Work Text:
Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the I.S.S. Starship Enterprise places his hands on his hips and gives a sour farewell glance to the rotten stink-flower jungle of Thelx-suck his dick. No civilization to conquer in the name of the Empire, no ruins to sift through for loot, nothing but a boring-ass cave with a couple of phallic pillars. The Lieutenant who first brought him the news of the Enterprise acquiring that beacon’s signal has a nice cozy session in the agony booth to look forward to. Maybe that will teach his crew not to waste his time with wild goose chases.
A high-pitched shrieking sounds from off in the distance, then is abruptly cut off. Nothing but a boring-ass cave, a couple of phallic pillars, and a rotten stink-flower jungle infested with opportunistic dinosaur-like predators.
Security Officer Branson sidles up to Kirk and says in his oily way, “It seems the perimeter scouting party has run afoul of the planet’s predators again, sir.”
Kirk snorts dismissively and waves Branson away irritatedly. “If they weren’t prepared to use their damn phasers, they shouldn’t have enlisted in the Imperial Fleet in the first place,” he says dismissively. “Leave them.”
“Spock!” Kirk barks at his first officer, who is prowling around the area on their little chunk of hillside. “Tell Lt. Commander Scott I want us beamed out of here.”
Spock’s long, thin tail whips through the air like a scythe as he turns to face his captain. “I have not completed my collection on the requisite data to form a biological profile for the carnivorous bipeds inhabiting this jungle,” he says in his prissy Vulcan way.
Another scream filters through the trees before trailing away to nothing. Spock’s ears prick and he looks down at the readout from his tricorder avidly. His tail does those excited stabby motions towards the ground it makes when Spock is particularly stimulated by the data he is receiving.
Kirk rolls his eyes. “Fine, stay, collect your data, spend as long as you like, I don’t give a shit. But I’m beaming out, having a shower, a deservedly relaxing fuck, and then the Enterprise is leaving, with or without you.”
Osssolo slithers up to Spock. "Security Officer Vasquez and Third Science Officer Buffalo have been consumed by the local fauna, Commander. However, this one has retrieved the data sets from their tricorders."
Spock's eyes flash and then his face is smooth Vulcan stoicism once more. "Show me," he says to Osssolo, and then the two of them have their heads bent over Osssolo's tricorder, hissing back and forth in what Kirk can only assume is Osssolo's native language.
Kirk crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot impatiently. “Spock,” he says, a warning in his voice. “My beam out.”
Spock’s ear flicks towards him and away, and he continues on with his conversation, supremely unconcerned. Kirk grinds his teeth.
The obsequious Branson pipes up. “I will be happy to call the beam-out for you, Captain,” he says and fumbles with his communicator.
It happens in a flash, though anyone with half a brain could have predicted it. In one fluid movement Spock covers the ground between him and Branson, and swipes his claws forward, opening up Branson's neck. Arterial spray gushes from the hapless security officer’s neck as he gurgles, his eyes widening in shock. He brings a hand up, futilely trying to stem the spray of his own blood. The communicator drops from his other hand to the ground. He falls to his knees, then collapses on his side.
Kirk shifts to the side, moving his boots out of the way of the last spurts of blood from Branson's neck.
He glares at his first officer, who stands coolly off to the side, calmly cleaning the blood from his lethal claws (painted galaxy black) with dexterous swipes of his tongue.
Kirk glares at him, but Spock is as unconcerned as a cat going about his business–Kirk and the Empire be damned. His gaze is momentarily distracted by the glint of gold on the tip of Spock’s tail, his Vulcan piercing catching the light of the sun as his tail waves sinuously back and forth through the air behind him. Kirk gives himself a shake and addresses the matter at hand.
“Unbelievable,” he says, snapping his eyes back to Spock’s placid face. “I literally cannot pay you to do your job, but God-forbid someone else tries to do your duties for you, or you throw a Vulcan snit.”
Spock’s gaze snaps to his, and his eyes, framed by dramatic kohl, glitter. They glare at each other, neither willing to be the first to submit.
Six months of this. This Vulcan shenaniganting around.
Kirk's ascension could not have been more meticulously planned or more flawlessly executed. Take care of Pike. Check. Take care of Una. Check. Insert that opportunistic weasel, Gary Mitchell as his first officer? Check. Kirk was all set to secure his primacy by foiling Gary's pathetic attempts to overthrow him with ease, installing terror and awe into the hearts and minds of his subordinates. Then that idiot had to go on some kind of bizarre god-trip psychosis, and force Jim to gank him, without ceremony, a whole five months before his scheduled demise. It threw off Jim's entire five-year plan. And in the vacuum, High Command bestowed upon him: Spock.
Vulcan Spock with his pert little ass and that slinky tail just made for grabbing. Terrifyingly competent Spock with his kitty bow mouth. Annoyingly not terrified of Kirk Spock, with his sultry kohl-framed eyes and immaculate razor nails.
