[ even with the gloves on, the way jim sucks at his fingers so desperately hits spock right at his core, his heart pounding in his side as he snakes his hand beneath layers of fabric, curling still-damp fingers around jim's cock to pump it a few times, distracting, before he draws back just enough to pop the button of his own fly, unzipping it after, his forehead resting between jim's shoulder blades so he can watch between them, fingers in his mouth spread invitingly to make space for his tongue. ]
Spread your legs.
[ as best as he can still mostly clothed, at least. while Spock would generally prefer not to soil their clothing as thoroughly as this, he finds he lacks the ability to care at the moment. drawing his lok free of layers of fabric makes him suck in a sharp breath, and he yanks jim's pants and underwear down just enough to give him access. he strokes his own arousal slowly to slick up his fingers (obscene, filthy—) because no matter how much jim wants it, spock won't do this without preparing him first. ]
Breathe, ashayam.
[ the words are thick on his tongue, his own patience wearing thin. once he's sure jim is focused enough to do so, he starts to press the first finger into him. ]
[Any other time, Jim doesn't think he'd even notice some of these sounds but right now the soft zzzzip of Spock's uniform trousers behind him feels like its been hooked up to a loudspeaker pointed directly at his brain. Jim doesn't have the higher brain function at the moment to be mortified by the truly needy noise he makes. They morph into something akin to coherent sounds in the affirmation to Spock's instruction, but only just.
Jim shifts on his feet, arches his hips up and back for Spock's benefit as much as he can manage in the tight space between them. He's definitely more flexible than the position offered, but with his thighs trapped somewhat together by his uniform he does the best he can.
The first sound that might be complaint ripples between them at the urging to breathe, but it's for the best Spock holds them in that limbo long enough for Jim to cave and comply. Settle down enough to relax for the touch Spock is offering him. His fingers curl against the door, nails scratching against the smooth surface with his impatience.
Jim's hunger and adoration thrum through him. The only way he can show it is in the softer laves of his tongue against the gloved fingers still working slowly in his mouth. Every other thought hangs like a curtain in the back of Jim's mind to settle over Spock as much as he wishes.]
[ spock is unrelenting like this, but still as measured as possible for jim's sake. he keeps track of his lover's reactions as he starts to truly work him open, fingers still slowly pumping in and out of his mouth, just now in time with how the fingers of his other hand move, one and then two, as slow as he's able to force himself to be with jim so desperate, responsive, and expressive.
he doesn't speak, just acts, lips brushing his nape again, his ear, teeth catching the rounded shell of it as his eyes watch jim's fingers curl where they rest. it's taking all of his self-control at this point to keep steady: finally, he thrusts both fingers inside jim and curves them, aiming to press where he knows will make jim even more reactive, to drag fingertips along sensitive nerves with well-practiced precision. but before he can move on— ]
[As ever, being quiet in bed is not something Jim is skilled at. Even with his mouth full he groans for each of the tender kisses. For the fingers pumping in and out of his mouth and then from behind as well. Preparing him for more. His hips rock backward into each and every one of Spock's thrusts, his cock bobbing untouched before sliding against the door weeping and flushed when he rocks back forward again.
Even if Spock couldn't hear Jim's breathing (or lack thereof) he can tell where Jim's at by the degree of fuzziness in the man's constant feedback threading through the bond between them.
Doesn't stop Jim from making a short, petulant sound of complaint around the deep breaths through his nose though.
He's going to be clawing at the goddamn door the second Spock hones in and starts rubbing over his prostate. Choking on Spock's fingers just briefly before he goes after them with even greater desperation. All sense of holding back evaporates while his lover plays Jim like a musical instrument. He'll breathe if Spock wants him to, but the only sense Jim focuses on is Now.
A litany. A mantra. A prayer if that's what it takes.]
Edited (hit enter too early) 2025-07-03 19:30 (UTC)
[ by the time jim reaches that point spock's forehead is planted at the center of jim's back again, eyes lidded but open watching as his fingers—
—now hits like a bolt of lightning and he finally relents, taking yet another shaky breath and nodding where he rests so jim can feel the movement. he moves quickly after that, keeping his fingers in jim's mouth as he withdraws the other hand, taking only as much time as is necessary to position them both so that he can rock his hips forward, sinking slowly but smoothly inch by inch into his bondmate until they're flush against one another.
jim is so hot around him despite their actual temperature disparity being the opposite that he moans, a low, wrecked thing muffled against the older man's back before he finally, finally starts to move.
no one has ever so thoroughly ruined spock as jim always does, much less when they've barely started. ]
[Just like the zipper had, the slide of leather over itself echoes in Jim's ears even over his own whines or Spock's reverberating, low moans that are usually what make Jim's toes curl. The Vulcan's voice is still hotter than sin, but that outfit.
