Round Two: Pinch Hit for roseganymede
Title: Pre and Post-Pubescence
Written for: roseganymede
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/Spock; Unrequited Chekov => Spock
Summary: Chekov is crushing on Spock. Kirk does not approve of this for a variety of reasons.
Warnings: Language, Oral sex (read: facefucking), puppylove, and pillow talk.
It was all just puberty. Fucking puberty, and it’d be over soon.
At least, that was what Jim had to keep telling himself. Chekov was bypassing his work in favor of ogling Spock again, and really, it had been funny at first. Of all the people for him to like - Spock? It put a whole new definition on ‘hormone laden’, as far as Jim was concerned.
Still, it was rather odd. Whereas Jim’s teenage years had included reckless behavior (in abundance), promiscuity, a general disdain for commitment, alcohol, several attempts at emancipation, a motorcycle, and one horribly misguided and humiliating incident involving a tattoo parlor and three hits off a drug illegal even on Risa, Chekov’s pubescence seemed filled with flowers and adoration and mathematics and other absurd things. The strongest intoxicant he seemed interested in was theoretical warp drive mechanics (which yeah, if you thought too much about could make your head spin in ways even Udura root couldn’t, but still), and instead of getting into shouting matches with his parents, he seemed more prone to file complaints about the voice recognition features of the ship.
Yes, Chekov in puberty was an interesting sight to behold, if only because of how disappointing it was. But once he’d started making eyes at Spock, that was it. No longer interesting. Just irritating.
And it had been going on for three weeks.
He considered going to Bones, but even he couldn’t cure puberty. It’d probably end with a shouting match, another unnecessary round of vaccinations, or, if he was lucky, Chapel starting a betting pot on how long the ‘puppy love’ would last. And he’d probably have to file a report about why he was ordering any medical testing or treatment on a healthy teenage boy (which he would totally do, except he’d have to give reason, and apparently ‘he’s crushing on my secret lover’ was not an acceptable one).
On the plus side, Spock seemed blissfully ignorant to the tumultuous romance Chekov seemed to be pushing for. If he knew the boy was at all attracted to him, he didn’t let it on. There hadn’t been a single change in his work or disposition, and Jim was thankful for that.
The little things. Just the little things.
“Commander Spock,” Chekov called over, just as Jim was getting himself under control. Spock rose diligently, walking to the boy’s station. Jesus, was the kid blushing? It took everything Jim had not to smack his forehead. “I’ve found some sort of anomaly. Would you look at it?”
Jeez, that sounded like something Jim’d say as a sleezy pick up line while having drinks with a sexy physicist. In fact, he was pretty sure he had said that to a sexy physicist once, but it could’ve just as easily been a mathematician. All his pre-Enterprise hookups were starting to run together.
Either way, it didn’t matter now, not with Spock leaning in to look at whatever Chekov had found while the kid in question fidgeted quietly. When Spock pulled back, he stared up at his face.
“I believe that is a trace of the Delphic expanse,” he informed him. “Areas of abnormality in space exist even now stemming from that expanse. They are to be charted and reported to Starfleet. A very good find, Ensign.”
Jesus, the utter elation on the teenager’s face from the simple compliment left a sour taste in Jim’s mouth. As the boy set to work, he checked the time. Four minutes left on their shift.
“Mr. Spock,” he said, causing Spock to turn back to him on his way back to his station. The Vulcan approached, eyebrow quirked. Once he was close enough that no one else could hear, Jim murmured, “come with me after shift.”
Spock gave him a look, but nodded all the same. The next few minutes were spent in quiet, and the second shift was up, Jim stood, clearing his throat. Spock followed him into the lift, and within minutes they were in his quarters.
“Is there something I can do for you, Sir?” Spock asked. Fuck, he knew exactly what he could do for him.
“Kiss me, Spock,” he ordered. Spock immediately complied, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together. Jim locked his hands around the taller man’s head, pulling him closer and kissing him more fiercely, tongue lashing out and probing for entrance. It was granted immediately.
Jim was all too aware of his arousal, his cock already half-hard and adrenalin running through him.
Spock was his. Fucking his.
