DEMANDED TO BE WRITTEN, and I wasn't sure how you'd feel about random pornlets with lovely sprinklings of profanity in your comment thread.
Yay for Spock inna skirt?
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I THINK IT IS BECAUSE YOU SPELL 'FAVOURITE' PROPERLY. LADYB IS SADLY LACKING IN THIS ARENA.
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GLORIOUS CANADIAN ARTSSSSSS, OH YES.
Now ladyb is pouting because she is excluded. Oops.
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WELL SHE CAN START TYPING THE CORRECT WAY. 8DDD COLOUR, NEIGHBOUR, FAVOURITE~
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