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logo by saridout
Title: A Piece of Something Beginning with 'A'
Author: Deirdre Riordan (deirdre.riordan @ gmail.com)
Series: TOS
Codes: K/S, PWP, BDSM
Rating: NC-17
Parts: 1/1
Warnings: Umm... gunplay? This is a filthy story.
Disclaimer: If you want to sue me, I didn't write this. My cat did. And he doesn't have any money.
Archive: Please ask.
Summary: Set immediately after "A Piece of the Action." Jim brought a few things back from Iotia...
Notes: Inspired by a line in "Less" by Hypatia Kosh. I'll tell you which one at the end, if you haven't figured it out by then.
Please send any and all comments to deirdre. riordan @ gmail.com.

A Piece of Something Beginning with 'A'

Spock was happy to be in normal clothing again after the Enterprise's...interesting foray into the society of Sigma Iotia II. Their culture was fascinating, yes, but he considered himself well out of it, and hoped that by now his bondmate would have ceased speaking with that ridiculous affectation he had picked up from the natives.

Responding to Jim's message to meet him for dinner, he entered his code on the keypad outside the door of the Captain's quarters, only to find that the door was under privacy lock. He smiled inwardly, knowing this could only mean one thing. The last time he had found this door privacy-locked, he'd entered to find Jim naked on the bed and surrounded by strawberries. The door could only be opened on the voice authorization of two people other than the Captain: himself and Dr. McCoy, the latter being in case of a medical emergency.

He looked down the corridor, making sure no one was around. "Computer, disengage privacy lock. Authorization Lieutenant Commander Spock."

"Privacy lock disengaged," the computer responded.

"Re-engage when door closes."


The door opened and Spock stepped inside, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a tommy gun. At the other end of it was Jim, once again dressed in his gangster suit, complete with fedora. His first instinct was to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Good thinkin', Spock." Yes, he was still using the accent.  

Spock played along, having a good idea of what it was Jim wanted. "I will offer no resistance."

"That's what I like to hear." Jim lowered the gun from Spock's face. "Now strip," he said, gesturing to Spock's clothes with the weapon.

Spock complied, removing his uniform slowly, never breaking eye contact. Jim had that wild, dangerous look in his eyes that he got at times like this. He trailed the gun down Spock's naked body, eyeing him appreciatively and licking his lips. Spock shivered at the cold metal.

Jim shoved the gun into his chest. "On the bed."

Spock hesitated.

"Now," he growled.

Spock sat down on the bed.

"Lie down."

Spock reclined, his growing arousal now very obvious.

Jim moved onto the bed, straddling Spock's legs, and shoving the tip of the gun into his mouth. He smiled devilishly at Spock's muffled protest. "Now touch yourself."

He obeyed, his gaze fixed on the bulge in Jim's pinstriped slacks. He reached up to touch it, but his hand was slapped away. "Am I going to have to tie you down?"

Spock shook his head, his teeth rattling painfully against the metal in his mouth.

"Then keep going," Jim said, "and you just think about how much you want it to be me doing that to you, how badly you want me to turn you over and fuck you."

Jim slipped an image of this very suggestion to him through his mental shields, which up to this point had been ironclad. Spock moaned and pumped his fist faster. He tried to inform Jim of the truth of the statement, but it came out as "Mmmpf."

Jim pulled the gun, now wet with saliva, out of his mouth and pushed it inside him. At the same time, he let another thought slip and Spock felt the magnitude of Jim's arousal. Jim was so hard it was painful. He moved the gun in and out, jamming it against Spock's prostate. Spock came with a strangled cry, the sticky liquid landing on Jim's pants. He wondered if this would be the end of the game.

"Now look whatcha gone and done," Jim said, still using the accent.

No, the game was not over.

The gun was pulled out of him and was now pointing at his face again. "Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"Not very convincing."

"I'm sorry!"

"That's better. Now lick it off."

Spock moved as though he were about to, but instead grabbed Jim's arms, and had him pinned on his back in one swift motion. Now Spock was the one holding the gun.

He narrowed his eyes. "Strip."


Note: The line of Hy's that inspired me, of course, was "Once I walked into his office and he cocked an antique gun at me and forced me to strip." If only I had used that plot-bunny for good instead of evil...

©2004 by Deirdre Riordan. All rights reserved.

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