Clingy (Star Trek RPF Fanfic)
Title: Clingy
Author: therumjournals
Fandom: Star Trek RPF
Pairing(s): Zach/JGroff, Zach/Chris
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,950
Warnings: Jonathan Groff, infidelity, unresolved Pinto angst <----
Summary: Chris isn’t over it.
A/N: House-hunting destroyed my soul, and I took it out on Pinto. I’m sorry! It won’t happen again - I hope.
They'd been talking comfortably, laughing for most of the evening, and it was during one of the rare pauses in conversation that Chris raised his bottle and said, "Seriously, Jonathan, it's awesome to finally meet you. You seem like a really cool guy."
"Thanks," Jonathan said, smiling. His eyes flicked over to Zach like he couldn't help it, and his smile morphed into something a little sappier.
"Zach's last boyfriend was kind of a clingy whackjob, so you're like a breath of fresh air."
"No he wasn't," Zach said, rolling his eyes.
"Mmmm, yeah, he kinda was," Chris countered. He took a long swig of beer and let Zach change the topic.
It wasn't until a while later, when Jonathan had excused himself to use the restroom, that Zach looked over at Chris and gave his shin a playful kick under the table.
"You weren't a clingy whackjob," Zach told him.
Chris gave him a half smile. "Yeah, I was."
"You were not! You let me have my space. You weren't clingy at all."
Chris looked away. "Yeah, well. I wanted to be."
**
The knock on the door was unexpected, but as soon as he heard the sharp rap of knuckles on wood, he knew. Knew that he would open the door to find Zach standing there, body tilted slightly forward in anticipation, a hungry look in his eyes. And he knew that there would be this moment between them, a tense second in which Zach asked with his eyes and Chris tried not to answer, and then it would be over and they would be colliding, lips and teeth and tongue, and hands seeking out skin. It was inevitable, and it was fucking stupid, and it was so deliriously hot, the way Zach was already pushing him down onto the couch, climbing on top of him, sliding a hand up under his shirt. Chris found himself analyzing, waiting, wondering when Zach would betray their delusion by doing something new, something different, something that wasn't his. But the moment never came, and it was as if no time had passed, as if it hadn't been almost a year since the last time Zach curled his fingers around Chris's cock, tugging at him with just the right amount of pressure. Zach's teeth scraping over his earlobe, the flick of a tongue against his neck, the way his voice went all husky when he murmured, "Want you so bad, Chris, wanna fuck you, I wanna see my big dick fucking into your ass," a steady, familiar stream of words, dirty and low and vibrating across his skin.
Chris groaned helplessly, and that was Zach’s cue to fumble for the lube, sliding a condom on as Chris kicked his way out of his jeans. Zach had a finger in him, then it was gone and the blunt head of his cock was pressing into him, and Chris squeezed hard at his shoulders to slow him down.
“Fuck, it’s been a while, Zach,” he gasped, but at the same time he was arching up off the couch to give Zach a better angle.
“Yeah. It has,” Zach agreed, and then he was all the way inside and he was moving, a slow push and pull that made Chris’s cock throb as he forgot about the pain. “Chris, I…ungh,” Zach started, grunting as he thrust, “just fucking…fuck,” his eyes were closed but his hands clutched at Chris’s hip and thigh, “fucking want you,” and Chris sucked in a breath as Zach’s hand closed around his cock again. He gave up then and let Zach hear the moan of pleasure he’d been holding back, surrendered breathy shouts as Zach pumped into him faster, bringing him closer to the edge.
Chris knew Zach would come first like always, and he was right - he saw Zach shudder and felt him thrust erratically through his climax. But Zach's hand never faltered, never stopped jerking him steadily toward completion as he panted, “Fuck, Chris, let me make you come-“ Chris told himself that it was the hand on his cock and not the desperation in Zach’s voice that made it happen, his orgasm ripping through him like wildfire and erupting from his dick in hot, ragged spurts.
