Lovegame

AN: Inspired by "Lovegame" by Lady Gaga.

Disclaimer: SSDD

Rating: M

The rhythmic thrumming of his fingers on the arm of his chair was probably driving everyone else insane, but he wasn't really paying attention to them at the moment. There was a distant thought sitting on the outer edges of his consciousness, pushed slightly aside for duty, but it was still there.

The entire day had been an exercise in boredom, as nothing of particular interest occurred in any shift. One or two times, he called Scotty over the intercom and his chief engineer yawned. Bones wasn't answering, probably due to the fact he had probably called him twelve times in twenty minutes. Uhura sat at her station, legs crossed, balancing her chin on her hand, elbow resting on her knee. Chekov took to babbling, effectively keeping Sulu from passing out on his console. The only person seemingly unaffected by the lethargic energy of the ship was Spock. Of course, he couldn't help but think.

He got out of his chair suddenly, and walked over to the science station, even a lecture from his First Officer more entertaining than staring at the empty vid screen.

"Yes, Captain?" The deep voice inquired, not even having to turn around to know he was approaching.

"What? I can't just walk over here?" He asked defensively.

"No." Came the curt reply. "There is always an ulterior motive, Captain."

He heard his communications officer stifle a chuckle and he looked over to her to see her covering her smile with her hand, eyes glittering with laughter.

"Fine. I'm bored as Hell." He admitted, leaning over Spock's shoulder, supporting himself with a hand on the back of Spock's chair. "What are you working on?"

Spock stiffened. Spock may not have thought he noticed, but he did, and it was hard to stifle the smile. This was infinitely better than sitting in his chair staring at the vid screen.

"Nothing in particular." Spock finally stated, the tiniest ounce of strain in his voice.

"I see." Jim answered, leaning ever closer, pretending to be completely innocent, though his motives were far from it.

His First Officer's shoulders became all the more rigid. This time he couldn't hide the smile.

"Did I say something that amused you, Captain?"

He just kept looking ahead at the screen, refusing to look at his First, smile still on his face. It was hard not to look over when he felt those beautiful eyes locked on his face, as if trying to decipher him. Hard, but not impossible.

"That should be a square." He said suddenly, looking over at Spock, who only returned his glance with a most subtle look of confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"That should be squared. That's why it's not working out."

Spock only stared at him, entirely incredulous, before turning his eyes to the screen. Spock keyed in the change and the problem worked itself out in seconds. If he weren't Vulcan, Jim would have bet money on the fact that his jaw would have dropped.

A smug smile spread on his lips and he turned and sat back down, thrumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He glanced over his shoulder only once after that, watching Spock's elegant fingers fly over the keys in front of him. He was enthralled by the spectacle, but turned around quickly, not wanting to get caught.

When the shift finally came to a close a short twenty minutes later, he made his way to his quarters, hoping to just read through a report or two before collapsing onto his bed and sleeping until his alarm went off.

In the back of his mind, however, he couldn't help but think about the equation and the look on Spock's face when he found his mistake. It made his heart race, just like when he managed to beat the Vulcan at chess. It was a game for him, all innocent and at the same time not. It was fun for him. The reactions he garnered filled him and he stored them away, loving the minute way they warmed him on the inside, though he would never admit to that.

The door to his room slid open and he walked inside, pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it away in its proper place before falling into his chair, grabbing the report and reading through it, completely uninterested, but unable to just ignore it. He filed his own report and sent it along its way before picking up the second one off the desk. He yawned and got through half of it before the chime rang, indicating that someone was outside.

He dropped the P.A.D.D. onto his desk and walked over the door, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness that had built up in them. When the door opened, a smile crept onto his face and he turned back into the room, knowing he would be followed. Sitting again at his desk, picking up the report, he acted as if he were still alone, his smile still on his lips.

Another game.

After approximately two and a half minutes of silence, it was finally broken. His guest was getting less patient, and it was fantastic.

"James."

No one else ever called him that, and no one else ever could. Not anymore. There was something about the way he said it, filled the word with things no one else would ever be able to express. He only ever called him by that name when they were alone. It was the only place he could say it, at least for now. And for now, that was perfect.

Still, he remained [half] focused on the report, managing to get a little further into it before he was, again, interrupted.

"James." The word was repeated, filled with impatience and frustration, and somewhere under the vexation, endearment and love, dare he say. No one else got to see this, to hear this. For now and always this was all his; he could never give this up. For as long as he had this, it was all he'd ever need.

"Yes?" He asked, feigning indifference.

"How did you know?" Spock asked, a vague question, yet he knew what he was talking about. He laughed to himself; he had just gained the upper hand in their little game.

"Because." He answered back just as vaguely, knowing just how much it irritated Spock.

"That it an insufficient answer." His First returned, walking up to stand at his right shoulder.

"I know."

"Please explain."

"I'd rather not." He still hadn't lifted his gaze from his report, even if he had long since abandoned trying to actually read it, and from the presence edging in ever so lightly, he knew it was driving Spock insane. Spock had this beautiful obsession with his eyes, and he knew it too.

