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Leonard finished his water shower and stepped onto the cushy bath mat to dry off. He studied his body in the mirror, taking inventory of the signs of fatigue and inevitable aging. The bags under his eyes were getting worse, the fine frown lines were turning into canyons, and his head was sprouting more grays by the day. However, all these and more were excellent reasons why he deserved to relax, sit back, and pamper himself that evening. Hell, Leonard worked double shifts that week to make up for Christie and M’Benga being out sick. Yeah. This night was for Leonard. He’d earned it.
After stealing some of his favorite lotions and oils from Spock’s stash, Leonard exited his side of the bathroom and— “Well, butter my biscuit.” Spock set up his favorite chair in front of a holovid of a fireplace that was actually emitting heat. Granted, Spock was nagging him to take this night for a week, so it wasn’t a surprise that he’d set up something sweet for him.
Leonard set the stolen sundries on the side table and propped his right foot on the firm, velvety seat of the chair. He was still slightly damp from the shower, which enhanced absorption, and he wanted to be softer than a peach. Leonard grabbed the first bottle—a spicy smelling, and feeling, oil—and poured an ample amount into his palm. He started with his shin and calf and moved upward, massaging as he went. The oil made his skin tingle, and the wafting heat from the faux flames amplified the sensation.
By the time Leonard got to his hip, his arms and legs were covered in goosebumps, and his blood rapidly flowed south. He still had three more limbs and a torso to go before he got to that part, though; Little Lenny would have to wait until his turn in the routine. Next up was his left leg, and Leonard did it in much the same fashion, his erection growing even more. After he was done with his legs, Leonard turned around and sat on the chair, adjusting himself until he was comfortable on the oddly-shaped seat. From here, he leaned forward to massage and oil his feet, hands, arms, and finally, his torso.
Leonard lingered on his chest, tracing his pectoral muscles and ghosting by his nipples. He leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall back as he finally let his fingers tease over his areolae. The oil's heating effect made it sting, but the burn heightened the pleasure when Leonard pinched and rolled the already-pebbling flesh of his nipples. He groaned as he alternated pinches, left then right, right then left. Leonard changed tactics whenever they became too sensitive and pulled at his chest hair, which was softened by the oil. He centered his palms over his nipples and squeezed his chest tightly before reluctantly letting go and reaching for another bottle.
Vulcans have sensitive skin, though it was not common knowledge among non-Vulcans. They had scent glands at most major joints and junctions and did not sweat—though Spock was an oddball in that regard—which left them prone to pore blockage and dry skin if they weren’t careful. Leonard found it a weird evolutionary choice, and Spock skirted around the topic whenever he had to treat the poor Vulcan for a nasty case of acne. Apparently, if Spock were to be believed, pre-Surakian Vulcans handled things in a primitive way, while the post-Surakian methods with oils and lotions were far superior. Superior my ass.
Leonard restarted his routine with the next step: cooling lotion. Right leg, left leg, feet, hands, arms, and torso. The juxtaposition of the temperatures caused his brain and body to stutter. His eyes fluttered shut as he accidentally swiped over his left nipple with an errant pinky, and his sensitivity was so heightened that he felt his eyelashes brushing against his cheek. Leonard also felt the chair's velvety, almost fur-like texture against his back. He arched into the feeling, pressing his shoulders and ass as close as he could. “Fuck, that’s good…”
When Leonard was finished with his chest, he took a deep breath and reached for the third bottle. It took months, even after he started dating Spock, for Leonard to figure out what this bottle was for. It was milky, thick, unscented, and smooth as silk. When they’d shower together, he would always try and goad Spock into telling him what it was for, but Spock would yank it back and put it away. Usually with the most adorable blush that Leonard happily took advantage of and exacerbated. But when Leonard came home early from a long conference, he walked in on Spock using the unnamed concoction as lube.
