[STAR TREK] (In)subordinance

[picavasnormandy]

Fandom: Star Trek (new movies)
Pairing: Pike/Kirk
Warnings: D/s; violence; mind breaking

COW-T: settimana 3, missione 2 ("È un fatto importante che le apparenze molto spesso ingannano.")

James Kirk has never been a patient man. 

 

He's used to rush into most things – a meaningless fight in the filthiest pub in San Francisco, some nameless alien's bed, Starfleet Academy, death – and any person who's had the questionable pleasure to talk to him at least once wouldn't hesitate to call him a reckless bastard who talks too much (possibly true), thinks too little (definitely wrong), and usually does the latter only after making rash, dangerous (but somehow brutally efficient) decisions based on what he'd call, smirking and fearless, gut feelings.  

 

James Kirk is well aware that this is the kind of reputation that gets you to sit on the captain chair of the most advanced ship of the Terran Empire – the kind of reputation that shows you're willing to take responsibility for all the dirty work with a smile on your face, that you wouldn't hesitate to put your men to death in case of mutiny or even personal offence, and that you're capable of handling the most ruthless, dangerous and treacherous bunch of people they have the guts to call a ship crew. 

 

And yet, the same James Kirk that most people are both grateful and terrified to have as captain – the same James Kirk that's known to bow to no man, obey no rule and fear no danger – is also the man who's been patiently waiting on his knees all morning for the word – any word – that would free him from the restraints he's joyfully welcomed on himself and grant him the release he's been silently, desperately longing for for hours now. 

 

Admiral Pike’s private quarters have been silent for most of that time, the man quietly sitting at his desk, going through documents over documents of boring imperial bureaucracy, while the young captain, ordered not to make a single sound until prompted differently, has been obediently and carefully waiting for a signal. 

 

Jim cannot see right now. His eyes are covered in the fine, gold band that would be normally tied around his waist, a precious reminder of his renowned rank in the Starfleet – the same band that is now, like hundreds of times before this day, being used in the least honourable, yet somehow most pleasurable of ways. And as strange as it might seem, there is pleasure to be found in this slow, excruciating torture, even though Jim has been dying for some kind of physical contact – any kind, really. Sadly, he’s been mostly ignored by far, and he’d be infuriated by the thought, him being the narcissistic, egomaniac bastard that he is, wasn’t he sure that through absolute subordinance he would acquire way more satisfying results than by angrily lashing out against the Admiral – he tried the latter when he was younger and careless enough not to know better, and he has never repeated the same mistake since.  

 

It’s been hours, however, and the initial eagerness to comply is starting to slowly fade into frustrated impatience – one that, Jim knows, if not kept under control could cost him dearly and leave him completely unsatisfied for a long time – way longer that he could stand right now, surely. And yet, there’s too much pride stored in him to accept that a good, humiliating beg would please Pike to the point of them both getting everything they long for – a nice fuck, an ever-cathartic dose of controlled, consensual pain – some given, some received – and a fine show of submission and compliance that would leave the Admiral both delighted and surprised, for a change. Jim is just not sure he’s ready to deliver said change tonight. 

 

"Is there something troubling your mind, James?" 

 

The voice, casual and almost distracted, cuts through the silence like the most unexpected of back stabs, regardless of Jim’s sensitivity, shamefully and painfully heightened by the recent lack of sound or physical contact. 

 

Jim doesn’t flinch and doesn’t move a muscle – he knows all too well he’s not permitted to. His knees, bent and pressed on the floor under his own weight, are starting to hurt, and so are his arms, tied behind his bare back by the wrists. His thighs are spread and there is not a single inch of his body that is not in display right now. As busy as he pretends to be, Jim knows the Admiral is taking his time to appreciate the view from his desk. 

 

Nevertheless, Jim doesn’t feel like giving him too much satisfaction tonight. He licks his lips, slow and deliberate, but doesn't say anything. He knows he’s succeeded in making Pike annoyed when he hears a sigh coming from the other side of the room. 