If he could get him to break in the next three minutes, he will have successfully beaten the current record. He maintained his attention on the report.

Spock left his side, and for the briefest of seconds he thought perhaps he had just lost his advantage, but that was before the P.A.D.D. was ripped out his hand from over his left shoulder and tossed onto the desk.

"My, that was impolite." He stated, slight, however facetious, reprimand his voice. He knew all it would take to win now was one thing. He turned in his chair, locking their eyes.

Check and mate, dear sir.

He felt Spock's heated hands on his bared shoulders, lifting him up, and he gave in, smiling, because he's already won. He stepped closer to the Vulcan as those heated hands slid up to gently encase his neck. Aside from that one step, he did nothing, keeping his hands pressed to his thighs, trying to resist touching, another game.

He was met with a confused look.

"Let's play a game." He responded with a devious smile, walking away from his First, stretching his muscles.

"That seems most inappropriate." Spock answered, vexation clear in his voice.

"Afraid you'll lose, Mr. Spock?" He inquired, not turning around.

"No." Came the harsh reply, though accompanied by a tight grip on his wrist.

"Then, rule one: No touching."

Spock remained silent, but retracted his hand, albeit unwillingly.

"First to give in loses."

"Are those the only rules, then, Captain?" Spock asked, mocking him with formality. He felt slightly closed off, but that would probably work to his advantage in the long run. If he couldn't know what Spock was thinking, he might be able to win this.

"Are you in the game?"

"Indeed."

He tried to hide his smile.

"Is departing the room against the rules?"

"Yeah." He answered, turning to face Spock, locking their eyes again. He saw Spock pull his hands behind his back.

After then he returned to his work, switching the computer on and ignoring Spock's existence for the most part, with the exception of the thoughts he knew he couldn't resist thinking, feeling them travel through him and along that shining link, somewhat dampened by the partial block.

"You're cheating."

"You always accuse me of cheating. I am doing nothing." He offered, shoving as much innocence in the words as he could, not lifting his eyes from the computer screen. Spock didn't say anything in response. Suddenly, the barrier between them dropped and he was flooded. His skin felt like it was burning up, every inch flushing a light red. His breathing became shallow and his heart race. He couldn't hold up under the images, feelings, thoughts, promises rushing into him.

He was shaking. He couldn't even hide it. He could feel that deep sense of satisfaction filling him along with the bombardment, but he couldn't think about anything else. He felt as if he were on fire but at the same time he was so cold. His skin was frigid but his mind was in flames and he needed to make it go away.

He ceded, letting himself lose, holding onto those strong arms in desperation he wasn't entirely sure belonged solely to himself, but at the moment, that didn't really matter. He leaned in to press his lips to his Vulcan's, but was stopped. He couldn't even voice his protest as Spock interrupted.

"Do you admit you've lost?"

He didn't really want to admit it. He bit his tongue.

"Do you?" Spock repeated, staring straight at him. He's lost his edge. He just nodded in acquiescence. "And what do I get for winning?"

"Me." He offered whole-heartedly and with hope.

"Worthy prize." The deep, dulcet voice commented before leaning in and capturing his lips. His fingers held a little more tightly and his eyes slid shut as he leaned into the kiss. "Is it out of line to ascertain that since I have won your game, for the duration, I have some control over the outcome?"

He only smiled, turning his face to press his lips to Spock's neck, feeling the even pulse through the kiss.

"Your eyes."

"What?" His voice was slightly muffled by Spock's skin, which he was much more enthralled with.

"I want to see your eyes."

He willingly complied and was rewarded quite well for his efforts. He was thrown down onto the bed, pressed tightly under his Vulcan's weight. He arched up, only to have his bare, heated skin met with fabric. He maintained eye contact, through trying to divest Spock of his shirt was much harder than he anticipated. Spock seemed amused by his frustration and decided to assist him.

When Spock pressed back against him, the heat of his skin was almost overwhelming. It had been far too long. Duty always came first, but right now, there was nothing else he would rather do.

"Your predilection for chaotic thought is quite distracting." Spock said suddenly, his voice low and in his ear. In spite of what was said, the tone sent a shiver down his spine. He leaned up, running his tongue along the shell of Spock's pointed ear, a site of undeniable interest on his part. He reveled in the slight shiver he earned. But it was slight.

"Open up to me." He pleaded, breathlessly, though he would never admit he was pleading, or begging. Spock merely pressed his lips to his temple before replacing them with his fingers, opening their connection the widest, heightening every sensation, every touch and sound. He reached up and held his hands on the small of Spock's back, running them up Spock's sides, slowly, feeling every inch of skin as if he would never feel it again.

"Do not think that way." Spock chided, though with those lips slowly driving him mad he couldn't really focus.

"Sorry." He answered with a smirk, communicating through their bond, not trusting his voice. He was still shocked at the ease with which he adapted to it; not only the communication, but also the idea of someone inside of his head, the idea of monogamy and finally feeling safe in staying in one place with one person for as long as life would grant him that simple pleasure.

