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“Kneel.” Spock said, seriously.
Eyeing his first commander, Jim was shocked to find that everything about him right now was appealing to the eye. Their shifts had long since ended, so Spock had stripped off his blue, and was now dressed entirely in standard issue black sleepwear. It hugged him like a glove, and made the captain’s mouth water in appreciation. He was sitting in a swivel chair, backed by a pane of windows revealing the endless expanse of space. The captain guessed that the tablet in his hand was loaded with endless paperwork, reports to file, things to micromanage. Yet, on the table to his side was a book, and honest to God hardcover book, laid on top of an old chess board, which wasn’t set up at the time.
The command had taken him off guard, almost as much as his immediate desire to obey. It called to question the vague and unsettling manner to which Spock had invited him to his quarters that evening in the first place.
“Your stress levels have been uncharacteristically high of late, Captain.” Spock had mentioned to him, offhandedly, one day in the mess hall. At Jim’s arched eyebrow, his first in command had explained. “Dr. McCoy occasionally confides these things in me. He seems to believe that you have no intention of remedying this disorder.” Now the captain snorted. “I’m going to go get the bad guy. Then I won’t be stressed anymore.” Jim provided, over a mouthful of what he thought should’ve been French fries, but weren’t. “And what ever happened to doctor/patient confidentiality, anyway?” Spock had the grace to look mildly uncomfortable. “Your wellbeing is of import to more than just you, Sir. It affects your decision making which, in turn, affects the lives of every being on this ship. I believe that the doctor has taken that into consideration, and confides in me as a way to circumvent any extraordinarily rash decision making that may occur as a result of your higher than normal stress levels.” The younger man couldn’t help but grin. “Just the extraordinary rash decision making?” Spock gifted him with a level look, which the captain had long since realized was the Vulcan equivalent of a glare. “Attempts to do any more than that would be exhausting, Captain.”
Nodding, Jim continued to eat, and Spock continued to look at him, waiting. With an eye roll and a sigh, he spoke, “Yeah, sure, I’m stressed. Tough job, y’know? Irritating employees. And then there’s the whole saving the galaxy thing that keeps happening. I’ll get a massage or something if it’ll make you all feel better.” Spock tilted his head, slightly. “In this particular regard, I think I have a solution to your problem. I request your presence in my quarters this evening.”
Jim barked a laugh. “Spock, are you trying to come on to me? If so, I’m flattered, but—“ Spock had fixed that glare at him again. “Vulcans are not masters of subtlety, Captain. If sexual intercourse was my suggested solution, I imagine you’d know.” He rose from the table where they’d been eating, holding his tray stiffly between with both hands. “21:00 hours should be fine. I will expect you.” And he strode off. Jim shrugged. He had been stressed, and it was just Spock. What’s the worst that could happen?
And that’s how he’d found himself standing here, sputtering out, “Excuse me?”
"Kneel." Spock's voice was even, as always, when he directed the order at his captain. Jim fidgeted. He wanted to, for reasons he couldn’t understand, but he couldn't just do…that without a fight. It meant things. Curiously, the realization that Spock might know what it meant had his cock twitching and growing in his jeans. Which should’ve been weird, but it wasn’t weirder than anything else about he and his first officer’s interaction. So he shrugged nonchalantly. "Make me."
An emotion coursed through Spock, like a low frequency humming. It was one of three that only his captain could pull out of him. Yet, Jim was not the only one adept at playing his role, so Spock kept himself tightly contained as he responded.
"You are bound. Bound by the constructs of your human mind. These binds pull at you. They tear at you. They oppress you. They hurt, Captain. Your eyes scream of it." He explained, rising from his seat to walk towards the captain, circling. "I will bind you. My binds will be the only ones that matter. Under this binding, you will be free from all others." He paused, "You want this, yes?"
"Yes." Jim strangled out. God, yes. Apparently Spock knew what it meant.
"Then you will kneel. And you will ask no more questions about it. But not there." Spock walked back to his chair, settling. “Here.” He gestured to a space at his feet.
Jim walked over to it quietly, and suppressed a shudder as he sunk to the floor.
He knelt there, for a while, confused as to what he was supposed to do, until Spock’s hand carded through his hair in a motion that could only be described as tender. What the fuck, he thought to himself.
“Here,” Spock began, “you are not the Captain, and I am not your first officer. In this room, when you are in this position, the saving of the galaxy is not your concern. The chair is not your concern. Your only concern is me.” Spock’s voice had taken on a detached, melodic quality. A glance showed Kirk that he was reading something on the tablet as he spoke. “You will do what I tell you. Whatever I tell you. And you will rest easily in the fact that whatever you do, you did it because I told you to. The fault will not be yours. If it helps, you can recall our last physical confrontation, and imagine that I gave you no choice in the matter.” Jim’s shoulders shook with the force of his derisive snort. “Still.” Spock commanded in a low voice, fingers tightening in his captain’s hair. And Kirk was still. “Ah,” Spock sighed, fingers loosening again, “well done.”
