Title: Getting a Piece of the Action, NC-17
Title: Getting a Piece of the Action
Pairing: Jim/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The unrepentantly porny aftermath of A Piece of the Action.
Warnings: Light breath play, filthy gangster talk, possessive-as-hell!Jim, bottom!Spock, hand porn, Spock getting crazy turned on by pet names.
A/N: Written because Jim and Spock desperately need to have sex in these suits... and because Jim really needs to call Spock ‘sweetheart’. :D
... Really, need I say more?
As Spock struggles to find something that resembles control, he wonders how the sight of Jim in that snug blue suit - mixed with the rough sound of his normally smooth voice, now curling around that mangled mess of crass gangster slang - can skyrocket his arousal to such heights it’s difficult for Spock to see straight.
“C’mon, Spocko, I know ya want it.”
Jim is murmuring the words into Spock’s ear, his breath warm against the sensitive skin as he curls his fingers into the lapels of Spock’s brown suit jacket, pushing him backwards until he hits the bedroom wall. Spock squeezes his eyes shut at the flash of heat that tears through him, leaving him already struggling for air.
“I saw you down there, Spock.” Jim’s voice gets serious for a moment, his accent gone as he pulls back to look Spock in the eyes, and his abrupt switch between personas sends another jolt of arousal through him. “I know you. I know what to look for. You couldn’t take your eyes off me.”
When Spock can’t find any words to protest, Jim smirks and leans back in, leaving no time for further objections. He casually begins to nibble on Spock’s ear, sending an incinerating flash of heat across the sensitive skin, and a full out tremble starts in response, spreading from Spock’s chest to his knees, and making him clutch at Jim’s shoulders.
“Jim,” he manages, his voice already much raspier than it should be. “I do not doubt that -”
“Oh, no, Spocko.” The nibble turns into a long lick, as Jim trails his tongue down the side of Spock’s neck, grinning against the skin as Spock twitches slightly in response. “Call me captain, or call me boss - but I’m in charge of dis here operation, and my first name ain’t no longer up for grabs, ya got that?”
The twangy words send another wave of heat across his skin, and Spock closes his eyes in defeat, knowing he was gone from the moment Jim showed up at his door.
“Uh uh, don’t ya think that you can hide from dis.” Jim is still making a mess out of Spock’s neck, dragging his teeth and lips and tongue across every inch he can reach, and Spock can’t stop a slightly broken noise. “Ya got into it your role just fine down dere, and now you’re gonna do the same here, and keep dem beautiful brown eyes open. Decided what yer gonna call me?”
Spock can only shake his head, his eyes still squeezed shut, as every inch of his body aches to rub against Jim’s. He feels Jim grin against his neck again, before he presses them together from groin to chest, and slides his hands down to Spock’s ass, pulling them even tighter together.
“Well, I know what I’m gonna call you, Spock.”
Jim is whispering again, and Spock is losing the fight to keep his hips from pressing mindlessly forward, wondering how this man can possibly undo him so easily. Jim’s fingers tighten their grip on his ass, and Spock can’t stop a needy noise.
“Got a little sometin special for ya.”
“Indeed?”
His voice is embarrassingly rough, and when Jim responds by sliding his tongue against his ear, curling it from the bottom to the very tip, Spock’s pretty sure the noise he makes in response isn’t even anything close to a coherent word. He tries to hold it in, but Jim’s pleased hum has an audible smirk, and Spock is still shuddering in response, that simple touch sending him to a place where thought is almost impossible, when Jim lowers his voice even further, and whispers the word into Spock’s ear -
“Sweetheart.”
The endearment tears through Spock’s restraint, jerking his hips mindlessly forward, and when he feels Jim press a thigh against his erection, he can’t stop himself from rubbing back against it. His hands finally drop to clutch at Jim’s ass, trying to pull them closer together.
“Now dat’s more like it.” There’s a grin in his voice as Jim’s hands slip under the bottom of his dress shirt, pressing his cool fingers against Spock’s flushed skin. “Got yerself a bit of a pet name kink?”
Embarrassment keeps Spock silent, and Jim pulls back long enough to twist his hands in the front of Spock’s shirt, the rough movement ramping up his arousal another notice. He somehow gets it undone and off, leaving Spock in his light tan blouse, and he suddenly feels vulnerable as Jim steps back and trails his eyes along Spock’s body.
“Goddamnit, Spock. If I was yer boss, I’d never let ya cover up that body with such an ugly jacket.”
There’s something reverent beneath the twang, and it makes Spock’s heart ache in way that almost overwhelms the need in his groin. Just as he’s beginning to squirm inside at the attention, Jim flashes him a grin and drags his fingers along the expanse of Spock’s chest, before brushing across one sensitive nipple and curling around his tie, tightening the pressure against his neck.
“No complaints, sweetheart?”
The ensuing rush of vertigo leaves Spock swaying slightly, and he knows he’s read Jim correctly when Jim tugs sharply on the tie, forcing him to stumble forward, if he wants to keep breathing. Spock’s heart kicks up its pace another notch, and he reluctantly meets Jim’s eyes, knowing that his arousal is burning there for the entire world to see.
