FIC: First-Hand Experience, Chris/Zach, Star Trek XI RPS
Title: First-Hand Experience
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Fandom: Star Trek XI RPS
Rating: OH SO NC-17
Word Count: ~2,000
Warnings: Fisting. Rimming. Porn. Chris being kind of a bastard, and Zach being kind of sneakily evil. Reference to The Buttplug Fic of Amazing.
Summary: Written for the trek_rpf_kink prompt here: Chris and Zach - lazy sex that devolves (evolves?) into Chris fisting Zach.
A/N: I LOVE THAT FISTING FIC IS WHAT I POST AFTER 3 MONTHS OF NOT POSTING ANYTHING. CLEARLY, I AM MADE OF AWESOME. Oh also? Thanks to my betas, who are also amazing and who make me laugh when they're mocking my fic. ILU BBS!
A/N 2: You guys, this almost had so many horrible, pun-ridden titles, I can't even tell you. I mean, besides the one I eventually picked. *cough*. I'm so sorry to anyone following me on twitter, truly. Just a sample: Boy Butter-fingers, A Helping Hand, Ruling with an Iron Fist, Hand Over Fist, Fist of God (Thank you, zoppity), Elbow Grease, Take My Hand, etc, etc. Yeah.
Zach is still panting with release when Chris slips three fingers into him, easy, the way slicked with leftover lube and Chris's own come. Zach groans and blinks up at Chris, eyes unfocused and pupils blown wide. "Hey," Chris says, smirking at the blissed-out look on Zach's face, the wet, bitten curve of his mouth. Chris glances meaningfully at Zach's cock, lying soft and quiescent against his thigh, spent. "You think you could be up for another round?" He presses in with his fingers, hard, the punctuation at the end of his question.
And Zach may have just come, may be practically wordless with the force of his orgasm, but he's never been one to back down from a challenge, especially not from Chris, and especially not in the bedroom. He hitches up his hips and smiles, his hair disheveled on the pillow, cheeks flushed, hands still clamped around the headboard rails: the very picture of debauchery, painted only for Chris. "I think I could handle it," he says, his voice deeper even than usual, rough with the groans and sighs Chris had forced from his throat.
Chris rewards Zach with another finger, four slipping in with only slightly more resistance than three, and Zach closes his eyes, blissful, his cock twitching against his thigh in a valiant effort to get hard again. Chris grins and leans down, dragging his tongue up the underside from root to tip, savoring the throaty Chris the effort gets him, the salty taste on his tongue, the way Zach can't help but pull his legs back towards his chest, giving Chris as much room as he needs.
Chris's breath catches at the sight, at Zach spread open before him, stretched wide around four of his fingers. The image is compelling: the pink skin of Zach's hole glistening with lube and come, opening for Chris's fingers as he fucks in, grasping greedily as he withdraws, like Zach can't bear to let him go and can't wait to welcome him in again. Chris's chest feels oddly tight at the thought. He leans over Zach, his weight forcing Zach's right leg farther back, opening him up completely. "Fuck," Zach says, and Chris can't help but fuck in again, harder, as he leans over to whisper, "that's kind of the point, Zach," in his ear before biting down, the gentle scrape of his teeth at odds with the forceful movements of his fingers.
Zach huffs out a laugh. "You're such a dick," he says, obediently craning his face away so Chris has more access to his neck. Chris's only response is to bite at Zach's jaw, hard enough to bruise, because, yeah, he is kind of a dick.
"You love it," he whispers, tongue drawing a trail down from Zach's neck to his chest and circling around the dark pink of a nipple. Zach gasps and arches up, his body bent almost completely in half as he shoves his chest closer to Chris's mouth and his ass down onto Chris's fingers, and Chris can only think, somewhat dizzily, I fucking love yoga. "Hold your legs," he says, and Zach complies, grabbing the backs of his knees and pressing them to his chest, groaning as Chris's fingers slide deeper.
Zach looks at Chris then, his eyes almost completely black with lust. "M-more," he says, breath hitching on the word as Chris works his fingers inside him, finding his prostate and massaging it mercilessly. He wants to see Zach come undone, wants to see him shake apart on his fingers, too fucked out to do more than pant and whine and moan as he comes without his cock ever being touched.
