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The door of their quarters shut behind Spock at the end of an exhausting day. They had taken aboard a party of scientists—three human women, one Vulcan male, and one Andorian shen—and most of the day had been taken up with taking them on tours, showing them the lab space they would use during their journey, and answering their many questions.
Jim was waiting already, sitting at his computer terminal with his shoes off. He smiled at Spock’s appearance. “Did they finally let you go?”
“They will doubtless have more questions tomorrow. But for the present, yes.”
“Always tiring when we have passengers. I only had to be there for the first part and they wore me out.”
“You were aroused when you were introduced to the blonde scientist,” Spock commented.
“I’m not into her,” Jim said defensively. “It’s just she had her tits halfway out of her dress, and the human body doesn’t always know the difference—”
“I am aware,” interrupted Spock. This was not the first time Jim had misinterpreted his behavior as jealousy. “However it shows that you may be sexually unsatisfied.”
Jim was, if anything, more indignant. “You sucked out my brain through my dick last night. I saw Jesus.”
“That was over twenty-four hours ago now,” Spock pointed out. “If you are not otherwise engaged tonight, I would like to tend to your needs again.”
Jim smirked. “My needs. Right. I think you’re the one who can’t go a day without your fix.” But he clearly was not complaining, as he rose to his feet and began to strip.
“Any preferences?” asked Spock.
“The strap?” Jim asked. “Been a while since we took it out.”
Spock nodded agreeably and went to the drawer where they kept their favorite synthetic phallus. It was pale sage green, generally Vulcan in anatomy though not specifically based on Spock’s actual penis. The size was average—Spock was a believer in finesse, not overwhelming Jim by mere size—and it had both self-lubricating and vibrating settings.
Spock stripped to undershorts and black thermal shirt, their usual compromise between Spock’s desire to be dressed and Jim’s desire not to feel like he was “getting fucked on the bridge.” Spock didn’t see a negative in this; a scene in which Spock was in uniform and they pretended they were on duty might be enjoyable. But Jim could be sensitive about his submission in their relationship.
Usually, putting down the burden of decisions was a rest for him after long days of commanding the ship. But once in a while, he couldn’t or didn’t wish to lay that burden down, and those were the times Spock let Jim sit on his face or masturbate to completion on his chest. It didn’t seem clear what, exactly, he was contributing in the latter case, but from Jim’s reaction it was definitely something.
Once the harness was in place, Spock approached Jim where he lay on the bed. He had not yet attached the green phallus, but held it in his hand. Jim’s lips parted hungrily, mind already producing fantasies of how it would feel inside him.
“Hold this,” said Spock, sliding the head of the phallus between Jim’s lips.
Jim’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth further, taking it in as far as he could. Spock let Jim suck on it while he began to finger him. Jim’s mouth must be accounted one of his erogenous zones, as he became ready much more quickly when it was occupied with something.
Over their growing bond, Jim had heard that thought. He took hold of the toy’s base and pulled it slowly out of his mouth with a soft slurp. “You usually occupy it with your mouth,” he protested.
Spock kissed him, thrusting his tongue in several times, and then replaced the phallus. “I needed a place to store it,” he said.
Smiling around the toy, Jim busied himself with fellating it, using his hand to lower it deeper into his throat and pull it out again. It was a most entrancing sight.
Meanwhile Spock’s fingers were sliding easily in and out of Jim, eased by a copious quantity of lubricant. Jim was almost ready, but there was no reason to rush him, not when he was enjoying the toy so much where it was. Spock adjusted the angle of his fingers and pressed in again, his thumb stroking along Jim’s perineum.
Jim lurched as Spock found his prostate, moaning around the phallus, followed with soft high begging noises. There was no need to speak; the bond made Jim’s thoughts quite clear, as well as transmitting the pleasure he was feeling. But Spock stimulated his prostate several more times before he removed the phallus from Jim’s mouth.
“Oh god yes,” said Jim hoarsely the moment his mouth was free. “I want you in me.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. His fingers were himself, and the strap was not, but it was rather appealing the way Jim accepted the toy as an extension of himself. As if it made no real difference that it was silicone.
He filled the reservoir at the object’s base with lubricant, until it began to seep out the double ridges, and then fitted it into place in the harness. Perhaps it did make no difference that it was silicone. It belonged to him, it gave him pleasure (over the bond, when he put it in Jim), and the fact that it could go back in the drawer when this was over only made it more convenient than a human penis.
He rolled Jim over onto his front, pulled him up onto all fours, and slowly, gently, pushed it in. Jim loved this part, and made it known vocally with unabashed grunts. Spock stroked Jim’s back and neck lightly. “You are being very good for me, Jim.”
The words had the expected effect: an explosion of lust in Jim’s mind, and Jim rocking back eagerly against the strap. Spock took hold of Jim’s hips and began to thrust into him in earnest. The sensations arising in Jim’s mind were delicious, felt almost as if Jim were an extension of his own body, the part that felt pleasure. “You are mine,” he said, voice dipping into a lower register. “My instrument.”
“Fuck yes,” said Jim. “Use me. Take it all.”