“I will never understand how you always know -”
“You liked me tellin’ ya what to do - more than ya normally do, even. I watched ya.” There’s another tug on his tie, and Spock moves forward until Jim has pulled them together again, his cock hard and hot against Spock’s leg. “When I told ya to sit, you sat, just like the good Vulcan ya’re - and I’d bet dat everyone in de room saw the lust in yer eyes.”
At his rush of mortification at having been so obvious, Spock has to close his eyes again, and he presses his lips tightly together as Jim begins to strip him, murmuring softly in that twang the entire time, sending darts of heat up and down Spock’s body. He can feel a fire beginning to burn deeply inside him, and by the time he’s naked and shoved against the wall again, he’s pretty sure he’s only being kept upright by the strength of the man moulded against him.
“Love ya so much like dis, Spock. The way yer always keeping it together, pretending to be so civilized for the rest of the world, and den lettin’ go with me.” Jim scrapes his teeth along Spock’s shoulder, and Spock can’t stop a shudder. “To know that beneath yer controlled exterior, ya need to give yerself over to someone, to let yerself fall apart in my hands…”
The words are as terrifying as they are arousing, and the notion of falling apart in Jim’s hands is making him want to run - but he knows that he can never leave, because this man inspires something in Spock that strips away his control and rationale thought. Something that turns him into an animalistic being, who can think of nothing beyond pressing them closer together, of being buried deep inside Jim, of having his captain inside him, pushing them both to a place of bliss that Spock had never even imagined could exist -
As his cock hardens even further at the thought of taking Jim inside his body, Spock is suddenly very conscious of how naked he is, when Jim hasn’t even gotten his boots off.
“Dat’s right, Spock.” Jim is still nibbling gently on Spock’s shoulder, and Spock distantly wonders - not for the first time - if Jim has a hint of telepathy in his own mind, as Jim’s hand slides down to rest teasingly against his thigh, so close to where he wants it. “Ya let yerself go, even if it scares ya, and it’s something I’ll never, ever take for granted - I’ll always put ya back together, make sure dat ya can face the world again…”
It’s in that moment that Spock’s lust-addled brain realizes that his tie is still wrapped snugly around his neck, despite that the rest of his clothes have somehow disappeared. It’s another layer of vulnerable on top of how defenceless he already is, and he feels heat creep down his neck as Jim steps back and smirks, trailing his eyes up and down the length of Spock’s body.
“Well, well, wouldja look at dat. Naked and beautiful, flushed green from top to bottom, and I haven’t even gotten out of dis here jacket yet. Think dat’s somethin’ ya can remedy?”
He hates that his hands are trembling as he reaches out, the buttons of Jim’s jacket somehow beyond him until Jim wraps his hands around Spock’s wrists, holding him steady enough to get them undone. He has a momentary flash of anxiety over how much more controlled Jim seems, but then Jim is kissing him again, sliding his hands around and down to squeeze Spock’s bare ass, and Spock can do nothing but arch forward in response, the feel of Jim’s clothed leg against his cock destroying what was left of his sanity.
“Come wit me, Spocko.”
Spock doesn’t protest when fingers tighten around his tie again, and Jim attempts to tug him backward. Spock finds himself resisting for just a moment, until the intoxicating burn of the tie becomes too much, and the need for oxygen draws him forward. Jim’s eyes drop to his neck before flicking back up to Spock’s eyes, and he slowly curls his fingers up to Spock’s collarbone, wrapping the tie completely in his fest, and firmly tugging Spock towards him.
Spock goes without a fight, and the cool lips against his, mixed with the unceasing pressure against his neck, send a maelstrom of sensation across his lips. He finds himself suddenly being turned around, carefully manoeuvred by one hand at his neck and one digging into his hip, and is suddenly able to breathe again when Jim pushes him down onto the bed, nudging him backwards with an expression that suddenly has more desperate need than cockiness.
“Watch me.”
Jim’s voice is rough and low, the desire there an almost tangible sensation, and Spock’s mouth goes dry as Jim slowly relinquishes his grip on Spock’s tie and teasingly slides out of his clothes, the blue pants dropping to the floor, and his shirt fluttering down to rest against his feet. Spock closes his eyes again, overwhelmed by what the sight of Jim’s naked body does to him, and then lets out a hiss when Jim slides into bed, pressing their bare skin together from hips to chest.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Let me see dem beautiful brown eyes.”
He manages to get them open, and the need he sees reflected in Jim’s gaze threatens to undo him completely. He knows he should say something, should try to regain some control over this situation, but his vocal chords have somehow lost the ability to function.
“Dat’s more like it.”
Slowly, never taking his eyes from Spock, Jim reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a bottle of lube, and Spock’s breathing speeds up even further, making it difficult for him to get adequate oxygen. He watches as Jim slicks his fingers, before dragging them down Spock’s leg, leaving a trail of dampness against the inside of his thighs, and making him squirm for greater contact.
“Ya gotta tell me dat ya want dis, sweetheart. I’m de boss here, and your beautiful body is mine, but I want to hear your lovely voice wrap around how much you want me to fuck you.”
