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Spock leaned forward and reached for his toes from his seated position on the gym mat. He observed from his peripherals as a particularly talkative group walked together to the locker room attached to the gym. He exhaled with satisfaction as their chatter quieted to silence when the door shut behind them, the hushed bumping of simple music and some labored breathing and grunts from other gym-goers the only remaining sound. Without the drone of constant conversation from the group, it was significantly easier to clear his mind. He resumed his stretches, entering an almost meditative state.
Once he’d properly stretched out, he faced his opponent: a heavy punching bag. He struck suddenly with a powerful kick, rocking the whole bag and making a loud thud. He followed up with a flurry of fast blows, circling the bag to take advantage of its momentum in one direction to hit with more force. His focus was zeroed in on the bag, on his positioning, and how best to attack from each angle.
He would, of course, tell anyone who asked that he, as a Vulcan, was a pacifist. He would say that this training was unnecessary due to his ability to nerve pinch most opponents, or to stun or simply overpower most others. He would not have chosen such an exercise by his own choice. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been his choice.
After an admittedly unimpressive performance on his last away mission, Spock had been incapacitated in a fight with a member of the native species. His injuries were not life-threatening, but the damage was extensive enough that he’d been taken off duty for nearly three weeks– much longer than Spock believed necessary, but alas. He'd spent that time often visiting the ship's public sauna– originally a suggestion by Doctor McCoy, but later Spock's choice for an enjoyable and refreshing pastime. Additionally, Jim had ordered him to refresh his memory on combat techniques before he would be allowed on another away mission.
He’d given Spock the choice between a course taught by senior security officers or this, beating an inanimate, barely moving bag. Obviously, not the most informative or realistic training method, but it saved him the hassle of dealing with rambunctious cadets and ensigns looking to crawl all over him in the name of “training.”
“Commander,” a gruff voice called him. Spock looked toward the sound and watched Lieutenant Hendorff jogging toward him, shirtless and wearing the tight, red leggings Starfleet had somehow decided were ideal for exercise. Spock swallowed thickly as he watched the non-subtle bounce in the lieutenant’s leggings. “If you’re not busy, do you want to spar? I’ve been looking for a challenge.”
Spock opened his mouth to reject Hendorff’s proposal, but stopped to consider it. Sparring would be a more practical use of his time, and he had no doubt that it would count toward his required practice. His gaze was drawn to the door as a pair of sweaty Andorians headed into the locker room. As the door shut behind them he realized that they had been the last two in the gym besides himself and Lieutenant Hendorff.
“Sparring with another person would be a more productive exercise than attacking a punching bag,” Spock conceded, untying the sash holding together the robe-like top that he’d paired with his own red leggings. He shrugged off the top and stood rigidly before Hendorff, who looked at his bare skin with a hungry expression.
The two walked to the center of the mat, giving themselves an especially large space since they were the only ones left in the gym. They assumed their starting positions, nodded to affirm their readiness, and immediately charged for each other. Spock, who was used to sparring with Jim exclusively, realized quickly that he had underestimated his opponent. Unlike Jim, who almost always started by trying to stay out of Spock’s range– knowing Spock could pick him up and drop him on the ground with ease– Hendorff was solid. The two collided with enough force to briefly stun Spock, before he quickly dodged a grab and created some distance between them.
Hendorff stomped after him with the confidence Spock would usually have had against Jim; Hendorff knowing that against him, Spock did not have his usual advantage of weight. Spock jumped back when Hendorff tried to grab him again, and took advantage of the slight stumble he noticed from the man, moving to the outside of his arm while holding his wrist. He was about to grab the man’s shoulder but was instead surprised to find the wind knocked out of him as Hendorff lowered himself and rammed his shoulder into Spock’s stomach. Spock’s grip on his wrist loosened for a moment and it was immediately snatched away from him.
Spock just narrowly managed to dodge another grab, still trying to catch his breath. Hendorff dove after him once more, and Spock barely rolled out of the way in time. He regained his footing and watched his opponent as he did the same a few moments behind him, Hendorff still bent over facing away from him. A chance like this would not come again, and Spock knew it would likely be his best opportunity to take Hendorff down without wasting time tiring him out.
He nearly moved to act on his advantage, but was distracted by the fascinating shape between the man’s spread legs. Spock’s face heated as he wasted his chance staring at Hendorff’s testicles instead of making a move. Moments later he was up, Spock’s opportunity gone, and once again the lieutenant closed in on the Vulcan. He feinted a grab one way, but struck out with a kick in Spock’s path as he fell for the move and tried to dodge. Spock grunted as the kick landed, but didn’t allow Hendorff the upper hand. He grabbed the man’s ankle and lifted it, tipping him off-balance. Unfortunately, Starfleet-approved clothing being the quality that it was, the move had the unintended side effect of splitting the man’s pants along the seam.
Spock’s eyes widened as Hendorff’s genitals eagerly tumbled out of the gash in his tight pants. Hendorff, of course, was not without his own share of surprise at his new predicament, and wrenched his leg out of Spock’s hold before he fell back on his ass. Spock was about to propose a tie when Hendorff pounced from the floor, tackling the unguarded Vulcan to the ground. Their attention returned to the match, grappling attentively as though Hendorff’s penis and testicles were not dangling in the open air of the gym. After minutes of struggling, the two wound up oriented in opposite directions, trying to restrain each other’s heads with their legs. Hendorff managed to swing a leg over Spock and straddle his neck, dropping his weight down in such a way that his balls rested on Spock’s chin.
Spock gasped, his competitive side still driving him to attempt to dislodge the man. He wrapped his thighs around Hendorff’s neck and squeezed them tightly together, his ankles crossed behind the man’s head. He bit his lip and held back a soft moan as the move ground Hendorff’s lips against his clothed sheath, his hot, panting breath adding more dampness to the already moistening fabric.
Hendorff shifted back, trying to escape Spock’s clutching thighs. The move dragged his balls over Spock’s lips, landing them pressed against the Vulcan’s nose. Spock whimpered, the smell of Hendorff’s sweat, already strong but much more potent here, filling his nostrils. Hendorff gripped at Spock’s thighs, managing to grab at his ass in the process. He tried to pry Spock’s thighs apart, laying more weight on his haunches as he sat upright. Spock panted as the man fully sat on his face, lifting Spock’s lower body with him as he tried to escape the Vulcan’s strong legs.
His fingers were digging into the meat between Spock’s ass and thighs, pulling the weak fabric taut. Spock grunted helplessly as he heard threads ripping, the seam of his own leggings splitting as Hendorff’s had. Spock absently gained a new sympathetic understanding toward his captain’s unfortunate tendency to rip his own clothing with seemingly ridiculous ease. Spock’s thighs shivered at the direct touch of Hendorff’s lips grinding against his sheath.
“Dm ymm yllhd?” Hendorff growled, his voice muffled in Spock’s skin. The vibrations of his voice against Spock’s sheath made him tighten his grip around Hendorff’s head on reflex.
“Do you yield?” Hendorff tried again, gritting it out as he pulled back slightly. He dug his fingernails into Spock’s thighs, still attempting to pry open his legs.
“I… do not,” Spock gasped, grinding his sheath on the man’s panting mouth. He bit his lip at the scratch of Hendorff’s goatee against his sensitive sheath.
Hendorff growled something too muffled to understand and shifted, using his feet to frame Spock’s head, lifting his hips once he had him restrained. The movement allowed him to prod Spock’s lips with the head of his hardening cock. At the touch, Spock opened for him easily, Hendorff sliding his cock into his mouth and pushing firmly against the resistance at the back of his throat. He pulled back for a hard thrust, and then repeated the motion until he was able to spear that tightness in Spock’s throat. Spock gagged, swallowing around the intrusion with some effort. Hendorff’s balls lay just below Spock’s nose again, the scent thick and distracting.
Spock’s thighs relaxed without him realizing and Hendorff immediately pounced on the opportunity. He yanked them apart and tucked the legs under his armpits before Spock could fight back. Spock squirmed desperately, now helplessly spread open and with no power over Hendorff anymore. Hendorff made a sound Spock could only describe as a snarl and dove in to attack Spock’s defenseless sheath with lips and tongue. Spock choked on Hendorff’s cock, writhing in his hold.
“Do you yield?” Hendorff repeated, dragging his coarse facial hair through the soft skin of Spock’s sheath. Spock blubbered unintelligibly around the cock filling his mouth. “Your arms are free, tap out.”