Spock must’ve caught that through his telepathy, because he outright shuddered, bucking his hips against Jim’s. Jim pressed back with an insistent grind, moving his hands down to cup Spock’s ass while he continued to suck and bit Spock’s tongue.
They had barely pulled away from the kiss before Spock was sinking to his knees, hands scrabbling at the fastenings of Jim’s trousers. There was a desperate need to his actions, like he couldn’t get to Jim’s cock quickly enough. When at last they were open, he yanked them curtly to his thighs, swallowing him down in one motion.
Jesus, Spock was good at this.
Jim reached out to hold Spock’s head in place as his throat relaxed further, signaling undeniably what he wanted him to do. He pumped his hips once, confirming anyway, and when Spock’s eyes fixed on his, he couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to.
He fucked Spock’s mouth with harsh, even strokes, like he could imbed himself into the other man indelibly, like he could leave some evidence to keep anyone from ever looking at him with romance or lust in their gaze. Like he could somehow put himself into Spock’s head forever, reminding him who he belonged to and what he got to do with him.
He heard the sound of a zipper, but he ignored it, bucking into Spock’s mouth over and over, angling his jaw better and sinking deeper with each thrust. The heat and wetness and utter submission - he wasn’t going to last much longer. And then Spock swallowed around him, and it was all over. He thrust himself as deep as he could, pouring himself down the man’s throat with a heady groan.
Spock took it all, and when he pulled out, he could see Spock had pulled out his own cock at some point, and he was jerking at it frantically, eyes fixed on Jim. He had both hands going at once, panting feverishly and moaning when Jim grabbed one hand, bending to take the first and middle fingers into his mouth.
Spock came hard, then, and with a wail Jim could never have imagined him making before they’d started their relationship. His eyes stayed open through the whole thing, watching Jim smile around his fingers and give them one final lick. That elicited the most delicious shudder out of the Vulcan.
“Fucking amazing,” Jim muttered, dropping to his knees and locking his mouth Spock’s.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Spock apparently didn’t get the idea of a ‘possessive fuck’. Two days later, Chekov was following Spock around like a puppy, and he didn’t even try to stop him. Jim had heard at least three ensigns comment on how ‘cute’ it was, and he was seriously reconsidering the idea of going to Bones to make him do something - maybe he could put Chekov in a coma for a few years. It wouldn’t hurt him. And when he woke up, puberty would be OVER.
There was probably a regulation about that.
But still, something seemed different than an ordinary crush. Chekov seemed content just to be around Spock, occasionally making up some ridiculous question, sure, but mostly just following him around. It was bizarre and creepy.
And it was familiar. But he couldn’t place it.
“Commander Spock,” he heard Chekov say, and he tuned in again. Spock turned to face him. “I’ve seen you playing chess before with the captain. I haven’t had a chance to play in a long time, and I was wondering if you would play with me.”
The last bit of it came out in a rush, but the invitation was pretty clear. Spock raised an eyebrow.
“We are currently on shift, Ensign,” he reminded him. Chekov’s shoulders fell just the tiniest bit, and Jim almost felt bad. “However, once shift ends, I would not be averse to a game.”
Jim wanted to roll his eyes at the way Chekov instantly brightened up. As he tried to look anywhere else, he noticed Sulu was wiping his face, clearly aggravated. He caught his eye as he finished.
You too? He mouthed. Sulu nodded, rolling his eyes and glaring at Chekov. Jim couldn’t help but grin, subtly giving his helmsman a thumbs-up before returning his gaze to the PADD in front of him. Something about shore leave for the crew on Risa. Hell, as long as Spock and Chekov could be separated, he was fine with it.
Usually, he would be the one playing Spock after shift, one way or another. Hell, their entire relationship had developed in its early stages over a chess board. It was theirs. The prospect of Chekov taking part in something that had been so intimate for them was slightly nauseating.
And Jim was a fucking masochist, apparently. Because as soon as shift ended, he went to the rec room right along with them, taking a seat at the comfortable couch and holding up an old carbon and ink book, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Fuck, he felt like a mother almost, keeping an eye on-
Oh. Oh.
