obstinatrix | Ficlet: A Scene In Five

Title: A Scene In Five
Pairing: Shatnoy
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Come on, guys. We know I'm not claiming this happened. I just wish it had.
Notes: For this prompt at the kinkmeme. Why did Bill have such an Extremely Visible Erection on the set of Obsession, anyway? (See, um, illustration at the end of the story.)

Bill wasn't quite sure how exactly it had gotten started - Leonard's mouth slick-sliding hot over his; Leonard's long-fingered hands creeping under his shirt - but he sure as hell knew it had to stop. Now.

"Leonard," he tried, breathlessly, as his fingers found purchase in the blue velour of Spock's uniform tunic. "Len, I've got to be back on the bridge in - oh, shit - "

Leonard's mouth was on his throat, now, hot tongue lapping like a cat's, and ohGod, oh God, but stopping this would be harder than it sounded, seven minutes to scene or not. Bill tipped his head back, feeling his blood thundering to pool between his legs, a tingle building deep in his belly. "Leonard," he repeated, in a tone intended to be stern but which emerged as something closer to a whimper, needy and hitched at the back of his throat. "Come on, Len." Bill licked a deep kiss into Leonard's mouth; pulled free reluctantly and gripped Leonard's shoulders. "Len - mmmmm - no no no, Len, you've got to stop this; I've got to be on set in five; you've got to - shit - you have to stop."

It was only when he felt the chill of Leonard's sudden absence that he realised that he hadn't, actually, expected to be obeyed. There were paths of wetness drying on his throat, cooling unpleasantly. His trousers strained at the crotch. And Leonard just stood there, half-smirk of amusement quirking his mouth, and said easily, "Okay. We'll finish this later, then."

Bill swallowed. His skin was raw and prickling where Leonard had touched it, and his jaw ached in that peculiar, deep-rooted way that only endless, bottomless kissing can satiate. God, he wanted Leonard; wanted to bite his mouth and bruise his throat and suck him deep. He wanted to swallow him whole. And Leonard's Starfleet-issue trousers, skin-tight as they were, left Bill in absolutely no doubt at all that Leonard wanted him. He chanced a quick glance over in the direction of the sound men. They were still carting boxes in and out, and Bill wondered optimistically whether they were experiencing any kind of delay.

Leonard caught the direction of his gaze, and smiled, shaking his head ruefully. "Nah, Bill, you know Sound. They said seven minutes, they meant seven minutes." He held Bill's eyes. "I said I'll see you later, okay? After this scene. You don't have another one till after lunch." His mouth twitched. "I'll be thinking about you."

And Leonard's hand slid, oh-so-easily, oh-so-casually, down the flat plane of his own stomach, over his hipbone, coming to rest in the crease of his inner thigh. Bill's pulse leaped, swelled in his veins at the press of those long white fingers against the hardness in Leonard's trousers; the way he tilted his head back ever so slightly, soft mouth open on a breath as he palmed himself.

"Fuck."

He hadn't meant to say it, but the look on Leonard's face, the way his eyes flashed darkly, told him that the word had escaped him, and, well, if he'd begun, he might as well go on. "Fuck, Len, you can't do that to me." Bill's fingers were twitching, now; burning with the need just to reach across the space between them and pull Leonard flush against his body; kiss him and kiss him and then go down on his knees and kiss him there, as well, until he came. He took a half-step towards him, unable to stop himself. But Leonard only smiled a little more, and backed away, shaking his head.

"Nuh-uh, Bill. You've got, what - three minutes, now? Get on set. I told you already, I'll be right here."

And Leonard unzipped his trousers, and slipped a hand inside; and the glint of light on his teeth as he bit down hard on his lower lip almost did for Bill right there and then.

"You," he said, when he'd recovered the power of speech, "are a god-damned tease."

"Am I?" Bill could tell he was going for glib, but the husky sex-coarseness to Leonard's voice kind of deadened the effect. Or, rather, it turned it into something else entirely. The head of his cock glistened with pre-come. Bill wanted to descend immediately and lick it off. Leonard, apparently, had other plans; as did the director.

"BILL? Bill! Where the hell are you? BILL!"

"Shit - " Bill tore his eyes away from Leonard's deft fingers, the elegant flick of his thumb as he traced slow circles over the slickness of himself. Leonard looked back at him, levelly, lazily, smiling at him heavy-lidded and slow.

"After the scene, baby," he repeated. He bucked up into his hand, once, abruptly, and it was all Bill could do not to press him back by the hips and swallow him down, director or not. But then there it was again -

" - BILL!"

- and the look on Leonard's face brooked no arguments. Later.

He had an erection the size of downtown Manhattan. If he managed to get away without anyone noticing it, it would be a miracle. He was going to have to stand there on the bridge set and be Kirk, for God's sake; and say lines and stand next to Nichelle, and God, if De noticed, his world was going to crumble around his feet. And it was all Leonard's fault. Again.

"I," Bill hissed pointedly, "am going to kill you, Nimoy." He paused to breathe. "I swear to God, you'll be lucky if you get away without a spanking for this. I told you I had a scene and you had to go and get me all - worked up - "

"Maybe I wanted you worked up," Leonard said. One hand still worked deftly. Bill tried very hard not to look at it. "Ever think of that?"

Given another three seconds, Bill could, doubtless, have come up with a snappy response. But he didn't have another three seconds, thanks to the overly vociferous director; and so all Leonard got was a glare as Bill walked away.

As he stood on the set, trying to push out his lines through the mind-numbing sensation of crotch-pressure ready to burst - (this made him sound oddly staccato) - he consoled himself with the thought that this had almost certainly happened to Kirk. Probably more than once. He was willing to bet Vulcans were just as good at this kind of fuckery as Leonard was. Particularly half-Vulcans.

Oh, he was going to give Leonard what-for, all right. Discipline was, after all, the responsibility of the Captain.

*