 

"A year in space and you're the same stubborn bastard who was having his ass kicked in that bar, all those years ago", the Admiral says, and Jim just now realizes how much he’s been craving for the man’s voice. "At least you can be quiet. Did you learn some discipline out there?" 

 

Finally, the familiar sound of the chair being pushed on the floor. Pike stands up – or so Jim imagines behind his blindfold, guided only by the sounds surrounding his exposed body – and then walks around the desk, slowly. Every step sounds like war drums throbbing against his ears and inside his chest, making Jim quiver in anticipation. He tightens his lips, takes a deep breath and tries to relax – he simply refuses to give away his eagerness to be fucked inside out just yet. 

 

As if capable of reading his mind (Jim is starting to think that it might really be the case), Pike’s voice surprises him once again. 

 

"You don't look very happy to be here, you know?”, he asks, and Jim can’t help but frown at the unexpected remark. Luckily, his face is almost entirely covered behind the gold captain band. “Did you fuck many men on my ship, James?” Pike continues. He comes closer. “Or did you let them fuck you?”, a pause, both in his voice and in his steps. “That's not it, right? You can't do that when you're the captain of the Empire's best ship. You never let your guard down, not even inside your bed – especially inside your bed.” He starts walking again, pacing in circle around Jim. “You must always have your fingers around their neck and their hands where you can see them. Doesn't leave much room for your entertainment, uh? Sure, that kind of shit is fun, but isn't it better to be on the other side of the rope? Isn't it good to feel annihilated once in a while? Don't you love giving up control, Captain? It must be refreshing to put your trust in someone for a change, right?" 

 

Jim is not even listening by this point – he's just intoxicated by the sound of a voice he could never grow tired of. He knows all too well his words burn like poison, and he’s not come to stand where he stands by throwing himself carelessly in the arms of danger, yet he's never been able to resist this kind of hazard – on the contrary, he finds himself inevitably drawn to this voice over and over again, each time reminding himself it will be the last, but the next always coming no matter what. 

 

Admiral Pike is right, after all – Jim loves to give up control from time to time, and he would certainly lose every atom of reputation he’s built in years after years of hard work if someone was to see him in such a humiliating position, but the truth is he’ll never be able to give up total control. Be it for an excess of pride or a total lack of trust, there’s always a part of him that eagers to be in charge.   

 

When he smirks in response to Pike’s nice little monologue, he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

 

"Oh? Do I make you laugh, captain?”, the Admiral fakes amazement. “Enlighten me, please: what's so amusing here?" 

 

But once again Jim doesn’t say a word. He opens his thighs more and stretches his back, arching it slightly just to expose his crotch better. Afterall, he doesn’t have to speak to make the Admiral understand. 

 

"I take back what I said about discipline: you are being very insubordinate right now”, Pike says, his voice sternly flat. Jim almost lets out a pained yelp when the tip of one of the man’s boots presses against his genitals, but somehow manages to catch his voice before it escapes his throat. At least now he knows he managed to make him mad.  

 

The boot suddenly pulls back and Pike gets down, knees bent, finally in front of Jim’s face – he can feel it, all of him, just the sheer presence of his body even though he’s not touching him yet. 

 

“I see you are going to make me lose my patience tonight.” 

 

He leaves him no time to smirk this time. Cold fingers wrap around Jim’s cock, unexpected, causing his mouth to fall open taking in as much air as his lungs can sustain. Pike’s hand starts to move all the way to the tip and then back, massaging him slowly. Jim’s thighs tense, the sudden, startling contact already sending shivers through his stomach, while he feels his erection growing hard and pulsing under the man’s touch. It’s still not enough, though. Jim realizes after a few moments, the strokes are sluggish, almost deliberately lazy, and every time they seem to get gradually faster – every time his breath grows deeper and quicker – Pike goes back to the initial, slow pace, leaving Jim endlessly chasing after an orgasm he doesn’t seem so inclined to grant him. 

 

It’s only a matter of minutes before Pike leans in, his dangerous proximity given away by the sudden sensation of thin breath against Jim’s cheek.  

