Fic: In the Name of Glove
Title: In the Name of Glove
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~5500
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: Jim gives Spock a pair of fur-lined gloves to wear on a diplomatic mission. What happens when the fur does more to Spock's hands than keep them warm? Shoot-off from 'That Would Be Illogical'.
Author's note: So in another of my stories, it mentions these gloves that Jim gives Spock for his birthday and how he goes through a diplomatic mission with a hard-on. I commented on how I wanted to write it out and people agreed whole-heartedly that I should. So here it is. Not Beta-ed because I'm weird like that. And I realize Spock probably wouldn't wear real fur, but he kills people for Jim (which is like the biggest no-no in Vulcan philosophy) so I don't think it's that far of a stretch that he would wear it if Jim gives them to him as a gift.
I eye the wrapped box that sits in my hands. It is roughly 22.5cm long, 14cm wide and 4.8cm high. Its wrapping is blue and it has green ribbon tied around it with a small bow on top. It is 113.5 grams in weight.
I look at Jim, who is beaming at me, which distracts me momentarily from my question. “What is the purpose for giving me a gift?”
“Well, it was supposed to be a birthday present, but your birthday’s in, what? 30 days?”
“26.67 days.”
His grin grows slightly. He always seems amused by my precision. “Right, in 26.67 days. I figured I’d give it to you a bit early since you could use them today.”
I frown. “Given your last metaphysical and superstitious gifts, I cannot presume that this gift will be very useful.”
“Just open it.”
I pause before undoing the ribbon. Careful not to rip the paper, I peel back the glued tabs on one side of the present. I slide the box out of the wrapping. It is a simple brown paper box. I take off the lid. I raise an eyebrow and lift out a pair of black leather gloves lined with a brown fur that is very soft to the touch.
“I figured you normally get cold sometimes on away missions so you could use some gloves.”
I give a small nod and suddenly feel a growing sense of gratitude that he would think of my well-being. “Where did you buy them?”
“I got them a couple of months ago on Argelius II.”
I look at him suspiciously. The inhabitants of Argelius II are very hedonistic people who value pleasures so highly that they hire aliens to be their administrating officials because no native wishes to do the jobs themselves. “Are these gloves claimed to have any properties? Perhaps the leather is supposed to promote a healthy libido?”
Jim laughs. “No, no. They’re just gloves. They did have a lot of oils and lotions that were supposed to heighten sexual gratification, but I figure I’m stimulating enough, and I don’t need my First Officer going into a coma from overwhelming pleasure every time we have sex,” he says with a sly smirk.
I raise an eyebrow. “Indeed,” I agree simply, causing him to laugh. Stroking his ego gives him about as much pleasure as stroking other pieces of his being. “Then I thank you.”
He leans to kiss be but my room’s comm. whistles. He sighs and pulls away. I answer. “Spock here.”
“Kirk. Sickbay. Now. Or you’re grounded.” Dr. McCoy’s agitated voice suddenly comes through loudly before cutting the connection.
“What am I, five?” Jim grumbles. “How can he ground me in space from going to the ground?”
I have never heard the expression of ‘grounding’ someone, and although I can deduce the meaning, I do not know how to respond to his question so I ignore it. “You need the inoculation against native diseases and stimulants against hypothermia. You cannot avoid it. I suggest you do not delay your arrival to Sickbay before Dr. McCoy proceeds with his… threat.”
“Yeah,” he groans. He pecks me on the cheek. “I’ll see ya in the transporter room.”
--//-//--
Vulcan’s are not known to grit their teeth. Gritting ones teeth is caused by emotions. Vulcans do not feel emotions; therefore, they have no compulsion to commit this act. I however have found myself gritting my teeth on many various occasions since joining Starfleet and especially since I became the First Office of Captain Kirk. In order to keep my emotional resolve when faced with his brash, outlandish and often incredulous actions, I have found myself clenching my jaw to prevent me from bursting in anger and smacking him forcibly in the back of the head. I have made a conscious effort to lessen the frequency of gritting in order to prevent the enamel of my teeth from being worn down.
I still involuntarily grit my teeth in diplomatic situations. While (most of) the personnel of the Enterprise are aware of and respect my personal boundaries, it is rarely the case when we meet with dignitaries on new planets. As to not offend, I have made it habit to meditate for as long as possible before hand, strengthening my mental shields against the onslaught of emotions that will be transmitted to me through touch. If the customs of the native people center on excessive touching, I will often not attend. But only if I trust the Captain to refrain from causing an incident. My trust in this is more often than one would initially expect.
Iota II is an icy Class M planet on the edge of the Alpha quadrant. The natives call themselves Glohrns. They discovered warp drive half a century ago, to which shortly after, First Contact was made. Today, we were sent by the Federation to negotiate their joining as well and receiving mining rights to the planet. Pergium is a rare but essential element used by many worlds as a power source for nuclear reactors. The admittance of Iota II is considered Top Priority.
The Glohrns, thick-haired humanoids with large girths, are a very tactile people. It is said to have adapted from their climate being extremely cold most of their year. Platonic sharing of body heat is customary during their long winters. Much of their communication is conveyed through touches. One of their most frequent contacts is through hands. Holding and shaking of the hands is viewed as a sign of trust and friendliness. Usually I would never have considered beaming down to this planet. I would be completely unable to hold up my mental shields if I needed to hold hands will multiple people. However, this is with skin-to-skin contact. Because Iota II is so frigid, we will be wearing heavy clothing, including gloves, and the cloth will greatly dull any emotional transference. Therefore, I saw no reason to not attend the diplomatic negotiations on Iota II. The leather of the gloves Jim gave me would serve to eliminate and transference.
I find myself, however, in a different predicament.
This was not something I had anticipated. I had never worn fur-lined gloved before. I admit the fur had felt pleasant to the touch when I first examined them, but I never anticipated the strong effect it would have when my whole hand was wrapped in the soft pelt. Perhaps it was my mistake to wait until we were standing on the transporter pad to put them on. When we beamed down and I shook the hand of High Priest Yulep, the effect was immediate.
When he firmly gripped my hand, the fur brushed and the sensation hit me as if I had been kicked in the stomach. All of my muscles tensed. My skin tingled and a shiver ran down my back. My mind was momentarily clouded with arousal. I bit my tongue to prevent a groan from passing through my lips.
It was not until he released my hand that my mind cleared and I was able to catalogue my reaction. My heartbeat increased had increase. My breathing became heavy and slightly ragged. I could feel my genitals becoming engorged with blood. My tension went unnoticed by everyone except Jim, who gave me a slightly quizzical look.
