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Story Notes:

Paramount, its heirs and assigns, and possibly CBS, own Star Trek.  I make no profit therefrom.  


This is PWP, I am ashamed to say and I ask forgiveness for the sins committed therein.

Age of Unreason


Spock laid his forehead on the substantial swell of Jim’s belly and sighed.  The sharp sound of Jim’s snoring hurt his ears.  He opened his eyes to Jim’s limp member, curled against a still powerful thigh, a thin trail of fluid leaking from the tip, a reminder of his failure as Jim’s lover.


Age was rarely kind to anyone.  In the case of Jim Kirk, it was evident only in the size of his girth and the gray hairs peppering his body and head.  Only Spock knew that Jim tired more easily and was harder to sexually arouse.  Sometimes, it was quite impossible.


Tonight was an example.  Spock had tried to bring Jim to climax for over forty-five minutes, using an impressive series of techniques learned over many decades.  Ultimately, none had worked and Jim had slipped into sleep, leaving Spock to fret, dissatified with his own performance.


Spock was brilliant. He was knowledgeable in areas as diverse as physics, philosophy, history, and art.  He was the reigning expert in all things Jim.  And yet, he was unsuccessful.  Worse, he was well aware that when Jim woke up, he’d be embarrassed and depressed over his lack of libido.


Spock was not known for turning away from a challenge.  He began by assessing what had not worked for Jim.  Fellatio was usually a sure thing, including direct stimulation of his prostate with both toys and hands.  Not this time, though.  Restraining Jim, in conjunction with light spanking, clips and gags usually worked but hadn’t recently.  Certain medications along with a light meld would move things along but Jim was adverse to the idea. He said that was cheating.


Jim didn’t seem overly concerned, offering himself to Spock regardless of whether or not he experienced release.  Spock knew better, though.  Jim’s lack of response made him feel old and useless, so different from the man Spock had fallen in love with so many years ago.


Spock had gone so far as to ask McCoy.  The good doctor had predictably covered his ears but then remarked, unhelpfully, that “it’s just something that happens when you get old, not that you’d know, you god-damn hobgoblin.”


Spock did know, however.  He was half-human after all and had felt his bodily functions slowing, if not halting.  Moreover, being bonded to a human meant he felt what Jim did and it was heartbreaking.  


Spock turned his incredible mind to what might work.  Over the years, they’d tried many sexual positions and explored various kinks.  Some had appealed to one of them, some had appealed to both.  Jim enjoyed using his imagination and setting certain scenes.  Spock suspected that might be the right tack.




Jim liked to ride home on the old subway in San Francisco.  There was something about the cracked and dirty windows and the press of beings that appealed to him.  Tonight, it made him tired.  The sound of the rails annoyed him.  The smell of ancient plastic made him slightly nauseous.  Perhaps he should have taken an air car.  He’d be home already.  But there wasn’t anything to go home to, Spock was at a conference and wouldn’t return for another three days.  The thought depressed him.


Jim exited at his stop and began the long climb up the hill to the old brownstone he and Spock had called home for over a decade.  His steps slowed as he reached the front door and tiredly placed his hand over the security panel.  The light blinked twice and Jim twisted the old doorknob, letting himself in.  He kicked the door closed behind him and placed his bag and uniform jacket on the bench by the door and toed off his boots.  Since Spock wasn’t there to remind him to clean up, he left them in an untidy pile and padded to the kitchen.


Jim didn’t bother to turn on the kitchen lights. He opened the refrigerator door, staring blankly inside.  He frowned at a bottle of Vulcan ale, sitting in the door.  He didn’t remember it being there, but then, his memory wasn’t quite what it used to be.  


He poured himself a glass and sat down at the kitchen table, wondering where the cat was.  Dundee usually had greeted him by now, meowing dinner suggestions.  He glanced at the cat door and assumed she was still outside, probably looking for handouts from his neighbors.


Jim sighed and flicked on the entertainment screen.  Instead of the usual news program, there was a documentary on pre-reform Vulcan.  Jim was tired of the relentlessly bad news and sat back to enjoy it.  


The program was unusual.  Since it was in Vulcan, Jim switched off the sound, trying to make sense of the pictures and videos streaming across the screen. Instead of focusing on Surak and the illogic of pre-reform Vulcan, it explored the arts, music, dance, ancient sculpture and paintings, with an emphasis on the erotic.  Long ago, Jim had been surprised, much to Spock’s amusement, that some of the ancient treasures on Vulcan were highly sexualized renditions of combat.  They both had found the depictions of warriors stimulating.


Jim watched the program, gradually becoming aroused.  He glanced down at his lap, his erection deforming the fit of his dress pants and sighed. Too bad Spock was gone.  Tonight he might have been able to make up for their recent disappointments.


His eyes snapped back to the screen when a particularly erotic artifact appeared.  It was a painting of a warrior in full battle gear, touching himself while another warrior knelt before him, arms extended in supplication.  Jim admired the warrior’s blatant sexuality and the theme of submission. He had readily knelt before Spock, hands tied behind his back a few times.  


Jim gulped and grabbed his cock.  This was certainly more exciting than the petroglyphs in the L’langon Mountains.  


The documentary shifted to a metal sculpture.  It was beautifully rendered, depicting two warriors, naked except for banners draped across their shoulders.  Highly aroused, they appeared to be fighting to the death, one held against the other’s chest by a powerful arm across his throat.  The other warrior stood behind, buried deep in the other’s body.  Both faces were twisted with desire.  Clearly, death would be satisfying for both.


Jim shifted on his chair and unzipped his pants.  He couldn’t remember when he’d been this hard.  He stroked himself, deliberately keeping his arousal on a keen edge. God, what he would give to have Spock here right now bending him over the table, hands at his throat.  Jim could almost feel Spock’s sharp teeth raking his spine.


Considering whether or not to move this to the bedroom, his attention again was caught by a new picture, a mosaic tile floor in a cavern used for ancient rituals.  It was in pristine condition, colors still vibrant.  It depicted a battlefield littered with bodies. The prevailing clan clustered around a lone warrior. He was being sodomnized while the others watched, waiting their turn.  The mosaic showed exaggerated erections on all the men, even the victim.  


Spock had explained that such depictions were not precisely rape, rather a show of dominance.  When one clan prevailed in battle, it had been common practice to take the losers, forcing them into servitude.  


Perhaps because Jim had to be in control in all aspects of his career, he understood this and craved to be the submissive partner on occasion. Initially, this had struck Spock as odd.  After much practice though, he’d grown to enjoy dominating Jim.  Jim thought he liked gagging him a bit too much, however.  Spock frequently and patiently explained he did not require Jim to do a monologue during coitus.


Laughing at the memory, Jim switched off the documentary and got to his feet.  There was no evidence of flagging desire now.  The question was, how to enjoy it.  He discarded the idea of taking it to the shower or the bed.  Too vanilla after what he had just watched.   However, there was the gym.  He had set aside the spare bedroom and fit it with workout equipment years ago.  Jim didn’t use it as much as he should, but it had a bench, weights, and more importantly, a lock box full of toys.


Jim rubbed damp palms together.  A quick shower and a trip to the gym.   He could use a few of the toys while lifting weights. Jim bounded up the stairs, chuckling, trying to imagine Spock’s face if he knew what he was up to.  Perhaps when he came home, they could create a little ‘scene’ of their own. 


The shower was brief; Jim used the time to keep his interest sharp.  Finally, dressed in light cotton sweats and an old t-shirt, he padded down the hall and into the gym.  


His first indication that something was off was the smell.  The room reeked of incense.  The second was the fact that the lights didn’t come on.  In fact, the only light came through the large bay window.  Jim frowned and was about to leave and check the house computer, when a figure stepped out of the shadows.  He braced himself, falling into a defensive crouch until he realized the figure was Spock, moving toward him soundlessly.


“Spock!  My god!  You scared the hell out of me!  What are you doing home?  What . . .” Jim walked eagerly toward him arms outstretched when Spock’s voice stopped him.


“Kroykah!” Spock’s low voice continued, speaking rapidly in Vulcan.  Jim eyed him warily.  Spock rarely spoke Vulcan at home, well aware that Jim had only minimal understanding of the difficult language. And Spock looked different tonight. He wore robes, far more ornate than Jim had ever seen under an elaborately tied sash.  His hands were encased in long gloves, secured at the wrist by metal guards.


Jim stood there, stunned.  Spock looked like the ancient warriors portrayed in the documentary.  Things began to click into place.  Jim was nothing if not predictable.  Every night he had the same routine, go to the kitchen, watch the news, take a shower . . . Damn it!  Spock had this planned.  Jim would bet that Spock had programmed that documentary.  It wouldn’t surprise him if he had the thing made!  Clever Vulcan.


Jim took a quick look around the dim room.  It was empty except for the large equipment, which had been pushed against the wall and draped with cloth.  The only remaining furniture was a narrow bench in the center.  Spock looked at it pointedly.


Crossing his arms, Jim tried to look defiant.  Spock turned his back and moved about the room, lighting candles, deliberately ignoring him.  Finally, Jim couldn’t stand it any longer.  He strode across the room and grabbed Spock’s arm, intending to turn him around.


He was well aware Spock was stronger, if not faster than he was.  Jim tended to forget, now that they had moved into the gentler pace of near retirement, exactly how powerful his grip actually was.  Jim was reminded when Spock seized his arm and wrenching it behind him, marched him over to the bench and laid him across it.


If Jim had had the element of surprise, been younger and fitter, he might have escaped Spock’s grasp.  He could do nothing to stop his legs being spread and secured to the bench.  He couldn’t prevent his hands being locked together behind his back.  When the gag was put in his mouth like a horse’s bit, he took it. 


Spock was silent as he ripped Jim pants and shirt off, leaving him exposed.  Jim felt a gloved hand trace its way down his spine, finally stopping at his spread buttocks.  Spock’s warm body was easily felt, like a heat source.  When it moved silently away, Jim tensed.  He heard the sound of his toy box opening and Spock’s murmuring as he went through it, evidently looking for something.  Jim shifted on the bench, uncomfortable but very aroused.  The anticipation was almost too much to bear.


