Poor Impulse Control

Pairing: James T. Kirk/Spock
Category: porn battle, smut, blow job
Summary: You can't expect James T. Kirk to control himself 24-7
Notes: Written for the prompt: leather (Porn Battle XI)

writing soundtrack: AC/DC: Back in Black

Of the many fantasies that Jim has entertained in the sixteen months since he first met Spock, leather hasn't figured in more than one or two of them. Most of all because he's not stupid, and putting a touch-telepath in skin from a dead animal... no, just no. Jim aced his xenobiology exams the hard way, so he knows this shit.

And how fucked up is it to have your fantasies follow scientific fact?

Taking a deep breath, Jim clamps down on his badly timed libido. They're on a mission, they're undercover and if he has to face Starfleet and explain to them that he's blown their cover because he's got a hard-on for Spock in an ankle length fake leather duster and calf high buckled boots? He'll shot himself out an airlock from pure embarrassment before he'll ever allow that to happen.

Not to mention that Pike will have his head, not to mention his balls, if he finds out about Jim's unhealthy obsession with his first.

It's just that Jim really wants to run his hands down the back of that duster, let them glide down over the taut garment where it fits the shoulders perfectly, down the narrowing back to the hips where it flares out dramatically.

Fuck, Jim just wants to get Spock in nothing but said duster, on his back on a flat surface and several uninterrupted hours.

"Jim?" Spock's voice is soft, but insistent and Jim gets the feeling that Spock's already said his name more than once, trying to get his attention.

Taking a deep breath, Jim plasters on his most cocky smile and gives Spock his full professional attention.

And it works, he tells himself. Of course it works. They get through their meeting, their contact never knowing that he's in fact giving away a lot of trade information that was never meant for Starfleet's ears and eyes. And that's just how Jim likes it. Because that means he and Spock can walk right out the door of the seedy bar and no one's the wiser.

The fact that Jim forgets himself and escorts Spock out by resting his hand in the small of Spock's back, that is Jim's own fault. He doesn't think for a moment, and at first, he doesn't notice the stiffening of Spock's posture as they walk.

The leather's so soft and so well made that even though Jim knows it's fake, he can't really tell the difference. For a split second he does notice the stiff posture, but he also catches the almost invisible relaxing to Spock's shoulders a moment later and a thrill shoots through Jim's body, from his fingertips to his cock.

Outside the air is chill and Jim's looking forward to getting back to the old run down shuttle they've been using to keep their cover. Putting a ship the size of the Enterprise into orbit around a well-known harbor for pirates and slavers would have negated the work they're trying to do.

There's an odd peace between him and Spock and Jim knows that however stupid he might have been with his move when they'd left the bar, Spock isn't angry with him. The way they fall into step next to each other lacks the displeasure he's occasionally been at the receiving end of and it not only intrigues Jim, it sends his libido sky high. It doesn't help him at all that with every step they take, with every swing of Jim's arm, his hand brushes against the sleeve of Spock's coat.

The walk to the port, where the shuttle is parked, takes ages and Jim just knows that if he mentions it, Spock will tell him that it is taking exactly the same time to get back to the shuttle as it did to get from the shuttle to the bar in the first place.

Cheeky Vulcan logic; Jim's getting used to it, counting on it. He's even enjoying it, though he'll never admit that last fact out loud. Especially not where Spock can hear it. Or Bones, for that matter. Because the doctor already has far too much ammunition when it comes to Jim's life in general.

Although Jim really does want to start something ill-advised with Spock, he knows the tension he's feeling isn't supposed to be resolved, at least not by any other means than his right hand and when they enter the shuttle, ready it for take-off and when they break atmosphere, Jim tries to breathe through it. They just have to get back to the ship and then...

Jim feels more than sees Spock's presence right behind his seat. Spock's been recalibrating some of the computer panels in the back and he's supposed to just sit down in his seat next to Jim. Sit down and quietly wait until they reach their rendezvous point with the Enterprise.

Spock stays where he is and Jim can feel the tension radiating from him. And all Jim can think about is 'Fuck, fuck, fuck, what did I do? I didn't touch skin, there's no way that Spock caught onto....'

"Please let me know if I am overstepping your boundaries, ...Jim," Spock says quietly and he's leaning down a little, his warm breath hitting Jim's ear, making him shiver. "I have, since we left the Enterprise, noticed that you have been quite fascinated with my disguise."

Jim swallows hard. "Erm, it's a nice coat, Spock," he replies, wincing at how lame that answer was.

"I find myself rather taken with it as well," Spock says. Then he puts his hands, tentatively, on Jim's shoulders and Jim is incapable of suppressing the full body shiver this elicits.

"Even more so as it seems to provoke a certain reaction from you."

Jim bites his lower lip and draws a deep breath, which might not have been the best idea he's ever had, because as he does so, Spock leans in over his shoulder and engages the autopilot. A move that means Jim's face is pressed against Spock's chest as he turns his head at the same time.

Sure, the scent of the coat isn't leather as Jim knows it, but mixed with Spock's own smell it pushes his arousal up a few notches.

