[FIC]: Subspace, Pike/Spock, NC-17
Title: Subspace
Authors: salvaged_pride and dancing_mercury
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Characters/Pairings: Pike/Spock, very lightly implied pre-Kirk/Spock
POV: Spock
Rating: NC-17
Words: 6.460
Inspired by: This prompt on st_xi_kink:
I would like established Spock/Pike, with Spock on the Enterprise and Pike is on Earth doing Admiral-ly things.
They're maintaining a long-distance relationship. Gimme some sexy communications, masturbatory sessions (and combine the two? Telling each other what to do while one watches?) while thinking of each other. Bottom!Spock is preferred.
I would like it if they get to see each other (and have sexytimes) at the end, but it's not required.
I would prefer Spock POV, but Pike is alright also.
Bonus points for Spock fucking himself with a toy while Pike watches on a viewer. It's like future phone sex!
A/N: So, OP, we covered most of your prompt, implied the rest, and added some hand!porn. Hope you like it! :) We also included a reference, one we actually used while writing this, and I believe credit goes to akscully for the wonderful gif.
Spock had been looking forward to the communication ever since the beginning of breakfast, admittedly not too long ago. Kirk had waltzed into the officer’s mess, looking sleepy and mildly irate, stuffed a bagel into his mouth and proceeded to complain about how he wanted to sleep, for once, instead of “reporting to Starfleet Command every time somebody sneezed wrong in Engineering.” Spock had eaten the rest of the peach slices in his bowl as he patiently listened to his captain complaining about being just that, a captain, before he offered his advice in his infinite wisdom.
“Perhaps, Captain,” He took the formal title, because while alpha shift didn’t necessarily start for another two hours, they were discussing official business. “I may assist you in your report to the Admiral.” Together, they might both be able to express a desire for Starfleet Command to take into account local star ship time, and not just Pacific on Earth.
Kirk tilted his head towards Spock, the bagel hanging from his mouth for a moment before he tore a chunk out. "S'good idea." He muttered through a mouthful. "Maybe they'll listen to one of us." His swallow was audible, eyes bleary as he looked over to the chronometer. "Could stand to at least be on time."
"Perhaps, Kirk, you could stand to be seen without looking like a five year old at breakfast." Came the familiar smooth tones from the vidscreen Kirk was not paying attention too. It was not the first time either of them had been greeted like this. The woman that held the communication officer's chair during gamma shift was easily swayed into patching through secure feeds to wherever Starfleet Command requested. Spock had already asked Nyota to occupy the console when they expected a communication, but she had smiled, waved her hand, and said something about how unreasonable it was to wake up at four-thirty just for that.
Thus, here he was, cup of tea in one hand and an empty cereal bowl in front of him, staring at Christopher Pike. He waited until he finished his sip of the spice tea and set the cup down before greeting him. "Admiral." Christopher.
"Spock. Kirk." Christopher glanced between the pair, eyes lingering briefly on Spock, and finally suggested, "Maybe next time someone should include a reminder of ship time when replying back so that I don't schedule these calls before your breakfast is digested." The Admiral sounded completely amused as he focused on Kirk.
"...Not a bad thought." Kirk coughed a little, sounding neatly embarrassed without actually showing it.
Spock made a mental note to add one more piece of paperwork to his list of Things to Proofread from Kirk Before Forwarding to Starfleet Command, right alongside mission reports and formal complaints. "Since we are present and currently unoccupied, I suggest we commence with the report." He looked to Kirk as he said this, leaning back slightly in his chair.
Kirk nodded his agreement, and grabbing the padd he had brought in tucked up under his arm, started in on the report that Spock had so thoughtfully proofread the previous evening. Christopher was listening in silence as Kirk spoke, elbows on the desk where the vidscreen sat, fingers lacing in front of him. Dark gray eyes peered over top of his joined hands, concentrating as the young captain gestured and mixed respect with sarcasm throughout his speaking.
While the tone Kirk used couldn't be faulted this early in the morning, Spock also listened as he read off the report. Every so often he would hear a minor note of confusion as Kirk read over a word or a sentence that hadn't been there when he last saw it (another consequence of Spock's meticulous shadow-editor skills). He sipped his spice tea leisurely, first watching the padd, and his too-sleepy captain, and then...gradually shifting his gaze to Christopher.
Who was still in the same position - elbows on the desk, hands laced in front of him - except now he was resting his mouth against his hands, his right index finger to be exact. With both Spock and Kirk in easy view of the screen, it was impossible to tell who he was exactly focused on.
Maybe it was an appropriate position to look properly thoughtful, maybe it was a habit, but Christopher had to know what he was doing, lips so close to those strong, skilled hands. He must have known, too, that Spock would see it in that light; the position held, and Spock ran out of spice tea to properly distract himself. After setting the cup down, he glanced across the room towards the replicators. Kirk was beginning to arrive at the diplomatic repercussions of their last mission; he couldn't leave now. Instead, he returned his focus to the meeting. With the side of his hand resting on the table beside the cup, he moved the pad of his thumb across the side of his index finger, before tucking it neatly under the curve of his fingers in a very loose fist.
Those eyes flickered briefly to Kirk, studying him, before focusing on Spock again. Christopher's head pulled back slightly, just enough for his right index finger to slowly rub the left index knuckle. It could have easily been seen as rubbing at an itch, except that his eyes were unblinking, unmoving from Spock's visage, along with the crafty use of a slight eyebrow raise.
Spock remained composed, his expression calm, despite the silent reply that sent a jolt through his mind. He could feel his heart beat start to pick up in his distraction, climbing towards two-hundred-eighty beats per minute, before he caught it and forced it to slow. His fingers slowly unfolded halfway to make an L-shape with the rest of his hand, and his thumbnail scraped outwards along the inside of his little finger. Certainly Christopher did not look amused as he watched Spock's completely innocent gesture. It was equally innocent for Christopher to change his hands positions as Kirk continued, leaning his chin on his left palm, right hand ever so naturally sliding all four fingertips across the left palm. The right hand curled very slightly around the wrist and eventually came to settle on the desk, tapping slowly, leaving Christopher in the perfect picture of nonchalance.
Without a doubt, Christopher was teasing him, and Spock was beginning to doubt the exact subtlety of his movements now. He could almost feel cool, callused fingertips brush his palm, then tracing down his arm, and now each steady tap against the desk felt like a tap against his thigh. Leaning forward in his chair, Spock’s other hand settled near its partner, and he slowly, casually, scraped four nails across the back of his left hand, from wrist to first knuckle. Outside of this, he could hear Kirk talking about recommendations for further contact with the civilization they encountered, though future visitors should avoid that one red-orange drink that made the eyes burn and/or flirting with the high king's daughter(s).
As Christopher replied, he gestured lightly with the hand that had been cupping his chin, the fingers on the desk stopping their tapping. When he was finished speaking, he turned the gesturing hand back over so that he could rest his chin, and therefore his lips, against his second set of knuckles. Kirk snickered in response to Christopher's reply, sounding almost properly sheepish about his antics with the high king's daughters but obviously not actually ashamed of it. As they moved on to the final conclusions, including how they had managed to complete the entire assignment without losing any security personnel, Spock moved the tip of the thumbnail of his inside hand along the thumb of the hand cupping on the outside. To seal the report, he laced his fingers together, each long finger brushing against its neighbours.
"Impressive for your first contact with a new civilization," Christopher said with a tiny smirk on his lips. "Someone owes me two hundred credits when I receive your report."
"...You guys were betting on us!?" Kirk actually looked and sounded surprised.
"A gentleman's bet," Christopher said smoothly, sounding amused.
"...I have several choice words for that, sir, that I am respectfully thinking really hard at you," Kirk informed.
