FIC: Just a Taste 1/1 (Trek, Spock/Kirk)
Just a Taste
By Keelywolfe
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating NC-17
Summary: The prompt was for Spock and Kirk in an enclosed space and fellatio. No problem.
Notes: This is all sithdragn's fault. I'm at Mediawest con being all good and she inspires me to cheap porn! Yeah, I like it. *G*
~~*~~
It's the taste that Jim was having a hard time adjusting to; not that all Humans taste the same or that he hasn't sucked alien cock before. No, Jim was a regular connoisseur of the flavor of bodily fluids amongst those species who had joined the Federation. As a rule, most taste faintly salty or bitter, heady, pungent, with a touch of smokiness depending the chemical makeup of being involved and the basic components of their atmosphere.
He supposed it stood to reason that Spock would just have to be different. Sweet, not enough to be cloying, and almost coppery, like sucking on a penny. A lingering sweetness that he savored long after Spock had finished shivering, choking back sounds when Jim tongued the tip of his cock eagerly, looking for just a tiny bit more. It had to be the taste that explained why he would happily suck this particular alien cock wherever and whenever.
In either of their quarters, or the visitors lounge, and once, when they had been in for maintenance and the Enterprise had been all but deserted, they had been on the bridge and Spock had been sprawled in the Captain's chair, his face tight as he bit his lips against all those illogical little sounds that tried to escape.
Or in this case, it was a tiny maintenance closet, the thrum of machinery eye-wateringily close around them. There was barely enough room for him to kneel, his legs spread wide around Spock's feet, as close as he could get and still his knees were tight to the wall, his toes scraping the one opposite. And Spock's cock was tight against the back of his throat, his hips moving in tiny little circles, trying to get deeper, trying for just a little more.
Hot, so hot, Vulcan body temperature was degrees above Human and the computers around them only made it hotter. Jim could feel sweat sliding down his face, dampening his hair, and wondered briefly how he must look, if Spock looked. His mouth pink, stretched around the hot, hard flesh gliding in and out, glistening wet and eager. Would it make Spock hotter, if he looked, make him whimper out the faintest little sound?
Blowjobs he's given, yeah, but the sweetness wasn't the same, the fingers in his hair weren't the same. They were tentative, sifting through softness and not guiding, not holding, just...there. Oral sex is not logical, Spock had told him once, his tone uneven between syrupy sweet kisses, Jim sharing his own taste with him. There was no chance of procreation, no purpose for it but pleasure but he also never said no, never resisted the hands that had dragged him in here in the middle of his explanation about the Tellerite culture, that had fumbled open his uniform trousers and tugged them down past his thighs, and he'd been hard, so hard, ready for the wet, cool mouth that surrounded him, seeking that taste one more time.
Jim wondered, fleetingly, if there was anything in Vulcan semen that could be considered addictive and imagined Bone's face if he asked. Might be worth it, almost, to see that, but it might also make this stop, McCoy's knowledge a hideous invasion on this unspoken little ritual.
The heat was almost stifling in the tiny closet, all his clothes were sticking to him damply and Jim only slid his arms around Spock, let his fingertips linger at the small of his back and heard the sharp gasp above him as he swallowed around that hardness, worked his tongue against it. Hell, no one could say he didn't have talent, not even Spock, if he'd say it. If he'd ever talk about this.
It didn't matter, though, not one fucking bit, because James Kirk didn't want to talk or cuddle or any other of a dozen things he could name. He just wanted to suck Spock's cock, lick at the slickness at the tip, taste the fresh rush of sweetness as the grip in his hair suddenly tightened, the tiny, warning crackle of hairs breaking between Spock's fingers and sudden rush of fluid almost made him choke, swallowing syrupy wetness as quickly as he could and still tiny rivulets escaped, dripping down his chin and more when Spock withdrew and he could suddenly breathe, dragging humid air into his lungs.
There was barely room for Spock to collapse, sliding down until Jim had to shift and let him on the floor, moving so he was practically straddling the other man's lap. The light in the room was reddish and dim, composed of flickering consoles and Spock's eyes were only a dark, wet gleam in it. Jim might have smiled, might have cracked a joke the same way he had at the end of a dozen other interstellar blowjobs, might have if Spock hadn't leaned forward and licked at the wetness still on Jim's chin, followed it up to his swollen mouth. So gentle, considerate of sore lips and an equally exhausted tongue. Sweet sticky kisses between them, Spock's hands between them, fumbling with his pants and they were trembling...trembling?
He was trembling, the same hands that were always so steady on the bridge were shaking in their tiny, dark corner and Jim could only kiss him, murmuring soft words between them as he licked Spock's sweetness into his own mouth. He arched into those hot, shaky hands, his own pleasure edging his vision with blackness and of course, Spock would have to be different, had to be different. Was different.
"It's all right," he murmured, even as he came, thick sweetness still heavy on his tongue. "It's all right, it's all right."
He held on to him afterward, sprawled heavy and too-hot against Spock, and watched with painfully wide eyes as Spock raised a hand to his lips and licked it, tasted Jim the same way Jim had so often tasted Spock.
"You taste Human," Spock told him quietly and Jim smiled into his mouth, tasted his own salt mixed with the lingering sweet.
