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Spock is walking down the hallway when he sees Jim barreling towards him.
“Captain? Is everything—”
“Walk with me, Spock,” Jim orders. Spock wastes no time falling into step beside him.
Immediately, Spock can feel his focus shifting. Narrowing. Whatever the problem is, it’s something that Jim is taking very seriously. Spock runs through the possibilities. There’s been no sign of an attack. Did someone sneak onboard the ship? Did Jim receive a troubling message from Starfleet?
Jim strides forward, barely pausing long enough to enter the override code on the door in front of him. As soon as the door slides open, Jim charges inside. Spock follows. It’s Dr. McCoy’s office, Spock registers. Is there some sort of disease outbreak on the ship? Is someone ill?
The door closes and Jim turns. It’s only a fraction of a second before Spock feels Jim pressing against him. Another fraction before Jim is mashing their mouths together.
“Missed you,” Jim growls in between kisses. They’re wet and sloppy and frantic.
“Jim,” Spock breathes, “the doctor—”
“—is on lunch,” Jim finishes. “This was the one place I could think of that we could get to where we could be alone.”
“This is hardly an appropriate location for a captain and his first officer—” Spock’s back hits the door.
“Don’t care.” Jim presses kisses down Spock’s jaw. Nips at his neck. Spock’s hips buck; Jim grabs his waist with one hand and forces him back. “I’m so sick of this alternating schedule thing. I never see you anymore.”
“Will the doctor mind?” Even as he asks, Spock knows it’s a losing battle. All reason is quickly draining out of him as pleasure begins to flood his senses.
“He’ll get over it.” Jim sinks his teeth into the crook of Spock’s neck and Spock can’t help but moan.
Jim presses his knee up against Spock’s groin and Spock wraps his arms around Jim’s neck and grinds forward. The pressure of Jim’s leg feels good against his sheath, against the fra’als that are beginning to stir to life. Spock whimpers. “Jim—”
“You’ve gotta be quiet,” Jim warns. He presses his knee up harder. Spock whines. “Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Spock gasps. “Yes, Jim. Please.”
Jim pulls away, and it takes all of Spock’s strength not to search for more friction.
“Pants down,” Jim orders. “I want you bent over that desk. Now.”
Spock barely has the sense to nod. He pushes his pants down to his knees and hobbles towards McCoy’s desk. Jim’s hand settles between his shoulder blades, shoving him down and Spock lets out a quiet oof as his cheek bounces against the desk’s surface. Jim’s foot makes contact with Spock’s ankle, and Spock obediently spreads his legs wider. The air is cold on his exposed skin, on his twisting fra’als, and the tip of lok. He shivers; it spreads through his whole body with a whimper.
“Fuck, Spock,” Jim whispers. Spock jumps as Jim’s fingers caress the fold of his sheath. “So wet already? I’ve barely even touched you.”
“Jim—”
“Shhhh, quiet, Spock.” Jim’s fingers dip inside, and Spock barely fights back a whine. He forces himself to sit still at the sound of fabric rustling behind him. He tries even harder not to move as he feels the heat of Jim’s body against his.
”Jim,” Spock gasps. He can’t stop his hips from wiggling, his ass from pushing back against the warmth behind him. “Jim, I need you.”
“And you’re gonna be quiet, right?”
Spock nods against the desk, frantic and desperate. “Yes, I—”
He cuts himself off with a loud moan as Jim pushes the head of his cock into his sheath.
”Spock!” Jim hisses through his teeth. “You’ve gotta be quiet!”
Spock bites his lip to keep from crying out as Jim begins to move. At first his thrusts are slow and measured, and it’s almost easy to keep himself in check. Inhale, exhale. In, out. Pleasure buzzes in his brain as Jim’s cock rubs against the walls of his sheath, against the base of his lok.
“Yes, Jim—more, please,” Spock huffs. His fra’als flail, reaching back to wrap around the base of Jim’s cock. Spock can feel the friction of each tendril as it strokes and twists around Jim’s shaft. “More.”
