Lesson the Second (Part 3 of the Teach Me Tonight series)
Title: 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: Kickin' it up a notch here. This part is also quite a bit longer (read: almost twice as long) on account of someone not wanting to get his lazy Vulcan ass in gear. Hmph. Still unabashed porn, despite the plot that tried to sneak its way in. No excuse for not reading through it this time, beyond my own laziness and wanting to get this posted before I go to bed in preparation for my early day tomorrow. Sorry.
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.
It’s been three days since Jim woke alone in Spock’s bed.
It’s not like it’s a huge deal. Spock had been on Alpha shift, and Jim hadn’t been on until Beta. And it wasn’t as though either of them had made any promises. After all, he’d pretty much just burst into Spock’s quarters and jumped him; that’s not the sort of thing that starts off an actual relationship. Which Jim isn’t saying he wants. Just . . .
Damn it, he just really hates waking up alone, that’s all
He’d been more than a little afraid of returning to the awkward uncertainty that had characterized their hesitant attempts at friendship at the beginning of their mission. Jim would never have forgiven himself if that had happened, if he had thrown away over a year of the most fulfilling friendship he’d ever had for the sake of a single-admittedly rather spectacular-fuck. But to his surprise Spock hasn’t been awkward at all, hasn’t attempted to avoid him, as Jim had half expected. Once or twice he’s thought he’s caught Spock looking at him as though he were about to speak. Each time, though, it’s been purely ship’s business, and Jim hasn’t tried to press.
He’d been a bit surprised when Spock suggested a chess game that night, but had gladly accepted, eager to keep things on-track between them. And while he’ll fully admit that his attention for the first half of the game was more focused on Spock’s hands as he moved his pieces than on strategy, he’s managed to rally at the end. He still loses, yes, but by a much less embarrassing margin.
“Good game, Spock,” Jim says easily even as he tips over his king in defeat. “Up for a rematch?”
Spock is studying him over steepled fingers. “You seem much more relaxed than you have been lately, Jim.”
“Well . . .” Jim blinks. “Yeah, maybe I am.” He grins. “I guess your kicking my ass at chess is comforting. I probably don’t want to think too much about what that says about me.”
Spock’s lips twitch. “Then, if you are suitably at ease, I believe that we may continue your lessons.” He stands. “Remove your clothing, please.”
“What?” It’s only through a considerable application of will that he manages to keep his jaw from literally dropping open. He’s aware that he’s staring bug-eyed at Spock, and it feels as if every last one of his muscles has frozen in place. “Please,” he finally manages to rasp. “Give me some clue as to whether or not you’re joking,” he says, but Spock is already pulling his own uniform shirt over his head. “Um.” Jim can’t help the way his eyes drink in the sight of Spock dressed in nothing but tight, clinging black. He swallows heavily. “Good clue.”
Spock stares down at him, his head cocked curiously. “Would you prefer for me to undress you myself?”
Jim’s mouth goes dry. Despite enthusiastic agreement from select portions of his anatomy, he knows he needs to put a stop to this. Feeling at a distinct disadvantage with Spock looming over him, he stands on slightly shaky legs.
“Enough, Spock.” His voice, at least, is steady, and he takes a moment to give a silent thanks to whatever deity managed that. “I . . . appreciate what, ah . . . what you did for me the other night. But this isn’t necessary.”
“Oh?” Spock raises an eyebrow and pauses with his hands at the hem of his undershirt. “May I request a clarification of that statement?”
“Look, whatever you did to me did the trick, okay?” Jim makes a concentrated effort to keep his eyes on Spock’s face instead of letting them wander. “I’m all better now; I don’t need you to fix me anymore.”
Spock looks almost amused. “Jim,” he says, “if you were capable of understanding your own needs then we would never have found ourselves in this situation to begin with.”
“I know I don’t need a pity fuck,” Jim snaps, and Spock goes still.
“I see.” He takes a cautious step closer. “I regret that I have given you that impression. You may rest assured, however, that pity is not one of the several emotions that you engender in me.”
Jim snorts. “You’re admitting to feeling emotions now, are you?”
“Indeed.” Jim catches his breath as Spock moves closer still and his eyes rake over Jim’s body in naked hunger. “Some emotions are . . . undeniable. Even for a Vulcan.”
“Yeah?” Jim’s heart is in his throat, but he tilts his chin up in blatant challenge. “Like what?”