Spock kept his arms where they were, his hands firmly attached to Hendorff’s thighs. Hendorff lifted his hips before dropping his weight again so his cock shoved deep into Spock’s waiting throat. He bounced a few times, then pulled out and instead pressed his balls onto Spock’s lips. The Vulcan eagerly sucked a testicle into his mouth, using his tongue to try to guide the other inside as well. His lips stretched around what he could fit, his tongue laving at the sweaty sack.
Hendorff speared Spock’s sheath with his tongue, using his fingers to spread him open further. Spock’s moan was garbled around his mouthful as Hendorff slid two fingers into his sheath, quickly working up a vigorous rhythm with them. He squirmed in Hendorff’s hold, a whine in the back of his throat rising in pitch as Hendorff’s fingers picked up speed.
“Had enough?” Hendorff growled. He was fingerfucking Spock fast enough that the squelching was louder than the music in the background. Spock’s eyes rolled back, his core tightening as he was driven closer and closer to the edge. Hendorff lifted his hips again, pulling his balls out of Spock’s mouth– with some effort, as Spock’s lips held on with tight suction. “Well?”
“I. Do. Not,” Spock panted, whining loudly as Hendorff shoved another finger in along with the two already jackhammering into him. Hendorff stuffed his cock into Spock’s open mouth and began fucking his face just as fast as his sheath.
Spock heard the loud pattering of liquid on the mat before he realized what was happening, his face burning with embarrassment as fluid gushed out of his sheath in time with Hendorff’s fingers. He squirmed harder, a choking sob barely escaping around the cock filling his mouth.
“How about now?” Hendorff asked, stuffing a fourth finger inside before Spock could answer. “I’m about to put my whole fist in your pussy and you still want more? You just squirted all over both of us but you won’t fucking admit defeat?”
Spock gripped Hendorff’s hips hard enough to bruise and kept his hands stubbornly in place. Hendorff cursed and yanked his fingers out all at once, wrenching a whimper out of Spock.
Suddenly the weight was lifted, and Spock felt Hendorff’s arms wrap around his torso and his folded legs. Hendorff’s cock slid out of his mouth as he flipped the Vulcan out from under him, dropping him facedown on the mat. Spock went limply, his only resistance a faint whine as he noticed the puddle he was lying in.
Hendorff knocked his knees apart, pushing Spock’s hips down so he was splayed flat on the mat, his legs spread open wide. He dragged his leaking cockhead through the lips of Spock’s sheath.
“Last chance,” Hendorff warned. “I’m not gonna last long so if you don’t want me to come inside your pussy you’d better tap out.”
“I will not… yield to empty threats,” Spock sassed, voice cracking in the middle, and subtly arched his back to better show off his sheath. Spock cried out when the opening was invaded by the thick cock, bottoming out with a wet squelch in one thrust.
Hendorff bit down hard on the meat of Spock’s shoulder, immediately fucking him at a desperate pace. Spock sobbed in time with his fast thrusting, biting his lip to keep somewhat quiet as he felt himself approaching the same peak as before. Sure enough, Spock’s sheath pulsed helplessly as another rush of fluid was forced out of him, soaking both of their pants and expanding the puddle on the mat. He felt the hot flood of Hendorff’s ejaculate inside him moments later. The man collapsed on top of Spock, tiredly licking the marks his teeth left on Spock’s shoulder.
Spock whimpered as Hendorff’s softening cock slipped out of his oversensitive sheath. Spock was about to say something, but instead nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a door whooshing open. Their heads both whipped around to face the sound of someone leaving the locker room. The person paused to look at them, a lecherous grin spreading over their face.
“Who’s winning?” they called, jeering.
Hendorff reached under Spock to stuff two fingers into his oversensitive sheath, making sure to finger him as loudly as possible. Spock gasped sharply and squirmed helplessly, pinned under the larger man. His thighs trembled from overstimulation.
“I- Con- ah- I concede!” Spock yelped. Hendorff leisurely pulled his fingers out after a few more good thrusts.
“I won,” Hendorff proclaimed, slapping his still-wet hand over Spock’s mouth to cut off any argument. The person laughed and waved him off, leaving the gym without any further questions.
As soon as the other person left, the two of them rushed for the locker room, fortunately managing to sneak around a corner and get out of their ripped, soaked leggings before anyone else saw. They tossed their leggings into the recycler and hurried into the shower.