for all your bottom spock needs

When the old man materialized on the transporter pad, Captain Kirk could hardly believe it. “Who the hell are you?” he inquired.

“I the hell am James Tiberius Kirk. Who are you, young blood?”

Kirk looked at Spock in shock. Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

“Get Ambassador Selek on the horn,” Kirk ordered with a giddy grin.

“Jim…dare I believe it?”

“It’s me, sweetheart. I’m here, I’m really here.”

Spock (the original) rushed forward to sweep his long lost husband into his arms. “My James…t’nash-veh yel…it has been almost a century. I thought I would not see you until the afterlife.

“Maybe it is the afterlife,” Jim smiled wryly. “Certainly feels that way with all these damn flaring lights. Was our Enterprise ever this bright?”

for my dear @onedamnminuteadmiral, who asked me for a lil ear nibble. ;)

Jim’s been away from home for a few weeks, and although he and Spock are re-bonded and living together, things are still far from being back to ‘normal.’ Upon his return home, he finds something he never expected, that changes things forever between them.

Quick sketch at night. But even I was surprised at the result :3

To me Spock is always a bottom

Full size image: https://sakurainguyen96.deviantart.com/art/Thirst-695160296

Visit my gallery (only 7 pictures atm though but I will draw more): https://sakurainguyen96.deviantart.com/gallery/

Click here for full size: https://sakurainguyen96.deviantart.com/art/Two-less-lonely-souls-in-the-universe-700444554

Inspired by many great fanfictions I have read. This is how their sweetest moment should be in my imagination.

“This is how you should look,” Jim pants, already hard again in what Spock deems a human excess, but one which he will indulge. “All fucked and loved with the bruises to prove it.”

Dirty talk, Jim calls it. An acquired taste, Sulu had explained, but Spock had acquired it from nowhere. 

“Look at your cock,” Jim’s breath is hot against his ear; his words are quiet. “All thick and slick from your own cum, it fits so well inside of me, fills me up.”

Jim’s hand moves lazily over the penis in question, palming it up against Spock’s belly. 

“Your ball are so round and tight, I bet they could fill me till I was dripping for days Spock, I know you can cum again.” Jim’s other hand picks up his wrist and guides it to his mouth. “Suck your fingers for me, Spock. Suck them like you’re sucking my dick.”

He opens his mouth and his first two fingers slip in. It’s a fetish - or rather, a Vulcan characteristic - that he would never have shared out of embarrassment, but it took Jim only one round of sex to figure it out.

He sucks, wet and sloppy, tonguing between his fingers and scraping his teeth over the pads. 

When they’re wet enough, Jim pulls them from his lips and pushes the hand down between Spock’s own legs. 

“Finger yourself for me, Spock, split yourself open.”

Spock can only groan at the sensation of his anus stretching over his fingers, at the hunger in Jim’s gaze as he watches his hole intently. Jim pushes his own, dryer finger between Spock’s, stretching him suddenly and pushing his fingers out against his walls. 

“You’re gonna keep those fingers in there whilst I suck your dick.” Jim tells him, and he nods. 

Jim’s tongue slides, rough and wet around his head, and Spock’s sphincter constricts suddenly around his fingers. 

He can barely move them, Jim does most of the work as he swallows him down, working a second finger in so that Spock is stretched to over-full and pushing until he can stroke his prostate. 

Spock cries out, the kind of sound he loves hanging on Jim’s lips, but those lips are oh so busy and he can’t bear for this to stop, even to hear Jim’s sweet voice. 

He whimpers as it becomes too much, the constant spasming of his hole making his fingers slide against smooth insides and Jim’s rough pads. 

Spock finds himself begging, for the first time in his life. He cannot take it, needs to spill down Jim’s throat; paradoxically, it is so good that he simultaneously tries to push himself down and scramble away. “Please…! Jim!”

Jim hums his satisfaction around the cock in his mouth and his fingers dance against that one sweet spot. 

Spock kicks back against the bed as his balls tighten and his fingers curl involuntarily as his whole body twitches around them, feels Jim sucking ejaculate from his tip, cheeks hollow, tongue sliding into slit.

He pulls his fingers out of himself as Jim gives his penis one last kiss and pulls away.

“You ready?” Jim says as he sits back on his haunches, his own cock hard and leaking. He sits between Spock’s spread, shaking thighs, ready for another round. 

Spock can barely breathe, even in the oxygen rich air of the Enterprise, but he nods, consciously willing the blood to stay inside his penis despite even the idea of more stimulation now being terrifying.

It’s too much, too soon, being stretched again around Jim’s erection. He’s barely wet enough to take it and the friction against his prostate is almost unbearable; he arches and cries out, again, tears springing to his eyes. 

Jim sets a fast pace, battering him inside and out, and Spock’s eyes roll back into his head. He can feel himself spasming as a dry orgasm is fucked out of him, gasping and moaning in time with Jim.

Then he feels Jim’s mouth on the fingers he’d had inside himself, sucking and licking and filthy, and there is nothing Spock can do but to lie there and shake and tremble and scream. Pleasepleaseplease! What is he begging for? He’s already coming, the head of his cock is already glistening with a few pathetic beads of semen. PleasepleasepleaseJimplease!

