[I Dream a Dream] -- [Kirk and TOS!Spock]
(OOC: Warnings! Non-con/dub-con involved in this dream. It probably is absolutely nothing like what you think it will be.)
Slowly he leaned back in his chair, frowning. Where was he? His eyes scanned the room, trying to place it. It was ringing bells in his head as being familiar, but nothing was immediately coming to mind. He looked down and ran his hand over the smooth wood, feeling the tiny marks gouged into it by others. There was a shifting noise beside him and he turned his head, blinking at the sight of a person that was both immediately familiar but a complete strange - a name on the tip of his tongue. Grabbing the back of the chair he was in, he turned and got a 360 degree view of the area.
A classroom. He was sitting in the back of a classroom, tucked into a desk, listening to the distant droning of a teacher. How did I get here...?
The sound of a bell rang distantly and the bodies around him gathered books and PADDs and other supplies in the typical rush for the exit. "Mr. Kirk. If you would please remain." Mr. Kirk? No one's called me that in my whole damn life. Kirk thought to himself, turning back and focusing ahead. He blinked when he realized he recognized the teacher in the front of the classroom tucked into the straight, formal instructors uniform. Another quick look around - this wasn't the academy.
"...sir?" The word fell from his lips before he could stop it, like he couldn't control what he was even saying.
The classroom emptied. Spock did not respond immediately to Jim's question, waited instead until they were alone. "Mr. Kirk. You have been a consistent source of classroom disruption since the beginning of the term."
"Just because I have my own opinions, teach, doesn't mean I'm disrupting things." Kirk couldn't help but snap. It brought confusion to him though. ...Don't get it, I was always good in school... It was like watching a movie instead of fully being there, except he could feel everything, hear everything, see everything. Just couldn't fully control his own motions.
A single sharp eyebrow rose. "Your own opinions, yes. Your classmates are regularly subjected to them when their time would be better spent preparing for the test you will have tomorrow. A test which, I have calculated the odds, which you shall almost certainly fail, ensuring your failure of this class."
The hell!? I've never failed a test in my life! Kirk tried to spit defensively, but it refused to come out. "Your odds are wrong, then. You just don't want to admit that the student you hate could do well in your class."
Spock approached Kirk slowly. He stopped a foot away and looked down at Kirk, a classic display of dominance. "You believe that I hate you? Fascinating." His gaze flickered to the still open door. "Accompany me to my office, Mr. Kirk. I believe there is value in continuing this discussion."
"Great, I'm glad you do, because I sure as hell don't." Kirk glared at the Vulcan, but stood up anyway. He shoved materials haphazardly into a bag that had been sitting on the floor, then threw it over his shoulder, fully intending to leave the classroom and to hell with his teacher. But when Spock turned left after exiting the classroom, Jim turned with him, trailing with a certain defiant attitude yet still present. Spock led him to a small office set apart from the other teachers' offices. Impeccably neat, full of books and the occasional strange object of obvious off-world origin. Spock held the door for Jim and then, when the younger man had entered, locked it behind them. Kirk eyed the door with an intrepid glance, then focused on Spock. He could out wait the Vulcan if he needed to, or he'd unlock that damn door and leave.
Spock brushed against Jim, the barest contact, and moved behind his desk. He did not sit, however. "Mr. Kirk, you are an intelligent young man. However, you seem determined to... sabotage yourself through your lack of discipline."
"Will you stop calling me Mr. Kirk? Jim. James if you have to, but dammit not Mr. Kirk." Kirk growled a little, hating every second of this. He remained standing, a hand gripping the strap of his bag tightly. All in all, he resembled a caged tiger. "If you're going to give me the speech about straightening up and flying right, I've heard it before. Can I go now?"
"I begin to regret the outlaw of corporal punishment." Spock's voice was low and there was something happening with his tone, something Jim had never heard in the classroom. "I will not make speeches... Jim." A concession. "However, if I must, I will provide a more practical demonstration."
This was putting Kirk on edge more and more by the second. "I don't know what's going on in that pointy-eared head of yours, teach, but if you think I'm just going to stand here and let you threaten me..." Spock wouldn't threaten me. Not this. What the hell is wrong with me? Just leave the room, dammit!
Then, out of no where, the Vulcan was around the desk and bending him over the desk before he even realized Spock was moving. He struggled, but though Spock did not appear to be much larger in size (Larger? I'm taller then Spock, what the fuck?), every bit of that Vulcan strength was coming into play. He was all too easily being held down by one arm across his back, and he watched from the corner of his eye as Spock reached over and slid open a drawer. "A more practical demonstration of discipline, I said. Perhaps you are capable of learning from this."