Spock slammed in harder, until Jim was unable to speak, making little wordless cries. He picked up one hand to stroke himself but Spock took that hand and restrained it. He would not have this over too soon. He waited till Jim was desperate, till the sounds coming out of him were high and helpless, and then he pulled out.
He flipped Jim over easily, deftly freed the phallus from the harness, and pushed it back into Jim, setting it to vibrate. Then he rearranged himself until his mouth was poised over Jim’s weeping erection. “Would you like to reach climax, Jim?” he asked, raising one eyebrow, mainly to see if Jim could answer. Or rather, to prove that he couldn’t.
“Nggggh,” said Jim, but his mind was clear about what he wanted.
Spock licked up Jim’s erection, swirled his tongue around the head, and finally lowered his head to take it in. The musk of it, the human saltiness, was a familiar flavor now, one deeply associated in his mind with the pleasure he was used to wringing out of Jim when he tasted it. He sucked diligently, quite finished with teasing. Jim groaned, bucked, and spilled into Spock’s mouth, mind pouring into Spock’s in much the same way, spilling its load of pleasure. Like an explosion of light, or a sweet flavor, all tasting of Jim.
Spock swallowed around him, making sure he got it all, and then finally switched off the toy. Tonight had been most satisfactory. Jim was lost to the world for the moment, eyes glassily fixed on the ceiling, and Spock determined he had time to clean himself up before Jim was aware again.
He removed the phallus from Jim and carried it into the bathroom to wash it and place it in its sterilizing box. Then he freed himself from the harness and placed that in the laundry chute.
Looking down at himself, he raised an eyebrow. The crotch of his undershorts was wet. He did not often sweat, and he did not think he was bleeding. He touched the wet patch and rubbed his fingers together. The mysterious liquid was slick.
It must be spilled lubricant, he decided, and left the bathroom to obtain a fresh pair of boxers.
Jim was relieved to find that, on the following day, the crew of scientists seemed to have settled in. They would be here for the next week and a half, till they reached Epsilon Ursae VI, where they meant to establish a research post.
They were here now in the mess for lunch, sitting with several of Spock’s science team. “It looks like they’ve made some friends,” Jim pointed out to Spock.
Spock did not seem to be listening. He was staring fixedly at them, like a bird dog pointing. At the Vulcan, in particular.
“Spock? Is the Vulcan giving you dirty looks? I can deal with him.”
Spock rose to his feet abruptly. “One moment, Jim.” He strode over to the Vulcan scientist, bent down, and spoke quietly to him. The man looked deeply startled, eyes widening, glancing around himself. Spock said something further, and the Vulcan got to his feet and hurried from the room.
“What was that all about?” asked Jim. “What did he do?”
“It is not a matter of what he did,” said Spock. “It is a matter of how he smells. Have you finished eating? I must speak with you alone.”
Jim looked down at his tray. He’d eaten everything but the apple, so he scooped it up to take with him and put his tray in the slot. “How he smells,” he mouthed to himself as he followed Spock from the mess. Spock was almost speed-walking down the hall, and he had to half-jog to catch up.
“Have you never wondered,” asked Spock, once they had hit the empty corridor of deck 5, “how Vulcan spouses manage their mates’ Time?”
Jim blinked. “I always assumed they synced up.”
“They do not,” said Spock. He reached their room, punched the door release with the side of his fist, and went inside. Jim followed, still taken aback. Spock was acting as though he’d catch fire if he were in the public eye a moment longer.
Spock sat on his bed, the tension leaking out of his posture, resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead against his steepled fingers. “They emit pheromones,” he said after a moment. “Pheromones which cause nearby Vulcans to become sexually receptive. It is why a Vulcan experiencing their time normally goes out to the desert, to the place of kun-ut-kalifee.”
Jim stared at him. “And Dr. Verik is—”
“He is approaching his,” confirmed Spock. “He was not aware; there were no other Vulcans present to inform him. Fortunately he is in a relationship already with Dr. Sh’rel, so when the situation becomes urgent, he has all he needs with him.”
Jim nodded, pulling at his lip as his brain started to kick into gear. “But his pheromones are affecting you,” he concluded. “Perhaps if we put his quarters on a separate air supply—”
Spock looked up abruptly. “That is unnecessary, Jim.”
“It doesn’t affect you?”
Spock straightened, letting his knees fall open. He was visibly aroused, his black uniform pants tented over something quite large. “It affects me,” he said, low. “I simply…have considered letting it affect me. You might enjoy it.”
Jim stared. Dragging his eyes back to Spock’s face, he asked, “You’re suggesting going through pon farr yourself, voluntarily?”
Spock shook his head. “Not pon farr itself. We call this state pon gol’nev. Time of assistance. I will be capable of sexual activity for the next several days, but I do not need it, and I will maintain the use of my faculties.”
Jim nodded slowly. “Well, that’s better. But you don’t have to go through it on my account. Our sex life is already great, and I know there are a lot of reasons behind you not wanting to, not just hormones.”
“Jim, I am now aroused by you for the first time,” said Spock. “So far, the experience is…not unpleasant. It strikes me as a more controlled scenario to test my sexual response to you than pon farr will be. Perhaps we might…experiment.”
