NEW2ASCEM: Surrender 7/7 TOS [NC-17] (K/S, d/s)
ASCEM
Subject:
NEW2ASCEM: Surrender 7/7 TOS [NC-17] (K/S, d/s)
Date:
Tue, 9 Dec 1997 16:01:22 EST
From:
Killashdra <Killa...@aol.com>
Organization:
AOL (http://www.aol.com)
To:
as...@earthlink.net
Kirk reached his quarters with fourteen minutes to
spare.
The door slid shut behind him exactly as it had a
thousand times before, but this time he stopped just inside
it, stood very still.
Everything was the same, in its place, strictly
regulation down the line. And yet he could not escape the
feeling that something important was different. His eyes
went to the bookshelf, where Spock had stood, back turned,
the night before. The place near the metal screen, where
Spock had touched him for the first time. The chair where
the Vulcan had first kissed him... the bed...
You've really got it bad, he told himself. You're starting
to lose it. Get a hold of yourself.
But there was an ember of joy in his chest that would
not be extinguished.
He hurried into the shower, every nerve in his body
feeling like it was on overload. He didn't know what was
going to happen when the Vulcan walked through the door--
had no idea in fact. That in itself was a rush he couldn't
quite encompass. Would they kiss, touch each other gently?
Would they devour each other, like they had last night?
Would Spock tie him up again? Perhaps they would simply
play chess, and he would go quietly insane from wanting.
Perhaps Spock would meld with him.
He was already more than half-aroused when the water
hit his skin, and that thought made him flush with eager
heat. The truth was he didn't much care. He was going so
crazy with the need to see Spock that any or all of those
sounded almost unbearably wonderful.
The Vulcan had stayed down in the labs all day, sparing
them both the agony of being on the Bridge together, at
least for a little while. Eventually they would have to deal
with that, too. Kirk didn't know when--if--he was ever
really going to be able to deal with it. But they had both
known that today it would have been an impossibility. To
feel that presence at his back, and know he must not let it
show, must not think about what Spock had done to him the
night before. To look up and find those dark eyes on him,
knowing...
No. Not today.
It had been bad enough with Spock fifteen decks away.
The water sluiced fragrant lather down his back and he
thought about how odd it should have been, that he had found
it so natural after all these years to love another man, to be
in love with him, to make love with him. He would have to
take some time to think about that one of these days. Try to
understand what it meant.
But in his heart, it felt nothing but unutterably,
inevitably *right.*
Realizing that he had been daydreaming a little too long,
Kirk rushed through drying off and wrapped the towel around
his waist. In the bedroom, his brain hesitated over clothing.
A robe would be too obvious. His usual off-duty attire--
subdued and boring and chosen to maintain command image-
-would hardly do. He thought briefly about the tunic he'd
bought on Altair, but if a robe was obvious what would his
conservative first officer think of that clingy green silk?
No.
He'd only managed a pair of black drawstring workout
pants when the door signal sounded.
At the sound he turned, his body going hot, something
like panic closing his throat. Then it struck him what a
ridiculous picture he painted, the intrepid starship captain
utterly unable to make a decision about what clothes to put
on.
What the hell. He really didn't want to play chess
anyway.
"Come."
And the Vulcan was there in the doorway, tall and
elegant and overwhelming in a loose shirt and trousers of
gathered linen, making Kirk feel, as he often did when Spock
was around, like a scruffy peasant in the presence of
royalty.
Spock stopped in the open door, hands clasped behind
him, making a slow survey of Kirk's attire. He did not hurry.
When his gaze returned to Kirk's at last, the human found
himself a little breathless.
The dark eyes considered him. "From today forward," the
Vulcan said thoughtfully, "you should not be seen thus
outside of this room." He took the last step that would
bring him into the room, and the door slid shut behind him.
Kirk put his hands on his hips and cocked his head
challengingly. "Is that so?"