Kirk's eyes went wide with that, and he twisted on the desk. "You can't be serious. Let me the fuck up right now!" Kirk may as well have been silent for all the attention Spock paid to his protest. The pale hand withdrew something from the drawer, held the item for Kirk to see clearly. An old-fashioned, obviously worn wooden paddle. Kirk's stomach dropped somewhere to the vicinity of the basement of the building. "You can't. Its illegal to do this, let me up and I won't even say anything about this!" I'm not afraid. I can't be. Spock wouldn't hurt me, why is he doing this? Fuck I can't move!
"Your accusation would not be accepted as truth in any event, Jim." Spock was leaning over Kirk's back now, whispering in Kirk's very human ear. The hot breath tickled the side of his neck. Spock straightened, rubbed the wooden paddle across his ass and the backs of his thighs, a teasing motion. It made Kirk tremble, breath hitching, eyes wide, even as his words kept up his bravado.
"I'll fucking make sure they hear it as truth. Let me the fuck GO!" Oh, he was struggling with every bit of himself, losing his breath as the pressure on his arm increased and forced his diaphragm harder against the edge of the desk. Spock pressed against the struggling form, long enough for Kirk to register Spock's erection. Then a crack sounded in the small room as he tested the paddle on Kirk's ass. It felt like a dull flare of pain, but thankfully the sharpness of it was killed by the protective thickness of denim. Kirk snarled with the hit, trying to grab any part of Spock with his free hand. Flip the bastard off me...!
"Hmmmm. Inadequate." Spock was not satisfied, the tone of his voice said it all, that he would not be until the insolent student thrown across his desk understood one thing: Spock was not to be disobeyed. Ignoring the feeble human struggles, he leaned over Kirk's body again, pushing him more firmly against the desk before hitching Jim's hips backwards, just enough room to reach around and deal with the man's button fly. Every bit of Kirk's body froze in place with that, a fear every man would feel in this situation no matter who they were. Unable to grasp enough to get leverage to flip Spock off of him, unable to writhe free of the inhuman grip on his arm that was making it go swiftly numb, and not knowing intensions...
"You sick fucker get off me!" There was not a shrillness in his voice. He would deny it. James Kirk did not sound afraid, ever. (Spock wouldn't...!) Jeans and underwear were shoved to Kirk's thighs. The wood of the paddle was pressed against Jim's naked ass, then the edge of the paddle was stroked in the cleft of it. Kirk's breathing was near panting, eyes closing. His fingers on his free hand were gripping at the desk and he could not longer feel his other arm at all. He gave a sharp kick out, fighting til the end, catching Spock in the shin with the thin sole of sneakers (Sneakers? Boots, should be boots...)
That bit of feistiness earned Jim a chuckle (What the fuck, Spock doesn't laugh...) before the sudden shock of a much firmer stroke of the paddle. "Count, Jim."
It hurt, but briefly. It sent blazing fire that stopped in intensity a split second later and turned to warmth. "FUCK!" Kirk snapped, more out of pure indignation then the short lived pain. "No fucking way!"
A warm, oddly smooth palm cupped his right ass cheek then was gone, soon replaced by another sharp stroke. "If you do not count, Jim, I will lose count."
A frustrated sound poured out of Kirk's throat and he gripped the desk harder, "Not-- not going to keep count for you." He growled out, "Fucking Vulcan bastard!"
The next stroke was harder. "It is inadvisable to offer insult to my mother." Then the gentle hand again, soothing the swiftly reddening flesh.
"Don't give a shit about your mother." Kirk panted, tilting his head and trying to see Spock's face from the corner of his eye. "Let. Me. Up." Paddling, he could deal with it. He had worse. The worse showed on his body, if one knew where to look.
"You are not required to. And I shall not." The rhythm was slow. A hard crack of the paddle, then a hand smoothing across the burn. "Count, Jim." The hand was in direct counterpoint to the paddle, a subtle pleasure even in the midst of Jim's anger.
"No." But the voice was slightly less confident. The more the paddle hit, the worse the burn left behind was. He could deal with it, Kirk knew he could. The strikes were slow, but the boiling-temperature of the Vulcan's hand only made the burn worse.
The strokes themselves retained the same force and pace but now the hand lingered. "Why do you struggle against everything, Jim?"
"Because you're fucking holding me down over a desk spanking me!" Kirk snapped, his anger eating into the common sense that Spock was asking about greater things then the immediate moment.
The paddle was dropped onto the desk, the sound enough to make him jerk, just in Kirk's view but out of his reach. The next smack was from Spock's hand. Not as painful but hotter and somehow more intimate, a reminder of the games that lovers played together. "You are aware of the scope of my question."
