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We were seated across from each other at the chess table in Jim's quarters when I felt his foot creep into my lap. His toes tickled my thighs as I pondered my next move.
I looked over at his too-innocent face, wondering once again how we had managed to come together, why it felt so right when we were so completely different. He was the other half of my soul, but I was frequently bewildered by his behavior. Most of all, I did not understand his sexuality. Was it true of all humans, or was it uniquely him, this need for endless variety, the games where "don't" meant "yes?" It was completely illogical and I knew he felt foolish on the occasions when he'd tried to explain it to me.
Now his toes were stroking me, quickly bringing me to arousal.
"You are incorrigible," I said as I moved my bishop.
His mouth curved up in a sensuous smile as he pushed his rook forward.
"What are you going to do about it?" Hazel eyes sparkled at me, melting my heart.
I reached down and pushed his foot away. Then I folded my hands on the table and studied him.
"Have you not told me that, with mischievous lovers in the past, a spanking has proven effective?"
His eyes brightened and he sat up a little straighter.
I locked my hand on his arm as I stood and turned my chair. Then I pulled him toward me, sat down, and bent him over my knees. The sound of his bright laughter rang in my ears as I pulled his loose-fitting pants down over his hips.
The laughter ended abruptly with the first blow. He shouted harshly and tried to escape but I held him down and swiftly delivered five more stinging slaps. Then I released him.
He sprang to his feet and quickly put two meters between us. He pulled up his pants and turned to me, red-faced with explosive anger.
"Jesus, Spock! It's supposed to be *playful!*"
I was stunned. "My research indicated that a spanking was meant as punishment and should therefore be painful."
"My research did not mention different varieties." I felt that my ignorance did not excuse my behavior so I went to him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Did I hurt you, t'hy'la?"
"Yes, you hurt me, t'hy'la," he said bitterly as he pulled away.
"Then you must allow me to attend to you." I went to the synthesizer.
"Don't sulk," I told him. It was not one of his more endearing qualities. "Go lie down." He shot me an angry look but he obeyed.
When I entered the sleeping alcove, he was lying on his stomach on the bed. His face was turned away from me. He had removed his shirt which could mean he was not really angry with me. But his pants were still on which could mean exactly the opposite. I sighed.
I put my hands on the waistband of his pants and he made no move to stop me so I pulled them down, this time gently. I removed them and folded them neatly. Usually this made him laugh but tonight he was silent.
And I saw why. His buttocks were covered with rosy inflammation. I put my hand on one of the bright red marks and it fit exactly. He flinched at my touch. For once his skin did not feel cool to me.
I reached into the bowl I'd brought with me and retrieved a piece of ice. At the first touch, he gasped.
"Does this help?" I asked as I slid it across his cheeks.
I stroked him gently and he shivered, but did not move away. When the ice had almost melted, I got another piece and lay down beside him. I rolled the ice in slow, small circles as I kissed the back of his neck.
"Mmmm." It was a sound I loved.
Did my hand move more slowly as it crossed from one cheek to the other? When did it stop caressing his buttocks and decide to explore the area between them? I cannot say. I heard him moaning and realized I was moving the ice up and down from his testicles to his waist, pressing a little more firmly each time.
I sat up and dropped the ice back into the bowl. I looked at him, mesmerized by his beauty. I ran my hands up his strong, well-muscled legs. Many Vulcans think humans are soft. They are wrong.
The copper hair at the top of his legs was wet from the melting ice. I kissed him there and his scent almost made me dizzy. He whispered my name.
I reached for the lubricant that we kept nearby and squeezed it into my hand. He lifted his hips as I slid my hand underneath him. As I coated his erection, he sighed and moved voluptuously. I watched the lascivious motion of his hips and longed to be inside him. I quickly shut down that thought.
Although we had been lovers for several months, he would not allow me to penetrate him. He was more than eager to provide oral and manual gratification and highly skilled at both. But I wanted more and I wanted to give him more. I had tried to describe to him the joy I felt when he filled me--a joy I wanted to give him in return--but he simply said, "I'm not ready," and smiled at me in that way that made me his.
As for bonding, he would not even discuss it. To him, penetration and bonding were one and the same--trust. A trust beyond friendship, beyond love. A trust he was not ready to give or receive.
Once again, I had become distracted and my hands were pursuing their own agenda. To my astonishment, I was no longer stroking his cock. I watched my fingers tickle his balls as my thumb worked its way between his buttocks. And I realized that he was not stopping me.
Breathless with disbelief, I pressed my thumb in firmly and massaged the opening in a circular motion. His hips moved toward me. I lay down and rubbed my erection against his side as I slid a finger into him. He gasped and arched but did not move away. He was very tight but my finger was well-lubricated and it slowly made its way in. Groaning, he rolled onto his side, pressing against my hand.
I reached around him and cupped his cock with my other hand, thrilling as he thrust into it. When I felt his pre-ejaculate, I milked him gently. All the while, my finger massaged the tender spot it had found deep inside him.
I continued for some time, enjoying the way he rocked against me, praying for him to want more. Finally I removed my finger and he cried out. I reached for the lubricant and coated myself.
"Jim," I whispered hoarsely. "I want you."
"Please. Let me come inside you."
It was barely a whisper. I didn't let myself believe that he had actually said it until he rolled onto his back and brought his knees to his chest. Presented with that which had been so long hidden from me and knowing how much it took for him to do this, I hesitated as I knelt between his legs.
I pulled his hips onto my knees and pressed the head of my cock against that small opening. He shuddered but he spread his legs further.
I reached for his face, intending to meld us, to mask any pain he might feel. He slapped my hand away.
"No! I want to--do this. I want to know it."
I tried not to hurt him but he was very tight. His heat was irresistible and I had to force myself to go slowly. I saw him bite his lip and close his eyes tight. I stroked his cock as I moved further into him. When I could go no further, I stopped, luxuriating in the overwhelming sensation of his body molding itself to mine. And then I felt him move with pleasure.
I matched his rhythm, my hand on his cock, my hips against his ass. I saw his face contort in ecstasy as each stroke drove us higher, further, until we were lost in each other. I felt him tighten, the pressure gathering as he built toward orgasm. His impending climax drove me quickly to mine and it was almost painful as I came into that hot vice. Moments later he cried out my name and his cum shot into my hand and onto his belly.
Later, as we lay together, our arms and legs tangled carelessly, I whispered, "Did I hurt you, my t'hy'la?"
"Yes, you hurt me, my t'hy'la." But he smiled as he said it. He curled in more closely to me and said softly, "Spock. Tell me what's involved in...bonding."
He was right. Sometimes a spanking can be very effective.
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