 

"It's about the Vulcan, right?" 

 

It’s nothing more than a whisper against his ear, and yet it’s more than enough to make Jim hold his breath in sudden fear.  

 

He hears a chuckle, then Pike’s hands stop, without leaving his cock just yet. 

 

"Oh, it is then. You found a nice little toy to play with when I'm not there, James?" 

 

His voice is frighteningly calm, but Jim knows there’s danger in the answer he might choose to give. He decides to simply not give any, for now.  

 

"Can't say I'm surprised. I saw how he looked at you, as if he was getting ready to devour you at any moment”, Pike continues. “But a Vulcan? I know what they say about their... sexual habits. You must really like it rough. Is he the only one allowed to stick it up your ass?". Jim hardly holds a painful whimper as soon as the grasp of the man’s fingers suddenly tightens around his cock. Now he knows he’s made him really mad. "Not that cocky anymore, uh? Don't feel like laughing now?" 

 

Still, Jim smirks at his face, fearless and provoking. It’s one of those night when he just can’t help but risk crossing that thin line that separates composed tolerance from irritated annoyance.  

 

Pike clicks his tongue (annoyance, thinks Jim, not without a sense of masochistic anticipation) and lets go of his cock. 

 

"Might as well leave you here, hanging and the fuck alone”, Pike claims while getting back on his feet. “You'd deserve it. Might keep you locked in this room until the mission resumes – when is it? In two weeks? You wouldn't be getting a single orgasm until then." 

 

Definitely annoyed. Jim starts to worry he might have pushed it a little bit too far this time – and yet he hasn’t really done or said anything worse than most other times.   

 

"But you know what?”, the Admiral’s voice interrupts his thoughts again. “I like Spock. Maybe I'll let him visit, let him see what I'm seeing. Bet it wouldn't be much of a surprise for him, right?”, a couple of steps echo through the room, taking the man away from him, and then: “Should I call him now?" 

 

It hits Jim in all kinds of ways, instantly. Unexpected ways. Unwanted, worrisome ways.   

 

"Sir--" 

 

The sound, urgent and nervous, comes out of his mouth without him really having the time to process it. 

 

Is he... scared? 

 

"What was it?", Pike asks. He stops. 

 

"Don't... Sir." 

 

Really, it’s just that the joke has been taken too far and he can’t risk anyone of his men seeing him like this. It’s not about Spock – it' can’t be about Spock.  

 

Can it? 

 

"And why would I want to obey you, kid?" 

 

Jim’s lips part, and the word is right there, stuck in his throat. "Please”, barely a whisper.   

 

There’s an infinite pause, then: "That's new”, Pike chuckles, amused. “So you did learn something. I wonder who I should thank for this." 

 

"Sir." 

 

"Now you're starting to sound like a broken record. If you intend to beg, at least do it properly." 

 

Then, the sound of a single step, coming back towards Jim. That’s it, Jim thinks. How immensely stupid of him to let the thought of the Vulcan scare him for even just a moment. Spock is nothing to him, after all, there’s no reason for him to let emotions take the best of him – and more importantly, now he’s got Pike attention again; he can go back to their little game of chase and catch. He smirks, raising his chin in defiance, making sure his expression is caught by the Admiral – and then he lets his tongue stick out of his lips, licking them slowly, biting them. 

 

Who cares about Spock when he can have this? 

 

"Kid”, Pike starts, after a few moments. “I don't think you understand. I looked forward to this nice little fuck, sure, but it is quite clear you need it way more than I do. I'm not touching you again until you ask me to. And you're not getting out of here until I hear you scream so loud your precious Vulcan will worry someone's butchering your guts like the pig you are." Jim’s grin deepens, he’s starting to feel his erection grow hard again just by the sound of Pike’s voice. Then, he hears him chuckle again. "These are going to be some long two weeks, eh, kid?" 

 

This time, there’s more than just one step. Jim doesn’t even have the time to gloat to himself before he realizes that the steps are taking Pike away, further from him. He stops, hesitant, a hint of doubt growing in his chest, but then he hears the familiar, slow hiss of the automatic doors opening, and the suspicion suddenly becomes reality. 

 

"No—stop!", Jim shouts angrily, the sudden aggression in his voice born from fear and a furious sense of humiliation – just not the pleasing kind, this time. 

 

The silence that follows lasts forever, but it’s finally interrupted by the sound of the doors closing again. For a few moments, Jim holds his breath, not sure if the man is still there with him or if he’s been left alone for good.  

 

"I'm listening." 

 

The words are merely a whisper coming from the opposite side of the room. Pike’s still here. 

 

Jim stretches his lips in a nervous smile. 

 

"Come back”, he says, driven by the same intrinsic reflex that always allows him to fake utter resolution even when lacking any bit of it – the same reflex that made him the captain he is today, fearless and unmatched. “Nobody's going to give you a better fuck anyway." 

 

He can feel Pike’s silent smile, followed by a few, slow steps leading him closer again. Jim feels every inch of his muscle tense in anticipation – he's not sure for what exactly, pain or pleasure, or maybe there’s no real difference between the two when the Admiral’s involved. 

 

Then, Pike speaks again. 

 

"Maybe you're right, James, but see: I'm not that desperate.” He’s so close Jim can feel the presence of his body towering over him – and then a hand grabs his face, long fingers tightened around his chin, forcing him to raise his head and look up – if only he could see anything beyond darkness. “And this is not how you beg for punishment. Not today." Pike’s hold is anything but gentle, but the touch of his fingers alone is enough to make Jim shiver in excitement. And he knows very few reactions triggered by such a sudden burst of adrenaline. 

 

"Fuck you”, he murmurs, and then, with a rapid jerk, he frees his head from Pike’s grasp and closes his teeth around the hand that was holding him. 

 

It all takes but seconds. He feels the man’s skin against his lips and teeth – an electrifying sensation, flesh and bones ready to crush under the pressure of his jaw, a destiny for him to choose in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t want to break, though – not tonight. Tonight, he only wants to start a predictable cycle of pain the he expects to close.  

 

And Pike – Pike is infuriated. His hand jerks away for just a moment, then immediately closes tight around Jim’s neck.  

 

"You bastard", Pike laughs, pushing his back violently against the edge of the bed, and in his voice Jim recognizes the same frenzied adrenaline that drove him just a moment ago. "Did I raise you like this?”, he asks, forcing him to arch his spine and twist his wrists against the restraints in a hopeless, desperate attempt to free his hands to stop the man from choking him to death. “Didn't I teach you manners? I gave you my ship and this is how you thank me. Are you sure you want to risk it on your fucking, pathetic pride?" 

 

Jim gives him a painful smile, yet somehow defiant. 

 

"You can't beg me to fuck you but you're ready to die for this shit? I'm not stopping, James, you should know. There are plenty of young men and women fresh out of Academy eager to take your place." 

 

And Jim knows better than anybody else, Pike is a man who keeps his promises – but then again, James Kirk is a captain that knows no fear.  

 

"You wouldn't", he says in a choked voice, tears already starting to water his eyes. 

 

Pike shakes his head with a smile, not letting go of his neck.  

 

"Oh, but would I? I made you, James, I can destroy you just as easily. And I bet anyone could do a damn better job at worshipping their superiors." 

 

"Please—" 

 

Pike rolls his eyes, visibly out of patience, and Jim can feel cuts opening all around his wrists where he’s struggling against the ropes. When he opens his mouth, desperately chasing after a breath the Admiral won’t let him take, he feels the grasp around his neck shift, although not letting him free just yet. He struggles to keep his eyes open, only to catch a glimpse of the man bending over him, his face so near he can feel his breath on his cheek.  

 

"I can't hear", he simply says, his voice sternly quiet while Jim’s body continues fearfully struggling against asphyxiation. 

 

"Please—”, he begs, finally, his own voice scraping against his pulsing throat, almost inaudible to his own ears. “Please, Sir, I can't—" 

 

Then, just like that, Pike’s fingers spread and he releases his neck, finally letting him breath. 