“You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you?” Jim says with a snarl. He pulls back and thrusts forward forcefully, hitting Spock right where he needs him to.
Spock gasps, a moan halfway out his mouth before he stops himself short.
“Good boy,” Jim purrs. “You like that? There’s more where that came from.”
Jim repeats the motion, slowly, again and again. Pull out, thrust in. Pull out, thrust in. Each time, Spock is just a little later in catching the noises that so desperately want to escape.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Jim hisses through his teeth. “I missed that tight pussy of yours. Been thinking about it for days.”
Spock does whine at that, his hands scrambling to find something to hold onto. A padd falls to the floor as he flails, the sound clattering against the walls.
But if Jim notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his movements begin to pick up speed. There’s less time in between thrusts. Less time for Spock to recover.
And then Jim hits him just right, and Spock has no chance of stopping the scream that escapes.
“Spock!” Jim warns. But even with the warning comes another snap of his hips, which pulls out another impossibly loud sound from Spock’s throat.
“Jim,” Spock moans, “Jim.”
“Fuck,” Jim gasps. “Fuck.” He’s moving faster and faster and faster, chasing his own pleasure even as he hisses out another warning. “You’re gonna get us caught.”
Spock’s hips buck. He’s starting to get close, the heat and honey of pleasure pulsing through his veins. Jim’s warnings are lost on him; if anything, they only drive him closer. There’s no differentiation between the sounds anymore—no start and stop to each noise. Instead, Spock is just letting out one continuous wail, punctuated with the sound of skin slapping on skin.
Spock feels the weight of Jim’s body push against his back moments before a hand clamps over his mouth.
“You’re not following instructions very well,” Jim breathes in his ear. “At this pace, you’ll be lucky if I let you get off at all.”
Jim’s hips snap again and again and again. He’s moving frantically enough that Spock can tell he’s getting close. That he’s just a few pumps away from finding his own release.
“Gonna come inside you,” Jim gasps. “Gonna make you walk around the rest of your shift like that.”
Spock’s needy whine is barely muffled by Jim’s hand.
And then, without any more warning, Jim’s cock pulses, and he shoots hot come deep into Spock’s sheath. Spock trembles. He’s so close. He’s right there—
“Who the hell is in my office?”
The shout comes from down the hall, but it’s enough to make Jim freeze moments before Spock gets what he needs.
“Shit. He’s back early. We’ve gotta get cleaned up.”
Jim tries to pull free, only to find the fra’als keeping him firmly in place.
“Spock,” Jim hisses. “You’ve gotta let go. Bones is gonna be here any second.”
Jim tries to straighten up again, and his hand falls away from Spock’s mouth.
“I cannot,” Spock pants. “The fra’als are meant to keep us locked together until both parties climax.”
”What? That’s never been a problem before!”
“I tend to orgasm before you,” Spock answers simply. His voice is hoarse. “It is unfortunate that was not the case this time.”
“Fuck, Spock, I—”
“I swear, Jim, if it’s you again…”
This time, McCoy’s voice is directly outside the door.
“Again?” Spock whispers.
“Oh, like this is my fault,” Jim growls back.
And then the door opens.
Spock doesn’t see it, but he hears the telltale swish that lets him know that they’ve been caught.
“And why am I not surprised?” McCoy snaps. “What, you two have nothing better to do than desecrate my desk?”
Humiliation soaks into Spock’s bones. He squirms, wondering just how many sets of eyes are on him from the doorway. Is it just McCoy? Are the nurses there too? Random passers-by?
Spock tightens around Jim’s quickly softening cock. Jim tries to pull away again.
“What, and you didn’t even have the decency to separate yourselves?” There’s footsteps as McCoy stomps into the room. He steps into Spock’s field of vision, glaring them both down. “You’re pathetic, both of you.”
And that judgemental degradation is all it takes for Spock to finally come.