Summary: Jim is a tribble. What does that make Spock?
Beta-read by Hypatia Kosh. Send author FB to blueberrysnail @ yahoo.com
Gioco Per Due
(Game For Two)
Jim, hunched over on his knees on the bed, inched towards Spock and nudged his side. After making a strange purring noise, he grinned and asked playfully, "What am I?"
"You are a naked human," Spock answered matter-of-factly, finding Jim's behavior somewhat odd.
"Obviously," said Jim, "but what am I pretending to be?"
"I do not know."
"C'mon, Spock!" Jim nudged at him again. He curled his body even tighter into a ball, and trilled with his tongue against his teeth.
"You are a tribble," Spock said with sighing realization.
"Why, yes," Jim purred, "I am."
"Jim." Spock rolled over onto his back and adjusted himself against the bed. "While you are, indeed, both soft and soothing..." He ran one hand over Jim's beautiful skin while he said this. "...you do not share any other characteristics with that particular organism, an ecological pest which spends its life reproducing. Asexually," he added rather pointedly, "which does not seem to be what you had in mind."
"Oh, but we do have something in common," Jim reminded him. "We both like to eat."
"Your appetite will not bankrupt the ship." Spock took ahold of one arm and kissed Jim's fingertips.
"Tell that to Dr. McCoy."
"He is only concerned for your health."
"Tribbles eat healthy food anyway," said Jim. "Like that wheat on the station."
"Hey, wasn't that stuff a hybrid species?" Jim's eyes took on a mischievous gleam.
"Yes," said Spock, "a cross between wheat and rye."
"Then I think this tribble's found a tasty hybrid grain to nibble on." Jim grinned in victory before lowering his mouth to Spock's nipple.
"I am not a--! Jim...." Spock very quickly changed his mind at the first feeling of Jim's warm, wet, flickering tongue. He decided that he would indeed be a stalk of grain, if stalks of grain experienced such delicious pleasures.
"Mmm, this is tasty grain," Jim murmured, kissing his way up Spock's chest and neck.
"I am pleased that the tribble finds me satisfactory," said Spock.
"The tribble finds you irresistible." Jim kissed his mouth, where he lingered for a long while. Spock was such a good kisser! He hadn't started out that way, but Jim was very happy with his technique now.
Spock's hands followed the curve of Jim's thighs and came to rest holding the human's buttocks. Jim wriggled decadently as Spock's fingers grazed the crack of his rear. He prepared to liquefy himself against the warm, solid Vulcan body.
Instead, Spock seized his body tightly with both arms and flipped them both over with no warning. He covered Jim entirely and kept him tightly restrained while he sucked a portion of Jim's neck into his mouth.
"Whaa.... haa.... ohh!" Jim burbled, his brains reduced to oatmeal.
"The tribble has one very important natural predator." Spock's voice was low and close to his ear. "Only the glommer can alleviate the ecological pressure of the tribble's voracious appetite--by doing its share to devour the tribbles." Then half of Jim's ear disappeared into his mouth.
Spock wasn't permitting him to move at all, not even to writhe. "Help," Jim cried, half in jest.
"I will eat you, Tribble," Spock snarled.
Jim grinned up at the ceiling, because he knew Spock couldn't see it and use it as an excuse to break the play. "I thought you were wheat. I seem to have made a fatal mistake."
Spock punctuated his agronomic correction with biting kisses along Jim's neck. "Quadro." Kiss. "Triti." Bite. "Cale." He sucked and didn't let go.
"Apparently glommers torture with their prey before eating them."
"We find it an an agreeable seasoning." Spock was hard and purposely pressing it into Jim's thigh instead of against Jim's own straining bulge. He knew how to draw out Jim's appreciation of a good tease for their mutual advantage.
"Do tribbles have any defenses against these... glommers?"
"Only their zeal for... reproduction." Spock's pause wasn't so much sexy timing as it was his own wincing at the illogic of what he'd just said, considering their genders, but in for a penny, in for a pound.
"I think this glommer's met his match!" Jim exclaimed boisterously, and tried to force their bodies together in a more satisfying alignment, but Spock would have none of it. Super-strong Vulcan arms pushed Jim back down and pinned his arms to his sides. "Please... Spock...."
"The tribble wishes to be eaten quickly, and spared the agony of a slow kill," Spock observed, in the detached voice of the narrator on a nature show.
Still holding Jim completely still with all four limbs, he inched down Jim's body, trailing his tongue as he went. He paused when he found a nipple, and licked at it tentatively with an almost imperceptible touch.