Fuck, no. The paddle was better. Way better. The sting from flesh-on-flesh was much sharper like this, "You don't know... me at all." Kirk said through gritted teeth, lungs laboring to keep up with the trickling fear that was making his breathing speed up.
"I would like to know you better. Yet your lack of discipline is... frustrating." Spock's voice was low and kind of breathy.
He's turned on by this! (He's turned on by this...)
"You're the one who has one of your students bent over your desk, spanking them, getting off on it." Kirk snapped right back.
"And you are the one who has ceased to struggle." Spock denied nothing, simply traced lazy patterns with what felt like his finger nail on Kirk's ass, white lines of coolness fading quickly back to red of fire.
That made the human growl low, "I can't feel my arm and I can't get you off me." A protest against the concept of his ceasing in his struggles to get free.
The hand on his arm loosened, enough to restore the blood flow but not enough for him to escape. "You have done nothing I requested. Why would I abide by your request?"
"Because what you're doing is fucking illegal?" Kirk growled, but tried to get some logic back into the damn Vulcan's head. The spanking began again with that statement, interspersed with long gliding strokes of fingertips over hips and buttocks and back. Kirk twisted under each strike with faint sounds of pain, finally resulting in him burying his mouth against his free arm to hide the embarrassing sounds. It was really starting to hurt, the burn spreading to the point Kirk had to squeeze his eyes shut and bite down to keep from crying out. He wouldn't give in, wouldn't let this bastard win!
It was between strikes that his eyes snapped open and he realized that he was grinding down against the desk, trying to get away from the strikes, trying to get more friction. No..! "Illegal, perhaps," Spock finally responded, continuing the assault of spanking and stroking, "but highly effective. And... satisfying." He leaned down and licked a hot wet stripe up the side of Kirk's grinding ass.
Oh fuck. Kirk trembled with that, eyes closing tightly again. It was starting to stop hurting and almost feeling good, specially that lick... "Stop it." He whispered, always struggling, a beast too proud to be subdued but was slowly coming around to a stronger hand.
"You require discipline, Jim. It is only logical to supply it." The spanking increased in tempo, the soothing touch of Spock's hand coming more randomly, more palm sliding than fingertips tracing, more unexpected glides of Spock's tongue on the tender skin.
(He can feel how much this hurts, why isn't he stopping, I don't understand!) The pain wasn't brief anymore. It was aching through every part of him, straining in his lower back and thighs, his calves cramping. "STOP IT!" His captured arm was one giant cramp and he couldn't catch his breath.
And suddenly it did stop. The long fingers touched and prodded and traced the line of Kirk's ass. "Tell me how it feels. Tell me... politely."
"Burns." Kirk said thickly, eyes still shut tightly. His fingers tightened on the desk. He wanted to leave, wanted to slug his teacher in the jaw, but it all hurt. Down between his thighs, body drawn up tightly on itself and throbbing, up along the backs of crimson thighs, buttocks that would probably bruise.
"That is good." The skin under Spock's fingers would felt Vulcan hot, familiar yet still alien, still human. Spock pressed himself close, the Vulcan's arousal obvious against the over-sensitive redness, the instructor's uniform pants a rough rasp of wool. The feeling of the that hardness sent a bolt of fear through the human it was pressed against, and Kirk's nails scraped at the desk. Let me go. Let me go, please. He couldn't say the words aloud, couldn't force them past his lips which felt dry and thick.
Kirk was suddenly pulled upright, pressed with his back against Spock's body, an arm holding him across the hips, another angled across his upper body, gripping one shoulder. Strong now, controlling, but not cruel, the breath against his neck hot. A sound of pain left Kirk as his body, cramped from having been so tense in one position all that time, and he shook slightly, trying to suppress it all. His one arm hangs, one giant cramp and almost completely numb, and the other is clenched up tight. Spock only gave him a moment to recover, a minute to hope that he will be released. Then there was a bite to his earlobe, though not hard, and it made him snarl lightly.
"Stop it, Spock. P-..." The word wouldn't come. His eyes were still so tightly closed, his teeth gritting as if to keep the word in physically.
Vulcan hands roamed, under Kirk's shirt now, scratching across skin, pinching lightly at nipples which made Kirk gasp as the too-sensitive flesh went straight through him. "You do not really wish such a thing." But he did, didn't he? His body hurt, he hated Spock... so why was he so fucking hard? His lips moved, trying to say more, but failing. The gentle mouth was in direct contrast to the hot throb of Jim's ass. Hands roamed Jim's body, not asking permission, exploring where they wished to go with no regard for asking. He struggled against it, as much as he could with a cramped body (Should be able to fight, how strong is he, please Spock stop this!) and inhuman strength holding him in place. His arm is slowly becoming pure agony as pins and needles creep down his flesh, making him twitch in pain.