 

Jim’s head falls forward, his face red and his chest shaken with a violent, painful cough – and yet the Admiral doesn’t let him a moment to catch his breath, grasping his chin again and forcing him to look up. Jim barely feels a hand running through his hair, and a moment later the golden band that was covering his eyes falls from his face, forcing him to squint and look away from the light. 

 

With a rough gesture, Pike yanks his face back in place. 

 

"Look at you. How pathetic”, he looks at him with a disgusted grin. “You don't call him 'Sir', do you?" 

 

Jim, exhausted and out of breath, still manages to stretch his lips in an amused smirk. "You'd like me to?", he asks. 

 

Pike’s expression gets suddenly serious. "Don't push your luck, James”, he says. The hand holding his chin slides further down, coming to rest around his aching neck, causing Jim to tense his muscles in fear. “Unlike you”, he continues, his voice dangerously flat, “I genuinely love being in charge." 

 

When it’s about him, Jim knows better than to push his luck beyond a line that could mean the difference between life and death. He’s seen the Admiral sentence men to death before, and he’s seen those men meet their fate in advance, executed on the spot, left with bruises around their throats so deep that they had to collect shattered bones and blood together with the limp bodies.  

 

That’s why he looks at Pike in the eyes, the smirk completely vanished from his face, when he says: "I know, Sir", making sure it doesn’t sound like a joke.  

 

Pike sighs, then he nods, looking somehow satisfied. He bends down in front of him, the one hand resting on his neck not moving from his position, while the other, slow and unseen, lays on Jim’s cock. "Now, let me ask you one last time”, he says, staring at his eyes. His hand starts to move along his erection, causing it to grow hard once again. “Do you", he tightens his fingers both around his cock and around his neck, "call him 'Sir', or not?" 

 

Jim, both exhausted and aroused, still barely holds a moan escaping from his lips. "The fuck I do", he manages to say, his eyes closed and his voice coarse. 

 

"Am I making you uncomfortable? My apologies." 

 

"Fuck, Pike—", Jim’s head falls back, and once again Pike’s stimulation manages to bring him just on the right spot before stopping altogether, letting his orgasm go before going back to chase the next one, never really reaching any. As fun as this little game might be, it’s really starting to feel like too much, after all these hours spent frustratingly, obediently waiting. He’s starting to lose control of his own body, and when Pike notices his breath getting deeper and faster – when he slows down the pace to leave him hanging for the hundredth time, Jim can’t help but push his waist against his hand, desperate for those fingers to grant him the release he’s been so hopelessly aching for. 

 

“Easy”, Pike pushes him back against the mattress, keeping him in place while he doesn’t stop masturbating him slowly, at his own pace. "It's two weeks or now, kid. Your call." 

 

Jim, collapsed against the side of the bed, every inch of his body hurting, has no strength left in him to fight back. He parts his lips, his breath heavy and loud, collecting what little voice he’s got left to finally give up – let the Admiral know he’s won, he’s his to do with him what he pleases. “Sir...”, he says, nothing more than a whisper. 

 

But suddenly, before he can attempt a second word, a familiar, low ringing sound breaks the silence.  

 

The notice of an external communication incoming. 

 

“Computer, respond”, Pike says promptly. He gives Jim a quick glance and a smirk, immediately stopping his hands without letting go of his cock – Jim struggles, or at least he tries uselessly when strong, steady hands keep him in place without effort. "Admiral Pike here." 

 

The voice from the communicator sounds distant like a bad dream.  

 

"Admiral, the meeting is starting soon. The other attendants are already gathering." 

 

"Copy that, I'll be on my way”, Pike responds in his stern, professional voice. He stops for a second, then looks down at Jim. “Oh, I received word from Captain Kirk that he won't be able to attend, I've already taken responsibility”, a satisfied smile. “Pike out." 

 

When the Admiral gets up, letting go of both his cock and his throat, Jim pushes himself up from the bed, an urgent, worried look on his face that only deepens when Pike starts to collect his jacket from the seat at his desk. 

