FIC: So Close and Yet... [Star Trek XI]
Jun. 12th, 2009 10:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darktrent182TITLE: So Close and Yet...
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek XI doesn't belong to me – the universe belongs to Gene Roddenberry and so many people that if they were all to sue me, various descendants would be in debt up to their eyeballs. Written for entertainment purposes, no money made, please don't sue, yadda.
FANDOM: Star Trek XI
PAIRING: Scotty/Chekov
WORD COUNT: 3,720
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: This. Is. Porn.
SUMMARY: A creative solution to not being able to see each other.
CHALLENGE: Written for the Star Trek Kink Meme, because I'm a sheep.
PROMPT: Click here for details.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Unbeta'd liek woah.
***
He shouldn't have done it, really.
Scotty knew that he might be needed in Engineering, but Miller and Thompson were good men (yes, Thompson wasn't a man, but she was still reliable). There weren't any emergencies on the horizon, and the severe damage from their last brush with Klingon warbirds was well on its way to being fixed.
It hadn't helped his sex life, though.
The few times that Chekov had made a ship-wide announcement from the bridge had been the only times when he saw Chekov face-to-face over the past few weeks, due to the repairs he'd had to supervise. Working with a new crew was always a pain in the arse because it took time to get used to everyone's rhythms, and for them to fall into a cohesive unit that worked well under pressure and could pull miracles out of their collective arses whenever the Captain said to do so. Still, it was an unfortunate fact of life that whenever someone from Engineering beamed down in an away team, they usually didn't come back, and as a result, the Enterprise kept having to get more engineers to fill the gaps, and the process would start again.
Scotty nodded to a few crewmen as he headed out of Engineering, reaching inside his pocket again for the data storage unit that one of the bridge crew had passed to him, saying it was from Chekov about some equations they'd been working on together before the Klingons started giving everyone headaches.
Seeing as how Scotty knew for a fact that they hadn't had anything to argue over except for whether or not Engineering was off-limits for sex (Chekov was for it, which rather surprised Scotty, but Scotty didn't want to risk getting stuck naked in a Jefferies tube and having to get some poor ensign to grease them out. Those damn things were narrow.), Scotty had no idea what he was holding in his hand, except that it was a smaller type of unit, black with a few stylistic designs and a few scuff marks that said louder than anything else that this was Chekov's, and not one from the ship's supplies.
Scotty made it to his quarters, sitting down at his personal computer and plugging in the storage unit. After a few moments, a new window popped up, revealing Chekov in a darkened room, his face lit by the glow of blue lights.
"Mister Scott," Chekov began, his voice as neutral as any ship-wide broadcast. "I have been going over your calculations concerning the transportation of high-welocity matter in a short time frame. Included in this unit are my own calculations, corrections, and suggestions about your theory. I look forward to a response when you are next awailable." The Chekov on the screen paused for a moment, and then winked solemnly before the screen closed.
Scotty blinked. "But we already went through those," he muttered to himself. Frowning, he opened up the directory to look at the contents of the storage unit, and found only one other file. Another recording, instead of text, labeled simply, 'YLT'.
Scotty tried to open it, only to be confronted with a prompt demanding a password in glowing red letters. Nonplussed, he narrowed his eyes and tried the file name. Which... didn't work. Sitting back in his chair, he found himself smiling. There was something on this thing not meant for public consumption.
He tried 'high-velocity matter', a few variations of that phrase, variations on 'calculations, corrections, and suggestions', a few of their own in-jokes, and after five minutes of getting the same error message, Scotty glared at his computer.
"If you were going to make a secret message for me," he muttered to an absent Chekov, "you could've made the password something easier."
In a fit of peevishness, he tapped his commlink. "Scotty to Ensign Chekov."
"Ensign Chekov, here, sir," Chekov chirped. "How can I help you?"
"Well, you can tell me what this bloody password's supposed to be, for starters," Scotty muttered. "I've not cracked it, and I'm wondering if the security's all that necessary."
There was a telling silence, and Chekov coughed a little. "Some of those equations come from sources that would rather not be talked about, sir."
Scotty snorted. If Chekov had known people like that, he could've gotten himself into a lot more trouble in the Academy than he actually had. "All right, then. A hint about the password, if you please?"
"How did you feel when you were on Delta Vega?"
"Wait, come again?" Scotty asked, frowning in confusion.
Chekov repeated the question, and added, "It is one word, less than seven letters. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed on the bridge."
The commlink clicked off, leaving Scotty to stare at his computer.
He tried 'hungry'. The computer bleeped a negative.
'Starving' was two letters too long, and resulted in another bleep, and pretty soon, Scotty was beginning to think his computer was cursing at him.
It was only on a whim that he tried 'lonely', and the computer chirped an affirmative before opening another window.
"Well," Scotty said, smiling, "what do you know?"
This window was practically a copy of the one before -- Chekov sitting in a dark room, lit only by the blue lights on his cheeks.
