HAPPY CANADA DAY
Rated R because actual porn content is very little. ~900 words.
She puts her hands on his shoulders slowly; fingertips first, then knuckles, and palms. There is a certain pleasure in breaking down even the smallest rituals to fit one’s liking, a thrill in being meticulous and particular for the sake of self-indulgence.
-It’s almost enough to simply see him naked in her bed.
The yeoman lies on his stomach, limbs outstretched like one of those old-timey skydivers that she learned about in History of Aviation at the academy. She thought the diver in the antique image was beautiful then, and she is thinking the same thought now, about the young man with his head in her lap, his eyes as blue as the sky photographed centuries ago. She will remember this, too, the feeling of his breaths against her skin of her thigh, and the thin perspiration on his back that seeps through her fingers.
She’s learned to love him, as she has with Pike. Falling is an inadequate expression; she prefers chemistry, the kind of reaction that slowly but surely catches up to the eye. Kirk challenges her in almost every matter aside from chess. She does, in fact, find it charming, though on the irritating side. (Christopher is always amused; the banters give him the rare excuse for pulling rank on you.)
The boy nudges his chin and looks up at her. His eyes travel up, up, and up, pass the curves of her hips and waist, pass the soft lines of her breasts in the dark brassieres, pass the handsome ridge of her nose and rest finally on her dark eyes. “Permission to speak freely, Commander?”
She arches an eyebrow. “Permission granted.”
“Before we do this-” He swallows mid-sentence, an unusual display of anxiety. “Perhaps it would be wise to trim your nails?”
“Oh.” It seems foolish that such a vital detail has escaped her so completely. (She can only imagine how the captain would look at her if she hurts Kirk before he has his turn with the boy-it came to her attention on the first day she and Kirk shared a bed that Christopher emphasizes the “my” in “my yeoman” just a tad too much, from time to time.) Kirk cracks a sly grin at the blank look in her eyes that vanishes as soon as it appears.
“Stay still,” she squeezes his shoulder before leaving the bed in search for the clippers and the file, digging her nails harder than necessary. Kirk winces a little. She knows it’s only a show, but she can’t help smiling when she's turned away from him.
“You’d think they’d invented something more sophisticated to deal with this by now,” mutters Kirk to himself, with a casualness he scarcely shows when they’re with Pike. Between the crisp, rhythmic noises of her nails being clipped off, she can’t help noticing how comfortable he is with his nakedness, even when arousal is plainly absent. They’d only known each other for five weeks, fucked thrice, never kissed, and never done anything together other than sex. It is out of joint that nothing is out of joint.
He is almost done with her left hand when she tells him to stop, getting on her knees and stretching out her legs to remove her panties before taking off her bra. The neat little pile of crescent-shaped clippings (all sparkly teal, the one that Christopher bought her at New Year’s) between them is all disheveled now, but still looks more collected than the young man sitting opposite of her, whose undivided attention on her tits is the furthest thing from subtle.
He looks delicious when he’s surprised,-or shows vulnerability in any place other than the chess table. Perhaps it is unseemly to be so blatantly smug, but she can hardly bring herself to care as she extends her left hand again, fighting off the urge to laugh.
“Start filing, yeoman,” her voice is level as always. “It’s for your own good.”
As Kirk takes her fingers between his and bends to the task, she makes a point of not looking between his legs. But there is no denying the acceleration of her heart rate when he kisses her fingers, lips lingering on each neatly trimmed and ground tip.
(It’s just the nerve endings-)
Her hands find purchase on his forearms and she throws him down, hard and fast like the way she is kissing him now, and his mouth opens up for her while his body tenses up. She’s not sure how much he likes being pinned under her with his face down like this, but of course he knows better than to struggle. She straddles his calves, satisfied to see that Kirk has crossed his hands behind his back without prompting.
She hovers over him, hands splayed on the sheets near his shoulder blades, her nails half dulled and half sharp. As she lowers herself to whisper into his ear, her erect nipples brushing against the nape of his neck.
“I’m ambidextrous. Breathe.”
Kirk chuckles into the sheets, “even if you are not, I’d still rather have your fingers up my ass than any other woman’s.”
“Good boy,” she purrs in a throaty voice that no one else on the ship has ever heard but Pike, until now. “Now shut up and spread your legs.”
He obeys her on both counts effectively, with a shiver down his spine. Pop goes the cap of the lube bottle as she flicks it open with her teeth.