Always flouting him just on the safe side of insubordination. Flawless Spock who refuses to make even the tiniest mistake. Ever. Kirk orders this-Spock does it that way, which then works out better for Kirk, so he can't comment, or his image will suffer. On top of all that, Spock refuses to be caught plotting against Kirk to take his command. Kirk’s rooted out fourteen different assassination attempts and command overthrows since he assumed the Captaincy (as it were). Spock has not been involved in a single one. And not in a ‘too good to be caught way’. No. As in an actual, ‘couldn’t give a shit’ kind of way. Kirk came prepared to engage in an epic struggle for supremacy and Spock can’t even give him the satisfaction of even pretending to make an effort.
A roar from the jungle jerks him away from his thoughts and both he and Spock snap their heads to the direction it sounded from. That sounded really big. And close.
“Are we beaming out together, or am I having Mr. Scott leave you here for the evening?” Kirk asks Spock sweetly.
For a moment Spock quivers, and he looks about two seconds away from taking up Kirk’s challenge, bounding up into the trees, and going completely feral. Then he suppresses it, and says in his Vulcan bitch-voice, “Having foiled the assassination attempt by Security Officer Branson, certainly now it is safe to call for beam out.”
Kirk bites back a curse and roots around through the foliage on the ground for Branson’s dropped communicator as Spock pulls out his own and hails the Enterprise.
His hands close around it and he holds it up to the fading light for inspection. Son of a bitch. A signal disrupter, taped to the underside. He wishes he could accuse Spock of just getting lucky but they both know better. Spock, as always, is in the know, and has acted upon the information in the precise way for a maximum positive outcome, for Spock.
He banishes his resentment and gives Spock one of his legendary 'come get well-fucked' smiles. “See me in my quarters for the dispensation of your bounty for foiling the attempt, Mr. Spock,” he purrs. In lieu of an actionable plan for dealing with Spock, Kirk has been forced into default flirt mode. With a Vulcan. This was for sure not what those Imperial recruiting brochures promised.
A chink draws Kirk’s attention to Spock’s tail, but whatever movement had caused the dangling piercing to chime against itself has stilled already.
“Energize.” Spock says into the communicator. The gold of teleportation wraps around Spock, Kirk, and Osssolo. Kirk blinks.
And opens his eyes not to the sight of the advanced, cutting edge teleporter room on his ship, but a domed metal ceiling.
Great, beam-napped. Again.
"Welcome," a feminine voice says to his left. As he turns his head to look, he becomes aware that he is suspended on his back in the air, and he's completely naked. God, being so gorgeous is such a burden sometimes. The owner of the voice is an exquisite-looking woman. A paragon of feminine wiles, if Kirk's ever seen one, and so Kirk gives her an obvious once-over, letting his appreciation for her feminine charms reveal itself in a lazy grin.
"Hey," he says. "Like what you see?" He flexes his hips, though whatever force is holding him doesn't allow for a full range of movement.
She pouts. "You look so pleasing, but your base physiology is so fragile! You won't last at all!"
Oh hell to the no she did not. Nobody insults his sexual stamina. Nobody. Bitch has got to die now. Kirk gives her a smile he saves for special occasions. Nobody has lived to talk about it to add to his legend, which is a shame. It hasn't failed him yet. It worked on Pike. It even worked on that fool Gary in the end.
She licks her lips. Oh yeah. He has her.
The air shimmers around him, like heat on the horizon. He swallows, his mouth gone dry. He's…hot and fucking horny like…fuck! Kirk is pretty much always horny but this is another level of horny. He needs to fuck like now. Fuck–she's like…sex beamed him or something.
He sighs.
Gonna be one of those days. He’s failed, once again, to bring Spock to heel, and now he's being alien sex-dungeoned. That’s the third time this month. He hisses. Fuck him, but he's feeling it though. What did she hit him with?
His cock is so stiff it points straight at the ceiling.
"Well, you think I won't last, and I think I will, why don't you come see which of us is right?" He propositions her. It's not his most elegant salvo, but he needs to fuck. His hips twitch, his cock cutting futilely in the air. The sooner he fucks her, the sooner he can get off, and the sooner he can off her, and thus the sooner he can get out of here and deal with that damn Spock.
"Yes," she croons at him, palming her own breasts as she steps up to the platform.
His body is lowered down to the height of her knees, and she lifts up her dress, revealing standard looking human-style cunt. Her hand drifts down to work her fingers furiously on her clit, and moisture drips down between her legs. Oh his cock wants in that. Oh yes. He's unable to stifle a groan.
Her perfect face is looking a little strained. She gives a couple of deep, guttural grunts. Not very ladylike at all. She swings a leg over him and begins to squat.
Kirk blinks. Wait. Are those…ridges forming on her neck?
Also…were her fingers double jointed before?
When her tits start sagging Kirk calls it. He’s out. He does have some standards, thank you.
"Spock," he calls out, and with a supreme amount of effort, even manages to make himself sound bored. Kirk's brain may be thinking twice about what's on offer here, but his cock is not nearly so discerning.
