Trek fic--I Had The Best Idea
So he made a mental note, back in that transporter room, a reminder for later, just a hey, if I live through this, I need to remember to- When he got a second.
And now he’s a captain, he’s got an awesome ship with an awesome crew, they’re in warp and headed for unexplored space, and nobody’s even shooting at them. He’s alive and he’s got a second.
So Spock and Uhura are dating.
Jim’s never really hung out around Vulcans-and aside from Spock, he probably won’t be doing it much in the future, either, he thinks with a wince-but the weirdest rumors float around about their sexuality. He’s always meant to find a Vulcan girl and figure out which of them were true-
-also something that probably isn’t going to happen, now-
-but he never got around to it. But any species that cool and controlled…they’ve got their survival instincts pinned down so tight that when they let them out, it has to be impressive.
Like on the bridge. He wonders, suddenly, if Spock was hard when he was beating the shit out of him. Jim was too busy asphyxiating to notice. But you can learn a lot about a guy by figuring out if fighting turns him on.
Maybe he should try to provoke Spock into it again.
Although he’s the captain now, and he’s supposed to be-responsible, or something. And if he wasn’t doing it for good, Earth-saving reasons like last time, Uhura would probably kill him in his sleep.
He grins. That might be hot.
He can’t believe they’re sleeping together. He wonders if the sex is good. They didn’t look at all hot and heavy in the transporter-which Jim doesn’t get, really; aren’t please-don’t-die kisses supposed to have more tongue than that?-but they can’t kiss like that all the time, or neither of them would ever get hot enough for sex. Let alone orgasms.
God, he wants to make Uhura come. He’s fantasized about what she’d look like so many times over the years that he doesn’t even have to try, in order to picture it-mouth open, hair falling over her naked shoulders, sharp, high noises-
He wonders if Spock makes her come. Probably he does; Jim can just picture him working at it, figuring out exactly what touch gets which response, putting it all together like a puzzle until he can do it perfectly. Maybe he’d even smile, if he got it right.
And that mental picture-the details build up automatically: Uhura sprawled out on her bed, panting-maybe she’s just screamed, maybe she’s just come for minutes, come eight times in a row, come so hard her brain, her always-ticking multifunctional xenolinguistic brain has completely whited out, nothing but Spock and this one second in her head-and Spock, kneeling over her, maybe with his mouth and his fingers wet with her, maybe hard himself, looking at her with that little smile that Jim’s seen maybe twice on his face-
“Captain.”
He shakes the picture away, with difficulty. “Yes, Mr. Sulu?”
“Coming up on Anyon IV,” says Sulu. “We’ll be out of warp in five minutes.”
So he’s going to have to come back to this later. Sometime when he has…more than a second. “Thank you, Mr. Sulu.”
He thinks about it when he jerks off that night, the two of them fucking-he calls up the picture he’d had on the bridge, which is no trouble, it pops up clear as a viewscreen. Uhura gasping on her back, Spock above her, pleased with himself, and hard.
Spock, Jim thinks, maybe tries to control himself during sex, keep his emotions out of it, give as much pleasure to his partner as possible because pleasing her is logical, let himself come because release is beneficial to his body. Xenobiology might have been vague about Vulcan sexual function, but Jim knows they’ve got endorphins, too.
But with Uhura-
Uhura, Jim can bet, would not put up with any of that shit. Part of what makes her so hot is how much emotion she’s got in there with her genius test scores and her forty-seven languages. He loves it when she’s pissed at him, it gets him hard if she keeps it up for too long, and one of his long-term goals has been to get her focusing some lust in his direction. He’s pretty sure the two of them together could explode some brain cells.
And there is no way she has logical sex. Even if she’s never had a voluntary conversation with him, he knows her better than that. She probably blows Spock’s mind.
He builds the picture up again, pictures Spock trying to ease inside her, keep it slow and steady until he comes, maybe bring her off another time in the process. Trying to keep it under control, but he’s so hard after watching her, sweating a little (not a lot, Vulcans have high body temperatures and significant stamina), gasping a little himself. That calm expression slipping off his face, something harsher taking its place-God, Jim can remember on the bridge, Spock over him, face contorted, the first time he’d ever seen Commander Spock-discomposed. Uhura’s probably seen him lose his shit a million times, seen his face break down and start looking desperate. She probably knows, when she sees it, that it’s time to arch up, dig her nails in-maybe bite down, on Spock’s lower lip or the flesh of his shoulder, make him shudder and move a little faster. She’ll be able to read him like a fucking book by now-Jim wishes, for a second, that he were real friends with her, so she could teach him how to do that.
She’ll be soaking wet after coming so many times, hot and tight, and maybe she’ll flip them over-not right away, but when Spock’s ready to give it up, when he’s started thrusting harder, faster, started losing control-Jim shudders, hand around his dick, arching up off his bed-she could roll them, put Spock on his back under her, where he can’t do anything, where his control is useless, where the only thing to do would be to let go and feel. And she rides him, until he’s shuddering and gasping under her. Until the only thing he can do is come-
Jim comes, hot and slippery all over his stomach, wrung out and breathless. He wonders how long it would take him to convince them that a threesome would be a good idea. Years, probably.
Well, he can start tomorrow.