There was a moment, right after that, when Zach was still inside him and the cum was still warm on his belly, that Chris wondered how Zach would break it to Jonathan. "I'm just not over him" or maybe "Chris and I are going to give it another shot." He had one more second to breathe in Zach's scent, to clutch at his shoulders and brush stuttering kisses across his jaw before reality crashed over him and he understood with devastating clarity what this was, and what it wasn't.
By the time Zach pulled out, Chris had decided what he was going to do. A dark, twisted feeling curled in the pit of his stomach.
"God, that felt fucking amazing," Zach said, rolling onto his side. He left his hand on Chris's chest, thumb idly stroking across his sternum. "I missed this."
"Yeah." Chris swallowed dryly. He set his hand over Zach's, knowing he shouldn't, tried to thread their fingers together before it was too late. Zach smiled and lifted their tangled hands to his mouth, bit lightly at Chris's knuckles, then extracted his fingers and sat up, pushing himself off the couch. The sweat was cooling on Chris's skin, and he tried not to shiver as he watched Zach pull on his clothes.
“We’re going down to South America for a few weeks, but I’ll see you when I get back,” Zach said, buckling his belt. Chris noticed that he hadn’t phrased it as a question, so he didn’t answer. Zach finished getting dressed and walked over to the couch. He bumped Chris’s leg with his knee. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Chris said, meeting his eyes. Zach nodded and turned, and Chris watched him leave the room without turning back.
Chris heard the door click shut. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up his phone.
**
The knock on the door was unexpected, but only because Chris had assumed Zach would go the route of an angry phone call instead of a face-to-face confrontation. He took a second to steel himself, and opened the door.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Zach's entire body was tensed in anger, his hands clenched into fists at his side.
Chris stood his ground. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, his voice slick with sarcasm. "Did I screw up your grand plan, to have your cake and fuck it, too?"
"Eat shit, Chris."
Chris gave him a little grin. "It's so cute that you really want to punch me right now, but you can't."
"Won't," Zach corrected.
"Sure."
"Why, Chris? I thought you liked him, I thought you wanted me to be happy!"
"I thought you liked him, Zach, I thought you were happy! Until I was quite unexpectedly and thoroughly proven otherwise last night." He could still feel Zach on him, inside him.
"That's not..." Zach gave a frustrated huff and crossed his arms. "I thought you understood what last night was about."
“You mean about you coming over here, getting what you wanted, and not giving a fuck what it did to me?"
“If you were so upset about the prospect, why didn’t you just tell me to leave?”
"Oh fuck you, Zach. You'd dangle a piece of chocolate cake in front of someone on a diet and then blame them for eating it."
"I wasn't dangling..."
"No, you weren't - you pushed the cake in my fucking face instead." And it tasted so damn good... "I went home, Zach. After seeing you again, I went home, alone, and I closed the fucking door and put it behind me. And it hurt, okay, and there was a moment that I wanted to punch Jonathan right in his pretty face, but I sucked it up and smiled, I did that for you. And then you come in here like it's your right…” Chris stopped and drew in a shaky breath. “I waited, like, a year for you to come in that door, Zach. I had just stopped waiting. So fuck you.”
"Why couldn't you just tell me that?" Zach yelled. "Why couldn't you just call me, and curse me out, or whatever the fuck you needed to do? Why did you need to tell him?" Zach looked so distressed that for a minute Chris braced himself for a twinge of guilt. None came.
"You think I feel bad, Zach?" Chris's voice was low now, seething with a quiet, bitter anger. "You think I feel bad that I might have ruined one relationship for you? Well, I don't. Because you have already ruined every fucking relationship that I will ever have."
Something like sympathy flickered in Zach’s eyes, then his brow furrowed in confusion. "So why would you do this? Why would you purposely ruin everything between us?"
"Whatever you imagined was still between us, Zach," Chris said, tired, "last night was its dying breath.”
“But why-“
“Because you can't just do whatever you want! There are consequences!"
"Don't fucking talk to me about consequences, Chris, I know there are consequences! I moved to New York, and I lost you. You've already schooled me in consequences."
"You didn't lose me, Zach, you left me,” Chris said incredulously.
"I didn't mean to-" Zach had a hand in his hair, tugging at in frustration. "Chris, it could have worked-“
“IT COULDN’T HAVE WORKED,” Chris yelled, advancing on Zach. He tried to shove him in the chest, but then he had a fistful of Zach’s t-shirt and he was pulling him closer instead. “It wouldn’t have worked,” he told him, his voice breaking as he tried to explain. “Because this is me, okay, this is who I am, I’m a clingy, needy bastard who thought - god, Zach, for one second last night I actually thought that you wanted me back, that we were going to-“ He trailed off, his fingers clenching and unclenching in Zach’s shirt as he fought to catch his breath. His face was hot and he was shaking.
“Chris.” Zach’s voice was soft and there was a hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him up to look into Zach’s eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know that you still…if I had known how you felt, I wouldn’t have come.” Chris turned his head, tried to push away, but Zach was holding him tightly. His lips brushed Chris’s temple. “I just missed you. It was stupid, but I missed you, and I thought maybe we could still have…something.”
“We can’t, Zach,” Chris murmured. “Not like that. It’s not enough.”
“Yeah,” Zach breathed. “I kinda got that after you texted my boyfriend and told on me. Asshole.” He pulled back to look into Chris’s eyes. “We’re never going to be together, Chris. Not like before. You know that, right?”
Chris nodded. A strangely relieved feeling uncoiled in his chest, holding off the ache of grief, for the moment.
Zach’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he glanced down. “That’s probably Jonathan,” Zach said. “I need to go talk to him.”
"Yeah. You should do that.” Chris tried unsuccessfully to extract himself from Zach’s grip. “Let me go.”
Zach cocked his head. “I feel like there’s something strangely symbolic in that request.”
Chris rolled his eyes and gave Zach a hard shove in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards through the open doorway with a surprised look on his face.
“So I guess that’s goodbye?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Chris found it easier than he would have thought to answer him. “Get the hell out of here, Quinto. I need my fucking space.”
Author: therumjournals
Fandom: Star Trek RPF
Pairing(s): Zach/JGroff, Zach/Chris
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,950
Warnings: Jonathan Groff, infidelity, unresolved Pinto angst <----
Summary: Chris isn’t over it.
A/N: House-hunting destroyed my soul, and I took it out on Pinto. I’m sorry! It won’t happen again - I hope.
They'd been talking comfortably, laughing for most of the evening, and it was during one of the rare pauses in conversation that Chris raised his bottle and said, "Seriously, Jonathan, it's awesome to finally meet you. You seem like a really cool guy."
"Thanks," Jonathan said, smiling. His eyes flicked over to Zach like he couldn't help it, and his smile morphed into something a little sappier.
"Zach's last boyfriend was kind of a clingy whackjob, so you're like a breath of fresh air."
"No he wasn't," Zach said, rolling his eyes.
"Mmmm, yeah, he kinda was," Chris countered. He took a long swig of beer and let Zach change the topic.
It wasn't until a while later, when Jonathan had excused himself to use the restroom, that Zach looked over at Chris and gave his shin a playful kick under the table.
"You weren't a clingy whackjob," Zach told him.
Chris gave him a half smile. "Yeah, I was."
"You were not! You let me have my space. You weren't clingy at all."
Chris looked away. "Yeah, well. I wanted to be."
**
The knock on the door was unexpected, but as soon as he heard the sharp rap of knuckles on wood, he knew. Knew that he would open the door to find Zach standing there, body tilted slightly forward in anticipation, a hungry look in his eyes. And he knew that there would be this moment between them, a tense second in which Zach asked with his eyes and Chris tried not to answer, and then it would be over and they would be colliding, lips and teeth and tongue, and hands seeking out skin. It was inevitable, and it was fucking stupid, and it was so deliriously hot, the way Zach was already pushing him down onto the couch, climbing on top of him, sliding a hand up under his shirt. Chris found himself analyzing, waiting, wondering when Zach would betray their delusion by doing something new, something different, something that wasn't his. But the moment never came, and it was as if no time had passed, as if it hadn't been almost a year since the last time Zach curled his fingers around Chris's cock, tugging at him with just the right amount of pressure. Zach's teeth scraping over his earlobe, the flick of a tongue against his neck, the way his voice went all husky when he murmured, "Want you so bad, Chris, wanna fuck you, I wanna see my big dick fucking into your ass," a steady, familiar stream of words, dirty and low and vibrating across his skin.
