Title: Taste
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Set in the movieverse. PWP. Spock really likes the way Kirk tastes after a stressful situation. There's not much more to say.
Word count: 2,000 words

Jim Kirk was a difficult man to read, and yet, he was an open book. Spock always knew when he was happy, angry, relieved, tired, annoyed, frustrated, and even hungry. Even when he sat on the bridge with his back to the Captain’s chair, he had a pretty good idea of what Kirk was thinking, feeling, experiencing. Of course, that might have been because Spock was experiencing the same things. But at other times, in other areas, Spock couldn’t even begin to guess what was happening in Kirk’s mind.

That’s when he intrigued Spock the most.

When he became comfortable with Kirk’s unpredictability, he began to experiment a little with his own. It was…fun. A concept that should have been abhorrent if not completely foreign. His mother had always entreated him to at least try to enjoy his studies, his hobbies, something, anything. But Vulcans did not act for pleasure, but rather out of logic.

There was nothing logical about what they were doing.

In the moment after a battle ended, the entire bridge is hung in limbo. Nobody took a breath. Nobody moved. As if everybody needed a split second to ascertain that they were still living, still moving, still right where they belonged. Spock was not immune to this. The Enterprise whistled and beeped its familiar song, and Spock turned his head, just enough to catch Captain Kirk in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, trying to look calm even though his entire body was vibrating with tension and his eyes were flashing.

And then that second ended, and everybody was moving again, going about their assigned duties. Rushing to deal with the aftermath in uniform, regulation precision. Kirk did not technically have any duties at this point—his job was done. The victory was secure, and security, or sickbay, would deal with the enemy as their shuttles arrived. If any sort of interrogation was necessary, it would be later.

Kirk stood up and walked off the bridge, leaving the conn to Sulu.

Spock’s mind worked quickly, along two different tracks. He saw himself remaining on the bridge, monitoring the intake, while Kirk went to greet the prisoners. He saw himself following Kirk into the lift, taking advantage of that tension, of that subtle, unmistakable vibration. A very common, completely unremarkable physical reaction to a high stress situation should not have been remotely attractive. And yet, it was.

Spock followed Kirk off the bridge, stepping inside the lift just before the door closed behind him.

“Mr. Spock.”

“I assume you are going to the shuttle bay, Captain?”

“To greet the Enterprise’s newest guests? Yes, I probably should. That would be the logical act, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, Captain, it would.”

Kirk smiled a little. It was wry. It held the barest hint of exhaustion. His shoulders were starting to bend slightly, and his knuckles were white where he held the control. Whatever rush he got from that sort of engagement was starting to wear off. Spock either needed to take advantage of what remained, or he needed to think of a logic place to go himself. Perhaps to sickbay. Or to his quarters, to begin his required report to the Federation on the battle.

“Jim…”

Kirk looked up, meeting Spock’s gaze with alert eyes. Too alert. They were shining brightly, like another flood of adrenaline had just been dumped in his veins. Like Spock’s word had done something to…electrify him. This was a strange power he had over the Captain. How could something as simple as three letters, one syllable, a second of sound do so much to bring Kirk to life?

Kirk released the control at the same second Spock stepped forward. He took Kirk’s arm, and their chests came together two seconds before their mouths met. Kirk immediately opened to the kiss, his mouth warm and inviting, yet just as hungry as Spock’s. Their tongues tangled, and Kirk’s hand went to the back of his neck, as if to hold him in place. The heat from Kirk’s body melted into his, and he absorbed it. Like a lizard on a rock, absorbing the energy from the sun.

Spock needed more. He craved it. He pulled at Kirk’s shirt, seeking any bare skin he could find. He broke the kiss to a sound of disappointment and dragged his tongue along the line of Kirk’s jaw. His skin tasted of salt and adrenaline. He tasted like energy—a little bit bitter. Each taste built on itself, and instead of satisfying his craving, he only encouraged it to grow and deepen. It was a little disconcerting to forget completely about moderation, about control. But his Captain had the tendency to drive those notions completely out of his head.

“Spock.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re…no, God, don’t stop.” He gripped Spock’s shirt, bunching it up in his fingers, but he wasn’t seeking out the texture of Spock’s skin. He just needed something to hold on to as Spock shifted his attention to the hollow of his throat, and the myriad of experiences he found there. That was where the sweat gathered during the worst of the battle. That was where he tasted of the orders he issues. It’s also where Spock could sense his relief, as he dropped his head back with a soft sight, and his Adam’s apple bobbed with each gasping breath.

The small compartment was heavy with the sound of Kirk’s gasps and the smell of his sweat. It was a scent that was completely human, unique to Kirk’s flesh. Spock did not know how to explain the pleasure he found in that. He mouthed Kirk through his shirt, too impatient to even take the time to rip the material apart. He scraped his teeth over Kirk’s nipple, with just enough pressure to make him arch his back.

“Spock…what are you doing?”

He dragged Kirk’s shirt over his ribs, revealing the tight muscles of his stomach. “I am tasting you, Captain.”

“Why?”

Spock paused in his exploration. “Consider it…scientific research.”

“Scientific research?” The words were riding a rush of air. His fingers flexed on the back of Spock’s neck. “What do you mean?”

“This is when you are in your element. When your body seemed perfectly in tune with the crew. With the ship. It is something I wish to experience with all my senses.”

“Ah, including your sense of taste?”

“Precisely.”

“Well…then please…carry on.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock said, his lips brushing against Kirk’s skin, branding the words there with hot breath.