The pain of his arm was contrasted with the pleasure of Spock's hand trailing over his hard cock, involuntary nerve response feeding more sensation into his overwhelmed brain. The feeble struggles added friction to the slow grind of Spock's erection, pushing his lower half back into the desk - unforgiving wood at his front, unforgiving Vulcan at his back. It was fucking impossible, no way to get out. He knew what was coming, knew it was going to fucking kill him inside. Why was he hard? What was wrong with him? Why was his body enjoying this!? "Please." The word fell from his lips, piling guilt on himself for showing any sign of his fear at all.
"I shall please you. And you will... please me as well."
"...just let me go, sir." Oh fuck, fuck, he had fallen that far so quickly. (Why, why am I giving up?!)
Spock turned Kirk, lifted him and sat him on the desk, wood cool and almost soothing, a bare relief before Spock's mouth was descending, kissing, licking and pressing sweet lover's kisses at the edges of his mouth. "You do not truly wish to go or you would not have found your way here at all."
The sudden change from power and control to a lover's sweetness was worse then the spanking. Kirk's hands came up and shoved back at Spock's chest, but the shove was weak. "Don't you dare try to make this out like-- like I wanted all of this!"
"You would not have followed me if you did not." Kirk's protest was muzzled by Spock's mouth, taking up residence again. Licking tongue sliding in forcefully, just like Kirk liked, accompanied by hot hands tweaking his already sensitized nipples again.
That's a lie! I didn't know what you were gonna do! But his body was betraying him, nipples hardening, back arching as he leaned into it. He moaned quietly, his breath getting stolen away by the Vulcan's heat. Spock trailed kisses down Jim's neck, unbuttoning the wrinkled shirt to bare more skin for his tasting. Careful bites left red marks on Jim's chest, a claiming. (What am I wearing? Spock, this isn't you..) Kirk's hands came up and slid over Spock's shoulders, like he would shove the Vulcan back, but instead just rested there, gripping roughly at the solid muscle and angles of bone. Was Spock right? Did he want this? No, he'd protested, fought like the bull, but he... no. Excuses.
That seemed like some sort of signal to Spock. The Vulcan plundered Kirk's mouth like he had every right to be there. He pulled Kirk's pants further down his legs and touched, never stopped touching, every bit of skin that was revealed. It was probably the first time in his life he wished he hadn't gone commando. Those green-tinged hands felt like branding irons, searing the skin of his inner thighs, spreading them, displaying the fact a raging hard on. Kirk turned his head away, fingers tightening, nails biting into wool. The pleasure, however, was undeniable as Spock's mouth moved down Kirk's body, to swipe with lips and tongue at his urgent erection.
Too hot, too hot. It was burning, as much as his thighs and backside, but it was the kind of burning that made his hips jerk, hands moving to twist in black strands of hair. (Why aren't I running?!) "Sp-..." The beginning of his name fell but the rest was captured, eyes hazy and half-open as he looked down at his professor on his knees, tonging him like that.
Spock looked up for a moment. "Good students are rewarded instead of punished." He returned to his task, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked Kirk's cock deep.
"Oh fuck!" Kirk cried out, fingers tightening in the strands of hair they were holding. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his hips rocked forward, wanting more this is wrong needing more very, very wrong. The hot suction continued as Spock pulled almost all the way off, until just the head remained in his mouth, tongue pressing and fluttering at the underside before moving slowly, tortuously back down to the root. He couldn't last like this, with the mixture of heat and the teasing manner Spock was taking with this. Don't want to come, means he wins, fuck gonna, gonna, need to, fuckfuckfuck "FUCK!"
Spock's mouth was demanding and unrelenting, his hands working in concert to fondle Kirk's balls, press at his asshole with teasing fingertip, scratch at his inner thighs. It was turning Kirk into a mess, rocking his hips into that giving mouth, back onto the fingertip almost impaling himself on it, gaining more lines across his body. His lips were parted, eyes shut tightly as he felt his entire body clenching up. It was painful in its way, muscles too exhausted to want to do this but doing it all on instinct, but when he finally came it brought out an almost-scream, just a sound of exaltation as he released into the Vulcan's mouth, trembling with the strength of it. His mind blanked out completely except for white-colored hissing.
Spock swallowed, rode out the human's orgasm with gentling strokes of his tongue, then Spock stood and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his uniform shirt. He moved around to the back of his desk, sat in his chair and surveyed the weak and trembling youth still sprawled on the flat surface in front of him. "I suggest you go home and study, Mr. Kirk."
---------------------------------------------------
Kirk snapped awake, and into a nightmare.
Slowly he leaned back in his chair, frowning. Where was he? His eyes scanned the room, trying to place it. It was ringing bells in his head as being familiar, but nothing was immediately coming to mind. He looked down and ran his hand over the smooth wood, feeling the tiny marks gouged into it by others. There was a shifting noise beside him and he turned his head, blinking at the sight of a person that was both immediately familiar but a complete strange - a name on the tip of his tongue. Grabbing the back of the chair he was in, he turned and got a 360 degree view of the area.
A classroom. He was sitting in the back of a classroom, tucked into a desk, listening to the distant droning of a teacher. How did I get here...?
The sound of a bell rang distantly and the bodies around him gathered books and PADDs and other supplies in the typical rush for the exit. "Mr. Kirk. If you would please remain." Mr. Kirk? No one's called me that in my whole damn life. Kirk thought to himself, turning back and focusing ahead. He blinked when he realized he recognized the teacher in the front of the classroom tucked into the straight, formal instructors uniform. Another quick look around - this wasn't the academy.
"...sir?" The word fell from his lips before he could stop it, like he couldn't control what he was even saying.
The classroom emptied. Spock did not respond immediately to Jim's question, waited instead until they were alone. "Mr. Kirk. You have been a consistent source of classroom disruption since the beginning of the term."
"Just because I have my own opinions, teach, doesn't mean I'm disrupting things." Kirk couldn't help but snap. It brought confusion to him though. ...Don't get it, I was always good in school... It was like watching a movie instead of fully being there, except he could feel everything, hear everything, see everything. Just couldn't fully control his own motions.
A single sharp eyebrow rose. "Your own opinions, yes. Your classmates are regularly subjected to them when their time would be better spent preparing for the test you will have tomorrow. A test which, I have calculated the odds, which you shall almost certainly fail, ensuring your failure of this class."
The hell!? I've never failed a test in my life! Kirk tried to spit defensively, but it refused to come out. "Your odds are wrong, then. You just don't want to admit that the student you hate could do well in your class."
Spock approached Kirk slowly. He stopped a foot away and looked down at Kirk, a classic display of dominance. "You believe that I hate you? Fascinating." His gaze flickered to the still open door. "Accompany me to my office, Mr. Kirk. I believe there is value in continuing this discussion."
"Great, I'm glad you do, because I sure as hell don't." Kirk glared at the Vulcan, but stood up anyway. He shoved materials haphazardly into a bag that had been sitting on the floor, then threw it over his shoulder, fully intending to leave the classroom and to hell with his teacher. But when Spock turned left after exiting the classroom, Jim turned with him, trailing with a certain defiant attitude yet still present. Spock led him to a small office set apart from the other teachers' offices. Impeccably neat, full of books and the occasional strange object of obvious off-world origin. Spock held the door for Jim and then, when the younger man had entered, locked it behind them. Kirk eyed the door with an intrepid glance, then focused on Spock. He could out wait the Vulcan if he needed to, or he'd unlock that damn door and leave.
Spock brushed against Jim, the barest contact, and moved behind his desk. He did not sit, however. "Mr. Kirk, you are an intelligent young man. However, you seem determined to... sabotage yourself through your lack of discipline."
"Will you stop calling me Mr. Kirk? Jim. James if you have to, but dammit not Mr. Kirk." Kirk growled a little, hating every second of this. He remained standing, a hand gripping the strap of his bag tightly. All in all, he resembled a caged tiger. "If you're going to give me the speech about straightening up and flying right, I've heard it before. Can I go now?"
"I begin to regret the outlaw of corporal punishment." Spock's voice was low and there was something happening with his tone, something Jim had never heard in the classroom. "I will not make speeches... Jim." A concession. "However, if I must, I will provide a more practical demonstration."
This was putting Kirk on edge more and more by the second. "I don't know what's going on in that pointy-eared head of yours, teach, but if you think I'm just going to stand here and let you threaten me..." Spock wouldn't threaten me. Not this. What the hell is wrong with me? Just leave the room, dammit!
Then, out of no where, the Vulcan was around the desk and bending him over the desk before he even realized Spock was moving. He struggled, but though Spock did not appear to be much larger in size (Larger? I'm taller then Spock, what the fuck?), every bit of that Vulcan strength was coming into play. He was all too easily being held down by one arm across his back, and he watched from the corner of his eye as Spock reached over and slid open a drawer. "A more practical demonstration of discipline, I said. Perhaps you are capable of learning from this."
Kirk's eyes went wide with that, and he twisted on the desk. "You can't be serious. Let me the fuck up right now!" Kirk may as well have been silent for all the attention Spock paid to his protest. The pale hand withdrew something from the drawer, held the item for Kirk to see clearly. An old-fashioned, obviously worn wooden paddle. Kirk's stomach dropped somewhere to the vicinity of the basement of the building. "You can't. Its illegal to do this, let me up and I won't even say anything about this!" I'm not afraid. I can't be. Spock wouldn't hurt me, why is he doing this? Fuck I can't move!
"Your accusation would not be accepted as truth in any event, Jim." Spock was leaning over Kirk's back now, whispering in Kirk's very human ear. The hot breath tickled the side of his neck. Spock straightened, rubbed the wooden paddle across his ass and the backs of his thighs, a teasing motion. It made Kirk tremble, breath hitching, eyes wide, even as his words kept up his bravado.
"I'll fucking make sure they hear it as truth. Let me the fuck GO!" Oh, he was struggling with every bit of himself, losing his breath as the pressure on his arm increased and forced his diaphragm harder against the edge of the desk. Spock pressed against the struggling form, long enough for Kirk to register Spock's erection. Then a crack sounded in the small room as he tested the paddle on Kirk's ass. It felt like a dull flare of pain, but thankfully the sharpness of it was killed by the protective thickness of denim. Kirk snarled with the hit, trying to grab any part of Spock with his free hand. Flip the bastard off me...!
"Hmmmm. Inadequate." Spock was not satisfied, the tone of his voice said it all, that he would not be until the insolent student thrown across his desk understood one thing: Spock was not to be disobeyed. Ignoring the feeble human struggles, he leaned over Kirk's body again, pushing him more firmly against the desk before hitching Jim's hips backwards, just enough room to reach around and deal with the man's button fly. Every bit of Kirk's body froze in place with that, a fear every man would feel in this situation no matter who they were. Unable to grasp enough to get leverage to flip Spock off of him, unable to writhe free of the inhuman grip on his arm that was making it go swiftly numb, and not knowing intensions...
"You sick fucker get off me!" There was not a shrillness in his voice. He would deny it. James Kirk did not sound afraid, ever. (Spock wouldn't...!) Jeans and underwear were shoved to Kirk's thighs. The wood of the paddle was pressed against Jim's naked ass, then the edge of the paddle was stroked in the cleft of it. Kirk's breathing was near panting, eyes closing. His fingers on his free hand were gripping at the desk and he could not longer feel his other arm at all. He gave a sharp kick out, fighting til the end, catching Spock in the shin with the thin sole of sneakers (Sneakers? Boots, should be boots...)
That bit of feistiness earned Jim a chuckle (What the fuck, Spock doesn't laugh...) before the sudden shock of a much firmer stroke of the paddle. "Count, Jim."
It hurt, but briefly. It sent blazing fire that stopped in intensity a split second later and turned to warmth. "FUCK!" Kirk snapped, more out of pure indignation then the short lived pain. "No fucking way!"
A warm, oddly smooth palm cupped his right ass cheek then was gone, soon replaced by another sharp stroke. "If you do not count, Jim, I will lose count."
A frustrated sound poured out of Kirk's throat and he gripped the desk harder, "Not-- not going to keep count for you." He growled out, "Fucking Vulcan bastard!"
The next stroke was harder. "It is inadvisable to offer insult to my mother." Then the gentle hand again, soothing the swiftly reddening flesh.
"Don't give a shit about your mother." Kirk panted, tilting his head and trying to see Spock's face from the corner of his eye. "Let. Me. Up." Paddling, he could deal with it. He had worse. The worse showed on his body, if one knew where to look.
"You are not required to. And I shall not." The rhythm was slow. A hard crack of the paddle, then a hand smoothing across the burn. "Count, Jim." The hand was in direct counterpoint to the paddle, a subtle pleasure even in the midst of Jim's anger.
"No." But the voice was slightly less confident. The more the paddle hit, the worse the burn left behind was. He could deal with it, Kirk knew he could. The strikes were slow, but the boiling-temperature of the Vulcan's hand only made the burn worse.
The strokes themselves retained the same force and pace but now the hand lingered. "Why do you struggle against everything, Jim?"
"Because you're fucking holding me down over a desk spanking me!" Kirk snapped, his anger eating into the common sense that Spock was asking about greater things then the immediate moment.
The paddle was dropped onto the desk, the sound enough to make him jerk, just in Kirk's view but out of his reach. The next smack was from Spock's hand. Not as painful but hotter and somehow more intimate, a reminder of the games that lovers played together. "You are aware of the scope of my question."