Spock strides into the room. Jackpot. Kirk's not a Vulcan, but he figured the odds were good Spock had tracked him down by now and was lurking somewhere close by. Because, for whatever reason, Spock does seem invested in Jim's continued life, even if it may be only to torture him with his own special brand of Vulcan bitchiness. The alien woman is slow to react to his first officer's appearance, absorbed in trying to lower her slimy looking cunt onto his cock.
Spock reaches out, claws first, but instead of her slumping to the ground with an arterial spray (a la Branson), or with her head twisted 360 degrees on her neck (if Spock should happen to be in a bone crunching sort of mood), she shrieks, and waves an arm at Spock, who appears to be then frozen by the same technology that has Kirk, his claws an inch from her neck.
Kirk gives him a sour, unimpressed glance. Damn that Vulcan and his obsession with hands-on killing. If he’d just use his phaser, they’d never be in half these damn situations.
“MIND DELVER!” she shrieks, not looking so womanly or charming anymore. Her face bulges, the points of her elbows lengthen out into sharp blades that slice through the fabric of her sleeves. Kirk glances down and sees her feet are lumps ending in gnarled claws, poking out from under her dress. Her hair, which had been lustrous and full when Kirk had blinked awake in the room, is now wispy and thin. She's balding fast.
“YOU WILL BE PUNISHED!” She screams, and Kirk winces. That was nails on a chalkboard level of offensive.
She waves her arm, and Spock’s clothes are just…gone. Kirk looks with a sort of professional curiosity and a not insubstantial sexual curiosity at what Spock's sporting between his legs. He’s always wondered. He takes in the long cock, quiescent, tracing the shape of it where it curves under and disappears back inside of Spock’s body. His own cock twitches, so hard and unfulfilled it's turning purple.
“I always knew you were a cunt,” Kirk informs his first officer cheerfully, even as he salivates at the fascinating cock, the pale skin and sleek muscles on display before him.
Kirk is then the recipient of a fantastic Vulcan death glare.
The alien…whatever she is, staggers back, away from her position over Kirk, and waves her arms again, flailing, a pair of pointed horns rising out from the top of her head. She also appears to be… full body moistening. Her dress is little more than scraps at this point, hanging in tatters from this or that protrusion.
Spock is suddenly floating in the air a foot or so above Kirk, still naked, and his tail, without ceremony, is already slithering down around Kirk’s aching cock.
"Fuck," Kirk yelps and his hips begin to thrust, desperate to get his cock more delicious friction, as Spock’s gold Vulcan piercing knocks against his cock head forcing a ‘fffff’ out of Kirk every time it smacks against him.
The air shimmers around Spock, like it had around Kirk earlier, and he isn’t surprised to hear a full-bodied, surprised-sounding moan come out of Spock above him.
Spock groans again and the creature cackles and dances, misshapen, grotesque, a sickly grey color all over. Nope. Definitely moist. Moving into mucus territory. If that thing tries to climb onto his cock again and forces Kirk to fuck it, all of the mind-rewriting experimental surgeries in McCoy’s book won’t be able to repair his brain from the physic damage he’ll take.
She continues dancing around, awkwardly waving her arms about in the air.
Spock’s arms reach down and his hands spread his cheeks wide, exposing his green Vulcan taint, and treats Kirk to the sight of his now swollen Vulcan cock thrusting back and forth inside himself.
“Spock,” Kirk grunts, seeing where she's going with this, "if you can prepare your ass in any way, you better do it now." Some guys get off on it, but Kirk is personally not a fan of the dry fuck.
Spock's tail has some leeway that the rest of their limbs don't seem to, and leaves off of Kirk’s dick and delves immediately inside his own asshole. After a few seconds, Kirk hears a slight squelching, and clear lubrication begins to drip down onto his oversensitive cock, forcing a shout of surprise out of him. Okay, that's hot, unfairly hot, at this point. Self-lubricating asshole, oh fuck yes.
He doesn't have long to contemplate these new sexual revelations, because Kirk’s body is manipulated upwards, his cock shoving the tip of the tail out of the way as Spock manages to pull it out just in time. Kirk's hips rise up, seeking the dripping hole before him and then Spock is speared on Kirk’s aching dick. Oh fuck that’s tight. His eyes roll almost to the back of his head. Holy shit, he can feel what Spock is doing to himself in that prim little Vulcan cunt he has, all the thrusting and twisting and stabbing that his cock is doing.
"Oh fuck," Kirk shouts.
Instinctively, he reaches up, and is allowed to put his hands around Spock's hips and hold tight as he thrusts his own hips up into the slick tightness of Spock's ass. Kirk's heart is knocking against his chest so hard he can feel it, and sweat is stinging his eyes. He works his hips harder with a snarl, desperate to be deeper inside, his cock aching, needing it.
After a few more glorious thrusts, Kirk bottoms out, and his cock knocks against something spongy and plump.
Spock cries out at that, "My chenesi!"
"Ohhhh," Kirk gasps out, "is that what you’re stimulating in there with all that self-fucking?”
