Lesson the First (Part 2 of the Teach Me Tonight series)
Title: Lesson the First
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17, like, right away
Disclaimer: I actually had the opportunity to buy the Trek franchise at a garage sale recently, but I waited too long and Paramount got to it first. Drat the luck. Now I own nothing and don't even make any money from this.
A/N: This is still porn. Again, posted at about 1:30 without a read-through, only this time I've been drinking martinis! Um . . . yeah, if you wanted to wait until I actually have a chance to look at it tomorrow, I wouldn't blame you. (Case in point: it just took three tries for me to type "wouldn't" correctly. Yeah.)
Summary: During sex, Jim is so intent on pleasing his partner that he never actually reaches orgasm himself. Spock is out to change all that
“Oh god,” Jim moans at the first brush of Spock’s fingers against his ribs. He’s so on-edge at this point that he feels like he could come just from that, with no more stimulation than Spock’s hands sliding over his skin. Ironically, the thought brings such a knot of terror to his stomach that his erection actually begins to wilt. “Spock, I don’t think this is going to work.”
Spock leans down to place a slow, lingering kiss to Jim’s lips. “You must relax,” he murmurs. “I have already climaxed.” His mouth moves to Jim’s ear, his tongue tracing the outer edge as he gives a little hum of pleasure. “You do not need to be concerned about my needs at the moment. Give yourself over to your own. It can happen as quickly or as slowly as you please; I will not think less of you either way.”
“How . . . wait, are you reading my mind again?” Jim is trying for indignant, but it’s difficult to manage when Spock’s fingers find his nipples. “That’s not . . . ah, I don’t really think that’s f-fair.”
Spock pulls back just far enough to stare down into Jim’s eyes. His hands slide slowly from Jim’s shoulders down his arms; fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, and before he knows it Jim finds that Spock has pinned them above his head.
“I do not believe,” Spock says, his voice so low that it’s nearly a purr, “that I am of a mind to be fair. And you, Jim, will simply have to come to terms with that.”
Spock leans down and runs his tongue over the muscle connecting Jim’s neck and shoulder, drawing forth a shudder before he bites down hard. Jim is aware, even as he cries out and bucks under the rough treatment, that there’s going to be a mark there. He’s pretty sure it’s low enough that his uniform will cover it, but in all honesty he doesn’t think he really cares if it’s not. He can’t, not with Spock’s voice rasping in his ear and a hot, heavy body settling smoothly over his.
“You insist on taking responsibility in every aspect of your life, even when it is not necessary for you to do so. You are not responsible for what happens now, Jim.” He sucks gently at the spot he’s just bitten, as though he isn’t certain there’s going to be a bruise and doesn’t want to take a risk. “You are not in control. Do you understand?”
Jim makes an inarticulate noise and tries to arch up, but he’s more securely pinned than he’s ever been in his life. There’s a part of his mind that’s loudly protesting; it’s the part that got him through his childhood more or less intact, the part that let him make it through Starfleet Academy in three years instead of four, the part that kept him from forming any lasting relationships beyond his friendship with Bones. It’s insisting that he is in control; that he always has to be. That he can’t trust anyone else to take the reins instead. That part of him struggles, tries to push Spock off, to roll them over and take the lead again. Spock holds him down as easily as if Jim were simply lying still, and as his flagging erection takes enthusiastic notice of that fact, the desperate, struggling part of him simply rolls over and goes to sleep. He practically melts into the mattress, and Spock makes an approving noise against his collarbone.
“Very good.” He releases Jim’s wrists, visibly pleased when they stay where he put them. Their mouths meet as Spock begins to run his hands slowly over every part of Jim’s body that he can easily reach. “I will take charge now,” he murmurs against Jim’s lips. “You need only concern yourself with doing as I wish. And what I wish . . .” He twines their fingers together briefly, and the hitch in his breath sounds like music. “What I wish is to watch you come completely undone. Do you think that you can do that for me?”
Jim’s fairly sure if he were anything approaching normal, he’d be well on his way to fulfilling that request just from Spock's words. However, an unsteady, “I’ll try,” is the best he can manage. Luckily, that seems to be enough.
“Very well then. To begin, you must relax.” Spock’s mouth trails across his shoulders as his hands slip lower, sliding between their bodies to brush teasingly against Jim’s cock.
“’S not . . . that easy,” Jim manages to protest.
