Spock, paper, scissors
The st_xi_kink meme just giveth and giveth. Check out this magnificent prompt.
"Spock engages in stimulating game of rock paper scissors with Jim."
Now those of you who are not among the cognoscenti might say. "Rock, paper, scissors? WTF? How is that kinky?"
But it wouldn't do to explain all that here. So you'll just hafta read,
vantoase , thanks for this awesome prompt. Also, great icon. I can totally tell which one is Jim.
Title: Spock, Paper, Scissors
Length: short
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Kirk, Spock, and for extra lulz, a bonus character.
Warnings: hand porn and irritated first officers
"And humans find this diverting?" Spock's eyebrow canted to it's familiar, disbelieving angle.
"Sure," came Kirk's reply. His eyes roved over the first officer in his dress uniform. Spock was immaculate, as always. And just as always, Jim was counting the minutes until he could mess it all up -- wrinkle those pants, run his hands through that silky black hair, and maybe even ruin the mirror-shine of those boots with stray drops of sweat or come.
"My reflexes are superior to yours," the Vulcan noted.
The captain just relaxed in his chair, loose-limbed and happy. "Then you'll beat me and we'll have to find something else to do before the ambassadors need us to escort them back."
"Very well," said Spock dryly. Now that they were bonded, it was easy for Jim to read the resignation in his partner's tone. Clearly the Vulcan thought this would be no contest.
These trade talks between the Remans and New Vulcan were lengthy. Ordinarily, Spock would have simply meditated or problem-solved during this free time, but he knew from experience that it was important to keep his playful bondmate occupied. Kirk got into far less mischief that way.
"Okay," Jim prompted, "ready? One, two, three, go!"
A moment later, Kirk wrapped his hand around Spock's closed fist. "Paper beats rock. I win."
Spock was about to reprimand the captain for touching him so intimately in this public corridor, but he was puzzled by the win. The scientist in him required more data.
"One, two, three, go!"
"Hah, gotcha!" Jim ran a hand through his wavy hair, while crushing Spock's scissors with the other. He dragged his chair forward so that their heads were closer together.
Spock was stoic throughout several repetitions, all of which Kirk won. The Vulcan's brow furrowed in concentration. This was illogical. Statistically, he should have won at least 1.73 rounds by now.
However, after three further losses, enough was enough. "Captain. What is the manner of deception that is allowing you to win?"
Kirk's face split into a genial smile. "Aw, Spock, I'm not tricking you. I just have more experience with this."
When Spock won the very next round, he became affronted, certain that Kirk had allowed him the victory. Especially when he lost the next three.
"Give up yet?" the audacious blue eyes pinned him to his seat.
"I concede nothing." came the tight reply. He slid back into his ramrod posture as a Reman aide exited the negotiation chambers and passed them by.
"Ready?"
"Captain. This is an inappropriate venue."
"Oh, come on Spock. We're not breaking any regulations."
Silence.
"Spo-ock," JIm wheedled. "Are you annoyed that I'm winning?"
At this the Vulcan rose, glanced both ways down the corridor, and strode to the door directly across from them. It was a secretarial office, that had remained generally unoccupied for the past several hours. With a second pair of glances, he ascertained that no one would be able to see him collar his mate and drag him quickly inside.
Their hideaway was lit only by the light of one or two small moons. The Remans were nocturnal and as a gesture of good will, the Vulcans were obliging. The chamber was also pleasantly cool. But the moment they were secluded, Spock became anything but.
"I would have thought," he snarled, unfastening the front of Jim's uniform tunic, "that by now your experience of Vulcan culture would have made you aware of the impropriety of your so-called game."
The breath went out of Jim in a huff. He loved it when Spock got like this. "But we were -"
"There was no need to actually touch my hands." The eyebrow again. All of a sudden Kirk got the crazy urge to lick it. But he didn't. He'd gone about as far as he dared.
Spock's strong and fluid hands made quick work of his fly and before Jim knew it, he was on his knees, mouth stuffed full of Vulcan cock, reveling in the taste and slippery texture of his first officer's pre-come. His own tool was ramrod stiff and tangled uncomfortably in his underwear, but he couldn't sneak a hand down to move it. Both his hands were occupied in making sure Spock didn't choke him with his dick. But the Vulcan was having none of it. Expertly, he pinned the captain's wrists against his hips and held them there as he rutted into the human's cool, willing mouth.
Jim was, as he'd bragged to Spock after their initial encounter, a fellatuoso. But even he was hard-pressed to keep from gagging at this point. Apparently, this was a "you play with fire" kind of lesson. Still, he didn't exactly mind. Not even when, as was inevitable, he did choke and was hauled, drooling and panting, to his feet, unceremoniously spun, and pantsed to the knees.
Of course, there was a flat surface handy. That was unsurprising. The surprising thing was how fast it rushed up to meet him. Oh, hello, embassy desk. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
The Vulcan was on him like the Romulan armada, up inside in no time. After a swat to the back of Jim's head for that uncharitable similie, Spock proceeded to thrust with vigor. His fingers were clamped to Jim's hips, leaving bruises that his captain would, in his illogical manner, cherish for days afterwards.
Jim fumbled for his own erection which Spock again disallowed. The Vulcan's instructions through the bond were quite succinct. He would take this. He would not stimulate himself manually and he would certainly not leave evidence of their self-indulgent encounter in this office. He would keep both hands on the desk and submit. Afterwards they would sit composedly in the corridor for the remainder of this evening's session. There would be no more tricking Spock into sex in public places, in fact there might even be another attempt at teaching Kirk to control his impulses through meditation.
Kirk took it. There was no arguing with Spock when he was like this. Besides, the captain was getting what he wanted, more or less. HIs heart was hammering. His ass was awesomely full and it was getting reamed like he'd been wanting for days. Also, Spock's thrusts were getting shallower and less measured, indicating he was about to finish.
The orgasm rolled through both of them. Sometimes Spock's climax was enough to make Kirk shoot his load too, but a firm grip on the base of his cock forestalled that outcome.
Damn, thought Jim as Spock withdrew and refastened both of their trousers. This was going to be one serious case of blue balls.
The top button on his pants had been a casualty of the onslaught, but of course Spock had seen where it went. He retrieved it slid it into one of the captain's pockets with no more ceremony than when he handed over a PADD for Kirk's inspection. Jim was sitting on the desk now, with unsteady fingers and legs. Spock had done up his tunic and was smoothing out the wrinkles on his own.
Spock's backward glance, when he paused at the door, got Jim up off the table. When he fell in beside his first officer, the door hissed aside and they emerged to encounter three of the most confused looking Vulcan ambassadors he had ever seen. And Sarek was at their head.
Jim didn't see so much as feel Spock tense up through the bond, flooding his mind with embarrassment.
"The negotiations reached an impasse today," the rich, measured cadence of Sarek's voice filled the hallway, conveying more disapproval than Kirk had ever thought possible in so even a tone.
"All righty then," and he flashed them a jaunty smile, full of Kirk-like charm. "I guess it's back to the ship."