That was why it was familiar. When he’d been about four or five, he’d been exactly like Chekov. Mom was never around, so he’d tried to win Sam’s affection. Even just being in the same room as him was comfortable back then, and having the slightest attention paid to him made him absurdly happy. And interaction - why, he’d acted like it was bloody Christmas.
When he thought of it that way, it wasn’t so bad. Chekov’s family was more than a couple light years away. He’d probably take what he could get, and if Spock was his idea of an ideal brother, that was just how it had to be.
Hell, it was almost cute.
He abandoned the book altogether then, cupping his chin and watching the match with interest. Spock wasn’t pulling any punches, and Chekov was getting more and more flustered with each move. Probably didn’t help that Spock was at the level of a grandmaster. If Chekov found out, though, he could just imagine the lecture about grandmasters being ‘invented in Russia’ (or probably chess itself had been 'invented in Russia', as far as the kid was concerned).
But he had to admit, the kid wasn’t bad. He was certainly lasting longer than Jim thought he would. Soon enough, though, the boy was tipping his king. There was this beaten-down look on his face, and Jim almost felt sorry for him.
“You play with a great degree of skill,” he heard Spock say. Spock didn’t look impressed - he didn’t look anything. Same as always. Chekov’s face brightened just a little bit. “I would not be averse to another round at a later date. You follow a very logical style.”
Oh, Jesus, Jim could see the invitation forming itself on Chekov’s face. Before he could suggest another game right that second, Jim stepped on over.
“Mr. Spock,” he interrupted before Chekov could begin. “I would like to discuss with you the arrangements for the upcoming shore leave. Would you come with me?”
Spock nodded, waving a dismissive hand to Chekov and following him to the lift. Once in Jim’s quarters, he sat wordlessly on the bed. Something about his posture told Jim this wasn’t the time to lecture him on fraternizing with crew members who weren’t him. And before he could finish even that one thought, he was hit with this overwhelming urge to just hold Spock.
“Spock,” he said softly, coming over to stand between his legs. Spock looked up at him expectantly. This was either going to go really well or really badly. There was only one way to find out. “Nothing violent. No rushing. No fucking. I want to…”
Jesus, he couldn’t get the words out. Spock’s expression betrayed the slightest confusion. “You wish to perform what action?”
If he choked now, he might never get to do it. Swallowing his resolve (or whatever the lump in his throat was), he met Spock’s eyes resolutely. “I want to…make love to you.”
Spock’s expression was impossible to read for a long moment. Jim’s heart must’ve moved to his stomach, because something there was fluttering. He imagined, for a moment, Spock just up and leaving at this point. There had never been any discussion of commitment or love or any emotion other than lust prior to this - there hadn’t been a need to discuss anything. But now he had to, and whether it ended everything or not, he wasn’t going to ignore the need.
He opened his mouth to explain just this, but before he could speak, Spock was standing and pressing his lips gently to Jim’s. The pressure was light, one hand on his hip and the other suspended in the air next to Jim’s ear, almost like he wasn’t sure what to do. Jim couldn’t have reacted if his life depended on it.
When Spock pulled back, hand finally landing on Jim’s jaw. “I have never ‘made love’,” he said softly, “but I would appreciate the opportunity to try.”
Now Jim could move. He cupped Spock’s face with both hands, moving in to kiss him softly. Spock’s lips opened in invitation, and that fluttering in his stomach was back again.
He didn’t know how long they kissed before Spock was on his back on the bed, staring straight into Jim’s eyes. There was some depth of emotion on Spock’s face, and Jim just knew Spock was doing his best to be open with him. That was so much more erotic than anything he’d ever done, and Jim just wanted to sink into him.
He wasn’t sure how they’d undressed without breaking eye contact, but somehow they had, and he spared a thank god for that. Spock opened up easily around his fingers, groaning and pushing against them, clearly asking for Jim to join them. But he couldn’t do it yet. Instead, he used is free hand to stroke down Spock’s body, from one pointed ear to his fingertips, drawing the digits into his mouth.
Spock nearly writhed against the sheets, and it took everything Jim had not to give in and pound right into him. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, probing within his lover and swirling his tongue around Spock’s fingers. When Spock started whimpering, he knew it had gone on enough.