Spock closes his eyes again at the crude words, unable to speak, and one finger begins to circle teasingly against his opening, drawing a helpless gasp from his chest. The gentle movement continues without change until Spock’s using all his control to keep his hips on the bed, and he forces his eyes open, almost losing it when he realizes that Jim, instead of watching his fingers dance along the entrance to Spock’s body, has never taken his eyes from Spock’s face.
“Well? Gonna tell me ya want me?”
Jim’s eyes are dilated, his breathing almost as rapid as Spock’s, and yet Spock still can’t seem to speak, his throat completely closed up, rendering him incapable of words.
“I’m waitin’, sweetheart. Ya don’t get nothin’ unless ya want it as much as I do.”
Spock closes his eyes again, finding it easier to force his voice to work if he can’t see the need and almost-awe on Jim’s face. “Jim -”
“Captain.”
Spock exhales sharply and tries to push his body down, wanting to speak in the easiest way he knows how, but Jim’s fingers begin to slide away completely, dragging back up along his thigh -
“No, please -” Spock somehow finds his shaky voice, fighting back panic at the thought of losing that touch, and further frightened by how much he needs this. “I want - I ask that you -”
“Hmm?”
The finger slides back down, putting solid pressure against his opening without sliding in, and Spock can’t stop a shudder. He wants this - he needs this, more than he’s willing to admit - but he’s never been able to say it, and Jim has never pressed him like this -
“C’mon, Spocko, I need to hear how much ya need me.” The tip of one slick finger just barely slips inside, pressing against the muscles there, sending heat streaking through his lower body. “Don’t ya make me beg ya to beg me, dat just defeats de purpose -”
“I need you.”
His voice is little more than a ragged whisper, the sound grating against his ears, and he keeps his eyes squeezed shut as new warmth spreads across his cheeks. The admission seems to have loosened something inside him, while at the same time twisting him even tighter, reminding him of how dangerous it is to want someone this much, but making it impossible for him to care about safety and sanity -
“If you insist on hearing the words,” he continues, his voice nothing more than a whisper, his eyes still squeezed shut, unexpected heat spreading through his body at the words slipping from his mouth, “Then yes, Captain, I need you.”
There is silence for an agonizing moment, Jim’s finger frozen against his body, and both of them barely seem to be breathing.
Then -
“Goddamnit, Spock.”
Jim roughly rasps out the words and then kisses him again, sliding up to find his lips even as he slides that finger completely inside, and the slight burn of it makes Spock gasp against Jim’s mouth. He suddenly can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs, as Jim has begun kissing him with almost bruising force, and when a second finger slips in easily to find the first, the slight stretch is not nearly enough.
“More.”
When Spock grates out the single word, the fingers inside him twist slightly, just as Jim’s teeth bite down against his lower lip, and Spock tries to push himself closer, the slight flash of pain spreading heat from his mouth to his chest.
“Who said dat you get to give the orders?”
Spock holds back a noise that would be embarrassingly close to a whimper, curls his fingers into the bed sheets, and tries to lie still as Jim’s fingers continue to twist inside him, never pressing against the place he desperately wants them to.
“Jim -”
“Mm, I did say dat I wanted ta hear yer voice.”
Before Spock can manage a response, Jim is rubbing a third finger around his entrance, the sensation nothing more than a tease. Biting back a groan, Spock tries with all his might to not be so easily undone, but that fails when his hips push down involuntarily, and he can feel Jim grin against his lips.
“Yer adorable, sweetheart.”
Something desperate flashes through Spock, and the low growl that escapes his lips has Jim groaning and licking around the edge of Spock’s mouth, two fingers still stroking gently inside him. Trying to think through the pleasure shooting across his body, Spock distantly realizes that he’s almost tearing the sheets beneath him, as a third finger slides inside with agonizing slowness, and Jim begins tracing gentle nips across Spock’s lips.
“Yer doin’ good, luv. God, I wish you could see yerself.”
Something inside him responds to the praise by spreading a new wave of heat across his entire body, and he can’t stop a groan as those three fingers stretch slightly outward, before coming together and curling upwards, putting pressure against the spot that makes fireworks go off behind Spock’s vision. He only realizes he’s squeezed his eyes shut when warm lips press against an eyelid, and he opens them to find Jim watching him with almost frightening heat.
“Ready for more?”
Spock can only nod, and his back arches helplessly as Jim presses his fingers upwards one last time, moving them in tight little circles and drawing a gasp from Spock’s throat. After a moment of almost painful pleasure, Jim exhales shakily and carefully slides them out, leaving Spock empty and aching, and Spock does his best to stop a protesting noise, biting down on his lip and closes his eyes again.
“Uh uh, keep dem eyes open.”
The sound of Jim’s hand spreading lubricant on his own cock is already dangerously close to sensation overload, and Spock keeps his eyes closed, every inch of him aching to be owned by this man.
“I said eyes open, sweetheart.”
