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Despite having spent the last twenty three days indulging the Promptians' curiosity regarding humanoid sexual practices, Jim is just as eager to begin today’s venture into the study chamber as he has been for the entirety of the mission.
“What are you thinking for today?” he asks, rocking on the heels of his bare feet, still wearing only his uniform slacks; his chest, bare but for the black ink of Spock’s name taking up his left side, on glorious display for Spock's enjoyment. He has forgone a shirt since the very first day of the mission, deviating only when the prompt to be fulfilled required a change in dress code.
As today’s inevitably will.
“I believe you would find the prompt more enjoyable if I present it as a ‘surprise’.” Spock replies, slipping into parade rest and cocking a brow as his bondmate gives Spock his full attention.
“Oh?”
“As such, I would ask you to kindly step into the study chamber and await further instruction.” Spock says primly, ignoring Jim’s insistent plucking at the bond, trying to garner some hint of the upcoming scene.
“Alright then, keep your secrets.” Jim smirks, bouncing forward to press a kiss to Spock’s cheek before heading directly towards the holo-suite’s entrance. “Don’t forget the lube!”
As Spock is already experiencing dampness in his own ‘fleet issued trousers in anticipation of today’s proceedings, it is highly unlikely that they will have need for additional artificial lubrication.
If he stops to think about it for too long, Spock would have… concerns, over his recent hormonal shift. For three days now, his already high libido has been… nearly insatiable. His focus is almost always on Jim and the next possible time he can have skin to skin contact with him, desperately desires to rut against him even after they’ve already spent a decently large portion of the day having sex.
As he approaches their suite’s replicator and presses the codes for a new uniform, Spock allocates the thought, and any associated worries, to future meditations.
🚪
Jim is still staring in confusion at the room that has just generated around him when Spock slips in the door. As yet unnoticed by Jim, who’s staring at the various lab equipment and work stations around the room, Spock takes the opportunity to place himself behind a particularly high counter.
“This isn’t one of our science labs.” Jim points out, confused amusement tickling in the bond. There’s arousal though too, and Spock shifts his feet in his standard issue ‘fleet boots. The movement dislodges a drop of moisture from his sheath, and Spock shivers as he tracks the moisture dripping down his thigh.
“You are correct.” Spock informs him. As a matter of fact, it’s a replication of a lab that neither of them have been in before. The setting, in fact, has very little to do with the prompt that Spock has selected for the day; it just seemed appropriate, considering the color of the uniform he’d selected.
“So what-” Jim begins, but his words fade away as Spock steps out from behind the high countertop and reveals himself to Jim.
It is endlessly perplexing to Spock, that his human bondmate derives so much pleasure from a change in clothing, when they regularly see each other in the nude.
“Spock, you-” Jim’s sentence cuts off in a garbled choking sound as he darts across the distance between them.
Admittedly, Jim had been asking for years for Spock to indulge this particular fantasy of his; having spied the appropriate kink in the Promptian’s requests, Spock decided that it was time to ‘cave’.
Jim steps into his personal bubble, licking his lips as his eyes rove from the tip of Spock’s boots to the tips of his ears; Spock feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment, even as his sheath heats with desire.
The skant uniform was meant for anyone on a star ship, was perfectly ‘fleet regulation to wear regardless of gender or gender identity. Spock refrained because the short skirt of the uniform left his legs grievously exposed to the cold air, all the way down to his calf height boots. He already struggled with staying warm, despite Jim’s best efforts to keep him that way.
With the short blue skirt and the long sleeves tailored to be able to reach all the way to Spock’s wrists, there was still hardly enough material here to ward off any significant chill.
“You’re too good to me.” Jim croaks, fingers of his right hand reaching out to ghost along the hem as he palms his own hardening sex with his left. “Seriously. How’d I get to be so lucky?”
Jim’s eyes are shining with delight when he meets Spock’s gaze, and some of the embarrassment fades, even as another shudder wracks his body and sends a fresh stream of lubricant dripping down his leg. The drop reaches the top of his boot, and Spock twists his ankle to dislodge the pooling liquid before Jim can spot it.
In so doing, of course, Spock draws his husband’s attention directly to the issue.
“Oh my god.” Jim whispers, reverence and awe apparent in his tone and chorusing in the bond. “Are you-”
Spock remains silent as Jim’s questing fingers tease along the hem of the short skant, before he pinches the dress between his thumb and fore-finger, pulling it taut as his remaining digits press at the vee of Spock’s legs.
“You’re not wearing any underwear.” Jim whimpers. “Fuck, Spock, you’re positively dripping.”