Spock nodded urbanely. "I could not be held responsible
for my actions."
Kirk closed the distance between them. "Would you care
to demonstrate?" His blood was singing just from that look.
He suddenly knew that not only did he not want to play
chess--he also was not going to be able to wait very long.
The hours of anticipation had him primed and ready, and just
being in the room with Spock was winding him up tighter
than a drum.
"You are so impatient," the deep voice chastised him.
"We do have all evening."
Kirk colored faintly. "Yes, of course. Please come in.
Make yourself comfortable." He checked his own eagerness.
This is Spock. Don't rush him. Just because you've worked
yourself into a state thinking about him all day...
He made himself ask casually, "What would you like to do
this evening?"
"What is your pleasure, Jim?" The question asked just as
casually
And suddenly Kirk could feel him smoldering in his cool
linen, could feel the tension drawn taut in the other's body.
Spock wanted this as much as he did.
Perhaps he just wanted a little convincing.
So be it. If Spock wanted a deliberate seduction then
Kirk would give it to him, in spades. He lowered his eyes,
concentrating every trick he knew on his cool, untouchable
Vulcan.
"My pleasure," he echoed, one hand still at his hip, the
other tracing his lower lip thoughtfully with a fingertip.
"My pleasure would be... coffee and conversation, Mr. Spock.
What do you say?" He looked up at Spock again, daring him.
"As you wish," Spock agreed, playing the game.
Kirk crossed the room, not hurrying, feeling Spock's eyes
like a brand on his skin. At the synthesizer he paused,
pretending to consider. At last he looked back over his
shoulder, smiling a little. "Well, I suppose I'm really not in
the mood for coffee, after all. You?"
Spock shook his head. His eyes were hooded. "Perhaps
just the conversation then," he said, his voice just slightly
roughened around the edges.
Kirk felt a surge of gratification. Oh yes, my friend. You
can feel how much I want you, can't you?
As if he had heard the thought, Spock swallowed, his
throat moving almost imperceptibly. "What did you wish to
discuss?"
Was that a hint of unsteadiness in his voice? Kirk
turned and came back across the room, slowly closing the
distance between them. "I had a talk with Dr. McCoy this
evening."
Spock blinked, obviously not expecting that. "Indeed?"
"Indeed." Kirk moved closer still. "It was... most
enlightening."
"May I ask the topic?"
Kirk came to a halt less than half a meter from the
Vulcan. It struck him again that he had to look up to meet
the other's eyes at this distance--and something in him
responded unexpectedly to that realization, drawing the
heat tighter in his belly. "You," he said at last, in answer.
"You... and me." Spock's eyes widened, and Kirk took pity on
him. "Don't worry. I didn't tell him anything important. He
did all the talking."
Spock looked genuinely perplexed. "Regarding...?"
Kirk managed to keep a straight face. "Biology."
The eyebrow rose predictably. "I see. May I presume you
refer to... Vulcan biology?"
"You may."
"And what, may I ask, was the conclusion to this
discussion?" Spock was obviously uneasy with the thought
of Kirk and McCoy discussing such things.
Kirk sighed. "There wasn't one, really." He was standing
very close now. Close enough to feel the Vulcan's faint
trembling, close enough for Spock to feel his. "He knows
about the link, you know."
"I know." Spock's voice was hardly more than a whisper
now. "It was he who convinced me that I had no alternative
but honesty with you."
"Then I owe him one," Kirk said softly, letting his eyes
show how great indeed was the debt.
"The debt is mine. Entirely mine." Spock drew a an
audible breath, and suddenly his hands were at Kirk's bare
waist, warm and possessive, and the human felt himself
sway at the touch. "You are a sorcerer," Spock whispered
near his ear. "I cannot keep my hands from you."
"Then don't," Kirk said hoarsely, closing his eyes. "Don't."
Those hands traced upward along his sides, and he
thought he would die from the pleasure of it.