 

"What are you doing?", Jim asks, the same anger covered in sheer humiliation he experienced but minutes ago already building inside his stomach.  

 

"Saving you the pain of a boring meeting attended by old, disgusting men", Pike responds, quietly. 

 

"Fuck, I don't mean that." 

 

The man stops just to stare at his eyes, dead serious. 

 

"And what do you mean, James?" 

 

Jim purses his lips. "You're not going there", he says, angrily – and he means it. 

 

"That's my job." 

 

"And mine, but it's clear you don't care about that—just fucking untie my hands, will you?" 

 

Pike lets a smile cross his face. "It's a bit late now, don't you think?" 

 

"God—just, please." 

 

"That's better." 

 

Jim looks at the jacket fall from the man’s arms and drop silently on the floor. He looks up, staring defiantly at his eyes while he gets closer step by step – but all the resolution he managed to collect simply drifts away when Pike gets down, poses his fingers on his cock and starts touching him again, and again, and again, a never-ending cycle of deep, desperate arousal fallen to frustration – just enough to make him moan and whimper and start feeling the building of an orgasm, but never sufficient to really take him over the edge.  

 

Jim struggles, desperate, pushing his body and then reaching for Pike’s lips – not a bite, this time, just a hopeless kiss, one the man has no intention of giving him. He stops Jim by the shoulders and holds him steady. "Are we back to the beginning? We've got some serious communication issues here." 

 

"Sir—" 

 

Pike leaves him no time to elaborate. Two fingers press against his lips, forcefully finding their way inside his mouth. When Jim feels them push on his tongue, he’s got no time to argue – he starts licking and sucking on the Admiral’s hand, relishing the taste of his skin, the harsh feeling of his nails scraping against the back of his throat.  

 

It lasts only a few moments before the fingers slide away from his mouth – they don’t go far, though. They start leaving wet trails along his throat, tracing the bruises he left earlier, and then further down on his chest. Jim’s eyes fall open when the fingers start massaging his hard, aching nipples, and he lets out a moaning sigh when Pike’s other hand travels down, down, and further down barely touching his genitals. Then, the hand slips between his legs, forcing them to open even wider. Jim head falls back against the mattress while he stretches his muscles to open up for the Admiral even more than his body can take right now. Pike pushes his whole body against him with an amused grin, his wet fingers barely brushing against his entrance, and yet never really touching him. 

 

"God, please, please—", Jim starts feeling pushing against his eyelids.  

 

Pike gets shamefully closer. "I'm here", he whispers in his ear – and that’s about how much Jim can take tonight before falling utterly destroyed.  

 

"I want to be fucked, Sir, I want to be fucked by you, only you, please—" 

 

Pike smiles staring at the horny body shaking under him – a body he managed once again to claim his own, to break both in the flash and in mind. "That was unnecessary, kid”, he takes just a moment to admire Jim’s tense muscles, the sweat trailing down his shoulders and chest, his hard nipples and his cheeks, bright red and overflowing with excitement, and he can’t help but think he’s made such a perfect job at taming the animal out of him tonight. “But good job on the flattery", he says, pushing one first finger inside of him.  

 

Jim’s whole body shakes while he lets out a deep, loud moan, arching his back against the mattress and spreading his legs for more. “You really are pathetic, aren’t you?”, Pike mocks him, and after a moment a second finger pushes inside, making Jim quiver even more. “I should take you before the Council like this, then everyone will see the kind of man you are”, Jim cries out, his muscles tensing around Pike’s hand when he finally pushes the third finger inside. “You’re nothing but an animal desperate to get his ass filled with someone’s cock”, a thrust, deeper than the others, and a loud moan that echoes through the romm. “You are mine, James. I created you. You remember, right?” 

 

Jim can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain anymore. Pike’s fingers are almost completely dry, deep inside his body, but his words are making him mad, desperate to belong to him completely, heart and soul, flesh and bones – he can’t escape after all, he doesn’t want to, and he never will. 

