sharpestscalpel

Title: A Strong Maternal Hand
Author:

sharpestscalpel
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17 to be safe
Word Count 3908
Pairing: Lady!Pike/cadet!Jim (vague mention of Number One/Lady!Pike and cadet!Lady!Pike/cadet!Winona Kirk)
Original Prompt: 10. Kirk whimpering lady!Pike's name as she dominates the insubordination out of him.
Summary: Christina Pike decides to try something a little different when Jim Kirk's shenanigans threaten his position at the Academy.
Warnings: Age gap, spanking, mommy!kink (but in a daddy!kink sort of fashion - it got genderswapped, too).

A Strong Maternal Hand

"I knew your mother, you know." Captain Christina Pike surveyed the wreck of a cadet sitting on the other side of her desk. She'd talked Jim Kirk into joining Starfleet but she'd had less luck talking him into curbing his violent tendencies, his need to lash out, and his sexual promiscuity.

He was going to wash out if he kept it up; his grades could only save him from so much. Pike could only save him from so much and there was only so much risk she was willing to take with her career for the sake of lost Winona's boy-child.

Jim Kirk slumped further in his chair. He was fucking this up. He already knew it and another lecture about his mother - because all the professors lectured him about his mother - wasn't going to help. There was just... he couldn't help it sometimes. It was like being back in Riverside, George disappearing back into space trying to stay as close as possible to his memories of his wife, and Francine trying to button him up into church suits and evening prayers as though just making him bend his head for grace was going to save him and Sam. It made him want to punch things - like the nose of the asshole in the bar giving him shit over his fucking eyelashes of all things. Yes, yes, goddamn it, he had Winona's eyes.

Sometimes he wished he didn't, that he looked nothing like her, had taken after George more. Then maybe George would have stuck around instead of looking like he'd seen a ghost whenever Jim walked into a room, before he'd picked his commission back up and left them all.

It took a minute for him to realize it - Pike hadn't started in on the lecture after all. Instead, she was looking at him, a softer gaze than he'd seen before, almost fond. He'd dwell on that later - she'd featured in more than a few of his masturbation fantasies and his catalog of her expressions was useful for that. "Um, yeah, I think you mentioned that." If he sounded unsure, it was because he was always unsure talking to Pike - and not simply because he had, that very morning, thought about the way her nose wrinkled when she was focused on something, intent and purposeful, and wondered if it would look the same if she sucked his cock. She could kick his ass - would kick his out right out of the Academy if he couldn't stop fucking up.

She'd known Winona. Known her at the Academy when they were both students, both convinced the stars were their destiny. No one had expected Winona's fate to be quite so literal. A great hero of the Federation, that one, but Pike remembered her more clearly in the bed they'd shared one summer, riding horses through the Mojave on a retreat meant to build camaraderie across class levels, riding Pike's tongue as they'd brought each other off over and over again until they could barely sit in the saddle the next day.

And now Winona's blue eyes were looking back at her; Jim was far from stupid - it had been the "genius-level" part of "genius-level repeat offender" that had caught and held her attention, after all. George had left the boys alone too long, left them with his meek and quiet second wife - as if that woman could corral Winona's feisty sons.

Maybe... Pike let herself think it, finally. It had been her first - and aborted - thought as she'd hauled Jim up off of that barroom floor. Maybe he just needed a strong, maternal hand to bring him back into line. Pike could hear Winona's throaty laugh in her mind, almost as approval. Well, she thought, at least my subconscious approves.

"Kirk, I know you're aware of what's going to happen if you can't cut out the juvenile delinquent routine." Pike stood up from her desk chair and walked, aware of the cadet's eyes on her, to the door. "Computer, lock door, code Pike-Alpha-12-17-Gamma." Those same eyes were widening as she circled back to her desk, now to lean against it directly in front of him, her black trousers still crisply creased. "And I don't think another talk about the consequences is going to do anything other than waste my time and yours."

This is it. Jim's thoughts swirled, panicked, and he considered begging. Not because he was so in love with Starfleet but because going back to Riverside... the failure burned through him. "Talking's good. Pike, Pike, you know I'm trying, you know that."

"I do. I also know my talking and your trying hasn't made a difference in the reports that keep coming across my desk." Her gesture at the paperwork was empty, meaningless. The reports weren't official, were whispers in the staff room, were messages sent to her PADD, were police reports that disappeared as a favor to her when she bailed Jim out. "I think you need a different sort of consequence for your actions. Stand up."