"Hello, Scotty," Chekov murmured, his voice far less formal and far more what Scotty was used to hearing in the mornings after they'd spent the night together. "I... I am not sure what to say."
The recorded Chekov cleared his throat. "Ship-wide broadcasts are one thing, but this...?" He shook his head, smiling sheepishly. "I guess I will muddle through this somehow, and hope you respect me when we see each other again."
He lifted his gaze, staring at the camera head-on. "I... miss you. Yes, I know we are on same ship, only a few decks away, but not seeing you, not hearing your voice... it is difficult."
"Oh, Pavel," Scotty murmured, resting his chin in one hand as he kept watching.
"I was hoping to make this a present, something you could look at when you were lonely," Chekov explained with a shrug, "but your birthday is already passed, so it is late. But... maybe you will make one for me?"
Scotty frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
Chekov smiled a little, ducking his head for a moment before looking up at Scotty through his eyelashes. "You will see," he purred, as if he were the one actually answering Scotty's question instead of being a recording. "Enjoy."
The window went black, and it was the same camera, though a different view. The room was dimly-lit, just the right dimness Scotty liked when they were taking their time with things. Chekov's bed was front and center, far enough to let Scotty see the whole thing, but close enough that he wouldn't have to squint.
Chekov stepped into frame with his back to the camera, wearing his regular uniform. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled.
"Since I cannot be with you in person, I was thinking that maybe I could keep you company this way," he said by way of explanation. "But first, I need to get ready, yes?"
He turned away from the camera, rolling his shoulders, and then his head and neck, taking his time in working out the kinks as though he had all the time in the world. He turned to face the camera, hands grabbing the gold shirt and pulling it slowly upwards, a flash of pale skin bared when the black undershirt rode up. When it was off, Chekov carelessly dropped it on the floor, looking over his shoulder at Scotty to dare him to pick it up.
Scotty's mouth went dry. He'd had his suspicions when he saw the bed first thing, but now he was positive.
Chekov had made him a sex tape.
"Is wery hot in here," Chekov said, his words conversational, but the tone feeling like a caress on Scotty's skin. "How are you feeling?"
Scotty cleared his throat, but didn't reply. His eyes were starting to itch from the need to blink. The trouble was, if he blinked, he might miss Pavel Chekov, Sex God.
Chekov turned around, leaning over to get closer to the screen. "Maybe you should get comfortable," he purred. "This may take a while."
Scotty didn't need to be told twice. He shifted in his chair, settling himself back to enjoy the show.
Chekov tilted his head just a little, looking shy and coy and so devious as he gave Scotty a wicked smile. "There are things I've wanted to say to you, Scotty."
"Things?" Scotty asked, finding himself a bit curious. Chekov held his own during a debate and in regular conversation, sure, but considering what he was doing, Scotty found himself even more intrigued. Chekov didn't say much in bed except for apologizing whenever he knocked something over, or whenever he liked something Scotty was doing.
Long fingers reached up to the undershirt's zipper, the black fabric parting as the teeth separated. "The next time you see me, I want you to pin me against a wall."
Scotty's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
The pale hand reached the bottom of the shirt, and the fabric slid off, revealing a slender chest with a light sprinkling of blond-brown hair. When the arms were free, the hands returned to Chekov's chest, fingertips lightly touching. "I want to know every time that you've seen this. That you've watched me touch myself, wishing it was you."
Scotty watched the fingers trace lines and curves, circling around nipples until they hardened, and then trailing down to a smooth stomach. The fingers made their way to the waistband of the Starfleet-regulation trousers, toying with the clasp idly, as if they had no idea how much they were driving Scotty crazy.
"I love your hands," Chekov sighed, and Scotty's eyes looked back at his face, watching the Russian's eyes slip closed, his lips parted in a soft sigh.
"Strong..." One hand reached over to grasp a hip. "Nimble..." Fingers flicked across the skin of his stomach, teasing and light. "Responsive..."
He let go of his hip, his hand moving slowly until his index finger reached his lips. He leaned in, a flicker of teeth nibbling on the tip before his lips wrapped around the digit, his expression yearning.
Scotty licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, his hand straying to the zip of his trousers and easing it down. Wouldn't do to be too hasty, would it?
Chekov opened his eyes to aim a sultry look at him before licking once at his finger. "Should I suck my finger, Scotty? Should I imagine you watching me with those beautiful eyes?" He nibbled at it lightly before looking at the camera.
"Or should I move?"
He dropped his finger from his lips, causing Scotty to groan out loud at the loss, and as Scotty watched, Chekov stroked his hands down his chest, pinching a nipple lightly, circling around his navel.
"Scotty," he whispered, "I'm so hard...." One hand stopped toying with the trouser fly, moving downward. The heel of his palm against the tent in his trousers made both the bright blue eyes slip closed as he shuddered and moaned.
