Fic: Pavel Treats Kirk
Title: Pavel Treats Kirk
Pairing: Kirk/Chekov, with more emphasis on the slash this time
Rating: R, for substantial crudeness. And nudity, I believe.
Summary: Pavel misses his stash. He attempts to convince Kirk to help him out. Sequel to this.
Pavel does not live in fear of being exposed, because, as Kirk said, it is mutually assured destruction. Actually, Pavel is much more confident in his work now, knowing that minor errors might get him frowned or yelled at, but Kirk wants to keep an eye on him, keep him close, and Kirk knows better than to do anything frivolous to Pavel's career.
Out of uniform, they get along pretty well these days, playing pranks on the crew and messing with the door programming so it makes a melodramatic sighing noise when Spock crosses any threshold. Other crewmembers have other noises. They even have their own - a few bars of "You're So Vain" for Kirk, some terrible 20th century pop ballad, and the instrumental intro to "Jailbait" by Motorhead for Pavel, a metal song from around the same time period. Pavel knows exactly why Kirk knows these songs.
They are also in pornos, pornos with Jimmy Treat starring.
But it's been a few weeks since Pavel had his porn stolen by a superior officer, and now he's kind of wondering how he can get it back. It's not that he can't jack off without it, but porn passes the time after Hikaru's asleep and Pavel has nothing else to do. He has a diagnosed sleeping disorder, he needs to tire himself out before he can hit the hay. The best way he's found to do that is masturbation, and the best way to masturbate is with something to look at.
So when Pavel knocks hesitantly on Kirk's door that night, Kirk raises an eyebrow, but lets him in.
"Lemme get this straight. You can't sleep without your porn?" Kirk blinks.
"Da. And I can't exactly replicate more. Keep the vorst ones, I don't care. But give me something."
A slow smile crosses Kirk's face. He sits in a leather chair, splaying his legs a little to hint at the package Pavel has seen many times, but never in person.
"Convince me," Kirk drawls, obviously pleased with himself. He is well aware Pavel watches gay porn. He doesn't have to wonder if Pavel has homosexual tendencies, he has proof hidden somewhere, maybe in this room.
Pavel licks suddenly dry lips, a little nervous.
"I can make it an order, Ensign," Kirk threatens idly. "If that helps. For example, 'Strip.'" It is the tone of voice, that hard-edged no-nonsense tone that underlies every dom/sub scene Pavel has watched, that makes Pavel obey instantly. "Good boy. On your hands and knees."
Pavel sinks to the floor. Kirk stands, circles him, hand trailing over Pavel's naked back and dipping into the crevice between his buttocks. He slaps one cheek and walks back to the chair, flopping down and spinning a full rotation as though saying, "Really, that's all?" He stops the chair when he can see Pavel again, though Pavel is staring at the floor now, face red.
"Crawl to me."
If his entire body could blush, Pavel is sure it would be. His skin prickles with cold and heat, cold of a room meant for people with clothes on and heat of arousal and shame. He crawls, and though it might be awkward and ungainly for most people, Russia is still known for compulsory ballet and gymnastic programs for children. Genius Pavel may be, but exempt he was not. Ten years of gymnastic and dance training add up, even while his body still grows out of proportion and even with several years of only mild training that he can do alone, while he is in Starfleet. He is clumsy from nervousness, but on his own, when he isn't thinking about consequences, there is a natural grace to him.
Kirk sees. Kirk sees the feline motion of those long, toned limbs and knows that tonight, he's in for a treat.
On to part 3?
Pairing: Kirk/Chekov, with more emphasis on the slash this time
Rating: R, for substantial crudeness. And nudity, I believe.
Summary: Pavel misses his stash. He attempts to convince Kirk to help him out. Sequel to this.
Pavel does not live in fear of being exposed, because, as Kirk said, it is mutually assured destruction. Actually, Pavel is much more confident in his work now, knowing that minor errors might get him frowned or yelled at, but Kirk wants to keep an eye on him, keep him close, and Kirk knows better than to do anything frivolous to Pavel's career.
Out of uniform, they get along pretty well these days, playing pranks on the crew and messing with the door programming so it makes a melodramatic sighing noise when Spock crosses any threshold. Other crewmembers have other noises. They even have their own - a few bars of "You're So Vain" for Kirk, some terrible 20th century pop ballad, and the instrumental intro to "Jailbait" by Motorhead for Pavel, a metal song from around the same time period. Pavel knows exactly why Kirk knows these songs.
They are also in pornos, pornos with Jimmy Treat starring.
But it's been a few weeks since Pavel had his porn stolen by a superior officer, and now he's kind of wondering how he can get it back. It's not that he can't jack off without it, but porn passes the time after Hikaru's asleep and Pavel has nothing else to do. He has a diagnosed sleeping disorder, he needs to tire himself out before he can hit the hay. The best way he's found to do that is masturbation, and the best way to masturbate is with something to look at.
So when Pavel knocks hesitantly on Kirk's door that night, Kirk raises an eyebrow, but lets him in.
"Lemme get this straight. You can't sleep without your porn?" Kirk blinks.
"Da. And I can't exactly replicate more. Keep the vorst ones, I don't care. But give me something."
A slow smile crosses Kirk's face. He sits in a leather chair, splaying his legs a little to hint at the package Pavel has seen many times, but never in person.
"Convince me," Kirk drawls, obviously pleased with himself. He is well aware Pavel watches gay porn. He doesn't have to wonder if Pavel has homosexual tendencies, he has proof hidden somewhere, maybe in this room.
Pavel licks suddenly dry lips, a little nervous.
"I can make it an order, Ensign," Kirk threatens idly. "If that helps. For example, 'Strip.'" It is the tone of voice, that hard-edged no-nonsense tone that underlies every dom/sub scene Pavel has watched, that makes Pavel obey instantly. "Good boy. On your hands and knees."
Pavel sinks to the floor. Kirk stands, circles him, hand trailing over Pavel's naked back and dipping into the crevice between his buttocks. He slaps one cheek and walks back to the chair, flopping down and spinning a full rotation as though saying, "Really, that's all?" He stops the chair when he can see Pavel again, though Pavel is staring at the floor now, face red.
"Crawl to me."
If his entire body could blush, Pavel is sure it would be. His skin prickles with cold and heat, cold of a room meant for people with clothes on and heat of arousal and shame. He crawls, and though it might be awkward and ungainly for most people, Russia is still known for compulsory ballet and gymnastic programs for children. Genius Pavel may be, but exempt he was not. Ten years of gymnastic and dance training add up, even while his body still grows out of proportion and even with several years of only mild training that he can do alone, while he is in Starfleet. He is clumsy from nervousness, but on his own, when he isn't thinking about consequences, there is a natural grace to him.
Kirk sees. Kirk sees the feline motion of those long, toned limbs and knows that tonight, he's in for a treat.
On to part 3?