Crossing the floor between them, Jim sank to his knees at Spock’s feet. He was at eye level now with that tempting bulge, which was soaking through the fabric containing it. He’d been afraid to be too eager, since he didn’t want Spock to feel pressured, but the thought of getting to see Spock come was irresistible. He looked up at Spock’s face. “Do you want me to take you off duty now?”
Spock shook his head. “I can finish out the shift. I need to replicate the proper undergarments to hide the condition, but then I will return to the bridge.”
Spock could not help but be distracted by the situation.
He had woken up with an odd congestion in his groin, still undetectable from the outside, but uncomfortable. Throughout the morning he had felt the swelling increase, as well as the moisture, and he had been more than usually distracted by the captain’s appearance, by the way his mate rubbed his mouth with his hand or played with his lips when he was thinking.
The arrival of Dr. Verik had explained all. As soon as the man had been in the room about two minutes, Spock had become fully aroused, his lok slipping from its sheath in a gush of fluid. Embarrassing to happen in public, but he found he was not otherwise distressed by it. It could not be further from his pon farr experience, when he had felt ashamed, desperate, trapped by his vow to T’Pring, certain he would be doomed into a loveless bonding. Now it simply was. His lok rubbed lightly against his damp undergarments, an oddly pleasurable sensation, and whenever he looked at Jim, it throbbed eagerly.
Jim would touch it, and they both would enjoy the experience very much.
Before his relationship with Jim, sex had seemed foreign, incomprehensible. Now he had months of experience, albeit secondhand. He knew what it felt like, in the mind; the steps that were taken and how long it took. Knowledge was a surefire antidote to trepidation.
And he was free now. He did not have to do it at all. This wasn’t his pon farr; he would not die if the prospect turned out to be more intimidating than it felt at a distance and he chose to desist.
Jim would not be angry with him either; he had been very emphatic on this point. He was not Leila. His chief goal in any sexual encounter was their mutual satisfaction, in whatever form it took. He had generously offered his body for Spock’s pleasure for the whole of their relationship, without demanding reciprocation, and would be willing to continue in that form indefinitely.
It was likely this fact that made him curious rather than reluctant. It was a fully optional thing which he could explore if he wanted to.
The second half of the shift passed, subjectively, like the slow spreading of syrup. Spock got very little done. He felt the ache of his lok inside its sheath, where his purpose-made undergarment kept it from everting. Whenever he moved, a gush of fluid seeped out and was wicked away by the absorbent material. He turned to look at Jim at least twice as often as usual, and that only because he resisted the urge to do so even more often.
What would they do, when the shift completed and they retired to their cabin?
It was difficult to judge. He did not know what Jim’s skills were, what he liked to do to a person. Would he prefer to touch with his hands or his mouth? It felt strange to imagine being touched.
Best, perhaps, to stick to the familiar: he could penetrate Jim as he had last night, but with his organic phallus rather than their usual substitute. He knew how to do that, and he knew that Jim liked it.
He lost six point four two minutes in a detailed plan of how, exactly, that might go. He would pleasure Jim orally first, rather than after, leave him wanting more, and then slowly ease into him. Jim would feel his pleasure for once; it might go very quickly because of that. Spock would not have such complete control over how much pleasure Jim felt, but he would still be the active partner and be able to pace things for their mutual enjoyment. Jim would make his delicious noises. It seemed likely that Spock would climax unexpectedly at the mere sound of them. He would thrust deeply into Jim and—
His lok throbbed and dripped, and he startled back to work. He had been working at 79% efficiency compared to his baseline, and that was thoroughly unacceptable.
The shift finally came to an end. Neither of them made any pretense about going to dinner first. Spock went directly to their cabin, and Jim followed after. “I’m no expert at reading you over the bond,” said Jim, “but you felt incredibly horny.”
“I was,” said Spock. He took hold of Jim’s hips and pushed them back against the wall. “I am.”
Jim raised his mouth to be kissed and Spock obliged him. It was a microcosm of sex itself, he realized, their tongues thrusting into each other’s mouths, frotting against each other. He reached down with one hand to cup the swelling in Jim’s pants, fingers mapping out the shape of his erection.
Jim’s neck arched, head knocking back against the wall. “Can I touch you too? Or do we have to take that cock cage diaper off first?”
“It is neither a cock cage nor a diaper,” said Spock, stepping back to unfasten his pants. “It is an ain-tevan. A decency garment.”
“Very respectable,” said Jim, smirking. “I see Vulcans are prepared for everything.”
Spock removed his pants and boots and stood in the tight black undergarment. Inflexible straps, buckled tightly at the sides, kept the front flat and therefore his sheath tightly shut. Jim knelt to examine it, fingers tracing the still-visible swelling within. It was reaching the limit of its absorbency, and Jim brought his slick fingers to his mouth to taste them. “You’ve been dripping all day, haven’t you?” he asked wonderingly.
“Evidently.”
Jim’s hands went to the buckles and he looked up for permission. At Spock’s nod, he released both buckles at once. The sheathed lok surged forward, pushing out of the slit and pressing against the tight material.
“God,” said Jim. “Fuck. Can I—?”
“I put myself at your disposal, Jim.”