His legs are unceremoniously hauled up, and he forces his eyes open as he wraps his legs around Jim’s waist, Jim’s cock resting with unyielding pressure against the entrance to his body. The vulnerability simply sends another burst of heat through his body, and Spock somehow keeps eyes open as Jim wraps their hands together and deliberately pins them above Spock’s head, pressing their fingers together in a sloppy imitation of a Vulcan kiss, and then waits, his eyes never leaving Spock’s.
“Jim -”
Spock’s choked exclamation is cut short by the unforgiving pressure of Jim sliding inside him, and his body arches to accept the intrusion, unable to get close enough, every inch of him desperate for more. As Jim curses and gently rocks forward, slowly working himself deeper, Spock finds his hands snapping free to clutch at Jim’s hips, and Jim gasps helplessly as Spock yanks him forward, groaning as his body is finally filled.
“Jesus, Spock.”
Spock distantly realizes that any hint of an accent is gone, and the surge of pride that comes from distracting Jim so completely has him deliberately squeezing his muscles tighter around Jim, the sensation making them both groan again, twin sounds of desperate need. Jim finally begins to move, Spock’s fingers still digging mercilessly into his hips, and they start a slow rhythm that has Jim muttering curses, even as Spock wordlessly begs for more, his fingers travelling all over Jim’s body, trying to touch as much skin as they can, sensation shooting through his fingers and into his wrists.
“You - kissing me with your hands,” Jim suddenly gasps, desperate arousal lacing every word, and Spock responds by digging his nails into Jim’s back, causing Jim to thrust forward with enough strength to drive a grunt from Spock’s chest. “Have - have I ever mentioned - how hot that is? That every fucking time you touch me -”
The sound of Jim’s panted words has Spock holding back an embarrassing sound of need, and he silences Jim by pressing their mouths together, his arousal spiralling higher as Jim moves a little faster, the pressure and stretch inside his body mixing with the feel of warm skin under his fingers -
Then Jim changes his angle slightly, finally brushing against that bundle of nerves that sends a sheet of white across Spock’s eyes, and Spock is left struggling to breathe through a humiliating whining sound. Jim responds with a stuttered curse, thrusting forward harder, and Spock can’t stop himself from curling forward to bite against Jim’s shoulder, his fingers down digging into Jim’s back.
“Fuck, Spock - you -”
Spock realizes that he’s closed his eyes again, and when he opens them, the sight of Jim’s beautifully flushed face has him biting back a whimper, the warmth in those brown eyes just as incinerating as the unforgiving press of Jim’s cock deep inside him. Slowing his thrusts just slightly, and ignoring the whine that spills from Spock’s throat, Jim manages to pry one clutching hand loose from his back. When Spock feels his fingers slide into Jim’s damp mouth, that tongue tracing circles and lines across sensitive skin, he finds himself teetering on the edge of oblivion, grasping tighter with his other hand as Jim thrusts forward harder than before, his body dragging across the aching cock pressed against Spock’s stomach.
“Fuck, Spock, so fucking beautiful -”
Spock helplessly presses his fingers harder into Jim’s mouth, searching for more contact, arching up to get more pressure against his cock - and then suddenly a hand is wrapped around the tie he’d forgotten he still had on, pulling tight and cutting off his air for just a second, as a warm tongue mixes with the slightest hint of teeth against his palm - sending tendrils of heat and need to every inch of his body, raging the inferno inside him even higher, as he continues to rub his cock against the damp body pressed down against his -
“Come on, sweetheart.”
As the uncensored affection in Jim’s whisper smashes the last vestiges of Spock’s control, he feels the world explode around him, pleasure morphing into a shower of sparks and stars, and he hears himself gasping the same name over and over, his fingers still buried in intoxicating heat. His limbs feel like lead, and he barely registers the low grunt of his name as Jim finally lets himself go, digging his teeth into Spock’s shoulder as heat explodes inside Spock’s body, drawing a last helpless groan from each of their chests.
“Goddamn, Spock.”
Jim is muttering vague obscenities into his neck, his body a dead weight on top of Spock, and Spock can’t stop the tiniest twitch of his lips, sudden happiness sending tendrils of warmth across his body. He presses his half-smile into the dampness of Jim’s hair, and then rolls them so that he can wrap his arms around Jim, already missing the feeling of Jim inside him, their mouths resting just inches apart on the pillow.
“You take far too much pleasure in reducing me to pleas.”
He can hear the reluctant embarrassment in his voice, and Jim snuggles closer with a quiet laugh, slipping a hand down to rest again the racing heart pressed against Jim’s hipbone. “Says the Vulcan who gets off on being called ‘sweetheart’.”
Spock closes his eyes in further embarrassment, unable to stop blood from rushing to his already heated face, but the brush of lips across his leaves him sighing with contentment, and he tightens his grip around Jim’s body. He’s just begun to drift off when he feels clever fingers work on the tie still pressed against his chest, carefully sliding it free of his neck, and Spock wonders how it’s even possible to blush this extensively in one evening.
“No worries, sweetheart. Yer secret’s safe wit me.”
Hearing more soothing affection than cockiness in Jim’s voice, Spock can’t stop a content murmur as he shifts a little closer to Jim, slides a hand down to rests over the fingers still pressed into his side, and lets himself fall asleep.
