number one

Untitled Pike/Number One PWP

Title: See above
Author: igrockspock
Pairing: Pike/Number One
Summary: shameless oral sex porn
Rating: NC-17

The rough, institutional carpet chafes against his bare back, but the view from the floor is good, so Pike decides to stay down. She stands beside him, head tilted back as she rakes her fingers through her thick, dark hair. He traces her body with his eyes, starting from the foot planted on the floor next to his head. The polish on her toenails is chipped, which is quite charmingly human, but not enough to hold his attention in light of how much of the rest of her he can see. His eyes trail up toned calves to firm thighs to the surprisingly voluptuous curves of her hips and ass. Above them are the smooth planes of her belly -- she can do more sit-ups than he can -- and perky, rosy --

Number One flings his uniform onto his bare chest, interrupting his lazy observation. She looks down at him reprovingly. Inwardly, he shrinks from her stern gaze; outwardly, he shows no trace of it.

"You need to get dressed," she says. "We have work to do."

"Shift doesn't start for another half an hour. And since when did you start giving me orders, Commander?"

"Since I rode you hard on your bedroom floor." She says the words as matter-of-factly as she might deliver a mission report. That's what makes it so sexy.

She bends to retrieve her underwear from the floor, and he takes advantage of the distraction to hook one of his legs around hers and pull her to the floor. It's an elementary hand-to-hand combat move, but she wasn't expecting it, so she falls onto her knees.

"What was that?"

She's genuinely pissed now. He can tell from the intensity of her stare. Pike is unrepentant; if she doesn't want him to make her angry, she should make it less fun to piss her off. He doesn't answer her, just seizes the back of her left thigh and drags her leg forward till her knee is planted on the other side of his head. The move destabilizes her, so he wraps his arm around her hips and pulls her forward until her legs are spread over his face. With one hand on each of her hips, he pushes her down until she's close enough to taste. His intentions ought to be clear by now, but he's still afraid she'll bolt, so he spreads his fingers wide and presses them deeper into her hips. Then he licks her slowly and lightly from the bottom of her lips to the top of her clit.

"Oh," she moans, high above him. He imagines her back arching, her breasts tipped up in the air, and he licks her again, pressing his tongue a little deeper this time. She moans again, and now that he's sure she's not going to run away, he releases her hips and slips his hands between her legs to spread her wide open. With the tip of his tongue, he works the slick, sensitive skin just beneath her clit. Her hips rock back and forth over him, forcing his tongue across her clit and finally down to her opening. Fingers still spreading her wide, he presses his tongue inside her as deep as it will go. Her muscles tighten around him, and he can taste himself inside her; she hadn't had time to clean up before he'd pulled her down on top of him. It's too soon for him to get hard again, but his cock throbs anyway. To taste himeslf in her, to have this proof that he had been buried in her just moments before, that he had cracked her reserve and watched her rock back and forth on top of him, is the most erotic thing he can imagine. He slides his tongue back and forth across her opening, teasing her, and his hands stroke the smooth skin of her thighs, skim over her hips, and ride up her sides till he can roll her nipples back and forth between his fingers. He pushes his tongue inside her as quick and hard as he can, and pulls it back out again. With every stroke, he feels her grow wetter and wetter, and now she sinks lower against his face, immersing him in her scent.

"Chris," she gasps. "Touch my clit."

He pulls away from her just long enough to growl, "Touch it yourself. Touch yourself for me."

He pushes her hips back down over his face, and this time he swivels his tongue slowly as he pushes it inside. He can feel her fingers circling her clit now, the tips of her fingernails brushing against his hair with every stroke. It doesn't matter that he can't see her; he can imagine just how she looks, her head thrown back, every muscle tensed, her hand moving faster and faster between her legs.

With her free hand, she seizes his wrist and drags his hand over her until it's back on her breast. He pinches her nipple hard and doesn't let go, and he feels her tighten around his tongue once more. She's close now -- he can tell from the volume of her gasps and cries -- and now he leaves his tongue inside her, working hard at the most sensitive spot. The muscles inside her ripple around his tongue as she comes, and she collapses in a loose heap on the floor beside him.

Fifteen minutes later, he is sitting serenely in his command chair, she at the helm console in front of him. But as he stares at her carefully pressed uniform and her neatly styled hair, all he can see is her on the floor beside him, skin glossy with sweat, chest rising and falling with each of her heavy breaths, muscles still trembling from the force of her orgasm. And when he strolls past her station and sees the faint, sly smile on the edge of her lips, he knows that she is thinking of the exact same thing.