Jim mouthed at the fabric-covered erection, sucking slick out of the cloth. A powerful rush of sensation passed over Spock’s entire body. A sound escaped his mouth. Somehow his hands were in Jim’s hair, holding his head in place.
He was suddenly terrified. He was not in control. His body was moving on its own, making sounds on its own. He was yanking at Jim’s head without even thinking.
He had been wrong, when he had imagined what this would be like. His experience of the sexual impulse came only from Jim, what he had felt in Jim’s mind. But Vulcan desire was quite different. Vulcans spoke of desire as flame, earthquake, thunder—powerful, irresistible. It was coiling in him now. All at once he remembered his pon farr. He had felt this way then, and it had not even gone so far as he intended to go now.
Letting go of Jim’s head, he stepped backward abruptly. Jim let him go, sinking back on his heels to regard Spock with concern. “Did you feel that I liked that?” he asked quietly.
Spock shook his head. “I was—too caught up in myself,” he said, in an agony of shame. “I am unused to this.”
Jim rose to his feet. “It’s all right. We’re figuring this out.” He rested his hands on Spock’s upper arms, squeezing lightly to ground him. “How do you want to do this? Start with what we usually do, or experiment? You should know I’m not scared of being pushed around a little.”
Spock stared at the floor between them. “You are not the one who is afraid.”
“Oh, my love.” Jim gathered him up, pressing Spock’s forehead down against his shoulder with a hand against the back of his head. His fingers stroked soothingly through Spock’s hair. “Why don’t we get undressed, and just cuddle a while.”
Spock did not wish to just cuddle. But getting undressed seemed an acceptable beginning. He took off his shirt and undershirt, then carefully peeled off the ain-tevan, letting his lok spring free. Glancing up at Jim, he saw the way those hazel eyes dilated looking at it, the way the soft pink tongue ran over his lips. That was appealing in a more comfortable way. He knew he liked giving Jim pleasure. Usually Jim did not show his physical interest in Spock so openly, but Spock knew he felt it.
Jim shucked out of his own clothes casually, draping them over his desk chair. Spock let his eyes rove over that rosy, compact body. He had always liked that body, liked touching it, liked watching its many poses. But the way he liked it now was different. It made him feel hot; it made him want to rub himself against it.
Lying on the bed, Jim watched him with hooded eyes, erection poking up unattended. “Want to join me, or just look?”
As if jolted into action, Spock came to him, crawling over him and lying down directly atop him, so his lok was pressed pleasantly into Jim’s thigh. Jim sucked in his breath. “Am I crushing you?” Spock asked, propping himself up a little on one elbow.
“No.” Jim’s hands rested on his left buttock and his lower back, both pressing lightly down. “You could crush me more if you wanted.”
Spock rocked experimentally against Jim’s thigh. It was something Jim sometimes did on him, when he felt the need to be the active partner. The pleasure that shot through him was intense, but it came with that frightening compulsiveness, that need to continue. Spock did not like needing anything. He tested himself, rocking a little, forcing himself to stop, rocking a little more.
“You could stop if you wanted,” said Jim, intuiting his thoughts. “Your body knows what to do and nudges you to do it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t stop.”
“The human sexual response may be that way,” said Spock. “I do not know if this is true for Vulcans. During pon farr I know it is not.”
Jim’s hands stroked reassuringly over his back. “What do you know about the Vulcan sexual response?”
The question distracted him from the angry need in his loins, and he focused on answering it. “It is not so—abrupt—as with yours. Yours leads exponentially to a climax and then diminishes. The Vulcan response could be plotted more like series of waves. After one climax, the intensity reduces gradually before rising toward the next climax. There are often four or five before the end of a mating session.”
Jim smiled. “I can work with that. So maybe we try for one, and see if that takes the edge off?”
Spock shook his head. “It will not ‘take the edge off.’ It will increase my desire for the next one. Only after the second or third does the intensity begin to decline, until it reaches the point where exhaustion becomes stronger than the need for another climax.” Talking about increasing desire was stimulating, to the point that he rubbed a little more on Jim’s leg, biting his lip. Stopping was becoming increasingly difficult. His legs trembled a little with the desire to continue. And it would get worse.
Jim looked thoughtful. “Spock, you know you’re rubbing on me, too. It feels really good, what you’re doing.”
Spock took stock of their position, of Jim’s erection pushing into his lower belly. “I have been very self-absorbed,” he said, low.
“You’re not used to the firsthand intensity,” said Jim. “It’s drowning out the secondhand kind. That doesn’t make you selfish.”
Trembling slightly, Spock adjusted himself so that their erections were touching, side by side between their bodies, and moved against him that way. Jim’s erection slid in the slickness from his, and he let out a moan.
The moan made Spock feel more desperate still. He had to move to obtain more of that erotic sound. He thrust against Jim, pleasure spiraling higher and higher. He ought to stop. He could not. He was helpless in the grip of it, he was undisciplined—
“Stop,” said Jim sharply.
Spock froze. His chest heaved. “I am sorry—” he began.
“You stopped,” said Jim soothingly. “I just wanted to show you you could. If I needed you to, you always could. But please, please go on now, and don’t stop anymore.”