So Chris leans down and runs his tongue around his fingers, tasting himself and Zach and the tang of fresh sweat, Zach moaning wordlessly above him. He licks around his fingers and up to the bottom of Zach's balls, only to ignore them completely as he moves on to Zach's thigh, nipping the skin there as Zach's moans stutter out of his chest, curses mixed with the breathy noises he can't help but make. Chris grins evilly and licks the teethmarks he's left, fiercely glad that Zach will wear his marks tomorrow, will sit down gingerly as he remembers what they did together. His tongue trails back to his fingers where they slide in and out of Zach, and he licks around them again, tongue trailing over his own knuckles and the rim of Zach's entrance indiscriminately. He feels drunk with pleasure, as if he were the one getting fucked, and he moans against Zach's skin, the simple feel of Zach's body around his fingers better than a blowjob from anyone else.
"Christ," Zach says, and he sounds as drunk as Chris feels, blissful and desperate. "Chris, please, more." He lets go of his legs, letting them fall to Chris's shoulders, as if the effort was too much for him to maintain with Chris working him over. "Please, please, god, Chris, more!" He arches into Chris's touch, shoving himself forward and back onto Chris's fingers, trying to get them deeper, his heels pressing hard into Chris's back.
Chris smiles against Zach's thigh, grasping it with his left hand as he pulls his right hand almost completely out. "Shhh," he says, mouthing the skin under his lips, "shhh, baby, it's okay." He tucks his thumb in against his fingers and thrusts in, working the tight muscle of Zach's hole. "Let me in, baby," he says, Zach keening helplessly above him, and for a moment Chris thinks, this isn't going to work, too tight, it'll never fit. But he's nothing if not persistent so he keeps trying, finally feeling Zach relax around his fingers and then he's in completely, Zach going still under him as Chris presses inexorably forward, relentless.
"Fuuuu-- oh, fuuuck," Zach says, breathless, as Chris gently moves his hand inside him. Chris feels a little breathless himself, watching Zach take his entire hand inside himself, his thighs shaking around Chris's ears with the effort.
Chris makes soothing noises as he moves his hand in and out, eyes fixed hungrily on the place where Zach's body is stretched around him, accommodating him, welcoming him. The fierce clasp of Zach's body around his hand is a pleasure in itself; the way Zach's breath comes in harsh, uncontrolled pants with each thrust even more so. Zach cries out as Chris's hand brushes his prostate, his legs shaking fiercely as Chris takes advantage and massages it.
"Chris, oh, oh god, I think I'm--" Zach breaks off to moan, incoherent, as Chris folds his fingers towards his thumb, making a fist inside the hot clench of Zach's body. It's only a moment or two later, enough time for Chris to move his hand slowly in and out once, twice, before Zach is coming, groaning out his pleasure, the noise sounding like it's being dragged up from where Chris's hand is buried deep in his body. The pressure on Chris's wrist is intense, Zach clenching around Chris as he comes, long, slow pulses of pleasure that seem to go on and on, Zach's body arched in an impossible curve as he clutches the sheets and spills onto his own chest.
Finally, finally he comes down, melting into the sheets, slick with sweat and come and so breathtakingly beautiful that Chris's chest constricts. Gently, he uncurls his fingers, trying not to hurt Zach as he pulls his hand gingerly from his stretched hole. Zach is still shaking, his thigh trembling under Chris's mouth as he trails kisses up it, up to his spent, too-sensitive cock, which twitches feebly under his attentions, Zach groaning in either pain or pleasure or both, Chris can't tell. Chris leaves one last kiss on the head of his cock, incongruously chaste, before moving on again to Zach's flushed, come-streaked chest. Zach moans -- pure pleasure, this time -- as Chris licks up the bitter, salty traces of Zach's release.
"You," Zach says, breaking off to pant up at the ceiling when Chris pulls a nipple into his mouth. "You're trying to k-- oh god." Chris smiles against the skin under his mouth, jealously pleased with the red, bitten mark he's left in full view on Zach's neck. "Fuck, you're trying to kill me," Zach finally forces out, quick and breathless.
Chris nuzzles the soft hair on Zach's chest, moving up to nip at Zach's chin, his mouth. "Not yet," he says against Zach's lips.