Scotty wasn't far behind, mirroring the recording's action, wanting to throw his head back but not wanting to miss a second of this.
"God, I want you," Chekov whispered heatedly. "I want so much. To feel you pin me against a wall so that I can't move, your kisses making my head spin from lack of air..." He backed up, unsteady on his feet, until he hit the edge of the bed, and when he did, he jumped a little, sitting down a bit gracelessly. He bit his lip and muttered something vicious in Russian before looking up at the camera again. "I'll edit that part," he muttered.
Scotty laughed out loud. "Oops."
The window continued uninterrupted, Chekov reaching for the trousers' zipper and dragging it down as slowly as he could.
Scotty could see his hands shaking, wanting to pull it down faster, to get his trousers and underwear off and be done with them, but this was a strip tease, and a damn good one. "I want to feel you undress me," Chekov murmured, undoing the clasp and parting the fabric. "It always feel so good when you do it."
Scotty opened his trousers as well, rubbing his hand over his trapped erection lazily.
"You asked me once, what one of my fantasies was," Chekov murmured. "It is you... seducing me." His eyes shied away from the camera, away from Scotty, but he stood up to hook his thumbs into his trousers, dragging both them and his underwear down, freeing his hard-on. As the cloth dropped to the floor, he shuddered and sighed, one hand cradling himself and stroking once or twice before he opened his eyes to look into the camera again.
"You would undress me, so slowly, touching me and asking me what feels good," he purred, fingers trailing down a thigh, the other hand lightly curved around himself, the thumb flicking against the head. He shuddered, blue eyes slipping shut. "You would purr into my ear, tell me how handsome I look, and grope me when I was too distracted."
Chekov jumped a little as the hand on his thigh had traveled around to his backside and had apparently squeezed. When he opened his eyes again, he was sheepishly smiling. "You told me once that you would stop if I ever stopped enjoying it, but I don't want you to stop."
There was movement as Chekov kicked his trousers and underwear away, and he sat on the bed. It was obvious that he was trying to make it look sexy, but he didn't quite manage, and he sighed explosively, looking annoyed and edible and adorable all in the same breath.
"I don't know how people make sitting on a bed look sexy," he muttered. He laid down across the bed, facing the camera, his left arm propping himself up as his right rested along his side. "I shall have to edit here too." He paused for a moment, and looked up at the ceiling curiously. "I wonder..."
"What is it?" Scotty asked, smiling a bit at watching Pavel Chekov lay on the bed, eying the ceiling, instead of some supermodel who knew how to move. He'd take a lover he knew well over any cover girl any day of the week.
Chekov rolled to lay on his back on the bed, his arms held up above him, his hands flat as though envisioning something on the ceiling. "If I could mount camera here, it would be good angle for watching." He glanced over at the camera and grinned. "I should mount camera here and record us having sex."
Scotty had trouble swallowing. The hand rubbing against him had now slipped inside of his underwear of its own accord and was squeezing the taut flesh.
"If I were to top, and you were on your back," Chekov continued along conversationally before realizing that he was supposed to be making a sex video, "I would get to see your face when you come. I could save it on a disc and play it back anytime you are not here." He smirked, rubbing one hand across his stomach while the other returned to lightly stroking his erection. "Is good idea."
"Then again," Chekov said slowly, "if you were to top, I would get to see the muscles in your back as you fucked me."
Scotty's hand squeezed firmly, trying to hold back from coming from the mental image alone. Chekov wasn't helping.
"Mmm, da," he half-growled. "The next time I get you alone, you will fuck me, yes? Do not take your time. I want to feel it for days afterwards." He sat up suddenly and glared at the camera. "But I do not blush on bridge security feed. That is dirty lie."
Scotty stared at the screen for a second before laughing out loud. He'd checked the security feed himself after one night when they'd been particularly... rigorous. Despite what Chekov said, the first time the navigator had sat down, he'd turned a lovely shade of red and tried to find a comfortable angle to sit. Kirk had even asked if he was all right, and it was hilarious to watch him babble that he was fine, thank you.
Chekov seemed to think the threat was enough, as he laid back down again, his lips pursed. "I wish I could know what you are thinking as you watch this. Are you touching yourself?" He laid his head down, resting it on his folded left arm. "Are you pretending that I am there, touching you?"
"Do you really have to ask, lad?" Scotty asked him quietly.
The young man on the video feed considered the camera for a second before springing up from the bed. "Ah! Have perfect idea! Wait here--" He disappeared offscreen, and after what sounded like actual rummaging through things, Chekov reappeared with a tube and a flesh-colored dildo, which looked about the same size as Scotty himself.
There were things he was learning about Chekov left and right, and Scotty didn't mind one bit.
"Another present," Chekov said apologetically, his cheeks turning red. "I was hoping you would use this on me while I sucked you, but there never seems to be a good time to bring it up in conwersation."
