Prompt: Pike, Kirk - on your knees, on your back, who'd you call when things got bad (Weightless, Black Lab)
Warnings: BDSM themes
Weight of Command
The strain on Jim's face, in his body, remained, but for an entirely different reason now. The weight of his captaincy, of expectations, of blood and death was pushed to the back of his mind, pressed back behind shields erected with lust and an entirely different desperation.
″You aren't in charge anymore. Not here, not now. I'm calling the shots, Kirk.″ Chris punctuated the soft statement by tightening his hold on Jim's erection, relishing the answering gasp and the further stiffening of Jim's already taut muscles. ″You will do as I say.″ After a moment to let his demand hit its mark, Chris softened his grip slightly, pumping slowly and flicking his thumb over the head of the weeping cock on the upstroke.
Jim whined, struggling lightly within the bonds, trying desperately to press himself upwards off the chair and against Chris' hand in search of more stimulation. ″You will also,″ Chris continued, allowing his blunt fingernails to dance a warning down Jim's length, ″not do anything I don't give you express permission to do. Is that understood? Don't speak, just nod your head.″
Jim jerked his head up and down sharply.
Chris reached around Jim's back to tug at the trailing ends of the cloth blindfold that allowed Jim to let go enough for this scene. ″You aren't the Captain now, Jim. I'm going to take care of you. Within these quarters, I'm in charge.″
Chris leaned down and claimed Jim's mouth in a demanding kiss, jacking Jim all the while. Enough to stimulate, not enough to entirely satisfy. He pulled away from Jim's mouth long enough to impart his final promise, ″It's going to be a long night, I hope you can keep up. Come for me. Now.″ Chris sank his teeth into Jim's lower lip, drawing no blood but eliciting a sharp cry from Jim's throat.
Following orders without argument for the first time in recent memory, Jim arched as much as his bonds would allow, and came.