Zach pulls away and squints at Chris; well, Chris thinks, squints as much as possible with a blissed-out, fucked-out luck on his face. "You're such a smug--" his voice hitches as Chris's hand finds a neglected nipple, rolling it between his fingers, "--bastard," Zach finishes, eyes closing on a whimper. "Completely without heart or soul."
And because, okay, he is a little smug -- with Zach sweaty and debauched beneath him, covered in his own come, Chris thinks he can be forgiven a little smugness -- but he's not completely pitiless. He grabs Zach's leg with his clean hand, pulling it up and back again as he brings his cock to Zach's ass. Zach definitely whimpers then but his legs fall open a little more, tacit permission, so Chris pushes in, the movement easier than it's ever been with Zach so stretched open around him. Chris gasps at the sensation, at the slick, hot feel of Zach around him, at the feel of his skin under his palm.
It doesn't last long; it can't, not with the way Zach's groaning as Chris fucks him, hard and deep and slow, with the way Zach tosses his head back against the pillows and clutches at the sheets white-knuckled. Chris holds out as long as he can against the sight and the tight feeling in his chest, against the steady, demanding burn of pleasure in his belly, until Zach looks up at him with eyes burning with lust and says, "Chris." Chris closes his own eyes at the picture Zach makes, wantonly splayed across the sheets, before he stills deep inside Zach, his orgasm coming in waves and waves of slow, endless pleasure.
He takes the time to pull out of Zach after, careful not to hurt him, before flopping down beside him in a boneless heap. It takes a herculean effort to turn his face towards Zach but he manages, only to find Zach staring back at him, a gentle smile curving his pink, kiss-bitten lips, the skin around his eyes crinkled with affection.
"Told you I could take it," Zach says, laughing at the face Chris makes in response before nuzzling into the sweaty curve of Chris's neck. "A bet's a bet," he whispers, licking the underside of Chris's jaw. Chris can feel the smug smile on his skin. "Just think of the fun I'll have with you, a buttplug, and allllll those interviews tomorrow," Zach continues --to which, of course, Chris can only bury his face in the pillows and groan pitifully, Zach cackling evilly next to him.
Oh God, I'm so filthy. D:
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Fandom: Star Trek XI RPS
Rating: OH SO NC-17
Word Count: ~2,000
Warnings: Fisting. Rimming. Porn. Chris being kind of a bastard, and Zach being kind of sneakily evil. Reference to The Buttplug Fic of Amazing.
Summary: Written for the trek_rpf_kink prompt here: Chris and Zach - lazy sex that devolves (evolves?) into Chris fisting Zach.
A/N: I LOVE THAT FISTING FIC IS WHAT I POST AFTER 3 MONTHS OF NOT POSTING ANYTHING. CLEARLY, I AM MADE OF AWESOME. Oh also? Thanks to my betas, who are also amazing and who make me laugh when they're mocking my fic. ILU BBS!
A/N 2: You guys, this almost had so many horrible, pun-ridden titles, I can't even tell you. I mean, besides the one I eventually picked. *cough*. I'm so sorry to anyone following me on twitter, truly. Just a sample: Boy Butter-fingers, A Helping Hand, Ruling with an Iron Fist, Hand Over Fist, Fist of God (Thank you, zoppity), Elbow Grease, Take My Hand, etc, etc. Yeah.
Zach is still panting with release when Chris slips three fingers into him, easy, the way slicked with leftover lube and Chris's own come. Zach groans and blinks up at Chris, eyes unfocused and pupils blown wide. "Hey," Chris says, smirking at the blissed-out look on Zach's face, the wet, bitten curve of his mouth. Chris glances meaningfully at Zach's cock, lying soft and quiescent against his thigh, spent. "You think you could be up for another round?" He presses in with his fingers, hard, the punctuation at the end of his question.
And Zach may have just come, may be practically wordless with the force of his orgasm, but he's never been one to back down from a challenge, especially not from Chris, and especially not in the bedroom. He hitches up his hips and smiles, his hair disheveled on the pillow, cheeks flushed, hands still clamped around the headboard rails: the very picture of debauchery, painted only for Chris. "I think I could handle it," he says, his voice deeper even than usual, rough with the groans and sighs Chris had forced from his throat.