Scotty squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to imagine Chekov's mouth on him, making those delicious moans that he usually made when Scotty was balls-deep inside of him. When he opened his eyes to look at his computer screen, Chekov was smirking.
"Now that I have your attention," he murmured, "I will put this to good use."
Scotty watched as Chekov laid back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as he uncapped the tube and spread some clear lubricant on his hands, slicking it between his fingers. He glanced at Scotty, smirking a little as he reached between his legs. He shifted a bit, looking a little annoyed as he tried to find a good position, and looked at the camera again, gauging distance.
"Can you see--" Chekov started to ask, and then he rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "Why am I asking-- you cannot answer." He kept muttering about editing while Scotty himself grinned at the sight, and finally, he managed to lay half on his side and back.
"This is more work than I thought," he muttered. "Am trying to be sexy, and I have to worry about camera angles and--" He gasped, the fingers of one hand disappearing past his balls to enter him. Chekov had been rather responsive down there, Scotty had been pleased to learn the first time they'd had sex.
"Scotty," Chekov growled, biting his lower lip and whimpering a little. "This... feels so good..."
Scotty couldn't agree more, the way Chekov twisted and moaned as he prepared himself. The next time they were having sex, he was going to make Chekov prepare himself, just to be able to watch this again with sweat and moans and the smell of sex in the air.
He watched the young man buck and writhe, glimpses of fingers inside of him before Chekov deliberately stopped himself, pulling out his fingers and collapsing on the bed.
"What'd you go and do that for?" Scotty demanded. "I was watching that!"
Chekov didn't answer, his chest lifting as he sucked in deep breaths. He picked up the dildo, and glanced at the camera as if suddenly remembering that he had an audience. "Sorry." He gave the tip of the dildo a long, apologetic lick before kissing the crown and smearing lubricant on it. "Is better to have you here. You could whisper in my ear about how much you want to bend me over a console and fuck me until I can't remember my name."
That was certainly an idea. Scotty idly considered taking notes.
Chekov examined the dildo, making sure the lubricant was spread evenly. His breath hitched in a laugh before he explained, "If this were you, you would have taken my hand away by now and kissed me." He turned back to the camera, to Scotty. "I need you to kiss me. Let me taste those lips for hours. I could tie you down, just to kiss your lips as long as I want."
Scotty gave himself a good, long pull, imagining Chekov kissing and nibbling at his lips. Motion on the screen caught his eye, and he saw Chekov position the dildo into place and slide it in, the young man's blue eyes widening as he did so.
"Slowly, now," Scotty murmured, his hand stroking up and down his erection. "Slowly."
Chekov wasn't following orders, inserting the dildo inside of him. When it seemed to be fully inside, he shivered.
"Scotty," he moaned breathlessly. He bit his lower lip and wriggled. "Scotty--"
"I'm here, Pavel," Scotty whispered, his hand moving faster and faster. "I'm here."
"Please," Chekov whimpered, his back arching as he screwed himself with the dildo.
Scotty knew the instant that the dildo hit Chekov's prostate, the way the blue eyes widened, the loud gasp, the stiffening body.
"God!" Chekov moaned, twisting and moving the dildo in and out, hitting that spot again and again. His eyes slammed shut, and he cursed loudly in Russian. Scotty could see the sweat standing out on his brow, how hard Pavel was gritting his teeth against the pleasure.
"Come for me," Chekov whispered. "Please."
One last time, and Chekov threw his head back, shouting once as white splashes landed on his stomach and the bedspread.
That was the last Scotty saw before his orgasm hit him, hard and fast like a bar brawl. He stroked faster, working the flesh until there was nothing left to give, and when he came back to himself, his monitor had been striped with sperm, and Chekov was lazily grinning at him, using his clean hand to lick the fluid from his body.
Scotty shuddered and leaned back hard against his chair.
"Da svidaniya," Chekov purred, rolling onto his front and resting his chin on his forearm. "I love you."
And then the window closed.
Scotty sat staring at his computer monitor, the white stripes standing out clear against the blue background of his desktop.
He concentrated on getting his breath back, and when he did, he closed his eyes and let himself feel the endorphins in his skin, the smell of sex in the air.
When he was able to think coherently, as well as move, he got out of his chair and went to find Chekov.
After all, he did owe the man a kiss against a wall.
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek XI doesn't belong to me – the universe belongs to Gene Roddenberry and so many people that if they were all to sue me, various descendants would be in debt up to their eyeballs. Written for entertainment purposes, no money made, please don't sue, yadda.
FANDOM: Star Trek XI
PAIRING: Scotty/Chekov
WORD COUNT: 3,720
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: This. Is. Porn.
SUMMARY: A creative solution to not being able to see each other.
CHALLENGE: Written for the Star Trek Kink Meme, because I'm a sheep.
PROMPT: Click here for details.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Unbeta'd liek woah.
***
He shouldn't have done it, really.
Scotty knew that he might be needed in Engineering, but Miller and Thompson were good men (yes, Thompson wasn't a man, but she was still reliable). There weren't any emergencies on the horizon, and the severe damage from their last brush with Klingon warbirds was well on its way to being fixed.
It hadn't helped his sex life, though.
The few times that Chekov had made a ship-wide announcement from the bridge had been the only times when he saw Chekov face-to-face over the past few weeks, due to the repairs he'd had to supervise. Working with a new crew was always a pain in the arse because it took time to get used to everyone's rhythms, and for them to fall into a cohesive unit that worked well under pressure and could pull miracles out of their collective arses whenever the Captain said to do so. Still, it was an unfortunate fact of life that whenever someone from Engineering beamed down in an away team, they usually didn't come back, and as a result, the Enterprise kept having to get more engineers to fill the gaps, and the process would start again.
Scotty nodded to a few crewmen as he headed out of Engineering, reaching inside his pocket again for the data storage unit that one of the bridge crew had passed to him, saying it was from Chekov about some equations they'd been working on together before the Klingons started giving everyone headaches.
Seeing as how Scotty knew for a fact that they hadn't had anything to argue over except for whether or not Engineering was off-limits for sex (Chekov was for it, which rather surprised Scotty, but Scotty didn't want to risk getting stuck naked in a Jefferies tube and having to get some poor ensign to grease them out. Those damn things were narrow.), Scotty had no idea what he was holding in his hand, except that it was a smaller type of unit, black with a few stylistic designs and a few scuff marks that said louder than anything else that this was Chekov's, and not one from the ship's supplies.
Scotty made it to his quarters, sitting down at his personal computer and plugging in the storage unit. After a few moments, a new window popped up, revealing Chekov in a darkened room, his face lit by the glow of blue lights.
"Mister Scott," Chekov began, his voice as neutral as any ship-wide broadcast. "I have been going over your calculations concerning the transportation of high-welocity matter in a short time frame. Included in this unit are my own calculations, corrections, and suggestions about your theory. I look forward to a response when you are next awailable." The Chekov on the screen paused for a moment, and then winked solemnly before the screen closed.
Scotty blinked. "But we already went through those," he muttered to himself. Frowning, he opened up the directory to look at the contents of the storage unit, and found only one other file. Another recording, instead of text, labeled simply, 'YLT'.
Scotty tried to open it, only to be confronted with a prompt demanding a password in glowing red letters. Nonplussed, he narrowed his eyes and tried the file name. Which... didn't work. Sitting back in his chair, he found himself smiling. There was something on this thing not meant for public consumption.
He tried 'high-velocity matter', a few variations of that phrase, variations on 'calculations, corrections, and suggestions', a few of their own in-jokes, and after five minutes of getting the same error message, Scotty glared at his computer.
"If you were going to make a secret message for me," he muttered to an absent Chekov, "you could've made the password something easier."
In a fit of peevishness, he tapped his commlink. "Scotty to Ensign Chekov."
"Ensign Chekov, here, sir," Chekov chirped. "How can I help you?"
"Well, you can tell me what this bloody password's supposed to be, for starters," Scotty muttered. "I've not cracked it, and I'm wondering if the security's all that necessary."
There was a telling silence, and Chekov coughed a little. "Some of those equations come from sources that would rather not be talked about, sir."
Scotty snorted. If Chekov had known people like that, he could've gotten himself into a lot more trouble in the Academy than he actually had. "All right, then. A hint about the password, if you please?"
"How did you feel when you were on Delta Vega?"
"Wait, come again?" Scotty asked, frowning in confusion.
Chekov repeated the question, and added, "It is one word, less than seven letters. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed on the bridge."
The commlink clicked off, leaving Scotty to stare at his computer.
He tried 'hungry'. The computer bleeped a negative.
'Starving' was two letters too long, and resulted in another bleep, and pretty soon, Scotty was beginning to think his computer was cursing at him.
It was only on a whim that he tried 'lonely', and the computer chirped an affirmative before opening another window.
"Well," Scotty said, smiling, "what do you know?"
This window was practically a copy of the one before -- Chekov sitting in a dark room, lit only by the blue lights on his cheeks.
"Hello, Scotty," Chekov murmured, his voice far less formal and far more what Scotty was used to hearing in the mornings after they'd spent the night together. "I... I am not sure what to say."
The recorded Chekov cleared his throat. "Ship-wide broadcasts are one thing, but this...?" He shook his head, smiling sheepishly. "I guess I will muddle through this somehow, and hope you respect me when we see each other again."
He lifted his gaze, staring at the camera head-on. "I... miss you. Yes, I know we are on same ship, only a few decks away, but not seeing you, not hearing your voice... it is difficult."
"Oh, Pavel," Scotty murmured, resting his chin in one hand as he kept watching.
"I was hoping to make this a present, something you could look at when you were lonely," Chekov explained with a shrug, "but your birthday is already passed, so it is late. But... maybe you will make one for me?"
Scotty frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
Chekov smiled a little, ducking his head for a moment before looking up at Scotty through his eyelashes. "You will see," he purred, as if he were the one actually answering Scotty's question instead of being a recording. "Enjoy."
The window went black, and it was the same camera, though a different view. The room was dimly-lit, just the right dimness Scotty liked when they were taking their time with things. Chekov's bed was front and center, far enough to let Scotty see the whole thing, but close enough that he wouldn't have to squint.
Chekov stepped into frame with his back to the camera, wearing his regular uniform. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled.
"Since I cannot be with you in person, I was thinking that maybe I could keep you company this way," he said by way of explanation. "But first, I need to get ready, yes?"
He turned away from the camera, rolling his shoulders, and then his head and neck, taking his time in working out the kinks as though he had all the time in the world. He turned to face the camera, hands grabbing the gold shirt and pulling it slowly upwards, a flash of pale skin bared when the black undershirt rode up. When it was off, Chekov carelessly dropped it on the floor, looking over his shoulder at Scotty to dare him to pick it up.
Scotty's mouth went dry. He'd had his suspicions when he saw the bed first thing, but now he was positive.
Chekov had made him a sex tape.
"Is wery hot in here," Chekov said, his words conversational, but the tone feeling like a caress on Scotty's skin. "How are you feeling?"
Scotty cleared his throat, but didn't reply. His eyes were starting to itch from the need to blink. The trouble was, if he blinked, he might miss Pavel Chekov, Sex God.
Chekov turned around, leaning over to get closer to the screen. "Maybe you should get comfortable," he purred. "This may take a while."
Scotty didn't need to be told twice. He shifted in his chair, settling himself back to enjoy the show.
Chekov tilted his head just a little, looking shy and coy and so devious as he gave Scotty a wicked smile. "There are things I've wanted to say to you, Scotty."
"Things?" Scotty asked, finding himself a bit curious. Chekov held his own during a debate and in regular conversation, sure, but considering what he was doing, Scotty found himself even more intrigued. Chekov didn't say much in bed except for apologizing whenever he knocked something over, or whenever he liked something Scotty was doing.
Long fingers reached up to the undershirt's zipper, the black fabric parting as the teeth separated. "The next time you see me, I want you to pin me against a wall."
Scotty's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
The pale hand reached the bottom of the shirt, and the fabric slid off, revealing a slender chest with a light sprinkling of blond-brown hair. When the arms were free, the hands returned to Chekov's chest, fingertips lightly touching. "I want to know every time that you've seen this. That you've watched me touch myself, wishing it was you."
Scotty watched the fingers trace lines and curves, circling around nipples until they hardened, and then trailing down to a smooth stomach. The fingers made their way to the waistband of the Starfleet-regulation trousers, toying with the clasp idly, as if they had no idea how much they were driving Scotty crazy.
"I love your hands," Chekov sighed, and Scotty's eyes looked back at his face, watching the Russian's eyes slip closed, his lips parted in a soft sigh.
"Strong..." One hand reached over to grasp a hip. "Nimble..." Fingers flicked across the skin of his stomach, teasing and light. "Responsive..."
He let go of his hip, his hand moving slowly until his index finger reached his lips. He leaned in, a flicker of teeth nibbling on the tip before his lips wrapped around the digit, his expression yearning.
Scotty licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, his hand straying to the zip of his trousers and easing it down. Wouldn't do to be too hasty, would it?
Chekov opened his eyes to aim a sultry look at him before licking once at his finger. "Should I suck my finger, Scotty? Should I imagine you watching me with those beautiful eyes?" He nibbled at it lightly before looking at the camera.
"Or should I move?"
He dropped his finger from his lips, causing Scotty to groan out loud at the loss, and as Scotty watched, Chekov stroked his hands down his chest, pinching a nipple lightly, circling around his navel.
"Scotty," he whispered, "I'm so hard...." One hand stopped toying with the trouser fly, moving downward. The heel of his palm against the tent in his trousers made both the bright blue eyes slip closed as he shuddered and moaned.
Scotty wasn't far behind, mirroring the recording's action, wanting to throw his head back but not wanting to miss a second of this.
"God, I want you," Chekov whispered heatedly. "I want so much. To feel you pin me against a wall so that I can't move, your kisses making my head spin from lack of air..." He backed up, unsteady on his feet, until he hit the edge of the bed, and when he did, he jumped a little, sitting down a bit gracelessly. He bit his lip and muttered something vicious in Russian before looking up at the camera again. "I'll edit that part," he muttered.
Scotty laughed out loud. "Oops."
The window continued uninterrupted, Chekov reaching for the trousers' zipper and dragging it down as slowly as he could.
Scotty could see his hands shaking, wanting to pull it down faster, to get his trousers and underwear off and be done with them, but this was a strip tease, and a damn good one. "I want to feel you undress me," Chekov murmured, undoing the clasp and parting the fabric. "It always feel so good when you do it."
Scotty opened his trousers as well, rubbing his hand over his trapped erection lazily.
"You asked me once, what one of my fantasies was," Chekov murmured. "It is you... seducing me." His eyes shied away from the camera, away from Scotty, but he stood up to hook his thumbs into his trousers, dragging both them and his underwear down, freeing his hard-on. As the cloth dropped to the floor, he shuddered and sighed, one hand cradling himself and stroking once or twice before he opened his eyes to look into the camera again.
"You would undress me, so slowly, touching me and asking me what feels good," he purred, fingers trailing down a thigh, the other hand lightly curved around himself, the thumb flicking against the head. He shuddered, blue eyes slipping shut. "You would purr into my ear, tell me how handsome I look, and grope me when I was too distracted."
Chekov jumped a little as the hand on his thigh had traveled around to his backside and had apparently squeezed. When he opened his eyes again, he was sheepishly smiling. "You told me once that you would stop if I ever stopped enjoying it, but I don't want you to stop."
There was movement as Chekov kicked his trousers and underwear away, and he sat on the bed. It was obvious that he was trying to make it look sexy, but he didn't quite manage, and he sighed explosively, looking annoyed and edible and adorable all in the same breath.
"I don't know how people make sitting on a bed look sexy," he muttered. He laid down across the bed, facing the camera, his left arm propping himself up as his right rested along his side. "I shall have to edit here too." He paused for a moment, and looked up at the ceiling curiously. "I wonder..."
"What is it?" Scotty asked, smiling a bit at watching Pavel Chekov lay on the bed, eying the ceiling, instead of some supermodel who knew how to move. He'd take a lover he knew well over any cover girl any day of the week.
Chekov rolled to lay on his back on the bed, his arms held up above him, his hands flat as though envisioning something on the ceiling. "If I could mount camera here, it would be good angle for watching." He glanced over at the camera and grinned. "I should mount camera here and record us having sex."
Scotty had trouble swallowing. The hand rubbing against him had now slipped inside of his underwear of its own accord and was squeezing the taut flesh.
"If I were to top, and you were on your back," Chekov continued along conversationally before realizing that he was supposed to be making a sex video, "I would get to see your face when you come. I could save it on a disc and play it back anytime you are not here." He smirked, rubbing one hand across his stomach while the other returned to lightly stroking his erection. "Is good idea."
"Then again," Chekov said slowly, "if you were to top, I would get to see the muscles in your back as you fucked me."
Scotty's hand squeezed firmly, trying to hold back from coming from the mental image alone. Chekov wasn't helping.
"Mmm, da," he half-growled. "The next time I get you alone, you will fuck me, yes? Do not take your time. I want to feel it for days afterwards." He sat up suddenly and glared at the camera. "But I do not blush on bridge security feed. That is dirty lie."
Scotty stared at the screen for a second before laughing out loud. He'd checked the security feed himself after one night when they'd been particularly... rigorous. Despite what Chekov said, the first time the navigator had sat down, he'd turned a lovely shade of red and tried to find a comfortable angle to sit. Kirk had even asked if he was all right, and it was hilarious to watch him babble that he was fine, thank you.
Chekov seemed to think the threat was enough, as he laid back down again, his lips pursed. "I wish I could know what you are thinking as you watch this. Are you touching yourself?" He laid his head down, resting it on his folded left arm. "Are you pretending that I am there, touching you?"
"Do you really have to ask, lad?" Scotty asked him quietly.
The young man on the video feed considered the camera for a second before springing up from the bed. "Ah! Have perfect idea! Wait here--" He disappeared offscreen, and after what sounded like actual rummaging through things, Chekov reappeared with a tube and a flesh-colored dildo, which looked about the same size as Scotty himself.
There were things he was learning about Chekov left and right, and Scotty didn't mind one bit.
"Another present," Chekov said apologetically, his cheeks turning red. "I was hoping you would use this on me while I sucked you, but there never seems to be a good time to bring it up in conwersation."
Scotty squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to imagine Chekov's mouth on him, making those delicious moans that he usually made when Scotty was balls-deep inside of him. When he opened his eyes to look at his computer screen, Chekov was smirking.
"Now that I have your attention," he murmured, "I will put this to good use."
Scotty watched as Chekov laid back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as he uncapped the tube and spread some clear lubricant on his hands, slicking it between his fingers. He glanced at Scotty, smirking a little as he reached between his legs. He shifted a bit, looking a little annoyed as he tried to find a good position, and looked at the camera again, gauging distance.
"Can you see--" Chekov started to ask, and then he rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "Why am I asking-- you cannot answer." He kept muttering about editing while Scotty himself grinned at the sight, and finally, he managed to lay half on his side and back.
"This is more work than I thought," he muttered. "Am trying to be sexy, and I have to worry about camera angles and--" He gasped, the fingers of one hand disappearing past his balls to enter him. Chekov had been rather responsive down there, Scotty had been pleased to learn the first time they'd had sex.
"Scotty," Chekov growled, biting his lower lip and whimpering a little. "This... feels so good..."
Scotty couldn't agree more, the way Chekov twisted and moaned as he prepared himself. The next time they were having sex, he was going to make Chekov prepare himself, just to be able to watch this again with sweat and moans and the smell of sex in the air.
He watched the young man buck and writhe, glimpses of fingers inside of him before Chekov deliberately stopped himself, pulling out his fingers and collapsing on the bed.
"What'd you go and do that for?" Scotty demanded. "I was watching that!"
Chekov didn't answer, his chest lifting as he sucked in deep breaths. He picked up the dildo, and glanced at the camera as if suddenly remembering that he had an audience. "Sorry." He gave the tip of the dildo a long, apologetic lick before kissing the crown and smearing lubricant on it. "Is better to have you here. You could whisper in my ear about how much you want to bend me over a console and fuck me until I can't remember my name."
That was certainly an idea. Scotty idly considered taking notes.
Chekov examined the dildo, making sure the lubricant was spread evenly. His breath hitched in a laugh before he explained, "If this were you, you would have taken my hand away by now and kissed me." He turned back to the camera, to Scotty. "I need you to kiss me. Let me taste those lips for hours. I could tie you down, just to kiss your lips as long as I want."
Scotty gave himself a good, long pull, imagining Chekov kissing and nibbling at his lips. Motion on the screen caught his eye, and he saw Chekov position the dildo into place and slide it in, the young man's blue eyes widening as he did so.
"Slowly, now," Scotty murmured, his hand stroking up and down his erection. "Slowly."
Chekov wasn't following orders, inserting the dildo inside of him. When it seemed to be fully inside, he shivered.
"Scotty," he moaned breathlessly. He bit his lower lip and wriggled. "Scotty--"
"I'm here, Pavel," Scotty whispered, his hand moving faster and faster. "I'm here."
"Please," Chekov whimpered, his back arching as he screwed himself with the dildo.
Scotty knew the instant that the dildo hit Chekov's prostate, the way the blue eyes widened, the loud gasp, the stiffening body.
"God!" Chekov moaned, twisting and moving the dildo in and out, hitting that spot again and again. His eyes slammed shut, and he cursed loudly in Russian. Scotty could see the sweat standing out on his brow, how hard Pavel was gritting his teeth against the pleasure.
"Come for me," Chekov whispered. "Please."
One last time, and Chekov threw his head back, shouting once as white splashes landed on his stomach and the bedspread.
That was the last Scotty saw before his orgasm hit him, hard and fast like a bar brawl. He stroked faster, working the flesh until there was nothing left to give, and when he came back to himself, his monitor had been striped with sperm, and Chekov was lazily grinning at him, using his clean hand to lick the fluid from his body.
Scotty shuddered and leaned back hard against his chair.
"Da svidaniya," Chekov purred, rolling onto his front and resting his chin on his forearm. "I love you."
And then the window closed.
Scotty sat staring at his computer monitor, the white stripes standing out clear against the blue background of his desktop.
He concentrated on getting his breath back, and when he did, he closed his eyes and let himself feel the endorphins in his skin, the smell of sex in the air.
When he was able to think coherently, as well as move, he got out of his chair and went to find Chekov.
After all, he did owe the man a kiss against a wall.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2009-06-13 10:25 pm (UTC)I kind of meant for it to be more porny than it turned out to be, but I had read an article about sex writing earlier in the day, and it talked about how sex talk isn't just "ooh, harder, do me" or whatever, but can have other things in it, like, "Oh, shit, is the stove still runni-- ah!" or something.
Yay! A happy reader. <3
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Date: 2009-06-13 11:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 01:14 am (UTC)I watch porn for the lolz. :D
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Date: 2009-06-14 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-14 09:08 pm (UTC)As for about when they hook up, the funny thing about these fics is that they're not actually connected in one universe. They're just prompts that kickstarted something in my brain, so I tend to think of them as being different mini-universes? Like, how Author A will write the characters one way, and that's her sandbox, whereas Author B would write the characters a different way, and that's his? Both of them are still "correct" in their interpretations, especially if the characters resemble their canon counterparts, but they're still separate entities in a sense. I dunno.
Either way, there's a few prompts at the kink meme that look promising in terms of first-time fics, so I'll take a gander at those and see what comes out. :D
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Date: 2009-06-14 10:10 pm (UTC)*laughs* when i was little my brother and i used to run out of the room and then back in and then out again until such scenes were over. Now i just make Inappropriate jokes and wait for it to be over. ^_^ Although if its really bad i tend to cover my face with a pillow.