fic: Breathing's Just A Rhythm (ST: AOS)
Title: Breathing's Just A Rhythm
Fandom: Star Trek: AOS
Rating: Adult (for sexual content)
Pairing(s): Kirk/Sulu
Notes: For maypirate. 1,440 words.
Summary: The aging Kel of Balandaa makes Kirk an offer. Sulu thinks he should refuse (Kel Jim has an awful ring to it). Kirk is oddly ambivalent.
This is a sight he’ll never forget: James T. Kirk standing naked by the window, watching the setting sun wash the spires and domes of Balandaa City in shades of rose and crimson. What makes it so spectacular - Sulu has been here before and seen the sunset, though never from the Imperial Palace - is the perfect awe on Kirk’s face. He’s never seen anything like this, a city the size of a continent, hewn from living rock. From space, the whole thing looks like one gigantic jewel, a multi-faceted ruby fit for the crown of a god.
Sulu feels like a god as he stretches on the silk sheets and watches Kirk. The tips of his hair and his eyelashes are like tiny licks of flame in the deep red light. His eyes are in shadow, but his lips curl in thoughtful consideration as he gazes down at the city.
“Tell me you’re not actually considering it,” Sulu says at length.
“What?”
“Some day,” he intones, “all this will be yours.”
Kirk tilts his head to give him a half-smile. “Kel Jim has a nice ring to it.”
“Actually, it sounds kind of idiotic.”
“Kel James?”
“Worse.”
Kirk cocks an eyebrow at him. “You know, you’re not showing a whole lot of respect for my authority.”
“What authority?” Sulu pushes himself up on one elbow and smirks. “Are we in uniform? Are we on the bridge? Which one of us was just whimpering Sulu, Sulu, with his hands around his ankles?”
It’s not a trick of the light: Kirk blushes. Then he crosses his arms over his chest and sticks his chin out like a belligerent child. “I bet there’s a dungeon around here somewhere.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I bet there’s room in it for your skinny ass.”
“Wow, I’m amazed,” Sulu remarks in a deadpan voice. “You’re not even kel yet, and you’re already completely corrupt.”
Kirk rolls his eyes. “Not completely.” Then he drops his arms and bounds across the room, taking a flying leap onto the bed. Sulu yelps - very manfully - and rolls away to avoid being squashed. Kirk pounces, and they wrestle, getting tangled up in the silk sheets and each other.
Kirk’s a fighter, no question. In any emergency situation that calls for hand-to-hand combat, whether it’s angry future Romulans, drunken Klingons, or dinosaur-men with spears, Sulu is always glad to have his captain at his side. When they spar in the Enterprise gymnasium, Kirk is a worthy opponent. Just now, though, he’s like a puppy, all warm and wriggly, and Sulu has him facedown and pinned in under two minutes.
“Surrender?” Sulu suggests, his lips close to Kirk’s ear.
“Fuck, no.” But instead of trying to break Sulu’s hold, he widens his legs and arches his back, lifting his ass. It isn’t a submissive pose: it’s Kirk utilizing his secret weapon. Sulu yields graciously, releasing his arm and curling over him. Starting with his nape, he kisses his way down Kirk’s back, eliciting shivers and the occasional growl when he nips gently.
“You’re respecting me now,” Kirk says in a breathy tone.
In response, Sulu buries two fingers inside him and twists. Kirk’s body tenses and he breathes out harshly, but Sulu strokes soothing circles into his lower back and gradually he relaxes. He’s still slick and open from Round One, but Sulu gropes for the lube anyway because he loves messing with Kirk, but he wouldn’t hurt him for the world. Any world.
“You don’t want to be kel of Balandaa,” Sulu says through clenched teeth as he replaces his fingers with his cock. He tries to go slowly, but Kirk pushes back and clenches around him, and God, sliding into him is like breaking atmo. It’s exhilarating, almost dizzying, and he just wants to push forward as hard as he can, as fast as he can.