After a moment, Spock returned.  Long fingers pulled his cheeks apart.  Spock broke his silence, sharp Vulcan consonants demanding something.  Jim didn’t understand but tried to relax.  He was rewarded by a gloved hand stroking his lower back while something was inserted in his ass.  It was long and narrow, maybe a finger, maybe a plug.  


Spock gave him time to get used to it.  Jim moaned when the object was moved in and out, side to side, stretching him.  Spock left him then, circling the room.  Jim saw a flare of light and the smell of heady incense grew stronger, making him slightly dizzy.  


When Spock returned, he pulled out the object and replaced it with something larger, thicker, and ridged.  A vibrator of some sort, then.  It was well lubed, sliding in deeply, just nudging his prostate.  Jim grunted at the assault, eagerly pushing back with his hips.  Spock spoke to him sharply and slapped him hard, making Jim buck with surprise.   Jim understood he wasn’t to move, no matter how excited he was. He mouthed the rubber gag and closed his eyes.  


Splayed as he was, naked and exposed, Jim sunk into the fantasy.  Spock would play with him, taking his own pleasure, allowing Jim to find release only when he allowed it.   He was well aware that Spock could hold him on the edge almost indefinitely. Jim used every ounce of control to keep himself quiet while he waited and anticipated Spock’s next assault.


Spock seemed satisfied with his response and once again Jim felt his gloved fingers, now massaging around the vibrator. With a twist of his hand, Spock turned it on and Jim felt a deep vibration inside him.  Jim gasped as the hum filled him.  Spock slowly moved it in and out of Jim’s body, briefly angling it up to graze his prostate.  Jim tried to stay still, moaning as Spock continued to stimulate him, almost beyond endurance.  


After being lovers for so many years, of course Spock knew when Jim was getting dangerously close.  He removed the vibrator gently and released Jim’s legs.  Spock helped him to his feet, leaving his hands bound behind him.  When he was sure Jim was steady, he guided him to his knees and ran his hands through Jim’s thinning hair.  Spock stroked his face, his gloves feeling strange against Jim’s skin.  He reached behind Jim’s head and removed the gag.  


For the first time, Jim could see Spock’s face clearly.  His eyes were shining with affection, his mouth curved in a satisfied smile.  Jim had never loved him more than at that moment.


Thumb grazing Jim’s lips, Spock’s other hand opened his robe, exposing himself.  The sharp scent of Spock’s pheromones filled Jim’s senses. His gaze dropped to Spock’s erection and he reached forward and allowed his cheek to graze it gently, nuzzling the dark hair of Spock’s groin.  Spock grabbed the sides of his face then, eyes hardening and forced his cock into Jim’s mouth.  Jim swallowed around him, gagging, trying to lick the edges with the flat of his tongue.  Spock paid no heed, fucking his mouth furiously.


Jim’s hips thrust in time with Spock’s.  As Spock took his mouth, Jim’s eyes began to stream and he opened his mouth wider trying to breath around it.  He could tell by the snap of Spock’s hips, he was getting close and wondered if that was how it would end.  Suddenly, Spock stopped and withdrew, rubbing the glands of his shaft against Jim’s face, marking him with scent and fluid.


Jim was shaking.  Every inch of skin was on fire and he’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted Spock at that moment.  Spock complied by turning Jim and pushing his shoulders into the rough carpet.  Jim heard Spock kneel behind him and wasn’t surprised when Spock’ breached him abruptly.  


Spock was normally a gentle, considerate lover.  Tonight he was not.  He took Jim aggressively.  Jim felt the sharp movement of his hips, his grunts, the feel of sweat, the smell of musk and sex and Jim began to drift.  He had reached the point where his endorphins had taken over and there was nothing but instinct left.


Spock filled him in the way the vibrator had not.  His living, breathing body surrounded Jim and impaled him.  Each hard thrust drove Spock deeper until their balls were almost crushed together.  Spock reached around, cruelly twisting Jim’s nipple while his other hand teased Jim’s cock.  Jim tried to push into that contact, desperate now for release.


Jim felt Spock quicken behind him and knew what that meant.  Jim pushed back now, just as aggressively as Spock.  At one point, Spock released his wrists, allowing Jim more movement.  When things reached their crisis, Spock yelled Jim’s name and stripped Jim’s cock.  That was all it took.  


Jim swore he didn’t faint, but Spock knew better. Spock picked up Jim’s unconscious body and carried him to bed. His reward was to be serenaded through out the night with a cacophony of snoring such that Spock feared at one point the neighbors might complain.


Jim himself had no memory of it.  The next morning though, he was greeted with fresh coffee in bed and informed that Spock had called the Admiralty on his behalf, as he was in no condition to go to work.  Indeed, it was several days before his Vulcan lover allowed him to leave the bed.  


No one needed to know that he remained in thrall to his husband during that time.  Clever Vulcan.



Chapter End Notes:

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