Sharing
Sharing
They never called each other by their first names, never acted like this was something that could last or should. He’d found him, crazy and lost and needing direction. He’d given him direction alright, an education that never stopped in the classroom. He’d learned to be more than some wild-eyed kid that couldn’t get enough speed.
He’d learned when it was okay to let the pace slow down. He’d learned when it was okay to bide his time. He’d learned a little patience, though no one would ever call him a patient man. So it wasn’t really all that surprising when he walked into Pike’s quarters and found the man watching him with a cautious eye that his fingers itched and his lungs burned. It wasn’t surprising to either of them when Kirk pressed Pike back against the wall and mauled at his mouth, biting and sucking until Pike was opening beneath him, giving Kirk exactly what he needed.
It was never enough and it never would be. For men like them, there was only the need to push, to be more, to be the best, to be the impossible that everyone else could never be. They were two of a kind.
When their clothes were stripped and they were sweat slicked, bodies writhing against one another, it was enough. When it was over, they lay on their backs, the hum of the engine vibrating though them, though only they, outside of the engineers, would ever claim they could feel it. It might have been enough. Maybe.
Kirk was okay with that. No person could compare to the way he felt the first time he gazed upon the Enterprise. As he rolled over onto his side and Pike smiled up at him, Kirk was amazingly ok with that because they both loved the Enterprise more than they’d ever love a person. As Pike’s hand cupped the back of his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, he figured it was going to be alright because their girl wouldn’t mind sharing at all.
They never called each other by their first names, never acted like this was something that could last or should. He’d found him, crazy and lost and needing direction. He’d given him direction alright, an education that never stopped in the classroom. He’d learned to be more than some wild-eyed kid that couldn’t get enough speed.
He’d learned when it was okay to let the pace slow down. He’d learned when it was okay to bide his time. He’d learned a little patience, though no one would ever call him a patient man. So it wasn’t really all that surprising when he walked into Pike’s quarters and found the man watching him with a cautious eye that his fingers itched and his lungs burned. It wasn’t surprising to either of them when Kirk pressed Pike back against the wall and mauled at his mouth, biting and sucking until Pike was opening beneath him, giving Kirk exactly what he needed.
It was never enough and it never would be. For men like them, there was only the need to push, to be more, to be the best, to be the impossible that everyone else could never be. They were two of a kind.
When their clothes were stripped and they were sweat slicked, bodies writhing against one another, it was enough. When it was over, they lay on their backs, the hum of the engine vibrating though them, though only they, outside of the engineers, would ever claim they could feel it. It might have been enough. Maybe.
Kirk was okay with that. No person could compare to the way he felt the first time he gazed upon the Enterprise. As he rolled over onto his side and Pike smiled up at him, Kirk was amazingly ok with that because they both loved the Enterprise more than they’d ever love a person. As Pike’s hand cupped the back of his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, he figured it was going to be alright because their girl wouldn’t mind sharing at all.