Pairing: Jim/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The unrepentantly porny aftermath of A Piece of the Action.
Warnings: Light breath play, filthy gangster talk, possessive-as-hell!Jim, bottom!Spock, hand porn, Spock getting crazy turned on by pet names.
A/N: Written because Jim and Spock desperately need to have sex in these suits... and because Jim really needs to call Spock ‘sweetheart’. :D
... Really, need I say more?
As Spock struggles to find something that resembles control, he wonders how the sight of Jim in that snug blue suit - mixed with the rough sound of his normally smooth voice, now curling around that mangled mess of crass gangster slang - can skyrocket his arousal to such heights it’s difficult for Spock to see straight.
“C’mon, Spocko, I know ya want it.”
Jim is murmuring the words into Spock’s ear, his breath warm against the sensitive skin as he curls his fingers into the lapels of Spock’s brown suit jacket, pushing him backwards until he hits the bedroom wall. Spock squeezes his eyes shut at the flash of heat that tears through him, leaving him already struggling for air.
“I saw you down there, Spock.” Jim’s voice gets serious for a moment, his accent gone as he pulls back to look Spock in the eyes, and his abrupt switch between personas sends another jolt of arousal through him. “I know you. I know what to look for. You couldn’t take your eyes off me.”
When Spock can’t find any words to protest, Jim smirks and leans back in, leaving no time for further objections. He casually begins to nibble on Spock’s ear, sending an incinerating flash of heat across the sensitive skin, and a full out tremble starts in response, spreading from Spock’s chest to his knees, and making him clutch at Jim’s shoulders.
“Jim,” he manages, his voice already much raspier than it should be. “I do not doubt that -”
“Oh, no, Spocko.” The nibble turns into a long lick, as Jim trails his tongue down the side of Spock’s neck, grinning against the skin as Spock twitches slightly in response. “Call me captain, or call me boss - but I’m in charge of dis here operation, and my first name ain’t no longer up for grabs, ya got that?”
The twangy words send another wave of heat across his skin, and Spock closes his eyes in defeat, knowing he was gone from the moment Jim showed up at his door.
“Uh uh, don’t ya think that you can hide from dis.” Jim is still making a mess out of Spock’s neck, dragging his teeth and lips and tongue across every inch he can reach, and Spock can’t stop a slightly broken noise. “Ya got into it your role just fine down dere, and now you’re gonna do the same here, and keep dem beautiful brown eyes open. Decided what yer gonna call me?”
Spock can only shake his head, his eyes still squeezed shut, as every inch of his body aches to rub against Jim’s. He feels Jim grin against his neck again, before he presses them together from groin to chest, and slides his hands down to Spock’s ass, pulling them even tighter together.
“Well, I know what I’m gonna call you, Spock.”
Jim is whispering again, and Spock is losing the fight to keep his hips from pressing mindlessly forward, wondering how this man can possibly undo him so easily. Jim’s fingers tighten their grip on his ass, and Spock can’t stop a needy noise.
“Got a little sometin special for ya.”
“Indeed?”
His voice is embarrassingly rough, and when Jim responds by sliding his tongue against his ear, curling it from the bottom to the very tip, Spock’s pretty sure the noise he makes in response isn’t even anything close to a coherent word. He tries to hold it in, but Jim’s pleased hum has an audible smirk, and Spock is still shuddering in response, that simple touch sending him to a place where thought is almost impossible, when Jim lowers his voice even further, and whispers the word into Spock’s ear -
“Sweetheart.”
The endearment tears through Spock’s restraint, jerking his hips mindlessly forward, and when he feels Jim press a thigh against his erection, he can’t stop himself from rubbing back against it. His hands finally drop to clutch at Jim’s ass, trying to pull them closer together.
“Now dat’s more like it.” There’s a grin in his voice as Jim’s hands slip under the bottom of his dress shirt, pressing his cool fingers against Spock’s flushed skin. “Got yerself a bit of a pet name kink?”
Embarrassment keeps Spock silent, and Jim pulls back long enough to twist his hands in the front of Spock’s shirt, the rough movement ramping up his arousal another notice. He somehow gets it undone and off, leaving Spock in his light tan blouse, and he suddenly feels vulnerable as Jim steps back and trails his eyes along Spock’s body.
“Goddamnit, Spock. If I was yer boss, I’d never let ya cover up that body with such an ugly jacket.”
There’s something reverent beneath the twang, and it makes Spock’s heart ache in way that almost overwhelms the need in his groin. Just as he’s beginning to squirm inside at the attention, Jim flashes him a grin and drags his fingers along the expanse of Spock’s chest, before brushing across one sensitive nipple and curling around his tie, tightening the pressure against his neck.
“No complaints, sweetheart?”
The ensuing rush of vertigo leaves Spock swaying slightly, and he knows he’s read Jim correctly when Jim tugs sharply on the tie, forcing him to stumble forward, if he wants to keep breathing. Spock’s heart kicks up its pace another notch, and he reluctantly meets Jim’s eyes, knowing that his arousal is burning there for the entire world to see.
