Fic: Properly Treated
Title: Properly Treated
Pairing: Kirk/Chekov
Rating: R
Summary: Chekov tries to persuade Kirk to give him back his porn. Chekov tries persuading with his lips, and his tongue, and...
Notes: sequel to this
Jim starts Chekov off easy, just a blowjob. The kid is all hasty enthusiasm and no technique, but there's a lot to be said for hasty enthusiasm. Also, there are little hints and motions that tell Jim sinful things about Chekov - that he plays close attention to those pornos he whacks off to, or he is simply a natural at this. Jim is unsure which he would prefer.
He stops Chekov after a minute or so of such focused attention. Natural or not, Jim has never met a man who could handle swallowing on the first try, and he has plenty of plans for how this night would go, none of them including the kid choking on come.
"I want you to stretch yourself until you're ready to ride me," Jim says. He tosses Chekov a tube of lubricant. "Lie down on the floor, ass toward me so I can watch." He is blunt because he has no reason to be coy, and the matter-of-fact tone makes Chekov's cock twitch.
Jim strokes his own in sympathy. "Sleep disorder," he says aloud, more talking to himself now. "Really, kid, a sleep disorder that requires flogging your log? You're the little genius, aren't you? Surely you could have come up with a better excuse than that."
Chekov opens his mouth and Jim glares at him.
"Did I say you could speak, Ensign?" It has taken some practice, but Jim is confident that he can say almost any word or title now with such a tone of voice that anyone in the vicinity immediately knows that he is actually saying "slut."
From the way Chekov's face turns red, Jim guesses he managed it this time.
That tiny pink bud has clearly never been plumbed, and seeing Chekov poke at it hesitantly with slick fingers almost has Jim coming. But Chekov gets a little surer and the hole gets a little looser, wider, and "That's enough," he says. It isn't really, Chekov would feel the burn and he'd be sore for their next shift, but Jim knows what he's doing. Chekov wouldn't tear anything and a little soreness would make him remember the lesson.
Or, it would make it impossible to forget Jim every time he sat down. Jim was fine with either eventuality.
Chekov sits on him agonizingly slowly, and his ass is like a sweltering hot vice. Jim loses his patience after Chekov has risen and fallen two wincing, whimpering times. He grabs the boy's hips and slam him down, angling for that nub he'd just barely brushed last time.
The cry is loud and strained, but filled with pleasure, not pain. Chekov moves with more abandon and Jim doesn't have to hold on to his hips. Instead, his fingers play over Chekov's cock, and once he comes, Jim forces back the post-coital daze and instead pulls a few times on the Russian, who comes with another cry.
"Think you can sleep now, Ensign?" Jim asks, and "ensign" here means "slut" again. Chekov flushes, but not as deeply. All the blood gone to the other head, probably.
"Da. Da, ken sleep. Ken sleep here?" He is already nodding off, Jim's softened cock still in him and his head nestled into Jim's shoulder.
It's tempting. It's pretty damn tempting. It's also pretty damn tempting to just tie the kid to his bed and fuck him a few more times, or even tie him down and never let him go. Jim's hands fondly grope Chekov's ass and then land a solid smack.
"Up, kid. We got work tomorrow." Chekov reluctantly and sleepily gathers his clothes and puts them on. He stands near the door for a minute before turning to look expectantly at Jim. The captain smirks. "I'm not sold. Try persuading me again tomorrow...but come an hour or two earlier."
Pairing: Kirk/Chekov
Rating: R
Summary: Chekov tries to persuade Kirk to give him back his porn. Chekov tries persuading with his lips, and his tongue, and...
Notes: sequel to this
Jim starts Chekov off easy, just a blowjob. The kid is all hasty enthusiasm and no technique, but there's a lot to be said for hasty enthusiasm. Also, there are little hints and motions that tell Jim sinful things about Chekov - that he plays close attention to those pornos he whacks off to, or he is simply a natural at this. Jim is unsure which he would prefer.
He stops Chekov after a minute or so of such focused attention. Natural or not, Jim has never met a man who could handle swallowing on the first try, and he has plenty of plans for how this night would go, none of them including the kid choking on come.
"I want you to stretch yourself until you're ready to ride me," Jim says. He tosses Chekov a tube of lubricant. "Lie down on the floor, ass toward me so I can watch." He is blunt because he has no reason to be coy, and the matter-of-fact tone makes Chekov's cock twitch.
Jim strokes his own in sympathy. "Sleep disorder," he says aloud, more talking to himself now. "Really, kid, a sleep disorder that requires flogging your log? You're the little genius, aren't you? Surely you could have come up with a better excuse than that."
Chekov opens his mouth and Jim glares at him.
"Did I say you could speak, Ensign?" It has taken some practice, but Jim is confident that he can say almost any word or title now with such a tone of voice that anyone in the vicinity immediately knows that he is actually saying "slut."
From the way Chekov's face turns red, Jim guesses he managed it this time.
That tiny pink bud has clearly never been plumbed, and seeing Chekov poke at it hesitantly with slick fingers almost has Jim coming. But Chekov gets a little surer and the hole gets a little looser, wider, and "That's enough," he says. It isn't really, Chekov would feel the burn and he'd be sore for their next shift, but Jim knows what he's doing. Chekov wouldn't tear anything and a little soreness would make him remember the lesson.
Or, it would make it impossible to forget Jim every time he sat down. Jim was fine with either eventuality.
Chekov sits on him agonizingly slowly, and his ass is like a sweltering hot vice. Jim loses his patience after Chekov has risen and fallen two wincing, whimpering times. He grabs the boy's hips and slam him down, angling for that nub he'd just barely brushed last time.
The cry is loud and strained, but filled with pleasure, not pain. Chekov moves with more abandon and Jim doesn't have to hold on to his hips. Instead, his fingers play over Chekov's cock, and once he comes, Jim forces back the post-coital daze and instead pulls a few times on the Russian, who comes with another cry.
"Think you can sleep now, Ensign?" Jim asks, and "ensign" here means "slut" again. Chekov flushes, but not as deeply. All the blood gone to the other head, probably.
"Da. Da, ken sleep. Ken sleep here?" He is already nodding off, Jim's softened cock still in him and his head nestled into Jim's shoulder.
It's tempting. It's pretty damn tempting. It's also pretty damn tempting to just tie the kid to his bed and fuck him a few more times, or even tie him down and never let him go. Jim's hands fondly grope Chekov's ass and then land a solid smack.
"Up, kid. We got work tomorrow." Chekov reluctantly and sleepily gathers his clothes and puts them on. He stands near the door for a minute before turning to look expectantly at Jim. The captain smirks. "I'm not sold. Try persuading me again tomorrow...but come an hour or two earlier."