Spock considers making a quip about having brought the extra lubricant, but Jim is running his hands under the skant and along Spock’s sides in a very distracting manner.
“Please tell me I get to fuck you in this.” Jim breathes, pressing a delicate kiss to Spock’s throat, followed by a half dozen more. “You look so good Spock, please, please let me fuck you.”
“Th-that is the intended course of action.” Spock manages to say, despite Jim’s lips ghosting along the shell of his ear before pointedly suckling at the sharpened tip.
“How do you want it?” Jim asks, voice soft with reverence and mindful of the proximity of Spock’s sensitive ear. “You want my fingers first? My mouth? Or should I just bend you over one of these lab tables and fuck that pretty pussy of yours til we both fill your boots with slick?”
In lieu of a verbal response, Spock clutches at the bond and shares some of his desperation with his husband. He’s unreasonably aroused, for so little foreplay; hasn’t felt this needy and deprived, so animalistically hungry for sex since his Pon Farr. With that less than a year behind them, it couldn’t possibly be a relapse.
“Poor thing, you’re just desperate to get dicked down, hm?” Jim coos, gently pressing Spock backwards towards one of the lower lab tables. “Haven’t seen you this horny since you tried Selek’s love potion.”
Spock’s cheeks flush with shame. His alternate self had proffered the formula for an aphrodisiac as a bonding gift to the younger couple. It had been months before they’d had a chance to try it, and the memory of feeling like a sehlat in heat until Jim had mounted him multiple times haunts the normally composed Vulcan; though he’d eagerly taken it again for Jim’s birthday not a month later.
“Think I can cure you?” Jim purrs, nipping blunt human teeth along Spock’s jawline, hands bunching in the meager folds of fabric the skant provided. “Need some cock to cure what ails you, ashaya?”
Jim is fully aware of what it does to him when he speaks Spock’s native tongue; unfortunately, despite being equally aware of this, Spock is still defenseless in its utilization.
“Will you make me beg?” Spock asks, swallowing hard and trying desperately not to grind himself down on the thigh that’s wedging its way between his own.
“Depends.” Jim murmurs, hands once more skimming beneath the skirt of Spock’s uniform, thumbs rubbing in concentrically larger circles, teasing closer and closer to his dripping sex. “Do you want me to make you beg?”
Lathing his tongue up the column of Spock’s throat, the Vulcan tipping his head back for easier access, Jim adds, “Because you’re just so damn pretty when you beg, sweetheart.”
Spock’s will crumples, and he grinds himself down, shamelessly rutting himself against Jim’s firm thigh. Pet names are rarely his preference, but he is desperate enough now to let it slide.
“That’s it, fuck.” Jim coos, gripping Spock’s hips and easing the pace of the Vulcan’s aimless rutting; the shift to consistent pressure providing a much more satisfactory sensation. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”
In a mimicry of his doppelganger's degrading speech, Jim playfully adds, “Come on, use your big boy words.”
Spock finds, however, that words are lost to him; his first orgasm takes him by surprise, a peak he hadn’t known he was working towards until he’d fallen unceremoniously off of the other side. Fra’ls spilling loose on a wave of slick, Spock distantly acknowledges that his lok has yet to evert.
Pleasure wracking his body and mind gone fuzzy at the edges with the flood of happy chemicals his climax has released, Spock is barely cognizant of the manhandling he’s receiving. It becomes apparent to him though, when his hands are placed against the flat top of the lab table, booted legs kicked wide, and something seeking and deliciously hard is punting up his backside.
“So fucking hot, Spock.” Jim gasps, rucking the skant skirt over his space-pale cheeks and exposing his sex to the room at large. With one hand pressing down on Spock’s lower back, Jim must be using the other to guide his length in teasing swipes through the thoroughly drenched lips of the Vulcan’s sheath.
“Yes!” Spock hisses, hiking his hips higher and pressing back, fingertips curling over the edge of the lab table. “Jim, adun, give it to me.”
“Now what kind of husband would I be, to deny such a pretty request as that?” Jim delights, though he teases the crown of his length in short little thrusts against the pucker of Spock’s anus before sliding downwards and sinking into his sheath with a wet schlup and sending a spatter of displaced lubrication and lingering ejaculate to the floor below.
Spock groans, long and loud, shamelessly pleased with having his mate’s hardened length finally sheathed in his body. It feels right, a stuffed feeling of completeness that has Spock questioning why he ever lets his lok evert, if the alternative is having Jim inside him like this.