With a shuddering breath of relief, Spock began to move again. Jim’s hips rocked back against him, matching his rhythm. They rubbed together deliciously, and now he could feel the echo of his own pleasure, Jim’s pleasure in the back of his mind, that familiar and beautiful feeling. It piled on his own, too sweet to bear, too sweet to stop. Jim did not want him to stop.
He moved faster and faster, Jim matching his pace, hot human fingers slipping on his back in their hot human sweat. They were wet where they joined together, slickly smooth. Jim’s breath heaved and caught. He was close. But Spock was closer, chenesi tightening in his back. He thrust against Jim, coming in spurts, spurt after spurt as he kept moving. It was beginning to taper off when Jim came as well, spilling hot between them.
Spock kept moving, because he was still coming and it was impossible to stop now. But there was a discordant sensation in his mind. Jim was becoming overstimulated. He shifted a little to the side, so as not to make him uncomfortable, but he kept rocking slowly against Jim’s hip for another full minute, until all his ejaculate had trickled out and he was finished. He rested his weight against Jim, still pressing his lok on his hip.
“I see what you mean,” said Jim, his voice lazy with post-orgasmic lassitude. “You come for a really long time.”
“I am sorry,” said Spock. “I could not stop.”
“I didn’t want you to. Imagine cheating you of two thirds of your orgasm. No thanks. You moved over and that was just fine.”
“I do not think I can penetrate you,” he said abruptly. “I had intended to. But I do not have the control necessary.”
“I think it would be hot to—”
“No.” Spock’s voice was firm. “Not until later at least.” He moved off Jim at last and reached over to the drawer by the bed where Jim kept his washcloths. The mess on Jim’s abdomen was copious, much more than Jim usually made by himself, and Spock’s ears twitched with embarrassment as he cleaned it off. His lok did not retract into his body; it was still hard and wanted more.
Jim put his hand over Spock's, as he grasped the washcloth. “Spock,” he said, earnestly. “It's all good.”
Spock finished cleaning Jim off and dropped the washcloth beside the bed in uncharacteristic sloth. He could not imagine leaving the bed now. Instead he lay down beside Jim and tried to believe him. It was all good. It would be all right.
Jim came up on his elbow to watch his lover. He was awed, honored to have the privilege to see Spock come undone. He had to make this perfect for him. This was his first time, and he'd had so much dread of it once. Spock deserved to feel perfectly safe, and at the same time experience all the pleasure he could take. He'd done so much for Jim all this time. It was finally Jim's chance to give back.
The lull that Spock had referenced was clearly not that deep. He had lain back down on his back, but his hand still rubbed absently at his cock, as if he wasn't aware he was doing it.
“So you want me to take the lead now?” Jim asked.
“If you would,” said Spock anxiously. “I want—so much—and I do not wish to hurt you.”
Jim thought his worry on the subject was a little cute. Spock had been quite gentle with him so far. He bent down and kissed Spock slowly, making him whimper a little and writhe. “Damn,” he breathed, “you are still so turned on.”
“Terribly, Jim,” said Spock apologetically. “But I can wait until you are ready for more. Or if you leave the room I will attempt to bring myself back under control.”
Jim smiled, reaching down to replace Spock's hand with his. “I’m not tapping out yet, Spock. You of all people should know I don't have to be hard to please you.”
Spock let him take over, his own hand moving down to fondle the edges of his sheath, sliding the fingers inside a little. Jim watched in fascination as he continued to stroke. The sheath was incredibly wet, more fluid displaced with every movement of Spock's fingers. “How deep is that thing?” he asked.
Spock raised an eyebrow and pushed his first two fingers inside all the way. “Fairly deep, it seems.”
Jim moved down the bed to get closer to the action. Spock's long fingers were still buried in his sheath, under the root of his cock, and Jim licked over the rest of his hand and up his cock.
Spock moaned and spread his legs wider, hips thrusting upward. Jim took this as approval and mouthed at the head of his cock, sliding his tongue between the ridges. Tentatively he slid two of his own fingers against Spock’s, into the sheath, to meet in an obscene Vulcan kiss.
The noise Spock made was unholy. Jim grasped the root of his cock firmly and slid his mouth down over it. A few caresses with his tongue and he drew off, sucking as he went. His other fingers wiggled, still trapped in the sheath against Spock’s.
“Jim,” said Spock. “ Mirann. Oh.” His legs slammed shut, trapping Jim’s shoulders almost painfully. He thrust upward, toward Jim’s mouth.
Jim had a feeling that asking him to be still wouldn’t work, and he wasn’t close to strong enough to hold Spock’s hips down. So he adjusted his position to take Spock deeper into his throat and let him do it, tears in his eyes as Spock moaned and fucked his mouth.
He could only take so much of that, though, and what was more he was getting hard again. So he carefully drew off, turning sideways to worm his way out from between Spock’s powerful thighs. Spock groaned, legs flopping open, pulling his fingers out of himself. “I am sorry, Jim, I—”
“Shh, no apologies,” said Jim, giving the green cock a few gentle strokes to tide him over as he moved up between Spock’s legs. “Just tell me, ass or sheath.”