"To do so would be illogical, Captain, as neither of you have any telepathic capabilities, and certainly none that could communicate through subspace transmissions." Even as he said this, Spock knew it was a half-truth. Christopher may not have any telepathy, but their communication came clear as words whispered in Spock's mind.
To that, Kirk just sighed, "I'm not even going to bother explaining. Seriously." He glanced between vidscreen and Spock, then looked back to Christopher, "Anything else, sir?"
"That's all, Kirk."
"Good, I think I'm needed on the bridge." Kirk stood up, but before he left, leaned in and whispered against Spock's ear, "I don't want to know why you and Pike decided that making lewd Vulcan hand porn in front of me was a good idea, but couldn't it have waited until I was done giving the report and we weren't being recorded?" He didn't even give Spock a chance to be Vulcanly embarrassed before leaving the room.
Spock sat absolutely still, his eyes on the table and his hands still folded, until he heard the doors hiss open and shut with Kirk's exit. Then he glanced up at the vidscreen. He wasn't going to say anything off the record until he knew that it wasn't being recorded (at least for Starfleet Command; personal recordings had their own uses). Christopher's brows were raised, and he relaxed the sudden tension with a rumble of his voice, "Computer, pause recording."
After allowing himself to breathe again, a quiet inhale, Spock turned in his seat to better face the vidscreen directly, instead of being half-turned towards where Kirk had been sitting. "You initiated it," He accused, but in his still-calm tone, trying to remain diplomatic.
"Initiated what, Commander?" Christopher asked, sounding perfectly innocent somehow, as if he had absolutely no idea what Spock was talking about.
"I do not appreciate your selective ignorance, Admiral." He could play the title-game, too. His hands slide out from their interlock, and he leaned back in his seat, folding his arms loosely over his chest. Once, he had heard the posture described as huffy (by the same man sitting in front of him, in fact), though he vehemently denied it as such.
Speak of the devil, "Don't start huffing at me, Spock." Christopher just looked impossibly amused, a smirk on his lips as he leaned back as well. "Tell me, did you receive the package waiting for you at the Enterprise's last docking?"
A single nod. "Yes, I did." It had been quite a surprise for Spock, enough to arch one eyebrow, to see something specified for personal delivery on the cargo list. The package in question sat neatly in a corner of his quarters, between the desk and the room divider, hidden and obvious from the door to the parlour at the same time. "I have yet to open it." As the accompanying note had instructed.
"Go get it. I can wait." Christopher leaned back in his chair, looking devilishly thoughtful.
Spock may have forgotten to breathe again, and he sat a little straighter in his chair. A mental check told him it was 0537, still early enough for the officer's mess to be empty, yet..."You wish that I bring it here?" An edge of disbelief.
"I'm waiting, Spock." Was all the reply that came, but the tone had changed to one of command. Spock searched the man's face on the vidscreen, and once settled that the order was not meant in jest, he rose from his seat. Walking out of the officer's mess and into the hallways, he was thankful that it was still that limbo part of the morning: the remnants of gamma shift were dozing off, and those of alpha were likely still sleeping. He met no one as he walked to his quarters, and likewise on the return trip.
"Lock the doors." Came the immediate command as soon as Spock was in the room. "Open the package."
After saying his passcode to the computer to lock the doors, a high enough clearance assuming that Kirk didn't come looking for another bagel, Spock regarded the box in front of him on the table. It was a slender package, only about six inches wide and ten long, with a simple hard case, locked securely. Plain, boring, unobtrusive, labeled with the Enterprise's information and Spock's name. He moved his fingers along the edges, trying to predict what could be inside it, until he found the pad waiting for his thumbprint. He pressed his thumb against the cool film and watched a beam of light scan it. A green light appeared in the corner of the top of the case, and he heard a faint click from inside it. He swung the lid up with both of his thumbs, and peered inside.
Inside were two slender objects set on what looked like a folded piece of very thick leather. The first was a plain, flesh colored vibrator that seemed to be a perfect match for a very familiar human cock. The second was a particularly thick black plug. The leather, when investigated, turned out to actually be a piece of fur of incredibly soft but strong texture.
Out of the corner of his eye, Spock could see Christopher leaning forward, obviously studying him and his reactions. A light jade flush rose to his cheeks in recognition of both of these objects (the replica especially) and his eyes widened slightly. Tentatively reaching his hand in, he brushed his fingertips across each one, and then glanced back up to the vidscreen. “…you have plans for these?” That was all the thank-you Christopher would get, for now.
"What kind of Admiral would I be if I didn't?" Christopher asked in return, laughter in his voice. "The fur. Pull it out. Put the box and toys aside, for now." He leaned back a little, eyes glued to what Spock was doing. "...feel the texture of it."
Spock carefully slid out the piece of fur from the bottom of the box, noting without surprise the bottle of lubricant that had been hidden beneath the fur, and then pushed the box to the side at arms length. Holding the fur his left hand. Parting his lips to ask why he had bothered sending this along as well, he drew the fingers of his right hand across it--and his breath caught in his throat. "This--" He began, after a few moments of stillness. His fingers resumed running through the fur. "--is remarkably soft."
"I thought it would be a simple, non-assuming item to be kept in your quarters that you could enjoy," Christopher rumbled quietly as he watched, fingers tapping slowly on the desk and light years between them. "The other two... well, I'm sure there are places to hide them."
"Certainly," He agreed, though most of his attention was on the fur, now rubbing his thumb through and against it. It felt...pleasant, in any particular direction, and upon reaching that conclusion, just passed his entire palm over the fur. Very pleasant.
Christopher's voice was deeper when he spoke again. "I want you to take your other hand, and gently, lightly, draw the length of your hand over your lips and take your fingers in your mouth... while you keep stroking that fur."
The doors were locked, Spock told himself; he wasn’t going to get caught doing inappropriate things during a vidscreen communication. This, too, was Christopher: how often did he have the chance to talk to him, alone, never mind the semi-privacy? It would be logical to take advantage of this opportunity.
He placed the fur on the table from his left hand, never breaking contact between the piece and his right. There, his right hand continued to stroke the fur, fingers splayed, tips moving in circles, sometimes his whole hand moving across it in one smooth, sensual motion. His left hand, now free, touched his lips right at the wrist. The touch continued slowly over his palm and right up to the tip of his index finger, his own hot breath warming the skin. There, at the edge of his hand, Spock slid his index and middle fingers into his mouth, relishing how live and welcome heat replaced the chill of the room on his skin.
"Good." The rich, warm voice was pure encouragement. "No one's here, Spock, just you and I... I can't hear every little catch of your breath through this, so you'll have to be louder for me." Christopher was sitting closer to the vidscreen, consciously or unconsciously rubbing his thumb against the pads of his index and middle fingers as if he was imagining Spock's mouth there.
The agreeing sound he made in the back of his throat could be heard easily, he was sure. As he watched the vidscreen, eyes half-lidded, he focused on Christopher's hands, and wished he could be sucking those fingers instead. For a moment, he had to close his eyes; the fur rubbed the center of his palm and his tongue moved across the bottom of his fingers. Two distracting sensations. "Yes." Whispered so quietly from Christopher, catching that moment. "Are you hard? I am, just watching you. Been too long since you've been back to Earth." There was a quirk in his voice, "What will we do when you're out there for your five year... more of this? Me ordering you... do you like that?"
Spock drew his fingers back as he opened his eyes again; they glistened with saliva, and the chill hit harder because of it. His other hand gripped hard at the fur for a moment “Yes.” To all of his questions: his trousers were tight, more so at the idea of arousing Christopher, and then even more that they would do this more, that he would get to hear that voice, ever the Captain, ordering him to do obscene things to himself. It would never be the same as having that strong body against his, strong hands in his, but the mind could be easily fooled. Spock bit his fingertips lightly, the same that had received the previous attention, with his front teeth, sharp but not too sharp.
