James T. Kirk

Keenser went easily, allowing himself to be pulled back around to Scott's side, and leaned into the other man. Leaving Kirk to his work, Keenser's hand drifted upwards. His hand stroked gentle, meandering trails over the soft flesh of Scott's belly. "How do you want it, Scott?" Keenser asked, voice low and rough in Scott's other ear. "You want it like Jim said? You want his mouth on you while you touch me?" He let the blunt tips of his claws drag across Scott's belly in a whisper-soft rasp, dipping just below his waistband. "Talk to me, Scott." he murmured, and pressed his tongue briefly to the hollow beneath Scott's ear. "Tell me what you want."