Work Text:
There is nothing but white hot silence. The distinct humming a person hears when a room is far too quiet. But Leonard feels touch. A burning touch against him, on his skin. All over his chest as he sits back against a velvet softness. The fabric pressed against his bare back has an odd friction, one he can't make out but he's sure he'll remember now. The hot touch is travelling up his legs, which are bare as well. He wasn't aware. Perhaps his mind was caught up in other things. This sensation which he ached for at every second of the day. Intimacy, closeness.
Hands slipped around his thighs and the fingers moved in circles, causing a moan to rise in his throat. He opens his mouth to release it but he hears no sound. The hands move from his thighs to caress his sweat drenched chest, tweaking his nipples which had grown to sensitive buds. He feels each touch as it's an electric shock and it's destination is nestled rather uncomfortably in his groin.
Then a mouth locks itself onto the side of his neck, kissing and biting with a distinct gentleness. He feels the tongue glide across the pinked skin and again gives a moan he cannot hear. He wants to move his arms but they are tied down to the chair he is in. He wants to grab handfuls of the hair of the person beneath him. And more than anything, he wants to feel the heat of the other.
He'd also rather like to see who it was. But every time he blinked there was nothing but white, nearly blinding. So his eyes remain shut seemingly in ecstasy. The hands move to palm his straining erection and a surprised, still silent yelp escapes him. A clear burning in his lungs is now made apparent to him. He has been gasping for air. The hand plays with him mercilessly while the mouth works on a second spot. The previously abused place of skin on his neck is throbbing from being bitten in just the right way. He knows he's been marked. Branded.
He feels a hot breath against his ear and the panting can be heard amongst the silence. It's disturbingly familiar. The voice whispers his name, "Leonard, Leonard." as if he's chanting praise for something Leonard isn't doing.
The hands move to pull his briefs down just enough so that his cock is loose and the air nips at the burning skin. The mouth moves to attach to the head of his erection and Leonard wants to see the show as well as feel it. His neck is stiff but still he moves it down and opens his eyes to squint. He sees the figure beneath him, blurry but real. He blinks to clear his bleary gaze and his breath hitches in disbelief. Jim Kirk is sucking him off. The thought of this situation on it's own makes him squirm and a needy growl rumble in his chest. His stiff neck moves so he can look up. In front of them are the figures of the crew. He has been sitting snugly in the captains chair. The reality of the situation hits him hard in the gut and leaves him screaming a breathless cry.
Leonard gasps and sits up, rubbing his soaking forehead in his single bed in his quarters on the starship. A dream. Just a dream. He shifts his legs a bit and groans. A dream with too much of a happy ending. Great.