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Kirk isn't crazy about the spreader bars, doesn't really care for the suspension that leaves him high up on his toes, but holy God, Captain Christopher Pike of the I.S.S. Adrasteia is sucking his cock, and they're sideways to the mirror so they can both see him doing it.
Pike's on his knees, every bit as naked as Kirk is, and he's jacking his own cock while he sucks Kirk's. No lube; that'd be messy, and it'd take the edge off the friction burn. No, it's just Pike's hand moving fast and sharp on his cock while he rams his face forward onto Kirk's, rough and brutal, but it's all Pike, all at his pace. This isn't Kirk fucking Pike's mouth; this is Pike fucking himself, and he just happens to be using Kirk's cock to do it.
Kirk groans and closes his eyes, tearing his gaze away from the mirror. It's just too damn much--the mindfuck that comes from watching himself bound like this, knowing he's got no say in the matter; the hot, almost angry feel of Pike's mouth (the man's not careful about his teeth); the sight of Pike on his knees and the knowledge that he's no less dominant for it--he can't look. He can't.
Pike drags his mouth off Kirk's cock and slaps it, hard, hard enough to make Kirk yell. "Fuck--"
"I set you up in front of this mirror and you're too fucking ungrateful to watch?" He slaps Kirk's cock again, every bit as hard. Kirk gets his lower lip between his teeth and bites down. "You think you're gonna get this every day?" Again, Jesus, the man's never let up in his life and he's not starting now. "You look at what I'm doing to you, bitch."
Kirk opens his eyes, looks back in the mirror, and Pike slaps his cock one more time for good measure--goddamnit, that hurts--before grabbing it at the root and swallowing it down again. Kirk moans; the heat from Pike's mouth on top of the heat from being slapped so hard is almost unbearable.
He sees Pike reaching between his legs before he feels it, but that helps, a little; when Pike drives two crossed fingers into Kirk's ass, Kirk just sets his teeth together and growls under his breath. There's nothing, no help, no prep, no lube, just the faintest trace of sweat from his crack, but he can take this. He's taken worse, a dozen times worse a dozen times over, and this time maybe, please God fuck yes maybe, Pike'll actually give Kirk something other than his goddamned fingers. Kirk tries to force himself to relax, but the best he can do is groan and curse and accept it while Pike finishes working those first two fingers in, then adds a third.
Pike backs off Kirk's cock again, and Kirk flinches as he sees Pike's free hand come up. He braces for another hard slap, but it doesn't help much. Between the pain in his ass and the pain from those slaps against his cock, he's almost amazed he's still hard.
He stares right into his own eyes in the mirror, glares at himself. Pike slaps his cock again, and Kirk hisses. Pike laughs.
"Oh, I know that look," Pike says. "You really don't know who to hate more, do you? Me or you." Again, goddamnit. Kirk's eyes squeeze shut. Pike pulls his fingers out of Kirk's ass and gets to his feet, reaching around to the back of Kirk's neck and dragging Kirk's head down. Kirk tries to reach for him, tries to bend his head so Pike doesn't have to stretch up for him, but the way he's straining downward hurts like hell, and in the end Pike has to get up on his toes anyway. He bites down hard on Kirk's lower lip, and Kirk takes it. He holds still, keeps his eyes closed, and thinks about the way his cock's throbbing, aching, probably goddamned leaking by now.
Pike lets him go, pulls away, and then slaps Kirk hard across the face. "Jesus, boy," he growls. He slaps Kirk again, and again, and this doesn't hurt half as much as having his cock hit, so Kirk stays as still as he can, holds back the need to cry out. Pike growls under his breath and keeps slapping him, backhanding him hard across the face, and Kirk feels his lip split and the blood start to run down his chin. Pike's on him in an instant, licking that trickle up, and he reaches up to Kirk's wrists, unbuckling one, then the other, and catching Kirk to keep him upright when his legs threaten to collapse on him.
That doesn't last long, though; Pike shoves Kirk down to his knees, facing the mirror, and kneels behind him. He reaches up to Kirk's throat and forces Kirk to look straight at himself, shaking Kirk hard when Kirk's eyes don't open fast enough.
"Look at you," Pike says. He reaches up with his other hand and twists Kirk's nipple hard; Kirk arches against him, moaning. "You were born for this." He lets Kirk's nipple go. "Put your hand on your dick, boy."
Kirk does. He starts off slow--Pike didn't tell him how fast to take it--but then Pike reaches up and wipes the blood off Kirk's chin, and he rubs his bloodstained fingers against Kirk's lips. Kirk sucks Pike's fingers in, completely goddamned unable to stop himself, and he licks his own blood off them, jerking off so fast this time it's him with the friction burns, so fast that jerking off is almost more pain than pleasure.
Pike's still hard, and Kirk can feel Pike's cock pressing into his lower back. This time, he thinks, this time you've got to do it, you have to fuck me, come on--
But that's as far as Pike takes it, his fingers in Kirk's mouth, his hand on Kirk's throat, and Kirk can't hold back. He twists his face away from the mirror as he comes, squeezing his eyes shut, and even though Pike drags his face back so it's pointing forward again, even though he slaps Kirk hard across the cheek, Kirk still keeps his eyes closed until after the last of it's over and his orgasm is just a sticky mess on his hand, on the carpet. Pike lets him go, and Kirk falls forward, catching himself on one hand, rubbing at his throat, coughing.
"Stubborn bastard," Pike says, but he doesn't sound angry. He sounds more amused than anything. Kirk's half-relieved, half-pissed. Pike's going to lose it one of these days, he's going to make Pike lose it, damn it. He gets his eyes open and looks up at the mirror, looks for Pike in it.
Pike's getting dressed.
Kirk curses under his breath, hands curling into fists. "Son of a bitch."
Pike's back on him in a second, hand in Kirk's hair, dragging him back up to his knees, eyes drilling into Kirk's in the mirror. "What was that?"
"Son--of--a--bitch," Kirk spits.
"Did you want something, bitch?" Pike gives Kirk's head another shake; Kirk's eyes water from the pull in his hair. "Did you forget to beg me for something?"
"I know you want me, goddamnit, so why--"
Pike lets Kirk go, chuckling to himself. "I've seen Vulcans beg better than that. Go shower. You're on duty in an hour."
Kirk struggles to his feet and gets himself into the bathroom, and he takes a hot-water shower--perk of being the captain's bitch, he can use hot water whenever the hell he wants. Pike's gone by the time he's finished, but Kirk's come is still all over the carpet. He leaves it; if Pike wants it cleaned up, he can get someone else to do it.
Vulcans who beg better, he thinks, dressed again and headed down to the armory. Bullshit. I'd pay to see that.
-end-