Spock stared up at him, his white second eyelids slowly lifting from his eyes. “For—”
“For me to fuck you in,” Jim explained. “If those long fingers can fit in your sheath, most of my cock could, but if you’d prefer your ass—”
Spock looked as though he had been given a glorious revelation, as if the clouds were parting and angels were singing. “Sheath, please,” he said, a green flush spreading over his cheeks.
Jim rubbed his cock against the sides of the sheath, alongside Spock’s erection, and then below it to the deepest part, where Spock’s fingers had been. It was incredibly slick. He eased in, a little at a time, waiting to see if he wouldn’t all fit.
He fit. It was loose and shallow naturally, but as he pushed in, it stretched around him, tightening. Completely inside, he nudged the root of Spock’s erection upward, making the whole cock bob interestingly. “Fuck,” he breathed.
“Indeed,” said Spock. His hand stole between them to take hold of his cock and stroke it. “Please move, Jim.”
Jim moved. Gently at first, rocking inward, and then harder, snapping his hips and rearranging him a little on every stroke. Spock moaned, head thrashing from side to side, clearly lost entirely to the world.
Jim didn’t catch the beginning of Spock’s orgasm, as his face was already contorted with bliss, but as it picked up, he could feel the throb in Spock’s sheath and glanced down to see cum hitting Spock’s belly in thick, scanty jets.
He kept moving, thrusting as hard as he could, as fast as he could. Spock’s pleasure was a slow-blooming explosion in his mind, mounting higher and higher. It would take Jim along with it if he wasn’t careful. But he didn’t dare come now. “Fuck, Spock,” he whispered between gasps. “So beautiful like this—so good—come for me—yes—keep coming—”
Spock’s hand on his cock pumped faster and faster and then, bit by bit, started to slow. Jim matched his pace, trembling a little with how close he had come to orgasm himself. “That’s right,” he murmured. “Just like that. Look at you.”
Spock looked wrecked, his second eyelids shut again, his mouth open and panting. His hips gave little jerks as new spurts fell on top of the first ones. Jim kept thinking he was done and then it turned out there was one more spasm, a few more drops.
At last Spock’s eyes cleared to brown again, a beautiful, vulnerable expression. “That was…indeed…more intense,” he mumbled.
Jim started to pull out, only to find Spock’s legs wrapped tightly around his back, keeping him in place. “Can you stay there?” Spock asked, eyes wide and hopeful. “Please?”
Jim took a shaky breath. “For now, yeah. I think I can.”
Spock levered himself upright, so he was facing Jim with his legs splayed on either side. Deftly he moved Jim to sit upright as well, getting them into a position where their legs faced opposite ways like a spider. He kissed Jim, wet, passionate, and entirely without finesse. His hands, as they slid down Jim’s chest, were shaking a little.
Spock broke away, panting. “Are you all right, Jim? I fear I am too much for you.”
“Never,” said Jim loyally. “Doubt I’ll last another round though. I almost came with you this time.”
“I want you to,” said Spock.
“But you know I can’t keep inside you once I do.”
Spock nodded reluctantly. His hips were rocking a little, pushing Jim’s cock in and out of himself a fraction. His own wet cock pressed into Jim’s belly. “When you do, I shall—I shall continue with my hands. You need not—”
“I’ll still have my hands,” Jim pointed out.
“While we are still able,” Spock began, then hesitated. All at once he blurted, “I would like you to penetrate my anus also.”
Jim hid his smile against Spock’s shoulder. Fetching some of the slickness from Spock’s dripping sheath, he slid his hand around under Spock to finger him there. Spock hiked up into Jim’s lap, to give him access.
As soon as the first finger breached him, Spock wailed and began rocking back hard. Jim bit his lip, struggling to stay focused on what his fingers were doing. Hard to do when a tight wet sheath was sliding up and down his cock like that.
“I think you’re ready,” he murmured after a minute.
Spock did not pause. He rocked forward onto Jim’s cock, backward onto his fingers, breath heaving.
Jim clutched his hips, more as a signal to stop than an attempt to stop him physically. “Spock, if you want me in your ass you gotta let me out of your pussy.”
At the last word, Spock shuddered and gripped him tightly around the shoulders. But he finally pulled himself off Jim’s cock and then lowered himself back on, as Jim guided it into the right hole.
It was much tighter than the sheath. If Jim had his Vulcan biology right, that would put his cock right up against Spock’s chenesi, pushing between them at every stroke. In any event, Spock clearly loved it and started moving immediately, his powerful legs flexing to bounce him up and down.
“God, Spock,” Jim breathed. “You’ve never fucked me like this before. You’re like a man on a mission. You want it so bad.”
Spock gave a small affirmative grunt. He was already beyond speech again. His body was hot and tight, and Jim knew he wasn’t going to last. Not without a break, and it was obvious Spock couldn’t give him one.
He took hold of the slick green cock bouncing against his belly and pumped it in rhythm with Spock’s movements. Spock’s head fell heavy on Jim’s shoulder, teeth lightly indenting the edge of his neck. At this angle Jim could see down his long, narrow back, to his pert flexing ass.
It was too good. His balls tightened. “I’m coming,” he gasped, and then Spock was coming too, riding the high that passed over the bond, vibrating between them like two violin strings stroked by the same bow.