Chris groaned helplessly, and that was Zach’s cue to fumble for the lube, sliding a condom on as Chris kicked his way out of his jeans. Zach had a finger in him, then it was gone and the blunt head of his cock was pressing into him, and Chris squeezed hard at his shoulders to slow him down.
“Fuck, it’s been a while, Zach,” he gasped, but at the same time he was arching up off the couch to give Zach a better angle.
“Yeah. It has,” Zach agreed, and then he was all the way inside and he was moving, a slow push and pull that made Chris’s cock throb as he forgot about the pain. “Chris, I…ungh,” Zach started, grunting as he thrust, “just fucking…fuck,” his eyes were closed but his hands clutched at Chris’s hip and thigh, “fucking want you,” and Chris sucked in a breath as Zach’s hand closed around his cock again. He gave up then and let Zach hear the moan of pleasure he’d been holding back, surrendered breathy shouts as Zach pumped into him faster, bringing him closer to the edge.
Chris knew Zach would come first like always, and he was right - he saw Zach shudder and felt him thrust erratically through his climax. But Zach's hand never faltered, never stopped jerking him steadily toward completion as he panted, “Fuck, Chris, let me make you come-“ Chris told himself that it was the hand on his cock and not the desperation in Zach’s voice that made it happen, his orgasm ripping through him like wildfire and erupting from his dick in hot, ragged spurts.
There was a moment, right after that, when Zach was still inside him and the cum was still warm on his belly, that Chris wondered how Zach would break it to Jonathan. "I'm just not over him" or maybe "Chris and I are going to give it another shot." He had one more second to breathe in Zach's scent, to clutch at his shoulders and brush stuttering kisses across his jaw before reality crashed over him and he understood with devastating clarity what this was, and what it wasn't.
By the time Zach pulled out, Chris had decided what he was going to do. A dark, twisted feeling curled in the pit of his stomach.
"God, that felt fucking amazing," Zach said, rolling onto his side. He left his hand on Chris's chest, thumb idly stroking across his sternum. "I missed this."
"Yeah." Chris swallowed dryly. He set his hand over Zach's, knowing he shouldn't, tried to thread their fingers together before it was too late. Zach smiled and lifted their tangled hands to his mouth, bit lightly at Chris's knuckles, then extracted his fingers and sat up, pushing himself off the couch. The sweat was cooling on Chris's skin, and he tried not to shiver as he watched Zach pull on his clothes.
“We’re going down to South America for a few weeks, but I’ll see you when I get back,” Zach said, buckling his belt. Chris noticed that he hadn’t phrased it as a question, so he didn’t answer. Zach finished getting dressed and walked over to the couch. He bumped Chris’s leg with his knee. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Chris said, meeting his eyes. Zach nodded and turned, and Chris watched him leave the room without turning back.
Chris heard the door click shut. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up his phone.
**
The knock on the door was unexpected, but only because Chris had assumed Zach would go the route of an angry phone call instead of a face-to-face confrontation. He took a second to steel himself, and opened the door.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Zach's entire body was tensed in anger, his hands clenched into fists at his side.
Chris stood his ground. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, his voice slick with sarcasm. "Did I screw up your grand plan, to have your cake and fuck it, too?"
"Eat shit, Chris."
Chris gave him a little grin. "It's so cute that you really want to punch me right now, but you can't."
"Won't," Zach corrected.
"Sure."
"Why, Chris? I thought you liked him, I thought you wanted me to be happy!"
