Fic: Father Figure, NC-17, Zach/Leonard RPS
Title: Father Figure
Pairing: Zach/Leonard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1052
Disclaimer: This is not true, and I mean no harm. These men belong to themselves and I, sadly, do not know them.
A/N: This is for my gorgeous fandom wife filthgoblin who bought and paid for my behind in the help_haiti auction ;) She asked for Zach and Leonard, with a prompt of Father Figure, not realizing that for years I've wanted to use George Michael's song of the same name as inspiration for fic. Babe, I hope you like it! This pairing was harder, and more fun, to write than I thought they would be :)
Hey, don't read if a little May/October sexytimes may bother you. Also, uh, if even a mild daddy kink is not at all your thing, you might not want to read this either. The rest of you pervs? Enjoy! ;)
He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, not knocking, not making himself known. Leonard doesn’t ask him when he opens the door, instead gestures for him to come in with a warm and gentle hand on the back. Leonard doesn’t ask why Zach’s there either, why he’s been standing there staring at his hands, shuffling his feet, not knocking on the door. Leonard waits, stoic and patient, like his counterpart, like their counterpart, waiting for Zach to say something. Zach can’t say anything and that’s when it hits him. Spock is why he’s come here to Leonard’s in the middle of the night, Spock would understand him, does understand him, understands them, Zach and himself.
His mind is a jumbled mess full of starts and stops, every word that threatens to jump out feels wrong somehow, not enough. He thinks to tell Leonard this, tries to find a way to say what’s in his head, why he’s there. He wants to tell him that he can’t come up with the words, that he doesn’t know anymore where reality starts and fiction stops; where the character is supposed to end and it just isn’t fucking logical to be standing here with his mouth hanging open, contemplating Spock and Leonard and so he decides. He decides to be decidedly illogical, decides maybe words aren’t needed at all.
Leonard’s lips are softer than Zach thought they would be, different from Chris’s and he pulls back to say so, to tell Leonard, to tell him everything and anything and there are all those inadequate words threatening to jump out of his mouth again. He’s stopped from such nonsense, met instead with a soft statement of his own name, not a question or a rejection but just a word; a word that tells him what he thinks he needs to know.
It’s not messy or desperate, not what he’s used to. It’s quiet and soft and there are hands on his face, weathered, elegant fingers touching his cheeks, caressing day old stubble. Leonard’s fingers are in the mind meld position and Zach laughs nervously at that thought, against Leonard’s mouth, visions of that Spock and his own captain dancing across his thoughts as if Leonard had put them there.
“It’s illogical,” Zach manages to say, pulling slightly away, fingers still on his face.
“That it is,” Leonard answers, eyes closed.
“You’re old enough…” Zach stops until Leonard opens his eyes, challenges him to say it. “…to be my father.”
“Indeed.” Leonard agrees. “Old enough to be your grandfather.”
Zach pulls fully away, reluctant, runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Is that…Is that okay, Leonard? Is this okay?” Zach doesn’t look at Leonard, can’t look at him, doesn’t want to see the rejection, soft as it may be, in his thoughtful face.
Leonard reaches gingerly for Zach, hands falling gentle on his squared shoulders. “Zach.”
There’s that statement of his name again and Zach wants to shuffle his feet, roll his shoulders, pretend this whole fucking thing isn’t happening. Leonard is speaking to him again without words and there are fingers back on his face. Zach wants to speak but Leonard hushes him with his lips, soft at first until Zach reaches for Leonard, mirrors him, kisses him again and then again, nipping at his lips with a needy little sigh when Leonard shifts, takes hold of Zach’s hand and leads him into the next room.
Leonard eases into a pale colored, overstuffed chair patterned with roses and greens. Zach watches him, guilt momentarily slipping by, visions of Leonard and his lovely wife picking out this chair on some antiquing trip, surpassed by fleeting images of Bill sitting in the chair, legs splayed wide and obscene like Chris would do, Leonard on his knees in front of his captain, as Zach has done with his own. Guilt quickly turns into something darker, giving way to a worshipping sort of lust and Zach is stepping forward, dropping to his knees before he can talk himself out of it.