The image of Spock taking himself into his hands, losing control, and mumbling Leonard’s name like a chant… Leonard poured a small amount of the viscous liquid into one of his palms, closed the bottle, and set it back on the side table. He warmed it in his hand, placed his other hand on the arm of the chair, and started palming himself. Much like Spock’s natural stuff, the lube stayed slick far longer than regular lubes, and a little went a long way. It had to be that way, considering how quickly a Vulcan’s internal penis could dry out if it wasn’t constantly coated. Made for excellent human lube, too.
Leonard sighed as he slowly and sensually spread the slick liquid over his aching cock. If he made his touch light enough, it felt like he was dragging silk ribbons across his flesh, and damn did it feel good. Leonard moved his fingertips slowly up and down his length with one hand while his other gripped the arm of his chair for dear life. He then spread his legs and moved his hand down to play with his sack, giving himself a firm squeeze before pulling, rolling, and squeezing again. The touch was almost electric, but he wasn’t ready to give in to the pleasure yet.
“Mm, time for my favorite part,” Leonard hummed as he stretched his back over the back of the chair one last time. “Best part.”
The next stage of the routine only happened when Spock provided the chair. Leonard loved this stage. It was rare that he got to indulge, and it felt utterly filthy while he was doing it, but hey—he didn’t have to set it up or clean up the mess, so why not? He gave his balls one last squeeze and stood up, stretched, and turned around. Leonard put his arms on the back of the chair, looped one leg and then the other under the wide armrests, and straddled the chair's seat. His eyes closed again as he blindly reached for the lube, applying an ample amount to his leaking cock, and putting it away.
“Alright, calm down, Lenny, make it last…” Leonard gave himself one firm stroke and then pressed himself against the back of the chair, the texture almost setting him off with one hasty jerk of his hips. He tried to start slow and smooth, but it was just so good that his hips began moving on their own. Leonard had little control, and when his thrusts became eager enough that there was a squelching noise, that control promptly left. He gripped the back of the chair, nails digging in, and he jerked his hips forward roughly. Leonard’s eyes shut tight, his head dropped, and he rocked his hips firmly into the soft, plushy texture of the chair. Lost in the rhythm, he started mumbling Spock’s name.
The chair started vibrating with Leonard’s thrusts, creaking under their strength, and he was briefly worried he’d break the damn thing— “Leonard, I cannot…”
Leonard froze and pulled his hips back and off Spock, blinking a few times to center himself. He shuddered and looked down into those gorgeous brown eyes he loved so much. “Sorry, Spock, I lost myself there.”
“M-may I?” Spock asked almost incoherently. His hands, draped across the armrests of the actual chair, were shaking. He was breathing heavily, and his control was rapidly breaking down. “I… I must…”
“Well, hun,” Leonard started with a growing grin, “this is your scene. What do you want to do?”
The noise that came out of Spock was the most desperate noise Leonard had ever heard come out of him. And just as quickly as it came out, Spock went quiet. He pressed his forehead to Leonard’s chest and kissed his sternum. “I wish to touch you as you finish.”
Leonard nodded and carefully pried Spock’s hands off the armrests, kissed them both, and then laced their fingers together. “Are you you, or are you still a masturbatory tool for me to use?”
“I am a tool for your pleasure, and you are a test of my control,” Spock hissed as he clenched his hands tighter against Leonard’s.
“Mm, we can do that.” Leonard kissed Spock’s temple and slowly returned Spock to his former position: arms along the armrests, back straight against the chairback, and legs along the front legs. He stepped out, still hard as a rock and leaking, to check Spock’s blood flow and look for any injuries, then giddily climbed back on when everything turned up good. This time, however, Leonard kept his hands on Spock’s as he started grinding against him.
Leonard got back into a rhythm and soon lost himself in it, whining Spock’s name and trying to cover it up by biting the ‘chair.’ It didn’t take long for him to spill over the edge—and all over himself and Spock’s stomach and chest. Leonard collapsed and let his head drop to Spock’s shoulder, not having enough energy to keep up the furniture act. His thighs started to burn as his body caught up with what it’d done for the past hour, but Leonard knew he didn’t have much time to rest. “Usual?”