Jim burns him with a rush of human-hot cum of his own, his moans rough and broken, and carries on thrusting until he collapses on top of him. 

Kirk never knocks, or buzzes or whatever it is they have on the doors. He wouldn’t know, he doesn’t use it. 

It doesn’t matter, because all Spock ever does is sit at his desk and work, or sit on the floor an meditate. Jim’s never walked in on him doing anything else. 

Except today. 

He walks straight in to Spock’s quarters unannounced, because hey, he gets announced plenty on the bridge, only to encounter the peculiar happen-stance that the living area is empty. No matter, Jim can wait. 

Except it’s not as quiet in here as he’d first thought when he’d escaped the bustle of the ships corridors. There’s breathing and a slick, wet noise, an almost-suckling sound. 

When he walks to the grill screen that separates the living area from the bedroom, he has no specific image in mind for the cause. Presumably something logical that he can’t remember because he has a one track mind - something it would take a Vulcan to assume was happening. 

Except what’s happening isn’t very logical or Vulcan at all.

Jim freezes. He should leave. He should say something. He should watch sneakily from behind the grating and then run away before he can be discovered. No, not that last one… Well… Who could blame a guy? The answer was Spock and Starfleet Command and most everybody he knows, actually, but that doesn’t seem to be enough to make him go. 

Spock is lying on his back on the bed in his black undershirt, naked below the waist, legs spread wide as long, slick fingers slide in and out of his stretched, greenish hole. He sucks noisily on the first two fingers of his other hand, tongue sliding between them, leaving none free to touch the thick, dripping length that presses up against his belly, or to squeeze the tight, quivering balls. 

Which is really a shame. 

Spock doesn’t seem to need the extra stimulation, four fingers stuffed in, pulling at his own rim and moving in a way that would suggest that the real party is going on inside.

Jim’s own dick is hard within the thirty seconds he’s been watching. He shouldn’t touch, he’ll only get caught. But that’s part of the fun, a voice in the back of his head argues. 

He tries to compromise, as though being caught with a hand in his pants with an obvious erection is less incriminating than Spock seeing him sprawled on the table. 

Sprawled like Spock is. 

Spock’s cheeks hollow as he sucks hard on the fingers, whilst those of his other hand thrust in and all the way out, breaching his opening again and plunging deep each time. His bent legs shake and his breathing is ragged through his nose. 

This is a terrible idea, Jim thinks as he spits on his own fingers. But it looks so good…

He jams his hand down the back of his pants and shoves both fingers inside himself before they dry out too much. Spit isn’t lube, and it burns and hurts, but he’s already too turned on to care. The angle is awkward and he’s not used to the penetration, but he scissors anyway, and pushes the fingers in as far as they’ll go, thumbing over the tip of his dick to distract himself. 

Spock releases his fingers from his mouth, a thin trail of saliva threading between them and his lips before he brings them down and slips them in beside the others. 

With his mouth freed, Spock is louder, whimpering and moaning at the stretch. His hole looks full to bursting, a green-white ring clutching at too many fingers. 

Jim’s cock leaks at the sight; he must be so loose and wet and ready, perfect to take it. Hot walls clinging to him, velvety smooth, prepared just for him, clenching and tight.

Kirk reaches as far as he can, bearing down on his own hand until the very tips just about brush his prostate. He leans his forehead against the mesh, eyes on Spock’s hands, following their movements. 

He glances up at Spock’s face and gasps in shock, shooting his come up his own wrist as their eyes meet, Spock’s brow raised in an indifferent expression of surprise.

Is there such a thing as a vegetarian spit-roast?

Jim is roused out of his exhausted sleep by the feeling of an insistent Vulcan climbing on top of him.

“Jim, please, I must have more. Jim…Jim…” Spock is pleading desperately.

kamicom: Kirk/Spock and tribbles!

Spock whimpers softly into the pillow, rubbing against the mattress. Jim stares breathlessly at where he’s penetrating him, four fingers fitting easily inside Spock’s warm, oh-so-willing body. Thinking about how little and tight Spock’s hole was when pon farr started has Jim groaning softly as blood rushes south and he starts to get hard. It’s the first time in a while, and he knows Spock is going to want this one. Jim almost moans out loud thinking about how thoroughly Spock possesses his body during pon farr. He demands Jim’s cock without thought or consideration as to whether Jim can even get hard.  He grabs Jim, manhandles him on top of him, tilts his hips up imperiously and waits for Jim to go about his duty servicing his bondmate. Sometimes when he’s too impatient to wait for Jim to do all the work he pins Jim down, gets on top of him, and slides onto his cock. He’ll ride Jim like that for as long as Jim can stay hard (which, lately, hasn’t been that long), bruising Jim’s thighs and hips as he slams down eagerly, coming again and again, head thrown back, erection not even needing to be touched, whimpering and moaning wantonly as he comes over and over, severely testing Jim’s restraint as he spasms around him. Jim is doing his best to get hard as often as possible , and to stay hard for as long as possible. He wants this to be so good for Spock, so pleasurable. He knows Spock will still be ashamed when it’s over at the naked need he’s displaying, his insatiability, but he wants at least one thing about this to be something Spock can look back on without embarrassment.