"Hand off the fur." Christopher commanded lowly, "Trousers, underwear, remove them." His eyes were burning a hole through that vidscreen, staring at Spock.
Reluctantly, Spock drew his hand off the fur, a residual tingle still warm on his palm. The next order he took more reluctantly. The doors were still locked, and he almost thought to fight against it, a continuous inner struggle between decency and those eyes, his lover, that continued as he stood from his seat. He undid the clasp and the zipper, hooked his thumbs over the waistband of his trousers and standard issue briefs, and slowly pulled the garments down, with no ungraceful jerk of the fabric. He toed off his boots so he could pull his trousers off completely, and then set them aside on the nearest neighbouring chair.
There was a very quiet 'hmmm' from Christopher, studying the screen intently and the figure taking up a good deal of it. "Turn the vidscreen." As soon as it was turned, a smirk touched Christopher's figure. "No other way for you to do this then to sit on the table, otherwise I won't be able to see." There was a definite tone of mischievous delight in his words.
Spock hesitated, but this one more analytical than judgmental. He turned to sit back on the table at first, sitting with his legs dangling off the edge at the knee. Then his long arms stretched back, and one foot came to prop up on the edge of the table so he could gracefully lift his body back into the centre of the table, the centre of the frame, facing Christopher. His legs folded neatly to the side, and after a quick calculation from the camera and relative height compared to the chair, he was sure that his entire body was on-screen, half-nude and flushed with arousal and excitement. And he was right, as Christopher's eyes slowly scanned down the length of Spock's body, the smirk turning into a lip-parted look of appreciation. "Beautiful." He rumbled quietly.
And in return, Spock got a matching sort of view. Not fully, considering location, but the image of Christopher leaning back in the large faux leather chair, undoing the catch on his trousers with a flick of his thumb and index finger, undoing the zip. It seemed that he had been planning all of this for some time as unlike normal, he had no underwear on. To this sight, Spock tilted his head slightly in inquiry, with an eyebrow arched in teasing fascination. "Have you been anticipating this, Christopher?" He asked, almost mocking him. His right hand curled over the back of his left, maybe nervous energy, maybe just wanting to feel the touch like he would if he was with him.
"For a while," Christopher admitted, his face softening for just a moment. "How could I not?" He let that hang for only a moment before gesturing with his fingertips. "We don't have a lot of time, but I plan to make the most of it. The toys there?" A gesture towards the box just barely seen on screen most likely. "You should find one very familiar." He sounded proud of that.
"Yes, it is quite an accurate replica." Spock reached over to the box, to lift out the vibrator in one hand. Once he held it in front of him, his fingertips of his other hand ghosted over its length again.
"Should be damn near perfect, minus being attached to me." Christopher smirked with his own joke. "Though it has two advantages over me right now."
"Obviously, one of which is that it is with me." Spock's index fingertip paused right over the head of the vibrator, and he glanced up to the vidscreen. "And the other?"
"The other you'll get to find out in a moment." Came the pleased tones, and he shifted in his seat. "Take out the lube too. I want to watch you as you open yourself up for me." Christopher watched Spock closely, head tilting ever so slightly.
Spock reached over to the box again, pulling out the bottle of lube that had revealed itself earlier, and then shifted position so his legs were up and spread in Christopher's direction. After popping the cap, he liberally applied the lubricant to three of his fingers, noting the very faint scent (that reminded him of a cozy-warm evening and chocolate pudding). Setting the small bottle aside, he leaned back on one hand, reached a hand down, and pressed a finger to his entrance. The sensation of the cold wetness crawled up his spine, threatening a shiver if he did not otherwise keep control of himself.
He worked that finger in slowly, taking slow breaths to keep himself relaxed, eyes now closed and brows narrowed slightly in concentration. Despite blindness, he could still feel Christopher's burning gaze on him, watching him slide that finger in to the first knuckle. The previous coolness of the lubricant immediately turned into a deep heat that encased his finger, feeling hotter than his body (though, distantly, he questioned the physics of such a thing). There were heated murmurs of encouragement coming from the vidscreen, low rumbles that normally would be buried against Spock's ear, Christopher's longs fingers opening him, their thoughts sliding together as one through touch.
A low groan escaped his throat as he added the middle finger, stretching himself further. His head tilted back enough to expose his throat. Lips parted to take in a deeper breath as he felt the lubricant warm inside of him again, alongside the pressure as his fingers crooked slightly. These, too, slid inside to the first knuckle. "Always so warm, making me impatient to be inside you," Christopher rumbled to Spock, "I would take that throat, offered to me, leave marks just below the edge of your collar. Something to remind you while you worked."
The words sank into his mind, caressing him like those words would if placed alongside his own thoughts from the touch-link bold and alive between them. After working those two fingers inside of himself, getting acquainted with their feel, the third finger was added. The inhale was louder than it would be in a more intimate setting, deeper with a hint of voice so it could be heard. It was followed by a quiet breathy Yesss... from the screen. Spock swallowed, drew another breath, and continued pressing in, opening himself for Christopher.
"You look perfect, just like that." The words continued in lack of hands to be able to touch and tease. "Work them in, nice and deep." The caressing voice was sounding thicker, a touch muddled compared to the clear command it had been shortly before, "I'd reach in, stroke you from the inside until you asked for me, needed me inside you..."
Spock took another shuddering breath as the fingers pressed deeper inside him. Memory told him exactly where Christopher would touch, where his fingertips would press and how they would move, and so he mimicked that motion. The pressure had him arching up with a soft gasp, and he opened his eyes to glance down at the vidscreen. "May I...?" Asking already.
And he got quite a sight, one that made the heat and flush intensify on his cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears. There was Christopher, leaning backwards and spread legged, stroking himself slowly as he watched. "Do it. Take it all at once, hard and fast as I would." A tiny sound left the Admiral's lips, a small sound of pleasure.
After slowly withdrawing his fingers, he reached over for the lube and quickly drizzled some over the vibrator lying on the table beside him. Once grabbing it, he slicked it briefly, bracing it against his thigh as he twisted his hand around it, before positioning it between his legs. Spock almost shivered when he felt the head of it press against him, a single pause before he pushed it in with one smooth movement, right up until he could feel his fingers from where he held it. A cry escaped his throat past parted lips; preparation or not, it had been too long since he had felt this, felt Christopher filling him. There was a matching hitched breath on Christopher's end, hands tightening visibly on his erection and the arm of his chair. "Yes, Spock..." Groaned out in need, as if he had actually sunk into Spock's body. "Close your eyes, I'm right there with you, in you... move." The command was strained with his desire.
Spock's arm relaxed, and he leaned back on his elbow to get the better angle. He closed his eyes and spread his legs a little more, almost as if to accommodate the man between them, already there right in his mind's eye. His fingers pulled out the vibrator half-way and then pushed back in, the cock beginning to fuck him at a steady pace. His hips rocked into the motion, each full stroke. With his eyes closed, Spock would only hear what sounded like a drawer opening and closing, then the faintest high-pitched whine.
The vibrator suddenly turned on, humming just as it slid into Spock's body on its next stroke in. "Christopher..." He moaned, appreciative, inquisitive, and surprised all at the same time. The pure sensation froze him (and his thoughts) as it pushed in near-completely and pressed up against his prostate. There was a quick chuckle from the other end of the call and Christopher practically purred for Spock to continue. The humming died, turning down to something easier to bear for the moment.
Once it settled, Spock began to fuck himself with the vibrator again, the cock thrusting into him, with every forward stroke sending a hot spark up his spine. Christopher was sitting back as he watched closely, stroking himself at a pace to match Spock's. "Harder, Spock." He growled low as he gave a visible thrust of his hips forward.
