2005 Golden Orgasm Award: Third Place Best
Other Fest Story
Intermezzo – Kiss
Acidqueen <a.q
at gmx.de>
Series: TOS
Rating: NC-17; warning: I tried to write poetically.
Codes: K/Mc
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain. No infringement is
intended, and no money is being made.
Archive: KMF, My own website at http://www.syredronning.de , ASCEM, all others ask, please.
Author's Note: Part of my K/Mc series. See wave 1 and 2
Acknowledgement: Many thanks to K'Chaps for the beta! All remaining errors are
mine.
Summary: See title.
***
Normally, they didn't kiss a lot. There wasn't a specific reason for it, and it
never seemed important enough to muse or even talk about it; but it was just
that they both liked to kiss women and rather did something else when they were
together. But this night, it was different. Maybe because their arousal built
over the long evening, spent with some buddies and a bottle of whiskey. They
sat side by side, but after a while, they had to changed places because it felt
too good and stimulating. It didn't prevent the eye contact, the unvoiced
question - "your place or mine?"- the half-serious grins when the
round began telling dirty jokes. Finally they left, not drunk but with just the
right level of alcohol to feel elated and relaxed, carefree and very much alive.
And so they kissed tonight like they rarely kissed, mouths open, their tongues
sparring, tasting each other to the fullest. Body pressed on body and together
pressed back on the wall next to the closed door; lips pressed on lips as if
wanting to drink each other.
A surgeon's hands delved under a shirt, fingertips danced over naked skin,
tracing the ribs and muscles. Finally finding nipples, raking over them,
pulling them softly. Teasing and arousing them until they turned hard, erect
and hungry for more. Another pair of hands found a similar goal, doing
likewise. Mirrored movements, mirrored lust. In two bodies, burning flows of
energy pooling in groins, hard bulges pressing against each other.
But lips barely parted from lips, tongues still met, got caught and escaped;
tried to hunt each other in the depths and saw daylight when they struggled to
lick over lips. Moans mixed, moans traveled back and forth with every hard
breath, every intake of air. Teeth etched over softness, leaving traces.
Fingers retracted, leaving stimulated, blood-filled nipples to the mercy of
rough fabric. Wandered down and opened zippers, shoved all wrappings away
without regard for material loss. Two pair of hands split up to divide and
conquer, circling around erections and gripping muscular butts, trying to leave
imprints.
But mouths still kissed, abraded by now, swollen; wetness above upper lips,
sweat to be licked away, tasty saltiness. Tongues once again attempted
copulation like tired dancers, unwilling to stop halfway through, craving a
last pas de deux.
Two bodies moved to the bed in unsteady circles and parted, rearranging; tongue
met erection, mouth closed over hardness, watery wetness exchanged for slicker
grounds. Lips worked over rough surfaces, moans damped by fullness; hips rocked
in subdued rhythm, finally unable to hold back. Mouths drank from the source,
swallowing each other's essence. Bodies slacked and rearranged again, chest to
chest and mouth to mouth, allowing swollen lips to hug each other once more, sweet
hurt in the taste, before their owners fell asleep.
Tomorrow, maybe they would kiss again.
***