Kirk groans as his hips thrust his cock again and again against that spongy plumpness, the pleasure on his cock head causing starbursts behind his eyes, and if the noises Spock is making are anything to go by, doing about the same to him.
"Double stuffed, you must really be feeling it now," Kirk grunts.
In answer, Spock’s tail flails and flaps around Kirk’s stomach, up around his chest, then to his shoulders.
"Absolutely not, don't you dare," Kirk warns. Of course, Spock wraps his tail around Kirk's neck anyway.
Never mind that Kirk has fantasized about Spock's tail doing this to him a time or twenty. The important thing was Spock didn't know about how Kirk feels about that tail strangling him. Goddammit. That’s going to be setting a bad precedent for the power dynamic between them.
Spock tightens his tail, just enough to slightly impede Kirk's breathing. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck him, yes.
Being as occupied as he is, he's been ignoring the bitchmonster standing off to the side, but she rudely inserts herself back into the forefront of his attention by shoving a hand into the gash between her legs and then shrieking in her god-awful voice and coming, unleashing a spray of foul yellowish discharge that spatters on the ground.
"Oh gross!" Kirk shouts. Oh that’s nasty, that's foul, it should be an instant boner killer, but his cock is just as hard as ever and still enjoying extremely its plundering of Spock’s tight little Vulcan ass.
With a sheer force of will, Kirk blocks her out where she continues to garble and spasm and spew out foul alien spunk from between her legs. He carefully selects a catchy tune from the last few years–(the strangely appropriate) 'I fucked a Vulcan and I liked it’ by Ferengi Pop Star Peeboop Bangarz.
Fucking Spock. It's pretty fucking amazing if he's being honest. Like, his cock would be excited about whatever kind of ride it got at this point, but it's getting what Kirk has to categorize as a primo luxury ride. Not hot inside Spock by any means, but not frigid either the way everyone always goes on about. What his hole lacks in heat it well makes up for in tightness, and slickness, and stimulation. Kirk's cock is alternately being smacked by Spock's cock as it continues to plunge frenziedly inside him, and the delightful sensation of his cock head battering what he thinks is either Spock's prostate or his ball sack.
Fuck he just wants to come, but he can't–he just won't for some reason. She-who-will-not-be-thought-about must have something to do with it. Spock's tail flexes around his neck, and he's unable to stop himself from stretching into it, luxuriating in the unyielding grip. Damnit. His hips work harder, driving up into Spock, the smack of their flesh an amazing sound that he selectively allows to penetrate the song he's playing on loop in his head.
Then something wet drips on his cheek and he jerks his head, horrified that the cuntmonster has splashed her gunk onto him. Liquid slides into the corner of his mouth and he wonders if her control over his body will extend to her keeping him from projectile vomiting, but then he tastes the salt.
He ponders this for a few more thrusts.
"Spock, are you crying?" Is all he can think to ask, choking it out around the grip Spock's tail has on his neck.
He expects Vulcan denial.
He gets Spock sobbing an answer instead. “She is so disgusting, Captain.”
Well, Kirk can’t argue with that.
“Vulcan memories are eidetic, I shall be forced to relive this memory forever,” Spock sobs out again.
“Get McCoy to wipe it out,” he grunts, sorry he asked now, trying to focus back on the slide of his cock in and out of Spock's hole.
“McCoy’s pathetic fumblings do not work on Vulcans,” Spock just about screeches.
Oh yeah, Kirk may recall that Spock’s mentioned that one or two hundred times by now.
God, forced to relive every detail of that hag and her nasty chain cumming? Kirk is marching straight in for a tune up after all this is over, though he will have McCoy finesse it a little and just erase the hag. The being inside Spock’s ass parts are something he wants to save for the spank bank.
Kirk sighs, grudgingly moved to a rare feeling of compassion. Imagine getting the fucking of your life from the great Captain Kirk, but having that creature assaulting you with peak nastiness each time you go to relive the memory. Damn.
"There, there," Kirk croaks out around the tail, "close your eyes." He reaches forward, and his hand is allowed to travel between Spock's legs to rub on the outside of his cock to give him some pity stimulation.
“Your attempts to remedy the situation are noted, but I can still hear her captain,” Spock says, even though he starts wriggling his hips once Kirk's hand is on the outside of his cock.
Kirk pauses the song in his head and checks back into the status of the cuntmonster. He hears, 'grunt grunt gruntgruntwheeze', and then more splattering on the floor. Oh sweet Imperial tax collectors, fuck it’s…chunky-sounding now.
Kirk immediately focuses back on the sound of his flesh slapping against Spock’s pert ass and the squelching of his cock as Kirk fucks him, and mentally starts up ‘I fucked a Vulcan and I liked it’ again in his head.