Jim perceived. He groaned loudly and tried to shove his chest toward Spock's mouth. Spock countered, pushing Jim back. He kept flickering his tongue like an insect's wing, gradually increasing the pressure. Finally, he slurped the nub into his mouth and sucked hard. Jim's penis twitched.
Jim tried to grind himself against Spock's smooth, warm skin as best he could, but Spock was moving around so deftly that gaining reasonable friction was impossible. He was forced, quite happily, to wait until Spock had finished his appetizer.
Spock wanted his mouth to be the first thing to satisfy Jim's lust; he didn't want any prior clumsy frottage to dilute the ecstasy of that first contact. His expectations were fulfilled: when he enveloped Jim with his wet, hot mouth the wave of pleasure emanating from the human's mind was so powerful that Spock did not notice Jim's physical cries.
And then he sucked so hard and so rhythmically that Jim forgot to be a tribble and Spock forgot to be a glommer or a stalk of grain and they just held on to each other's hands and minds and went with it. Two men in love, two dear friends, glad to be in each other's company and in each other's arms. Jim came and Spock swallowed, and then he nuzzled his cheek against Jim's fleshy thigh.
"When I started this, I thought I was going to be nibbling on *you*," Jim pointed out, when he had caught his breath.
"Your pleasure invites mine. It is easier for me to climax if you have already experienced orgasm," said Spock, incongruously sounding as scientific as ever even as his head lay child-like on his mate's leg. "Observing you is quite arousing."
Jim couldn't resist the urge to bat his long eyelashes. "Thank you, Spock, I aim to please." He reached out both his arms. "Come up here! I can't reach you."
Spock hugged Jim's leg in a final squeeze before obediently complying.
Spock's erection felt hard and hot in Jim's hand, the skin smooth and velvety. What a perfect organ, Jim thought to himself for the seven dozenth time. He loved Spock's penis. He'd seen some fairly unappetizing genitalia during his life's journey, and he'd always felt incredibly lucky that the man he loved most should happen to have aesthetically pleasing naughty bits. Of course, he would have loved Spock anyway, but it was nice not to have to overlook something that unavoidable.
Spock loomed over him like the Eiffel Tower, one knee on each side of Jim's body. Jim stuck a pillow under his shoulders to prop himself up and then leaned forward. "Come a little closer, Spock." He did, and then Jim began to pump the organ vigorously with his hand.
Spock's eyes fluttered shut and his mouth fell open as Jim's lips closed gently around his testicles. He'd hated them as a young man because his external testicles were one more reminder of his suppressed human half, but now he only reveled in the pleasure they provided. Jim rolled his tongue all around the delicate organs, continuing the movement of his hand. It was an interesting contrast--the fierce violence of his jerking hand together with the tender wetness of his mouth. Each piece of flesh received the treatment it preferred. Jim was a master.
Jim hungrily licked and slurped at Spock's testicles with an enthusiasm that betrayed his absolute zeal for the male body. The smells and tastes were something to be experienced completely, overtaking the senses with musk and precum. His own penis was still deflated from before, but he was happy. Very happy.
And so, apparently, was Spock. His testicles were dancing around with more frequency than could be attributed to the massaging of Jim's tongue, and Jim could tell he was close to coming. With a deep breath he opened his mouth as wide as he could and hid the entire sac within his mouth, sucking slightly more than before. That and his hand brought a shuddering climax out of Spock. Fluid flowed through the gaps between Kirk's fingers, bathing his hand in sticky proof of his own skill.
Spock lay down beside him and snuggled closer. He tried to stroke Jim's two fingers, found them sticky, and quickly switched hands. "You are the best."
"The best?" Jim teased with amusement, swelling with pride. "The best what?"
"The best match for me," Spock clarified.
"That's sweet." Jim smiled. "Well, you're the best, too. You know how I know that?"
"Because you're mine, and everything I have is the best. I've got the best ship in the 'Fleet, don't I? And I have the best books." He cocked his head toward his bookshelf, where Charles Dickens and Patrick O'Brian sat in regal second-millennium grandeur. "So of course, you must be the best as well."
"I am not the best glommer," Spock commented, too modest to acknowledge Jim's compliment beyond a slight greening in his cheeks. "I appear to have been conquered by my prey."
"True, but you're a very generous Vulcan to let me play illogical games with you." Jim caught his gaze and held it.
They arranged themselves in their customary sleeping-nuzzle, partially twined together and partially spread out at random across the bed. "I guess it's a good thing I'm not really a tribble," Jim murmured as he closed his eyes, "or else we'd be parents by now, considering what we've been up to."
"Grandparents, actually," said Spock, and mercifully, they fell asleep before the conversation could be continued.
This story originally appeared in the 2005 Slash Advent Calendar.