FIC: Hypnos
Title: Hypnos
Characters: McCoy/Chekov (Star Trek.)
Summary: McCoy can't sleep with an Ensign squiggling against him. A good ol' fashioned PWP.
A/N: Goodness, it's been a long time. But you know what? I'm contributing to a slash movement that's like 40 years in the making. This is AWESOME. I'm part of history.
Disclaimer: This did not happen. Negative. Sorry.
Pavel usually sleeps soundly, curled up on his side, one of Leonard's arms around his waist. He prefers sleeping next to the wall the bed is pushed against, something McCoy knows he shouldn't think into, but he does anyway when he can't sleep. He wonders if Pavel's bedroom in Russia was small like the quarters on the ship, or if it's one of his idiosyncrasy he's only recent discovered. Sometimes he hopes the habit doesn't have a dark origin, but he tries to steer his thoughts away from those instincts. Besides, Leonard likes sleeping on the outer side of the bed, his chin burrowed the younger man's hair.
But tonight, it's different; Pavel keeps fidgeting in his sleep, shallowly and lightly kicking, barely missing the wall. He raises his head up to look at Pavel's face, eyes adjusting to the darkness. His facial muscles are twitching, worrying McCoy. He leans down to nuzzle Pavel's neck behind his neck, inhaling his scent, and he tenses his grip slightly.
“Pavel,” McCoy murmurers, not wanting to wake him, but hoping it calms his body down. Pavel bucks his hips back, his ass rubbing against McCoy's thighs. He bites his lip, not wanting to wake the sleeping ensign, but his boxers are feeling mighty tight. Pressing a kiss to Pavel's head, he snuggles back up to him and tries to fall back asleep.
His efforts are quickly thwarted as Pavel starts mumbling. McCoy can't make out actual words at first, but he continues to listen until the words start to make sense.
“Leo,” he hears Pavel whimper as he lets out a big kick, followed by a wanton moan. “Harder, need...” His voice trails off, but McCoy has a pretty good idea what he's dreaming about. He removes his arm from around Pavel to rub his eyes, but Pavel whimpers again and squiggles back against McCoy's hard cock.
He decides to hate himself in the morning.
McCoy reaches off the bed to grab a towel, which proves difficult with a squirming sleepy ensign addicted to his touch and determined to keep him close. He tosses the towel toward the wall as he pulls down the sheets, running his hands down Pavel's side to reach his boxers. He can't help but crack a smile when he sees the little antiquated rocket ships on Pavel's boxers, but another whine escapes Pavel, so McCoy reaches into the ensign's boxers and rubs his rapidly hardening prick. Pavel's muscles relaxes noticeably, so does Leonard's guilt about jerking off the kid in his sleep.
Leonard shimmies Pavel's boxers down his skinny legs, letting his free hand linger on a thigh while stroking Pavel's erection. Nuzzling against the ensign's neck, he pulls the warm lithe body closer to him and wraps a leg around Pavel as his strokes become faster. McCoy will never admit it to it, but he loves this, loves the smell on the back of Pavel's neck, loves how his cock fits perfectly against the groove of his ass, loves the taste of Pavel's tongue as it rubs against his own--
McCoy's eyes flash open when he feels Pavel running his tongue along his teeth, and he pulls back to see a drowsy navigator smiling at him. His hand stills on Pavel's hardness as his breath catches. Frowning, Pavel reaches down and laces his thin fingers through Leonard's sturdy digits.
“Nyet,” he breathes, sleep still heavy on his voice, “finish me.” McCoy relaxes and rolls Pavel onto his back, his hand returning to its previous familiar pace. Pavel stretches his arms up lazily, eyes closing, face going serene, an expression Leonard rarely sees on his face.
McCoy moves onto his side, throwing a leg back over Pavel's thighs and reaching his mouth up to grab the shell of Pavel's exposed ear between his teeth. Letting out a hollow moan, Pavel hitches and cants his hips up to meet the doctor's strokes. McCoy feels a sharp tug on his hair--Pavel's trigger--and pushes Pavel's prick on his stomach as he finishes. Humming contently, Pavel's body goes liquid against the bed as McCoy reaches for the towel near the wall. He's not sure if the ensign is awake as he cleans up Pavel's torso.
“I hit my cheek,” Pavel lilts groggily, arms still stretched above his head. McCoy can't help but crack a wolfish smile as he licks the offending come off Pavel's cheek, then presses a quick peck to his lips. “What time is it?” Pavel asks, kicking his boxers off completely.
“It's so late it's early again,” McCoy replies, his voice gruff as he reaches down to grab a blanket. “Go back to sleep.” Rolling over, Pavel grumbles in what sounds like disagreement and scoots down the bed. A gasp struggles out of McCoy's throat as he feels pulsating tightness of Pavel's deft fingers, followed by the familiar slickness of his tongue.
It's over with quickly--he's still reeling from earlier--and he manages to come mostly on his chest. He quickly wipes it off and throws the towel to the floor. Pavel's eyes are closed and his lips are curved into a slight yet satisfied smile. McCoy sighs and kisses him on the forehead before curling back around him. He falls asleep quicker than usual, listening to Pavel's heartbeat.