“Is it not?” Spock shifts lower, lips and tongue sliding over Jim’s chest. “You are able to achieve orgasm through manual self-stimulation, is that correct?”
“Uh . . .” In his current state it takes a while for Jim to translate what Spock just said. “You mean I come when I jerk myself off?” He can feel Spock smirking against his stomach.
“I do believe that is what I said.” Spock’s tongue traces the ridges between Jim’s abdominal muscles, making his stomach quiver helplessly. “Has it not occurred to you that, as a telepath, I would be able to anticipate your needs and desires as easily as you do yourself? That I would be able to manipulate,” said with a firm squeeze of his fingers around Jim’s cock, “your body as easily, as well?”
“Um.” Jim tries to uncross his eyes and breathe normally as Spock continues his slow, torturous trail down Jim’s body. “N-no.”
Spock hums as his tongue dips into Jim’s navel. “I find that difficult to believe. You have, after all, already admitted to imagining how I might behave during sexual intercourse.”
“Yeah, but . . . oh, that’s . . . that’s nice,” he breathes when Spock’s mouth finds his hipbone. It takes some effort to pull his thoughts back in line. “I mostly thought about touching you,” he admits at last.
“I see.” Spock’s breath is hot against Jim’s inner thigh. “Perhaps this will be of assistance when you next feel the need for self-gratification.”
Jim gets no more warning than that before Spock’s mouth finds his cock, a surprisingly rough tongue licking up the underside before he’s engulfed to the root in hot, wet pressure. He actually feels his eyes roll back in his head, and then he can’t spare so much as a second of attention for anything other than the feel of Spock’s mouth on him.
It’s not the first blowjob he’s received, but it’s the first that he hasn’t thought of as a precursor to pleasing someone else, just something to get him hard and wet before he slides into an eager body. Spock is playing him like an instrument, and fuck, fuck, how did it never occur to him how amazing sex with a telepath could be? It’s like touching himself, except his hand has never felt half so good as the mouth that’s wrapped around him. Soft lips and a clever tongue and oh, just the slightest scrape of teeth. It’s something he never would have consciously asked for, but it seems that Spock knows more about what he wants than Jim knows himself. The thought is frightening, but not enough to detract from the unbearable pleasure of whatever it is that Spock is doing with his tongue. He’ll freak out about it later, Jim decides, and tangles his fingers in Spock’s hair.
Jim quickly decides that the best thing-and that’s best out of a host of amazing things too numerous to count-is Spock’s ability to anticipate exactly what he needs at exactly the moment he needs it. His tongue teases just long enough before he pulls Jim back in; the pressure he exerts can skirt the razor-thin border with pain without ever drifting over; his hands and mouth are precisely where Jim wants them before he’s even consciously aware of the need. Each time he retreats too far into his own head Spock’s touch alters just enough to catch him off-guard, and soon he’s lost in sensation again. He’s close now, closer than he’s ever been with another person before. But the closer he gets the more he fears that he won’t be able to manage that final tumble over, and he feels himself tensing again.
But then, so swiftly that Jim wonders if it maybe hasn’t been there all along, Spock’s hand is at his temple. It’s not a full meld; at least, it’s nothing like the riot of information and emotion that he remembers from Delta Vega. He feels just the softest brush of Spock’s mind against his, a whisper of thoughts that aren’t his own, and the shock of that hits him just as Spock dips down and swallows around him, and suddenly . . .
Jim is coming.
It’s fireworks, supernovas, every stupid tacky cliché he’s ever heard and never quite believed. His entire body feels as though it’s seizing as the pleasure that started out as a tight knot at the base of his spine explodes outward, consuming him. He hears himself saying something, shouting it, and will probably be embarrassed later at the realization that it might have been Spock’s name. Right now, however, he’s focused on the way his entire body seems to have lit up, and the hot mouth milking the last of his release from his softening cock.
He’s completely and utterly spent, as limp and sated as he’d imagined making Spock only hours ago. When Spock’s mouth finds his again Jim barely has the energy to kiss him back; he makes the effort, however, and is rewarded with his own taste mingled with Spock’s on the tongue that sweeps lazily through his mouth. He has the fuzzy, half-formed idea to reciprocate when the kiss breaks and Spock presses his lips to Jim’s forehead.
“It is not necessary,” he murmurs. “You have performed admirably.” That warm body shifts, arms wrapping around him to settle him more comfortably. “Rest now, Jim.”
And he does.
>>Lesson the Second
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: NC-17, like, right away
Disclaimer: I actually had the opportunity to buy the Trek franchise at a garage sale recently, but I waited too long and Paramount got to it first. Drat the luck. Now I own nothing and don't even make any money from this.
A/N: This is still porn. Again, posted at about 1:30 without a read-through, only this time I've been drinking martinis! Um . . . yeah, if you wanted to wait until I actually have a chance to look at it tomorrow, I wouldn't blame you. (Case in point: it just took three tries for me to type "wouldn't" correctly. Yeah.)
Summary: During sex, Jim is so intent on pleasing his partner that he never actually reaches orgasm himself. Spock is out to change all that
“Oh god,” Jim moans at the first brush of Spock’s fingers against his ribs. He’s so on-edge at this point that he feels like he could come just from that, with no more stimulation than Spock’s hands sliding over his skin. Ironically, the thought brings such a knot of terror to his stomach that his erection actually begins to wilt. “Spock, I don’t think this is going to work.”
Spock leans down to place a slow, lingering kiss to Jim’s lips. “You must relax,” he murmurs. “I have already climaxed.” His mouth moves to Jim’s ear, his tongue tracing the outer edge as he gives a little hum of pleasure. “You do not need to be concerned about my needs at the moment. Give yourself over to your own. It can happen as quickly or as slowly as you please; I will not think less of you either way.”
“How . . . wait, are you reading my mind again?” Jim is trying for indignant, but it’s difficult to manage when Spock’s fingers find his nipples. “That’s not . . . ah, I don’t really think that’s f-fair.”
Spock pulls back just far enough to stare down into Jim’s eyes. His hands slide slowly from Jim’s shoulders down his arms; fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, and before he knows it Jim finds that Spock has pinned them above his head.
“I do not believe,” Spock says, his voice so low that it’s nearly a purr, “that I am of a mind to be fair. And you, Jim, will simply have to come to terms with that.”
Spock leans down and runs his tongue over the muscle connecting Jim’s neck and shoulder, drawing forth a shudder before he bites down hard. Jim is aware, even as he cries out and bucks under the rough treatment, that there’s going to be a mark there. He’s pretty sure it’s low enough that his uniform will cover it, but in all honesty he doesn’t think he really cares if it’s not. He can’t, not with Spock’s voice rasping in his ear and a hot, heavy body settling smoothly over his.
“You insist on taking responsibility in every aspect of your life, even when it is not necessary for you to do so. You are not responsible for what happens now, Jim.” He sucks gently at the spot he’s just bitten, as though he isn’t certain there’s going to be a bruise and doesn’t want to take a risk. “You are not in control. Do you understand?”
Jim makes an inarticulate noise and tries to arch up, but he’s more securely pinned than he’s ever been in his life. There’s a part of his mind that’s loudly protesting; it’s the part that got him through his childhood more or less intact, the part that let him make it through Starfleet Academy in three years instead of four, the part that kept him from forming any lasting relationships beyond his friendship with Bones. It’s insisting that he is in control; that he always has to be. That he can’t trust anyone else to take the reins instead. That part of him struggles, tries to push Spock off, to roll them over and take the lead again. Spock holds him down as easily as if Jim were simply lying still, and as his flagging erection takes enthusiastic notice of that fact, the desperate, struggling part of him simply rolls over and goes to sleep. He practically melts into the mattress, and Spock makes an approving noise against his collarbone.
“Very good.” He releases Jim’s wrists, visibly pleased when they stay where he put them. Their mouths meet as Spock begins to run his hands slowly over every part of Jim’s body that he can easily reach. “I will take charge now,” he murmurs against Jim’s lips. “You need only concern yourself with doing as I wish. And what I wish . . .” He twines their fingers together briefly, and the hitch in his breath sounds like music. “What I wish is to watch you come completely undone. Do you think that you can do that for me?”
Jim’s fairly sure if he were anything approaching normal, he’d be well on his way to fulfilling that request just from Spock's words. However, an unsteady, “I’ll try,” is the best he can manage. Luckily, that seems to be enough.
“Very well then. To begin, you must relax.” Spock’s mouth trails across his shoulders as his hands slip lower, sliding between their bodies to brush teasingly against Jim’s cock.
“’S not . . . that easy,” Jim manages to protest.
“Is it not?” Spock shifts lower, lips and tongue sliding over Jim’s chest. “You are able to achieve orgasm through manual self-stimulation, is that correct?”
“Uh . . .” In his current state it takes a while for Jim to translate what Spock just said. “You mean I come when I jerk myself off?” He can feel Spock smirking against his stomach.
“I do believe that is what I said.” Spock’s tongue traces the ridges between Jim’s abdominal muscles, making his stomach quiver helplessly. “Has it not occurred to you that, as a telepath, I would be able to anticipate your needs and desires as easily as you do yourself? That I would be able to manipulate,” said with a firm squeeze of his fingers around Jim’s cock, “your body as easily, as well?”
“Um.” Jim tries to uncross his eyes and breathe normally as Spock continues his slow, torturous trail down Jim’s body. “N-no.”
Spock hums as his tongue dips into Jim’s navel. “I find that difficult to believe. You have, after all, already admitted to imagining how I might behave during sexual intercourse.”
“Yeah, but . . . oh, that’s . . . that’s nice,” he breathes when Spock’s mouth finds his hipbone. It takes some effort to pull his thoughts back in line. “I mostly thought about touching you,” he admits at last.
“I see.” Spock’s breath is hot against Jim’s inner thigh. “Perhaps this will be of assistance when you next feel the need for self-gratification.”
Jim gets no more warning than that before Spock’s mouth finds his cock, a surprisingly rough tongue licking up the underside before he’s engulfed to the root in hot, wet pressure. He actually feels his eyes roll back in his head, and then he can’t spare so much as a second of attention for anything other than the feel of Spock’s mouth on him.
It’s not the first blowjob he’s received, but it’s the first that he hasn’t thought of as a precursor to pleasing someone else, just something to get him hard and wet before he slides into an eager body. Spock is playing him like an instrument, and fuck, fuck, how did it never occur to him how amazing sex with a telepath could be? It’s like touching himself, except his hand has never felt half so good as the mouth that’s wrapped around him. Soft lips and a clever tongue and oh, just the slightest scrape of teeth. It’s something he never would have consciously asked for, but it seems that Spock knows more about what he wants than Jim knows himself. The thought is frightening, but not enough to detract from the unbearable pleasure of whatever it is that Spock is doing with his tongue. He’ll freak out about it later, Jim decides, and tangles his fingers in Spock’s hair.
Jim quickly decides that the best thing-and that’s best out of a host of amazing things too numerous to count-is Spock’s ability to anticipate exactly what he needs at exactly the moment he needs it. His tongue teases just long enough before he pulls Jim back in; the pressure he exerts can skirt the razor-thin border with pain without ever drifting over; his hands and mouth are precisely where Jim wants them before he’s even consciously aware of the need. Each time he retreats too far into his own head Spock’s touch alters just enough to catch him off-guard, and soon he’s lost in sensation again. He’s close now, closer than he’s ever been with another person before. But the closer he gets the more he fears that he won’t be able to manage that final tumble over, and he feels himself tensing again.
But then, so swiftly that Jim wonders if it maybe hasn’t been there all along, Spock’s hand is at his temple. It’s not a full meld; at least, it’s nothing like the riot of information and emotion that he remembers from Delta Vega. He feels just the softest brush of Spock’s mind against his, a whisper of thoughts that aren’t his own, and the shock of that hits him just as Spock dips down and swallows around him, and suddenly . . .
Jim is coming.
It’s fireworks, supernovas, every stupid tacky cliché he’s ever heard and never quite believed. His entire body feels as though it’s seizing as the pleasure that started out as a tight knot at the base of his spine explodes outward, consuming him. He hears himself saying something, shouting it, and will probably be embarrassed later at the realization that it might have been Spock’s name. Right now, however, he’s focused on the way his entire body seems to have lit up, and the hot mouth milking the last of his release from his softening cock.
He’s completely and utterly spent, as limp and sated as he’d imagined making Spock only hours ago. When Spock’s mouth finds his again Jim barely has the energy to kiss him back; he makes the effort, however, and is rewarded with his own taste mingled with Spock’s on the tongue that sweeps lazily through his mouth. He has the fuzzy, half-formed idea to reciprocate when the kiss breaks and Spock presses his lips to Jim’s forehead.
“It is not necessary,” he murmurs. “You have performed admirably.” That warm body shifts, arms wrapping around him to settle him more comfortably. “Rest now, Jim.”
And he does.
>>Lesson the Second