Pike never had to shout to command. Jim's obedience was expected, a foregone conclusion, a self-fulfilling prophecy - he understood his reaction to it even as he could not help but react. Jim stood, not at attention because she hadn't asked for that, but without letting show any hint of the panic that was knotting his stomach.

Now that she'd allowed herself to think it, she was committed to it. Her actions felt automatic, guided by desires she had rigorously denied for the sake of propriety. Trust a Kirk to override her natural inclination to do the safest thing. This was not safe. He could file a complaint, he could ruin her. Still, Pike thought, stepping forward to stand nose to nose with him, Jim Kirk has been a very bad boy. Pike stepped aside. "Bend over the desk."

"Wait, what?" She finally had his attention, independent of his own misery.

"Bend over the desk. Talk isn't making any sort of impression so I'm trying something... different." Her head tilt was more casual than she felt.

And when he obeyed, forearms wrinkling a printout of a senior student's thesis outline, Pike felt even less casual - a pulse moving from her throat, tight with anticipation, to her thighs, tensing around the sudden emptiness of her cunt. Oh. OH. This was going to be even more interesting than she had anticipated.

Jim kept his mouth shut - he had no idea what was going to come out of it. His breath huffed through his flaring nostrils, already harder, faster than his usual respiration. Nerves? The shift of his hips as he settled himself more comfortably across her desk suggested another trigger.

"If you don't want this, at any point, tell me. Say... Winona." Pike would always stop for Winnie Kirk. "Say it now so I know you understand."

He really had no idea what was going on. But he wasn't about to stop it. Not when his heart was pounding and his blood was settling low in his crotch. "Winona." It was a gasp and a whisper. He wouldn't ask her to stop. Something was catching at him, holding him in place - making him want to obey her in this the same way he tried to in everything else.

The first smack across his ass (pert, she noted even as she shifted for another blow, liquid and hot at her core already) cracked through the room. It startled him and he jerked forward hard against the unforgiving wood of her desk. He relaxed just in time for the next strike to catch him unawares, more forceful and holy shit he was jerking back against the desk as though he hadn't already tried that and found it lacking in relief even if the pressure was a boon.

One. Two. Three.

Next time, Pike thought, I should use a paddle. My hand is sore already. But it was worth it for the way he was almost writhing - and everything with this Kirk really did seem like it came down to sex because he looked like he was fucking her desk, hips thrusting forward with each blow. She didn't mind.

Four. Five. Six.

The blows were more of a surprise than anything but Jim jerked each time, caught at cross-measures to her rhythm, no time to brace for it, only time to react. Pike was strong but Jim's cadet reds muffled the spanking and her hand was not really all that big. The strikes were adding up, though, warming him through the fabric, suspending him and making him focus on what was happening, the hard length of his cock, the pressure of his tight pants, the ache of the desk when he thrust against it. George had never laid a hand on either of them; Francine had tried to make them read the Bible when they got in trouble - endless verses about the virtue of living straight and narrow. Unfortunately for Francine, Jim had never been all that straight.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

It took longer than she had expected. It had always lasted forever when Number One had spanked her after good away missions and bad but Pike had reasoned that it was a side effect of the endorphins, time slowing to let her take in every nuance of the experience. She hadn't quite anticipated how it would make her feel, stern and aroused and... possessive. This boy was not hers, never would be and, in point of truth, she didn't want him that way, as an equal partner. But he was a little bit hers now, in this way and that was... entirely acceptable, to borrow one of Number One's favorite phrases.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

She had her rhythm now. Jim was grunting every time she struck, rubbing himself against the desk - not even attempting to hide that this had not only turned him on but was pushing him higher and tighter and closer to completion. He wasn't speaking, so she lost herself to it a little bit, counting in her own head. She should have asked him to keep track - if there was a next time. She wanted there to be a next time, she'd have to make him count aloud for her.

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

The blows slowed and her hand lingered. His ass was firm. And, she decided when she ran curious fingers along the line of his hip, he was probably going commando. He was grinding now, constant pressure against the hard wood of her desk, and panting. She felt her own wetness, considered simply stopping and turning him and climbing on to ride him to her own satisfaction. But no. He needed this, specifically this and, hell, he was young. There was no greater gift to the mature woman than the recuperative powers of a man in his twenties.

Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.

He whimpered now. "Pike. Pike."

Nineteen.

She leaned forward again, right at his ear. "You may call me Mother." She stood back for the final blow.

Twenty.