I am immensely grateful that I am wearing thick clothing.
Initially, I believed that a strong emotional transference had occurred. I may be wearing gloves, but if the Glohrns were also strong touch telepaths, there would be little dulling effect. I had neglected to reinforce my mental shields; I did not believe it would be a necessity. I also had not performed my usual meditations the night before due to Jim… distracting me. However, a quick check found that my mental shields are still intact. I clenched my hands slightly and found my body giving the same reaction, if somewhat lessened. My eyes widened slightly. The gloves.
“It is an honor that your Federation would take such interest in our humble planet,” Priest Yulep grinned, taking both of Jim’s hands and bowing.
The Captain bows as well. “We appreciate you allowing us to learn from you.” The line is rehearsed but the grin is genuine.
I find myself staring at their joined hands and a strange sensation rolls over me. I soon identify it as a combination of jealousy and annoyance.
“Yes, I am sure we will learn much from your party as well.” Yulep releases one hand but continues to grasp the other. “Come, Captain. We have prepared a welcoming meal. We may become more acquainted there.” He leads Jim by the hand out of the courtyard and inside the main building. The look on his face shows he is attempting not to laugh. He expressed earlier this humor with their custom of handholding.
Reith, a shapely woman that was introduced as Yulep’s wife, offers her hand to escort me. I hesitate, but manage to hide my reluctance by giving a short nod of my head. She clasps my hand firmly and feelings of arousal spike through me as my muscles constrict once more. I feel my erection strain. I suppress a moan as she guides me inside.
I find myself contemplating that it is very befitting that these gloves are from Argelius II.
--//-//--
Most dignitaries we have spoken with are easily offended and if their customs are not followed carefully and precisely, they may refuse to negotiate or demand another representative, usually with some form of mandatory compensation for any past indignities. It was not until Jim mentioned it once in an annoyed mumble that I suddenly acknowledge how strange, and rather hypocritical, it is that they demand our understanding of and adherence to their customs and societal etiquette, yet feel no need to learn or recognize our own. Jim describes the reason for this phenomenon as a ‘home field advantage’.
The Glohrns, thankfully, are one of the more accommodating and understanding species that we have negotiated with. They freely, and seem very happy to, explain their customs and traditions with no antagonism. They will also often make inquiries as to our own societal standards. I do not believe that they recognize me as a separate alien race from the humans of our landing party. Indeed, there are actually few differences in appearance between humans and Vulcans. I do not correct their conclusion; their ignorance prevents me from being asked questions of my own race’s decorum and being the center of much attention.
I am grateful for this, as I currently find myself operating on autopilot. It is the only way I can control my mental shields. A lifetime of Vulcan discipline and I am struggling to keep my emotions bottled.
When speaking, it is customary to hold the hand of the person you are directly talking to. If one is talking to a large number of people, you hold a hand from the two highest-ranking individuals. If you pass items, you pass with one hand and shake with the other. In an attempt to keep hand grasping to a minimum, this has by far become my lowest participation in negotiations by a large margin. I only speak when asked, prompted or if I believe there is information or an idea that I should contribute.
My body is starting to ache with the continuous muscle constriction when I stiffen my body to suppress shivering or moaning. My erection has not lessened since the first handshake. My hands are beginning to become over-stimulated and are more sensitive than they were initially; now even the barest stroke of fur sends need throughout my body.
I find my attention to be directed at Jim a majority of the time, which is not unusual. I normally watch him as my Captain to make sure he is following decorum. Now, however, I look at him as my bondmate. My arousal has focused on my lover.
Thankfully his thick clothing obscures his form, but his handsome face is visible, causing images of it in the throws of passion to appear in my mind. When he breathes out and a puff of white air mushrooms from his mouth, I can feel his hot, moist breath against my skin. His voice rings in the halls and in my head, and I can hear him whisper endearments near my ear. His appendages move as he speaks, his ideas and thoughts animated by his body, and I can feel his weight on me, his calloused hands exploring my skin.
I look away to edit the mining agreement contract on my PADD.
I have, somehow, managed to keep all of this from drifting over to Jim through our connection. I am close to, if not fully, compromised; I do not wish to distract him as well. With the First Officer out of commission, it would be dire to extend such a… an affliction to the Captain. He still knows that something is bothering me with only physical cues, which I am surprised. It shows how well he knows me that he can detect my attitude without help from our connection. I can easily derive his emotions because he freely shows them; I show a stoic face and yet he still knows. It is slightly daunting to me, but I am not in the right mind to analyze it.
“Mr. Spock, can I speak with you?”
I turn to see Jim standing behind me, frowning slightly at his PADD. I stare at his pouting lips for a long moment, suppressing a tremble. “Of course, Captain.”
Jim sets his PADD down. I do the same and follow him out of the room. We travel far down the hall until we come to an empty discussion chamber. Once we both enter, I turn to close the door but quickly stop before I reach the handle. I glance down to my gloved hands. I decide to leave the door where it is and drop my arms to my sides. I turn to approach him.
He looks at me concerned. “You ok? You look more flushed than usual.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that why you wished to speak to me?”
“What? No it isn’t actually, but you just look a little ill.” He frowns. “Is the cold getting to you? I’m sure I can excuse you if you want to go back to the Enterprise and warm up. These people are pretty understanding, and I don’t want you getting hypothermia.”
I consider taking his offer, but I know diplomacy is not Jim’s forte and it would be difficult without me, especially since I complete most of the paperwork. I could have another sent down, but I am far more efficient, causing negotiations to be completed faster, which is always Jim’s main goal whether they end in our favor or not. I consider beaming up, getting another stimulant from Dr. McCoy and, before I beam back down, meditating for half an hour and switching to another pair of gloves. Yet if Jim would notice my switch… He was extremely proud to give me these gloves, I do not want to make him upset.
I give an internal sigh. “No. I thank you for your concern but I am not ill.”
He looks at me thoughtfully. “Is it the handholding?”
I stare at him for a long moment. I take in the red flush of his cheeks and the pink of his lips. His blond hair blends into the brown of the fur lining of his hood. His blue eyes are emphasized by the light blue, ice décor. The cold makes Jim look extremely exotic. My heart rate increases and my arousal spikes for a moment before I suddenly snap back to awareness. What had he asked?
“I will confess the contact is becoming slightly overwhelming,” it is certainly not a lie, “but I believe I am capable of finishing the proceedings.”
“You’re sure?”
I attempt to steady myself before suddenly blurting out. “Quite. I would prefer to be present if you cause another incident.”
He frowns. “I’m not that horrible. I doubt these people could be offended even if I tried.”