Vulcans are so sensitive to outside stimuli, Spock probably can’t not hear. Damn it. Kirk sighs, and removes his hands from Spock’s thrashing cock, which he was enjoying getting to prod and play with, and grabs Spock once more around the hips and makes like he wants to pull him down closer so he can fuck him harder, which he’s pretty sure she’ll allow. She does, and then, once Spock is pulled flush against him, and before he can drown Kirk with his poor overstimulated weird-ass Vulcan/human hybrid tears, Kirk reaches up and cups his hands over Spock’s ears, and presses tight against them, sealing out sound as best he can.
Something like a besotted sigh escapes from Spock, and his body goes all liquid and pliant against Kirk’s. Thrusting up into pliant Vulcan doesn’t sound all that great on paper, but in practice is fucking amazing.
“Come, come, come!” The cunt creature shrieks, breaking through his own attempts at pretending she doesn’t exist, and then there’s some more awful liquid noises and then a very unsettling ‘splat’ sound. Spock’s body shivers over him, and not in the sexy-good way.
“Don’t look, Spock” he orders (probably unnecessarily).
"Come, come, come!" she shrieks again, her voice drilling straight into his skull.
And then–oh shit, oh shit, he’s coming. Fuck, fuck! Less than ideal circumstances aside, dumping his load deep into Spock's ass as he feels the Vulcan cock flex and come through his internal walls is fucking hot. Kirk imagines he can almost feel the gush of it.
The bitchmonster makes a truly heinous gargling sigh of contentment, and against his better judgment, Kirk flicks his eyes over to see her hideous form slump down next to the pillars, a misshapen, oozing blob with sharp spiky bits poking out of it every which way. Gross.
Spock gasps above him, and the cunt creature jerks against the pillar and cries out, "No!"
Kirk blinks. Spock is gone from the air above him, leaving Kirk's poor drenched cock to wilt as it's chilled by the empty air. Kirk tries to flail free in surprise, but he's still caught tight in the alien force.
He blinks again, and Spock is standing, still naked, off to the side of the platform. As Kirk watches, Spock waves his arm, and then the cunt creature is gone. One second struggling to her feet, the next, poof. Then Kirk drops like a stone from the air and impacts onto the platform with a bone-rattling smack.
“Ow, Spock, goddammit,” he wheezes "what the hell?”
“The alien controls are telepathy based,” Spock says. And if Kirk didn't know any better, he'd say Spock sounds almost triumphant. “She relaxed her control, and as her mental abilities are almost non-existent, I easily seized administrator privileges from her.”
Kirk maneuvers himself into a sitting position. “Where the hell is she?”
"Out in the jungle," Spock responds. No, it's not Kirk's imagination, there's no way that isn't smugness in Spock's tone.
Then he processes Spock's answer. “What?! What if she’s too nasty for those dinosaur things to eat?” Kirk scrambles to his feet.
“They are not dinosaur-”
Kirk interrupts Spock's Vulcan pedantry with, "I want her dead. Dead dead. Confirmed dead. Bring her back and let's kill her, make sure of it," he snarls.
Spock crosses his arms over his chest. "I am not touching her," he says serenely.
This is all Spock’s fault to begin with, because, if he'd just shot her with his damn phaser when he'd had the chance, they wouldn’t be here now. But, no, Spock had to get all fancy and play with his food about it. But Kirk supposes Spock did come down here to rescue him, and maybe the memories of her foul, seeping form are punishment enough.
“Well give me my phaser back, then,” he orders.
Kirk blinks. Spock is clothed and Kirk holds his phaser. He’s still naked though, he notes sourly.
“She will materialize back here in three, two, one,” Spock counts down, then flicks his fingers calmly.
A chunk of what Kirk would have to describe as her shoulder and part of her neck (if pressed to identify) lands in a splatter of gore and viscera on the floor between Kirk and Spock.
"Nope," Kirk says, "they ate her after all."
With a look of Vulcan superiority, Spock flicks his fingers, and just like that, all of her chunks and bits and slimy whatevers are gone.
Kirk locks eyes with Spock and then glances down at his still naked body with a pointed look.
As if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, Spock says, “Your clothes are beyond my ability to retrieve, Captain, I do not know where she sent them." His dark, kohl-lined eyes brazenly ogle Kirk’s nakedness.
Kirk's ass Spock can't get Kirk's clothes back. But since all Spock has to do to secure the captaincy for himself is snap his fingers, apparently, Kirk is willing to let the matter drop.
"Let me guess," he says, switching subjects, "the ‘riches’ that beacon was bleating on about, you can't retrieve those either?"
“The 'riches', in fact appear to be a repository of literary works, from the galaxy of 5,000 years before. Much of it is corrupted, but there are still salvageable portions. It would seem there may even be a salvageable copy of the Andorian epic, 'The Eight of Us'."
“Ugh, you nerd, fine, download it if you wish.”
“Shall I also send copies to your account for your personal-”
“Yes,” Kirk cuts him off.
“Very well," Spock nods and concentrates for a moment, then reports, "it is done."
Fantastic. "Come on," Kirk says, "let's get out of here."
"You are aware that above us, dinosaurs still roam the earth?" Spock says.
