Characters: Kirk, Spock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: THE INTERNET IS FOR PORN.
Notes: OMFG WHY IS THIS GETTING EPIC!? WHYYYYYY!? This is actually comments 4-6 at the kinkmeme. I expect I'm looking at an eight part, which means it's likely one more chapter, here.
The cool water had finally begun to feel lukewarm against Spock's hands, instead of the burning heat he'd felt when he first placed his hands in it. Still, his hands didn't feel right, at all. His fingers were oddly stiff as he popped the sink drain, before bringing them around in front of him, to have a look. The one word that slipped between his lips was actually Romulan, because the Vulcan language had been stripped of its most powerful expletives, hundreds of years in the past. There was no Standard translation for the word, because expletives were always the last things to be translated, but it was definitely the sort of word intended to melt the ears off of prim librarians.
Both of Spock's hands were swollen, to nearly twice their proper size, by the rush of blood returning to them and the body's attempts to resolve the damage done. The sensations in his skin were entirely surreal, as he thumbed his fingertips -- the swelling had stretched the skin, making everything feel at once very far away and extremely erotic. Fascinated, he continued stroking his fingers, as the captain massaged his feet. As his penis hardened from the sensations, pressing uncomfortably against the tight, wet fabric of the thermal underwear beneath his already slim-cut uniform pants, Spock began to realise he had an even greater problem. The uniform pants closed with buttons -- very small buttons.
"Ah, captain? I believe I have discovered something else, with which I require your assistance." Spock held up his hands, looking grimly at his captain over them. "I cannot open my pants. I anticipate wearing a traditional robe, until the swelling subsides, but I cannot get out of my pants, now, to make that a viable option."
A smirk crept across Kirk's face. "You won't let me touch your fingers, but I should help you with your pants? That's a new one."
"My fingers were painful, captain. There is no part of my anatomy, covered by my pants, that is currently experiencing that level of discomfort." The faint green flush on his cheeks was hidden by the tint his face had taken from the cold.
Kirk's face shifted, slightly, suspicions beginning to dawn in the back of his mind. "Your fingers must have hurt quite a bit," he commented, leaning forward, to tackle the buttons on Spock's trousers.
And other suspicions became vivid realities, in Spock's mind, as his foot came to rest against the captain's very warm erection, through the damp fabric of the thermal pants. Kirk's fingers lingered just a little too long on the buttons, as if studying the tension in the fabric.
Spock's eyes closed, and he reached for his captain's hand, stilling it, as he tipped his hips just slightly, allowing his waiting erection to swell into the space cleared by the open buttons, distorting the thermal fabric still in its path. In silent comment, he rubbed his toes against the hardness in Kirk's pants.
Kirk knew he'd been caught, and Spock knew he knew, by the slightly discomfited look that slid back into the usual arrogance.
"Looks like your hands aren't the only things swollen. Need some help warming that back into operation, too?" Kirk joked.
"Quite the contrary, Captain. I think you'll find that to be the warmest skin on my body at this, or any other time." Spock's eyebrows arced up, blandly, conveying absolutely nothing, as he attempted to decide whether to push his luck.
"Hm, maybe I should be warming myself against it, then." The captain was inevitably incorrigible.
"I will only suggest that you warm your hands to at least room temperature before attempting to insert them in my pants. I would hate to reflexively break your wrists." Spock's voice was exquisitely dry and faintly droll. "I have no fondness for the cold, Captain."
Kirk grinned, sliding one hand up the back of Spock's shirt, earning a thin hiss from his first officer. "Then I'll just have to start warming my hands on cooler skin, first."
Spock hooked his thumbs into the hem of his shirt, closing his eyes as his jaw twitched at the sensation. In one relatively elegant movement, he stripped the shirt off, cracking both shoulders and one elbow, before dropping it to the bathroom floor. His entire body still ached, dully, and he'd begun to sweat as his body temperature recovered, but Spock found himself willing to ignore these things, if his captain was willing to keep touching him. Completely irrational, yes, but extreme circumstances tended to have that effect on him. He was certain he'd be fine in a few hours.
In the mean time, Kirk's cool hands slid over his chest, as if counting the ribs beneath his skin.
"Thirty," Spock commented, with a faint smirk. "Fifteen pair."
It took Kirk several seconds to determine what the hell the Vulcan was talking about. "I wasn't counting! I was ... enjoying."
"I see." One eyebrow arced, and Spock's foot shifted, tucking his toes beneath the captain, as he rose up, balancing himself on the edge of the toilet with one foot as he braced a wrist against the ceiling. With the other hand he tugged at his sopping uniform trousers, attempting to slide them over his narrow hips without removing the thermals, beneath, in the process.
"This is not proceeding as intended," Spock quipped, realising that one severely swollen hand was not going to be enough to get the job done.
Kirk grinned up at him. "You're doing it wrong."
With no further warning, Kirk reached up, grabbing the waistband of both the trousers and the thermals beneath, and yanked straight down, twisting his hands to avoid catching on anything vital. Spock's hot-skinned, green-tinged, slightly less stiff than five minutes prior erection bobbed free, coming to rest against the tip of Kirk's nose.
"And now I'm doing it wrong," Kirk muttered, cross-eyed.
The captain's hands closed around Spock's hips, tightly, and Kirk's tongue traced along the underside of his flagging erection. Spock shuddered, slightly, as his captain's mouth slid around the tip of his cock.
"Captain," Spock started.
"Hmm?" Kirk responded around a mouthful of Vulcan cock, as he turned his eyes up, to see what Spock wanted.
In that moment, Spock was exceedingly glad for the captain's foresight in holding his hips, because he completely lost his balance. Kirk's arms tensed and trembled as Spock reeled, loose foot slamming into place against the edge of the sink counter as his lean body arced back over the sink, itself, coming to rest at last with the top of his head pressed against the opposite side of the counter. His body formed an exquisitely artful arch, as reflected in the mirror panel on the side wall, but Spock could hardly concern himself with that, since his pelvic arch had made sudden and forceful contact with the captain's ... nose, he thought. The point was that his captain had taken the sudden shift to deep-throating without so much as a flinch, as far as Spock could tell. He felt Kirk's breath rasping past the head of his cock with relative calmness.
Kirk was, if nothing else, incredibly smooth. And for once, Spock was ready to give him that point.
However, none of that changed the appallingly awkward position they were in. Spock tried to put his mind to work on how to get out of that position without injuring himself or his captain, but Kirk had other ideas, having leaned back to more easily resume sucking and licking the significantly more intent erection in his mouth.
Spock braced his forearms against the counter, knowing the captain wouldn't stop sucking to answer him. "I am going to assume you are unharmed, Captain?"
"Mm-hmm," Kirk responded, and Spock felt it more than heard it. "Mmm?"
It took a few seconds for Spock to get an answer out. "Yes, Captain. My condition is little worse than it was before. However, this in no way alters the fact that I cannot get up, unless you release my hips."
There is a grunt of amusement from the vicinity of his crotch, and Spock realises it's going to be quite a while before he extracts himself from this position. With a small sigh, he adjusts his elbows to take some of the weight off his neck. The shift in weight must have been what the captain was waiting for, because suddenly the sucking isn't just distracting, it is the whole of Spock's consciousness.
"Jim --" he gasps, and in that one syllable is every filthy desire he'd ever need a mind-meld to communicate, because sometimes words just aren't enough.