The bond is alight with pleasure, both physical and emotional; Spock at being filled, a momentary appeasement to his unrelenting hunger, and Jim with awe at his husband’s depraved satisfaction.
“Fuck Spock, you’re just gagging for it, aren’t you?” Jim asks, rocking shallow thrusts into Spock’s sheath that do little to provide the appropriate stimulation, but Spock finds that he does not mind at this juncture; it is far more important that Jim remain inside-
“Wanna be my personal cockwarmer?” Jim teases, grinding his hardness up and into Spock’s clutching heat. “No thrusting, no grinding; just your hot cunt, sucking me in and keeping my cock nice and wet.”
“Jim.” Spock pleads, though he’s not entirely certain what for; Jim is showing an unprecedented amount of restraint by not immediately rutting into the pliant body Spock has proffered for his use. “Please-”
“Please?” Jim echoes, dropping his hands to clutch once more at the single fold of fabric that has slipped back down, barely covering Spock’s backside. Jim carefully lays the pleats just so, petting at the stiff uniform fabric while Spock tries to formulate a verbal request.
“I require further participation on your part to achieve climax.” Spock manages to grit out. His fra’ls have taken up a tight grasp at his husband’s length, buried as it is inside his clutching heat; he twines them around the shaft with weak pulsing in an attempt to encourage further movement on Jim’s part.
“Define further participation.” Jim encourages, hands sliding beneath the skant skirt and pawing at Spock’s cheeks. He spreads them wide and begins to withdraw, hard length slipping wetly from Spock’s sodden sheath and dragging a high pitched sound from the Vulcan’s throat.
“Sorry, what was that?” Jim asks, all faux innocence even as he strokes at his shaft and the fra’ls that writhe in protest at his withdrawal.
Spock could cry from the cruelty of it; he is desperate, and he needs, and Jim has abandoned him-
Shock echoes across the bond from Jim, and suddenly he’s stuffed full again as Jim’s length plunges back into his body, his husband’s arms coming up to wrap around Spock’s middle and clutch him close.
:You don’t seem okay.: Jim frets. :What was that?:
:I need you.: Spock whines, unashamed to express his desires in their sacred bond. :You must fulfil your duties as my mate, Jim. I need you to mount me, bury yourself in my body and fill me with your seed, now, please-:
:Holy shit, Spock.: Jim replies weakly. :Fine, okay. I’m gonna fuck you, but then we are having a serious discussion about what’s going on with you after.:
:After.: Spock hurriedly agrees; anything to get Jim to move. :After you have given me your seed and marked your claim in my body.:
Distant cursing echoes back at him as Jim retreats from the bond and kicks off his pants in the physical world. Barefoot and nude, hunched over Spock’s blue skant covered body, Jim murmurs into his ear, “Hold on tight, sweetheart. You want this cock? That’s fine by me. Gonna pound your pretty pussy til you’re so stuffed with my cum that it drips out of you.”
With a high pitched whine, Spock complies with his Captain’s order, gripping the table edge tight and bracing his booted feet wide.
Jim’s teasing mood has fled, as he draws back and sets up a robust thrusting pace, hard length sluicing in and out of Spock’s drenched sheath. The sound of slick spattering to the floor only serves to egg him on, as Jim holds true to his promise and begins to pound away at Spock’s backside.
“Love how wet you get for me, sweetheart.” Jim grunts, hips slapping against Spock’s cheeks, pendulous testes smacking wetly against the hidden slit where his lok would emerge if he were at all in the mood for it.
The feeling of Jim, pistoning in and out of his body, is sending constant shivers of pleasure through Spock’s entire being. The scrape of Jim’s cockhead where it flares against the ridged lining of his sheath has the fra’ls shuddering with delight, swiftly growing plump with anticipatory seed.
“You gonna come for me?” Jim pants, exertion from his relentless rutting taking its toll. Shifting his weight, Jim’s hands slip to the Vulcan’s hips and begin tugging Spock back onto his length, only to jostle him forward with each subsequent thrust. “This the kind of fuck you wanted? Hard and fast, til you come on my cock?”
Jim’s vulgarity is certainly aiding things along, but it’s the tug from Jim’s mind in the bond, where he floods his depraved enjoyment of Spock’s trim waist in the skant uniform, the hem damp from their shared secretions, that sends Spock over the edge.
“Jim!” he cries, core locking up and hips writhing in his husband's firm grasp as pleasure rocks through him.
“That’s it, that’s my good Vulcan.” Jim growls. “Can’t believe how fucking tight you get when you come, body sucking me in so good, so deep.”