Chris rewards Zach with another finger, four slipping in with only slightly more resistance than three, and Zach closes his eyes, blissful, his cock twitching against his thigh in a valiant effort to get hard again. Chris grins and leans down, dragging his tongue up the underside from root to tip, savoring the throaty Chris the effort gets him, the salty taste on his tongue, the way Zach can't help but pull his legs back towards his chest, giving Chris as much room as he needs.
Chris's breath catches at the sight, at Zach spread open before him, stretched wide around four of his fingers. The image is compelling: the pink skin of Zach's hole glistening with lube and come, opening for Chris's fingers as he fucks in, grasping greedily as he withdraws, like Zach can't bear to let him go and can't wait to welcome him in again. Chris's chest feels oddly tight at the thought. He leans over Zach, his weight forcing Zach's right leg farther back, opening him up completely. "Fuck," Zach says, and Chris can't help but fuck in again, harder, as he leans over to whisper, "that's kind of the point, Zach," in his ear before biting down, the gentle scrape of his teeth at odds with the forceful movements of his fingers.
Zach huffs out a laugh. "You're such a dick," he says, obediently craning his face away so Chris has more access to his neck. Chris's only response is to bite at Zach's jaw, hard enough to bruise, because, yeah, he is kind of a dick.
"You love it," he whispers, tongue drawing a trail down from Zach's neck to his chest and circling around the dark pink of a nipple. Zach gasps and arches up, his body bent almost completely in half as he shoves his chest closer to Chris's mouth and his ass down onto Chris's fingers, and Chris can only think, somewhat dizzily, I fucking love yoga. "Hold your legs," he says, and Zach complies, grabbing the backs of his knees and pressing them to his chest, groaning as Chris's fingers slide deeper.
Zach looks at Chris then, his eyes almost completely black with lust. "M-more," he says, breath hitching on the word as Chris works his fingers inside him, finding his prostate and massaging it mercilessly. He wants to see Zach come undone, wants to see him shake apart on his fingers, too fucked out to do more than pant and whine and moan as he comes without his cock ever being touched.
So Chris leans down and runs his tongue around his fingers, tasting himself and Zach and the tang of fresh sweat, Zach moaning wordlessly above him. He licks around his fingers and up to the bottom of Zach's balls, only to ignore them completely as he moves on to Zach's thigh, nipping the skin there as Zach's moans stutter out of his chest, curses mixed with the breathy noises he can't help but make. Chris grins evilly and licks the teethmarks he's left, fiercely glad that Zach will wear his marks tomorrow, will sit down gingerly as he remembers what they did together. His tongue trails back to his fingers where they slide in and out of Zach, and he licks around them again, tongue trailing over his own knuckles and the rim of Zach's entrance indiscriminately. He feels drunk with pleasure, as if he were the one getting fucked, and he moans against Zach's skin, the simple feel of Zach's body around his fingers better than a blowjob from anyone else.
"Christ," Zach says, and he sounds as drunk as Chris feels, blissful and desperate. "Chris, please, more." He lets go of his legs, letting them fall to Chris's shoulders, as if the effort was too much for him to maintain with Chris working him over. "Please, please, god, Chris, more!" He arches into Chris's touch, shoving himself forward and back onto Chris's fingers, trying to get them deeper, his heels pressing hard into Chris's back.
Chris smiles against Zach's thigh, grasping it with his left hand as he pulls his right hand almost completely out. "Shhh," he says, mouthing the skin under his lips, "shhh, baby, it's okay." He tucks his thumb in against his fingers and thrusts in, working the tight muscle of Zach's hole. "Let me in, baby," he says, Zach keening helplessly above him, and for a moment Chris thinks, this isn't going to work, too tight, it'll never fit. But he's nothing if not persistent so he keeps trying, finally feeling Zach relax around his fingers and then he's in completely, Zach going still under him as Chris presses inexorably forward, relentless.
"Fuuuu-- oh, fuuuck," Zach says, breathless, as Chris gently moves his hand inside him. Chris feels a little breathless himself, watching Zach take his entire hand inside himself, his thighs shaking around Chris's ears with the effort.