He let Spock pull his fingers out of his mouth, eyes locking with his, some desperation in them. But it wasn’t the same frantic desperation he’d seen a hundred times before - it was softer, needier, and infinitely more taxing, making his heart nearly stop beating. He couldn’t deny him anymore; he lined up and slid in as smoothly as he could.
Their movements were soft, fluid, and sensual, like they’d done this a thousand times before. With each forward stroke, Spock tossed his head back, groaning and whimpering, tilting his hips to bring him deeper, and with each withdrawal he tipped his head up for a kiss. Sometimes they connected; sometimes they didn’t. Spock’s hands traveled everywhere they could reach, exploring every nook and scar and wrinkle on Jim’s body, almost like he was memorizing him.
Jim didn’t know how long it lasted, only that when he came, it wasn’t the blinding rush of a good fuck, but a slow draw into a swirl of bliss, followed by all tension leaving him like a steady exhale. He was unrepentantly aware of Spock’s orgasm, of his name falling from his lips like sobs - but this was Spock, after all, and what sounded like sobbing was his attempt to speak through the shudders wracking his body.
When they collapsed onto each other, there was a long and comfortable silence. Jim traced Greek letters over Spock’s shoulder slowly, reveling in each breath Spock cast across his ear. When he finally stopped even this, Spock’s arms came up to circle his waist.
“I cannot determine your stimulus for proposing this course of action,” he murmured, “but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
Jim sank as far into Spock as he could, wishing it was possible for Spock to open up and take him in entirely. “Chekov’s got a thing for you,” he replied, voice barely more than a whisper. “I just-I didn’t want there to be any question about who…you know.”
He couldn’t say it, but Spock seemed to understand. “You needn’t have worried,” he said, his voice sounding deeper than usual. “I believe he is looking for a brotherly sort of affection.”
It was getting harder and harder for him to stay awake. “Yeah, I think I kind of knew that,” he whispered. God, he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. “Be here in the morning?”
When Spock rumbled in the affirmative, it was enough to send Jim off into a restful sleep, with no damning thoughts about adolescence for once, and instead just a suffusing of warmth and peace.
Written for: roseganymede
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/Spock; Unrequited Chekov => Spock
Summary: Chekov is crushing on Spock. Kirk does not approve of this for a variety of reasons.
Warnings: Language, Oral sex (read: facefucking), puppylove, and pillow talk.
It was all just puberty. Fucking puberty, and it’d be over soon.
At least, that was what Jim had to keep telling himself. Chekov was bypassing his work in favor of ogling Spock again, and really, it had been funny at first. Of all the people for him to like - Spock? It put a whole new definition on ‘hormone laden’, as far as Jim was concerned.
Still, it was rather odd. Whereas Jim’s teenage years had included reckless behavior (in abundance), promiscuity, a general disdain for commitment, alcohol, several attempts at emancipation, a motorcycle, and one horribly misguided and humiliating incident involving a tattoo parlor and three hits off a drug illegal even on Risa, Chekov’s pubescence seemed filled with flowers and adoration and mathematics and other absurd things. The strongest intoxicant he seemed interested in was theoretical warp drive mechanics (which yeah, if you thought too much about could make your head spin in ways even Udura root couldn’t, but still), and instead of getting into shouting matches with his parents, he seemed more prone to file complaints about the voice recognition features of the ship.
Yes, Chekov in puberty was an interesting sight to behold, if only because of how disappointing it was. But once he’d started making eyes at Spock, that was it. No longer interesting. Just irritating.
And it had been going on for three weeks.
He considered going to Bones, but even he couldn’t cure puberty. It’d probably end with a shouting match, another unnecessary round of vaccinations, or, if he was lucky, Chapel starting a betting pot on how long the ‘puppy love’ would last. And he’d probably have to file a report about why he was ordering any medical testing or treatment on a healthy teenage boy (which he would totally do, except he’d have to give reason, and apparently ‘he’s crushing on my secret lover’ was not an acceptable one).
On the plus side, Spock seemed blissfully ignorant to the tumultuous romance Chekov seemed to be pushing for. If he knew the boy was at all attracted to him, he didn’t let it on. There hadn’t been a single change in his work or disposition, and Jim was thankful for that.
The little things. Just the little things.
“Commander Spock,” Chekov called over, just as Jim was getting himself under control. Spock rose diligently, walking to the boy’s station. Jesus, was the kid blushing? It took everything Jim had not to smack his forehead. “I’ve found some sort of anomaly. Would you look at it?”
Jeez, that sounded like something Jim’d say as a sleezy pick up line while having drinks with a sexy physicist. In fact, he was pretty sure he had said that to a sexy physicist once, but it could’ve just as easily been a mathematician. All his pre-Enterprise hookups were starting to run together.
Either way, it didn’t matter now, not with Spock leaning in to look at whatever Chekov had found while the kid in question fidgeted quietly. When Spock pulled back, he stared up at his face.
“I believe that is a trace of the Delphic expanse,” he informed him. “Areas of abnormality in space exist even now stemming from that expanse. They are to be charted and reported to Starfleet. A very good find, Ensign.”
Jesus, the utter elation on the teenager’s face from the simple compliment left a sour taste in Jim’s mouth. As the boy set to work, he checked the time. Four minutes left on their shift.
“Mr. Spock,” he said, causing Spock to turn back to him on his way back to his station. The Vulcan approached, eyebrow quirked. Once he was close enough that no one else could hear, Jim murmured, “come with me after shift.”
Spock gave him a look, but nodded all the same. The next few minutes were spent in quiet, and the second shift was up, Jim stood, clearing his throat. Spock followed him into the lift, and within minutes they were in his quarters.
“Is there something I can do for you, Sir?” Spock asked. Fuck, he knew exactly what he could do for him.
“Kiss me, Spock,” he ordered. Spock immediately complied, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together. Jim locked his hands around the taller man’s head, pulling him closer and kissing him more fiercely, tongue lashing out and probing for entrance. It was granted immediately.
Jim was all too aware of his arousal, his cock already half-hard and adrenalin running through him.
Spock was his. Fucking his.
Spock must’ve caught that through his telepathy, because he outright shuddered, bucking his hips against Jim’s. Jim pressed back with an insistent grind, moving his hands down to cup Spock’s ass while he continued to suck and bit Spock’s tongue.
They had barely pulled away from the kiss before Spock was sinking to his knees, hands scrabbling at the fastenings of Jim’s trousers. There was a desperate need to his actions, like he couldn’t get to Jim’s cock quickly enough. When at last they were open, he yanked them curtly to his thighs, swallowing him down in one motion.
Jesus, Spock was good at this.
Jim reached out to hold Spock’s head in place as his throat relaxed further, signaling undeniably what he wanted him to do. He pumped his hips once, confirming anyway, and when Spock’s eyes fixed on his, he couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to.
He fucked Spock’s mouth with harsh, even strokes, like he could imbed himself into the other man indelibly, like he could leave some evidence to keep anyone from ever looking at him with romance or lust in their gaze. Like he could somehow put himself into Spock’s head forever, reminding him who he belonged to and what he got to do with him.
He heard the sound of a zipper, but he ignored it, bucking into Spock’s mouth over and over, angling his jaw better and sinking deeper with each thrust. The heat and wetness and utter submission - he wasn’t going to last much longer. And then Spock swallowed around him, and it was all over. He thrust himself as deep as he could, pouring himself down the man’s throat with a heady groan.
Spock took it all, and when he pulled out, he could see Spock had pulled out his own cock at some point, and he was jerking at it frantically, eyes fixed on Jim. He had both hands going at once, panting feverishly and moaning when Jim grabbed one hand, bending to take the first and middle fingers into his mouth.
Spock came hard, then, and with a wail Jim could never have imagined him making before they’d started their relationship. His eyes stayed open through the whole thing, watching Jim smile around his fingers and give them one final lick. That elicited the most delicious shudder out of the Vulcan.
“Fucking amazing,” Jim muttered, dropping to his knees and locking his mouth Spock’s.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Spock apparently didn’t get the idea of a ‘possessive fuck’. Two days later, Chekov was following Spock around like a puppy, and he didn’t even try to stop him. Jim had heard at least three ensigns comment on how ‘cute’ it was, and he was seriously reconsidering the idea of going to Bones to make him do something - maybe he could put Chekov in a coma for a few years. It wouldn’t hurt him. And when he woke up, puberty would be OVER.
There was probably a regulation about that.
But still, something seemed different than an ordinary crush. Chekov seemed content just to be around Spock, occasionally making up some ridiculous question, sure, but mostly just following him around. It was bizarre and creepy.
And it was familiar. But he couldn’t place it.
“Commander Spock,” he heard Chekov say, and he tuned in again. Spock turned to face him. “I’ve seen you playing chess before with the captain. I haven’t had a chance to play in a long time, and I was wondering if you would play with me.”
The last bit of it came out in a rush, but the invitation was pretty clear. Spock raised an eyebrow.
“We are currently on shift, Ensign,” he reminded him. Chekov’s shoulders fell just the tiniest bit, and Jim almost felt bad. “However, once shift ends, I would not be averse to a game.”
Jim wanted to roll his eyes at the way Chekov instantly brightened up. As he tried to look anywhere else, he noticed Sulu was wiping his face, clearly aggravated. He caught his eye as he finished.
You too? He mouthed. Sulu nodded, rolling his eyes and glaring at Chekov. Jim couldn’t help but grin, subtly giving his helmsman a thumbs-up before returning his gaze to the PADD in front of him. Something about shore leave for the crew on Risa. Hell, as long as Spock and Chekov could be separated, he was fine with it.
Usually, he would be the one playing Spock after shift, one way or another. Hell, their entire relationship had developed in its early stages over a chess board. It was theirs. The prospect of Chekov taking part in something that had been so intimate for them was slightly nauseating.
And Jim was a fucking masochist, apparently. Because as soon as shift ended, he went to the rec room right along with them, taking a seat at the comfortable couch and holding up an old carbon and ink book, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Fuck, he felt like a mother almost, keeping an eye on-
Oh. Oh.
That was why it was familiar. When he’d been about four or five, he’d been exactly like Chekov. Mom was never around, so he’d tried to win Sam’s affection. Even just being in the same room as him was comfortable back then, and having the slightest attention paid to him made him absurdly happy. And interaction - why, he’d acted like it was bloody Christmas.
When he thought of it that way, it wasn’t so bad. Chekov’s family was more than a couple light years away. He’d probably take what he could get, and if Spock was his idea of an ideal brother, that was just how it had to be.
Hell, it was almost cute.
He abandoned the book altogether then, cupping his chin and watching the match with interest. Spock wasn’t pulling any punches, and Chekov was getting more and more flustered with each move. Probably didn’t help that Spock was at the level of a grandmaster. If Chekov found out, though, he could just imagine the lecture about grandmasters being ‘invented in Russia’ (or probably chess itself had been 'invented in Russia', as far as the kid was concerned).
But he had to admit, the kid wasn’t bad. He was certainly lasting longer than Jim thought he would. Soon enough, though, the boy was tipping his king. There was this beaten-down look on his face, and Jim almost felt sorry for him.
“You play with a great degree of skill,” he heard Spock say. Spock didn’t look impressed - he didn’t look anything. Same as always. Chekov’s face brightened just a little bit. “I would not be averse to another round at a later date. You follow a very logical style.”
Oh, Jesus, Jim could see the invitation forming itself on Chekov’s face. Before he could suggest another game right that second, Jim stepped on over.
“Mr. Spock,” he interrupted before Chekov could begin. “I would like to discuss with you the arrangements for the upcoming shore leave. Would you come with me?”
Spock nodded, waving a dismissive hand to Chekov and following him to the lift. Once in Jim’s quarters, he sat wordlessly on the bed. Something about his posture told Jim this wasn’t the time to lecture him on fraternizing with crew members who weren’t him. And before he could finish even that one thought, he was hit with this overwhelming urge to just hold Spock.
“Spock,” he said softly, coming over to stand between his legs. Spock looked up at him expectantly. This was either going to go really well or really badly. There was only one way to find out. “Nothing violent. No rushing. No fucking. I want to…”
Jesus, he couldn’t get the words out. Spock’s expression betrayed the slightest confusion. “You wish to perform what action?”