“Please do not,” I quickly say. “Knowing your rate of success, I am certain that you would succeed.”
He grins at me, and that is more than I can take.
I would like to say that it was a logical action. The most logical way to let go of some of the sexual tension built up in my system would be to release some of it. But when I back him against the wall, capturing his lips and invading his mouth that had opened in surprise, it only causes the pressure to build. My gloved hands are placed on the wall on either side of his shoulders. My fingers twitch and cause a small tingle to travel through my body once more.
I leave his lips, which seem strangely warm because of the frigid air, and move to quickly kiss up his jaw line. The fur of his hood brushes against my face.
“Spock, what-” he begins to say, but I find the sensitive area where his jaw and ear meet and lick it, causing his voice to break.
Jim is even more intoxicating closer. His skin is soft against my lips. It tastes deliciously salty from a thin layer of sweat attempting to cool his body in his warm clothing. Even through the layers I can feel his body heat seep into mine. I breathe in deeply. His musk fills my nostrils and causes me to close my eyes, allowing my sense of smell to be heightened. I hear his breath become ragged. His hands grip my jacket and I can feel him pull me closer. I oblige and lean into him further, causing a groan to escape his lips. My shields are completely gone. My arousal is pouring into him, amplifying it. He seems entirely overwhelmed. He normally reacts to my sexual invitations aggressively and with fervor, but the sudden bombardment of my over-stimulated mind seems to have caught him off guard. He is almost dazed.
“I believe you had an inquiry?” I ask against his neck, my voice rough and low.
“Wha?” he asks meekly.
“There was something you had to discuss.”
“Oh. Right. Schedule,” he says slowly. He pauses for a long moment before muttering, “S’not important.”
My lips travel down his neck until I reach cloth blocking his skin. I remove my hands from the wall and start to unbutton his jacket. The fur brushes my fingertips and I inadvertently thrust my hips into his.
“Spock,” he gasps hoarsely.
As I proceed to the second button, my sensitive ears suddenly hear over his heavy breathing a distant door open and footsteps. My eyes widen and I suddenly step back from the wall, bringing him with me. I quickly let go and step back to create some distance between us. I flatten my jacket, ignoring the stimulation, and place my hands at my sides. It takes me much less time to successfully rebuild my mental shields than I thought it would.
Jim looks at me incredulously and confused, looking to have recovered his cognitive abilities with the absence of my influence. “What?” is all he manages to say.
“Now is not the time, Captain,” I say quickly, looking away.
He looks at me angrily. “You’re kidding right? You can’t just slam me against a wall and start me up, then stop abruptly. How am I supposed to go through this diplomatic meeting with a hard-on?”
I shoot him a sharp glare, filled with irritation I cannot suppress.
He looks at me wide eyed and closes his mouth, getting the implication that to press it any further would be ill advised for the sake of his health.
I suddenly feel very resentful. If I have to go through this mission with such an affliction, he might as well also. He is the cause, after all.
Priest Yulep peeks through the open door with a look of concern on his face. We both straighten to our formal postures. He looks hesitantly between us. “Captain Kirk, I hope there is not a problem?” he says, not attempting to grab either of our hands.
Jim opens his mouth to reply but cannot seem to think of one. I seemed to have quite successfully diverted his blood away from his brain to lower anatomy. Anatomy I have an uncontrollable urge to grab at this very moment.
“Of course not,” I say in his place. “The captain merely wished to discuss the rest of today’s schedule. You and your people are much more hospitable and willing to compromise than we had anticipated. We wished to arrange the schedule to facilitate a quick and successful talk.”
“Ah,” the priest smiled. “I see. Would you like more time to confer?”
Jim smiles, though it was slightly forced. “No, I believe we are finished.”
The priest’s smile widens and he holds out his hand for the captain who shoots me a glance that tells me this is going to be discussed later. He walks forward and takes the offered hand, allowing himself to be lead back to the conference room.
I see the priest give Jim’s hand a squeeze. I some how manage to suppress a low growl from escaping my throat. I clench my hands to fists and give a quick, shocked inhale as the sensation rips through me and causes my erection to strain once again.
I do not believe in deities, but as I follow, I pray this mission does not last much longer.
--//-//--
I do not remember quite how the negotiations ended. I assume for the better, as I think I recall everyone, both the natives and crew, was smiling when we stood at the transporter point. I am not completely certain. Which is troublesome, but not surprising, as I had been chanting Vulcan mantras in my head for the last… hour or so. My internal clock had been one of the first things to go.
I had to restrain myself from bolting out of the transporter room when we materialized back onto the Enterprise. Instead, I… walked with purpose. I could hear Jim giving rushed orders to the crewmen awaiting our return before quickly following after me. I refused to look at him in the turbo lift or during the walk towards the officers’ quarters. I needed to wait; I did not wish to be interrupted. I punch in the code to his quarters without asking for consent.
As soon as the doors close behind us, I grab his jacket and pull him in for a hard kiss. My grip sends sparks through my body and only makes the kiss more urgent. Jim seems to be expecting it this time and reciprocates with equal intensity. I suck on his tongue and faintly taste the aquatic animal meat that had been offered planet side by the priest. If it sickens my stomach, I do not notice. I quickly back him to the bed and push him down. He looks as if he is going to ask a question, but I stop it with my tongue before it can leave his mouth.
I fumble with his jacket and the under layers of his clothing, the gloves causing me to moan and begin to loose concentration. After another moment of attempting to rid him of his clothing by undoing the clasps, I loose my patience and rip open first the inner jacket, then his uniform and under shirts. I swallow Jim’s surprised grunt before pulling back to sit on his hips.
I fling the gloves off and roughly caress his warm, smooth chest with my newly naked hands. The contact slams us with each other’s arousal through our bond and causes both of us to gasp.
Jim grabs the back of my neck and crashes our mouths together once again. Although I whimper at the loss, I take my hands away and tear off my own clothing. It only takes another moment before we have both divested ourselves of all of our clothing.
Jim pulls me further onto the bed and rolls us over, positioning himself between my legs. He trails his fingers down my chest to my stomach to my thigh, purposefully not touching my swollen cock. He smirks at me. “How long have you had this?”
It is straining and I am so close already I can barely endure it. I reach my hand to stroke myself by he bats it away. “Jim,” I hear myself plead, but I am too far-gone to care for my Vulcan pride.
He grabs my thighs and spreads them further apart causing me to squirm slightly. “I wonder how little stimulation I can give you before you come. Probably not much.” He bends down low and heaves a hot, moist breath on the shaft.
I hear a whimper that I assume comes from me. I feel another gust of breath against the head. I gasp and shudder against the sensation, gripping the sheets. I feel a small spurt against my stomach.