Now involving more of his arm instead of just the flex of his wrist, the cock plunged harder, faster into him, the force of the thrust sinking the vibrations deep into his body. His breathing quickened, shallowed, and when it angled up precisely, he groaned, tilting his head back as the sound left him. The speed of the vibrator was picking up matched with a brief, high-pitched whine, buzzing inside of Spock's body and against his sensitive fingers.
He had to lie back now, flat against the cold, hard surface of the table, but the thrusts never faltered in their pace. His other hand, now free, reached down to stroke his own cock, pale fingers wrapping around its length. Lying back gave Christopher a perfect view of everything happening between his legs but not of his face, such were the limitations of a vidscreen. "Wrap your fingers around yourself." Christopher's voice had gone to its lowest registers, something it only did when he was truly angry or getting close to orgasm. "You are not allowed to release," Something that had long since curled into their relationship: that sometimes things had to be reduced down to almost medical terms when issuing commands while Spock was lost like this. "Until you've made yourself come from the inside." And sometimes, they didn't.
"You are cruel," Spock half-spoke, half-breathed, his fingers tightening around his own cock, the heat of his hand keeping the cold away. His arm continued to move, pressing the vibrations into his prostate with each thrust, and his fingers tingled, almost burned, while holding the vibrator. He couldn't have let go of it if he wanted to.
"Only because you love it." Christopher's voice had settled into that deep tone that meant he was so close, but most likely was denying himself. "Harder, Spock. I'd have you bent over this desk, taking you so hard you wouldn't be able to catch your breath." Spock knew he would, knew Christopher would be pounding into him until he could do little more but moan and beg, that strong hand wrapped tight around his cock. He moved his wrist and arm with more force, rocking his hips into it, fucking himself until he couldn't think anymore outside of them, what they would, should, be doing.
At last, he rocked down onto it, pushing it deep inside of himself, the vibrations rolling out into his prostate, into his fingers, straight down to his core. He knew this would be when Christopher would press close and come inside of him, groaning into his shoulder. The flash of a thought triggered his own climax, issuing another cry that passed his lips as he arched up. The permission satisfied now, he came hard, the white-hot surge claiming his body for what felt like eternity as he prolonged it by stroking himself to completion.
"Spock. Look." The words were severely strained, and as Spock barely managed to open his eyes in time to see Christopher coming as well, head tilted back into his chair with his eyes finally closing, lips parted. His hand did not stop moving as his uniform was undoubtedly, swiftly stained, his other hand's knuckles snow-white against the chair arm they were gripping. The sight and the satisfaction of making Christopher come--no doubt mirrored on the other end--was almost enough to set him off again. Spock watched him, engrossed, as he pushed himself up with one arm again. The vibrator remained inside of him, still buzzing, threatening to make him hard again in the next four point three minutes (Vulcan stamina being notorious as it was).
Christopher slowly opened his eyes and focused on the screen in front of him, his expression sedated as he looked Spock over. "...Remove it, Spock. Take the other toy, slide into you, then sit up. You'll be leaving the other one in for the rest of the day." A lazy smirk. "It'll keep you good and open for me."
Giving Christopher a half-hearted glare through the vidscreen, Spock reached down to slide the vibrator out. Upon closer inspection, he pressed the small button at the base of it, the one that turned off its remote receiver. Setting this aside, he reached into the box for the butt plug. At present, it didn't look so thick, but he lubed it anyway, just enough, before sliding it in. It was only when Spock sat up fully, back perpendicular with the table, that he could feel it, a constant pressure. The glare was more than half-hearted now. "Is this preparation really necessary?"
"Necessary?" Christopher's smirk was growing. "No, but I want it anyway." Oh, yes, he sounded very smug, and had every right to be. He simply leaned back in his chair, still in control of the situation despite open trousers and uniformed messed in white stains.
It was at this time that Spock noticed the white stains on his own command shirt, standing out against the blue fabric. Rather than be outright embarrassed about it (he figured the flush was still lingering on his face, anyway), he simply took off his shirt and set it aside on the chair. Now almost nude before him, just the black undershirt clinging to his torso, legs folded to the side again, Spock looked at the vidscreen. He found his thoughts again. "When will we meet again?" The longing was carefully hidden out of habit--at least, mostly.
That question caused Christopher to close his eyes, calculating, before saying lightly, "I think the next time I could schedule something is in five days." A small tone of disappointment, but it was better than not seeing each other at all. "Tell me, Spock, is Jim still trying after you or has he started elsewhere?" He smirked a little. "Or should I say in reverse..."
So much for the flush beginning to fade naturally from his cheeks; he had to actively concentrate on stifling it now. "...We have settled into a relationship that is mutually favourable." A diplomatic answer that didn't really answer the question at all, yet in a way, did.
"Mmm." As if Christopher could glean a great deal of information from that. "I see. You'll have to keep me informed." He leisurely slid a hand down and captured a bit of his own release, then sucked it off the tip of his finger. "I'll be waiting for our next call, Spock."
"Likewise, Christopher." Spock agreed, and reached forward to the vidscreen to end the call, before he could get anymore aroused by Christopher's gesture.
Nine days later, the Enterprise was docking into the familiar spread of the massive space station in orbit above Earth. People were rushing through the corridors, preparing to beam down to the planet below, making their way to air locks to get to the station itself, or catching shuttles going clear to the other side of the planet. Eventually, it was down to only a skeleton crew. Spock had been anticipating arriving back at Earth every one of the nine days had passed. There had been well-hidden disappointment when the schedule did not work out from five--it never did, anyway, and so he had not kept very high expectations.
The butt plug had distracted him whenever he wore it because it heightened his sensory awareness, making him more sensitive to touch than before. It did not help things that he had Kirk for a captain. The man would slap him on the back, let his hand rest on Spock's shoulder (and other places)...the increased frequency of these acts, combined with repeated occurrence of that all-knowing grin of Kirk's led Spock to believe his captain knew more about the encounter in the officer's mess than his feigned ignorance.
Yet that wasn't on his mind as he stepped into the transporter room, carrying the small Starfleet suitcase at his side. He had packed enough for a couple of days (if clothes would be needed, though considering his previous times together with Christopher...). Kirk came into the room only a moment later, a bag slung over his shoulder. "Fuck, I can't wait to get back. Quick meeting with the higher-ups and I have a date with the most beautiful lady in the universe outside of the Enterprise." Kirk was absolutely glowing, bouncing on his heels as he stepped up beside Spock. "You'll have to go riding sometime. You even know how to ride a motorcycle?" Kirk was definitely teasing, but it was light and borne out of his excitable nature.
Spock glanced sideways at him. He knew how to pilot the Enterprise if he had to, and this man was asking if he knew how to use a two-wheeled vehicle that was self-balancing and incredibly sub-warp. "I owned one when I lived on Vulcan." Well, it had been his father's, but he got considerable mileage out of it during his last three years at home.
"Seriously?" Kirk's face dissolved into a mask of surprise, then he laughed brightly, "If you get some time to actually do something, you should come out with me. I went riding down and through Death Valley... it's like a race against time." A pause, then, "For a human, at least. You'd probably feel right at home. But its beautiful in the really early morning. I try to get to the edge of it right as midnight hits, and see if I can beat the dawn." He gave a warm smile, recalling good times from the look of it.
The idea did seem rather pleasant, if purely for aesthetic qualities, so Spock filed it away for future (either near or far). "I shall check if I am available for such an excursion." He knew that Christopher had a property in Mojave, though that was still a considerable distance using land-based transport.
"Good." Those blue eyes slid over to Spock in a nearly conspiratorial manner. "...got plans for your shore leave that don't involve science?"
He didn't look away. "Yes." That was all the information he was giving him.
Kirk chuckled and looked to the Ensign at the controls of the transporter. "Energize." Then quickly leaned over and whispered into Spock's ear as golden-white light surrounded them, "So... still got that plug in?" And they vanished from the platform.