Jim was fairly certain he had never come for so long in his life. But he was still finished long before Spock was, and he shifted his hips downward to pull out. No chance of Spock helping with that.
Robbed of the cock he was riding, Spock keened mournfully, and Jim quickly replaced it with his fingers. One hand in the ass, one stroking the cock, and Spock’s hand was buried again in his sheath. Spock thrust into his hand, spattering out another few drops, and another, and another.
At last he slowed, steadily growing limp by degrees in Jim’s arms.
Limp, and heavy. Jim held him tightly so they wouldn’t both topple over. At last Spock recovered enough to slide off his lap and flop heavily on the bed.
“That was amazing,” said Jim, joining him. He was exhausted, and he definitely wasn’t going to be getting it up again tonight, but it was worth it. To see Spock destroyed like this, needy and moaning, was a rare gift he wasn’t going to forget.
“I believe,” said Spock slowly, “that was the peak. The next climaxes should be more gentle and less uncontrolled. If the literature I have studied is to be trusted.”
“Well, how do you feel?” It seemed incredible that Spock could come again after that. But his green cock was still standing upright, surrounded by splatters of faintly iridescent cum on his belly, hips, and thighs.
There was plenty of it on Jim, too. He ran his fingers through the mess on his belly and brought them to his mouth. Sweet and faintly umami.
Spock was staring at him with his eyes blown black. “I desire more, of course,” he said. “But I feel more in control than I did.”
“Enough that you can be still and let me suck you?”
His eyes widened. “I believe so.”
Jim smiled. This, he could do, exhausted as he was. He lay down between Spock’s legs and started licking.
Spock lay very still, letting Jim’s tongue slide up the edges of his sheath. This was a human behavior, he realized now, as it required a certain amount of control, and for Vulcans control and sex were antonyms. He had thought perhaps the matter had been overstated, that his control was superior, that his extensive experience would stand him in good stead.
But that had been quite false. Each time as he approached his peak, his mind blanked and was capable of nothing other than chasing it. He hoped that actual pain or fear on Jim’s part would break through across their bond, but he did not intend to test it and find out.
Now, though, his desire felt much more gentle, like the swell of a wave rather than the uncontrollable shaking of an earthquake. He could make himself be still, even while Jim’s smooth tongue caressed the green membranes of his slit edges, while Jim’s fingers—oh Surak —moved inside him again.
Jim mouthed at the head of his lok, taking it in up to the first ridge, and fluttered his tongue right beneath the slit at the top. Spock whimpered, but did not move. He wanted to seize Jim, tumble him on his back, and penetrate him in a single stroke. But only stillness would allow this sensation to continue.
Jim hummed approvingly and moved his mouth as far as the second ridge. His eyes gazed up Spock’s body, holding eye contact as he slid his tongue around the ridge. Spock’s hands flexed helplessly. He ventured to rest one gently on Jim’s head, gently stroking his hair. He could control, he was relieved to find. Not to the point of speech, but to the point that he could keep from thrusting into Jim’s mouth. Jim had excellent oral sex manners, staying quite still unless he was invited to move, and then only moving gently. Spock could return the consideration, finally.
Jim sank deeper onto his lok, taking it all in except the base which he held in his fist. The only disadvantage of this act was that it was suddenly quiet. Usually there were Jim’s groans, whimpers, curses, affectionate babbling. But he could hear the flow of Jim’s mind was doing the same, broadcasting pride in him for keeping so still, admiration of him, enjoyment of his flavor, the familiar animal pleasure of having something in his mouth.
The pleasure slowly mounted until he was beginning to come into Jim’s mouth. Jim swallowed around the first three jets—a bewitching sensation—before moving back so Spock could see his ejaculate splattering into Jim’s open mouth, across his face, into his hair. Both strong hands worked on him now, and he released his iron self-control to let himself thrust eagerly into them, climbing toward the peak and then slowly, slowly, letting himself come back down the other side. The last spurts were mere dribbles, which Jim licked away.
Jim moved up the bed only enough to flop bonelessly on top of him, cheek on his belly near his heart. “You did so well for me.”
Spock tried to wipe some of the ejaculate off Jim’s face with his hand, but there was too much of it, and he only ended up smearing it. It was strangely satisfying. He ruffled Jim’s hair instead, running his hand up the short hairs at the back, then drawing his fingers through the longer strands that swooped to one side. “I believe you are the one who did well,” said Spock. “I apologize that it has been such a grueling process.”
Jim huffed a laugh, tickling the hairs on Spock’s belly. “The way I see it, I more than owe you by now.” And then, more seriously, “It’s a treat for me, Spock, you feel that, don’t you?”
Spock trailed his hand over Jim’s psi points. “I do.”
His lok was only half-hard at the moment, but it had not retracted and likely would not until he climaxed again. But Jim seemed so tired, and though Spock wanted more, he did not need it to the degree he had before. Perhaps if he resisted the urge, it might eventually go away.
“I can hear you worrying,” said Jim. “Did I say I wanted to stop?”
Spock rubbed the back of Jim’s neck. “But you are tired.”
“You do the work then,” said Jim. He moved off Spock and flopped back down on the bed, face down. He spread his legs a little and wiggled his buttocks enticingly.
