insurgents | OPEN POST.

I believe it is wise for me to be the final judge on your state.

I will not allow you to be harmed in any way.

unless I ask for it, right?

Unless you ask for it. Of course.

And even then, within the limits I determine.

spoilsport.

You have not once complained, to date.

Would this be the first?

depends on whether or not you'll stop when I say 'more'

I do believe that the appeal of the act derives from the fact that I alone decide what you receive.

so you'd deny me what I want? even if I ask for it? even if I beg?

It would not be easy. But if I believe it to be more beneficial or more pleasurable for you, then yes.

screw that. I like it when it hurts. so make me hurt, Spock, take me apart. don't deny me that.

This is unfair, Jim.

I cannot text you sexually stimulating material but the same restriction does not extend to you.

suck it up, pointy. life's unfair.

just like I've got to make the rest of this walk with a hard on in my pants but you don't hear me complaining about it.

Pointy.

I do believe you are asking quite directly to be hurt, now.

yes.

[ A second later, another text follows. ]

please.

I do not believe that is the proper way to make the request.

I was going for something a little more creative.
looks like it's working too, if you ask me.

Get to the room.

Now, Jim.

Damn if that short text doesn't shoot a jolt of pleasure right down his spine. Jim bites back a groan and that's all he can do not to trip all over his feet while he's walking.

Immensely unfair— but immensely satisfying to know he can affect Spock so easily. He types up a quick text —a brief but still teasing yes, sir— then there's nothing more coming from him, and there won't be until he finally makes it back to the ship.

At this point he's sure his destination isn't a secret to the rest of the group, nor is what he and Spock are about to do. Well, the general idea anyway. No way they could know the details (except maybe for Bones, who might've caught a glimpse of the start of their conversation when he had the phone in his possession).

Regardless, what matters is that none of them try to stop him. Bones makes a vague comment about tradition but then wanders off to his own quarters, while Jim all but runs down the hallway on the deck of their bedroom, stopping for a brief moment while standing right in front of the door.

Spock's waiting for him on the other side. Jim can't even begin to imagine what might happen the moment that door slides open, but he has no doubt that his fiancé is going to catch him off guard as soon as he steps inside. Something that makes him feel both nervous and excited, and after taking a couple of deep breaths, he finally reaches the control panel.

The door opens, and he steps inside.

Spock is waiting, of course. But off to the side of the door, a smirk on his face that had been there since these texts began. He waits for the hiss saying that the door had shut and then shifts behind his lover, taking the strip of cloth that was in his hands and wrapping it tightly around his eyes. It was a thin fabric that allowed a bit of light through. Not the blindfold Spock would have used for complete sensory deprivation (which might be sitting beside the bed, waiting). This one allowed shadows through. Allowed Jim the ability to get a bearing for where Spock was, in relation to him. See his outline as he leaned in and kissed him softly.

His hand dips down, touching the part of him that is rock hard and probably overly eager for contact, at this point. "I see you were honest regarding your responses to my messages," he hums, already starting to undo the buttons of his trousers, slowly. It's open, then, but not pushed down. Spock's hand slips inside, squeezes, and then rests in an infuriating lack of motion.

"You wanted pain, Jim?" he asks, mouthing against his jaw before giving a light bite where it connected with his neck. "Tell me what you wish for, Jim." His hand moves. Rolls once, then goes still once more. "Tell me what you want."

There's one more bite, harder, around his shoulder. Spock's other hand is exploring the twitching muscles of his side, just under his shirt.

"And I appreciated the honorific. It can remain."

Despite being ready for the unexpected, Jim still lets out a sound of surprise when something's put over his eyes, though he doesn't so much as tense or flinch. He knows it's Spock, after all, and when he leans in and kisses him, he easily returns it, the contact breaking when a hand slides down and cups his bulge, a shaky moan spilling from his lips.

It's both a blessing and a torture, the way Spock touches him. He should've known he'd do this, but still when that hand stills Jim all but cries out in frustration, his hips bucking hard as his hands cling to Spock's shoulders. The tone in his voice spills like molten gold into him, making him burn from the inside out, and Jim feels like hearing him alone would be enough to push him over the edge at this point.

"Yes," he mewls out, his head tipping back and his whole body jolting and arching when the hand moves again. Then stops. Fuck, Spock's gonna drive him mad— and he's going to let him. "Ropes. Use the ropes. Tie me down."

A brief pause, as he sucks in a breath at the hand sliding underneath his shirt and the teeth digging into his shoulder. "Please... sir."

"Hm," Spock hums, somehow making the small noise sound disappointed. "Unimaginative," he explains, not quite 'tsking' his lover, but making it clear all the same that he would, were he a different person. "You already requested the rope. Therefore it is redundant to use your opportunity now to reiterate a wish already granted." There is a whisper of something moving against fabric, behind Jim. Then the tease of a rough rope against the sensitive skin on the inside of his arms. Spock's hand leaves his groin and his presence shifts behind Jim, letting his fingertips trail after the abrasive material. Soothing as he rubs raw.

"In a normal situation, I would not allow you another opportunity," he explains, the words humid as he speaks them quietly against the shell of Jim's ear. "However, I understand that your evening has had little in the way of thought and much in the way of instinctual servicing of animal needs."