Kirk gapes at him. "She didn’t screw up your Vulcan brain, did she?" Kirk asks, slightly concerned. His Vulcan first officer is a pain in the ass, but he’s Kirk’s pain in the ass and Kirk prefers him in working order when all is said and done.
“It was a 21st Terran pop culture reference,” Spock says stiffly.
“Ew 21st century, so cringe, only you, Spock,” Kirk says, relieved.
Spock lets out a huff, that if accused, he would likely try and claim is not one of irritation.
Kirk grins and struts in front of him, heading to the opening that Spock had entered from, putting some well-fucked sway into his hips. Which isn’t hard, Spock is a spectacular lay, Kirk will definitely have to tap that again.
Spock declines to either walk at Kirk's side or take the lead, preferring to direct Kirk out of the metal tunnels from behind. Kirk grins unashamedly. It's always nice to be appreciated. They exit the metal areas and climb back up to that boring-ass glow cavern.
Kirk calculates swiftly. Well within range for the teleporter. "Guess we’ll call for beam-out here," he shrugs, coming to a stop. “Last chance to give me back my clothes.” His tone implies that Vulcans who comply with his orders will be well rewarded.
"Even if you were clothed in your pants, they could not possibly disguise your current erection," Spock says with a bitchy eyebrow raise, walking up to stand next to him.
Kirk looks down. Damn. Hard as a rock again. He shivers with lust. Looks like he's still affected by her alien sex-beam.
He looks back over to Spock, who is naked once more. He rolls his eyes as Spock says primly. “I too, am still experiencing effects.”
“Logical to fuck it out of each other, blah blah blah, I suppose?”
Spock responds with another eyebrow raise, and a simple, "Indeed."
"Fine," Kirk says. "But no ass this time, I want to see what it’s like inside that Vulcan cunt of yours."
“Captain!” Spock protests. “The lok-mesklam is for lok storage and testicle maintenance, only! Others do not fuck it!”
Spock's protest is undercut, however, by already bending over as he says it, bracing his arms on the nearest cave wall and spreading his legs. Kirk fists himself as Spock's tail reaches up to curl around his pistoning Vulcan cock and pull it out of himself to make way for Kirk. Looks like Spock was really enjoying himself walking behind Kirk the whole time.
Kirk steps up and gives that pert little Vulcan ass a slap on the cheek. Oh yeah, he is really in the mood to ride this some more. He grabs onto the base of Spock’s tail, twisting the length of it around his palm a few times and, without ceremony, shoves his cock inside Spock’s ‘lok storage’ area.
Spock garbles out something Kirk doesn't catch (likely his native tongue) and a stream of liquid patters onto the stone at Spock’s feet.
The hole Kirk's just shoved inside sucks and grasps his cock and he groans as he seats himself deeper inside.
"Fucking hell!" Kirk shouts, and begins to pound into Spock “did you just piss yourself?”
“Oh, ah, oh!” Spock cries in time with Kirk's thrusts. "Vulcan semen is extremely liquid compared with Terran samples!” Oh. Spock came. Oh well.
"If you wish, I shall urinate for you later, so you can appreciate the difference," Spock grunts out between thrusts. Kirk may take him up on that.
He settles in for a nice fuck, using his grip on Spock's tail to pull him onto his cock when he thrusts forward, and uses his free hand to slap the tight little globes of Spock's ass every so often.
Spock's nails scrape down the cave wall in front of him leaving grooves in the faded ancient carvings. “Ffffuck me harder!" He demands.
His hole clenches and sucks on Kirk, gobbling him down.
“I take back everything I’ve ever said about Vulcans, Spock!” Kirk gets out in between thrusts, giving it to Spock harder, his cock feeling like it's died and gone to heaven. “I could fuck this every day for the rest of my life.”
“Do.”
“You.”
“Promise?” Spock gets out in staccato bursts.
"Good first officers who do as their captain asks should be rewarded, don’t you think?" Kirk responds, panting with effort.
Which gives Kirk an idea.
"Take that long prick of yours and stick it in your ass. Fuck yourself there," he grunts.
“T-t-that is not done either,” Spock says as he reaches down between his legs and threads his long Vulcan cock around Kirk’s where he continues to thrust inside him unabated, and as Kirk avidly watches, presses it into his own asshole.
"Oh yeah, that’s the shit, oh fuck that’s really, really, good," Kirk moans as his eyes once more threaten to roll all the way back into his head. He releases his grip on Spock's tail, and grips Spock at the shoulder and around the waist, pulling him tight against him. The feeling from the other side as Spock's cock works in and out of himself is almost indescribable. It's fucking orgasmic, but he doesn’t orgasm. Kirk begins to have the suspicion that Spock may be interfering to make Kirk last somehow, but he can't find it in him to care. He could fuck this forever.
Spock's tail slithers up between his legs, wriggling around first at his 'lok' hole and then at his asshole, as if he wants to insert it inside one or the other, but ultimately doesn't. Kirk finds out why as the tail slithers further up between his legs, and feels the now slick tip begin to prod at his own asshole. He widens his stance in invitation. Slowly, the tip of Spock's tail begins to work itself inside of Kirk.
"Oh ffffuck," he groans, the heady knowledge that he's about to be fucking and fucked to mirror the way Spock is fucking and being fucked turning him on even more, which shouldn't even be possible, but here they are. Kirk fucks into Spock harder, faster, as the tip of Spock's tail wriggles deeper inside, pressing, seeking, and he feels the cold metal shape of the Vulcan piercing enter inside him as well.
"Yessss, Spock," he groans. Then the tip rotates and the curve of the half spade head, (which Kirk discovers is the absolute perfect shape) is pressed flush right against his prostate.
Oh fuck this may be the fuck of his fucking life.
“I'm gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, oh fuck," he grits out between clenched teeth.
His body has taken over completely, and he fucks Spock faster, gulping in huge breaths, his muscles burning. It all works in tandem, bringing him there like watching an explosion on the horizon, and waiting for the blast wave to arrive.
He pulls Spock even more forcefully against him, and moves his hand from Spock's shoulder to shove his fingers into Spock’s mouth, just so Spock can be plugged in every hole, fully mastered by Jim Kirk, his captain.
“Mmphh!” Spock moans around his fingers, “mmmmph!!” He sucks and twines his tongue around them, giving Kirk a preview of his cock-sucking ability.
Slick coats Kirk’s cock anew, and he looks down to see clear liquid spilling from Spock’s asshole, and realizes that Spock is coming inside himself again, this time spraying his seed right up against his own internal (Kirk thinks) ball sack, drenching Kirk’s cock as he fucks it right back inside of Spock.
Kirk naturally gets his own cum on his balls all the time, but something about Spock’s balls being (probably) internal makes it really fucking sexy to have it spill and drip down his balls as they draw up tight against him.
"Argh!" He cries out and thrusts once, twice, rocking Spock’s whole body, and empties himself inside of Spock. He thought it would hit him like a bomb going off, but instead it radiates in liquid and heat, pleasure melting his brain, and he groans in relief as bliss spreads through his limbs, spurting over and over into the depths of Spock's hole.
“Oooohhh yeah,” he sighs. “Fuck that’s good.”
He thrusts his fingers a few more times in and out of Spock’s mouth, then pulls them out and grips Spock’s chin to pull his head back, making his skin shiny with his own spit, and takes that pouty, pedantic, often insubordinate mouth in a filthy kiss.
Spock whines into his mouth and meets his tongue stroke for stroke. Jim pulls back to say, "fuck, your fucking mouth," before delving back in. As Spock sucks on his tongue, he rocks his hips back and then forward experimentally. He’s still a little hard.
"Huh," he groans, pausing to take a breath, "I could come again." It doesn't hurt that Spock is still purposefully stimulating his prostate with his tail. Spock moans something into his mouth as his tongue draws Jim's tongue back between his lips that Jim doesn't catch, and rocks his hips back to meet Jim's slow, lazy thrusts.
"Should I come in your mouth Spock, make it three for three?" He leans forward to whisper in Spock's ear, flicking his tongue out at the tip of it as Spock keens with need.
With regret, Jim pulls out of Spock's 'lok storage area', which does its level best to keep him inside.
“Your seed, Captain,” Spock gasps, and his legs tremble, "it cannot be left inside of me, my lok-mesklam is not designed to have a biological agent with that viscosity inside, it will cause a rash."
Spock's slightly pouty tone, and the way he leans back in for another filthy kiss after that implies that he expects Jim to come up with the solution. Which, it's not like they have any sonics or anything down here, what exactly does Spock want him to do?
An idea comes to him, which Jim suspects is what Spock is angling for.
Spock wriggles against him, sensing something, as Jim takes his hand from Spock's hip and grips his own cock, dragging it back and forth from Spock's taint to the opening of his fantastic cockhole.
Jim leans forward to whisper once more into Spock’s ear. "I think I'll take you up on your offer, Spock. You’re gonna piss for me so I can see, and I’m gonna piss inside you, clean you out.”
"Captain," Spock does his scandalized song and dance again, "that is also not how the lok-mesklam is to be treated!"
But he widens his stance and leans slightly forward, reaching down to pull his cock out from his own ass, then angles it forward. Jim languidly drapes himself along Spock's back, and tucks his chin over Spock's shoulder so that he can see, working his cock back inside Spock's hole as he does, rhythmically clenching his own hole around the magnificent shape of Spock's tail inside of him.
The liquid that emerges from Spock's cock is far thicker than he was expecting, and is also dark in color. Fuck. Jim groans, bites Spock's shoulder, and shudders as he relaxes and begins to release his own piss inside of Spock. In moments, it begins to spill out and over Jim's cock and splash down on the cave floor
Spock shivers, and clenches his hand around his cock, which, after a moment, begins to run with the clear thin liquid of Spock's semen once more. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Jim is really hard again, and spends a few minutes more thrusting into the delights of Spock's 'lok storage' hole. The wet squelching sounds as he fucks the last of his piss out of Spock are obscene, and now, that's more in line with what those Imperial recruiting brochures promised.