"You are certainly rather the mood-killer." Spock commented with an amused tone, though there was something a little heavier to it.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again, far more sincere this time. "It's just my nature. I- I love being here with you. Please don't misinterpret me."

"You know that I will not. It's just disheartening when you think about dying." Spock's tone was undeniably saddened. Jim's heart dropped in guilt.

"Hold me and love me." He begged, arching up to keep as much contact as possible, wanting to wipe out everything. It only took seconds for them to forget, or at least move past those thoughts.

He managed to flip them, straddling Spock's hips, bending forward to connect their lips again. His Vulcan's hands came up to grip his hips with an almost bruising force, but he didn't really notice. He pushed himself up, lightly pressing his hands against Spock's, silently ordering them to stay put, earning the arch of one beautiful eyebrow, but he didn't offer a response in return.

He brought two fingers to his mouth rolling his tongue over the digits, briefly wondering how mad that would drive Spock. He pulled the fingers out of his mouth, bringing them to his opening. He pushed one finger in, groaning at the slight pain that spread through him. It had been too long. He felt Spock's hand twitch, ever so slightly at the noise that escaped his throat. He just placed his other hand over Spock's, continuing.

Arching his back, he inserted another finger, just barely missing his prostate and he whimpered, arching further, thrusting his fingers in deeper, but not yet deep enough and another desperate sound escaped him again. The grip around his hips tightened exponentially and thrust his fingers again, brushing that spot so faintly that he couldn't help but moan.

He smirked when a fiery hand wrapped around his wrist. He couldn't help but voice his objection at being disrupted but something far better than his own fingers was tempting him. Without anything to ease the friction, it would have to be hard and quick if he wanted to try to avoid as much pain as possible. That fleeting thought, he knew, would most likely cause Spock to hesitate once he felt it on their bond, so he thrust his hips down hard, feeling himself stretched and filled deep. He gasped and threw his head back.

He rolled his hips experimentally, trying to see how he could do this without hurting himself. He moved agonizingly slow, tentative, and shifted his hips that as he descended, his prostate was brushed perfectly and he couldn't even breathe. He repeated the movement, getting the same result and shook, lungs straining and trying to find air.

Suddenly, he was flat on his back, their contact not broken. He wrapped his legs around that lean waist, lifting his hips. He had known Spock would become frustrated with his slow movements. It brought slight amusement to his features before he was slammed into, hard, but not painful, and he arched his back, mouth dropping open, but the feeling was so overpowering that it trapped the moan in his throat. He pressed his heels into Spock's lower back, silently begging for more.

As Spock thrust faster, deeper, he couldn't help but dig his nails into the perfect skin of Spock's back, voice growing hoarse from the noises he couldn't contain. Spock locked their lips together, and Jim reached down, twining their fingers together in another form of a kiss he loved just as much.

While Spock remained almost outwardly completely controlled, inside his mind, on their connection, he could feel and hear everything. It was so beautiful, but made him remember how insecure he had felt long before their bonding. He quelled the thought quickly, running his free hand through his Vulcan's hair, perfect, as always, while his was probably completely ridiculous and he was sweating, and couldn't help but think he was unattractive, given the dark circles under his eyes on top of everything.

"You are gorgeous." The beautiful voice in his mind soothed and he couldn't resist the feeling that bubbled up inside of him, even though it did make him feel like a teenage girl.

But Spock struck his prostate again and he couldn't think anymore. His muscles ached from the strain. His entire body was tense, he was so close and feeling that Spock was the same made everything so much more powerful and intense and he was shaking and begging and moaning, writhing underneath his Vulcan, raising his hips, trying to get him deeper.

His mind faded into white and every muscle in his body thrummed as he came, his moan swallowed by Spock's mouth, his grip tightening. His body, however, was still tense, and every muscle tightened a fraction and Spock's breathless gasp washed over his ear as he was filled, the heat of his release burning and it eased out all the tension in his body.

He was shaking and gasping and panting and held on dearly, not wanting them to separate. Their mental connection fell to their more casual level, and he couldn't help but feel slightly distanced. He knew the thought was illogical, but he couldn't help it. He held Spock tightly, afraid to be let go.

"You have such saddening thoughts, t'hy'la. Do you have no faith in my feelings for you?"

"No, please. It's just- It's just that I need more than normal people would. I need-" He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, he faltered.

"I understand. You must realize, however, that maintaining such a heightened level can prove adverse."

"I know. Just – when we're alone, can you just keep yourself a little more open to me?"

"I am always open to you. You just don't know how to reach me."

"Then instruct me. Please."

Spock pressed his lips to Jim's much cooler forehead, holding him warmly.

"Of course."

Jim could hear the smile in his voice and he pressed closer, content in this for now.

Another game was in the works, something with another amazing prospect.

With Spock's already steady heart beating against him, he could feel his own body falling into a complimentary rhythm and his eyes slid shut.