If he choked now, he might never get to do it. Swallowing his resolve (or whatever the lump in his throat was), he met Spock’s eyes resolutely. “I want to…make love to you.”
Spock’s expression was impossible to read for a long moment. Jim’s heart must’ve moved to his stomach, because something there was fluttering. He imagined, for a moment, Spock just up and leaving at this point. There had never been any discussion of commitment or love or any emotion other than lust prior to this - there hadn’t been a need to discuss anything. But now he had to, and whether it ended everything or not, he wasn’t going to ignore the need.
He opened his mouth to explain just this, but before he could speak, Spock was standing and pressing his lips gently to Jim’s. The pressure was light, one hand on his hip and the other suspended in the air next to Jim’s ear, almost like he wasn’t sure what to do. Jim couldn’t have reacted if his life depended on it.
When Spock pulled back, hand finally landing on Jim’s jaw. “I have never ‘made love’,” he said softly, “but I would appreciate the opportunity to try.”
Now Jim could move. He cupped Spock’s face with both hands, moving in to kiss him softly. Spock’s lips opened in invitation, and that fluttering in his stomach was back again.
He didn’t know how long they kissed before Spock was on his back on the bed, staring straight into Jim’s eyes. There was some depth of emotion on Spock’s face, and Jim just knew Spock was doing his best to be open with him. That was so much more erotic than anything he’d ever done, and Jim just wanted to sink into him.
He wasn’t sure how they’d undressed without breaking eye contact, but somehow they had, and he spared a thank god for that. Spock opened up easily around his fingers, groaning and pushing against them, clearly asking for Jim to join them. But he couldn’t do it yet. Instead, he used is free hand to stroke down Spock’s body, from one pointed ear to his fingertips, drawing the digits into his mouth.
Spock nearly writhed against the sheets, and it took everything Jim had not to give in and pound right into him. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, probing within his lover and swirling his tongue around Spock’s fingers. When Spock started whimpering, he knew it had gone on enough.
He let Spock pull his fingers out of his mouth, eyes locking with his, some desperation in them. But it wasn’t the same frantic desperation he’d seen a hundred times before - it was softer, needier, and infinitely more taxing, making his heart nearly stop beating. He couldn’t deny him anymore; he lined up and slid in as smoothly as he could.
Their movements were soft, fluid, and sensual, like they’d done this a thousand times before. With each forward stroke, Spock tossed his head back, groaning and whimpering, tilting his hips to bring him deeper, and with each withdrawal he tipped his head up for a kiss. Sometimes they connected; sometimes they didn’t. Spock’s hands traveled everywhere they could reach, exploring every nook and scar and wrinkle on Jim’s body, almost like he was memorizing him.
Jim didn’t know how long it lasted, only that when he came, it wasn’t the blinding rush of a good fuck, but a slow draw into a swirl of bliss, followed by all tension leaving him like a steady exhale. He was unrepentantly aware of Spock’s orgasm, of his name falling from his lips like sobs - but this was Spock, after all, and what sounded like sobbing was his attempt to speak through the shudders wracking his body.
When they collapsed onto each other, there was a long and comfortable silence. Jim traced Greek letters over Spock’s shoulder slowly, reveling in each breath Spock cast across his ear. When he finally stopped even this, Spock’s arms came up to circle his waist.
“I cannot determine your stimulus for proposing this course of action,” he murmured, “but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
Jim sank as far into Spock as he could, wishing it was possible for Spock to open up and take him in entirely. “Chekov’s got a thing for you,” he replied, voice barely more than a whisper. “I just-I didn’t want there to be any question about who…you know.”
He couldn’t say it, but Spock seemed to understand. “You needn’t have worried,” he said, his voice sounding deeper than usual. “I believe he is looking for a brotherly sort of affection.”
It was getting harder and harder for him to stay awake. “Yeah, I think I kind of knew that,” he whispered. God, he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. “Be here in the morning?”
When Spock rumbled in the affirmative, it was enough to send Jim off into a restful sleep, with no damning thoughts about adolescence for once, and instead just a suffusing of warmth and peace.