There was pride in his voice. It was evident, not buried under seventeen layers of stoic Vulcan behavior, and it made Jim giddy. He smiled hugely. Spock continued speaking. “Now allow your body to relax. You are here. I am capable of defending us should anything go wrong, or handling any Star Fleet issues that should arise.” Jim tensed. “If it assures you further, I can guarantee to handle those issues in the same manner that you would.” Jim nodded shortly, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders already.
This was strange. He was kneeling at Spock’s feet, as the Vulcan played in his hair and pored over paperwork. Yet, it didn’t feel strange. It felt natural, he was more relaxed than he’d been in ages, and so he sat. His body relaxed muscle by muscle until he realized he was bone tired. Sleep hadn’t necessarily been his friend these last couple of weeks. He found his head lolling in the direction of Spock’s knee. The commander just helped to guide his head, tablet still in hand, until it was resting comfortably. “Rest your eyes for a moment or two, Captain,” he said softly. “I would not recommend sleeping in that position normally, but as I am not quite done here, I require your presence a bit longer.”
Jim hummed contentedly, then nodded, allowing his eyes to flutter closed.
“The galaxy does not reward you adequately, for all the things you do, does it?” Spock’s voice had taken on a quizzical, far away quality, but Jim didn’t analyze too much, as he was certain he was already more than half asleep. He shook his head slightly. “I will. You will be rewarded for doing well here.” A shivery feeling took up residence in the captain’s gut. His cock, which had been calm, regained riotous interest in the conversation. He shuddered, realizing that if Spock were to look, he’d see Jim’s erection straining against his fly.
He found comfort in the fact that the shame came first, the arousal a very close second, of feelings that rushed through him like fire. He knew he was flush, knew he was shaking, but he managed to control his breathing. Two counts in, two counts out, over and over until he was relaxing again, if slowly.
“To the bed, Captain. Remove all clothing down to your drawers.” Jim sputtered, flushing all over again, careful breathing forgotten. “Thought this wasn’t about sex.”
Spock rose, crossing to the bed, and sitting again. “As this is your first time here, I will forgive your oversight. You do recall the stipulations of this arrangement, do you not?” Kirk nodded, not thinking he’d ever forget Spock telling him that in this room he’d do as he was told. He stood on shaky legs, staggered by his desire to crawl to Spock. His shirt slid up his stomach, over his arms and head, Kirk’s whole body seeming hyper sensitive. He tossed it somewhere behind him. Spock tsked. “Fold it.”
Jim froze. Spock’s eyes watched him, noncommittally, which was always dangerous. If Spock looked like he didn’t care what you did, it meant he really cared what you did. Part of his whole Vulcan complex. So, he turned around, folded the shirt, and laid it gently on the chair Spock had just vacated. Doing the same with his pants, he walked back to the bed in just his boxer briefs, cock begging to be released from its confinement, face flaming red.
Spock stood as soon as Jim sat. “Very good,” he murmured. “Lay there,” he gestured to a pillow. Kirk rested his head on the pillow, and for a moment his exhaustion returned to him. Then Spock stroked a finger down his arm.
The older man sat again, at Jim’s feet, then shifted so that he was situated between Jim’s legs, fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear. “Your blush is attractive. That is unexpected. Sex was not supposed to be a part of tonight’s activities. But you want it, correct? “ Jim nodded dumbly, hips bucking slightly, back arching. “You have done well tonight, Captain. I have told you that I would reward you for your good work.”
Pushing the undergarment down and out of the way, Spock knelt over his captain, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. A lusty moan fell from Kirk’s lips. Spock repeated the motion, then took the head into his mouth and sucked hard. Jim’s hands fisted into the first officer’s hair, pushing to get more of his dick down Spock’s throat. The older man yielded, allowing Jim full access to his mouth.
The captain had been rising an almost constant wave of arousal since he’d arrived, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. He felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Spock’s throat, and he started babbling almost incoherently. “Shit, Spock you shouldn’t be able to fucking do that.” He thrust into the first officer’s mouth again and again, losing a little bit more control every time. Kirk knew he was damn near fucking Spock’s mouth, that he should be gentler, but he couldn’t stop. He was so close, too close. “Spock, shit, I’m gonna…oh God. Ohhhhhhh God.” He tried to pull Spock off, but the older man only grabbed his hips and sucked down harder. Jim exploded, flashes of light ricocheting behind his eyes. His only conscious thought was that Spock was swallowing it. Spock was swallowing him down.
The knowledge rocketed his orgasm to the next level, until he was aching with it, bordering just on the edge of too much. And then everything went black.
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Stripping his own clothes away, he laid down next to Kirk (Jim), not too close, as not to smother him with his heat.
He imagined that in the morning, the captain would be significantly less stressed.
Mission accomplished.