“I will never understand how you always know -”
“You liked me tellin’ ya what to do - more than ya normally do, even. I watched ya.” There’s another tug on his tie, and Spock moves forward until Jim has pulled them together again, his cock hard and hot against Spock’s leg. “When I told ya to sit, you sat, just like the good Vulcan ya’re - and I’d bet dat everyone in de room saw the lust in yer eyes.”
At his rush of mortification at having been so obvious, Spock has to close his eyes again, and he presses his lips tightly together as Jim begins to strip him, murmuring softly in that twang the entire time, sending darts of heat up and down Spock’s body. He can feel a fire beginning to burn deeply inside him, and by the time he’s naked and shoved against the wall again, he’s pretty sure he’s only being kept upright by the strength of the man moulded against him.
“Love ya so much like dis, Spock. The way yer always keeping it together, pretending to be so civilized for the rest of the world, and den lettin’ go with me.” Jim scrapes his teeth along Spock’s shoulder, and Spock can’t stop a shudder. “To know that beneath yer controlled exterior, ya need to give yerself over to someone, to let yerself fall apart in my hands…”
The words are as terrifying as they are arousing, and the notion of falling apart in Jim’s hands is making him want to run - but he knows that he can never leave, because this man inspires something in Spock that strips away his control and rationale thought. Something that turns him into an animalistic being, who can think of nothing beyond pressing them closer together, of being buried deep inside Jim, of having his captain inside him, pushing them both to a place of bliss that Spock had never even imagined could exist -
As his cock hardens even further at the thought of taking Jim inside his body, Spock is suddenly very conscious of how naked he is, when Jim hasn’t even gotten his boots off.
“Dat’s right, Spock.” Jim is still nibbling gently on Spock’s shoulder, and Spock distantly wonders - not for the first time - if Jim has a hint of telepathy in his own mind, as Jim’s hand slides down to rest teasingly against his thigh, so close to where he wants it. “Ya let yerself go, even if it scares ya, and it’s something I’ll never, ever take for granted - I’ll always put ya back together, make sure dat ya can face the world again…”
It’s in that moment that Spock’s lust-addled brain realizes that his tie is still wrapped snugly around his neck, despite that the rest of his clothes have somehow disappeared. It’s another layer of vulnerable on top of how defenceless he already is, and he feels heat creep down his neck as Jim steps back and smirks, trailing his eyes up and down the length of Spock’s body.
“Well, well, wouldja look at dat. Naked and beautiful, flushed green from top to bottom, and I haven’t even gotten out of dis here jacket yet. Think dat’s somethin’ ya can remedy?”
He hates that his hands are trembling as he reaches out, the buttons of Jim’s jacket somehow beyond him until Jim wraps his hands around Spock’s wrists, holding him steady enough to get them undone. He has a momentary flash of anxiety over how much more controlled Jim seems, but then Jim is kissing him again, sliding his hands around and down to squeeze Spock’s bare ass, and Spock can do nothing but arch forward in response, the feel of Jim’s clothed leg against his cock destroying what was left of his sanity.
“Come wit me, Spocko.”
Spock doesn’t protest when fingers tighten around his tie again, and Jim attempts to tug him backward. Spock finds himself resisting for just a moment, until the intoxicating burn of the tie becomes too much, and the need for oxygen draws him forward. Jim’s eyes drop to his neck before flicking back up to Spock’s eyes, and he slowly curls his fingers up to Spock’s collarbone, wrapping the tie completely in his fest, and firmly tugging Spock towards him.
Spock goes without a fight, and the cool lips against his, mixed with the unceasing pressure against his neck, send a maelstrom of sensation across his lips. He finds himself suddenly being turned around, carefully manoeuvred by one hand at his neck and one digging into his hip, and is suddenly able to breathe again when Jim pushes him down onto the bed, nudging him backwards with an expression that suddenly has more desperate need than cockiness.
“Watch me.”
Jim’s voice is rough and low, the desire there an almost tangible sensation, and Spock’s mouth goes dry as Jim slowly relinquishes his grip on Spock’s tie and teasingly slides out of his clothes, the blue pants dropping to the floor, and his shirt fluttering down to rest against his feet. Spock closes his eyes again, overwhelmed by what the sight of Jim’s naked body does to him, and then lets out a hiss when Jim slides into bed, pressing their bare skin together from hips to chest.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Let me see dem beautiful brown eyes.”
He manages to get them open, and the need he sees reflected in Jim’s gaze threatens to undo him completely. He knows he should say something, should try to regain some control over this situation, but his vocal chords have somehow lost the ability to function.
“Dat’s more like it.”
Slowly, never taking his eyes from Spock, Jim reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a bottle of lube, and Spock’s breathing speeds up even further, making it difficult for him to get adequate oxygen. He watches as Jim slicks his fingers, before dragging them down Spock’s leg, leaving a trail of dampness against the inside of his thighs, and making him squirm for greater contact.
“Ya gotta tell me dat ya want dis, sweetheart. I’m de boss here, and your beautiful body is mine, but I want to hear your lovely voice wrap around how much you want me to fuck you.”