Twenty and he was coming in his pants, eyes gritted closed until he could see nothing but colors, starbursts and pinpoints in the whole spectrum. That word, her voice, ricocheted through him and he rocked against the desk to prolong the sensation. "Mother." He gasped it with each slowly gentling motion of his hips until the rough - and wet - fabric of his pants was too much, too harsh, too painful and he was forced to stop, head on his forearms, breathing erratic.

Her hand was actively stinging now, the spanking probably more painful for her than for him. But she still needed to underscore this lesson, cement it in his mind more than his nerve endings. Pike leaned over his back, molding herself across his body with one hand still resting on the curve of his buttocks, so she could speak close to his ear. "What I want, Jim, is a week with no fighting, no trouble, no cadets - or civilians - experiencing panic attacks and pregnancy scares in my office - because they always come to me to look for you. Can you do that, Jim? Can you do that for your Mother?"

The sob shocked Jim - he hadn't known what was going to come out of his mouth, some form of agreement, but he'd had no inkling it was going to be that broken, childish sound. His breathing was rattling through his mouth now, hiccuping down into his lungs and back up on the exhale. He tried again and could only produce another fractured cry.

Shit, she'd made him cry. The cadet under her shook with holding it back and Pike shifted her touch, soothing motions over his bent back accompanied by meaningless murmuring in his ear. "It's okay, baby. It's okay to let it go." He slowly relaxed and she pulled him with her to sit on the floor, cradled against her - awkward with his large body but he didn't seem to mind, face against her breast, hot tears seeping - he was finally letting them fall - into the dark grey fabric of her instructor's tunic.

It took a long time. She soothed him, calming touches, physical contact, tender kisses to his forehead. Jim slowly came back to himself. And so did she. Strangely enough, with no regrets.

"Oh, fuck, I'm a mess." His laugh was still weak but it was something, it was enough. "Oh, fuck, my pants." He laughed again and leaned his face back into her breast. Her very nice breast. He was sticky and embarrassed but Jim was still Jim - he nuzzled her. If she was going to spank him and make him come in her office, well, he figured he could take certain liberties he had contemplated around his morning wood.

Oh, Jim. Pike smiled, pressed her face into his hair and hid her laugh from him. "I suppose you earned that." If she was going to spank him and make him come in her office, he could take certain liberties she hadn't allowed anyone since One went back out on the Exeter. Four more months - then shore leave on Earth in Pike's apartment. She'd have to tell One this story, in bed. The thought gave an extra lilt to her laughter.

The sound of it shivered through Jim and he turned his blue eyes up to look at her, the remnants of tears only magnifying the color and sparkle of them. "What else can I earn if I'm good, Mother?" His tone was delighted and sly. Jim was not entirely self-aware - but he knew what worked for his cock and that had worked for his cock.

It lit her belly to hear it again, to hear it voluntarily and with such humor. And his nose, rubbing precisely against her nipple, wasn't hurting either. Pike's own voice was light to match Jim's. "I'm sure I've got some gold stars around here somewhere."

Jim shifted until he was lounging against her - his back to her front, even more body contact, more than would be excusable between a professor and a cadet but certainly not too much between a mother and son. "As much as I'd love a gold star, I was thinking something a little more personal." He looked up to meet her gaze, held it. "Something a little more naked. Especially on your part."

Pike didn't hide her laugh this time. "I don't know if you've been good enough for that. Maybe you should see me in a week, pending your much improved behavior."

"I should definitely see you in a week. But -" he waved his hand at his ruined trousers - "I owe you one right now, too." If this was his reward, maybe he could do this after all. Something felt looser in his head now, something tightly wound that was starting to relax. Bones would have a field day analyzing him probably - but he couldn't tell Bones this story. Well, goddamn. Maybe later. In-space-with-Bones-as-his-CMO later.

It was tempting - Pike didn't delude herself that it wasn't. She was wet and achy and he was young and... vigorous. And he wanted to please her. It would be good. Possibly, though not probably, amazing - the kid did have a reputation. He needs incentive more than reward right now, she knew it and she had started this thing between them. "Get up." Her voice was back in command.

He blinked at her, surprised, but he got up just as she had known he would. When she pointed to the chair he had fidgeted in earlier, he sat. Pike eased to her feet and leaned, once again, against her desk in front of him. He winced as he shifted - those pants had to be cold and uncomfortable at this point - but he didn't protest.

