browngirl | Duende (Star Trek XI, threesome, NC-17)

A week ago I posted a ficlet offer; I've been working on the prompts since. (I seem to write more slowly than I used to.) Meanwhile, here's a bonbon that's overdue for posting.

Title: Duende
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Number One/Jim Kirk/Chris Pike
Summary: Jim gets down on his knees and asks nicely. One responds. Pike is unsurprised.
Content Advisory: [Mis]use of a Captain's Chair.
Acknowledgements: Written for

circ_bamboo's Awesomely Untranslatable commentficathon.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.
Title: Duende is a Spanish word meaning "the mysterious power that a work of art has to deeply move a person."

When this boy captain, running his strong fingers along the swooping curve of her chair, tilts his golden head and asks, "So, Captain, d'you ever have sex in this sexy chair?" One doesn't turn her head as she shifts her gaze, regarding him from the left corners of her eyes. Kirk grins, looking at her from the right corners of his, cheek creasing beneath his right eye as they both sparkle.

One lifts her eyebrow a millimeter higher.

Kirk's grin widens, but so do his bright eyes, before he exhales a dry laugh as he drops his chin into a headshake. "That is," he murmurs towards his hand still draped over the top of her chair, "exactly the answer Pike gave that question." He looks up at her through his lashes, radiating illusory innocence. "With the eyes. And the eyebrow," as a crease appears between his. "And the... thingness."

"Thingness," One echoes, but Kirk just smiles wider as if her scorn were praise. She moves mostly to distract from her answering smile, sitting in her chair; it feels subtly different somehow despite its familiarity, the fine cloth cradling her body as if with a new, sensual promise.

The power of suggestion, she thinks, sitting laser straight, listening to Kirk's footfalls as he walks around the side to face her. Even so braced, when he steps before her, hands folded behind him, she sees in the rosy flush across his cheekbones not the fresh young captain touring her ship but Chris's foundling cadet, a little bruised around the edges, irreverent one moment and disarmingly earnest the next. "Thingness," he repeats as if it were a real word, "the way you both look sitting there, in that visible symbol of your control, with all that lofty authority..." He kneels before her, arms now at his sides, and her lips part to tell him to get up but no words emerge. "You haven't answered my question, Captain One," he concludes, but with an almost pleading tone.

One has read about queens in Earth's history and met them in various planetary systems. Until this moment, looking down from her chair at Kirk's straightforward offer before her, at his hair gleaming under the bright Bridge lights, she had never considered how queendom might feel. "I have not," she tells him, inevitably adding, "yet."

His cheek curves up again, his hands open at his sides to say he won't reach forward until she commands him. "Would you like to?"

* * *** * *

Chris finds them not too long later, finds One staring unseeing at her blank viewscreen, her fingers buried in Kirk's thick short hair, his ears hot against her bare thighs. Her spine wants to melt into the warm cushioned chair, vibrating rigidly with tension as Kirk presses his splayed hands into her hips and licks her; the things he does with his tongue --- she can try to quantify them or she can feel them, and she completely, profoundly gives herself over to feeling them.

She hears the footfall onto her Bridge and knows only Chris has the keycode to that lock, she feels the shift in the air, but she doesn't see him until Kirk shudders under Chris's hand on his nape, until she blinks up into his gentle smirk and crinkle-cornered eyes. "Getting in trouble, I see," he teases as he bends to her; his arm tenses with another squeeze, and Kirk shudders again and his moan tingles into her, tremors propagating through her as he licks even harder.

One hadn't known he could. She gasps against Chris's mouth, feeling it stretch in a smile as he murmurs, "He's good, isn't he?" His other hand cups her head and her neck melts into his support. "Go on," he whispers and kisses her. Tingling under Chris's mouth, throbbing under Kirk's, fire suffusing every cell of her body, One comes.