“Why the hell not? I’d be a good kel.” He already sounds half-wrecked.
“I’m sure.” Sulu grips Kirk’s hips to hold him steady while he thrusts.
Round Two doesn’t last long. Kirk starts stroking himself and muttering the kind of exquisite filth that never fails to short-circuit Sulu’s brain: fuck me, c’mon, you love it, push me harder, make me take it, break me-
They collapse in a sticky tangle, Sulu’s arms around Kirk’s chest, his hips juddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Afterward, they lie still for a few minutes, breathing together raggedly. Then Kirk makes a small groan of discomfort and shifts, so Sulu raises himself slightly, slipping out of him, but he doesn’t let go.
“I’d be a good kel,” Kirk says at length, his voice low and rough.
“Are we having a serious conversation?” Sulu isn’t sure he’s up for a serious conversation, but Kirk just shrugs his shoulders. Sulu sighs. “You’d hate it. C’mon, you know you’d be miserable here. Yeah, the sunsets are fucking awesome, but you’d only get to go anywhere for diplomatic functions and you hate those.” Stroking Kirk’s back, he frowns. “I know what this is about.”
“No, you don’t.”
Sulu does, in fact, but he bites his lip. He heard what the old kel said to Kirk after the banquet, just before they escaped up here: I’m old and childless. I look at you, and I glimpse the son I never had. Yeah, that would fuck Kirk up, but Sulu isn’t going to say it. If he did, they might have to have a really serious conversation, one that neither of them is ready for. They might have to finally address the fact that they never call each other by their first names, or that one of them is captain of the flagship while the other is just a lieutenant.
But tightening his arms around Kirk is safe enough. So is kissing his neck and whispering half-teasingly, “You’d miss me. I fly you to some pretty cool places, admit it. You’d miss that.”
Kirk is quiet for a moment. Then he laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. Anyway, I wasn’t really considering it. Can you imagine what Starfleet Command would say? Or Spock? Or Bones? ‘Damn it, man,’” he continues in a fair imitation of Doctor McCoy, “‘nobody altered history so you could become Kel of Balandaa. That’s not your destiny.’”
“Do you believe in destiny?” Sulu asks, genuinely curious.
“No,” Kirk says, but the answer comes far too quickly and emphatically; Sulu doesn’t believe him.
Still, there’s no point in arguing. Anyway, the sun is down and the sky and city are now the same deep, deep wine-red. The air has cooled considerably. Sulu shivers. He can tell that Kirk is cold too, from the goose bumps on his arms and the tension in his jaw as Sulu kisses him again.
“Stay there,” he says.
“Not moving,” Kirk mutters.
“Right.” Sulu untangles their limbs and rolls off the bed. His knees wobble as he crosses to the bathroom, but he manages not to fall over. He finds a towel, holds a corner of it under warm tap water for a few seconds, then carries it back to the bed.
Kirk hasn’t moved. He continues to lie quietly while Sulu cleans him off. It’s a little weird, but so is Kirk. At least he comes back to life when Sulu climbs into bed with him, tugging the blanket up and tucking it around their shoulders, cocooning them in warmth. Kirk squeezes Sulu’s biceps and nudges a knee between his thighs. There’s a flash of white as he smiles. Then he mashes their mouths together in a kiss so fierce it makes stars dance behind Sulu’s eyes.
Sulu puts a hand on Kirk’s chest, not to stop him or push him away, but to keep himself from falling forward as the bed seems to tilt like an upended chessboard. He can feel Kirk’s heart racing.
Then it’s over. Kirk pulls away, leaving Sulu panting, and the world slowly rights itself.
What was that all about? he wants to ask, but Kirk rolls onto his side, taking a corner of the blanket with him.
He stares at the back of Kirk’s neck and shoulders for a moment or two. Then he shakes his head. Kirk is weird.
They’ll be leaving this planet in the morning. On toward their next adventure.
Sulu sinks back against the sheets and closes his eyes.
10/23/10
Fandom: Star Trek: AOS
Rating: Adult (for sexual content)
Pairing(s): Kirk/Sulu
Notes: For maypirate. 1,440 words.
Summary: The aging Kel of Balandaa makes Kirk an offer. Sulu thinks he should refuse (Kel Jim has an awful ring to it). Kirk is oddly ambivalent.
This is a sight he’ll never forget: James T. Kirk standing naked by the window, watching the setting sun wash the spires and domes of Balandaa City in shades of rose and crimson. What makes it so spectacular - Sulu has been here before and seen the sunset, though never from the Imperial Palace - is the perfect awe on Kirk’s face. He’s never seen anything like this, a city the size of a continent, hewn from living rock. From space, the whole thing looks like one gigantic jewel, a multi-faceted ruby fit for the crown of a god.
Sulu feels like a god as he stretches on the silk sheets and watches Kirk. The tips of his hair and his eyelashes are like tiny licks of flame in the deep red light. His eyes are in shadow, but his lips curl in thoughtful consideration as he gazes down at the city.
“Tell me you’re not actually considering it,” Sulu says at length.
“What?”
“Some day,” he intones, “all this will be yours.”
Kirk tilts his head to give him a half-smile. “Kel Jim has a nice ring to it.”
“Actually, it sounds kind of idiotic.”
“Kel James?”
“Worse.”
Kirk cocks an eyebrow at him. “You know, you’re not showing a whole lot of respect for my authority.”
“What authority?” Sulu pushes himself up on one elbow and smirks. “Are we in uniform? Are we on the bridge? Which one of us was just whimpering Sulu, Sulu, with his hands around his ankles?”
It’s not a trick of the light: Kirk blushes. Then he crosses his arms over his chest and sticks his chin out like a belligerent child. “I bet there’s a dungeon around here somewhere.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I bet there’s room in it for your skinny ass.”
“Wow, I’m amazed,” Sulu remarks in a deadpan voice. “You’re not even kel yet, and you’re already completely corrupt.”
Kirk rolls his eyes. “Not completely.” Then he drops his arms and bounds across the room, taking a flying leap onto the bed. Sulu yelps - very manfully - and rolls away to avoid being squashed. Kirk pounces, and they wrestle, getting tangled up in the silk sheets and each other.
Kirk’s a fighter, no question. In any emergency situation that calls for hand-to-hand combat, whether it’s angry future Romulans, drunken Klingons, or dinosaur-men with spears, Sulu is always glad to have his captain at his side. When they spar in the Enterprise gymnasium, Kirk is a worthy opponent. Just now, though, he’s like a puppy, all warm and wriggly, and Sulu has him facedown and pinned in under two minutes.
“Surrender?” Sulu suggests, his lips close to Kirk’s ear.
“Fuck, no.” But instead of trying to break Sulu’s hold, he widens his legs and arches his back, lifting his ass. It isn’t a submissive pose: it’s Kirk utilizing his secret weapon. Sulu yields graciously, releasing his arm and curling over him. Starting with his nape, he kisses his way down Kirk’s back, eliciting shivers and the occasional growl when he nips gently.
“You’re respecting me now,” Kirk says in a breathy tone.
In response, Sulu buries two fingers inside him and twists. Kirk’s body tenses and he breathes out harshly, but Sulu strokes soothing circles into his lower back and gradually he relaxes. He’s still slick and open from Round One, but Sulu gropes for the lube anyway because he loves messing with Kirk, but he wouldn’t hurt him for the world. Any world.
“You don’t want to be kel of Balandaa,” Sulu says through clenched teeth as he replaces his fingers with his cock. He tries to go slowly, but Kirk pushes back and clenches around him, and God, sliding into him is like breaking atmo. It’s exhilarating, almost dizzying, and he just wants to push forward as hard as he can, as fast as he can.
“Why the hell not? I’d be a good kel.” He already sounds half-wrecked.
“I’m sure.” Sulu grips Kirk’s hips to hold him steady while he thrusts.
Round Two doesn’t last long. Kirk starts stroking himself and muttering the kind of exquisite filth that never fails to short-circuit Sulu’s brain: fuck me, c’mon, you love it, push me harder, make me take it, break me-
They collapse in a sticky tangle, Sulu’s arms around Kirk’s chest, his hips juddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Afterward, they lie still for a few minutes, breathing together raggedly. Then Kirk makes a small groan of discomfort and shifts, so Sulu raises himself slightly, slipping out of him, but he doesn’t let go.
“I’d be a good kel,” Kirk says at length, his voice low and rough.
“Are we having a serious conversation?” Sulu isn’t sure he’s up for a serious conversation, but Kirk just shrugs his shoulders. Sulu sighs. “You’d hate it. C’mon, you know you’d be miserable here. Yeah, the sunsets are fucking awesome, but you’d only get to go anywhere for diplomatic functions and you hate those.” Stroking Kirk’s back, he frowns. “I know what this is about.”
“No, you don’t.”
Sulu does, in fact, but he bites his lip. He heard what the old kel said to Kirk after the banquet, just before they escaped up here: I’m old and childless. I look at you, and I glimpse the son I never had. Yeah, that would fuck Kirk up, but Sulu isn’t going to say it. If he did, they might have to have a really serious conversation, one that neither of them is ready for. They might have to finally address the fact that they never call each other by their first names, or that one of them is captain of the flagship while the other is just a lieutenant.
But tightening his arms around Kirk is safe enough. So is kissing his neck and whispering half-teasingly, “You’d miss me. I fly you to some pretty cool places, admit it. You’d miss that.”
Kirk is quiet for a moment. Then he laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. Anyway, I wasn’t really considering it. Can you imagine what Starfleet Command would say? Or Spock? Or Bones? ‘Damn it, man,’” he continues in a fair imitation of Doctor McCoy, “‘nobody altered history so you could become Kel of Balandaa. That’s not your destiny.’”
“Do you believe in destiny?” Sulu asks, genuinely curious.
“No,” Kirk says, but the answer comes far too quickly and emphatically; Sulu doesn’t believe him.
Still, there’s no point in arguing. Anyway, the sun is down and the sky and city are now the same deep, deep wine-red. The air has cooled considerably. Sulu shivers. He can tell that Kirk is cold too, from the goose bumps on his arms and the tension in his jaw as Sulu kisses him again.
“Stay there,” he says.
“Not moving,” Kirk mutters.
“Right.” Sulu untangles their limbs and rolls off the bed. His knees wobble as he crosses to the bathroom, but he manages not to fall over. He finds a towel, holds a corner of it under warm tap water for a few seconds, then carries it back to the bed.
Kirk hasn’t moved. He continues to lie quietly while Sulu cleans him off. It’s a little weird, but so is Kirk. At least he comes back to life when Sulu climbs into bed with him, tugging the blanket up and tucking it around their shoulders, cocooning them in warmth. Kirk squeezes Sulu’s biceps and nudges a knee between his thighs. There’s a flash of white as he smiles. Then he mashes their mouths together in a kiss so fierce it makes stars dance behind Sulu’s eyes.
Sulu puts a hand on Kirk’s chest, not to stop him or push him away, but to keep himself from falling forward as the bed seems to tilt like an upended chessboard. He can feel Kirk’s heart racing.
Then it’s over. Kirk pulls away, leaving Sulu panting, and the world slowly rights itself.
What was that all about? he wants to ask, but Kirk rolls onto his side, taking a corner of the blanket with him.
He stares at the back of Kirk’s neck and shoulders for a moment or two. Then he shakes his head. Kirk is weird.
They’ll be leaving this planet in the morning. On toward their next adventure.
Sulu sinks back against the sheets and closes his eyes.
10/23/10