Another idea comes to Jim, and he doesn't know where he's coming up with this shit, but he's beginning to suspect Vulcan telepathy, which is a 10/10 fantastic use of a species asset.
With a last groan, Jim pulls out once more from Spock's hole, and maneuvers Spock around and down onto his knees before him. It's really more of Spock whirling around and diving to his knees as Jim's hands stroke along his body, honestly. Jim is forced to whimper at the loss of Spock's tail inside his ass, but the sight of Spock on his knees before him is worth it.
"Suck me, suck my cock, suck your captain's cock yes," Jim breathes as he guides his dick past Spock's open lips into his waiting mouth. God what a pair of cock sucking lips.
"Gorgeous," he sighs, holding Spock's face firm between his hands. As Spock goes at him like it's the last cock he'll ever suck, Spock's tail reaches up and twines itself around Jim's arm. He cups his hand until the tip is encased inside his grip, and then begins rhythmically squeezing around it, causing Spock to moan enthusiastically, grab Jim around the hips, and pull him deeper down his throat.
"Fuck, yes!" Jim shouts, tossing his head back. The things Spock's tongue and throat are doing to him are like…champion whore level, fuck.
Jim reaches with his thumb and smears the kohl at the edges of Spock’s eyes, and holds his gaze.
"Ah, fuck yeah, you’re good at that," he groans.
Jim doesn't last long this time, and if there is a god, (Jim can’t be positive), he thinks he sees the face of her when he comes.
As he dribbles out the last spurt onto Spock’s tongue, he knows he’s done, and the last of the sex-ray (or whatever it was) has been worked off.
Jim pulls back and grudgingly, Spock lets his rapidly softening dick fall from his lips. Absently, Jim traces their shape with his thumb, swiping a dribble of his cum from the corner back inside, where Spock’s tongue curls around him to receive it.
Spock however, isn't done, he notices, seeing that Spock's long cock is fully rigid and stretching up against his chest. Jim takes a moment to appreciate his first good look at it, outside of Spock's brief piss show.
As that was probably the best blowjob of his life, and Spock’s cunt is a class all on its own, he does feel that Spock deserves an extra reward. He contemplates the tiny nub of a cock head, and the large slit of his urethra. He licks his lips.
He meets Spock's dark gaze and pulls him to his feet, then, not breaking their eye contact, deliberately sinks to his knees before him. And then he takes that long, velvety cock in his mouth swallow by swallow until his face is flush against the sculpted muscles of Spock's abdomen.
It feels like it stretches halfway down his esophagus, and he swallows and swallows and swallows around it, his throat not understanding why there's no end to it.
Spock begins to gasp, and his chest heaves for air. His tail whips itself around Jim's throat once more, flexing against the shape of his cock where it bulges from the inside.
Jim slides a hand down and plunges four fingers inside Spock's now slightly gaping cunt, and Spock tosses his head back and comes with a shout. Jim moans at the eroticism of it, Spock pouring his seed straight down into Jim's stomach.
It's obvious that this time Spock is done too; his cock softens rapidly as he gently retracts himself from the depths of Jim's throat.
Then there's some delightful massaging of the outer folds of Spock's 'lok-meska-whatsit' as they form it up enough to properly hold Spock's cock secure once more.
Then they lose who knows how long engaging in a good, old-fashioned make-out session. Actually, Spock probably knows to be honest, but Jim doesn't care enough to ask him. If any enterprising souls from the Enterprise (see what he did there?) are gunning for the captaincy, they can damn well beam down to confirm death, otherwise, his ship can damn well wait as long as he pleases. And he pleases it to wait until he's tired of swapping spit with Spock.
Eventually Spock mentions that Kirk is probably in need of hydration, and magnanimously restores his clothing to him. With his shirt half ripped and the zipper of his pants broken, just in case there was any ambiguity in what the pair of them had been doing. Which…unlikely. Kirk rolls his eyes at this obvious claim-staking (which he has never once allowed in his life before, but, first time for everything, right?)
And then they beam out.
BONUS:
McCoy practically froths at the mouths for the tapes of Kirk's memories when Kirk has him edit out the bitchmonster. He plays the ‘I couldn’t care less, do whatever’ captain card, but he’s grinning unreservedly (sending several ensigns fleeing gratifyingly before him) as he exits McCoy’s domain.
So…his Doctor doth protest too much and is interested, personally, in their Vulcan first officer after all. He will file away that piece of information for use on a rainy day, as it were. Fuck him, if he could get it so that he and McCoy (with his monster cock) are fucking Spock at the same time while Spock fucks each of them in turn with his long flexible cock and tail?
Yeah. Jim's legend as captain of the Enterprise would never die. And whenever it is that he finally goes, he'll die knowing he achieved the absolute highest grade in fucking, something that is both normal to want, and possible to achieve.