"You don't," Jim said, softly, and kissed him again.
-finis-
By Keelywolfe
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating NC-17
Summary: The prompt was for Spock and Kirk in an enclosed space and fellatio. No problem.
Notes: This is all sithdragn's fault. I'm at Mediawest con being all good and she inspires me to cheap porn! Yeah, I like it. *G*
~~*~~
It's the taste that Jim was having a hard time adjusting to; not that all Humans taste the same or that he hasn't sucked alien cock before. No, Jim was a regular connoisseur of the flavor of bodily fluids amongst those species who had joined the Federation. As a rule, most taste faintly salty or bitter, heady, pungent, with a touch of smokiness depending the chemical makeup of being involved and the basic components of their atmosphere.
He supposed it stood to reason that Spock would just have to be different. Sweet, not enough to be cloying, and almost coppery, like sucking on a penny. A lingering sweetness that he savored long after Spock had finished shivering, choking back sounds when Jim tongued the tip of his cock eagerly, looking for just a tiny bit more. It had to be the taste that explained why he would happily suck this particular alien cock wherever and whenever.
In either of their quarters, or the visitors lounge, and once, when they had been in for maintenance and the Enterprise had been all but deserted, they had been on the bridge and Spock had been sprawled in the Captain's chair, his face tight as he bit his lips against all those illogical little sounds that tried to escape.
Or in this case, it was a tiny maintenance closet, the thrum of machinery eye-wateringily close around them. There was barely enough room for him to kneel, his legs spread wide around Spock's feet, as close as he could get and still his knees were tight to the wall, his toes scraping the one opposite. And Spock's cock was tight against the back of his throat, his hips moving in tiny little circles, trying to get deeper, trying for just a little more.
Hot, so hot, Vulcan body temperature was degrees above Human and the computers around them only made it hotter. Jim could feel sweat sliding down his face, dampening his hair, and wondered briefly how he must look, if Spock looked. His mouth pink, stretched around the hot, hard flesh gliding in and out, glistening wet and eager. Would it make Spock hotter, if he looked, make him whimper out the faintest little sound?
Blowjobs he's given, yeah, but the sweetness wasn't the same, the fingers in his hair weren't the same. They were tentative, sifting through softness and not guiding, not holding, just...there. Oral sex is not logical, Spock had told him once, his tone uneven between syrupy sweet kisses, Jim sharing his own taste with him. There was no chance of procreation, no purpose for it but pleasure but he also never said no, never resisted the hands that had dragged him in here in the middle of his explanation about the Tellerite culture, that had fumbled open his uniform trousers and tugged them down past his thighs, and he'd been hard, so hard, ready for the wet, cool mouth that surrounded him, seeking that taste one more time.
Jim wondered, fleetingly, if there was anything in Vulcan semen that could be considered addictive and imagined Bone's face if he asked. Might be worth it, almost, to see that, but it might also make this stop, McCoy's knowledge a hideous invasion on this unspoken little ritual.
The heat was almost stifling in the tiny closet, all his clothes were sticking to him damply and Jim only slid his arms around Spock, let his fingertips linger at the small of his back and heard the sharp gasp above him as he swallowed around that hardness, worked his tongue against it. Hell, no one could say he didn't have talent, not even Spock, if he'd say it. If he'd ever talk about this.
It didn't matter, though, not one fucking bit, because James Kirk didn't want to talk or cuddle or any other of a dozen things he could name. He just wanted to suck Spock's cock, lick at the slickness at the tip, taste the fresh rush of sweetness as the grip in his hair suddenly tightened, the tiny, warning crackle of hairs breaking between Spock's fingers and sudden rush of fluid almost made him choke, swallowing syrupy wetness as quickly as he could and still tiny rivulets escaped, dripping down his chin and more when Spock withdrew and he could suddenly breathe, dragging humid air into his lungs.
There was barely room for Spock to collapse, sliding down until Jim had to shift and let him on the floor, moving so he was practically straddling the other man's lap. The light in the room was reddish and dim, composed of flickering consoles and Spock's eyes were only a dark, wet gleam in it. Jim might have smiled, might have cracked a joke the same way he had at the end of a dozen other interstellar blowjobs, might have if Spock hadn't leaned forward and licked at the wetness still on Jim's chin, followed it up to his swollen mouth. So gentle, considerate of sore lips and an equally exhausted tongue. Sweet sticky kisses between them, Spock's hands between them, fumbling with his pants and they were trembling...trembling?
He was trembling, the same hands that were always so steady on the bridge were shaking in their tiny, dark corner and Jim could only kiss him, murmuring soft words between them as he licked Spock's sweetness into his own mouth. He arched into those hot, shaky hands, his own pleasure edging his vision with blackness and of course, Spock would have to be different, had to be different. Was different.
"It's all right," he murmured, even as he came, thick sweetness still heavy on his tongue. "It's all right, it's all right."
He held on to him afterward, sprawled heavy and too-hot against Spock, and watched with painfully wide eyes as Spock raised a hand to his lips and licked it, tasted Jim the same way Jim had so often tasted Spock.
"You taste Human," Spock told him quietly and Jim smiled into his mouth, tasted his own salt mixed with the lingering sweet.
"You don't," Jim said, softly, and kissed him again.
-finis-