The sight was mesmerizing. Spock came up on his elbow and cupped one buttock, soft but muscular beneath. His lok jerked fully to attention. “You are sure.”
“Get inside me,” said Jim, muffled a little by the pillow. “Unless you don’t want to.”
Spock wanted to. He wanted it very much. Just as he had imagined from the beginning, penetrating Jim with his own body this time, feeling the sensations doubled between the two of them. And he would not hurt Jim now, now that it was gentle, an almost human level of desire instead of the strange need that had come over him before.
Gently he rubbed the pads of his fingers between Jim’s buttocks, rubbing gently at his opening. He knew this part well. Knew that Jim needed him to go slowly at first, but that after the second finger he always got eager and wanted it faster, which Spock did not generally allow. Knew the way Jim relaxed his body and opened his mind at the same time.
The hot squeeze of Jim’s body around his fingers was different somehow, arousing him instead of only feeling pleasant. As though every nerve were alight with a sexual energy. His breath came raggedly as he progressed.
“‘m ready,” mumbled Jim, pushing his hips up a little.
Spock thought he seemed ready to fall asleep. But he got between Jim’s legs and slowly pressed his lok inside.
He gasped as he reached the first ridge, unable to get his breath. The heat and the tightness were almost too much, and yet he needed to get further in, get all the way into that hot embrace. Bit by bit, he eased past the second ridge and down to the base.
Jim hummed contentedly. Spock ran his fingers up Jim’s spine, kissed the back of his neck. Jim was so good to him, so generous with his body, and so so beautiful. He began to move, rocking gently into him. As if they had all the time in the world, as if he could not already feel another climax coiling in his lower back. He would draw it out all the same.
“You feel very pleasing,” said Spock. This round he had maintained his power of speech, at least so far, and Jim had always liked it when he spoke. “I did not know it would—feel like this.”
“Yeah?”
“I will keep the sensation mind—in future. When I am penetrating you with the strap.”
Jim moaned and rocked his hips slightly. So he was affected by this, at least a little. That was much better, to be here to serve Jim and not only to satisfy himself. He adjusted his angle, seeking the spot that had always had the greatest effect.
“Nngh,” said Jim. “You just won’t stop, will you?”
Spock froze. “Do you wish me to?”
Jim huffed. “I mean, you won’t stop making this about me.”
“It is always about you.” Spock aimed a sharp thrust just right to make his point.
“I just don’t think I’ll be able to come again.”
Spock bent to kiss between his shoulder blades. “You do not have to. If you enjoy it I will continue.”
“Mmm,” said Jim, stretching out a little more and nuzzling into the pillow. “I do.”
The soft buzz of pleasure and arousal in his mind confirmed it. He was half-hard against the bed, lazily letting himself be nudged back and forth with Spock’s thrusts.
Spock kept a slow, regular rhythm, feeling his pleasure build with every stroke. He was inside Jim. He was pleasing Jim with his own body. He was claiming him, even.
He scraped his teeth lightly against Jim's shoulder, aflame with the idea of possession. He would mark Jim from the inside.
His climax began and slowly grew fiercer. He followed its urging, thrusting harder, propelling his seed deeper. His vision was clouded with green. He heard himself moan, and echoing him was Jim's cry.
Jim was rolled tightly in a swirl of their mingled pleasure; not a physical climax but mentally indistinguishable from one. Spock jerked his hips spasmodically into him, slowing fractionally each time, riding it out. Even when his climax had ended, he kept rocking gently. He nosed between Jim’s shoulder blades, whispering k’diwa and ashau n’du, soft sentimental things that matched his feelings at the moment. A warm contentment was stealing over him.
His lok finally softened and he withdrew it from Jim’s body. Jim rolled half-over. Spock was filled with indescribable tenderness. He lay down facing Jim, as close as he could, tangling their legs together. His body felt heavy and his mind was entirely quiet. An agreeable feeling.
“So what do you think?” asked Jim, his voice slow and drowsy.
“I am not thinking anything,” said Spock truthfully.
“Feel good?”
“Yes.” They drifted awhile in silence. At last Spock added, “I enjoyed it.”
“Not scary after all?”
“I would not go that far.” Spock considered. “It would have been a frightening and humiliating experience, except that it was with you. I am…quite safe with you, in all respects.”
“I suppose somebody could bottle up the pheromones. Have sex all the time if they wanted.”
Spock raised an eyebrow without opening his eyes. “I am sure they could. But as you have seen, the Vulcan sexual response is somewhat…intense. One would not wish to do this every night.”
“Ehh,” said Jim doubtfully, but Spock could feel even he did not truly disagree. “I’d be down for it whenever you wanted to,” he said at last.
“Barring more instances like this one, I expect that to be in several years yet. I do not wish to be distracted by desire all the time, and our usual sexual practice is satisfying for me. I prefer to wait for pon farr to occur naturally.”
“So long as you’re not afraid of it.”
Spock considered. He thought of his frantic, compulsive masturbation during pon farr, his still more compulsive urge to fight. How different this had been. He had not been in control, but Jim had. Jim had had him well in hand.
“No,” he said. “I am not afraid of it at all.”