Which is when Spock growls-fucking growls-and brings his mouth crashing down over Jim’s. The kiss is rough and desperate as they both fight for dominance. It takes Spock’s hand fisting in Jim’s hair, forcing his head back so that Spock can plunder his mouth at will, for Jim to finally relax and allow Spock to lead again. Spock makes that growling sound again, this time sounding pleased with Jim’s submission to him.
“Jim,” he breathes against his mouth, “if you do not remove your clothing in the next thirty seconds, I will be forced to remove them myself. And I can not guarantee that they will retain their structural integrity.”
Jim’s pulse skips. “Did you just threaten to tear my clothes off?”
“You are overly fond of attempting to get me to repeat myself.” Spock kisses him again. “And you now have twenty seconds.”
Part of Jim really, really wants to call Spock’s bluff. Except that he’s not entirely sure he is bluffing, and while the idea may be unbearably sexy in theory, a torn uniform is much easier to explain to Requisitions in the context of an away mission than a quiet night in his quarters. So he steps reluctantly out of Spock’s arms and begins to strip with such haste that he almost trips himself stepping out of his pants. He’s completely naked by the time Spock has his shirt off, and his moan when their bare chests press together is swallowed by another hungry kiss.
Spock presses him back towards the bed, and with a small shove sends Jim tumbling down onto his back. His breath explodes out of him as he bounces from the impact; Spock doesn’t give him a chance to get it back before he’s crawling over him, hands and mouth seemingly everywhere at once. Jim takes a moment to simply enjoy the sensations, trembling as Spock unerringly manages to find the most sensitive spots on his body, before he reaches down to fumble with the fastenings of Spock’s trousers. His hands are seized almost immediately, and Jim groans in protest.
“Spock.” His hands restrained, he makes do with arching against the body above his, gratified when he hears Spock’s breath hitch. “I’m feeling really underdressed here.”
“I find that I am rather enjoying the disparity,” Spock says, and bites lazily at Jim’s neck. “I shall remain partially clothed for now.”
“Come on.” Jim’s nerves, which had been blessedly absent until now, begin to reappear. “I can’t get you off with your pants still on. Well,” he amends, “I can, but it won’t be nearly as fun.”
“I do not require climax at this time.” Spock stretches Jim’s arms above his head and pins both hands with one of his, freeing the other to slide teasingly over hypersensitive skin. He trails kisses up to Jim’s jaw. “Has anyone ever told you that your ears are quite attractive?” he murmurs, and sucks the lobe into his mouth.
“Ah. Um. N-no, not that I can remember.” Jim squirms a bit but only manages to grind his hips against Spock’s, prompting an approving sort of purr from the Vulcan. “Hey. Let me touch you.”
“Mmm.” Spock grinds their hips together again. “No. You will attempt to bring me to orgasm.”
“Uh . . . yeah?” Jim’s confusion is not helped by the way Spock’s fingers are playing almost absently with one of his nipples, sending bolts of pleasure straight to his cock. “That’s sort of the idea, isn’t it? Worked pretty well last time.”
“That it did.” Spock kisses him, slow and deep. “However, the purpose of tonight’s lesson is to help you accept that you are not always required to ensure your partner’s pleasure before your own. It does not matter which one of us climaxes first; I promise to ensure that we are both satisfied.” He rocks his hips again, and Jim’s eyes threaten to cross. “Ah,” Spock says, as though he has just remembered, “if you are averse to penetrative sex I would advise you to inform me now. I would very much like to come inside of you tonight.”
And that’s all Jim can take. The idea of Spock inside of him, moving in him, using Jim’s body for his own pleasure . . . if Spock wants to take control, so be it.
“No,” he moans out. “Not averse.”
When Spock kisses him this time it’s as though he’s trying to fuse their mouths together, and Jim utterly gives himself over to it. “I am . . . gratified,” Spock manages after a moment. “If I release your hands,” he continues between kisses, “will you promise to behave?”
“Yes,” Jim says quickly, trying to project as much sincerity as possible through his thoughts. “Yes, I promise, but please, I want to touch you. I need to.”
Spock releases him without another word, and Jim’s hands immediately fly to his face to pull him in for another kiss. He can’t keep still, however; his fingers drift over Spock’s jaw, down to his shoulders, back up again to stroke at the points of his ears. It doesn’t last nearly long enough before Spock pulls back with a groan and reaches into a pocket to pull out a small bottle of oil. Jim grins wickedly as it lands with a thump beside his hip.