“Wow,” he says surprised, drawing back slightly. “I’m good, great, amazing actually, but I’ve never even seen that happen before.”
“Jim, do not tease me.” Each time I am pushed to the edge but I cannot seem to make it over.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Jim murmurs, kissing my stomach. He looks up at me, smiling. “You’ve had this quite a while, haven’t you? Since before you tried to hump me against that wall.” He kisses the inside of my thigh, causing my breath to hitch. “You were such a good boy at the negotiations,” he kisses at the junction of my thigh and leg, “waiting.” He kisses at the base of my penis. “What got you so turned on?”
“Jim!” I snap angrily.
“That’s what I thought,” he smirks devilishly before giving a fast, long, full lick to the underside of my cock from the base to the tip.
I clench my eyes shut. I bite down on my wrist to stop me from shouting out as my back arches and I am hit with a strong orgasm that tears through my body and to every nerve. My abdomen is soon covered with my semen. As my climax begins its ride down, all of the muscles in my body completely relax for the first time since beaming down.
I look up at Jim, who hovers over me. He wears a wide grin on his face as he stares down at me lying wanton on the sheets. “Fuck, do you have any idea how beautiful and awesome that was?”
I suddenly catch the scent of my lover as he leans down over me. Lust flares in me again. I put my arms around his neck and pull him down to crash our mouths together again. He happily kisses back. His smooth tongue rubs against mine as I explore his mouth.
Without breaking the kiss, Jim reaches over and grabs the lubricant from the drawer in the bedside table. He covers his fingers and rubs them together to warm the liquid. It takes barely any preparation time before my muscles are relaxed. He mutters praise against my lips for my Vulcan muscle control as he lubricates his cock before positioning himself at my entrance.
“No,” I say as I grab his shoulders and shove him to lie on his back. I straddle his hips and look down at him.
He is flushed, smirking up at me. “Man, something’s got into you.”
“No,” I murmur, still breathless. I lean down. “But something will be.”
He laughs. “Fuck, Spock.”
“Yes, that is the idea.” I reach down and grab his cock, giving a strong stroke.
His smirk widens. “You call me a tease.”
I position his tip on the relaxed muscle and begin to slide down. As soon as the head is through, I lose my patience, desperate to be full, and slam down quickly so that I am fully penetrated.
He gasps and grips my thighs.
This is rarely a position we utilize, as I am quite content with him taking the lead, so it takes me a few moments before I find the correct angle. Pleasure suddenly rips though me as the tip of his cock hits my prostate. Gripping my hands tight on his shoulders, I begin to bounce in a quick pace with Jim beginning to meet with a shallow, involuntary thrust up. I soon speed up, slamming down and causing the sound of our flesh hitting to fill the room.
I lean down and roughly capture Jim’s mouth again. It is partly kissing, partly swallowing each other’s pants, and partly breathing each other’s air.
After a while, I feel my strength begin to give out. My rhythm becomes slow and erratic until I finally stop, only able to rock slightly now. I break the kiss and move my face to the crook of his neck. I take deep breaths, surrounding myself with Jim’s musk. My Vulcan stamina normally lasts much longer than this. I should not be this tired yet. It takes me a moment to realize. I had been tense throughout the negotiations in order to keep my arousal in check; my muscles had been constricted throughout the time I wore the gloves. I did not realize how much energy it had taken.
He licks the shell of my ear, a hot breath filling it, and I exhale sharply. “Aw, you aren’t gettin’ tired on me now, are you?” Jim whispers against my ear, his cool hands travel from my thighs to my hips. He suddenly thrusts up strongly and I give a small shout in surprise.
He removes his hands from my sides, causing a disapproving groan from me. He uses his arms to push himself up to a sitting position, bringing me up with him.
I put my arms around him. My grip on his neck slips on a sheen of sweat. I can feel the muscles in his back shift under his skin as he lifts me up and slams me down, impaling me deep each time. His arms flex each time he raises me. His rough hands, warmed by my skin, firmly grip the curve of my ass. I can still feel a dull burn in my thighs and back from when I had been the one riding him.
Our chests are flushed against each other. I can feel my newly hardened erection rubbing against his stomach, slick from the semen of my previous release. With each lift, I’ve begun to let out a small moan.
I can feel his tip nudge just to the side of my prostate. My head falls back. “Jim, please.”
I could feel him smile on my neck near my Adam’s apple. “Tell me what you want, babe,” he murmurs against my skin. His hot breath causes my own to hitch in my throat.
“You,” I pant, “you are… are not hitting, ah! Hitting it.”
“Oh?” His voice is low and rough and filled with lust. “You’re gonna have to tell me where I need to go, babe.”
He is teasing me. While Vulcan prostates are placed slightly different than a human’s, Jim has full knowledge of where mine is through learned practice. He wants me to ask for it. My pride always prevents me from giving into him right away. Sometimes, if I hold out long enough, Jim will bring himself close to completion before I say it, to which he gives up and fucks me in earnest. Usually, however, my resolve will give out and I will have to beg because I cannot wait.
But I am far too impatient to play his game today. I grab the back of his hair and jerk his head back. He drops me back down and stills. He looks at me with surprise before a smirk covers his face.
“Hit it,” I growl.
He obediently slams into it directly and I shout, tightening my grip on his shoulders. He demonstrates the well-practiced skill he enjoys bragging about as he hits it each time from then on. My pleasure builds quickly, faster than I had ever felt before. My mind goes blank. My vision goes pure white as my eyes roll back into the head. I think I hear myself grunting with each slam, but I can’t be sure.
My climax hits me in successive, unrelenting waves and I throw my head back in a silent scream. I constrict around him. He thrusts a few more times before I hear him yell and soon feel the strange warmth that means he has climaxed as well. My muscles begin to give out and I feel myself begin to fall backwards onto the bed. Jim’s arms wrap around me tighter and pull me against him; my seed smears against both our bodies. He carefully lifts me once again and pulls out before setting me back down on his lap.
I drape my arms around his neck and put his lips to mine. It is gentle and slow and sweet, a quiet postlude to the high passion of the sex that just occurred. We both collapse sideways onto the bed, our legs tangled and our heads missing the pillows.
“Are you gonna let me know what brought that on?” His voice is hoarse and winded, still filled with the aftermath of arousal.
It takes me a few deep breaths before I manage to respond. “No. I do not think I wish to tell you.”
He grins, his sweaty forehead pressed against mine. “Is this gonna happen again?”