Spock pulls back halfway, but stops and Jim notices that his gaze is focused on Jim's crotch. And there is no way he can cover up the bulge - it'd be like closing the stable after the horse is out.

"Am I to deduct that you are more than merely fascinated with my outfit, that is to say, that you are in fact aroused by it?"

Jim swallowed hard. "It's really not just your outfit, Spock," he admits, surprised that his voice sounds as stable as it does. Especially while the rest of him is shaking with a mixture of arousal and fear of what the hell this'll do to their friendship.


A whine escapes Jim as Spock pulls back entirely, leaving him feeling cold and bereft. Swinging the seat around, he makes to stand, but Spock pushes him back down again.

This time, the noise that escapes Jim is even more embarrassing. So not only does he have a thing for Spock, Spock in leather, but obviously also for Spock pushing him around.

Of course Spock doesn't miss this and Jim is mesmerized by the arch of Spock's eyebrow, just for a moment, but obviously, it's enough.

"Please correct me if I am wrong," Spock says evenly, reaching out, gripping Jim's wrists, pulling him forward enough to place Jim's hands on his chest.

Jim clears his throat, and he knows he should stop this, but he just can't. He may be a Federation hero, a legend on the rise, but for fuck's sake! He's only a man!

And this is it. This is as far as Jim will be pushed and it feels surprisingly good to just let go of the promises he's made himself about never going for Spock. Not because Spock is with Uhura. They haven't been a couple for nearly a year now, but because it'd be unprofessional of him, it'd be stupid, it could damage the team dynamics they have labored to create.

In this very minute, Jim forgets every little reason he's ever had to keep his hands off Spock and digs his fingers into the duster, dragging them slowly down Spock's chest. He pauses when he reaches Spock's waist, takes a deep breath and lets the last few strains of doubt go.

Spock doesn't stop him when Jim reaches for the fastenings of Spock's pants, parts the front and carefully pulls them down just far enough to allow his cock to spring free.

Jim doesn't look up for permission. If Spock wants him to stop, he just has to step back, but his booted feet stay firmly planted in front of Jim. Sparing a moment to look at the slight green tint to Spock's erection, Jim leans in to slide his mouth over the head, feeling the heaviness of it on his tongue, the taste that is... not as bitter as human semen, but almost like some indeterminable spice that leaves a not unpleasant aftertaste.

He lets go of Spock's pants and buries his fingers in the lapels of the long duster, fists the garment in an almost painful grip. It's a thrill when Spock puts his hands on Jim's head, holding him in place as he pushes halfway in, then pulls back out.

Jim pushes his head forward. He doesn't want Spock to hold back. Turns out that they aren't only in tune when working together, because Spock gets it. His fingers tighten in Jim's hair and the next thrust goes deep, the head of Spock's cock slipping into Jim's throat.

Making an encouraging sound, Jim laments the fact that he doesn't want to let go to grab his own cock, but he won't...

Spock makes the decision for him and pulls out, much to Jim's annoyance, but before he can voice his displeasure, Spock lifts his foot and puts one calf high buckled leather boots right between Jim's thighs, the rounded tip bumping against Jim's bulge.

Jim gasps and Spock tilts his leg to the side, grabs Jim's head and pushes his cock straight into Jim's throat again. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Jim makes the neediest noise ever and there is no such thing as feeling embarrassed.

It's complete and utter sensory overload when Spock lets go of his hair with one hand, fingertips rubbing against the psi points at Jim's temple, causing Jim to see stars. He can't help himself. He bucks hard against Spock's foot, swallows messily around Spock's cock, saliva slicking his jaw and neck. Spock's growling and holding his head in a vice grip, rolling his hips forward in small movements and Jim's coming, tearing hard at Spock's duster, completely gone as Spock shoots semen down his throat, cock pulsing and hot in Jim's sore throat.

When Spock lets go of his head, Jim falls back, gasping for air and not caring that semen hits his chin and chest. He whines deep in his throat as he unclenches his fists and grabs at Spock's calf riding out his own orgasm. It's a little painful, humping a boot like that, but Jim is beyond caring. He's closed his eyes at some point, and he's feeling so lazy now that he can't force them back open.

"How fast can you get hard again?" Jim asks, calculating that they have plenty of time before their rendezvous with the Enterprise.

Spock wipes a finger along Jim's lips and Jim can't help grinning as he opens his eyes and watches Spock licking his fingers. Jim rolls his hips lazily against Spock's boot.

"Three point one minute," Spock replies, watching Jim with slightly parted lips. He pushes his foot forward a little and Jim gasps again.

He's a little too sensitive for this at the moment, but he doesn't want Spock to move his boot just now.

"Take off your clothes, put the duster back on and bend me over the chair," Jim says, licking his lips to catch more of Spock's semen. "Then fuck me till I scream your name."

"Is that an order?" Spock asks.

No one, no one will ever believe Jim if he tells them that Spock is playful in this very moment. He grins and winks at Spock, popping the fastenings of his own pants. "Consider it a challenge."

The End