Chapter Text
“Oh God,” Jim whispered, as Spock tightened his arms around the human’s chest and hips, holding him exactly where Spock wanted him as he thrust deeply inside. Spock was arching his body just high enough that Jim’s own cock could not find relief by pressing against the mattress. Jim tried to reach for it, but Spock batted his hand away, driving a needy moan from the human’s lips. Spock’s rhythm nearly stuttered at the sound.
“Spock,” Jim whispered, a protest, a plea.
Spock wanted to hear more, to have more precious sounds to lock away in his mind and replay at will. He stilled, making Jim whine in protest. The human tried to move, to fuck himself on Spock’s cock, but Spock’s arms held him immobile. “Beg,” Spock demanded.
“Spock, please.”
“Please what?”
“Fuck me, touch me, anything, anything.”
Spock began to thrust again, but not hard enough to give Jim the relief he needed.
“Harder, please, I need it, I need you.”
“Yes,” Spock whispered. With a pleased sigh, he began to fuck Jim in earnest, long, deep strokes angled just right to drive gasps and moans from his perfect lips. It was a barrage of sensation, feeling Jim so open and needy around his cock, completely at his mercy. Through the press of their skin, he could feel Jim’s need and desire, compounding his own. “Do you want my hand?” he whispered against Jim's ear.
“Yes, please, Spock, fuck, just—please touch me.”
“Then tell me you’re mine.”
“Oh, God,” Jim whispered at a particularly hard thrust of Spock’s cock.
“Tell me,” Spock demanded.
“I’m yours, I’m yours, Spock, please.”
Spock immediately wrapped his hand around Jim’s cock and jerked him in time with his thrusts, Jim’s words sending him dizzyingly higher, and then they were both coming hard, Spock burying himself as deeply as he possibly could in Jim’s perfect ass.
For a long moment, they simply breathed together. Spock reluctantly pulled out, eliciting a soft whimper from Jim. When he’d arrived, he’d been unable to resist bending Jim over the arm of the couch and taking him without even removing his pinstriped suit or Jim’s trousers and shirt. Then he’d taken Jim upstairs and stripped off their clothing to have him again.
The human rolled onto his back, still panting, looking thoroughly debauched. Spock greatly enjoyed seeing him like this. At first Jim had seemed somewhat apprehensive having Spock in his house, but he had relaxed substantially. He had not even mentioned returning to the club for the last three visits. Mitchell would of course no longer cause Jim any difficulties—Spock had made sure of it—but he was the perfect excuse to keep Jim from going to the club to be ogled by other men.
Jim had fully recovered from the attack, and now instead bore the marks of Spock’s touch: a light bruising on his hip, a mark on his neck from Spock’s teeth. He looked like perfection itself. He looked like he was Spock’s.
“Remain here,” Spock said, and went to the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean them off. His eyes skimmed over the room as he returned, taking in Jim’s clothing strewn on the floor.
Jim had asked Spock if he wanted him to wear his club attire, but Spock had said it was not necessary. He found Jim’s glittering skirts and heels appealing, but enjoyed him in his ordinary clothes as well. He had a particular soft spot for the flannel pajamas. He’d even fucked Jim once while he had them on, much to Jim’s amusement.
Spock also enjoyed getting to see where Jim lived. The shelving unit of his bedroom contained a small but clearly beloved collection of books. On his fourth visit, he had brought Jim a book; the human had been genuinely delighted.
After Spock had cleaned them off, he pulled Jim close, savoring Jim’s happy, humming sound as he curled against Spock, pliant and relaxed. “If you don’t stop feeling so good, I’m going to fall asleep on you,” Jim teased, voice warm.
“I have no objections.” It was then that he noticed the book he’d given Jim was on the nightstand. “You are reading the book I gave you?”
“Rereading it, yeah. I love it.”
“Rereading already?”
“Yeah. I’ve already read all of mine a bunch of times.”
Books were expensive; Spock could understand why Jim had not purchased many. “I will bring you more then.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Spock.” The human’s voice was soft, genuine, pleased.
Spock had been considering asking Jim to stay with him as the next step in binding them closer together, but he would not raise the issue now, when he could bask in the human’s contentment through the press of their skin as Jim lounged in his arms.
Raising such a step would make the human nervous, and so he would wait—but Jim always acquiesced in the end, and Spock anticipated that he would continue to do so. He would have Jim in his entirety.