His hands are on Leonard’s knees, moving slowly up still lean, still muscular thighs. His face follows suit, nuzzles against Leonard, against his thighs, against his growing arousal. Zach rubs his cheek over the warmth he finds, startles at the hands fisted in his hair, stutters at the strained gasp as he breathes hot over material that is, frankly, in the way. Despite shaky fingers, quick work is made of fastenings and Zach casts a last questioning eye up at the man who was certainly old enough to be his father.
Leonard looks down at him, more gorgeous and graceful at his age, in this position, than Zach could ever imagine becoming, his hands still fisted in Zach’s hair.
“Go on, son,” Leonard says casually, as if Zach were about to do anything less lurid than run his tongue up hard, heated flesh, less vulgar than stretch his lips out over an impressive length, less naughty than letting Leonard fuck his throat absolutely raw if that’s what he wanted.
Zach had been here before, with Chris. He’d been on his knees in this position of power, holding hips down while Chris had bucked wildly beneath him, eager for more, more, more and always wanting it quick and dirty and right fucking now but with Leonard, here with Leonard…it felt like different; it felt like a quiet sort of acceptance. Slow and measured, Zach works his tongue up and Leonard‘s cock, moves his lips down as far as he can, eases the whole length of Leonard down his throat slow and easy, speeding up only when Leonard’s fingers grasp harder at his hair. Zach hollows his cheeks and sucks then for all he’s worth until Leonard gasps, stills and shudders, shoots hot down Zach’s throat.
Zach looks up, the intensity he finds in Leonard’s eyes throwing an even deeper flush right up his body, even after this thing he’s just done. He thinks to speak, say something, say…what? Thank you? Was that as good for you as it was for me? Does this happen to you…ever? Often? Have you and Bill done this, do you…And Zach has to stop, then, with an image of Leonard on his knees, stop when Leonard runs a thumb over his spit slick lips.
Pairing: Zach/Leonard
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1052
Disclaimer: This is not true, and I mean no harm. These men belong to themselves and I, sadly, do not know them.
A/N: This is for my gorgeous fandom wife filthgoblin who bought and paid for my behind in the help_haiti auction ;) She asked for Zach and Leonard, with a prompt of Father Figure, not realizing that for years I've wanted to use George Michael's song of the same name as inspiration for fic. Babe, I hope you like it! This pairing was harder, and more fun, to write than I thought they would be :)
Hey, don't read if a little May/October sexytimes may bother you. Also, uh, if even a mild daddy kink is not at all your thing, you might not want to read this either. The rest of you pervs? Enjoy! ;)
He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, not knocking, not making himself known. Leonard doesn’t ask him when he opens the door, instead gestures for him to come in with a warm and gentle hand on the back. Leonard doesn’t ask why Zach’s there either, why he’s been standing there staring at his hands, shuffling his feet, not knocking on the door. Leonard waits, stoic and patient, like his counterpart, like their counterpart, waiting for Zach to say something. Zach can’t say anything and that’s when it hits him. Spock is why he’s come here to Leonard’s in the middle of the night, Spock would understand him, does understand him, understands them, Zach and himself.
His mind is a jumbled mess full of starts and stops, every word that threatens to jump out feels wrong somehow, not enough. He thinks to tell Leonard this, tries to find a way to say what’s in his head, why he’s there. He wants to tell him that he can’t come up with the words, that he doesn’t know anymore where reality starts and fiction stops; where the character is supposed to end and it just isn’t fucking logical to be standing here with his mouth hanging open, contemplating Spock and Leonard and so he decides. He decides to be decidedly illogical, decides maybe words aren’t needed at all.
Leonard’s lips are softer than Zach thought they would be, different from Chris’s and he pulls back to say so, to tell Leonard, to tell him everything and anything and there are all those inadequate words threatening to jump out of his mouth again. He’s stopped from such nonsense, met instead with a soft statement of his own name, not a question or a rejection but just a word; a word that tells him what he thinks he needs to know.