I think of the gloves he gave me, of the fur lining, of his face at orgasm, of the likelihood of visiting another ice planet. “Probably,” is all I can manage to say.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~5500
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: Jim gives Spock a pair of fur-lined gloves to wear on a diplomatic mission. What happens when the fur does more to Spock's hands than keep them warm? Shoot-off from 'That Would Be Illogical'.
Author's note: So in another of my stories, it mentions these gloves that Jim gives Spock for his birthday and how he goes through a diplomatic mission with a hard-on. I commented on how I wanted to write it out and people agreed whole-heartedly that I should. So here it is. Not Beta-ed because I'm weird like that. And I realize Spock probably wouldn't wear real fur, but he kills people for Jim (which is like the biggest no-no in Vulcan philosophy) so I don't think it's that far of a stretch that he would wear it if Jim gives them to him as a gift.
I eye the wrapped box that sits in my hands. It is roughly 22.5cm long, 14cm wide and 4.8cm high. Its wrapping is blue and it has green ribbon tied around it with a small bow on top. It is 113.5 grams in weight.
I look at Jim, who is beaming at me, which distracts me momentarily from my question. “What is the purpose for giving me a gift?”
“Well, it was supposed to be a birthday present, but your birthday’s in, what? 30 days?”
“26.67 days.”
His grin grows slightly. He always seems amused by my precision. “Right, in 26.67 days. I figured I’d give it to you a bit early since you could use them today.”
I frown. “Given your last metaphysical and superstitious gifts, I cannot presume that this gift will be very useful.”
“Just open it.”
I pause before undoing the ribbon. Careful not to rip the paper, I peel back the glued tabs on one side of the present. I slide the box out of the wrapping. It is a simple brown paper box. I take off the lid. I raise an eyebrow and lift out a pair of black leather gloves lined with a brown fur that is very soft to the touch.
“I figured you normally get cold sometimes on away missions so you could use some gloves.”
I give a small nod and suddenly feel a growing sense of gratitude that he would think of my well-being. “Where did you buy them?”
“I got them a couple of months ago on Argelius II.”
I look at him suspiciously. The inhabitants of Argelius II are very hedonistic people who value pleasures so highly that they hire aliens to be their administrating officials because no native wishes to do the jobs themselves. “Are these gloves claimed to have any properties? Perhaps the leather is supposed to promote a healthy libido?”
Jim laughs. “No, no. They’re just gloves. They did have a lot of oils and lotions that were supposed to heighten sexual gratification, but I figure I’m stimulating enough, and I don’t need my First Officer going into a coma from overwhelming pleasure every time we have sex,” he says with a sly smirk.
I raise an eyebrow. “Indeed,” I agree simply, causing him to laugh. Stroking his ego gives him about as much pleasure as stroking other pieces of his being. “Then I thank you.”
He leans to kiss be but my room’s comm. whistles. He sighs and pulls away. I answer. “Spock here.”
“Kirk. Sickbay. Now. Or you’re grounded.” Dr. McCoy’s agitated voice suddenly comes through loudly before cutting the connection.
“What am I, five?” Jim grumbles. “How can he ground me in space from going to the ground?”
I have never heard the expression of ‘grounding’ someone, and although I can deduce the meaning, I do not know how to respond to his question so I ignore it. “You need the inoculation against native diseases and stimulants against hypothermia. You cannot avoid it. I suggest you do not delay your arrival to Sickbay before Dr. McCoy proceeds with his… threat.”
“Yeah,” he groans. He pecks me on the cheek. “I’ll see ya in the transporter room.”
--//-//--
Vulcan’s are not known to grit their teeth. Gritting ones teeth is caused by emotions. Vulcans do not feel emotions; therefore, they have no compulsion to commit this act. I however have found myself gritting my teeth on many various occasions since joining Starfleet and especially since I became the First Office of Captain Kirk. In order to keep my emotional resolve when faced with his brash, outlandish and often incredulous actions, I have found myself clenching my jaw to prevent me from bursting in anger and smacking him forcibly in the back of the head. I have made a conscious effort to lessen the frequency of gritting in order to prevent the enamel of my teeth from being worn down.
I still involuntarily grit my teeth in diplomatic situations. While (most of) the personnel of the Enterprise are aware of and respect my personal boundaries, it is rarely the case when we meet with dignitaries on new planets. As to not offend, I have made it habit to meditate for as long as possible before hand, strengthening my mental shields against the onslaught of emotions that will be transmitted to me through touch. If the customs of the native people center on excessive touching, I will often not attend. But only if I trust the Captain to refrain from causing an incident. My trust in this is more often than one would initially expect.
Iota II is an icy Class M planet on the edge of the Alpha quadrant. The natives call themselves Glohrns. They discovered warp drive half a century ago, to which shortly after, First Contact was made. Today, we were sent by the Federation to negotiate their joining as well and receiving mining rights to the planet. Pergium is a rare but essential element used by many worlds as a power source for nuclear reactors. The admittance of Iota II is considered Top Priority.
The Glohrns, thick-haired humanoids with large girths, are a very tactile people. It is said to have adapted from their climate being extremely cold most of their year. Platonic sharing of body heat is customary during their long winters. Much of their communication is conveyed through touches. One of their most frequent contacts is through hands. Holding and shaking of the hands is viewed as a sign of trust and friendliness. Usually I would never have considered beaming down to this planet. I would be completely unable to hold up my mental shields if I needed to hold hands will multiple people. However, this is with skin-to-skin contact. Because Iota II is so frigid, we will be wearing heavy clothing, including gloves, and the cloth will greatly dull any emotional transference. Therefore, I saw no reason to not attend the diplomatic negotiations on Iota II. The leather of the gloves Jim gave me would serve to eliminate and transference.
I find myself, however, in a different predicament.
This was not something I had anticipated. I had never worn fur-lined gloved before. I admit the fur had felt pleasant to the touch when I first examined them, but I never anticipated the strong effect it would have when my whole hand was wrapped in the soft pelt. Perhaps it was my mistake to wait until we were standing on the transporter pad to put them on. When we beamed down and I shook the hand of High Priest Yulep, the effect was immediate.
When he firmly gripped my hand, the fur brushed and the sensation hit me as if I had been kicked in the stomach. All of my muscles tensed. My skin tingled and a shiver ran down my back. My mind was momentarily clouded with arousal. I bit my tongue to prevent a groan from passing through my lips.
It was not until he released my hand that my mind cleared and I was able to catalogue my reaction. My heartbeat increased had increase. My breathing became heavy and slightly ragged. I could feel my genitals becoming engorged with blood. My tension went unnoticed by everyone except Jim, who gave me a slightly quizzical look.
I am immensely grateful that I am wearing thick clothing.
Initially, I believed that a strong emotional transference had occurred. I may be wearing gloves, but if the Glohrns were also strong touch telepaths, there would be little dulling effect. I had neglected to reinforce my mental shields; I did not believe it would be a necessity. I also had not performed my usual meditations the night before due to Jim… distracting me. However, a quick check found that my mental shields are still intact. I clenched my hands slightly and found my body giving the same reaction, if somewhat lessened. My eyes widened slightly. The gloves.
“It is an honor that your Federation would take such interest in our humble planet,” Priest Yulep grinned, taking both of Jim’s hands and bowing.
The Captain bows as well. “We appreciate you allowing us to learn from you.” The line is rehearsed but the grin is genuine.
I find myself staring at their joined hands and a strange sensation rolls over me. I soon identify it as a combination of jealousy and annoyance.
“Yes, I am sure we will learn much from your party as well.” Yulep releases one hand but continues to grasp the other. “Come, Captain. We have prepared a welcoming meal. We may become more acquainted there.” He leads Jim by the hand out of the courtyard and inside the main building. The look on his face shows he is attempting not to laugh. He expressed earlier this humor with their custom of handholding.
Reith, a shapely woman that was introduced as Yulep’s wife, offers her hand to escort me. I hesitate, but manage to hide my reluctance by giving a short nod of my head. She clasps my hand firmly and feelings of arousal spike through me as my muscles constrict once more. I feel my erection strain. I suppress a moan as she guides me inside.
I find myself contemplating that it is very befitting that these gloves are from Argelius II.
--//-//--
Most dignitaries we have spoken with are easily offended and if their customs are not followed carefully and precisely, they may refuse to negotiate or demand another representative, usually with some form of mandatory compensation for any past indignities. It was not until Jim mentioned it once in an annoyed mumble that I suddenly acknowledge how strange, and rather hypocritical, it is that they demand our understanding of and adherence to their customs and societal etiquette, yet feel no need to learn or recognize our own. Jim describes the reason for this phenomenon as a ‘home field advantage’.
The Glohrns, thankfully, are one of the more accommodating and understanding species that we have negotiated with. They freely, and seem very happy to, explain their customs and traditions with no antagonism. They will also often make inquiries as to our own societal standards. I do not believe that they recognize me as a separate alien race from the humans of our landing party. Indeed, there are actually few differences in appearance between humans and Vulcans. I do not correct their conclusion; their ignorance prevents me from being asked questions of my own race’s decorum and being the center of much attention.
I am grateful for this, as I currently find myself operating on autopilot. It is the only way I can control my mental shields. A lifetime of Vulcan discipline and I am struggling to keep my emotions bottled.
When speaking, it is customary to hold the hand of the person you are directly talking to. If one is talking to a large number of people, you hold a hand from the two highest-ranking individuals. If you pass items, you pass with one hand and shake with the other. In an attempt to keep hand grasping to a minimum, this has by far become my lowest participation in negotiations by a large margin. I only speak when asked, prompted or if I believe there is information or an idea that I should contribute.
My body is starting to ache with the continuous muscle constriction when I stiffen my body to suppress shivering or moaning. My erection has not lessened since the first handshake. My hands are beginning to become over-stimulated and are more sensitive than they were initially; now even the barest stroke of fur sends need throughout my body.
I find my attention to be directed at Jim a majority of the time, which is not unusual. I normally watch him as my Captain to make sure he is following decorum. Now, however, I look at him as my bondmate. My arousal has focused on my lover.
Thankfully his thick clothing obscures his form, but his handsome face is visible, causing images of it in the throws of passion to appear in my mind. When he breathes out and a puff of white air mushrooms from his mouth, I can feel his hot, moist breath against my skin. His voice rings in the halls and in my head, and I can hear him whisper endearments near my ear. His appendages move as he speaks, his ideas and thoughts animated by his body, and I can feel his weight on me, his calloused hands exploring my skin.
I look away to edit the mining agreement contract on my PADD.
I have, somehow, managed to keep all of this from drifting over to Jim through our connection. I am close to, if not fully, compromised; I do not wish to distract him as well. With the First Officer out of commission, it would be dire to extend such a… an affliction to the Captain. He still knows that something is bothering me with only physical cues, which I am surprised. It shows how well he knows me that he can detect my attitude without help from our connection. I can easily derive his emotions because he freely shows them; I show a stoic face and yet he still knows. It is slightly daunting to me, but I am not in the right mind to analyze it.
“Mr. Spock, can I speak with you?”
I turn to see Jim standing behind me, frowning slightly at his PADD. I stare at his pouting lips for a long moment, suppressing a tremble. “Of course, Captain.”
Jim sets his PADD down. I do the same and follow him out of the room. We travel far down the hall until we come to an empty discussion chamber. Once we both enter, I turn to close the door but quickly stop before I reach the handle. I glance down to my gloved hands. I decide to leave the door where it is and drop my arms to my sides. I turn to approach him.
He looks at me concerned. “You ok? You look more flushed than usual.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that why you wished to speak to me?”
“What? No it isn’t actually, but you just look a little ill.” He frowns. “Is the cold getting to you? I’m sure I can excuse you if you want to go back to the Enterprise and warm up. These people are pretty understanding, and I don’t want you getting hypothermia.”
I consider taking his offer, but I know diplomacy is not Jim’s forte and it would be difficult without me, especially since I complete most of the paperwork. I could have another sent down, but I am far more efficient, causing negotiations to be completed faster, which is always Jim’s main goal whether they end in our favor or not. I consider beaming up, getting another stimulant from Dr. McCoy and, before I beam back down, meditating for half an hour and switching to another pair of gloves. Yet if Jim would notice my switch… He was extremely proud to give me these gloves, I do not want to make him upset.
I give an internal sigh. “No. I thank you for your concern but I am not ill.”
He looks at me thoughtfully. “Is it the handholding?”
I stare at him for a long moment. I take in the red flush of his cheeks and the pink of his lips. His blond hair blends into the brown of the fur lining of his hood. His blue eyes are emphasized by the light blue, ice décor. The cold makes Jim look extremely exotic. My heart rate increases and my arousal spikes for a moment before I suddenly snap back to awareness. What had he asked?
“I will confess the contact is becoming slightly overwhelming,” it is certainly not a lie, “but I believe I am capable of finishing the proceedings.”
“You’re sure?”
I attempt to steady myself before suddenly blurting out. “Quite. I would prefer to be present if you cause another incident.”
He frowns. “I’m not that horrible. I doubt these people could be offended even if I tried.”
“Please do not,” I quickly say. “Knowing your rate of success, I am certain that you would succeed.”
He grins at me, and that is more than I can take.
I would like to say that it was a logical action. The most logical way to let go of some of the sexual tension built up in my system would be to release some of it. But when I back him against the wall, capturing his lips and invading his mouth that had opened in surprise, it only causes the pressure to build. My gloved hands are placed on the wall on either side of his shoulders. My fingers twitch and cause a small tingle to travel through my body once more.
I leave his lips, which seem strangely warm because of the frigid air, and move to quickly kiss up his jaw line. The fur of his hood brushes against my face.
“Spock, what-” he begins to say, but I find the sensitive area where his jaw and ear meet and lick it, causing his voice to break.
Jim is even more intoxicating closer. His skin is soft against my lips. It tastes deliciously salty from a thin layer of sweat attempting to cool his body in his warm clothing. Even through the layers I can feel his body heat seep into mine. I breathe in deeply. His musk fills my nostrils and causes me to close my eyes, allowing my sense of smell to be heightened. I hear his breath become ragged. His hands grip my jacket and I can feel him pull me closer. I oblige and lean into him further, causing a groan to escape his lips. My shields are completely gone. My arousal is pouring into him, amplifying it. He seems entirely overwhelmed. He normally reacts to my sexual invitations aggressively and with fervor, but the sudden bombardment of my over-stimulated mind seems to have caught him off guard. He is almost dazed.
“I believe you had an inquiry?” I ask against his neck, my voice rough and low.
“Wha?” he asks meekly.
“There was something you had to discuss.”
“Oh. Right. Schedule,” he says slowly. He pauses for a long moment before muttering, “S’not important.”
My lips travel down his neck until I reach cloth blocking his skin. I remove my hands from the wall and start to unbutton his jacket. The fur brushes my fingertips and I inadvertently thrust my hips into his.
“Spock,” he gasps hoarsely.
As I proceed to the second button, my sensitive ears suddenly hear over his heavy breathing a distant door open and footsteps. My eyes widen and I suddenly step back from the wall, bringing him with me. I quickly let go and step back to create some distance between us. I flatten my jacket, ignoring the stimulation, and place my hands at my sides. It takes me much less time to successfully rebuild my mental shields than I thought it would.
Jim looks at me incredulously and confused, looking to have recovered his cognitive abilities with the absence of my influence. “What?” is all he manages to say.
“Now is not the time, Captain,” I say quickly, looking away.
He looks at me angrily. “You’re kidding right? You can’t just slam me against a wall and start me up, then stop abruptly. How am I supposed to go through this diplomatic meeting with a hard-on?”
I shoot him a sharp glare, filled with irritation I cannot suppress.
He looks at me wide eyed and closes his mouth, getting the implication that to press it any further would be ill advised for the sake of his health.
I suddenly feel very resentful. If I have to go through this mission with such an affliction, he might as well also. He is the cause, after all.
Priest Yulep peeks through the open door with a look of concern on his face. We both straighten to our formal postures. He looks hesitantly between us. “Captain Kirk, I hope there is not a problem?” he says, not attempting to grab either of our hands.
Jim opens his mouth to reply but cannot seem to think of one. I seemed to have quite successfully diverted his blood away from his brain to lower anatomy. Anatomy I have an uncontrollable urge to grab at this very moment.
“Of course not,” I say in his place. “The captain merely wished to discuss the rest of today’s schedule. You and your people are much more hospitable and willing to compromise than we had anticipated. We wished to arrange the schedule to facilitate a quick and successful talk.”
“Ah,” the priest smiled. “I see. Would you like more time to confer?”
Jim smiles, though it was slightly forced. “No, I believe we are finished.”
The priest’s smile widens and he holds out his hand for the captain who shoots me a glance that tells me this is going to be discussed later. He walks forward and takes the offered hand, allowing himself to be lead back to the conference room.
I see the priest give Jim’s hand a squeeze. I some how manage to suppress a low growl from escaping my throat. I clench my hands to fists and give a quick, shocked inhale as the sensation rips through me and causes my erection to strain once again.
I do not believe in deities, but as I follow, I pray this mission does not last much longer.
--//-//--
I do not remember quite how the negotiations ended. I assume for the better, as I think I recall everyone, both the natives and crew, was smiling when we stood at the transporter point. I am not completely certain. Which is troublesome, but not surprising, as I had been chanting Vulcan mantras in my head for the last… hour or so. My internal clock had been one of the first things to go.
I had to restrain myself from bolting out of the transporter room when we materialized back onto the Enterprise. Instead, I… walked with purpose. I could hear Jim giving rushed orders to the crewmen awaiting our return before quickly following after me. I refused to look at him in the turbo lift or during the walk towards the officers’ quarters. I needed to wait; I did not wish to be interrupted. I punch in the code to his quarters without asking for consent.
As soon as the doors close behind us, I grab his jacket and pull him in for a hard kiss. My grip sends sparks through my body and only makes the kiss more urgent. Jim seems to be expecting it this time and reciprocates with equal intensity. I suck on his tongue and faintly taste the aquatic animal meat that had been offered planet side by the priest. If it sickens my stomach, I do not notice. I quickly back him to the bed and push him down. He looks as if he is going to ask a question, but I stop it with my tongue before it can leave his mouth.
I fumble with his jacket and the under layers of his clothing, the gloves causing me to moan and begin to loose concentration. After another moment of attempting to rid him of his clothing by undoing the clasps, I loose my patience and rip open first the inner jacket, then his uniform and under shirts. I swallow Jim’s surprised grunt before pulling back to sit on his hips.
I fling the gloves off and roughly caress his warm, smooth chest with my newly naked hands. The contact slams us with each other’s arousal through our bond and causes both of us to gasp.
Jim grabs the back of my neck and crashes our mouths together once again. Although I whimper at the loss, I take my hands away and tear off my own clothing. It only takes another moment before we have both divested ourselves of all of our clothing.
Jim pulls me further onto the bed and rolls us over, positioning himself between my legs. He trails his fingers down my chest to my stomach to my thigh, purposefully not touching my swollen cock. He smirks at me. “How long have you had this?”
It is straining and I am so close already I can barely endure it. I reach my hand to stroke myself by he bats it away. “Jim,” I hear myself plead, but I am too far-gone to care for my Vulcan pride.
He grabs my thighs and spreads them further apart causing me to squirm slightly. “I wonder how little stimulation I can give you before you come. Probably not much.” He bends down low and heaves a hot, moist breath on the shaft.
I hear a whimper that I assume comes from me. I feel another gust of breath against the head. I gasp and shudder against the sensation, gripping the sheets. I feel a small spurt against my stomach.