Authors: salvaged_pride and dancing_mercury
Fandom: Star Trek (XI)
Characters/Pairings: Pike/Spock, very lightly implied pre-Kirk/Spock
POV: Spock
Rating: NC-17
Words: 6.460
Inspired by: This prompt on st_xi_kink:
I would like established Spock/Pike, with Spock on the Enterprise and Pike is on Earth doing Admiral-ly things.
They're maintaining a long-distance relationship. Gimme some sexy communications, masturbatory sessions (and combine the two? Telling each other what to do while one watches?) while thinking of each other. Bottom!Spock is preferred.
I would like it if they get to see each other (and have sexytimes) at the end, but it's not required.
I would prefer Spock POV, but Pike is alright also.
Bonus points for Spock fucking himself with a toy while Pike watches on a viewer. It's like future phone sex!
A/N: So, OP, we covered most of your prompt, implied the rest, and added some hand!porn. Hope you like it! :) We also included a reference, one we actually used while writing this, and I believe credit goes to akscully for the wonderful gif.
Spock had been looking forward to the communication ever since the beginning of breakfast, admittedly not too long ago. Kirk had waltzed into the officer’s mess, looking sleepy and mildly irate, stuffed a bagel into his mouth and proceeded to complain about how he wanted to sleep, for once, instead of “reporting to Starfleet Command every time somebody sneezed wrong in Engineering.” Spock had eaten the rest of the peach slices in his bowl as he patiently listened to his captain complaining about being just that, a captain, before he offered his advice in his infinite wisdom.
“Perhaps, Captain,” He took the formal title, because while alpha shift didn’t necessarily start for another two hours, they were discussing official business. “I may assist you in your report to the Admiral.” Together, they might both be able to express a desire for Starfleet Command to take into account local star ship time, and not just Pacific on Earth.
Kirk tilted his head towards Spock, the bagel hanging from his mouth for a moment before he tore a chunk out. "S'good idea." He muttered through a mouthful. "Maybe they'll listen to one of us." His swallow was audible, eyes bleary as he looked over to the chronometer. "Could stand to at least be on time."
"Perhaps, Kirk, you could stand to be seen without looking like a five year old at breakfast." Came the familiar smooth tones from the vidscreen Kirk was not paying attention too. It was not the first time either of them had been greeted like this. The woman that held the communication officer's chair during gamma shift was easily swayed into patching through secure feeds to wherever Starfleet Command requested. Spock had already asked Nyota to occupy the console when they expected a communication, but she had smiled, waved her hand, and said something about how unreasonable it was to wake up at four-thirty just for that.
Thus, here he was, cup of tea in one hand and an empty cereal bowl in front of him, staring at Christopher Pike. He waited until he finished his sip of the spice tea and set the cup down before greeting him. "Admiral." Christopher.
"Spock. Kirk." Christopher glanced between the pair, eyes lingering briefly on Spock, and finally suggested, "Maybe next time someone should include a reminder of ship time when replying back so that I don't schedule these calls before your breakfast is digested." The Admiral sounded completely amused as he focused on Kirk.
"...Not a bad thought." Kirk coughed a little, sounding neatly embarrassed without actually showing it.
Spock made a mental note to add one more piece of paperwork to his list of Things to Proofread from Kirk Before Forwarding to Starfleet Command, right alongside mission reports and formal complaints. "Since we are present and currently unoccupied, I suggest we commence with the report." He looked to Kirk as he said this, leaning back slightly in his chair.
Kirk nodded his agreement, and grabbing the padd he had brought in tucked up under his arm, started in on the report that Spock had so thoughtfully proofread the previous evening. Christopher was listening in silence as Kirk spoke, elbows on the desk where the vidscreen sat, fingers lacing in front of him. Dark gray eyes peered over top of his joined hands, concentrating as the young captain gestured and mixed respect with sarcasm throughout his speaking.
While the tone Kirk used couldn't be faulted this early in the morning, Spock also listened as he read off the report. Every so often he would hear a minor note of confusion as Kirk read over a word or a sentence that hadn't been there when he last saw it (another consequence of Spock's meticulous shadow-editor skills). He sipped his spice tea leisurely, first watching the padd, and his too-sleepy captain, and then...gradually shifting his gaze to Christopher.
Who was still in the same position - elbows on the desk, hands laced in front of him - except now he was resting his mouth against his hands, his right index finger to be exact. With both Spock and Kirk in easy view of the screen, it was impossible to tell who he was exactly focused on.
Maybe it was an appropriate position to look properly thoughtful, maybe it was a habit, but Christopher had to know what he was doing, lips so close to those strong, skilled hands. He must have known, too, that Spock would see it in that light; the position held, and Spock ran out of spice tea to properly distract himself. After setting the cup down, he glanced across the room towards the replicators. Kirk was beginning to arrive at the diplomatic repercussions of their last mission; he couldn't leave now. Instead, he returned his focus to the meeting. With the side of his hand resting on the table beside the cup, he moved the pad of his thumb across the side of his index finger, before tucking it neatly under the curve of his fingers in a very loose fist.
Those eyes flickered briefly to Kirk, studying him, before focusing on Spock again. Christopher's head pulled back slightly, just enough for his right index finger to slowly rub the left index knuckle. It could have easily been seen as rubbing at an itch, except that his eyes were unblinking, unmoving from Spock's visage, along with the crafty use of a slight eyebrow raise.
Spock remained composed, his expression calm, despite the silent reply that sent a jolt through his mind. He could feel his heart beat start to pick up in his distraction, climbing towards two-hundred-eighty beats per minute, before he caught it and forced it to slow. His fingers slowly unfolded halfway to make an L-shape with the rest of his hand, and his thumbnail scraped outwards along the inside of his little finger. Certainly Christopher did not look amused as he watched Spock's completely innocent gesture. It was equally innocent for Christopher to change his hands positions as Kirk continued, leaning his chin on his left palm, right hand ever so naturally sliding all four fingertips across the left palm. The right hand curled very slightly around the wrist and eventually came to settle on the desk, tapping slowly, leaving Christopher in the perfect picture of nonchalance.
Without a doubt, Christopher was teasing him, and Spock was beginning to doubt the exact subtlety of his movements now. He could almost feel cool, callused fingertips brush his palm, then tracing down his arm, and now each steady tap against the desk felt like a tap against his thigh. Leaning forward in his chair, Spock’s other hand settled near its partner, and he slowly, casually, scraped four nails across the back of his left hand, from wrist to first knuckle. Outside of this, he could hear Kirk talking about recommendations for further contact with the civilization they encountered, though future visitors should avoid that one red-orange drink that made the eyes burn and/or flirting with the high king's daughter(s).
As Christopher replied, he gestured lightly with the hand that had been cupping his chin, the fingers on the desk stopping their tapping. When he was finished speaking, he turned the gesturing hand back over so that he could rest his chin, and therefore his lips, against his second set of knuckles. Kirk snickered in response to Christopher's reply, sounding almost properly sheepish about his antics with the high king's daughters but obviously not actually ashamed of it. As they moved on to the final conclusions, including how they had managed to complete the entire assignment without losing any security personnel, Spock moved the tip of the thumbnail of his inside hand along the thumb of the hand cupping on the outside. To seal the report, he laced his fingers together, each long finger brushing against its neighbours.
"Impressive for your first contact with a new civilization," Christopher said with a tiny smirk on his lips. "Someone owes me two hundred credits when I receive your report."
"...You guys were betting on us!?" Kirk actually looked and sounded surprised.
"A gentleman's bet," Christopher said smoothly, sounding amused.
"...I have several choice words for that, sir, that I am respectfully thinking really hard at you," Kirk informed.