“More.” Spock croaks, arching his back and trying to entice his mate to cover him once again.
The steady drip drip drip of slick and ejaculate slipping from his body to slap lewdly against the floor is distantly embarrassing, but the need to have Jim, for his mate to reach his peak and flood him with his seed takes an overwhelming precedence.
“Jim, please.” Spock tries, peering over his shoulder at his wide eyed and panting mate.
“No time for afterglow when you’re desperate for my cum, hm?” Jim snorts. “Guess it’s only fair then, since you’ve had two…”
With one last wistful tug at the hem of the skant, Jim rucks the fabric up out of the way, skimming the skirt up around Spock’s waist and wadding the material into his fists.
Grip now firmly established, Jim pulls the fabric taut and uses the handfuls to ground himself as he begins to rut into Spock’s sheath; short, stabbing little thrusts that have the Vulcan purring in delight.
“Next time, gonna make you ride me in this cute little thing.” Jim grunts, teeth audibly grinding together as he no doubt tries to stave off his own orgasm. “Put you in a soft pair of cotton panties and make you grind against me til you come, then stuff my cock in that hungry little pussy of yours.”
Spock is far more focussed on the friction of Jim’s penetration than the words spilling from his mouth, but he does so adore the sound of his husband’s voice.
“Like it when I talk to you like this?” Jim pants, the growing desperation in his thrusts heralding his own approaching climax. “When I call your pussy pretty, and tell you how much I love having you on my cock?”
Breath being rutted from his lungs in sharp little huffs of air, Spock can only nod and claw at the bond with his fervent approval.
“You do, don’t you?” Jim hisses, “Fuck, you’re such a good little Vulcan, my perfect adun.”
Teetering perilously close to his third climax, Spock rockets his delight at being Jim’s down the bond and, clever human that he is, Jim immediately latches onto this.
“My Vulcan, my favorite fuck toy, my mate.” Jim growls, abandoning his grip on the skant with one hand to wrap a possessive arm beneath Spock’s torso, laid out as it is on the lab table.
Spock keens.
“That’s it, oh fuck, yes, Spock.” Jim groans, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering. “Gonna come, can’t wait to come in your hot little cunt, fuck. Sweetheart, come on, tell me you’re close-.”
Jim’s pleading is cut off in a sharp gasp as his orgasm overtakes him, and Spock’s keening is replaced with a stuttered moan; as Jim’s hot seed floods his sheath, the Vulcan clamps down tight on the intruding member pumping him full.
The increase in pressure sends Spock’s nerves alight, a deep fluttering sensation filling his core as he reaches his own peak. Slumping down against the table and quivering with the aftershocks, Spock can only lay there and bask in the aftermath, the strain of three consecutive orgasms finally taking its toll.
“Holy shit, Spock.” Jim breathes after a few moments of clutching at Spock’s back, his length still spurting the occasional blurt of seed into the Vulcan’s clenching heat. “That was-”
“-quite enjoyable.” Spock finishes.
Something tickles at his mind, and it’s with a start that Spock comes to a sudden realization. A flicker of alarm dances through his mind as he tries to wrangle his cum drunk thoughts into some semblance of order.
His excessive ejaculation recently, followed by an insatiable desire to take Jim within himself, that curious fluttering feeling-
“Jim.” Spock says slowly, the high of his orgasm fading fast in the wake of realization.
“Hm?” Jim grunts, still more than a little out of it. When Spock shares his feelings of trepidation in the bond, though, the sated bondmate is immediately replaced with the facade of alert Captain; despite his length still twitching inside of Spock’s body.
“What? What’s wrong?” he demands, petting at Spock and checking him for injuries.
“Possibly nothing.” Spock replies. “However-”
Pressing against the bench to lever himself upright, Spock winces at the feeling of Jim’s spent member slipping free of his sheath; the fra’ls attempt to retract to their own pocket is ruthlessly smothered by the Vulcan. Now is not a good time for Jim’s seed to be held captive and warmed by the return of the fra’ls.
“What’s-” Jim frowns in confusion as Spock shoves a myriad of facts at his bondmate, rapid fire. The increase in his already high libido. The fluttering of his loins during copulation. His missed bi-monthly stop in the sickbay for contraception.
Staring back at him in shock, Jim’s blue eyes are wide as they are drawn, inevitably, to the steady trickle of seed coursing down Spock’s thighs. They have indeed managed to make a mess of his boots, though they haven’t filled them entirely by any means. Spock’s unease grows as Jim comes to the same conclusion as himself.
“Oh, fuck.”