Fuck, no. The paddle was better. Way better. The sting from flesh-on-flesh was much sharper like this, "You don't know... me at all." Kirk said through gritted teeth, lungs laboring to keep up with the trickling fear that was making his breathing speed up.
"I would like to know you better. Yet your lack of discipline is... frustrating." Spock's voice was low and kind of breathy.
He's turned on by this! (He's turned on by this...)
"You're the one who has one of your students bent over your desk, spanking them, getting off on it." Kirk snapped right back.
"And you are the one who has ceased to struggle." Spock denied nothing, simply traced lazy patterns with what felt like his finger nail on Kirk's ass, white lines of coolness fading quickly back to red of fire.
That made the human growl low, "I can't feel my arm and I can't get you off me." A protest against the concept of his ceasing in his struggles to get free.
The hand on his arm loosened, enough to restore the blood flow but not enough for him to escape. "You have done nothing I requested. Why would I abide by your request?"
"Because what you're doing is fucking illegal?" Kirk growled, but tried to get some logic back into the damn Vulcan's head. The spanking began again with that statement, interspersed with long gliding strokes of fingertips over hips and buttocks and back. Kirk twisted under each strike with faint sounds of pain, finally resulting in him burying his mouth against his free arm to hide the embarrassing sounds. It was really starting to hurt, the burn spreading to the point Kirk had to squeeze his eyes shut and bite down to keep from crying out. He wouldn't give in, wouldn't let this bastard win!
It was between strikes that his eyes snapped open and he realized that he was grinding down against the desk, trying to get away from the strikes, trying to get more friction. No..! "Illegal, perhaps," Spock finally responded, continuing the assault of spanking and stroking, "but highly effective. And... satisfying." He leaned down and licked a hot wet stripe up the side of Kirk's grinding ass.
Oh fuck. Kirk trembled with that, eyes closing tightly again. It was starting to stop hurting and almost feeling good, specially that lick... "Stop it." He whispered, always struggling, a beast too proud to be subdued but was slowly coming around to a stronger hand.
"You require discipline, Jim. It is only logical to supply it." The spanking increased in tempo, the soothing touch of Spock's hand coming more randomly, more palm sliding than fingertips tracing, more unexpected glides of Spock's tongue on the tender skin.
(He can feel how much this hurts, why isn't he stopping, I don't understand!) The pain wasn't brief anymore. It was aching through every part of him, straining in his lower back and thighs, his calves cramping. "STOP IT!" His captured arm was one giant cramp and he couldn't catch his breath.
And suddenly it did stop. The long fingers touched and prodded and traced the line of Kirk's ass. "Tell me how it feels. Tell me... politely."
"Burns." Kirk said thickly, eyes still shut tightly. His fingers tightened on the desk. He wanted to leave, wanted to slug his teacher in the jaw, but it all hurt. Down between his thighs, body drawn up tightly on itself and throbbing, up along the backs of crimson thighs, buttocks that would probably bruise.
"That is good." The skin under Spock's fingers would felt Vulcan hot, familiar yet still alien, still human. Spock pressed himself close, the Vulcan's arousal obvious against the over-sensitive redness, the instructor's uniform pants a rough rasp of wool. The feeling of the that hardness sent a bolt of fear through the human it was pressed against, and Kirk's nails scraped at the desk. Let me go. Let me go, please. He couldn't say the words aloud, couldn't force them past his lips which felt dry and thick.
Kirk was suddenly pulled upright, pressed with his back against Spock's body, an arm holding him across the hips, another angled across his upper body, gripping one shoulder. Strong now, controlling, but not cruel, the breath against his neck hot. A sound of pain left Kirk as his body, cramped from having been so tense in one position all that time, and he shook slightly, trying to suppress it all. His one arm hangs, one giant cramp and almost completely numb, and the other is clenched up tight. Spock only gave him a moment to recover, a minute to hope that he will be released. Then there was a bite to his earlobe, though not hard, and it made him snarl lightly.
"Stop it, Spock. P-..." The word wouldn't come. His eyes were still so tightly closed, his teeth gritting as if to keep the word in physically.
Vulcan hands roamed, under Kirk's shirt now, scratching across skin, pinching lightly at nipples which made Kirk gasp as the too-sensitive flesh went straight through him. "You do not really wish such a thing." But he did, didn't he? His body hurt, he hated Spock... so why was he so fucking hard? His lips moved, trying to say more, but failing. The gentle mouth was in direct contrast to the hot throb of Jim's ass. Hands roamed Jim's body, not asking permission, exploring where they wished to go with no regard for asking. He struggled against it, as much as he could with a cramped body (Should be able to fight, how strong is he, please Spock stop this!) and inhuman strength holding him in place. His arm is slowly becoming pure agony as pins and needles creep down his flesh, making him twitch in pain.
