Freakoid
Ghosts can laugh but they're already dead
A Fragment out of Time by Diane Marchant
K\S
The first fic in history.
Star Trek
NC-17
Re-written
NOTHING BELONGS TO ME. I DO NOT OWN ANY PART OF THE FOLLOWING TEXT.



“Shut up... we're by no means setting a [...]”

He was quiet and not merely because he used to obeying that voice implicitly. He was being peeled slowly like a delicate fruit in time of some pagan rhythm and he found his logical mind was swathed in a white mist of sensuous well-being.

Gentle hands spread warm oil slowly in ever-widening circles over his chest. Tantalizingly tracing fingers ran over each nipple flicking the tip lightly.
A slow deliberate tongue reached out to each erect button. He shivered then sourmed surprising himself. A sleek well-oiled torso slid over his chest down his navel.
Tiny shivers accompanied the soft nips at his abdomen. Warm oil was dribbled over lower areas; then a massaging finger made him glisten. Even his thighs were being massaged... the pressure was... delicious. Well-skilled hands made long swooping strokes, from his knee up the inside of his leg to the upper thighs.
Now he could not prevent this, any more than he could stop solar eclipse...
even if he'd really desired to. It had been building all these years... no one set of circumstances was the cause... now it seemed to be inevitable from the outset.

He felt a tightening as he contracted a little when pubic hair was brushed slightly. The weight of his legs and the sensuous stretching of the gliding above him made his pulse race.
A strong pair of hands turned him onto the stomach.
A river of heated oil [...] a hissing trail down his spine; light feathery fingers sent the trail into the very core of his being. His buttocks were being massaged... slowly at first; then the tempo gradually increased, until two hands were counter-rotating each squeezing alternately; then abruptly it stopped.

“Hell! Do not stop...” he hissed.
Th other [….] and then ran expert hands even more over the surface and then between the legs, spreading them effortlessly. [….] palms cradled a very sensitive area that just had been exposed. Then the area was being stroked as a tongue flicked. Softly he was on his back again. And both head and a darting tongue were busy. His eyes were tight shut, tears squeezing from the corners. A hand began to pulp as if to milk. He felt he'd go mad! He was being oiled again, his groin massaged, then gently stroked. A flush had crept from the base of his scull onto his groin. He yearned, he ached; wished he never were. Weight was upon him and his legs invaded.
A shock wave swept through him for a second, only to b replaced by pleasure; as an easy pressure gyrated smoothly, exquisitely within him.
Vibration... teasingly delicious vibration. How uniquely wonderful... the feeling at the base... there. [...] of thumb and forefinger was working too, pulling slowly [….].
The rhythm increasing, the grip tightening. A stray finger circling the tip, pressed. Fore; fire!
Lips on lips... depths, spirals, colors, tensing... reaching, climbing.. flying, coming. Darkness that is light... the explosion... the NOVA.

Tomorrow... tomorrow will tell... sleep. “Sleep.”

@темы: K\S, a fragment out of time, first fic in history, star trek slash