“And here I thought you were just happy to see me.” Spock lifts a quizzical eyebrow, and he shakes his head. “Just a joke. Never mind, just . . . get back down here.”
Spock complies, trailing his tongue across Jim’s chest to the spot over his ribs that no one else has ever managed to find, the one that makes his toes curl and his back arch. He loses himself in the sensation, floating on the pleasure that Spock is calling forth with such amazing ease until that hot mouth finds his cock again and makes him cry out. It starts out slower this time, all lips and tongue and a strong hand slowly stroking him until he’s half-mad with it. Each one of Spock’s touches is just shy of perfect, just this side of exactly what Jim needs, and Jim can’t even manage to be embarrassed at the whimper that escapes him as he tries to lift his hips off the bed.
“Spock, please.” He’s begging, and he doesn’t even care because damn it, he knows exactly just how good this can be, and he wants that so much he thinks he might die from it. He tries to arch up again, but he’s held down with almost insulting ease. “What happened to . . . oh shit . . . to being able to tell exactly what I need?”
“My telepathy is functioning adequately,” Spock says, and his breath ghosts across Jim’s wet cock in a way that makes a whine catch at the back of his throat. “However, it is illogical to assume that because I am able to do so I necessarily will.” He licks another long, torturous stripe up the underside of Jim’s cock. “I find that I quite enjoy teasing you.”
“You’re evil,” Jim groans, throwing an arm over his eyes only to remove it an instant later in order to prop himself up and watch. “You’re evil and I hate you.”
“That is not true.” Spock scrapes his teeth lightly over the tender skin at the top of Jim’s inner thigh. “You are quite fond of me.”
“Stupid telepath,” Jim mutters, and drops back down.
He’s nearly out of his mind with lust when he feels something slick and warm pressing against his entrance; he barely has time to register it before Spock swallows him down with no warning at the same instant that his finger pushes inside of Jim’s body. A tortured, strangled noise is all that Jim can manage. Spock begins to bob his head slowly up and down, his finger thrusting in and out to the same rhythm. Jim’s mind starts to fracture when Spock adds a second finger, twisting them just so until they graze lightly against Jim’s prostate. Everything begins to blur together-Spock’s mouth working over him; hot fingers stretching him open, needy groans reverberating against his cock when he clenches around them; silky hair brushing lightly against his stomach.
Jim has a moment to catch his breath when Spock moves away, though he’s mostly focused on trying to pull him back down. He relents when he sees that Spock is stripping off the rest of his clothes, and makes a needy noise when he sees the fingers that were just inside of him wrap briefly around his erection, squeezing hard just beneath the second ridge. Then Spock is back, kneeling between Jim’s legs and kissing him breathless again even as he lifts Jim’s hips to rest atop his thighs.
It’s been quite a while since Jim has done this, and he grits his teeth against the familiar burn when Spock pushes into him. It eases, however, with every slow, careful movement of Spock’s hips, and soon enough he’s rocking eagerly against him.
Good, so good, and even better when Spock presses Jim’s legs farther towards his chest and the new angle has him hitting Jim’s prostate with each thrust. Spock is breathing heavily, tiny grunts and moans falling from parted lips as he stares down at Jim through eyes grown black with lust. Jim wants more of that, wants to see Spock lose control, and he puts all of his focus into making that happen. He clenches his muscles and Spock’s hips snap helplessly forward, but then immediately slow until he’s almost not moving at all.
“Focus on what you are feeling,” he says roughly, swiping his tongue across Jim’s lips. “Believe me, it will take no extra effort for me to climax this way.”
“I don’t . . .” Jim tries to relax, to let go, but shakes his head helplessly a moment later. “I don’t know if I can.” He looks up at Spock, nervous. Then he reaches down to peel one of Spock’s hands away from his hip, delighting in the heat that flares in the Vulcan’s eyes when their fingers twine together. “Would you?” he asks, and though he knows that Spock will understand what he means, brings their joined hands to his temple. “Last time . . . it was good. Helped.”
Spock stares at him for a long moment, so long in fact that Jim wonders if maybe he’s done something very wrong. Then a visible shiver runs through that long frame, and Spock exhales a shaky breath.
“If you wish it,” he says unsteadily, and Jim takes his hand away to let Spock’s fingers settle into place.
“I do. And for fuck’s sake, move,” he groans.
Spock’s mind brushes against his as he begins to thrust again, harder and faster than before, and the joined sensations are nearly overwhelming. He can feel Spock’s need, his desire as clearly as he feels his body, and he suddenly knows that Spock desperately wants to see Jim touch himself. That seems like an excellent idea, and Jim reaches down without hesitation to tug and pull at his cock. Spock’s pleasure blazes through his mind like fire, and a final thrust pushes him over the edge, his blood burning as orgasm overtakes him. It’s almost impossibly intense, his own release spilling out onto his hand and stomach just seconds before Spock empties himself with a hoarse cry.
Jim must have drifted off for a moment, because when he drags his eyes back open Spock is nearly finished wiping him clean with a warm, wet cloth. Jim pulls him down for a lazy kiss, and Spock goes willingly.
“God.” Jim rests his forehead against Spock’s, enjoying the simple closeness in the afterglow. “I’d say I’ve never felt anything like that before, but you already know that. Still.” He breathes out a shaky laugh. “That was fucking incredible, whatever it was.”
“Our minds were linked. Through that, we were able to feel echoes of each other’s pleasure.”
“Huh. Damn, that’s a neat trick.” Jim stretches lazily, basking in the heat from Spock’s body.
Spock shifts to one side and hesitates. “Would it be acceptable for me to stay here tonight?” he asks stiffly. “We are both scheduled for Alpha shift, so the disruption to your schedule should be minimal.”
Jim relaxes against the mattress and grins up at him. “Yeah, that’d be good.” He wriggles until he manages to shove the blankets down and slide beneath them. “C’mon. You gonna be warm enough?”
“An adjustment of five degrees would be sufficient, and most appreciated,” Spock says graciously, slipping beneath the covers as well.
“Bit of a tight fit,” Jim remarks, but he’s smiling when he says it. He’s already drifting off as Spock adjusts the environmental controls, and in the interest of conserving space he settles his back firmly against a warm chest. “Hey, Spock?” he remembers just before sleep claims him.
“Yes, Jim?”
“Don’t make me wait three days again.”
>>Here Endeth the Lesson
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: Kickin' it up a notch here. This part is also quite a bit longer (read: almost twice as long) on account of someone not wanting to get his lazy Vulcan ass in gear. Hmph. Still unabashed porn, despite the plot that tried to sneak its way in. No excuse for not reading through it this time, beyond my own laziness and wanting to get this posted before I go to bed in preparation for my early day tomorrow. Sorry.
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.
It’s been three days since Jim woke alone in Spock’s bed.
It’s not like it’s a huge deal. Spock had been on Alpha shift, and Jim hadn’t been on until Beta. And it wasn’t as though either of them had made any promises. After all, he’d pretty much just burst into Spock’s quarters and jumped him; that’s not the sort of thing that starts off an actual relationship. Which Jim isn’t saying he wants. Just . . .
Damn it, he just really hates waking up alone, that’s all
He’d been more than a little afraid of returning to the awkward uncertainty that had characterized their hesitant attempts at friendship at the beginning of their mission. Jim would never have forgiven himself if that had happened, if he had thrown away over a year of the most fulfilling friendship he’d ever had for the sake of a single-admittedly rather spectacular-fuck. But to his surprise Spock hasn’t been awkward at all, hasn’t attempted to avoid him, as Jim had half expected. Once or twice he’s thought he’s caught Spock looking at him as though he were about to speak. Each time, though, it’s been purely ship’s business, and Jim hasn’t tried to press.
He’d been a bit surprised when Spock suggested a chess game that night, but had gladly accepted, eager to keep things on-track between them. And while he’ll fully admit that his attention for the first half of the game was more focused on Spock’s hands as he moved his pieces than on strategy, he’s managed to rally at the end. He still loses, yes, but by a much less embarrassing margin.
“Good game, Spock,” Jim says easily even as he tips over his king in defeat. “Up for a rematch?”
Spock is studying him over steepled fingers. “You seem much more relaxed than you have been lately, Jim.”
“Well . . .” Jim blinks. “Yeah, maybe I am.” He grins. “I guess your kicking my ass at chess is comforting. I probably don’t want to think too much about what that says about me.”
Spock’s lips twitch. “Then, if you are suitably at ease, I believe that we may continue your lessons.” He stands. “Remove your clothing, please.”
“What?” It’s only through a considerable application of will that he manages to keep his jaw from literally dropping open. He’s aware that he’s staring bug-eyed at Spock, and it feels as if every last one of his muscles has frozen in place. “Please,” he finally manages to rasp. “Give me some clue as to whether or not you’re joking,” he says, but Spock is already pulling his own uniform shirt over his head. “Um.” Jim can’t help the way his eyes drink in the sight of Spock dressed in nothing but tight, clinging black. He swallows heavily. “Good clue.”
Spock stares down at him, his head cocked curiously. “Would you prefer for me to undress you myself?”
Jim’s mouth goes dry. Despite enthusiastic agreement from select portions of his anatomy, he knows he needs to put a stop to this. Feeling at a distinct disadvantage with Spock looming over him, he stands on slightly shaky legs.
“Enough, Spock.” His voice, at least, is steady, and he takes a moment to give a silent thanks to whatever deity managed that. “I . . . appreciate what, ah . . . what you did for me the other night. But this isn’t necessary.”
“Oh?” Spock raises an eyebrow and pauses with his hands at the hem of his undershirt. “May I request a clarification of that statement?”
“Look, whatever you did to me did the trick, okay?” Jim makes a concentrated effort to keep his eyes on Spock’s face instead of letting them wander. “I’m all better now; I don’t need you to fix me anymore.”
Spock looks almost amused. “Jim,” he says, “if you were capable of understanding your own needs then we would never have found ourselves in this situation to begin with.”
“I know I don’t need a pity fuck,” Jim snaps, and Spock goes still.
“I see.” He takes a cautious step closer. “I regret that I have given you that impression. You may rest assured, however, that pity is not one of the several emotions that you engender in me.”
Jim snorts. “You’re admitting to feeling emotions now, are you?”
“Indeed.” Jim catches his breath as Spock moves closer still and his eyes rake over Jim’s body in naked hunger. “Some emotions are . . . undeniable. Even for a Vulcan.”
“Yeah?” Jim’s heart is in his throat, but he tilts his chin up in blatant challenge. “Like what?”
Which is when Spock growls-fucking growls-and brings his mouth crashing down over Jim’s. The kiss is rough and desperate as they both fight for dominance. It takes Spock’s hand fisting in Jim’s hair, forcing his head back so that Spock can plunder his mouth at will, for Jim to finally relax and allow Spock to lead again. Spock makes that growling sound again, this time sounding pleased with Jim’s submission to him.
“Jim,” he breathes against his mouth, “if you do not remove your clothing in the next thirty seconds, I will be forced to remove them myself. And I can not guarantee that they will retain their structural integrity.”
Jim’s pulse skips. “Did you just threaten to tear my clothes off?”
“You are overly fond of attempting to get me to repeat myself.” Spock kisses him again. “And you now have twenty seconds.”
Part of Jim really, really wants to call Spock’s bluff. Except that he’s not entirely sure he is bluffing, and while the idea may be unbearably sexy in theory, a torn uniform is much easier to explain to Requisitions in the context of an away mission than a quiet night in his quarters. So he steps reluctantly out of Spock’s arms and begins to strip with such haste that he almost trips himself stepping out of his pants. He’s completely naked by the time Spock has his shirt off, and his moan when their bare chests press together is swallowed by another hungry kiss.
Spock presses him back towards the bed, and with a small shove sends Jim tumbling down onto his back. His breath explodes out of him as he bounces from the impact; Spock doesn’t give him a chance to get it back before he’s crawling over him, hands and mouth seemingly everywhere at once. Jim takes a moment to simply enjoy the sensations, trembling as Spock unerringly manages to find the most sensitive spots on his body, before he reaches down to fumble with the fastenings of Spock’s trousers. His hands are seized almost immediately, and Jim groans in protest.
“Spock.” His hands restrained, he makes do with arching against the body above his, gratified when he hears Spock’s breath hitch. “I’m feeling really underdressed here.”
“I find that I am rather enjoying the disparity,” Spock says, and bites lazily at Jim’s neck. “I shall remain partially clothed for now.”
“Come on.” Jim’s nerves, which had been blessedly absent until now, begin to reappear. “I can’t get you off with your pants still on. Well,” he amends, “I can, but it won’t be nearly as fun.”
“I do not require climax at this time.” Spock stretches Jim’s arms above his head and pins both hands with one of his, freeing the other to slide teasingly over hypersensitive skin. He trails kisses up to Jim’s jaw. “Has anyone ever told you that your ears are quite attractive?” he murmurs, and sucks the lobe into his mouth.
“Ah. Um. N-no, not that I can remember.” Jim squirms a bit but only manages to grind his hips against Spock’s, prompting an approving sort of purr from the Vulcan. “Hey. Let me touch you.”
“Mmm.” Spock grinds their hips together again. “No. You will attempt to bring me to orgasm.”
“Uh . . . yeah?” Jim’s confusion is not helped by the way Spock’s fingers are playing almost absently with one of his nipples, sending bolts of pleasure straight to his cock. “That’s sort of the idea, isn’t it? Worked pretty well last time.”
“That it did.” Spock kisses him, slow and deep. “However, the purpose of tonight’s lesson is to help you accept that you are not always required to ensure your partner’s pleasure before your own. It does not matter which one of us climaxes first; I promise to ensure that we are both satisfied.” He rocks his hips again, and Jim’s eyes threaten to cross. “Ah,” Spock says, as though he has just remembered, “if you are averse to penetrative sex I would advise you to inform me now. I would very much like to come inside of you tonight.”
And that’s all Jim can take. The idea of Spock inside of him, moving in him, using Jim’s body for his own pleasure . . . if Spock wants to take control, so be it.
“No,” he moans out. “Not averse.”
When Spock kisses him this time it’s as though he’s trying to fuse their mouths together, and Jim utterly gives himself over to it. “I am . . . gratified,” Spock manages after a moment. “If I release your hands,” he continues between kisses, “will you promise to behave?”
“Yes,” Jim says quickly, trying to project as much sincerity as possible through his thoughts. “Yes, I promise, but please, I want to touch you. I need to.”
Spock releases him without another word, and Jim’s hands immediately fly to his face to pull him in for another kiss. He can’t keep still, however; his fingers drift over Spock’s jaw, down to his shoulders, back up again to stroke at the points of his ears. It doesn’t last nearly long enough before Spock pulls back with a groan and reaches into a pocket to pull out a small bottle of oil. Jim grins wickedly as it lands with a thump beside his hip.
“And here I thought you were just happy to see me.” Spock lifts a quizzical eyebrow, and he shakes his head. “Just a joke. Never mind, just . . . get back down here.”
Spock complies, trailing his tongue across Jim’s chest to the spot over his ribs that no one else has ever managed to find, the one that makes his toes curl and his back arch. He loses himself in the sensation, floating on the pleasure that Spock is calling forth with such amazing ease until that hot mouth finds his cock again and makes him cry out. It starts out slower this time, all lips and tongue and a strong hand slowly stroking him until he’s half-mad with it. Each one of Spock’s touches is just shy of perfect, just this side of exactly what Jim needs, and Jim can’t even manage to be embarrassed at the whimper that escapes him as he tries to lift his hips off the bed.
“Spock, please.” He’s begging, and he doesn’t even care because damn it, he knows exactly just how good this can be, and he wants that so much he thinks he might die from it. He tries to arch up again, but he’s held down with almost insulting ease. “What happened to . . . oh shit . . . to being able to tell exactly what I need?”
“My telepathy is functioning adequately,” Spock says, and his breath ghosts across Jim’s wet cock in a way that makes a whine catch at the back of his throat. “However, it is illogical to assume that because I am able to do so I necessarily will.” He licks another long, torturous stripe up the underside of Jim’s cock. “I find that I quite enjoy teasing you.”
“You’re evil,” Jim groans, throwing an arm over his eyes only to remove it an instant later in order to prop himself up and watch. “You’re evil and I hate you.”
“That is not true.” Spock scrapes his teeth lightly over the tender skin at the top of Jim’s inner thigh. “You are quite fond of me.”
“Stupid telepath,” Jim mutters, and drops back down.
He’s nearly out of his mind with lust when he feels something slick and warm pressing against his entrance; he barely has time to register it before Spock swallows him down with no warning at the same instant that his finger pushes inside of Jim’s body. A tortured, strangled noise is all that Jim can manage. Spock begins to bob his head slowly up and down, his finger thrusting in and out to the same rhythm. Jim’s mind starts to fracture when Spock adds a second finger, twisting them just so until they graze lightly against Jim’s prostate. Everything begins to blur together-Spock’s mouth working over him; hot fingers stretching him open, needy groans reverberating against his cock when he clenches around them; silky hair brushing lightly against his stomach.
Jim has a moment to catch his breath when Spock moves away, though he’s mostly focused on trying to pull him back down. He relents when he sees that Spock is stripping off the rest of his clothes, and makes a needy noise when he sees the fingers that were just inside of him wrap briefly around his erection, squeezing hard just beneath the second ridge. Then Spock is back, kneeling between Jim’s legs and kissing him breathless again even as he lifts Jim’s hips to rest atop his thighs.
It’s been quite a while since Jim has done this, and he grits his teeth against the familiar burn when Spock pushes into him. It eases, however, with every slow, careful movement of Spock’s hips, and soon enough he’s rocking eagerly against him.
Good, so good, and even better when Spock presses Jim’s legs farther towards his chest and the new angle has him hitting Jim’s prostate with each thrust. Spock is breathing heavily, tiny grunts and moans falling from parted lips as he stares down at Jim through eyes grown black with lust. Jim wants more of that, wants to see Spock lose control, and he puts all of his focus into making that happen. He clenches his muscles and Spock’s hips snap helplessly forward, but then immediately slow until he’s almost not moving at all.
“Focus on what you are feeling,” he says roughly, swiping his tongue across Jim’s lips. “Believe me, it will take no extra effort for me to climax this way.”
“I don’t . . .” Jim tries to relax, to let go, but shakes his head helplessly a moment later. “I don’t know if I can.” He looks up at Spock, nervous. Then he reaches down to peel one of Spock’s hands away from his hip, delighting in the heat that flares in the Vulcan’s eyes when their fingers twine together. “Would you?” he asks, and though he knows that Spock will understand what he means, brings their joined hands to his temple. “Last time . . . it was good. Helped.”
Spock stares at him for a long moment, so long in fact that Jim wonders if maybe he’s done something very wrong. Then a visible shiver runs through that long frame, and Spock exhales a shaky breath.
“If you wish it,” he says unsteadily, and Jim takes his hand away to let Spock’s fingers settle into place.
“I do. And for fuck’s sake, move,” he groans.
Spock’s mind brushes against his as he begins to thrust again, harder and faster than before, and the joined sensations are nearly overwhelming. He can feel Spock’s need, his desire as clearly as he feels his body, and he suddenly knows that Spock desperately wants to see Jim touch himself. That seems like an excellent idea, and Jim reaches down without hesitation to tug and pull at his cock. Spock’s pleasure blazes through his mind like fire, and a final thrust pushes him over the edge, his blood burning as orgasm overtakes him. It’s almost impossibly intense, his own release spilling out onto his hand and stomach just seconds before Spock empties himself with a hoarse cry.
Jim must have drifted off for a moment, because when he drags his eyes back open Spock is nearly finished wiping him clean with a warm, wet cloth. Jim pulls him down for a lazy kiss, and Spock goes willingly.
“God.” Jim rests his forehead against Spock’s, enjoying the simple closeness in the afterglow. “I’d say I’ve never felt anything like that before, but you already know that. Still.” He breathes out a shaky laugh. “That was fucking incredible, whatever it was.”
“Our minds were linked. Through that, we were able to feel echoes of each other’s pleasure.”
“Huh. Damn, that’s a neat trick.” Jim stretches lazily, basking in the heat from Spock’s body.
Spock shifts to one side and hesitates. “Would it be acceptable for me to stay here tonight?” he asks stiffly. “We are both scheduled for Alpha shift, so the disruption to your schedule should be minimal.”
Jim relaxes against the mattress and grins up at him. “Yeah, that’d be good.” He wriggles until he manages to shove the blankets down and slide beneath them. “C’mon. You gonna be warm enough?”
“An adjustment of five degrees would be sufficient, and most appreciated,” Spock says graciously, slipping beneath the covers as well.
“Bit of a tight fit,” Jim remarks, but he’s smiling when he says it. He’s already drifting off as Spock adjusts the environmental controls, and in the interest of conserving space he settles his back firmly against a warm chest. “Hey, Spock?” he remembers just before sleep claims him.
“Yes, Jim?”
“Don’t make me wait three days again.”
>>Here Endeth the Lesson