"You are so responsive."
Kirk heard his own respiration, uneven and heavy,
catching with each brush of the sensitive fingers along his
skin, his ribs, his belly. "You're making me crazy."
Spock touched his face. "You are making me want to kiss
you."
A sound escaped Kirk's lips, a soft vibration of wanting.
He opened his eyes, met Spock's, drowning in his own need
and love. "Yes," he whispered.
He tried, very hard, to keep his eyes open. But the full
lips brushed his, so gently, and he could not help himself.
He moaned faintly and had to put a hand on Spock's waist to
steady himself.
The Vulcan drew back, and Kirk opened his eyes again,
his own lips parted, begging. Please. Please, I need more.
Please kiss me again.
"I very much like hearing you say that," Spock murmured,
his lips flushed, hands warm against Kirk's skin. "You are
beautiful when you say yes to me."
"Kiss me again," Kirk pleaded, the longing greater than
his pride. "Please, Spock."
And Spock's hand was in his hair, cradling the back of his
head, holding him, and the feeling of being controlled rushed
through him in a surge of memory and need. The Vulcan's
mouth came down on his, and then they were kissing for
real, a slow, intimate caress of lips and tongue, hot and
sweet, incinerating. Kirk groaned, felt something coming
apart at the core of him. His hands held on to Spock, pulling
him close, closer. They were one, mouths hungry for one
another, the naked warmth of Kirk close against the leaner
planes of the Vulcan's body, their urgent erections
caressing, pressing together through loose fabric.
At last, desperate for air, Kirk broke away. He felt that
if Spock let go of him, he would fall. "Please," he gasped,
shaking, "I can't wait. I need--"
Those strong hands at his back, the nape of his neck,
holding him. "What do you need, t'hy'la? Tell me what you
need."
Anything. You can do anything you want with me. But he
couldn't make the words come.
Suddenly Spock had him by the wrists, was pushing him
backward. He went willingly, stumbling. "This, James?" the
Vulcan whispered gently. "Is this what you wish?"
Spock had him pressed up against the mesh divider now,
and Kirk felt him shift, saw that the Vulcan had pulled
something out of the pocket of his trousers. He tried to see
what it was. And then he did see.
A pair of security restraints, glinting in the low light.
A shudder ran through Kirk, and he thought he made a
sound, a low moan in the back of his throat, almost
inaudible.
And Spock heard, of course. The full lips curved ever so
slightly and Spock leaned down to kiss him, a feather touch
underneath his jaw. "Give me your hand," he whispered.
The click as the second restraint locked into place made
something shift over in Kirk's brain, something vital and a
little frightening--and utterly, utterly erotic. He pressed
back, feeling the imprint of metal mesh in his buttocks, his
shoulders. He was so hard it hurt. Then Spock was leaning
toward him, those incredible hands on his hips, pushing his
pants down. When he was done, the Vulcan stood back a
little.
"Yes, let me look at you. Let me see you."
Kirk had no choice, for he was naked now, stripped and
pinned before Spock, cock hard and nipples tight with
longing. He wanted to beg Spock to touch him--was afraid
to for fear he would only be teased more.
Spock unbuttoned his own pale linen shirt then, until it
was open down the front, the tails hanging loose. Beneath
the soft, cream-colored fabric he was all dark curls and
taut muscle. His body was compact and, to Kirk, incredibly
arousing. He ached to feel that smooth, alabaster skin on
his.
And then Spock did touch him, and it was spontaneous
combustion, out of control.
That touch on his belly, his ribs, stroking him lightly as
before, only this time the rush of sensation that followed
each touch flooded through him in shivery waves of heat.
Without warning, the dark head bent and those full,
sensuous lips were caressing his nipple, teasing. Before he
could even fully register the first shock of pleasure, he felt
the deliberate assault of tongue and teeth.
"Oh god..."