“Affirmative.”
“Alright, sweet cheeks, I’ll follow your lead.” Leonard reached over to the side table, grabbed the bottle of lube, and dripped an ample amount over his stomach and groin. He tossed the bottle over his shoulder, got a perturbed glare from Spock, and started spreading out the smooth substance. Once Spock was happy with the coverage, he rapidly unsheathed into Leonard’s waiting hands. “That’s it, Spock, let it out. All of it.”
Spock grunted and started rocking his hips back and forth, trying to quicken the unsheathing process. His eyes went vacant, and Leonard pressed their foreheads together, wanting Spock to return to Earth—err—the Enterprise. Instead, Spock pulled Leonard roughly by the hips and thrust against his stomach, much like Leonard had been doing earlier. However, a fully unsheathed Vulcan was considerably larger, and double fisting didn’t remotely cover the thing. Leonard pressed the bottom of Spock’s dick to his stomach and groin and moved his hands down along the other side. When one reached the base, he’d move it to Spock’s tip and start all over.
Leonard relished the jerky little thrusts that slipped Spock’s control once he was finished unsheathing. He leaned into them, rolled his whole body against Spock as a reward, and kissed and nipped along his jaw. Spock never lasted long in this stage, especially when Leonard could play him like a fiddle. A few more strokes, a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his palm across the tip, and Spock was done. He was rendered a shuddering, shivering wreck of a Vulcan, and Leonard was the one who made him that way.
“There you go, darlin’,” Leonard soothed as he gently held Spock’s now-limp penis and helped it retract back into his sheath. “Almost made it the whole way this time.” He slowly moved off Spock and helped him out of the chair, albeit with shaky legs. “How ya feelin’?” Leonard drawled as he lazily walked toward the bathroom, Spock’s hand in his.
“Adequate,” Spock mumbled.
“Brain still mushy?” Spock nodded and leaned into him as they got in the shower, pulled out the seat, and collapsed onto it. “I gotcha, Spock. I gotcha.”
They washed off, the cum and lube proving difficult with their combined obnoxious amounts of body hair. But they got cleaned, Leonard reapplied the oils and lotions to his and Spock’s skin, and they moved the comedown party to the bedroom. Spock was finally returning to himself, just as Leonard was drifting off into the post-orgasm-slash-dead-tired haze of an afterglow. Leonard flopped onto the covers, and Spock reoriented and tucked him in. “Were you satisfied?”
Leonard nodded as he snuggled into Spock’s refreshed—and squeaky clean—chest fuzz. “Yeah, Spock. ‘S good.”
“You appear to be getting more comfortable with the role.”
“Mm? I guess. Hard to treat you like furniture when all I wanna do is kiss ya.” Leonard yawned and flopped an arm over Spock’s stomach, settling his hand on Spock’s steadily beating heart. “I definitely like makin’ ya lose control, though.”
Spock huffed and hugged Leonard close, breathing in his scent—which was mostly Spock’s, though he always said Leonard maintained a smell of his own. “You are difficult to resist.” He whispered into Leonard’s crown as he ran his long fingers through his hair, tugging gently whenever Spockfelt him drifting. “Were there any alterations we could have made to make the experience more enjoyable for you?”
Leonard shrugged. “Could let your dick out earlier. Let me go for a sit ‘n’ spin.” Spock recoiled, and Leonard laughed. “Aw, c’mon, Spock. Didn’t you say you wanted to improve your control ‘round me? People ride dildos on chairs all the time! Hell, I’ve even done it!”
Instead of responding, Spock rolled Leonard off of him and pushed him out of bed. “I am not an object.”
Leonard landed with an undignified grunt and poked his head over the side of the bed. Given the context of their scene, he had to fight to keep a straight face over the absurdity of Spock’s statement. “You wanna think that statement through?” he asked as he playfully tugged on the blankets.
“...I will take it under consideration.”