"To do so would be illogical, Captain, as neither of you have any telepathic capabilities, and certainly none that could communicate through subspace transmissions." Even as he said this, Spock knew it was a half-truth. Christopher may not have any telepathy, but their communication came clear as words whispered in Spock's mind.
To that, Kirk just sighed, "I'm not even going to bother explaining. Seriously." He glanced between vidscreen and Spock, then looked back to Christopher, "Anything else, sir?"
"That's all, Kirk."
"Good, I think I'm needed on the bridge." Kirk stood up, but before he left, leaned in and whispered against Spock's ear, "I don't want to know why you and Pike decided that making lewd Vulcan hand porn in front of me was a good idea, but couldn't it have waited until I was done giving the report and we weren't being recorded?" He didn't even give Spock a chance to be Vulcanly embarrassed before leaving the room.
Spock sat absolutely still, his eyes on the table and his hands still folded, until he heard the doors hiss open and shut with Kirk's exit. Then he glanced up at the vidscreen. He wasn't going to say anything off the record until he knew that it wasn't being recorded (at least for Starfleet Command; personal recordings had their own uses). Christopher's brows were raised, and he relaxed the sudden tension with a rumble of his voice, "Computer, pause recording."
After allowing himself to breathe again, a quiet inhale, Spock turned in his seat to better face the vidscreen directly, instead of being half-turned towards where Kirk had been sitting. "You initiated it," He accused, but in his still-calm tone, trying to remain diplomatic.
"Initiated what, Commander?" Christopher asked, sounding perfectly innocent somehow, as if he had absolutely no idea what Spock was talking about.
"I do not appreciate your selective ignorance, Admiral." He could play the title-game, too. His hands slide out from their interlock, and he leaned back in his seat, folding his arms loosely over his chest. Once, he had heard the posture described as huffy (by the same man sitting in front of him, in fact), though he vehemently denied it as such.
Speak of the devil, "Don't start huffing at me, Spock." Christopher just looked impossibly amused, a smirk on his lips as he leaned back as well. "Tell me, did you receive the package waiting for you at the Enterprise's last docking?"
A single nod. "Yes, I did." It had been quite a surprise for Spock, enough to arch one eyebrow, to see something specified for personal delivery on the cargo list. The package in question sat neatly in a corner of his quarters, between the desk and the room divider, hidden and obvious from the door to the parlour at the same time. "I have yet to open it." As the accompanying note had instructed.
"Go get it. I can wait." Christopher leaned back in his chair, looking devilishly thoughtful.
Spock may have forgotten to breathe again, and he sat a little straighter in his chair. A mental check told him it was 0537, still early enough for the officer's mess to be empty, yet..."You wish that I bring it here?" An edge of disbelief.
"I'm waiting, Spock." Was all the reply that came, but the tone had changed to one of command. Spock searched the man's face on the vidscreen, and once settled that the order was not meant in jest, he rose from his seat. Walking out of the officer's mess and into the hallways, he was thankful that it was still that limbo part of the morning: the remnants of gamma shift were dozing off, and those of alpha were likely still sleeping. He met no one as he walked to his quarters, and likewise on the return trip.
"Lock the doors." Came the immediate command as soon as Spock was in the room. "Open the package."
After saying his passcode to the computer to lock the doors, a high enough clearance assuming that Kirk didn't come looking for another bagel, Spock regarded the box in front of him on the table. It was a slender package, only about six inches wide and ten long, with a simple hard case, locked securely. Plain, boring, unobtrusive, labeled with the Enterprise's information and Spock's name. He moved his fingers along the edges, trying to predict what could be inside it, until he found the pad waiting for his thumbprint. He pressed his thumb against the cool film and watched a beam of light scan it. A green light appeared in the corner of the top of the case, and he heard a faint click from inside it. He swung the lid up with both of his thumbs, and peered inside.
Inside were two slender objects set on what looked like a folded piece of very thick leather. The first was a plain, flesh colored vibrator that seemed to be a perfect match for a very familiar human cock. The second was a particularly thick black plug. The leather, when investigated, turned out to actually be a piece of fur of incredibly soft but strong texture.
Out of the corner of his eye, Spock could see Christopher leaning forward, obviously studying him and his reactions. A light jade flush rose to his cheeks in recognition of both of these objects (the replica especially) and his eyes widened slightly. Tentatively reaching his hand in, he brushed his fingertips across each one, and then glanced back up to the vidscreen. “…you have plans for these?” That was all the thank-you Christopher would get, for now.
"What kind of Admiral would I be if I didn't?" Christopher asked in return, laughter in his voice. "The fur. Pull it out. Put the box and toys aside, for now." He leaned back a little, eyes glued to what Spock was doing. "...feel the texture of it."
Spock carefully slid out the piece of fur from the bottom of the box, noting without surprise the bottle of lubricant that had been hidden beneath the fur, and then pushed the box to the side at arms length. Holding the fur his left hand. Parting his lips to ask why he had bothered sending this along as well, he drew the fingers of his right hand across it--and his breath caught in his throat. "This--" He began, after a few moments of stillness. His fingers resumed running through the fur. "--is remarkably soft."
"I thought it would be a simple, non-assuming item to be kept in your quarters that you could enjoy," Christopher rumbled quietly as he watched, fingers tapping slowly on the desk and light years between them. "The other two... well, I'm sure there are places to hide them."
"Certainly," He agreed, though most of his attention was on the fur, now rubbing his thumb through and against it. It felt...pleasant, in any particular direction, and upon reaching that conclusion, just passed his entire palm over the fur. Very pleasant.
Christopher's voice was deeper when he spoke again. "I want you to take your other hand, and gently, lightly, draw the length of your hand over your lips and take your fingers in your mouth... while you keep stroking that fur."
The doors were locked, Spock told himself; he wasn’t going to get caught doing inappropriate things during a vidscreen communication. This, too, was Christopher: how often did he have the chance to talk to him, alone, never mind the semi-privacy? It would be logical to take advantage of this opportunity.
He placed the fur on the table from his left hand, never breaking contact between the piece and his right. There, his right hand continued to stroke the fur, fingers splayed, tips moving in circles, sometimes his whole hand moving across it in one smooth, sensual motion. His left hand, now free, touched his lips right at the wrist. The touch continued slowly over his palm and right up to the tip of his index finger, his own hot breath warming the skin. There, at the edge of his hand, Spock slid his index and middle fingers into his mouth, relishing how live and welcome heat replaced the chill of the room on his skin.
"Good." The rich, warm voice was pure encouragement. "No one's here, Spock, just you and I... I can't hear every little catch of your breath through this, so you'll have to be louder for me." Christopher was sitting closer to the vidscreen, consciously or unconsciously rubbing his thumb against the pads of his index and middle fingers as if he was imagining Spock's mouth there.
The agreeing sound he made in the back of his throat could be heard easily, he was sure. As he watched the vidscreen, eyes half-lidded, he focused on Christopher's hands, and wished he could be sucking those fingers instead. For a moment, he had to close his eyes; the fur rubbed the center of his palm and his tongue moved across the bottom of his fingers. Two distracting sensations. "Yes." Whispered so quietly from Christopher, catching that moment. "Are you hard? I am, just watching you. Been too long since you've been back to Earth." There was a quirk in his voice, "What will we do when you're out there for your five year... more of this? Me ordering you... do you like that?"
Spock drew his fingers back as he opened his eyes again; they glistened with saliva, and the chill hit harder because of it. His other hand gripped hard at the fur for a moment “Yes.” To all of his questions: his trousers were tight, more so at the idea of arousing Christopher, and then even more that they would do this more, that he would get to hear that voice, ever the Captain, ordering him to do obscene things to himself. It would never be the same as having that strong body against his, strong hands in his, but the mind could be easily fooled. Spock bit his fingertips lightly, the same that had received the previous attention, with his front teeth, sharp but not too sharp.