And the attack went on, and on, until he was moaning
aloud, wanting to plead for mercy and unable even to form
words. His arousal was so great that he could feel
dampness on his thighs, his own pre-ejaculate.
Involuntarily, his hips moved against Spock's body, needing
contact, and his cock brushed rigid heat through the other's
clothing. His breath caught, the first delicate frisson of
orgasm twining itself in his groin.
Spock pulled away, leaving him bereft. "Be still. You
may not find release until I permit it. Do you understand?"
Kirk made a sound which was meant to be assent. But
before he could think or catch his breath, that enflaming
mouth was on his belly, and moving lower.
"Spock..." it came out a sob, for that mouth was kissing
his groin now, his scrotum, the tops of his thighs. And he
knew, beyond any doubt, that if Spock put that mouth on
him, on his cock, he was going to lose it. "Spock, please..."
And suddenly he could not bear it, that his hands were
tied and he could not feel him, could not press his body into
all the curves and hollows of him, could not hold him close
and kiss him. Suddenly it was not enough. He needed more.
The Vulcan was crouching before him, pupils dilated, lips
parted. Looking up at him.
Waiting.
Kirk fought to find the words to express that need. He
swallowed, hard. Pleaded, "Let me love you. Let me make
love to you."
"You wish me to release you?" The deep voice was
ragged, unsteady, and Kirk heard the answering need.
"Yes. Please, I... I need to touch you."
For a moment, Kirk saw a brightness in his lover's eyes
like tears, and his own throat closed. Spock leaned forward,
very slowly, and rested his face against Kirk's thighs. His
eyes closed, then opened again, and he rose to his feet
gracefully. He said nothing, only reached up, freeing Kirk's
hands with slow deliberation.
Then the hands that had freed him pulled him close, and
Spock kissed him deeply, thoroughly, and the pleasure was
all-consuming.
"I want you inside of me," Kirk whispered when he could
breathe. The bed was under him, and Spock on top of him,
and he was not certain how that had happened but he did not
really care.
Spock's hands were in his hair. "This way?" he asked, his
eyes dark embers, smoldering. Somewhere he had lost some
clothing, for his penis was pressed tight against Kirk's hip,
hot and slick and as hard as Kirk felt.
"Any way," Kirk breathed, knowing only the need. "Every
way." And then, belatedly, remembering--"I have some stuff
in the cabinet."
The lean form shuddered under his hands, and Spock
looked at him, hard. "Can you?"
"Yes." He knew what Spock was asking; can you wait?
He had gone past the point of orgasm now--pleasure was a
high, hot flame in every nerve of his body. When release
finally came, it would be almost like agony. But for now...
"Yes, I can. I want it." He was the wanting, no room for
anything else in him but that.
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Spock reaching
above his head for the tube of lubricant he had put there
earlier. He drew deep breaths, letting them out slowly,
concentrating on making his body relax. The Vulcan's
breathing was audible and erratic, and Kirk knew he was not
going to be able to go slow. That was all right. But he did
not want Spock to fear hurting him.
A few moments, and he looked up to find Spock kneeling
between his thighs, watching him with a still expression,
his eyes wide and full of light. Uncomfortable under that
naked worship, Kirk dropped his gaze--to a sight that made
him draw a rather worshipful breath of his own.
He's going to be inside of me.
Dear god in heaven.
Spock touched him, one hand on the soft skin of his inner
thigh. Are you sure? his eyes asked.
"It's all right," Kirk murmured, and drew his knees up, as
if to show that it was. As it had been when Spock had done
it the night before, that exposed feeling was the scariest
part; Kirk felt a little thread of fear, but didn't fight it. It
was all right to be afraid. Spock would make it all right.
He could see the Vulcan trembling now with the effort at
control, but the slick fingers that touched him were gentle,
probing, and it was a different kind of pleasure, no less
stimulating.
"Oh, god, so good. So good." And suddenly he couldn't
bear the solitariness of his own body, and he reached up,
pleading. "Now, Spock."
