With one week left before Jim’s Vulcan citizenship would be made permanent, Admiral Komack came aboard to, as he put it, “settle this once and for all,” and while Spock was not in any way concerned that his husband would be removed from duty, it did bring him other concerns.
“I don’t like the way he looks at us,” Jim murmured to him, leisurely running his hand over Spock’s chest. The bed shifted under them as Jim turned slightly to palm the Vulcan through his trousers. Despite the increasing difficulty in concentrating, Spock indicated as best he could that he echoed the sentiment, after which he immediately set about exploring the gently rounded shell of Jim’s ear with his tongue, indulging in the exotic taste and shape of his mate.
Jim stretched out under him, hands working the fastenings of Spock’s slacks. “Don’t like the way he looks at you, either,” he said, working the zipper down. Spock lifted his hips off Jim’s so the final article of clothing on either of them might be removed, finally sinking down onto that firm body. “Don’t like him being here. Don’t want him on the ship.”
“I concur,” Spock managed, feeling Jim’s fingers slowly working their way in. He rocked gently above him, admiring the pink flush to his skin. He did not believe it would ever cease to be so exotic to him. “I find his presence…detrimental to…many activities aboard the Enterprise.”
No instructions needed to be given when Jim’s fingers slipped from Spock’s body, and in the gentle heat consuming them, no questions needed to be asked of either of them. Spock carefully guided Jim into his body, leaning back and working himself down on his mate. The small grunts the human gave were more than enough to distract him from the slight pain that had to be endured before they truly began. Once comfortable, he set about a slow, gentle rhythm.
“Not detrimental to this activity,” Jim groaned out, eyes closing briefly before meeting again with Spock’s. “Just…think. He’s three doors down. Sleeping alone. Nnngh. Probably plotting…my downfall…”
Spock shivered. “Indeed,” he breathed. Amusement filtered through the bond along with Jim’s intense arousal, and he increased his pace just slightly. He could feel all of his mate – his body, his mind, his emotion – and it taxed his endurance heavily. “He does have an…illogical bias…against your captaincy--!”
The last half of the sentence escaped as a gasp as Jim bucked up quite suddenly and came inside him, the warm fluid coating his insides. And although Spock had not quite orgasmed yet, the sensation of fulfillment that spread through him was, in some ways, even more pleasing than that.
Jim seemed to think otherwise, though, and he urged Spock to lift off him, flipping them so the Vulcan was on his back on the sheets. The captain dove right in, mouth wrapping around him and moving with all the skill Spock knew him to possess, bringing him to his peak in what could not have been more than thirty seconds. He arched into Jim’s mouth, body tensing, and then fell back to the bed, feeling distinctly boneless.
His husband laid at his side, one hand on his abdomen. “So, was that adequate, Mr. Spock?”
“I believe so,” he replied, shifting onto his side and brushing his fingers against Jim’s. He fought the powerful urge to slip from bed to bathe. “Did you find it enjoyable?”
“Always,” Jim murmured, pulling him closer. Contentment emanated powerfully through the bond. “McCoy tomorrow?”
