The BLTS Archive- The Cooking One
by Rae Trail (rae_trail@yahoo.com)

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Hi, folks.  A brief offering from the kitchen... I was sorting out my
various implements of culinary construction for packing and it just
happened...

Warnings: Contains explicit m/m sex.  Or tries to contain it, I'm sure
some of it will leak out.

Disclaimers: Paramount owns these people, despite the fact that
slavery is illegal in most of the world.  I ain't stealin' them, I'm
only treating them to a meal.  Outta pocket, too.

Archives: BLTs, ASCEM, sure.

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"Spock!"

Spock stiffened over his terminal, finger poised over the scroll key.
He closed his eyes, hearing a muffled thump from the entry.  Saturday,
he remembered suddenly.  Cooking show morning.  Cooking afternoon.  He
sighed softly and began to shut down the various programs he was
working on.

"Spock, I know you can hear me, there are two bags still left on the
landing."

He heard his human making an untidy progression toward the kitchen.
Spock stood up slowly, stretching, muscles requiring warmth after
hours of sitting at his desk.  He waited for the soft chime that told
him all his work was safe, and set the system to ?rest' mode, then
strode out of the room.

He scooped up the remaining bags, locked the front door, and made his
way into the kitchen.  Jim was busy at the table, unloading goodies
from the four bags he'd managed to bring through on his own.  Jim
looked up as Spock entered and shot him a brilliant smile, and Spock
lifted one eyebrow as he set down his bags.  "May one enquire?"

"One may," Jim replied lightly, teasing.  Spock scanned the items on
the table, looked back at his lover.  Waited.  Jim finally sighed and
lifted up one bag. "I've been to Beijing.  The best alien specialty
shop on Earth."

"Expensive shopping trip.  To whom shall I send my note of gratitude?
Was it the ?Transport Gourmet'  again, or ?Cooking with Clarity'?"

Jim shook his head, examining a package of something white, soft and
evidently fun to squeeze. "No, not this week.  It was the ?Culinary
Arts of the Federation', and you're going to love it."  With that last
he skirted the table and planted a kiss on Spock's cheek.  "Better
yet, you don't even have to peel the veggies this week.  Though you
could pour us both a glass of something."

Spock moved automatically toward the cabinet in which Jim kept all his
varieties of booze. "Culinary Arts.  Am I going to be experimenting
with the effects of Andorian piscines on the Vulcan digestive system?
Which particular flavour of alcohol would you prefer?"

"Hmmm... I think a vodka martini would suit me right now.  Three
olives, please.  No, no alien fish, I learned my lesson on that.  It's
strictly vegetable... well, vegetative anyway.  I promise you nothing
here ever had a heart."

/Including you when you're cooking,/ Spock thought absently, and
looked up at the clucking of Jim's tongue. /I apologize, I meant that
to be private./

"I'll bet you did.  Cooking is fun, Spock.  Don't you think so? 
Ever?"

Spock relented slightly as he poured a precise measure of vodka into
the shaker, then added the vermouth.  "I must admit I get a great deal
of satisfaction out of your enjoyment of it."  He paced to the
refrigerator  and retrieved a frosted martini glass and a single
ice-cube from the freezer, and the olives from the fridge.  Assembling
a martini was a craft he was very good at.  He dropped the ice-cube
into the shaker, gave a dozen short, sharp shakes to the container.
Interesting how quickly one ice-cube could lower the temperature of
the shaker to the point that it was uncomfortable to hold.  Spock
lifted the shaker to his cheek and startled slightly at the sensation.
 Set it down and considered the chemical changes going on in the...

"Spock?  Martini?"

Martini.  Right.  He finished the assemblage with the requested three
olives, grimaced slightly at the bitter smell of the concoction, and
set it on the counter.  Jim was busy assembling his ingredients, and
Spock peered over his shoulder.  "What is that pink thing?  It looks
rather... uncomfortably familiar."

"Phallic, isn't it?  It's called larsha, it's from Telar.  Don't
worry, it gets all chopped up."

Spock shuddered, turned to the fridge to get himself a juice.  Pink
food.  He selected a citrus juice mixture and returned to the counter.
 Stopped in his tracks at the sight of Jim fondling a large green
gourd-like object, obviously lost in thought... he was *stroking* it.
Spock took a slow breath and opted for a chair at the table instead of
a stand at the counter, clamping down hard to keep his bizarre arousal
from reaching his lover through their bond.  He watched Jim set the
gourd down and take a sip from his martini, realized he was talking.
"..through the blender once it's softened, with those things, they're
some kind of hot pepper equivalent.." ah.  Nothing that would need a
reply.  He examined his reaction and realized, quite suddenly, that
the sensuous pleasure that Jim took in cooking an exciting new meal
was very little different from the pleasure both of them took...
watching one another bath, for instance.  Or dress.  Not the
overwhelming sexual ecstasy of skin-on-skin, but once removed, a sort
of voyeuristic pleasure.

This new insight into his lover pleased him enormously, and he sat
back smiling.  Well, he was an admitted and committed voyeur where
this man was concerned.  Let the show begin. 

Jim prattled while he did his prep work.  Spock monitored the chatter
just enough to know if a nod or shake of the head was necessary,
instead concentrating on what Jim was doing with the food.  The green
gourd, smooth skinned, was being mercilessly peeled.  Jim was holding
it against his belly with one hand, the paring knife expertly wielded
with the other.  He turned the gourd every stroke... Spock
experimented in his own mind, removing the paring knife from Jim's
hand and imagining what it would feel like to have similar firm, long
strokes applied to any part of his anatomy.     He was mildly
surprised to find a warmth growing in his bell, to discover that his
cock was stirring.

Spock was not given to sexual fantasy, as a rule.  He had acted out
parts for Jim, on occasion, as the human got the most peculiar notions
of what was *fun*, and Spock was usually satisfied by the results of
such experiments.  Most often, if sexually aroused by his partner,
Spock tended to act upon his desires immediately, if the timing was
convenient, and Jim was almost always willing.  But to sit and think
about sex... and in such a strange context... This was a new
experience for the Vulcan.

Jim set the gourd into a pot of water and Spock, released, sighed.
Jim turned to him. "Look, if this is boring you, I really don't mind
if you go back to your work."

"Oh, no.  I am not bored, I assure you.  Please, carry on."

Jim smiled affectionately and turned around to plop the large, white,
squeezable thing into a bowl.  He plunged his hands in and began to
kneed it, vigorously.  Spock stifled the gasp as he imagined the hands
on him, felt his eyes getting larger.  Jim lifted the white stuff in
sections, running his fingers down it, then lifted the whole thing and
set it onto the chopping board.  He left it lying there and deftly
sliced into a lemon-ish fruit.  Picked up the wooden fruit juicer and
began to ream the juices out over top of the slightly quivering white
mass, the muscles in his arm tensing and untensing, the juicer moving
round, and round...  Finished, plunged the juicer into his mouth to
get all the excess juice off of it.   Spock almost moaned.

Jim tossed the white mass into the blender and deftly slit and added
several small, juicy, red globes, then activated the blades for a
second.  Done, he reached in a finger and sampled the results, eyes
closed, smiling softly, his tongue sweeping the residue from his lips.

"Mmmm... luscious."

Spock, riveted, watched Jim take down the marble mortar and pestle.
Jim tossed a handful of some hard, round things into the mortar, then
picked it up off the counter and began to grind.  The spice, or
whatever it was, was obviously a challenge, for Jim had the mortar
pressed hard against his lower chest as he moved the thick pestle in a
harsh up/down motion.  His knuckles were white, gripping the bulbous
end.  His breath went out in an almost-grunt at each downward stroke.
He'd stopped chatting, and his tongue was protruding ever so slightly
at the effort of grinding...

Spock nearly cried out as he stopped and set the mortar down.  He was
rock hard, and could feel himself trembling.  Spock felt a growl
building up in his throat.  He rose in one motion and crossed to Jim.
Took the pestle in one hand and captured the startled face in the
other, caressing the hard jaw line. 

"Spock?  Uh... what's wrong?"

Spock raised the pestle to his lips and kissed it, then licked it from
bottom to top.  Jim's eyes grew huge and he smiled. "Spock.  You're as
hard as a board.  Or should I say hard as a pestle?"

Jim's hands moved to capture his ass, pressing his own crotch against
the bulging erection in the Vulcan's trousers.   Spock groaned and
bent down for a kiss, found the human's hand in the way. "You're
interrupting my cooking, Spock."

Spock felt the blood rushing to his face. Obviously he had guessed
wrong.  "I apologize."

"You should.  Take off your clothes."

Spock stared.  Jim lifted the pestle from his suddenly nerveless
fingers and ran it lightly down Spock's spine, letting it rest against
his ass. "Take off your clothes, Spock," he whispered.  Then he
pressed the pestle against the crack between the hard cheeks and at
the same time squeezed gently with his other hand.  Spock's head went
back at the sensation of the hand and the marble shaft, combined with
the growing pressure of the human's cock beside his own. Then Jim
released him and he staggered backward. "Take off your clothes."

Curiosity and driving lust combined to make the Vulcan comply.  He
stripped down quickly, tossed his clothes onto a chair and
straightened up, facing the human.  Jim perused him slowly, a half
smile on his face.  Spock opened the channel to their bond and felt
the slightly sadistic, very horny tenor of the human's thoughts.
Spock's cock lept and he licked his lips. "Jim.  Please."

"Turn around, my dear.  Good man.  Now lean over and hold onto the
table edge."

A thrill of fear laced up the Vulcan's spine as he considered.  This
was Jim, compliant and ever ready to please.  But Jim, whom he
absolutely trusted.  He nodded once and turned around, gripped the
table edge firmly.

There was a few small noises behind him.  Then James' hand, like a
feather on the small of his back, almost made him jump away.  The hand
stroked once, then retreated. "Spread your legs, Spock."

Spock obeyed.  Felt something warm and wet trickle down the crack of
his ass, and then Jim's hand gently massaging his butt cheeks.  The
hands spread that wet warmth to his anus, and a single finger pressed
easily inside.  He moaned out loud and pressed backward, heard Jim's
low chuckle. "My dear Vulcan, you're as bad as I am.  Hold still,
please."

The finger withdrew.  Then a slick, hard, cold pressure at his anus.
He forced himself to relax, panting.  Jim's hand came around and began
to stroke Spock's erection, gently, drawing attention away from that
relentless pressure at his ass hole... "Good, Spock.  Relax.  This may
be a bit chilly at first..."

Smooth!  Huge! Spock tensed but the pestle, sliding with some
difficulty into his anus, was unyielding.  He gasped at the sudden
pain and forced himself to relax again.  It seemed to take forever
going in, filling him entirely.  It was every bit as long as Jim's
cock, he decided, but thicker, and *cold*...  His hips moved
spontaneously, seeking to make Jim's strokes on his cock firmer.  The
pestle slid in to the bulb, and the relentless pressing vanished.

And so did the hand on his cock.

He got his breathing under control and slowly straightened up.  Jim
was watching him from a few feet away, head to one side, smiling,
breathing fast.  "Yes, I like that.  Hands behind your back, now,
Spock.  Please."

Spock nearly rebelled, but felt nothing of threat down the bond, only
love, lust, and that slightly sadistic urge that was so unusual in his
human.  He stood at parade rest, thinking how incongruous it was
without a uniform on.  The cold weight in his ass was sending strange
messages through his prostate and he shuddered once, then stood still.
 Jim nodded and lifted the tea towel from the rack.  He crossed behind
Spock and tied it tightly around his crossed wrists.  The Vulcan
tested the bond automatically, knowing he could tear through it if he
needed to.  Felt the flash of understanding agreement from Jim and
relaxed entirely, wondering what was next.

Next was staggering.  Jim pulled his head down and kissed him
thoroughly, then released him and turned back to his cooking.  "My
dear Vulcan, if I interrupt you in your work because I'm horny I fully
expect to get royally reamed.  In fact I often hope for it.  Now you
have discovered that the kitchen is my toy, and when I'm playing with
it I don't need distractions.  Yes?"

"Yes, Jim."  Spock found his voice was barely recognizable.

Jim was using a rubber spatula to scrap the reddish material from the
blender.  It had the consistency of a pudding, Spock estimated.  He
tried the tea towel bonds again, and in shifting moved the pestle
buried in his ass.  He gasped and held still.   Jim turned back to him
and set down the tools he was using.  Smiled.  Reached down with one
hand and unzipped his fly, easing his own erect cock out of his pants.

"You have distracted me, Spock. Perhaps you'll take care of this so I
can get on with my work."

Spock gazed at the full cock, and found he was licking dry lips.  He
took a step toward Jim, felt the pestle move hard against his prostate
and anus and stopped, gasping.  Decided to kneel where he was.  That
proved inordinately difficult with his hands tied but he made it down
without falling, the improvised butt-plug sending waves of pleasure
through him at every movement.   The fact that *Jim* was doing this to
him doubled the pleasure, and by the time he was on his knees he knew
he'd come in a second if Jim just *touched* his cock...

He looked up, begging with his eyes.  Instead of moving toward him,
Jim turned back to the bowl on the counter and, with the spatula,
spread a generous layer of the reddish paste along the length of his
cock.  Only then did he close the gap between them and take Spock's
head in his hands.  "All yours, lover," he husked, and Spock reached
out a tentative tongue to taste the offering.

It was delicious.  He licked the length of the hard shaft, stopped to
taste the unusual flavour, then dove back down and let his tongue
swirl around his lover's cock from base to tip.   Licked the creamy
red paste from the delicate head, and was rewarded by Jim's gasp, and
Jim's hands clutching at his shoulders.  Spock's own cock bumped
almost painfully against his belly, harder than he ever remembered it
being, sending a shock right through him.  He ran his tongue up the
back of Jim's cock and then slowly took the head into his mouth.  The
red cream ran down his chin as he engulfed the pulsing length, taking
it all, opening his throat to Jim as he rarely did, until his lips
were tight around the base.  Jim cried out as Spock tightened his grip
and began to move up and down the shaft.  Spock was aware of the
human's hips beginning to thrust forward, and his own need became more
than he could bear.  The sound of the tea towel ripping was lost in
Jim's cries.  Hands free now, Spock gripped one of Jim's hips to
steady him, and wrapped the other around his own cock.  Began to pump
himself in rhythm with his strokes along Jim's cock.  Spock felt his
balls tighten even as Jim's hands convulsed on his shoulders.  They
came together, Spock's hot semen spurting up between them even as he
swallowed the alien taste of Jim pumping into his mouth...

He helped his trembling human onto the kitchen floor and both knelt
there, panting, staring at each other.  Jim reached out a hand and
stroked Spock's face lovingly, and smiled.

"Thank you."

Spock heard the many levels of thanks in that expression, and returned
the smile, then turned his face into Jim's hand and kissed the palm.

"You are more than welcome, James.  But may I please, please take this
thing out of my ass now?"

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The End