the_deep_magic | FIC: Star Trek -- Pool Boy

Title: Pool Boy
Author: the_deep_magic
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 981
Warning: crack, crack, and more crack
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
Summary: Just because it's shore leave doesn't mean Spock's off duty.
A/N: I don't even know, you guys, it was just such a great mental image. Fills the domestic/tradesman square on my Kink Bingo card.

Spock blinked.

Then he blinked again. “Cap—Jim, you are perfectly aware that, as a desert species, Vulcans are physiologically unsuited to aquatic recreation.”

“Oh, that’s just the name,” Jim chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. “You don’t actually have to go in the pool if you don’t want to.”

“Then I confess, I am confused as to the duties this profession entails.”

Jim smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, just a little general maintenance. Maybe some light cleaning. It’s mostly aesthetics and beverage service.”

“Am I to understand you wish me to bring you drinks and to… look pretty?”

“Hey, your communications skills really are improving.”

The eyebrow. “And my motivation for indulging this particular whim of yours?”

“My hometown, my rules. Next time we have shore leave on New Vulcan, you can make me light incense and, I dunno, dress up in ceremonial robes.”

“Jim, you do not—”

“Which reminds me – there’s a dress code.”

&&&

Spock shuffled uncomfortably out into the sunlight and Jim gave him the thumbs-up. “They look good!”

“They are unnecessarily tight.”

“They’re aerodynamic! Well, hydrodynamic.”

“I was assured I would not be required to enter the water.”

“No, I’m just saying, if you had to swim fast, you could.” Spock looked unconvinced. “And they’re blue! For science!”

The gesture was obviously not as appreciated as Jim hoped it would be, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be too miffed. The trunks fit snugly against Spock’s thighs, ass, and – most importantly – bulge. True, his skin was almost blindingly white in the afternoon sun, but Kirk’s sunglasses were the expensively polarized kind – perks of a captain’s salary.

Spock sighed and handed Jim a glass of lemonade, then clutched his hands behind his back; the stance was familiar, but the fact that he was showing that much skin was not. “What duty will you be requiring of me first?”

How did he manage to roll his eyes without rolling his eyes? “Hmm,” Jim mused, taking his time and looking Spock up and down. “The pool’s looking a little dirty. The skimmer’s over there.”

He pointed to the mesh net on a pole propped up on the corner. He was certain Spock had never seen anything like it in his life, but he took one look at it, then at the pool, then picked up the skimmer and began sweeping the leaves off the surface of the water. Jim smiled. It was a pretty easy puzzle, but he always enjoyed watching Spock figuring things out. His mouth went all tight and his eyes narrowed; it was kind of hot.

Jim was lost in thought, reminiscing about the many times he’d seen his first officer make that face (especially the time he’d tossed Spock the handcuffs, laid back on the bed, and told the Vulcan to use his imagination), only brought back to the present when he heard Spock muttering, “Manual leaf collection is an extremely inefficient way to clean a pool.”

Jim started to laugh, but then caught a glimpse of his boyfriend’s butt as Spock was standing back up. “Bend over and keep scooping. You missed a few over there,” Jim said, pointing helpfully, watching as the perfectly defined muscles in Spock’s back bunched and shifted as he worked.

He managed to scoop up the remaining leaves disappointingly quickly, but Jim was ready for the expectant look when he set the skimmer aside. “I know you’ve got the whole UV-proof skin and all,” Jim said, temporarily forgetting the sunglasses and fluttering his lashes innocently. “But I don’t. Would you put some sunscreen on my back?” He waited to make sure Spock had assented before flipping onto his stomach on the lounge chair. “Lotion’s on the table. Make sure you do a thorough job.”

He heard Spock breathe out what could have been a sigh, but Jim didn’t have to wait long for big, warm hands to start rubbing across his back, starting up at his shoulders and stroking downward. Not knowing exactly how low Spock’s shields were at the moment, Jim tried to project his general sense of satisfaction and bliss to his first officer’s perceptive fingers. Meticulous as always, Spock covered every inch of skin from Jim’s neck to the waistband of his swimsuit – though nothing lower. And he pulled his hands away the moment he had rubbed the last of the lotion in.

But the Vulcan didn’t move from his prim perch on the side of Jim’s chair, so Jim turned over once more and looked coyly over at Spock. “I could really use some lotion here, too,” Jim said in his sultriest voice, rubbing his hands lightly over his legs.

“Jim, you are perfectly capable of applying sunscreen to your own inner thighs.”

Jim whipped off the sunglasses. “Okay, are you really not getting this whole thing, or—?”

“Or?” Spock asked innocently, both his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline, and Jim knew he was being played.

He couldn’t help it – he burst into laughter. “Or how about I jump into the pool and drag you in after me?”

“I doubt you could manage to drag me anywhere,” Spock said carefully. “Captain.”

“I’ll captain you,” Jim growled, leaping up from the chair. Spock deflected him easily, and the last thing he felt before ground gave way to water was the slap of an open hand on his ass.

&&&

Much later, as the sun was going down and they lay twined together across the lawn chair, Spock murmured, “I remain unconvinced that all so-called ‘pool boys’ provide this particular service to their clients.”

Jim laughed, mouthing at the hot expanse of skin near his lips. “The good ones do.” Then he had a thought. “Hey Spock, where did my swim trunks end up?”

As Spock opened his mouth to answer, a loud sucking, ripping noise emanated from the pool filter.

Jim groaned.