The pain of his arm was contrasted with the pleasure of Spock's hand trailing over his hard cock, involuntary nerve response feeding more sensation into his overwhelmed brain. The feeble struggles added friction to the slow grind of Spock's erection, pushing his lower half back into the desk - unforgiving wood at his front, unforgiving Vulcan at his back. It was fucking impossible, no way to get out. He knew what was coming, knew it was going to fucking kill him inside. Why was he hard? What was wrong with him? Why was his body enjoying this!? "Please." The word fell from his lips, piling guilt on himself for showing any sign of his fear at all.
"I shall please you. And you will... please me as well."
"...just let me go, sir." Oh fuck, fuck, he had fallen that far so quickly. (Why, why am I giving up?!)
Spock turned Kirk, lifted him and sat him on the desk, wood cool and almost soothing, a bare relief before Spock's mouth was descending, kissing, licking and pressing sweet lover's kisses at the edges of his mouth. "You do not truly wish to go or you would not have found your way here at all."
The sudden change from power and control to a lover's sweetness was worse then the spanking. Kirk's hands came up and shoved back at Spock's chest, but the shove was weak. "Don't you dare try to make this out like-- like I wanted all of this!"
"You would not have followed me if you did not." Kirk's protest was muzzled by Spock's mouth, taking up residence again. Licking tongue sliding in forcefully, just like Kirk liked, accompanied by hot hands tweaking his already sensitized nipples again.
That's a lie! I didn't know what you were gonna do! But his body was betraying him, nipples hardening, back arching as he leaned into it. He moaned quietly, his breath getting stolen away by the Vulcan's heat. Spock trailed kisses down Jim's neck, unbuttoning the wrinkled shirt to bare more skin for his tasting. Careful bites left red marks on Jim's chest, a claiming. (What am I wearing? Spock, this isn't you..) Kirk's hands came up and slid over Spock's shoulders, like he would shove the Vulcan back, but instead just rested there, gripping roughly at the solid muscle and angles of bone. Was Spock right? Did he want this? No, he'd protested, fought like the bull, but he... no. Excuses.
That seemed like some sort of signal to Spock. The Vulcan plundered Kirk's mouth like he had every right to be there. He pulled Kirk's pants further down his legs and touched, never stopped touching, every bit of skin that was revealed. It was probably the first time in his life he wished he hadn't gone commando. Those green-tinged hands felt like branding irons, searing the skin of his inner thighs, spreading them, displaying the fact a raging hard on. Kirk turned his head away, fingers tightening, nails biting into wool. The pleasure, however, was undeniable as Spock's mouth moved down Kirk's body, to swipe with lips and tongue at his urgent erection.
Too hot, too hot. It was burning, as much as his thighs and backside, but it was the kind of burning that made his hips jerk, hands moving to twist in black strands of hair. (Why aren't I running?!) "Sp-..." The beginning of his name fell but the rest was captured, eyes hazy and half-open as he looked down at his professor on his knees, tonging him like that.
Spock looked up for a moment. "Good students are rewarded instead of punished." He returned to his task, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked Kirk's cock deep.
"Oh fuck!" Kirk cried out, fingers tightening in the strands of hair they were holding. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his hips rocked forward, wanting more this is wrong needing more very, very wrong. The hot suction continued as Spock pulled almost all the way off, until just the head remained in his mouth, tongue pressing and fluttering at the underside before moving slowly, tortuously back down to the root. He couldn't last like this, with the mixture of heat and the teasing manner Spock was taking with this. Don't want to come, means he wins, fuck gonna, gonna, need to, fuckfuckfuck "FUCK!"
Spock's mouth was demanding and unrelenting, his hands working in concert to fondle Kirk's balls, press at his asshole with teasing fingertip, scratch at his inner thighs. It was turning Kirk into a mess, rocking his hips into that giving mouth, back onto the fingertip almost impaling himself on it, gaining more lines across his body. His lips were parted, eyes shut tightly as he felt his entire body clenching up. It was painful in its way, muscles too exhausted to want to do this but doing it all on instinct, but when he finally came it brought out an almost-scream, just a sound of exaltation as he released into the Vulcan's mouth, trembling with the strength of it. His mind blanked out completely except for white-colored hissing.
Spock swallowed, rode out the human's orgasm with gentling strokes of his tongue, then Spock stood and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his uniform shirt. He moved around to the back of his desk, sat in his chair and surveyed the weak and trembling youth still sprawled on the flat surface in front of him. "I suggest you go home and study, Mr. Kirk."
---------------------------------------------------
Kirk snapped awake, and into a nightmare.