Spock closes his eyes again at the crude words, unable to speak, and one finger begins to circle teasingly against his opening, drawing a helpless gasp from his chest. The gentle movement continues without change until Spock’s using all his control to keep his hips on the bed, and he forces his eyes open, almost losing it when he realizes that Jim, instead of watching his fingers dance along the entrance to Spock’s body, has never taken his eyes from Spock’s face.
“Well? Gonna tell me ya want me?”
Jim’s eyes are dilated, his breathing almost as rapid as Spock’s, and yet Spock still can’t seem to speak, his throat completely closed up, rendering him incapable of words.
“I’m waitin’, sweetheart. Ya don’t get nothin’ unless ya want it as much as I do.”
Spock closes his eyes again, finding it easier to force his voice to work if he can’t see the need and almost-awe on Jim’s face. “Jim -”
“Captain.”
Spock exhales sharply and tries to push his body down, wanting to speak in the easiest way he knows how, but Jim’s fingers begin to slide away completely, dragging back up along his thigh -
“No, please -” Spock somehow finds his shaky voice, fighting back panic at the thought of losing that touch, and further frightened by how much he needs this. “I want - I ask that you -”
“Hmm?”
The finger slides back down, putting solid pressure against his opening without sliding in, and Spock can’t stop a shudder. He wants this - he needs this, more than he’s willing to admit - but he’s never been able to say it, and Jim has never pressed him like this -
“C’mon, Spocko, I need to hear how much ya need me.” The tip of one slick finger just barely slips inside, pressing against the muscles there, sending heat streaking through his lower body. “Don’t ya make me beg ya to beg me, dat just defeats de purpose -”
“I need you.”
His voice is little more than a ragged whisper, the sound grating against his ears, and he keeps his eyes squeezed shut as new warmth spreads across his cheeks. The admission seems to have loosened something inside him, while at the same time twisting him even tighter, reminding him of how dangerous it is to want someone this much, but making it impossible for him to care about safety and sanity -
“If you insist on hearing the words,” he continues, his voice nothing more than a whisper, his eyes still squeezed shut, unexpected heat spreading through his body at the words slipping from his mouth, “Then yes, Captain, I need you.”
There is silence for an agonizing moment, Jim’s finger frozen against his body, and both of them barely seem to be breathing.
Then -
“Goddamnit, Spock.”
Jim roughly rasps out the words and then kisses him again, sliding up to find his lips even as he slides that finger completely inside, and the slight burn of it makes Spock gasp against Jim’s mouth. He suddenly can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs, as Jim has begun kissing him with almost bruising force, and when a second finger slips in easily to find the first, the slight stretch is not nearly enough.
“More.”
When Spock grates out the single word, the fingers inside him twist slightly, just as Jim’s teeth bite down against his lower lip, and Spock tries to push himself closer, the slight flash of pain spreading heat from his mouth to his chest.
“Who said dat you get to give the orders?”
Spock holds back a noise that would be embarrassingly close to a whimper, curls his fingers into the bed sheets, and tries to lie still as Jim’s fingers continue to twist inside him, never pressing against the place he desperately wants them to.
“Jim -”
“Mm, I did say dat I wanted ta hear yer voice.”
Before Spock can manage a response, Jim is rubbing a third finger around his entrance, the sensation nothing more than a tease. Biting back a groan, Spock tries with all his might to not be so easily undone, but that fails when his hips push down involuntarily, and he can feel Jim grin against his lips.
“Yer adorable, sweetheart.”
Something desperate flashes through Spock, and the low growl that escapes his lips has Jim groaning and licking around the edge of Spock’s mouth, two fingers still stroking gently inside him. Trying to think through the pleasure shooting across his body, Spock distantly realizes that he’s almost tearing the sheets beneath him, as a third finger slides inside with agonizing slowness, and Jim begins tracing gentle nips across Spock’s lips.
“Yer doin’ good, luv. God, I wish you could see yerself.”
Something inside him responds to the praise by spreading a new wave of heat across his entire body, and he can’t stop a groan as those three fingers stretch slightly outward, before coming together and curling upwards, putting pressure against the spot that makes fireworks go off behind Spock’s vision. He only realizes he’s squeezed his eyes shut when warm lips press against an eyelid, and he opens them to find Jim watching him with almost frightening heat.
“Ready for more?”
Spock can only nod, and his back arches helplessly as Jim presses his fingers upwards one last time, moving them in tight little circles and drawing a gasp from Spock’s throat. After a moment of almost painful pleasure, Jim exhales shakily and carefully slides them out, leaving Spock empty and aching, and Spock does his best to stop a protesting noise, biting down on his lip and closes his eyes again.
“Uh uh, keep dem eyes open.”
The sound of Jim’s hand spreading lubricant on his own cock is already dangerously close to sensation overload, and Spock keeps his eyes closed, every inch of him aching to be owned by this man.
“I said eyes open, sweetheart.”