The rope shifts, tying around one wrist tight and then releasing, again. Not starting, then. Not yet. Spock can draw this part of the evening out for hours, if he wished to. And part of him does. His lips kiss the back of Jim's neck, inching his hand around his side, under his shirt. Exploring up his abdominal muscles and then down to the open Y of his pants. Cupping him once more, squeezing, and then journeying upwards and away once more.

"I ask once more. Do you have any requests, Jim? What do you want? This is your final opportunity."

Jim gasps when he feels the rope brush against sensitive skin, letting out a heavy laugh, dying out halfway up his throat. Of course Spock would tease; of course he'd taunt him until he was a whimpering and begging mess on his knees, and of course Jim would enjoy it a little too much.

The longer Spock denies him, and the longer Jim himself asks and begs and keeps tempting him in all the ways he knows get to Spock the most, the better it will be when Spock finally gives in. Like each passing second he just gets closer to acting entirely irrationally, passionately, aggressively. The mere thought sends a jolt of pleasure down Jim's spine, pooling between his legs.

"You're so good to me, sir," Jim says that warmly, somehow managing to sound every bit like a brat, lips quirking a little as he curls his hands into fists, then relaxes them again, whimpering when that tempting hand leaves his aching cock again. "They're not tight enough. I want them tighter. Want you to do it so I can't move."

Or... well, not move as much. Either way he trusts Spock not to tie him in a harmful way, and he's all too familiar with Jim's safe words by now to know he has to stop if Jim gives that signal. Not that he expects to. They know each other too well by now.

"Are you gonna choke me with the rope?" He tries to sound even, but it's impossible to miss the way his breath hitches at the thought. His hips shift, and Jim rolls them back to press his ass against Spock's groin, rubbing himself against him. "Or are you gonna use your hands?"

"Parience," he reminds, plainly amused as he moves out of reach once more. The rope is tied tight around his wrists. Tight enough that Jim will be able to feel his pulse pound against it but not hard enough to cause numbness. There's a lead on it that Spock tugs, dragging Jim back enough to throw him off balance but not enough to make him actually fall. From there, it's easy enough to loop a finger into Jim's trousers and pull him forward, toward where the bed is, walking slow enough for him to blindly follow.

There's a chair placed by it and Spock pauses right in front of it before helping Jim onto his knees and only then sitting in it. The blindfold is removed, Spock looking almost bored as he ties it around Jim's neck and finally answers his question.

"I have plans," is all Jim gets. "However, I am displeased. We have engaged in this activity multiple times, at this point. And your interest in having your breathing restricted had not been shared. This has resulted in a potential reward you have been deprived of needlessly."

Which isn't fair, really. Spock had not asked many questions. This particular aspect of their relationship was relatively new still for the both for them. However, he can't resist to make Jim squirm.

"Perhaps you should explain to me why you are deserving of this reward, now?"

And just to help Jim start getting into the right headspace, he reaches around and grabs a handful of his hair, pulling it back sharply to expose his neck with the black fabric wrapped around it. His fingertips trail over the blue veins, the twitching Adam's apple.

"Do not try my patience. You will find it already greatly reduced and the penalties for expending it further unpleasant ."

Well, it's a start at least, and Jim lets out a pleased little sound when Spock tugs him along, managing to follow after without tripping over his own feet, and gladly falling to his knees without needing much prompting. As much as he enjoys having a smart answer at the tip of his tongue in situations like this one, all in all he's very pliant, easy, and for the lack of a better word, obedient.

He licks his lips while he hears Spock shift around just in front of him, curving them into a smile when finally the blindfold falls and he gets confirmation of their current positions. Which, for the record, he finds very pleasing and very promising both.

Slow breaths, Jim's knees shift on the floor, getting himself into a comfortable enough position as he sits back on his heels, dark eyes looking up Spock's figure, lingering on the bulge in his trousers, then up to finally lock their gazes together.

But before he can manage some smart little quip, Spock's tugging hard at his hair, teasing at the all too sensitive skin of his neck. He gasps audibly, barely managing to keep back a whine, his eyes fluttering closed as he licks his parted lips again, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows dry.

"I didn't... didn't remember," he answers honestly, and feels both sad and pleased that he did forget. If it gets Spock to react like this now, well... he can't say he minds the wait. At all. "I'm sorry. Didn't cross my mind— before."

Cracking his eyes open just a hint, he manages a crooked smile. Probably more teasing than it should be right now. "Better late than never?"

Wrong answer.

Spock yanks the hair all the harder before letting it go and shifting back in his seat. "I asked for an explanation for why you deserved a reward. And you have made the decision to respond glibly. Unwise." He stands, walking a few steps away, out of Jim's view.

"Perhaps I should clarify the punishment you are on the verge of experiencing. If I do, you may be less inclined to run toward it." His hands are undoing Jim's ties carefully. Removing the restriction without causing additional pain.

"Masochistic individuals often behave poorly as pain is seen as a reward to them. They believe upsetting anothet will therefore give them what they desire. This will not be the case with you and I, Jim."

He's back in his chair, the rope loose in his hands.

"I know you. Intimately. And I know an effective way of punishing you will be a lack of any stimulus at all." No rope. No hands. No lips. Nothing at all.

"So, I will ask you a final time in the hopes you will be less inclined to test my resolve: why are you deserving of a reward?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

rolls with it

HA! I was wondering why the text boomeranging had stopped.

yes i slipped and fell into all these words. <<

Spock is a brat.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject