Title: Too Lazy To Move
Fandom: ST XI
Characters: Spock, Kirk
Warnings: Language and implications
Notes: Another one for the crackmeme: Post-coital snuggling. It’s short, but I think it gets the point across. Also, I reflexively started this in Vulcan, before I realised it needed to be in English.
From this prompt:
Any pairing at all! I just wanna see some completely blissed out cuddling!!
Spock knows he’s covered in semen and Jim’s sweat, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s been trying to get used to the feel of sweat against his fingertips, anyway, and lying here with Jim collapsed over him, he has the freedom to stroke any hot and sweaty part of his lover that he desires. Of course, at this point, the word desire isn’t exactly applicable, any more. There’s just the haze, and all of his senses are a little farther away than they should be.
He can feel Jim gnawing lazily at his collarbone, between vacant, satisfied sounds. A few times, the captain tries to speak, gets a word out, and just gives up. Spock rubs his chin against the top of Jim’s head, and lets his hands ghost over Jim’s sweaty, cooling body. He knows there’s something he wants to say, but his mind won’t make it happen in Standard, and it’s a rather offensive sentiment to be bandying about in Vulcan. It probably doesn’t matter. He’s pretty sure Jim knows.
Grabbing Spock’s wrist, Jim rolls over, off of him, pulling Spock along, to wrap around his back. Spock moves, but with protest.
"Jim, the sheets…" He feels Jim pressing back against him, ass twitching in satisfaction against the wet spot on Spock’s belly.
"Whatever," is the muttered response, and Spock finds he can tolerate that, for now.
His arm is under Jim’s, fingers interlaced, just draped, haphazardly, across Jim’s chest. He’s not paying attention until Jim slips two fingers into his mouth, and sucks, with a satisfied hum. Spock is, in fact, so tired and vacant, that it just feels nice. He cricks a finger and pets Jim’s tongue, and he can feel Jim’s lips pull up into an amused smirk, around his fingers.
This is how it should be, Spock thinks, finally relaxing into the bed. They have nowhere to be for the next eighteen hours, and Spock fully intends to spend an entire, lazy, six of those sleeping, right here.