 

“I remember”, he says, his voice dry, almost lost in his quick breaths. “Please--” 

 

“Good.” 

 

And then, without warning, the fingers slip away from his body, causing Jim to yelp in both pain and bitter surprise. The same hand then grabs him by the shoulders, the other running quickly through his hair before tightening around them, harshly and painfully, forcing him to get up on his feet. 

 

Jim lets out a moan, his legs and back hurting from the prolonged stretching, but Pike lets him no time to complain. He pushes him forward, and for a moment Jim has no idea where’s he’s leading, and nor he cares, really. He stumbles once, twice, but there are always strong arms keeping him up, leading the way. Just a few moments later he feels a hand laying on his stomach and another one pushing from behind his head. “Bend over, kid”, Pike orders, and Jim obeys without hesitation.  

 

The surface of the desk, cold and smooth, welcomes his stretched body granting some relief to his aching muscles. He spreads his legs in anticipation, feeling his own erection pulsing hard against the table, desperate for release – and then Pike’s cock is brushing against his entrance, a couple of wet fingers massaging his muscles again, one last time. 

 

The first push is sudden and anything but gentle, and Jim’s loud and painful cry fills the entire room. 

 

Pike moans, delighted, sliding a hand down his back, gently tracing his spine down to the bottom – then pushing again, hard.  

 

Every thrust sends shivers of pain through Jim’s already aching body. Tears start collecting in his eyes at every push that force his throbbing erection against the table, and his wrists begin to struggle once again against the ropes, desperate to find freedom just so he can touch himself and let his come ruin Pike’s precious desk. 

 

“Tell me what you want, James”, the man’s voice whispers against his ear. 

 

“God, Chris—Sir, let me come, please, please”, he shivers, tries to push against Pike’s cock, taking it deeper, faster. 

 

“And what if don’t want to touch your filthy cock?”, he teases. 

 

Jim parts his lips, he moans, shakes his head – he’s driving him mad. “Please, I beg you--” 

 

“Oh”, a delighted sound, right against his ears. “You do? Then I might think about it, kid.” 

 

Another thrust, deeper and harder than the others. Jim can feel Pike’s breath over him becoming more and more unsteady by the seconds, getting faster and deeper, interrupted by low moans – he knows he’s getting close, he’s just scared he might come before he does and then leave him without release. 

 

It seems, however, that after all this might be his lucky night. 

 

A hand slips under his body, quickly caressing his stomach and then sliding down – and Jim realizes almost immediately, it’s not the rough surface of Pike’s scarred hands – it’s smoother and colder, almost like leather. 

 

He holds his breath when gloved fingers close around his erection. 

 

“I expect extreme gratitude after this”, says the voice in his ear, and then the hand starts moving. Jim’s moans grow louder and louder, his erection pulsing under every stroke just as his whole body shakes at each thrust sinking deeper inside of him. He comes with an heavy cry, letting himself be consumed by a pleasure that’s devoured by the most delightful of agonies – and Pike fills him but moments after, spending himself completely inside of him. 

 

In the silence that follows, their spent breaths seem to chase each other in unison. Jim collapses on the desk, and he doesn’t even flinch when Pike’s cock slips out of his body, leaving trails of semen to fall down along his shivering thighs. Jim opens his eyes in time so see Pike quietly cleaning his spoiled gloves with a handkerchief, his jacket already placed on his shoulders. 

 

"Chris”, he whispers, devoid of all energy. “You can untie me now." 

 

Pike gives him a tiny smile. 

 

"Just wait here like the good boy you proved to be”, he says, a hand gently caressing Jim’s hair before slipping away. 

 

"Chris!", he shouts, tired and angry. 

 

Right on the door, Pike stops and turns. 

 

"Oh, kid”, he says, delighted. “It's Admiral Pike now and for the next two weeks. You’d better get used to it." 

 

The door closes behind him, leaving him in complete silence – alone again.  

 

And Jim knows – he knows better than anyone in the universe, that Admiral Christopher Pike is a man that keeps his promises.