"I thought you liked him, Zach, I thought you were happy! Until I was quite unexpectedly and thoroughly proven otherwise last night." He could still feel Zach on him, inside him.
"That's not..." Zach gave a frustrated huff and crossed his arms. "I thought you understood what last night was about."
“You mean about you coming over here, getting what you wanted, and not giving a fuck what it did to me?"
“If you were so upset about the prospect, why didn’t you just tell me to leave?”
"Oh fuck you, Zach. You'd dangle a piece of chocolate cake in front of someone on a diet and then blame them for eating it."
"I wasn't dangling..."
"No, you weren't - you pushed the cake in my fucking face instead." And it tasted so damn good... "I went home, Zach. After seeing you again, I went home, alone, and I closed the fucking door and put it behind me. And it hurt, okay, and there was a moment that I wanted to punch Jonathan right in his pretty face, but I sucked it up and smiled, I did that for you. And then you come in here like it's your right…” Chris stopped and drew in a shaky breath. “I waited, like, a year for you to come in that door, Zach. I had just stopped waiting. So fuck you.”
"Why couldn't you just tell me that?" Zach yelled. "Why couldn't you just call me, and curse me out, or whatever the fuck you needed to do? Why did you need to tell him?" Zach looked so distressed that for a minute Chris braced himself for a twinge of guilt. None came.
"You think I feel bad, Zach?" Chris's voice was low now, seething with a quiet, bitter anger. "You think I feel bad that I might have ruined one relationship for you? Well, I don't. Because you have already ruined every fucking relationship that I will ever have."
Something like sympathy flickered in Zach’s eyes, then his brow furrowed in confusion. "So why would you do this? Why would you purposely ruin everything between us?"
"Whatever you imagined was still between us, Zach," Chris said, tired, "last night was its dying breath.”
“But why-“
“Because you can't just do whatever you want! There are consequences!"
"Don't fucking talk to me about consequences, Chris, I know there are consequences! I moved to New York, and I lost you. You've already schooled me in consequences."
"You didn't lose me, Zach, you left me,” Chris said incredulously.
"I didn't mean to-" Zach had a hand in his hair, tugging at in frustration. "Chris, it could have worked-“
“IT COULDN’T HAVE WORKED,” Chris yelled, advancing on Zach. He tried to shove him in the chest, but then he had a fistful of Zach’s t-shirt and he was pulling him closer instead. “It wouldn’t have worked,” he told him, his voice breaking as he tried to explain. “Because this is me, okay, this is who I am, I’m a clingy, needy bastard who thought - god, Zach, for one second last night I actually thought that you wanted me back, that we were going to-“ He trailed off, his fingers clenching and unclenching in Zach’s shirt as he fought to catch his breath. His face was hot and he was shaking.
“Chris.” Zach’s voice was soft and there was a hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him up to look into Zach’s eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know that you still…if I had known how you felt, I wouldn’t have come.” Chris turned his head, tried to push away, but Zach was holding him tightly. His lips brushed Chris’s temple. “I just missed you. It was stupid, but I missed you, and I thought maybe we could still have…something.”
“We can’t, Zach,” Chris murmured. “Not like that. It’s not enough.”
“Yeah,” Zach breathed. “I kinda got that after you texted my boyfriend and told on me. Asshole.” He pulled back to look into Chris’s eyes. “We’re never going to be together, Chris. Not like before. You know that, right?”
Chris nodded. A strangely relieved feeling uncoiled in his chest, holding off the ache of grief, for the moment.
Zach’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he glanced down. “That’s probably Jonathan,” Zach said. “I need to go talk to him.”
"Yeah. You should do that.” Chris tried unsuccessfully to extract himself from Zach’s grip. “Let me go.”
Zach cocked his head. “I feel like there’s something strangely symbolic in that request.”
Chris rolled his eyes and gave Zach a hard shove in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards through the open doorway with a surprised look on his face.
“So I guess that’s goodbye?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Chris found it easier than he would have thought to answer him. “Get the hell out of here, Quinto. I need my fucking space.”