“Wow,” he says surprised, drawing back slightly. “I’m good, great, amazing actually, but I’ve never even seen that happen before.”
“Jim, do not tease me.” Each time I am pushed to the edge but I cannot seem to make it over.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Jim murmurs, kissing my stomach. He looks up at me, smiling. “You’ve had this quite a while, haven’t you? Since before you tried to hump me against that wall.” He kisses the inside of my thigh, causing my breath to hitch. “You were such a good boy at the negotiations,” he kisses at the junction of my thigh and leg, “waiting.” He kisses at the base of my penis. “What got you so turned on?”
“Jim!” I snap angrily.
“That’s what I thought,” he smirks devilishly before giving a fast, long, full lick to the underside of my cock from the base to the tip.
I clench my eyes shut. I bite down on my wrist to stop me from shouting out as my back arches and I am hit with a strong orgasm that tears through my body and to every nerve. My abdomen is soon covered with my semen. As my climax begins its ride down, all of the muscles in my body completely relax for the first time since beaming down.
I look up at Jim, who hovers over me. He wears a wide grin on his face as he stares down at me lying wanton on the sheets. “Fuck, do you have any idea how beautiful and awesome that was?”
I suddenly catch the scent of my lover as he leans down over me. Lust flares in me again. I put my arms around his neck and pull him down to crash our mouths together again. He happily kisses back. His smooth tongue rubs against mine as I explore his mouth.
Without breaking the kiss, Jim reaches over and grabs the lubricant from the drawer in the bedside table. He covers his fingers and rubs them together to warm the liquid. It takes barely any preparation time before my muscles are relaxed. He mutters praise against my lips for my Vulcan muscle control as he lubricates his cock before positioning himself at my entrance.
“No,” I say as I grab his shoulders and shove him to lie on his back. I straddle his hips and look down at him.
He is flushed, smirking up at me. “Man, something’s got into you.”
“No,” I murmur, still breathless. I lean down. “But something will be.”
He laughs. “Fuck, Spock.”
“Yes, that is the idea.” I reach down and grab his cock, giving a strong stroke.
His smirk widens. “You call me a tease.”
I position his tip on the relaxed muscle and begin to slide down. As soon as the head is through, I lose my patience, desperate to be full, and slam down quickly so that I am fully penetrated.
He gasps and grips my thighs.
This is rarely a position we utilize, as I am quite content with him taking the lead, so it takes me a few moments before I find the correct angle. Pleasure suddenly rips though me as the tip of his cock hits my prostate. Gripping my hands tight on his shoulders, I begin to bounce in a quick pace with Jim beginning to meet with a shallow, involuntary thrust up. I soon speed up, slamming down and causing the sound of our flesh hitting to fill the room.
I lean down and roughly capture Jim’s mouth again. It is partly kissing, partly swallowing each other’s pants, and partly breathing each other’s air.
After a while, I feel my strength begin to give out. My rhythm becomes slow and erratic until I finally stop, only able to rock slightly now. I break the kiss and move my face to the crook of his neck. I take deep breaths, surrounding myself with Jim’s musk. My Vulcan stamina normally lasts much longer than this. I should not be this tired yet. It takes me a moment to realize. I had been tense throughout the negotiations in order to keep my arousal in check; my muscles had been constricted throughout the time I wore the gloves. I did not realize how much energy it had taken.
He licks the shell of my ear, a hot breath filling it, and I exhale sharply. “Aw, you aren’t gettin’ tired on me now, are you?” Jim whispers against my ear, his cool hands travel from my thighs to my hips. He suddenly thrusts up strongly and I give a small shout in surprise.
He removes his hands from my sides, causing a disapproving groan from me. He uses his arms to push himself up to a sitting position, bringing me up with him.
I put my arms around him. My grip on his neck slips on a sheen of sweat. I can feel the muscles in his back shift under his skin as he lifts me up and slams me down, impaling me deep each time. His arms flex each time he raises me. His rough hands, warmed by my skin, firmly grip the curve of my ass. I can still feel a dull burn in my thighs and back from when I had been the one riding him.
Our chests are flushed against each other. I can feel my newly hardened erection rubbing against his stomach, slick from the semen of my previous release. With each lift, I’ve begun to let out a small moan.
I can feel his tip nudge just to the side of my prostate. My head falls back. “Jim, please.”
I could feel him smile on my neck near my Adam’s apple. “Tell me what you want, babe,” he murmurs against my skin. His hot breath causes my own to hitch in my throat.
“You,” I pant, “you are… are not hitting, ah! Hitting it.”
“Oh?” His voice is low and rough and filled with lust. “You’re gonna have to tell me where I need to go, babe.”
He is teasing me. While Vulcan prostates are placed slightly different than a human’s, Jim has full knowledge of where mine is through learned practice. He wants me to ask for it. My pride always prevents me from giving into him right away. Sometimes, if I hold out long enough, Jim will bring himself close to completion before I say it, to which he gives up and fucks me in earnest. Usually, however, my resolve will give out and I will have to beg because I cannot wait.
But I am far too impatient to play his game today. I grab the back of his hair and jerk his head back. He drops me back down and stills. He looks at me with surprise before a smirk covers his face.
“Hit it,” I growl.
He obediently slams into it directly and I shout, tightening my grip on his shoulders. He demonstrates the well-practiced skill he enjoys bragging about as he hits it each time from then on. My pleasure builds quickly, faster than I had ever felt before. My mind goes blank. My vision goes pure white as my eyes roll back into the head. I think I hear myself grunting with each slam, but I can’t be sure.
My climax hits me in successive, unrelenting waves and I throw my head back in a silent scream. I constrict around him. He thrusts a few more times before I hear him yell and soon feel the strange warmth that means he has climaxed as well. My muscles begin to give out and I feel myself begin to fall backwards onto the bed. Jim’s arms wrap around me tighter and pull me against him; my seed smears against both our bodies. He carefully lifts me once again and pulls out before setting me back down on his lap.
I drape my arms around his neck and put his lips to mine. It is gentle and slow and sweet, a quiet postlude to the high passion of the sex that just occurred. We both collapse sideways onto the bed, our legs tangled and our heads missing the pillows.
“Are you gonna let me know what brought that on?” His voice is hoarse and winded, still filled with the aftermath of arousal.
It takes me a few deep breaths before I manage to respond. “No. I do not think I wish to tell you.”
He grins, his sweaty forehead pressed against mine. “Is this gonna happen again?”
I think of the gloves he gave me, of the fur lining, of his face at orgasm, of the likelihood of visiting another ice planet. “Probably,” is all I can manage to say.