Then the weight of Spock, so good on top of him, silk,
velvet and steel. Kirk drew his knees back further, trying
not to brace himself against the pain to come, not really
succeeding. It was scarier like this, without the restraints,
without Spock commanding him, ordering his submission.
Harder to give this freely than to have it taken from him.
But he wanted it, would bear the pain to have it. The silky,
slippery head of the other man's penis touched him, and he
drew a breath that tasted of flying, and fear.
But instead of pushing inside him, Spock stopped, leaning
heavily on Kirk's thighs--and reached to touch his face.
A single, hovering moment of air and light. The voice,
touching him at his center.
Bright one.
Spock?
This moment. Love. You are.
Kirk felt the dissolution of control, the breakdown of
coherent thought, knew that Spock was over the edge now,
lost.
Come inside me.
Yes. Inside--
Spock groaned deep in his throat and moved, and Kirk felt
himself opened up, filled, and it was all right because of the
hand on his face, because of his love, because when Spock
entered him all he felt was his own heat, his own silk, his
own tightness; and when at last Spock came in great,
shuddering waves of release, the pleasure was his, he
owned it, and there was no pain.
"Jim?"
A long moment passed, in which Kirk tried and failed to
raise his head from the pillow.
"Yeah?" he managed finally, figuring it would have to do.
Silence.
"What is it, Spock?"
"Nothing," a muffled voice said, from somewhere near his
left ear. "I was merely checking."
Kirk thought about that for a moment. And then he
grinned weakly; laughing would have taken too much energy.
"I don't pass out *every* time, you know."
"Mm."
The human considered. "I bet you passed out too, that
first time. You just woke up before me."
"Mm." Beside him, Spock shifted slightly, pressing more
tightly to his backside. "You will never know."
Kirk lay in the semi-darkness, listening to the Vulcan
breathe, feeling the steady rise and fall of that slow rhythm
against his back. It came to him, a blunt shock, that it had
been only twenty-four hours since his best friend and first
officer had come to his quarters, offered him a back rub,
and concluded the evening by tying him up and fucking him
into oblivion. He hadn't let himself think about 'no matter
what,' yet... hadn't let himself think about McCoy's
hypothetical Vulcan females. Happily ever after was
something he had never hoped for with any lover. There
were a thousand reasons why he shouldn't hope for it now.
Still, he couldn't help feeling the touch of forever at his
back, in his heart.
"I've never done that before, you know," he said at last,
into the quiet of the room. "Not any of it."
"I know," Spock murmured against his nape. One arm had
found its way around his middle, was cradling him loosely.
The tightness in Kirk's throat eased. He fell silent again
for a few minutes, testing his own reactions to the thought
that had drifted idly into his brain a moment before.
"Do you...?" He drifted off.
"What, Jim?"
"Well... did you... like it?" His voice had dropped to a
whisper. "Tying me up, I mean. Telling me what to do."
There was a pause. Then, "Do you really have any doubt?"
"You know what I mean. Do you... like being in control?"
Spock was silent for a long moment, and Kirk felt a kind
of sinking in his chest, guilt and shame gathering. But then
Spock stroked his hair once, very gently. "I liked... pleasing
you," he said softly, and the human's heart expanded in
answer to that vulnerable honesty. "It was... most
gratifying, to be able to bring you such pleasure. Such
release."
"You don't have to do it any more," Kirk said in a small
voice. "If you don't want to."
"Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"Go to sleep. You talk excessively."
Kirk half-turned in his arms, outraged. "*I* talk too
much?"
"Affirmative."
"Look here, mister. *You're* the one--"
"Jim?"
"What?"
"Be still. Now."
And that was the voice that demanded obedience, that
compelled it, and this time Kirk heard the dark timbre of
pleasure, the soul-deep satisfaction.
He knew, then, that he did not need to worry.
[the end]
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