He can't see it now, but the scent of leather is still heady, especially with Spock's gloved fingers working in Jim's mouth. Jim can feel the brush of Spock's bangs against his shoulders and remembers that ruffled windswept look he'd walked in with. Jim's whole body caresses Spock covetously with the memory. With how the jacket hung open, Spock's tits were full ass on display. Jim can't stop thinking about it. The look of him, his usual prim and proper lab coated boyfriend looking ruffled and rugged and--the leather the rub of leather and the smell of it and the feel of that stretch and connection--
Jim's thoughts melt together as he's pushed up against the door again. He moans around Spock's fingers but does shudder through a deep breath through his nose lest Spock Stop now of all times.
He wants his love to know just how goddamn hot he looked waltzing into Jim's office. How Jim's cock jumped at the sight of him. All of it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
understandable lmao
Spread your legs.
[ as best as he can still mostly clothed, at least. while Spock would generally prefer not to soil their clothing as thoroughly as this, he finds he lacks the ability to care at the moment. drawing his lok free of layers of fabric makes him suck in a sharp breath, and he yanks jim's pants and underwear down just enough to give him access. he strokes his own arousal slowly to slick up his fingers (obscene, filthy—) because no matter how much jim wants it, spock won't do this without preparing him first. ]
Breathe, ashayam.
[ the words are thick on his tongue, his own patience wearing thin. once he's sure jim is focused enough to do so, he starts to press the first finger into him. ]
no subject
Jim shifts on his feet, arches his hips up and back for Spock's benefit as much as he can manage in the tight space between them. He's definitely more flexible than the position offered, but with his thighs trapped somewhat together by his uniform he does the best he can.
The first sound that might be complaint ripples between them at the urging to breathe, but it's for the best Spock holds them in that limbo long enough for Jim to cave and comply. Settle down enough to relax for the touch Spock is offering him. His fingers curl against the door, nails scratching against the smooth surface with his impatience.
Jim's hunger and adoration thrum through him. The only way he can show it is in the softer laves of his tongue against the gloved fingers still working slowly in his mouth. Every other thought hangs like a curtain in the back of Jim's mind to settle over Spock as much as he wishes.]
no subject
[ spock is unrelenting like this, but still as measured as possible for jim's sake. he keeps track of his lover's reactions as he starts to truly work him open, fingers still slowly pumping in and out of his mouth, just now in time with how the fingers of his other hand move, one and then two, as slow as he's able to force himself to be with jim so desperate, responsive, and expressive.
he doesn't speak, just acts, lips brushing his nape again, his ear, teeth catching the rounded shell of it as his eyes watch jim's fingers curl where they rest. it's taking all of his self-control at this point to keep steady: finally, he thrusts both fingers inside jim and curves them, aiming to press where he knows will make jim even more reactive, to drag fingertips along sensitive nerves with well-practiced precision. but before he can move on— ]
Remember what I said about breathing, Jim.
no subject
Even if Spock couldn't hear Jim's breathing (or lack thereof) he can tell where Jim's at by the degree of fuzziness in the man's constant feedback threading through the bond between them.
Doesn't stop Jim from making a short, petulant sound of complaint around the deep breaths through his nose though.
He's going to be clawing at the goddamn door the second Spock hones in and starts rubbing over his prostate. Choking on Spock's fingers just briefly before he goes after them with even greater desperation. All sense of holding back evaporates while his lover plays Jim like a musical instrument. He'll breathe if Spock wants him to, but the only sense Jim focuses on is Now.
A litany. A mantra. A prayer if that's what it takes.]
some nsfw since im home anyway lmao
—now hits like a bolt of lightning and he finally relents, taking yet another shaky breath and nodding where he rests so jim can feel the movement. he moves quickly after that, keeping his fingers in jim's mouth as he withdraws the other hand, taking only as much time as is necessary to position them both so that he can rock his hips forward, sinking slowly but smoothly inch by inch into his bondmate until they're flush against one another.
jim is so hot around him despite their actual temperature disparity being the opposite that he moans, a low, wrecked thing muffled against the older man's back before he finally, finally starts to move.
no one has ever so thoroughly ruined spock as jim always does, much less when they've barely started. ]
don't know where you are - not wifi safe
He can't see it now, but the scent of leather is still heady, especially with Spock's gloved fingers working in Jim's mouth. Jim can feel the brush of Spock's bangs against his shoulders and remembers that ruffled windswept look he'd walked in with. Jim's whole body caresses Spock covetously with the memory. With how the jacket hung open, Spock's tits were full ass on display. Jim can't stop thinking about it. The look of him, his usual prim and proper lab coated boyfriend looking ruffled and rugged and--the leather the rub of leather and the smell of it and the feel of that stretch and connection--
Jim's thoughts melt together as he's pushed up against the door again. He moans around Spock's fingers but does shudder through a deep breath through his nose lest Spock Stop now of all times.
He wants his love to know just how goddamn hot he looked waltzing into Jim's office. How Jim's cock jumped at the sight of him. All of it.]