It’s not messy or desperate, not what he’s used to. It’s quiet and soft and there are hands on his face, weathered, elegant fingers touching his cheeks, caressing day old stubble. Leonard’s fingers are in the mind meld position and Zach laughs nervously at that thought, against Leonard’s mouth, visions of that Spock and his own captain dancing across his thoughts as if Leonard had put them there.
“It’s illogical,” Zach manages to say, pulling slightly away, fingers still on his face.
“That it is,” Leonard answers, eyes closed.
“You’re old enough…” Zach stops until Leonard opens his eyes, challenges him to say it. “…to be my father.”
“Indeed.” Leonard agrees. “Old enough to be your grandfather.”
Zach pulls fully away, reluctant, runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Is that…Is that okay, Leonard? Is this okay?” Zach doesn’t look at Leonard, can’t look at him, doesn’t want to see the rejection, soft as it may be, in his thoughtful face.
Leonard reaches gingerly for Zach, hands falling gentle on his squared shoulders. “Zach.”
There’s that statement of his name again and Zach wants to shuffle his feet, roll his shoulders, pretend this whole fucking thing isn’t happening. Leonard is speaking to him again without words and there are fingers back on his face. Zach wants to speak but Leonard hushes him with his lips, soft at first until Zach reaches for Leonard, mirrors him, kisses him again and then again, nipping at his lips with a needy little sigh when Leonard shifts, takes hold of Zach’s hand and leads him into the next room.
Leonard eases into a pale colored, overstuffed chair patterned with roses and greens. Zach watches him, guilt momentarily slipping by, visions of Leonard and his lovely wife picking out this chair on some antiquing trip, surpassed by fleeting images of Bill sitting in the chair, legs splayed wide and obscene like Chris would do, Leonard on his knees in front of his captain, as Zach has done with his own. Guilt quickly turns into something darker, giving way to a worshipping sort of lust and Zach is stepping forward, dropping to his knees before he can talk himself out of it.
His hands are on Leonard’s knees, moving slowly up still lean, still muscular thighs. His face follows suit, nuzzles against Leonard, against his thighs, against his growing arousal. Zach rubs his cheek over the warmth he finds, startles at the hands fisted in his hair, stutters at the strained gasp as he breathes hot over material that is, frankly, in the way. Despite shaky fingers, quick work is made of fastenings and Zach casts a last questioning eye up at the man who was certainly old enough to be his father.
Leonard looks down at him, more gorgeous and graceful at his age, in this position, than Zach could ever imagine becoming, his hands still fisted in Zach’s hair.
“Go on, son,” Leonard says casually, as if Zach were about to do anything less lurid than run his tongue up hard, heated flesh, less vulgar than stretch his lips out over an impressive length, less naughty than letting Leonard fuck his throat absolutely raw if that’s what he wanted.
Zach had been here before, with Chris. He’d been on his knees in this position of power, holding hips down while Chris had bucked wildly beneath him, eager for more, more, more and always wanting it quick and dirty and right fucking now but with Leonard, here with Leonard…it felt like different; it felt like a quiet sort of acceptance. Slow and measured, Zach works his tongue up and Leonard‘s cock, moves his lips down as far as he can, eases the whole length of Leonard down his throat slow and easy, speeding up only when Leonard’s fingers grasp harder at his hair. Zach hollows his cheeks and sucks then for all he’s worth until Leonard gasps, stills and shudders, shoots hot down Zach’s throat.
Zach looks up, the intensity he finds in Leonard’s eyes throwing an even deeper flush right up his body, even after this thing he’s just done. He thinks to speak, say something, say…what? Thank you? Was that as good for you as it was for me? Does this happen to you…ever? Often? Have you and Bill done this, do you…And Zach has to stop, then, with an image of Leonard on his knees, stop when Leonard runs a thumb over his spit slick lips.