So, my inbox told me Captain Brittany's birthday was Saturday...
And, since she (brittanyksduh, of course) is the Captain and she has not been around lately, I figured it would be good to make her birthday!fic.
The first K/S NC-17 fic I ever read was the first one she ever wrote. So, I decided that I owe her some NC-17-rated sexings. The only issue is that I have never written anything where they ever got explicit. So, Livejournal at large and particularly friendslist, please be gentle on the undoubtedly present cliches and general badness that shall follow.
Title: Desperado
Fandom: ST:TOS
Genre: PWP/First Time/Angst
Pairing: K/S
Summary: "And freedom, oh freedom, that's just some people talkin'/Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone." A.K.A. Spock and Kirk's first time, the night before Spock leaves to pursue kolinahr.
It's not hard to figure out they're in love. In fact, Spock and Jim themselves may have been the last to know. But they know now, tonight, their last night aboard the Enterprise before the adventure is over.
Jim arches into the Vulcan's hands on a bed that's too cramped for this to be comfortable, much less pleasurable. But it's Spock who's touching him, Spock whose hands are on him in ways he barely admits to dreaming about, and that makes up for any physical discomfort that he feels with a feeling of euphoria that nothing else has ever brought him. He reaches blindly, searching for Spock's face in the dimness of the room and the fog of pleasure, and pulls him in for a kiss. Spock's tongue in his mouth is almost better than his hands on his body -- almost, but not quite -- and he moans into the kiss, nearly choking on Spock's tongue.
Spock pulls back a little, just enough to make quick, fumbling work of his pants and Jim's, and Jim has never seen anything more beautiful, more arousing than Spock's hands shaking like this. It brings him back for a moment or two to Spock's first pon farr and he wonders how he didn't know it then that they'd wind up here.
Then, Spock drops back down against him, thrusting with his hips, and something in between a moan and a stutter leaves Jim's lips, the pleasure of this first contact sending electricity up and down his spine, connecting his brain to his cock in the way mankind has done since time immemorial. He arches back, rubbing against Spock from hip to shoulder and keening. If he had anything of his mind left, the noises he's making would embarass him, but now it doesn't make any difference as Spock ruts against him and those hands move up and down his arms, coaxing, almost asking for this.
He lets his own hands slide downward, cupping Spock's ass. One lucid thought interrupts him -- Oh god this is Spock this is Spock -- before he leans up, shoulders coming up off the bed entirely, and he asks, voice cracking, "Spock...Spock, fuck..."
And he should know by now he doesn't need to finish the question, because one of those long and lovely hands snakes between them, fingers curling around his cock and he actually whimpers. He wants this, and more than this, and has for what seems like far too long now that he knows that they could've been doing this for months, years even. Spock makes a noise that he can't hope to ever imitate, and that's quite possibly the best of it so far, that alienness that he could sometimes forget, that asserted itself at the strangest times.
He decides to try something, or, rather, his body tries something, because he's not thinking right now at all. He reaches to Spock's other hand, stroking it with two fingers, shaking as he draws them up and down and then across the knuckles.
Spock outright gasps, and his eyes roll back in his head for a second before he thrusts again, between Jim's thigh and his dick, hips stuttering in the way that Jim knows means Do that again from more experience than he'd care to relate, especially with Spock above him and setting him on fire with body heat and fierce lust.
It doesn't take long for them both to get off like that, freezing in time for a moment as warm stickiness coats their stomachs and probably ruins the bedsheets.
Spock's eyes meet his, and there's something in them that Jim can't name, as the lust begins to drain away. The Vulcan sits up, looking vulnerable, naked in more ways than one. So Jim sits up with him, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. There's a scar there, and he's not sure how it came to exist, but now it's just part of Spock, Spock who's nothing but beautiful in so many different ways.
But Spock tenses up when Jim's lips brush his skin, and he pulls away, quickly, and as if burned. He gathers his clothes, putting them on faster than Jim has ever seen another being do so, and he leaves Jim alone in his quarters.
Jim thinks he sees shame in his eyes.
[end]
Author's Note: Well, I hope that didn't suck too horribly. And I just had to mention Nimoy's jaw scars, because they strike me as something Jim would notice through a post-orgasmic fog. And, apparently, Vulcans don't do that whole afterglow thing. Sorry about that...