His legs are unceremoniously hauled up, and he forces his eyes open as he wraps his legs around Jim’s waist, Jim’s cock resting with unyielding pressure against the entrance to his body. The vulnerability simply sends another burst of heat through his body, and Spock somehow keeps eyes open as Jim wraps their hands together and deliberately pins them above Spock’s head, pressing their fingers together in a sloppy imitation of a Vulcan kiss, and then waits, his eyes never leaving Spock’s.
“Jim -”
Spock’s choked exclamation is cut short by the unforgiving pressure of Jim sliding inside him, and his body arches to accept the intrusion, unable to get close enough, every inch of him desperate for more. As Jim curses and gently rocks forward, slowly working himself deeper, Spock finds his hands snapping free to clutch at Jim’s hips, and Jim gasps helplessly as Spock yanks him forward, groaning as his body is finally filled.
“Jesus, Spock.”
Spock distantly realizes that any hint of an accent is gone, and the surge of pride that comes from distracting Jim so completely has him deliberately squeezing his muscles tighter around Jim, the sensation making them both groan again, twin sounds of desperate need. Jim finally begins to move, Spock’s fingers still digging mercilessly into his hips, and they start a slow rhythm that has Jim muttering curses, even as Spock wordlessly begs for more, his fingers travelling all over Jim’s body, trying to touch as much skin as they can, sensation shooting through his fingers and into his wrists.
“You - kissing me with your hands,” Jim suddenly gasps, desperate arousal lacing every word, and Spock responds by digging his nails into Jim’s back, causing Jim to thrust forward with enough strength to drive a grunt from Spock’s chest. “Have - have I ever mentioned - how hot that is? That every fucking time you touch me -”
The sound of Jim’s panted words has Spock holding back an embarrassing sound of need, and he silences Jim by pressing their mouths together, his arousal spiralling higher as Jim moves a little faster, the pressure and stretch inside his body mixing with the feel of warm skin under his fingers -
Then Jim changes his angle slightly, finally brushing against that bundle of nerves that sends a sheet of white across Spock’s eyes, and Spock is left struggling to breathe through a humiliating whining sound. Jim responds with a stuttered curse, thrusting forward harder, and Spock can’t stop himself from curling forward to bite against Jim’s shoulder, his fingers down digging into Jim’s back.
“Fuck, Spock - you -”
Spock realizes that he’s closed his eyes again, and when he opens them, the sight of Jim’s beautifully flushed face has him biting back a whimper, the warmth in those brown eyes just as incinerating as the unforgiving press of Jim’s cock deep inside him. Slowing his thrusts just slightly, and ignoring the whine that spills from Spock’s throat, Jim manages to pry one clutching hand loose from his back. When Spock feels his fingers slide into Jim’s damp mouth, that tongue tracing circles and lines across sensitive skin, he finds himself teetering on the edge of oblivion, grasping tighter with his other hand as Jim thrusts forward harder than before, his body dragging across the aching cock pressed against Spock’s stomach.
“Fuck, Spock, so fucking beautiful -”
Spock helplessly presses his fingers harder into Jim’s mouth, searching for more contact, arching up to get more pressure against his cock - and then suddenly a hand is wrapped around the tie he’d forgotten he still had on, pulling tight and cutting off his air for just a second, as a warm tongue mixes with the slightest hint of teeth against his palm - sending tendrils of heat and need to every inch of his body, raging the inferno inside him even higher, as he continues to rub his cock against the damp body pressed down against his -
“Come on, sweetheart.”
As the uncensored affection in Jim’s whisper smashes the last vestiges of Spock’s control, he feels the world explode around him, pleasure morphing into a shower of sparks and stars, and he hears himself gasping the same name over and over, his fingers still buried in intoxicating heat. His limbs feel like lead, and he barely registers the low grunt of his name as Jim finally lets himself go, digging his teeth into Spock’s shoulder as heat explodes inside Spock’s body, drawing a last helpless groan from each of their chests.
“Goddamn, Spock.”
Jim is muttering vague obscenities into his neck, his body a dead weight on top of Spock, and Spock can’t stop the tiniest twitch of his lips, sudden happiness sending tendrils of warmth across his body. He presses his half-smile into the dampness of Jim’s hair, and then rolls them so that he can wrap his arms around Jim, already missing the feeling of Jim inside him, their mouths resting just inches apart on the pillow.
“You take far too much pleasure in reducing me to pleas.”
He can hear the reluctant embarrassment in his voice, and Jim snuggles closer with a quiet laugh, slipping a hand down to rest again the racing heart pressed against Jim’s hipbone. “Says the Vulcan who gets off on being called ‘sweetheart’.”
Spock closes his eyes in further embarrassment, unable to stop blood from rushing to his already heated face, but the brush of lips across his leaves him sighing with contentment, and he tightens his grip around Jim’s body. He’s just begun to drift off when he feels clever fingers work on the tie still pressed against his chest, carefully sliding it free of his neck, and Spock wonders how it’s even possible to blush this extensively in one evening.
“No worries, sweetheart. Yer secret’s safe wit me.”
Hearing more soothing affection than cockiness in Jim’s voice, Spock can’t stop a content murmur as he shifts a little closer to Jim, slides a hand down to rests over the fingers still pressed into his side, and lets himself fall asleep.