"Hand off the fur." Christopher commanded lowly, "Trousers, underwear, remove them." His eyes were burning a hole through that vidscreen, staring at Spock.
Reluctantly, Spock drew his hand off the fur, a residual tingle still warm on his palm. The next order he took more reluctantly. The doors were still locked, and he almost thought to fight against it, a continuous inner struggle between decency and those eyes, his lover, that continued as he stood from his seat. He undid the clasp and the zipper, hooked his thumbs over the waistband of his trousers and standard issue briefs, and slowly pulled the garments down, with no ungraceful jerk of the fabric. He toed off his boots so he could pull his trousers off completely, and then set them aside on the nearest neighbouring chair.
There was a very quiet 'hmmm' from Christopher, studying the screen intently and the figure taking up a good deal of it. "Turn the vidscreen." As soon as it was turned, a smirk touched Christopher's figure. "No other way for you to do this then to sit on the table, otherwise I won't be able to see." There was a definite tone of mischievous delight in his words.
Spock hesitated, but this one more analytical than judgmental. He turned to sit back on the table at first, sitting with his legs dangling off the edge at the knee. Then his long arms stretched back, and one foot came to prop up on the edge of the table so he could gracefully lift his body back into the centre of the table, the centre of the frame, facing Christopher. His legs folded neatly to the side, and after a quick calculation from the camera and relative height compared to the chair, he was sure that his entire body was on-screen, half-nude and flushed with arousal and excitement. And he was right, as Christopher's eyes slowly scanned down the length of Spock's body, the smirk turning into a lip-parted look of appreciation. "Beautiful." He rumbled quietly.
And in return, Spock got a matching sort of view. Not fully, considering location, but the image of Christopher leaning back in the large faux leather chair, undoing the catch on his trousers with a flick of his thumb and index finger, undoing the zip. It seemed that he had been planning all of this for some time as unlike normal, he had no underwear on. To this sight, Spock tilted his head slightly in inquiry, with an eyebrow arched in teasing fascination. "Have you been anticipating this, Christopher?" He asked, almost mocking him. His right hand curled over the back of his left, maybe nervous energy, maybe just wanting to feel the touch like he would if he was with him.
"For a while," Christopher admitted, his face softening for just a moment. "How could I not?" He let that hang for only a moment before gesturing with his fingertips. "We don't have a lot of time, but I plan to make the most of it. The toys there?" A gesture towards the box just barely seen on screen most likely. "You should find one very familiar." He sounded proud of that.
"Yes, it is quite an accurate replica." Spock reached over to the box, to lift out the vibrator in one hand. Once he held it in front of him, his fingertips of his other hand ghosted over its length again.
"Should be damn near perfect, minus being attached to me." Christopher smirked with his own joke. "Though it has two advantages over me right now."
"Obviously, one of which is that it is with me." Spock's index fingertip paused right over the head of the vibrator, and he glanced up to the vidscreen. "And the other?"
"The other you'll get to find out in a moment." Came the pleased tones, and he shifted in his seat. "Take out the lube too. I want to watch you as you open yourself up for me." Christopher watched Spock closely, head tilting ever so slightly.
Spock reached over to the box again, pulling out the bottle of lube that had revealed itself earlier, and then shifted position so his legs were up and spread in Christopher's direction. After popping the cap, he liberally applied the lubricant to three of his fingers, noting the very faint scent (that reminded him of a cozy-warm evening and chocolate pudding). Setting the small bottle aside, he leaned back on one hand, reached a hand down, and pressed a finger to his entrance. The sensation of the cold wetness crawled up his spine, threatening a shiver if he did not otherwise keep control of himself.
He worked that finger in slowly, taking slow breaths to keep himself relaxed, eyes now closed and brows narrowed slightly in concentration. Despite blindness, he could still feel Christopher's burning gaze on him, watching him slide that finger in to the first knuckle. The previous coolness of the lubricant immediately turned into a deep heat that encased his finger, feeling hotter than his body (though, distantly, he questioned the physics of such a thing). There were heated murmurs of encouragement coming from the vidscreen, low rumbles that normally would be buried against Spock's ear, Christopher's longs fingers opening him, their thoughts sliding together as one through touch.
A low groan escaped his throat as he added the middle finger, stretching himself further. His head tilted back enough to expose his throat. Lips parted to take in a deeper breath as he felt the lubricant warm inside of him again, alongside the pressure as his fingers crooked slightly. These, too, slid inside to the first knuckle. "Always so warm, making me impatient to be inside you," Christopher rumbled to Spock, "I would take that throat, offered to me, leave marks just below the edge of your collar. Something to remind you while you worked."
The words sank into his mind, caressing him like those words would if placed alongside his own thoughts from the touch-link bold and alive between them. After working those two fingers inside of himself, getting acquainted with their feel, the third finger was added. The inhale was louder than it would be in a more intimate setting, deeper with a hint of voice so it could be heard. It was followed by a quiet breathy Yesss... from the screen. Spock swallowed, drew another breath, and continued pressing in, opening himself for Christopher.
"You look perfect, just like that." The words continued in lack of hands to be able to touch and tease. "Work them in, nice and deep." The caressing voice was sounding thicker, a touch muddled compared to the clear command it had been shortly before, "I'd reach in, stroke you from the inside until you asked for me, needed me inside you..."
Spock took another shuddering breath as the fingers pressed deeper inside him. Memory told him exactly where Christopher would touch, where his fingertips would press and how they would move, and so he mimicked that motion. The pressure had him arching up with a soft gasp, and he opened his eyes to glance down at the vidscreen. "May I...?" Asking already.
And he got quite a sight, one that made the heat and flush intensify on his cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears. There was Christopher, leaning backwards and spread legged, stroking himself slowly as he watched. "Do it. Take it all at once, hard and fast as I would." A tiny sound left the Admiral's lips, a small sound of pleasure.
After slowly withdrawing his fingers, he reached over for the lube and quickly drizzled some over the vibrator lying on the table beside him. Once grabbing it, he slicked it briefly, bracing it against his thigh as he twisted his hand around it, before positioning it between his legs. Spock almost shivered when he felt the head of it press against him, a single pause before he pushed it in with one smooth movement, right up until he could feel his fingers from where he held it. A cry escaped his throat past parted lips; preparation or not, it had been too long since he had felt this, felt Christopher filling him. There was a matching hitched breath on Christopher's end, hands tightening visibly on his erection and the arm of his chair. "Yes, Spock..." Groaned out in need, as if he had actually sunk into Spock's body. "Close your eyes, I'm right there with you, in you... move." The command was strained with his desire.
Spock's arm relaxed, and he leaned back on his elbow to get the better angle. He closed his eyes and spread his legs a little more, almost as if to accommodate the man between them, already there right in his mind's eye. His fingers pulled out the vibrator half-way and then pushed back in, the cock beginning to fuck him at a steady pace. His hips rocked into the motion, each full stroke. With his eyes closed, Spock would only hear what sounded like a drawer opening and closing, then the faintest high-pitched whine.
The vibrator suddenly turned on, humming just as it slid into Spock's body on its next stroke in. "Christopher..." He moaned, appreciative, inquisitive, and surprised all at the same time. The pure sensation froze him (and his thoughts) as it pushed in near-completely and pressed up against his prostate. There was a quick chuckle from the other end of the call and Christopher practically purred for Spock to continue. The humming died, turning down to something easier to bear for the moment.
Once it settled, Spock began to fuck himself with the vibrator again, the cock thrusting into him, with every forward stroke sending a hot spark up his spine. Christopher was sitting back as he watched closely, stroking himself at a pace to match Spock's. "Harder, Spock." He growled low as he gave a visible thrust of his hips forward.
Now involving more of his arm instead of just the flex of his wrist, the cock plunged harder, faster into him, the force of the thrust sinking the vibrations deep into his body. His breathing quickened, shallowed, and when it angled up precisely, he groaned, tilting his head back as the sound left him. The speed of the vibrator was picking up matched with a brief, high-pitched whine, buzzing inside of Spock's body and against his sensitive fingers.
He had to lie back now, flat against the cold, hard surface of the table, but the thrusts never faltered in their pace. His other hand, now free, reached down to stroke his own cock, pale fingers wrapping around its length. Lying back gave Christopher a perfect view of everything happening between his legs but not of his face, such were the limitations of a vidscreen. "Wrap your fingers around yourself." Christopher's voice had gone to its lowest registers, something it only did when he was truly angry or getting close to orgasm. "You are not allowed to release," Something that had long since curled into their relationship: that sometimes things had to be reduced down to almost medical terms when issuing commands while Spock was lost like this. "Until you've made yourself come from the inside." And sometimes, they didn't.
"You are cruel," Spock half-spoke, half-breathed, his fingers tightening around his own cock, the heat of his hand keeping the cold away. His arm continued to move, pressing the vibrations into his prostate with each thrust, and his fingers tingled, almost burned, while holding the vibrator. He couldn't have let go of it if he wanted to.
"Only because you love it." Christopher's voice had settled into that deep tone that meant he was so close, but most likely was denying himself. "Harder, Spock. I'd have you bent over this desk, taking you so hard you wouldn't be able to catch your breath." Spock knew he would, knew Christopher would be pounding into him until he could do little more but moan and beg, that strong hand wrapped tight around his cock. He moved his wrist and arm with more force, rocking his hips into it, fucking himself until he couldn't think anymore outside of them, what they would, should, be doing.
At last, he rocked down onto it, pushing it deep inside of himself, the vibrations rolling out into his prostate, into his fingers, straight down to his core. He knew this would be when Christopher would press close and come inside of him, groaning into his shoulder. The flash of a thought triggered his own climax, issuing another cry that passed his lips as he arched up. The permission satisfied now, he came hard, the white-hot surge claiming his body for what felt like eternity as he prolonged it by stroking himself to completion.
"Spock. Look." The words were severely strained, and as Spock barely managed to open his eyes in time to see Christopher coming as well, head tilted back into his chair with his eyes finally closing, lips parted. His hand did not stop moving as his uniform was undoubtedly, swiftly stained, his other hand's knuckles snow-white against the chair arm they were gripping. The sight and the satisfaction of making Christopher come--no doubt mirrored on the other end--was almost enough to set him off again. Spock watched him, engrossed, as he pushed himself up with one arm again. The vibrator remained inside of him, still buzzing, threatening to make him hard again in the next four point three minutes (Vulcan stamina being notorious as it was).
Christopher slowly opened his eyes and focused on the screen in front of him, his expression sedated as he looked Spock over. "...Remove it, Spock. Take the other toy, slide into you, then sit up. You'll be leaving the other one in for the rest of the day." A lazy smirk. "It'll keep you good and open for me."
Giving Christopher a half-hearted glare through the vidscreen, Spock reached down to slide the vibrator out. Upon closer inspection, he pressed the small button at the base of it, the one that turned off its remote receiver. Setting this aside, he reached into the box for the butt plug. At present, it didn't look so thick, but he lubed it anyway, just enough, before sliding it in. It was only when Spock sat up fully, back perpendicular with the table, that he could feel it, a constant pressure. The glare was more than half-hearted now. "Is this preparation really necessary?"
"Necessary?" Christopher's smirk was growing. "No, but I want it anyway." Oh, yes, he sounded very smug, and had every right to be. He simply leaned back in his chair, still in control of the situation despite open trousers and uniformed messed in white stains.
It was at this time that Spock noticed the white stains on his own command shirt, standing out against the blue fabric. Rather than be outright embarrassed about it (he figured the flush was still lingering on his face, anyway), he simply took off his shirt and set it aside on the chair. Now almost nude before him, just the black undershirt clinging to his torso, legs folded to the side again, Spock looked at the vidscreen. He found his thoughts again. "When will we meet again?" The longing was carefully hidden out of habit--at least, mostly.
That question caused Christopher to close his eyes, calculating, before saying lightly, "I think the next time I could schedule something is in five days." A small tone of disappointment, but it was better than not seeing each other at all. "Tell me, Spock, is Jim still trying after you or has he started elsewhere?" He smirked a little. "Or should I say in reverse..."
So much for the flush beginning to fade naturally from his cheeks; he had to actively concentrate on stifling it now. "...We have settled into a relationship that is mutually favourable." A diplomatic answer that didn't really answer the question at all, yet in a way, did.
"Mmm." As if Christopher could glean a great deal of information from that. "I see. You'll have to keep me informed." He leisurely slid a hand down and captured a bit of his own release, then sucked it off the tip of his finger. "I'll be waiting for our next call, Spock."
"Likewise, Christopher." Spock agreed, and reached forward to the vidscreen to end the call, before he could get anymore aroused by Christopher's gesture.
Nine days later, the Enterprise was docking into the familiar spread of the massive space station in orbit above Earth. People were rushing through the corridors, preparing to beam down to the planet below, making their way to air locks to get to the station itself, or catching shuttles going clear to the other side of the planet. Eventually, it was down to only a skeleton crew. Spock had been anticipating arriving back at Earth every one of the nine days had passed. There had been well-hidden disappointment when the schedule did not work out from five--it never did, anyway, and so he had not kept very high expectations.
The butt plug had distracted him whenever he wore it because it heightened his sensory awareness, making him more sensitive to touch than before. It did not help things that he had Kirk for a captain. The man would slap him on the back, let his hand rest on Spock's shoulder (and other places)...the increased frequency of these acts, combined with repeated occurrence of that all-knowing grin of Kirk's led Spock to believe his captain knew more about the encounter in the officer's mess than his feigned ignorance.
Yet that wasn't on his mind as he stepped into the transporter room, carrying the small Starfleet suitcase at his side. He had packed enough for a couple of days (if clothes would be needed, though considering his previous times together with Christopher...). Kirk came into the room only a moment later, a bag slung over his shoulder. "Fuck, I can't wait to get back. Quick meeting with the higher-ups and I have a date with the most beautiful lady in the universe outside of the Enterprise." Kirk was absolutely glowing, bouncing on his heels as he stepped up beside Spock. "You'll have to go riding sometime. You even know how to ride a motorcycle?" Kirk was definitely teasing, but it was light and borne out of his excitable nature.
Spock glanced sideways at him. He knew how to pilot the Enterprise if he had to, and this man was asking if he knew how to use a two-wheeled vehicle that was self-balancing and incredibly sub-warp. "I owned one when I lived on Vulcan." Well, it had been his father's, but he got considerable mileage out of it during his last three years at home.
"Seriously?" Kirk's face dissolved into a mask of surprise, then he laughed brightly, "If you get some time to actually do something, you should come out with me. I went riding down and through Death Valley... it's like a race against time." A pause, then, "For a human, at least. You'd probably feel right at home. But its beautiful in the really early morning. I try to get to the edge of it right as midnight hits, and see if I can beat the dawn." He gave a warm smile, recalling good times from the look of it.
The idea did seem rather pleasant, if purely for aesthetic qualities, so Spock filed it away for future (either near or far). "I shall check if I am available for such an excursion." He knew that Christopher had a property in Mojave, though that was still a considerable distance using land-based transport.
"Good." Those blue eyes slid over to Spock in a nearly conspiratorial manner. "...got plans for your shore leave that don't involve science?"
He didn't look away. "Yes." That was all the information he was giving him.
Kirk chuckled and looked to the Ensign at the controls of the transporter. "Energize." Then quickly leaned over and whispered into Spock's ear as golden-white light surrounded them, "So... still got that plug in?" And they vanished from the platform.