Subject:	NEW: Winning and Losing 1/3 (TOS, K/S, NC-17)

From:	Laura Jacquez Valentine 

Date:         5 Nov 1998 00:41:20 -0500

  





Author: Laura Jacquez Valentine (laurav@stones.com)

Title: Winning and Losing

Rating: NC-17

Series:TOS

Codes: K/S

Parts:1/

Summary: Spock's choice of nightwear intrigues his captain, leading to

certain...consequences. 



Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek.  I don't own much of a

damn thing.  This story contains male/male sex, so please don't read

it if slash ain't your cuppa joe.



This was inspired by the Pajama Game thread on ASCEM.  Yee-hah.



----------------

Well, I lose my bet.  Not that I mind.  Losing was worth it.  McCoy

claimed Spock would wear something...well, logical.  Which...not that

Spock's pajamas were impractical, but they are--I don't believe I'm

saying this--sexy.  One simply shouldn't get a hard-on watching one's

first officer walk around dressed for bed.



It was only logical that we room together, after all.  A working shore

leave is better than no shore leave, but there's no sense in having to

worry about meeting at appropriate times, dealing with scheduling and

the vaguaries of public transport.  This way we stayed together.  More

efficient, certainly.



But my cock seemed to have other ideas.  It was used to enjoying

itself on shore leave, and in the absence of something perky and

blond, it had apparently decided that somber and dark was its type.



God, was he ever its type.



And he's my first officer.



And the black and tan silk tunic and loose pants were...beautiful on

him.  He moved gracefully around the small kitchen, preparing

chamomile tea for both of us.  I flicked through holoprograms,

pretending not to watch him, not to see his muscles gliding under the

silk, not to lose myself in his air of contained power.



Oh, yes, Spock is power.  My power.  I'm not exactly your average

'Fleet captain, but a lot of that is Spock's doing.  I'd be dead fifty

times over but for him.  Sometimes I think that I am the blade Spock

wields, that it is he who is control--and sometimes I think I am

wielding him, and sometimes we are guarding each others backs, and

sometimes I'd like to fuck him until he screams.



Where did that come from, I wonder?



Not that it hasn't crossed my mind before.  Somber and dark is

certainly one of my types--I like all sorts of types, the main criterion 

being "intelligent".  And Spock's that.  The finest scientific mind I've

ever known, wicked sense of humor, thinks fast on his feet.  What

wouldn't I give to have him not be my first officer, to have him be

just some guy I met on shore leave and took back to my suite.  But

then, of course, he wouldn't have been Spock, and I wouldn't have been

hiding my hard-on under a cushion. 



He walked over and handed me a mug of tea, his fingers just brushing

mine.  I smiled at him as he sat next to me on the small couch, the

scent of freshly-showered Vulcan washing over me.  He smelled slightly

of cinnamon, slightly of musk, slightly of soap.  Even though he

argues against the illogic of a water shower now and then, I've never

known Spock to pass up an opportunity.



I sipped my tea and continued pretending not to watch him.  He found a

news channel and leaned back into the cushions, cradling his mug

against his chest, his long fingers interlaced, his face calm and

relaxed.  His hair, still slightly damp from the shower, just brushed

the high collar of the tunic at the nape of his neck.



I wanted to reach out and brush it away.  Instead I wrapped my hands

around my mug of tea and concentrated on the piece of my own hair,

almost dry now--I had showered before Spock, at his insistence--that

was flopping over my eyes.



I tossed my head back, trying to clear my face, and heard Spock put

his mug down.  I tossed my head again, and felt gentle fingers

stroking the hair back from my forehead.  God, his hands were warm.



---



Subject:	NEW: Winning and Losing 2/3 (TOS, K/S, NC-17)

From:	Laura Jacquez Valentine 

Date:	        5 Nov 1998 00:43:10 -0500





I captured his hand before he could pull away.  "Spock."



"Forgive me, Captain."  His voice was no more than a whisper.



"You do know my name, don't you?"



He nodded and looked away.  I leaned forward and put my mug down,

never releasing his hand.  "Say it, Spock."



"Jim."



"Nothing to forgive, Spock."



"I presumed--"



"How many of my thoughts can you pick up, usually?"



"At this proximity?  Surface emotions, an occasional vocalization--we

have melded a number of times, Jim.  That creates an affinity,

strengthening our already considerable ability to 'read' each other.

Logically--"



"Then it is I who presumed, Spock.  I should have kept my thoughts to

myself." 



He blinked.  He hadn't been expecting that.  I tightened my grip on

his hand and pulled him towards me.  So my actions were at odds with

my words.  Nothing he wasn't used to.  And he hadn't said no, after

all...



Somehow I'd assumed he'd be clumsy or inexperienced.  He was

neither--or 

perhaps he was simply a natural, made for kissing.  At any rate, it

had been quite a while since I'd been kissed as though the other

person really meant it.



His mouth was very warm, and he freed his hand and wrapped his arm

around my waist, pulling me closer.  I was wearing a cotton t-shirt

and long trousers, and I felt woefully underdressed next to him.  Not

that this was uncommon: Spock's practically royalty, and he rarely

looks less than regal.



I broke the kiss, finally.  "Knew I should have kept my thoughts to

myself, Spock, at least for a while.  This couch is too small--I

should have waited until bedtime."



He shifted his weight off of me and I stood up and held out my hand.

Spock never hesitates once he has decided, and he'd decided, all

right. We were on one of the beds in no time flat.  He slipped his

hands underneath my shirt and ran fingernails down my sides.  How he

knew I loved that is beyond me, but then--oh Spock, you know me so

well.



If I'd felt underdressed before, it was nothing to when I was naked

and he was still dressed.  The feel of silk with him inside, sliding

along my body--I closed my eyes and enjoyed his mouth on my skin, his

muscles under my hands, the heat of his body.



He kissed a line down my body, beginning with my neck.  His lips and

teeth teased my nipples, my stomach, my inner thigh.  Then I felt his

warm breath on my cock, an instant before he took it in his mouth.  I

knotted my hands in the sheets as he swirled his tongue around my

cock, as he stroked my chest with one hand and lifted my ass with the

other until he rested it on his knees.  He was more flexible than I

had expected.



He stopped just short of making me come.  I could feel his arousal

through the silk, nudging gently between my legs.  Then, with one

smooth motion, he slid me off of him onto the bed and stood.  I

watched him undress, watching the clothes flow down his body as though

alive, and I envied them, touching him that way.



He lay down next to me and propped his head up on his hand.  "Well?"

he asked, when I did nothing.  I smiled and pressed against him,

feeling his skin--smoother than silk, that moisture-retaining Vulcan

skin--against mine, finally.  He yielded to me, offered his body to

me, and I took what he offered.



Spock, ever-prepared, seemed to pluck a jar of lubricating jelly out

of thin air.  I still haven't figured out where he was hiding it, or

how he had the foresight to bring it on leave with him.



I smeared lubricant over my fingers and gently spread his legs,

reaching 

between them to stretch the small opening.  I didn't know if he had

done this before, though if mine was the first cock he'd sucked--well,

he wouldn't need much practice to fetch top dollar for that on

Wrigley's.



I slid him up onto my knees, reversing our earlier positions.  He was

as ready as he was ever going to be, and I couldn't wait any longer.

Despite the rumors, I'm only human.





---

Subject:	NEW: Winning and Losing 3/3 (TOS, K/S, NC-17)

From:	Laura Jacquez Valentine 

Date:        5 Nov 1998 00:44:11 -0500

 





I placed the tip of my cock against him and pushed forward gently.  I

had assumed he'd be rather tense, even with the loosening-up, but he

wasn't.  And the sight of Spock arching his back, his lips parted, as

I slid into him was the most incredible thing I'd seen in a long, long

time.  Spock, the beautiful.



I began to move slowly, still afraid of hurting him, but Spock was

demanding more of me with each passing moment.  He locked his legs

behind me and pulled me deeper into him.  His cock, deep forest-green,

rubbed against my stomach and I lifted him upright against me so that

I could kiss him again.



I pressed him close and moved into him and bit his lips softly, and he

tangled his fingers in my hair.  I could feel the orgasm building in

him as it built in me, and we came at the same time.  And while he

didn't scream, he did call my name, his head flung back, his body

flushed. All that power and beauty at my command.



We shared a shower together afterwards, and despite an attack of Roman

Hands on my part, we finished in good time.  I didn't even give into

the temptation of kissing him to death under the spray.



Later, as I lay next to him in bed, I screwed up my courage and asked

the question that was nagging at me.  "What do we do now, Spock?

Surely you've worked out a plan."



"Of course, Jim.  Since I very much doubt a sexual relationship

between us will change our working relationship, we can either

continue this liason on the ship, or we can end it after this leave."



"Which would you prefer?"



I could've sworn he smiled at me.  "Captain's privilege, sir.  It is

your choice, of course." In Spockese, that means: "I want the whole

enchilada, but I'll never admit it."  He'd never allow me to choose

unless an ongoing relationship  was what he wanted--and what he wasn't

sure I wanted.



"Prevaricator."  I wrapped an arm around him.  "I may as well tell

you, I've lost 100 credits to McCoy on a bet about what you wore to

sleep in."



He raised an eyebrow, unsure where I was going with this.  I kissed

him unhurriedly, then said "I have to have a consolation prize, don't

I? Say, a piece of Vulcan artwork that I can show off to my mother

when we get back to Earth?"



This time he did smile, and I took a moment to thank God that somber

and dark was indeed one of my types.



---



The End.

Feedback to jacquez+@andrew.cmu.edu or laurav@stones.com