Kirk responded with a weak moan. A sound full of n’s and g’s. In the back of Spock’s mind, a clock kept perfect count, reminding him of exactly how many seconds they were spending in the lift. If anybody was expecting them, if anybody was waiting for the lift, they were probably feeling each of those seconds as well. And yet, Spock could not bring himself to care. He would keep track of the time, but he wouldn’t be a slave to it. He wouldn’t let that distract him from the line of perspiration marking the center of Kirk’s abdomen. Or the twitching, jumping nerves beneath Kirk’s skin.

Kirk was curiously sensitive, each light touch enough to make him twist. He even squirmed as Spock laved his skin, his hips jutting at odd angles. Spock could tell he was trying to pull away, but at the same time, trying to strain for more. His body was caught between two mutually exclusive desires, but Spock knew exactly how to end that particular inner battle. His tongue circled Kirk’s navel, the very tip drawing a tight circle, as he hooked his fingers around Kirk’s waistband and pulled them down his hips until his erection sprung free from the confines.

“Spock…I don’t know what’s gotten into you but…I like it.”

That was the last time Jim Kirk had the ability to form a full sentence until long after the lift doors opened and allowed them to exit.

Spock started at the very tip of his penis, and a different sort of flavor exploded against his taste buds. The clear fluid there was salty, just as Kirk’s sweat had been. But the pre-come didn’t taste of bitter adrenaline and the stress of battle. It tasted of pure arousal. The fluid was thick and layered across his tongue, a promise of what was to come. As soon as he licked it away, more replaced it, almost as though Kirk’s body was producing it specifically for Spock’s pleasure.

Spock closed his lips around the head of Kirk’s penis, creating a tight seal around the throbbing flesh. He sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing, and Kirk shouted in response. It was more a yelp. Or a bark of surprise. His hips slammed forward, but he was unable to push more of his length into Spock’s mouth—because Spock would not grant him another inch. He wanted to suck more of the slick pre-come from Kirk’s body. He pushed the tip of his tongue into the leaking slit, seeking more of the delicious taste. Spock could rationalize almost everything he did with Kirk, but he could not explain why he found that particular thing so pleasing.

“Spock…Spock…” But he wasn’t forming real words. Not quite. They were hints of words. Wisps of sound. The hand on Spock’s neck moved to the back of his head, but Kirk didn’t waste his time, or his strength, in an attempt to make Spock move. “You are…You’re…”

Spock didn’t lift his head to ask for clarification. It wasn’t that important. Especially since he had no doubt that both of them would be deeply disappointed by the loss of contact. He slipped his hand between Kirk’s legs, his long fingers reaching past Kirk’s scrotum. Kirk realized what he was doing and tried to widen his legs, but it was an impossible task. His pants were still caught around his thighs, making any additional movement too difficult to accomplish. Spock didn’t need him to try.

One slim finger pushed between Kirk’s buttocks, seeking out his opening. Kirk always tensed when Spock tried this—though Kirk knew by now that it didn’t hurt—so Spock didn’t give him the chance. He pushed his finger into Kirk’s channel in a single, easy motion. But he paused, giving Kirk the time he needed to adjust to the intrusion.

“Spock…I know…I know what…”

Despite Kirk’s labored attempt, he couldn’t quite convey what he wanted to. Spock didn’t know if Kirk knew what Spock intended to do and he welcomed it, or if he was trying to offer some sort of warning. But he also knew that they didn’t have all the time in the world, and what Jim needed was only one simple gesture away.

What they both needed, for that matter.

It didn’t always work this way, but Jim was already completely on edge. He needed a way to come down from his adrenaline high before he simply crashed. His flesh was tight and corded with tension that needed to be relieved. Spock knew exactly what he must have been feeling.

Spock curved his finger, dragging the tip across that hidden spot, the secret trigger that always set Jim off. He tensed, his breath whistling between his tight lips. Spock tightened the suction around Jim’s shaft and crooked his finger again, applying more pressure to his prostate. He pressed for one…two…three…four seconds. And then the silence was shattered with a harsh shout that echoed through Spock’s skull.

Come erupted against Spock’s tongue, stream after stream filling his mouth. But his lips were so tight that not even a drop dripped past the seal. He caught every bit of it, savoring it the way he had savored the pre-come. This was yet another taste. Thicker than anything else. Heavier. And completely, utterly, entirely, fully Kirk. Of every flavor he had catalogued on Kirk’s skin, of every taste he had marked, this was the most intense. This was intimacy and hunger. This was need and desire. This was pleasure, deep and real.

Spock swallowed and swallowed, until there was nothing left to milk from Jim’s cock. He cleaned the skin, noting the way the texture changed as he began to soften. When he glanced up through his lashes, he noticed the way Jim’s shoulders were slumping again. And the manic light was gone from his eyes.

Spock calmly pushed himself to his feet, straightened his shirt, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Kirk smiled his gratitude.

“Do you still wish to meet the shuttles, Captain?”

Kirk nodded.

Spock took the control. “Shuttle bay.”

Kirk saw to his clothes, and he looked mostly put together by the time the doors swished open. Spock allowed Kirk to exit first, but Kirk paused just as he stepped out of the list. “Don’t think this is over, Mr. Spock.”

“Of course not, Captain.”

“I expect to see you in my quarters when everything here it taken care of.”

Spock inclined his head in a silent promise, Kirk’s rich taste still lingering on his tongue.

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