Characters: McCoy/Chekov (Star Trek.)
Summary: McCoy can't sleep with an Ensign squiggling against him. A good ol' fashioned PWP.
A/N: Goodness, it's been a long time. But you know what? I'm contributing to a slash movement that's like 40 years in the making. This is AWESOME. I'm part of history.
Disclaimer: This did not happen. Negative. Sorry.
Pavel usually sleeps soundly, curled up on his side, one of Leonard's arms around his waist. He prefers sleeping next to the wall the bed is pushed against, something McCoy knows he shouldn't think into, but he does anyway when he can't sleep. He wonders if Pavel's bedroom in Russia was small like the quarters on the ship, or if it's one of his idiosyncrasy he's only recent discovered. Sometimes he hopes the habit doesn't have a dark origin, but he tries to steer his thoughts away from those instincts. Besides, Leonard likes sleeping on the outer side of the bed, his chin burrowed the younger man's hair.
But tonight, it's different; Pavel keeps fidgeting in his sleep, shallowly and lightly kicking, barely missing the wall. He raises his head up to look at Pavel's face, eyes adjusting to the darkness. His facial muscles are twitching, worrying McCoy. He leans down to nuzzle Pavel's neck behind his neck, inhaling his scent, and he tenses his grip slightly.
“Pavel,” McCoy murmurers, not wanting to wake him, but hoping it calms his body down. Pavel bucks his hips back, his ass rubbing against McCoy's thighs. He bites his lip, not wanting to wake the sleeping ensign, but his boxers are feeling mighty tight. Pressing a kiss to Pavel's head, he snuggles back up to him and tries to fall back asleep.
His efforts are quickly thwarted as Pavel starts mumbling. McCoy can't make out actual words at first, but he continues to listen until the words start to make sense.
“Leo,” he hears Pavel whimper as he lets out a big kick, followed by a wanton moan. “Harder, need...” His voice trails off, but McCoy has a pretty good idea what he's dreaming about. He removes his arm from around Pavel to rub his eyes, but Pavel whimpers again and squiggles back against McCoy's hard cock.
He decides to hate himself in the morning.
McCoy reaches off the bed to grab a towel, which proves difficult with a squirming sleepy ensign addicted to his touch and determined to keep him close. He tosses the towel toward the wall as he pulls down the sheets, running his hands down Pavel's side to reach his boxers. He can't help but crack a smile when he sees the little antiquated rocket ships on Pavel's boxers, but another whine escapes Pavel, so McCoy reaches into the ensign's boxers and rubs his rapidly hardening prick. Pavel's muscles relaxes noticeably, so does Leonard's guilt about jerking off the kid in his sleep.
Leonard shimmies Pavel's boxers down his skinny legs, letting his free hand linger on a thigh while stroking Pavel's erection. Nuzzling against the ensign's neck, he pulls the warm lithe body closer to him and wraps a leg around Pavel as his strokes become faster. McCoy will never admit it to it, but he loves this, loves the smell on the back of Pavel's neck, loves how his cock fits perfectly against the groove of his ass, loves the taste of Pavel's tongue as it rubs against his own--
McCoy's eyes flash open when he feels Pavel running his tongue along his teeth, and he pulls back to see a drowsy navigator smiling at him. His hand stills on Pavel's hardness as his breath catches. Frowning, Pavel reaches down and laces his thin fingers through Leonard's sturdy digits.
“Nyet,” he breathes, sleep still heavy on his voice, “finish me.” McCoy relaxes and rolls Pavel onto his back, his hand returning to its previous familiar pace. Pavel stretches his arms up lazily, eyes closing, face going serene, an expression Leonard rarely sees on his face.
McCoy moves onto his side, throwing a leg back over Pavel's thighs and reaching his mouth up to grab the shell of Pavel's exposed ear between his teeth. Letting out a hollow moan, Pavel hitches and cants his hips up to meet the doctor's strokes. McCoy feels a sharp tug on his hair--Pavel's trigger--and pushes Pavel's prick on his stomach as he finishes. Humming contently, Pavel's body goes liquid against the bed as McCoy reaches for the towel near the wall. He's not sure if the ensign is awake as he cleans up Pavel's torso.
“I hit my cheek,” Pavel lilts groggily, arms still stretched above his head. McCoy can't help but crack a wolfish smile as he licks the offending come off Pavel's cheek, then presses a quick peck to his lips. “What time is it?” Pavel asks, kicking his boxers off completely.
“It's so late it's early again,” McCoy replies, his voice gruff as he reaches down to grab a blanket. “Go back to sleep.” Rolling over, Pavel grumbles in what sounds like disagreement and scoots down the bed. A gasp struggles out of McCoy's throat as he feels pulsating tightness of Pavel's deft fingers, followed by the familiar slickness of his tongue.
It's over with quickly--he's still reeling from earlier--and he manages to come mostly on his chest. He quickly wipes it off and throws the towel to the floor. Pavel's eyes are closed and his lips are curved into a slight yet satisfied smile. McCoy sighs and kisses him on the forehead before curling back around him. He falls asleep quicker than usual, listening to Pavel's heartbeat.