Her fingers didn't shake as she unbuttoned her uniform pants. The instructor uniforms were her favorites, all black and grey and severe. And, honestly, Pike wasn't vain but she looked good in the military styling. Her hands were steady as she unzipped the fly. Her arms weren't quivering as she slipped her right hand down into her panties. But she did shudder when her fingers found her clit, stroked it once - this was going to go quickly.

Jim's eyes were huge, watchful and heating again, the blue both familiar and foreign. He gripped the armrests and his mouth opened a little, tongue wetting his lips in an unconscious motion.

"The only thing you owe me, Jim, is what I asked for - a week with no trouble; you owe me everything you are being devoted to getting through this program and out into space." Her index and middle finger slipped lower, slid through her own slickness as she stroked her labia. The pants were tight and she had a shit angle but canting her hips just so meant she could press inside of herself with the tip of her middle finger just enough to tease. "You owe that to your mother." She left it vague, unsure herself if she meant herself or Winona at this point.

Pike spared a brief moment to be thankful her nails were short.

There was no doubt that she had his complete attention. He wanted to fuck her, had wanted it before and wanted it even more now that he'd had some small preview. His eyes fixed on the motion of her hand, hidden by the fabric of plain black cotton panties - lace would have been incongruous, he recognized even as he considered the virtues of the stark color against the pale skin that peeked at him from her rumpled clothes. His voice snagged in his throat so he tried again. "I can do that."

Pike tipped her head back as she focused circles with the pads of her fingers over her clit, pressing more firmly now that her fingers had spread her arousal, lubricating the touch. "Stay out of trouble, Jim. Call me if you're in a situation you don't think you can get out of without a fight. Call your doctor friend - he's got more sense than you. Stop fucking around." The last was delivered on a low whine as her thighs tensed.

The armrests creaked as Jim's knuckles turned white - the edges of the wood were going to leave marks in his palms but he couldn't make himself loosen his grip, not with her throat exposed like that, long and arched like it was made for a mouth. "Yes, Mother." The affirmation was drawn out, pained.

The edge of orgasm was right there. Pike forced her eyes back open - (when had they closed? she wasn't sure) heavy-lidded and panting as she brought herself even closer - and watched him. Jim was near-frozen, the only motion his chest with its heaving breaths. She couldn't tell if he was hard again, but it didn't really matter. Still the thought of it was the impetus she needed, that and just enough more pressure from the fingertip resting directly on her clit.

Jim held his breath when Pike came, but in his head he was chanting: Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother. Her eyes closed - he didn't think she was even aware of it - squeezed closed in a way that wrinkled her nose like she was concentrating on the feeling that had to be expanding from between her thighs until it took her over all over. It was better than his imagination had been that morning. Her mouth was open around sucking inhalations, great gasps of air that were moaned out on the exhale. He bit his lip, the small pain necessary so he wouldn't go to her, carry her down to the floor under his own weight; so that he would mind what she said and behave and be a good boy - and when had he ever thought in those terms? Since it started being the hottest fucking thing going, he thought.

There was a certain languor associated with a good orgasm, Pike thought through the haze as her body relaxed, one muscle group at a time. And there was a certain power in the way Jim Kirk looked right now, too - wrecked still, but not the wreck of a cadet he'd been when he'd come to her office. She stirred herself, withdrew the hand that had been petting through the hair on her pubic mound, and leaned forward to kiss him, soft and brief and chaste, on the mouth. It was less than chaste when she brought her still-wet fingers up under his nose so he could smell her. "Behave, Jim. And in a week, I might let you have a taste."

Jim closed his eyes, inhaled the scent - he was going to dwell on this, extensively. "Yes, ma'am."

Pike nodded, straightened, moved back to her side of the desk - her proper place at the desk. "Computer, unlock door, code Pike-Alpha-12." She needed to clean up - to at least change her underwear, maybe her pants. Otherwise she was going to smell her own arousal for the rest of the day and worry that other people could, too. Not really the professional image she'd spent so much time crafting. "Get out of here, Kirk. And stay out of trouble. I have enough paperwork to do." She was all captain, all professor, all distance again.

It startled him a little that she could switch back to that role so quickly. But, then, she had never really given up the authority of it, had she? Jim shook his head at himself and draped his jacket over his arm - if he held it just right, he could disguise the situation with his trousers, at least until he got back to his room. He paused by the door and offered her a salute, then turned before she could scold him for his foolishness.

When the door closed behind him, Pike put her head down on her desk, her forehead wrinkling the same printout that had been creased to hell by Jim's forearms when he'd bent over for his spanking. It was going to be a long week. And she could already hear Winona laughing at her. It felt good.