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They’re evil. They’re absolutely evil. It’s rare for Spock to make such steadfast generalizations like that, but in this case, the two men deserve it. Jim started it. Leonard is the bigger offender, but Jim started it.
Jim reached across the conference table and took Spock’s hands in his, giving a firm squeeze. Spock’s stronger and could easily rip them away. But he tells himself it would inevitably cause a scene. The very last thing Spock wants to do at this moment is draw attention to himself. Somehow, it’s become commonplace for Jim to... touch him like this... in public.
There is, however, absolutely nothing commonplace about the way Leonard is touching him.
Leonard is sitting beside Spock, his hand in Spock’s lap, in Spock’s pants, running up and down the length of Spock’s dick. Both of his boyfriends know that he’s particularly susceptible to the attention of hands. Leonard just happens to have the most talented hands on the ship. He’s sure Jim knows what’s going on. Jim’s got that terrible glint in his eye and a permanent smirk, despite Spock’s determined frown.
Mr. Scott is going off about upgrades to their shuttle bay that he, evidently, thinks is a large mistake. Both Leonard and Jim are mostly watching Mr. Scott, nodding in the appropriate places and generally encouraging him to keep going, to keep monopolizing this meeting. Spock tries to watch, but he often ends up shooting furtive glances at Jim or Leonard instead. He’s gripping Jim’s hands very tightly. If they were free, he could swat Leonard away. But he can’t seem to bring himself to wrench them away. If he could open his mouth, he would inform Mr. Scott that this meeting needs to be rescheduled, although Jim could trump him on that. He won’t open his mouth. He’s sure he’d just moan. He won’t do that.
He’s a Vulcan and a Starfleet officer, and he can control himself by sheer force of will, no matter the stimulus. He is not going to have an orgasm in public. He is not going to shudder and groan and beg his lovers for relief right in front of half a dozen senior personnel officers. He is not going to hump the skilled hand sliding up and down his cock and squeezing just right with that little twist at the end that literally makes his knees shake. He is not going to use two fingers on each hand to stroke Jim’s fingers in a veritable Vulcan kiss, and he is most certainly not going to whimper pathetically like—
He just did.
Half the room turns to look at him, though Mr. Scott keeps talking, standing up at the end of the table and gesturing wildly. Spock clears his throat, refusing to acknowledge that his cheeks might be a little green. Slowly, others go back to staring forward. Jim’s smirking too wide.
Jim’s fingertips are stroking his. Oh good lord.
Leonard’s thumb brushes over his slit. Spock has a sharp intake of breath. His hips twitch completely out of his control, and he fights to restrain them. His fingers flex in Jim’s grasp, and he breaks his resolve with a wince, looking at Jim, trying to plead with his eyes to let him go where he himself doesn’t have the strength. Jim simply continues to stroke him soothingly; he knows Jim wants him to give in.
Spock always tries to obey his captain, but there are limits.
Leonard’s thumb is circling the head of his cock. He’s trembling. He’s squeezing Jim tight enough that he might be leaving bruises. Jim starts to squeeze him back. Leonard returns to pumping his cock, harder and faster and relentless. It’s more than Spock can take; he’s breathing twice as fast. He’s looking solely at Jim. Begging Jim to make Leonard stop. Jim refuses to turn.
Spock glances at Leonard, desperately trying to keep his face straight. The corners of Leonard’s lips twitch up; the ghost of a smirk that always looks so sexy on him. Leonard’s hazel eyes are warm and inviting and so, so evil.
Leonard mouths, ‘come for me.’ Spock knows his lover’s mouth well enough to recognize every syllable. He’s fighting so hard to be calm. Reasonable. He can’t even hear Mr. Scott’s voice. There’s a buzzing in his ears that invents Leonard’s gravelly tone, growling a single order.
Spock glances at Jim. Jim mouths, ‘we love you.’
Spock breaks.
He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood and spills into Leonard’s hand, covering the front of his pants and scrunching his eyes shut. His cheeks feel like they’re burning. He’s going to kill them for this. Or ravage them. His throat’s shuddering, wanting to moan; he keeps it tight and his whole body is unimaginably tense, even as the pleasure racks through him. He will not slump down. There’re so many things he will not do. He can’t remember any of them. It feels so good.
He releases a steady breath when he’s done, opening his eyes and trying desperately to ignore several sets of eyes that are faux-discreetly, curiously watching him.
Leonard trails a bit of the mess up Spock’s stomach and wipes the rest off on Spock’s thighs. Spock looks at Jim, ashamed.
Jim mouths, ‘good boy.’
And then he turns to Mr. Scott and interrupts loudly, “Shit, sorry, Scotty—just remembered a transmission I really have to deal with. But I hear you on those new relays—you can remove them.”
Looking a bit stunned, Mr. Scott grumbles, “Oh. Well, thank you, Captain.”
Jim nods and abruptly barks, “Okay, meeting adjourned for now! Everybody out!”
Spock couldn’t move if he wanted to. Then everyone would see just what kind of first officer he is. He remains sitting, staring stoically at Jim, and Leonard doesn’t move either.
As soon as Jim lets go of his hands, Spock is left with the very illogical decision of who to snap at first and whether he should kiss them before or after.