Chris makes soothing noises as he moves his hand in and out, eyes fixed hungrily on the place where Zach's body is stretched around him, accommodating him, welcoming him. The fierce clasp of Zach's body around his hand is a pleasure in itself; the way Zach's breath comes in harsh, uncontrolled pants with each thrust even more so. Zach cries out as Chris's hand brushes his prostate, his legs shaking fiercely as Chris takes advantage and massages it.
"Chris, oh, oh god, I think I'm--" Zach breaks off to moan, incoherent, as Chris folds his fingers towards his thumb, making a fist inside the hot clench of Zach's body. It's only a moment or two later, enough time for Chris to move his hand slowly in and out once, twice, before Zach is coming, groaning out his pleasure, the noise sounding like it's being dragged up from where Chris's hand is buried deep in his body. The pressure on Chris's wrist is intense, Zach clenching around Chris as he comes, long, slow pulses of pleasure that seem to go on and on, Zach's body arched in an impossible curve as he clutches the sheets and spills onto his own chest.
Finally, finally he comes down, melting into the sheets, slick with sweat and come and so breathtakingly beautiful that Chris's chest constricts. Gently, he uncurls his fingers, trying not to hurt Zach as he pulls his hand gingerly from his stretched hole. Zach is still shaking, his thigh trembling under Chris's mouth as he trails kisses up it, up to his spent, too-sensitive cock, which twitches feebly under his attentions, Zach groaning in either pain or pleasure or both, Chris can't tell. Chris leaves one last kiss on the head of his cock, incongruously chaste, before moving on again to Zach's flushed, come-streaked chest. Zach moans -- pure pleasure, this time -- as Chris licks up the bitter, salty traces of Zach's release.
"You," Zach says, breaking off to pant up at the ceiling when Chris pulls a nipple into his mouth. "You're trying to k-- oh god." Chris smiles against the skin under his mouth, jealously pleased with the red, bitten mark he's left in full view on Zach's neck. "Fuck, you're trying to kill me," Zach finally forces out, quick and breathless.
Chris nuzzles the soft hair on Zach's chest, moving up to nip at Zach's chin, his mouth. "Not yet," he says against Zach's lips.
Zach pulls away and squints at Chris; well, Chris thinks, squints as much as possible with a blissed-out, fucked-out luck on his face. "You're such a smug--" his voice hitches as Chris's hand finds a neglected nipple, rolling it between his fingers, "--bastard," Zach finishes, eyes closing on a whimper. "Completely without heart or soul."
And because, okay, he is a little smug -- with Zach sweaty and debauched beneath him, covered in his own come, Chris thinks he can be forgiven a little smugness -- but he's not completely pitiless. He grabs Zach's leg with his clean hand, pulling it up and back again as he brings his cock to Zach's ass. Zach definitely whimpers then but his legs fall open a little more, tacit permission, so Chris pushes in, the movement easier than it's ever been with Zach so stretched open around him. Chris gasps at the sensation, at the slick, hot feel of Zach around him, at the feel of his skin under his palm.
It doesn't last long; it can't, not with the way Zach's groaning as Chris fucks him, hard and deep and slow, with the way Zach tosses his head back against the pillows and clutches at the sheets white-knuckled. Chris holds out as long as he can against the sight and the tight feeling in his chest, against the steady, demanding burn of pleasure in his belly, until Zach looks up at him with eyes burning with lust and says, "Chris." Chris closes his own eyes at the picture Zach makes, wantonly splayed across the sheets, before he stills deep inside Zach, his orgasm coming in waves and waves of slow, endless pleasure.
He takes the time to pull out of Zach after, careful not to hurt him, before flopping down beside him in a boneless heap. It takes a herculean effort to turn his face towards Zach but he manages, only to find Zach staring back at him, a gentle smile curving his pink, kiss-bitten lips, the skin around his eyes crinkled with affection.
"Told you I could take it," Zach says, laughing at the face Chris makes in response before nuzzling into the sweaty curve of Chris's neck. "A bet's a bet," he whispers, licking the underside of Chris's jaw. Chris can feel the smug smile on his skin. "Just think of the fun I'll have with you, a buttplug, and allllll those interviews tomorrow," Zach continues --to which, of course, Chris can only bury his face in the pillows and groan pitifully, Zach cackling evilly next to him.
Oh God, I'm so filthy. D: