Title: Waiting Three Months To Learn What You Didn't Sign On For
Author:![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
calicokat
Beta:black_regalia
Pairing: Bones/Chekov
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "'Lover.' 'Boyfriend'...You guys are serious about this, aren't you?"
Notes: Sequel to "James T. Kirk Will Not Be Dissuaded." Part five in a series. Thanks todirty_smudge for invaluable help in realizing this story.
Star Trek and all related properties © and TM 2009 CBS Studios Inc. and are used without permission.
Waiting Three Months To Learn What You Didn't Sign On For
bycalicokat
It hadn't been a week since he'd walked in on Pavel and McCoy before Jim Kirk sidled up and took a seat across from Pavel in mess.
"Pavel, you sly dog."
Pavel felt the heat ramp up in his cheeks.
"Keptin."
Kirk held out a stilling hand.
"Jim – it's Jim. I definitely insist."
"Leo's already varned me about you, Jim," Pavel demurred, politely.
"Leo has, has he?"
Pavel composed himself, leaning in over his plate with the pretense of confidentiality. The captain leaned in turn.
"He said, 'Jim is a gossip. He vill vant to know vhat we do in bed, and he vill maybe giggle.'"
Jim's face split into a grin.
"I do! I will. Tell me everything."
Pavel ducked his head, laughing quietly, shyness surging.
"I do not think so, no."
"Come on, man. It's my duty above and beyond my commission as captain to make Bones's every waking moment as embarrassing as possible. That's what friends do!"
Confusion clouded Pavel's features.
"But why vould I do that to my lover?"
Jim quirked his brow, aimlessly chasing his food around his plate with his fork.
"'Lover.' 'Boyfriend'...You guys are serious about this, aren't you?"
Pavel's stomach twisted with surprise. Something caught in his chest. Along with a burst of endorphins, he found it difficult to breathe.
"…he has called me his boyfriend?"
Jim softened, backing off on the keen intent in his expression. He wore a kinder smile, now.
"Yeah. He may have said that."
Pavel could feel his pulse in his cheeks. He grinned ear to ear, suddenly happy that Kirk had chosen to eat with him. Kirk laughed, sitting back and running his fingers through his hair, flashing a flirty, appreciative smile.
"—oh, man, you're too cute. You're a hazard."
Pavel's eyes slid away as he colored even more with the compliment. He could actually see why people slept with Jim Kirk even when they knew it couldn't last. He felt good. No – incredible. The thought of McCoy calling him a 'boyfriend' brightened his spirits and his heart.
"So, I have one question," Jim warned, wicked teasing sneaking back into his bright blue eyes. "Are you going to tap that ass?"
Pavel sputtered, eyes widening, gaze frozen on Jim. He dimly remembered McCoy muttering something strange and off two nights before.
"You do know if you ever, you know, wanted to…" McCoy trailed off, tracing absent circles on Pavel's shoulder.
Pavel roused himself drowsily.
"Do vhat?" he asked amid a yawn.
McCoy kissed his curly head.
"Ah…nevermind."
He looked down at his plate, scooping up a mouthful of steamed vegetables to buy himself some time and chewing slowly until the soft food turned to mush.
"Keptin—…Jim. I think that is private. A private matter."
"Right," Jim agreed with his own mouth full. He took a chug of his drink to clear his throat. "A private matter – between you, Bones, God…and me."
Pavel admitted to himself it was some kind of relief that Jim had waited until Sulu was eating on a different shift to approach him, when he took most of his meals with the American helmsman.
"I don't mind being, how do you say – 'on the bottom,'" Pavel pointed out, struggling with his embarrassment. He respected Jim as the captain of the Enterprise and his superior officer. He had difficulty reconciling that with the young man's intimate questions on his sex life, where he felt compelled to answer him and to explain himself but also a little exploited. "Besides, it vould be strange to do that to Doctor McCoy."
"Exactly. That's exactly what I thought," Jim declared proudly, looking all too self-satisfied. "And why is that?"
Pavel stared at Jim in incomprehension, but his mind latched onto the question and he chased it down the circuitous path to its conclusion like any other, more mathematical problem.
"Because he is older. Older than I am," Pavel admitted disquietly.
Jim looked just like Pavel's proud parents when the Russian youth graduated high school at twelve.
"But being thirty-one has nothing to do with how you take it in the bedroom, and being seventeen definitely means trying to stick it in anything warm," he declared, all-knowing.
Pavel gawked.
"Keptin!"
Jim held his hands up in self-defense.
"Think about it?" he flirted playfully.
Pavel grabbed his drink and drank until his face began to cool, only wishing it was neat, eighty-proof Russian vodka. He panted to catch his breath as he sat the empty mug down firmly next to his plate. Jim looked impressed.
"—I vill eat my lunch now, Keptin," he declared, sticking his fork into it and deciding if he ignored Jim the captain might find something to distract him. The fact that half the mess hall was staring at him after his outburst and display of drinking expediency prickled on his skin.
"You're right. It's getting cold," Jim agreed without a trace of shame or regret, attacking his own meal with all due enthusiasm.
Pavel's head spun a little when he tried to contemplate the proposition Jim had set forth. He had taken a lover before, not just been receptive to his partners' affection. Leonard, though—…The doctor occupied a special echelon, and when Pavel contemplated him it always invoked the same sense of shelter and security.
He wondered why McCoy hadn't made the offer in bed when he verged on it, before. He doesn't think you're capable, was the insecure assumption of a teenage boy, and a pang of insecurity throbbed through his heart. Pavel forced himself to consider the alternatives, working his way through his meal and almost forgetting Jim still sat across from him.
First of all, McCoy probably wouldn't have brought it up at all if that was the case. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that his lover didn't want to pressure him into assuming a more dominant role in their partnership than he took of his own accord or make him feel something was lacking if they didn't test their boundaries, whatever Leonard might be willing to try.
McCoy rarely asked anything out of him at all, the doctor a man accustomed to placing the concerns of others above his own, when he even recognized his own. Pavel had relied on patience and observation to discover his lover's needs and interests since he first extended the invitation for sex in the sickbay, months back.
His eyes focused on Jim, who he recognized had been watching him surreptitiously for awhile. He offered a happy smile to the older young man.
"Even if you are a gossip and annoy my lover – thank you."
Kirk laughed, dropping an easy wink.
"Have a good time, tiger."
____
Bones McCoy entered his quarters with his eyes on the PADD in front of him, preoccupied with reviewing the work of his subordinates and the medical records of his own patients one more time, in case he'd missed something. When his thoughts slipped back, he could still remember his first day on the job as Chief Medical Officer: the sweet and sickening, skin like tanned leather and the stench of charred flesh and sulfurous smell of burnt hair, the screams of the injured and the dying and the blood on his hands that didn't scrub out from under his nails for four days. The job since had yet to compare to those first few brutal hours, but lives still hung in the balance every time he picked up a laser scalpel or sonic separator and sometimes, unexpectedly, from somebody's anaphylactic reaction to lunch from the food slot or a slip and a resulting concussion in engineering. The last cause of mortality he wanted to add was clerical error.
It took him a few moments to register Pavel Chekov was sitting in his desk chair, fiddling on the desktop monitor. In fact, he only stopped and squinted at the teenager before he almost sat on him.
"Need your desk?" the Russian offered, in a good mood – but it'd only be remarkable if he wasn't.
"No," McCoy assuaged, glancing at the empty chair on the other side of his desk and stepping around to take a seat there.
Pavel went back to browsing whatever it was teenagers looked at on the subspace network, these days, and McCoy continued his review – although, honestly, at this point, other priorities might have crept in.
In some ways, McCoy missed the simplicity of the three months before he'd started viewing his relationship with the ensign with some sort of gravity. That had been five days, now. He'd practically marked each one off on the calendar. He was damn grateful, for the second time in four days, that he had a PADD to pretend to read. He considered making a habit of always carrying one. They certainly facilitated avoiding direct human interactions.
Pavel. Somehow, and not with his express permission, all 3 kilograms (or less) of the skinny Russian had become his significant other. That was a mental marker more than an official classification, but it made McCoy no less uncomfortable. It took Pavel from the position of an occasional distraction to an individual McCoy took full responsibility for the emotional well being of. He already had the physical well being of the entire ship on his hands.
At least, when it came to Pavel, there was a certain degree of reciprocation.
McCoy could be candid with himself: it was that that scared the fuck out of him.
The idea of Pavel sitting across his desk thinking things about him and, worse, knowing things about him had started to dismantle everything that had protected him through the past five years, since the death of his father. Pavel had begun to dismantle the hardening of his defenses that had ultimately driven away his wife and stolen his daughter and made him harder, yet.
Thing was, though, he just couldn't justify letting a seventeen year old shoulder the weight of the particular cross he bore.
"Leo…you've been vorking for eleven hours," Pavel reminded him gently, only briefly glancing away from the monitor. He knew how to not push it, by now.
McCoy grunted, powered the PADD down and tossed it onto the desk behind the computer.
"Crew would fall apart if it wasn't for me," he grumped.
"You know, Mister Scott says the ship vould fall apart if it vasn't for him," Pavel mused aloud, but knowingly.
McCoy snorted, raising a brow.
"Whatta we know, right? Two old drunks."
Pavel grinned, eyes trained on the screen and words nonchalant.
"But one of you is wery sexy, and the other is, ah…just a nice man."
"I'd ask which was which if you didn't say 'nice,'" McCoy supposed, dimly contemplating a drink until he noticed Pavel wasn't grinning anymore. In fact, the ensign looked uncharacteristically contemplative – and not in that 'lost in math' sort of way. McCoy watched him warily.
Pavel turned the monitor off and turned his sweet, innocently soulful gaze on the doctor. McCoy's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Pavel only perked up, smile sneaking onto the corners of his lips.
A terrible sense of understanding poured over McCoy. Maybe it was his paranoid, pessimistic nature, or just exactly how well he knew a certain constant companion of three years, but he could see the truth and the present with startling clarity.
"…Jim got to you."
He didn't trust Pavel's look of understanding as he corrected:
"The keptin and I had a discussion. I thought the result vas wery agreeable."
"Don't tell me—" Bones warned, without any real conclusion to the threat.
Pavel softened. His gaze darkened with heat, his young, angular face blameless of pretense.
"I vould rather show you."
Flames curled in McCoy's stomach. His dick jumped whenever Pavel got that look on him that meant he had a good idea of how he wanted the doctor to fuck him – except maybe this wasn't that look. Maybe it was a little too intense and a little too apprehensive. McCoy had to make a hard decision about how far he trusted the kid, and the answer was: about as far as you could, so he sighed and got up to lock the door to give himself a chance to walk off some nerves.
Chekov had already started shedding his clothes when McCoy finally squared his jaw and turned around and the ensign flashed a flirty grin as his underwear rolled off his hips, before he bent to step out of it. McCoy reluctantly had to admit how much he loved that firm, lanky body, because it took that and nothing else to have him shucking his clothes off like they gave him a rash.
McCoy's cock stiffened, half-erect with the memories of supple, milky skin and resilient, straining muscles the sight of Pavel's bare body conjured. The teenager climbed onto the bed and playfully made himself inviting, sprawling against the pillows with nothing to hide. McCoy's gaze traveled appreciatively from sensitive eyebrows and a lower lip he wanted to sink his teeth into, to hard, darkish nipples on a muscular chest and a familiar, overeager cock waiting fully aroused in auburn curls between strong, lean legs. The Doctor sat on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to take Pavel in hand, the length and weight of his sex a handful. He is thumb traced a vein along the younger man's soft skin.
"You could try and pretend like you haven't decided."
"Nothing's 'decided' unless you vant to," Pavel promised as coyly as anyone could with another man masturbating them. His eyelids swooned and McCoy picked up his attentions to borrow a little time to think.
Pavel caught his breath and the muscles of his stomach twitched as McCoy's thumb circled the head of his cock at the edge of his foreskin and then dragged gently across the slit. McCoy watched the shifting features of Pavel's face instead of the work of his hand. The instinctive reactions of Pavel's body perpetually took Pavel by surprise. Sex, for his teenage lover, was the process of falling apart. Pavel could endlessly be reduced to a shaking limbs and a trembling stomach. McCoy had stopped mistaking Pavel's undoing for naivety – it was lust – but he had a hard time picturing the kid taking charge in intercourse.
Pavel touched his arm at the elbow, letting his long fingers trail down the light pelt of brown hairs on his mole-speckled skin. McCoy's hand tightened reflexively around the younger man's warm erection. Pavel flashed a flirty grin and gave McCoy's forearm a squeeze. It suddenly sank in that if he would ever allow this, then he might as well allow it right now. The shared a familiar, comfortable intimacy with each other's bodies and he trusted the kid – if not to do it right, at least to back off if one of them fucked up spectacularly.
His change of heart must have shown on his face or in his eyes, because the smile on Pavel's lips was a shit eating grin, now, if McCoy'd ever seen one. He rolled his eyes, grumbling irritably, but he gave Pavel's cock an affectionate tug before he let it go.
They changed positions, Pavel slipping out of the way as McCoy dragged himself onto the mattress, rolling onto his back. The enthusiastic seventeen year old was quick to sling a leg over him, leaning in to consume his lips in a kiss that quickly escalated to messy and breathless. McCoy's fingers curled in the short hairs at the nape of Pavel's neck and his fingernails raked the younger man's chest. Pavel whined a needy, throaty noise and curled his fingers in the hairs of McCoy's own chest as his mouth bore down.
As he made out with the kid, McCoy tried to imagine how Pavel positioned himself: his knees drawn up, his long legs bunched to either side of McCoy's thrusting hips. He remembered Pavel with his head thrown back on the pillow, panting through his open mouth, his eyes unfocused and his skin sweating, chest swelling when he gasped for air, his body jostled as McCoy drove his dick into his open hips, his hands clutching at the pillow or the covers or McCoy's sex-tousled hair and his broader shoulders as he whimpered and groaned, or cursed softly in Russian.
His stomach clenched when his thoughts turned to penetration – to baring his anus, well aware that dark hairs curled more profusely in the cleft of his body than Pavel's, and to sticking his legs up, thick as his thighs and calves were. He had a stubborn image in mind of how ridiculous he'd seem in contrast to how easy Pavel made it look.
He stilled Pavel with a touch.
"This isn't gonna work."
Pavel's face fell, but he quickly masked his disappointment, nodding with a kind and generous smile and leaving McCoy feeling like an idiot, already.
"No—this position," he corrected more sourly than he intended. He elaborated: "I don't wanna hold my legs up."
Pavel looked suspicious – both in that he was suspicious of McCoy and McCoy found the way he looked suspicious.
"Pavel. Don't," he growled warningly. "Don't you dare."
Pavel sighed with great patience, sweet brows wrinkling with worry and apology, and McCoy admitted to himself patience had to be hard for a kid with Pavel's enthusiasm. The younger man traced his fingers down his jaw and along his throat, a soothing caress reminding a reluctant McCoy that he'd been in bed with the person who knew his body best since the beginning of the night. The doctor sighed a little, too, and backed off the offensive. Cheer and optimism crept back onto Pavel's face, and McCoy knew what was coming.
"Leo, has anyvone ever…"
It hardly needed saying, at this point. McCoy felt raw and a little exposed as he let himself confess:
"Not really, no – there may've been fingers."
He expected some due teasing. He at least expected somebody to bandy around the word 'virgin.' He realized (not for the first time) that he'd internalized Jim, as instead Pavel gripped his face and engaged him in another intimate exchange of saliva. McCoy grunted approval and Pavel ground their hips together, erections sliding alongside one another. Pavel stroked his jaw and the cusp of his ear. McCoy had never heard him say 'I love you,' but he'd never much trusted that as a litmus of anything. He'd be stupid to think the kid wasn't crazy about him.
Pavel looked down at him earnestly, face open and expressive. McCoy had a stupid thought about how beautiful he was, with his almost heart-shaped lips, short eyebrows and huge, emotive eyes on a square-cut and masculine face.
"Vhat would make you comfortable?"
"It'll all look ridiculous," McCoy groused. "…like a greyhound puppy humping a pit bull."
Pavel only laughed, or maybe giggled, all too used to his complaints.
"Sex is fun. It can be funny!" he pointed out with an entirely too literal interpretation of English.
"I don't wanna be funny," McCoy countered, glowering up at the Russian youth. Pavel pushed two fingers into his mouth and McCoy bit down on the first knuckles, licking the pads and tracing circles around the tips.
"I'm funny," Pavel pointed out cheerfully. "I stick my ass in the air. —You love it vhen I stick my ass in the air."
McCoy bit down harder on the digits in his mouth, lips twitching in a snarl, but for all his bluster it was hard to speak with his teeth clenched and his mouth full.
"You'f god a bedder ash," he slurred around Chekov's fingers, and this time they both laughed. He sucked Pavel's fingertips into his mouth and Pavel pulled them free with a soft smack, hand drifting down to torment a nipple.
McCoy arched his back a little with the pang of his nipple being rolled between Pavel's damp fingers, breathing in sharply and then sighing it out.
"Maybe from the back…" he offered, not really sure he was committing to that, exactly, wincing as Pavel gave his nipple a pinch. "—I'd love to kiss your face, but knowing somebody's staring's half the problem."
"Ve could fuck vith blindfolds," Pavel teased with too much glee, clearly delighted to have him squirming underneath his attention. "'Hmm, vhat am I putting this into?'"
With a grunt, McCoy gave Pavel's chest a two-handed shove and Pavel backed off, slipping off sideways as the doctor rolled over, getting his elbows underneath him, dragging his knees beneath his hips, and feeling his back crack as he pushed himself onto his hands. He huffed as the small of his back sank into position, glancing over his shoulder at Pavel and his expectant cock. Shaking his head he stared down at the mattress, gaze following the weave in its fabric where the light glinted off it. He felt heavy, heavy and large, although he wouldn't have called himself a large man, otherwise – only in contrast, every part of him thicker than Pavel.
He heard Pavel reaching over for what he knew was the lube they'd left on the bedside table. That wasn't what the ensign started with, though, kissing the dimples above his butt, tonguing them a little and stroking the curve of his buttocks.
McCoy had had hands on his backside. Hell, the ex-wife had given him a prostate massage or two, slipping her finger in while he tried to sleep or when she was sucking him off. She'd been a fucking minx. What he hadn't done was let somebody spend a lot of time looking at or touching on his ass. Not in the way Pavel intended to.
"How about you?" McCoy asked cautiously. "You alright with this?"
He knew Pavel had been about the face to face contact. Pavel was always about the intimacy, never just getting off on a friendly palm masturbating him. He had to pull McCoy's face into it and make it about kissing, always touching or making some kind of noise to connect them even when they fucked and it wasn't overtly romantic.
Pavel was probably turning it over in that massive intellect of his, because he didn't answer for awhile, although he kissed his way down across a cheek to the cleft of McCoy's ass and began pressing his lips down the divide as his thumb gently parted McCoy's buttocks.
Finally, he exhaled a warmth that tickled the hairs on McCoy's underside.
"Yes. I'm 'alright.' You don't know if you'll like it, and you don't vant me to know if you don’t like it."
McCoy cringed, Pavel hitting close to home. Sometimes it sucked to date a guy smarter than you and everybody you knew – including your best friend who tested as one of the smartest men of his generation. There was no point where Pavel couldn't conceptually grasp and define a problem, even if he couldn't always produce a practical solution.
Pavel opened the lube, now, the cap unscrewing in the silence with the wet sound of surface tension breaking. McCoy guessed if he was going to put a stop to this it should probably be now or he should probably just keep his damn mouth shut. It wasn't like McCoy hadn't been privy to Pavel's insecurities – the hesitant moments when the teenager second guessed himself at unexpected intervals. He wanted no responsibility over making the kid insecure about his own sexual desires; most of the time he tried to be accommodating.
He didn't stop him.
The first touch to his anus chilled him with the coolness of the lube, but that eased up as Pavel rubbed it in. He could feel the tension around the ring of skin the kid had targeted, like something hard was buried underneath. That ring spread when Pavel pressed against it, his body opening a little but closing up as Pavel decided to squeeze out a more lube.
His first familiar thought as Pavel pushed in was that it didn't really feel like anything, his skin sinking with the intrusion. It was when he withdrew his finger that McCoy felt it, something inside him rolling out along with Pavel's skin – never leaving, but being pulled against the friction of the subsiding intrusion. He still didn't know if he liked it or if he seriously hated it, but then the width of a finger left a lot of room for ambiguity.
Pavel let his other hand rest on McCoy's hip while his finger slipped in and out the doctor's body, torturously slow. McCoy was sort of grateful he didn't tease or caress him – it only could've made him uptight. He realized somewhere amidst glowering down at the mattress that the mattress didn't care and didn't have culpability, so he shut his eyes and made himself exhale some of the tension knotting up his back.
Pavel had been waiting for that, because now a second finger joined the first, making steady progress in opening McCoy up. The sensation remained uncomfortable, spurring heat in strange places. Somewhere he remembered that if this didn't work out, he had Jim to blame, and the idea filled him with vindictive delight. Then, Pavel curled his fingers and kneaded against his prostate and all thoughts of revenge evaporated with the deep, tingling pleasure that twitched into his cock.
A lustful sound groaned from his chest that had nothing to do with dignity – only keep doing that and right there and please, for fuck's sake. Pavel dug his nails into his hip and started to get the hang of it, reducing McCoy to whispering "Shit" like it meant something.
He couldn't pretend to have control of his body with Pavel's fingers coaxing this pleasure out of him, his anus gradually relaxing, twinging occasionally, his cock spasming without being touched. He must have forgotten just how good it was to be touched like this somewhere in the messy proceedings of his divorce.
He had started to sweat by the time Pavel pulled his fingers out, his dick about as hard as it got, arced erect towards his stomach. Pavel didn't say anything, but McCoy could've kissed him – at least until he felt the teenager's cock pocking around behind him and remembered he was getting fucked.
The intrusion stretched him wider than he could've imagined, but it was still just pressure on his skin – not great and not painful, just sort of disconcerting as Pavel sank in. McCoy could hear the sound of his own pulse, a panicky kind of flutter, and, yep, the kid had his cock in his ass. It was when Pavel pulled back that McCoy felt like somebody was turning him inside out, the sensation made even stranger by the slightly loose drag of Pavel's skin, shifting independent of his dick's harder core, one step out of synch.
The intensity of it went straight to McCoy's cock, but with an uncomfortable kind of ache and unsettling throb. He couldn't start to grasp why Pavel wanted to get dicked a couple of times a week.
"Is this alright?" the kid asked with genuine, affectionate concern and a unevenly breathless voice that did it for McCoy if nothing else did. He felt Pavel's hands soothingly rubbing his hips and didn't have the heart to tell him it pretty much sucked.
"Yeah- Yeah. I'm fine…" he swore, hoping the huskiness of his own voice would mask the lie. Then, Pavel leaned his weight on the small of McCoy's back and McCoy cursed and let his left arm buckle, because he'd been on his hands and knees awhile.
"Sorry!" Pavel exclaimed in surprise, easing up as his hips continued to thrust.
"That's not how you do it," McCoy growled, grudgingly lowering himself onto his elbows and resting his forehead against his folded arms. Later, maybe later, he'd think this was a laugh. His dick kept responding as Pavel slid through his ass, but his stomach felt sick like he'd eaten too much sugar and he couldn't get used to Pavel pulling his guts out, sweet kid or not.
"Sorry…" Pavel muttered with a sound of concentration, safely gripping McCoy's hips, voice low and desirous. That got an ache of real pleasure out of McCoy, momentarily eclipsing the nausea – he loved to turn Pavel on.
The squelch of lube and the slapping of skin on skin, the groan of the mattress and his own heavy breathing and occasional grunts provided the backdrop to listen to Pavel pant and whimper breathy, pleasured noises. McCoy could get into that and pushed back into the uncomfortable thrusts as Pavel fucked him – taking satisfaction in wringing out a Russian exclamation that sounded pretty filthy.
He normally appreciated Pavel's healthy sexual stamina, but right now he wished the kid would hurry up and come.
For a minute it seemed like he'd get his wish. Pavel rose up a little higher on his knees, angling his thrusts deeper as he drew closer to an orgasm.
—but having a teenager perched on his hips pushed the limits of McCoy's back. Before he could point out he wasn't a goddamn jungle gym, his knees slid backwards out from under him and Pavel toppled forward with a yell onto his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Pavel pressed his head against McCoy's shoulder with another embarrassed Sorry and McCoy said Fuck and Pavel's hips were still twitching into his, but then they stopped, the kid holding himself back, ready to retreat.
Which was a shame.
Maybe it was the asphyxia, but McCoy thought those little nudges were pretty damn nice.
He grunted, reaching back and fumbling down Pavel's arm until their palms slid together and their fingers interwove, hands clutching. He felt Pavel smile against his skin, and it soothed him – and really soothed him. Pavel's hips began to make tiny little thrusts against McCoy's backside, and it felt amazing, just enough of a push-and-tug without his stomach doing queasy somersaults and Pavel tucked inside him – a comfortable fullness.
____
Pavel shut his eyes and relished the tight, hot embrace around his erection, his weight resting against McCoy's broad back, his lover's palm warm against his own and his hips moving in small lurches. He could smell McCoy's sweat and his familiar shampoo and he'd tucked his other arm against the man's side in a half-hug.
A minute ago the fall and his own startled cry had left him convinced he'd ruined the entire thing and had him ready to go hit the shower and come back and apologize when McCoy had stopped bristling and cussing. Now, his chest brimmed with warmth and adoration and he felt welcome within his lover's body.
The heat in his cock built more each thrust. He groaned as McCoy's hips began to push back against his own, his slow-mounting orgasm riding on a dizzy edge, pressure building until his eyes rolled back and he felt the familiar tingling at the base of his cock, arousal spreading from his sex into his abdomen. He stuttered an exclamation as his body clenched, the involuntary rush of semen unbearably sexy when it was McCoy's body it flooded inside. He spent a few hard thrusts against his lover's clenching buttocks – overwhelmed. Endorphins flooded his post-orgasmic body, and he collapsed against McCoy's back with a sigh, nuzzling against his skin, dimly aware his lover had yet to come. McCoy's bigger hand squeezed against his own, and Pavel accepted the permission to rest comfortably a minute, gripping minutely back.
Lying atop McCoy had become a source of strength for Pavel, a reminder that he was loved – the older man easily able to support his weight. It had never quite been a source of the confidence steadying him now. Leonard hadn't exactly made it easy. In fact…
"You are the most difficult man I have been inside," he scolded, fondly, as he caught his breath.
"—yeah?" McCoy grunted against the bed. "How many men is that?"
"Three," Pavel supplied readily. "The other two ver wery…accommodating."
McCoy made a noise like a growl, chest rumbling with the sound.
"I don't 'accommodate,'" he avowed, grumpiness muffled by the mattress. Pavel supposed that wasn't entirely true, but it definitely pertained to anal sex.
He drew his hand up the side of McCoy's body, rubbing at his aroused skin and feeling the man shift invitingly beneath him, pleasantly jostling the oversensitive erection still buried in his rectum. Pavel sucked a kiss against his vertebrae, leaving an uneven, flushed red mark, slid his hand from the doctor's, fingertips caressing the dip in McCoy's palm, and then withdrew from the man's hips, McCoy's skin clinging against him until he ultimately slipped free.
McCoy turned over underneath him, Pavel pushing himself up enough for the doctor to move. Pavel's heart jumped a the sight of his face, critical brown eyes softened by his dilated pupils and contemplative brow drawn in its usual furrow, a flush on his damp skin and breathing through his mouth, the intensity of his gaze deepened by arousal.
One look at his lover and Pavel knew Leonard had no idea he was sexy, the concept stalling out before it bore consideration. McCoy always looked a little wary, a little cautious, like he didn't know how he'd ended up with Pavel – couldn't figure it out, but was grateful to be there. To Pavel, it seemed unbelievable the man could be so far from self aware. He smiled happily, kissed his fingers – but not the lube slick ones – and flirtatiously brushed the kiss across McCoy's lower lip.
McCoy shuddered, eyes falling closed and hips straining a little against Pavel's. Pavel still took his time biting and licking his way down McCoy's attractive body, scratching his nails against his skin and leaving white trails that slowly reddened, before he cupped his tightened balls in his fingers and slid his mouth over the familiar girth of his cock.
It didn't take much, at that point, McCoy making a quiet choking sound, his cock spasming under Pavel's lips and a string of come hitting Pavel's throat, bitter but welcome on the back of his tongue. He swallowed around him through two more spurts, McCoy burying a hand in his hair and groaning a sound more like gnngh than a word.
Pavel happily nursed him dry, leaving the soft skin of his cock clean of anything but saliva. He pushed himself off his lover's body and out from under his touch, a little light-headed as he sat upright. McCoy was always vulnerable after he came – right now with his hand covering his face, giving his eyes shade as his body calmed. Pavel wanted to look at him (preferably without being asked What? or being grunted at). Really, there wasn't a more opportune time.
His eyes traveled McCoy's body: heavy and mature and dark with hair where Pavel's was light, almost scrappy, and, despite his distinct memories of hitting puberty, relatively hairless. (Honestly, he envied Leonard a little – only Pavel's legs even bothered to make a showing. The best sign that he'd become an adult was his fading freckles.) He watched Leonard's stomach rise and fall as he breathed and admired the thickness of his cock.
He let his thoughts trail back to the older man braced on the bed and the expanse of his back and his round, firm buttocks supported by muscular thighs. The entire circumstance of getting to stroke McCoy open and then watch himself disappear into his body remained incredible, even if it looked like he'd have to refine his technique. (Admittedly, he'd only had equally enthusiastic young men to practice on, before, where nothing was a mistake – just a source of hilarity.)
McCoy finally rubbed his eyes, peering down at him accusatively with a look of consternation Pavel knew well.
"—stop mooning and c'mere. Bring the blankets."
Pavel grinned and brought the blankets, pulling them up the length of the bed as he settled in beside Leonard on a mattress that was never quite big enough. McCoy didn't stay irritable, the glower relaxing off his face after they'd lain there looking at each other a moment and just before they leaned in to share a kiss. Pavel savored it, wanting to remember everything and knowing he would. Their lips only parted for McCoy to bark at the shipboard computer to turn off the lights. Their bodies moved together slowly, now, hands stroking casual, familiar caresses. They made themselves comfortable, finally settling in the embrace they'd fall asleep in, hands resting in intimate places – the dip of a waist just above the hip and the flat of a stomach.
Pavel smiled in the darkness, courage swelling. He whispered "I love you" against McCoy's body, not expecting to have his words returned, and shut his eyes.
McCoy silently tightened his embrace with the sigh of a man who'd been fearing something that didn't turn out to be as bad as he'd expected.
Pavel knew the score. Eventually, after lunch, or before one of them left for a duty shift, or while McCoy was on the computer and Pavel was reading a PADD, or just maybe next time they ended up in the same bed McCoy would say it back as if there hadn't been a three day pause in the conversation.
"This Doesn't Taste Like An Intervention">>
Author:
calicokatBeta:
black_regaliaPairing: Bones/Chekov
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "'Lover.' 'Boyfriend'...You guys are serious about this, aren't you?"
Notes: Sequel to "James T. Kirk Will Not Be Dissuaded." Part five in a series. Thanks to
dirty_smudge for invaluable help in realizing this story. Star Trek and all related properties © and TM 2009 CBS Studios Inc. and are used without permission.
by
calicokatIt hadn't been a week since he'd walked in on Pavel and McCoy before Jim Kirk sidled up and took a seat across from Pavel in mess.
"Pavel, you sly dog."
Pavel felt the heat ramp up in his cheeks.
"Keptin."
Kirk held out a stilling hand.
"Jim – it's Jim. I definitely insist."
"Leo's already varned me about you, Jim," Pavel demurred, politely.
"Leo has, has he?"
Pavel composed himself, leaning in over his plate with the pretense of confidentiality. The captain leaned in turn.
"He said, 'Jim is a gossip. He vill vant to know vhat we do in bed, and he vill maybe giggle.'"
Jim's face split into a grin.
"I do! I will. Tell me everything."
Pavel ducked his head, laughing quietly, shyness surging.
"I do not think so, no."
"Come on, man. It's my duty above and beyond my commission as captain to make Bones's every waking moment as embarrassing as possible. That's what friends do!"
Confusion clouded Pavel's features.
"But why vould I do that to my lover?"
Jim quirked his brow, aimlessly chasing his food around his plate with his fork.
"'Lover.' 'Boyfriend'...You guys are serious about this, aren't you?"
Pavel's stomach twisted with surprise. Something caught in his chest. Along with a burst of endorphins, he found it difficult to breathe.
"…he has called me his boyfriend?"
Jim softened, backing off on the keen intent in his expression. He wore a kinder smile, now.
"Yeah. He may have said that."
Pavel could feel his pulse in his cheeks. He grinned ear to ear, suddenly happy that Kirk had chosen to eat with him. Kirk laughed, sitting back and running his fingers through his hair, flashing a flirty, appreciative smile.
"—oh, man, you're too cute. You're a hazard."
Pavel's eyes slid away as he colored even more with the compliment. He could actually see why people slept with Jim Kirk even when they knew it couldn't last. He felt good. No – incredible. The thought of McCoy calling him a 'boyfriend' brightened his spirits and his heart.
"So, I have one question," Jim warned, wicked teasing sneaking back into his bright blue eyes. "Are you going to tap that ass?"
Pavel sputtered, eyes widening, gaze frozen on Jim. He dimly remembered McCoy muttering something strange and off two nights before.
"You do know if you ever, you know, wanted to…" McCoy trailed off, tracing absent circles on Pavel's shoulder.
Pavel roused himself drowsily.
"Do vhat?" he asked amid a yawn.
McCoy kissed his curly head.
"Ah…nevermind."
He looked down at his plate, scooping up a mouthful of steamed vegetables to buy himself some time and chewing slowly until the soft food turned to mush.
"Keptin—…Jim. I think that is private. A private matter."
"Right," Jim agreed with his own mouth full. He took a chug of his drink to clear his throat. "A private matter – between you, Bones, God…and me."
Pavel admitted to himself it was some kind of relief that Jim had waited until Sulu was eating on a different shift to approach him, when he took most of his meals with the American helmsman.
"I don't mind being, how do you say – 'on the bottom,'" Pavel pointed out, struggling with his embarrassment. He respected Jim as the captain of the Enterprise and his superior officer. He had difficulty reconciling that with the young man's intimate questions on his sex life, where he felt compelled to answer him and to explain himself but also a little exploited. "Besides, it vould be strange to do that to Doctor McCoy."
"Exactly. That's exactly what I thought," Jim declared proudly, looking all too self-satisfied. "And why is that?"
Pavel stared at Jim in incomprehension, but his mind latched onto the question and he chased it down the circuitous path to its conclusion like any other, more mathematical problem.
"Because he is older. Older than I am," Pavel admitted disquietly.
Jim looked just like Pavel's proud parents when the Russian youth graduated high school at twelve.
"But being thirty-one has nothing to do with how you take it in the bedroom, and being seventeen definitely means trying to stick it in anything warm," he declared, all-knowing.
Pavel gawked.
"Keptin!"
Jim held his hands up in self-defense.
"Think about it?" he flirted playfully.
Pavel grabbed his drink and drank until his face began to cool, only wishing it was neat, eighty-proof Russian vodka. He panted to catch his breath as he sat the empty mug down firmly next to his plate. Jim looked impressed.
"—I vill eat my lunch now, Keptin," he declared, sticking his fork into it and deciding if he ignored Jim the captain might find something to distract him. The fact that half the mess hall was staring at him after his outburst and display of drinking expediency prickled on his skin.
"You're right. It's getting cold," Jim agreed without a trace of shame or regret, attacking his own meal with all due enthusiasm.
Pavel's head spun a little when he tried to contemplate the proposition Jim had set forth. He had taken a lover before, not just been receptive to his partners' affection. Leonard, though—…The doctor occupied a special echelon, and when Pavel contemplated him it always invoked the same sense of shelter and security.
He wondered why McCoy hadn't made the offer in bed when he verged on it, before. He doesn't think you're capable, was the insecure assumption of a teenage boy, and a pang of insecurity throbbed through his heart. Pavel forced himself to consider the alternatives, working his way through his meal and almost forgetting Jim still sat across from him.
First of all, McCoy probably wouldn't have brought it up at all if that was the case. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that his lover didn't want to pressure him into assuming a more dominant role in their partnership than he took of his own accord or make him feel something was lacking if they didn't test their boundaries, whatever Leonard might be willing to try.
McCoy rarely asked anything out of him at all, the doctor a man accustomed to placing the concerns of others above his own, when he even recognized his own. Pavel had relied on patience and observation to discover his lover's needs and interests since he first extended the invitation for sex in the sickbay, months back.
His eyes focused on Jim, who he recognized had been watching him surreptitiously for awhile. He offered a happy smile to the older young man.
"Even if you are a gossip and annoy my lover – thank you."
Kirk laughed, dropping an easy wink.
"Have a good time, tiger."
Bones McCoy entered his quarters with his eyes on the PADD in front of him, preoccupied with reviewing the work of his subordinates and the medical records of his own patients one more time, in case he'd missed something. When his thoughts slipped back, he could still remember his first day on the job as Chief Medical Officer: the sweet and sickening, skin like tanned leather and the stench of charred flesh and sulfurous smell of burnt hair, the screams of the injured and the dying and the blood on his hands that didn't scrub out from under his nails for four days. The job since had yet to compare to those first few brutal hours, but lives still hung in the balance every time he picked up a laser scalpel or sonic separator and sometimes, unexpectedly, from somebody's anaphylactic reaction to lunch from the food slot or a slip and a resulting concussion in engineering. The last cause of mortality he wanted to add was clerical error.
It took him a few moments to register Pavel Chekov was sitting in his desk chair, fiddling on the desktop monitor. In fact, he only stopped and squinted at the teenager before he almost sat on him.
"Need your desk?" the Russian offered, in a good mood – but it'd only be remarkable if he wasn't.
"No," McCoy assuaged, glancing at the empty chair on the other side of his desk and stepping around to take a seat there.
Pavel went back to browsing whatever it was teenagers looked at on the subspace network, these days, and McCoy continued his review – although, honestly, at this point, other priorities might have crept in.
In some ways, McCoy missed the simplicity of the three months before he'd started viewing his relationship with the ensign with some sort of gravity. That had been five days, now. He'd practically marked each one off on the calendar. He was damn grateful, for the second time in four days, that he had a PADD to pretend to read. He considered making a habit of always carrying one. They certainly facilitated avoiding direct human interactions.
Pavel. Somehow, and not with his express permission, all 3 kilograms (or less) of the skinny Russian had become his significant other. That was a mental marker more than an official classification, but it made McCoy no less uncomfortable. It took Pavel from the position of an occasional distraction to an individual McCoy took full responsibility for the emotional well being of. He already had the physical well being of the entire ship on his hands.
At least, when it came to Pavel, there was a certain degree of reciprocation.
McCoy could be candid with himself: it was that that scared the fuck out of him.
The idea of Pavel sitting across his desk thinking things about him and, worse, knowing things about him had started to dismantle everything that had protected him through the past five years, since the death of his father. Pavel had begun to dismantle the hardening of his defenses that had ultimately driven away his wife and stolen his daughter and made him harder, yet.
Thing was, though, he just couldn't justify letting a seventeen year old shoulder the weight of the particular cross he bore.
"Leo…you've been vorking for eleven hours," Pavel reminded him gently, only briefly glancing away from the monitor. He knew how to not push it, by now.
McCoy grunted, powered the PADD down and tossed it onto the desk behind the computer.
"Crew would fall apart if it wasn't for me," he grumped.
"You know, Mister Scott says the ship vould fall apart if it vasn't for him," Pavel mused aloud, but knowingly.
McCoy snorted, raising a brow.
"Whatta we know, right? Two old drunks."
Pavel grinned, eyes trained on the screen and words nonchalant.
"But one of you is wery sexy, and the other is, ah…just a nice man."
"I'd ask which was which if you didn't say 'nice,'" McCoy supposed, dimly contemplating a drink until he noticed Pavel wasn't grinning anymore. In fact, the ensign looked uncharacteristically contemplative – and not in that 'lost in math' sort of way. McCoy watched him warily.
Pavel turned the monitor off and turned his sweet, innocently soulful gaze on the doctor. McCoy's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Pavel only perked up, smile sneaking onto the corners of his lips.
A terrible sense of understanding poured over McCoy. Maybe it was his paranoid, pessimistic nature, or just exactly how well he knew a certain constant companion of three years, but he could see the truth and the present with startling clarity.
"…Jim got to you."
He didn't trust Pavel's look of understanding as he corrected:
"The keptin and I had a discussion. I thought the result vas wery agreeable."
"Don't tell me—" Bones warned, without any real conclusion to the threat.
Pavel softened. His gaze darkened with heat, his young, angular face blameless of pretense.
"I vould rather show you."
Flames curled in McCoy's stomach. His dick jumped whenever Pavel got that look on him that meant he had a good idea of how he wanted the doctor to fuck him – except maybe this wasn't that look. Maybe it was a little too intense and a little too apprehensive. McCoy had to make a hard decision about how far he trusted the kid, and the answer was: about as far as you could, so he sighed and got up to lock the door to give himself a chance to walk off some nerves.
Chekov had already started shedding his clothes when McCoy finally squared his jaw and turned around and the ensign flashed a flirty grin as his underwear rolled off his hips, before he bent to step out of it. McCoy reluctantly had to admit how much he loved that firm, lanky body, because it took that and nothing else to have him shucking his clothes off like they gave him a rash.
McCoy's cock stiffened, half-erect with the memories of supple, milky skin and resilient, straining muscles the sight of Pavel's bare body conjured. The teenager climbed onto the bed and playfully made himself inviting, sprawling against the pillows with nothing to hide. McCoy's gaze traveled appreciatively from sensitive eyebrows and a lower lip he wanted to sink his teeth into, to hard, darkish nipples on a muscular chest and a familiar, overeager cock waiting fully aroused in auburn curls between strong, lean legs. The Doctor sat on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to take Pavel in hand, the length and weight of his sex a handful. He is thumb traced a vein along the younger man's soft skin.
"You could try and pretend like you haven't decided."
"Nothing's 'decided' unless you vant to," Pavel promised as coyly as anyone could with another man masturbating them. His eyelids swooned and McCoy picked up his attentions to borrow a little time to think.
Pavel caught his breath and the muscles of his stomach twitched as McCoy's thumb circled the head of his cock at the edge of his foreskin and then dragged gently across the slit. McCoy watched the shifting features of Pavel's face instead of the work of his hand. The instinctive reactions of Pavel's body perpetually took Pavel by surprise. Sex, for his teenage lover, was the process of falling apart. Pavel could endlessly be reduced to a shaking limbs and a trembling stomach. McCoy had stopped mistaking Pavel's undoing for naivety – it was lust – but he had a hard time picturing the kid taking charge in intercourse.
Pavel touched his arm at the elbow, letting his long fingers trail down the light pelt of brown hairs on his mole-speckled skin. McCoy's hand tightened reflexively around the younger man's warm erection. Pavel flashed a flirty grin and gave McCoy's forearm a squeeze. It suddenly sank in that if he would ever allow this, then he might as well allow it right now. The shared a familiar, comfortable intimacy with each other's bodies and he trusted the kid – if not to do it right, at least to back off if one of them fucked up spectacularly.
His change of heart must have shown on his face or in his eyes, because the smile on Pavel's lips was a shit eating grin, now, if McCoy'd ever seen one. He rolled his eyes, grumbling irritably, but he gave Pavel's cock an affectionate tug before he let it go.
They changed positions, Pavel slipping out of the way as McCoy dragged himself onto the mattress, rolling onto his back. The enthusiastic seventeen year old was quick to sling a leg over him, leaning in to consume his lips in a kiss that quickly escalated to messy and breathless. McCoy's fingers curled in the short hairs at the nape of Pavel's neck and his fingernails raked the younger man's chest. Pavel whined a needy, throaty noise and curled his fingers in the hairs of McCoy's own chest as his mouth bore down.
As he made out with the kid, McCoy tried to imagine how Pavel positioned himself: his knees drawn up, his long legs bunched to either side of McCoy's thrusting hips. He remembered Pavel with his head thrown back on the pillow, panting through his open mouth, his eyes unfocused and his skin sweating, chest swelling when he gasped for air, his body jostled as McCoy drove his dick into his open hips, his hands clutching at the pillow or the covers or McCoy's sex-tousled hair and his broader shoulders as he whimpered and groaned, or cursed softly in Russian.
His stomach clenched when his thoughts turned to penetration – to baring his anus, well aware that dark hairs curled more profusely in the cleft of his body than Pavel's, and to sticking his legs up, thick as his thighs and calves were. He had a stubborn image in mind of how ridiculous he'd seem in contrast to how easy Pavel made it look.
He stilled Pavel with a touch.
"This isn't gonna work."
Pavel's face fell, but he quickly masked his disappointment, nodding with a kind and generous smile and leaving McCoy feeling like an idiot, already.
"No—this position," he corrected more sourly than he intended. He elaborated: "I don't wanna hold my legs up."
Pavel looked suspicious – both in that he was suspicious of McCoy and McCoy found the way he looked suspicious.
"Pavel. Don't," he growled warningly. "Don't you dare."
Pavel sighed with great patience, sweet brows wrinkling with worry and apology, and McCoy admitted to himself patience had to be hard for a kid with Pavel's enthusiasm. The younger man traced his fingers down his jaw and along his throat, a soothing caress reminding a reluctant McCoy that he'd been in bed with the person who knew his body best since the beginning of the night. The doctor sighed a little, too, and backed off the offensive. Cheer and optimism crept back onto Pavel's face, and McCoy knew what was coming.
"Leo, has anyvone ever…"
It hardly needed saying, at this point. McCoy felt raw and a little exposed as he let himself confess:
"Not really, no – there may've been fingers."
He expected some due teasing. He at least expected somebody to bandy around the word 'virgin.' He realized (not for the first time) that he'd internalized Jim, as instead Pavel gripped his face and engaged him in another intimate exchange of saliva. McCoy grunted approval and Pavel ground their hips together, erections sliding alongside one another. Pavel stroked his jaw and the cusp of his ear. McCoy had never heard him say 'I love you,' but he'd never much trusted that as a litmus of anything. He'd be stupid to think the kid wasn't crazy about him.
Pavel looked down at him earnestly, face open and expressive. McCoy had a stupid thought about how beautiful he was, with his almost heart-shaped lips, short eyebrows and huge, emotive eyes on a square-cut and masculine face.
"Vhat would make you comfortable?"
"It'll all look ridiculous," McCoy groused. "…like a greyhound puppy humping a pit bull."
Pavel only laughed, or maybe giggled, all too used to his complaints.
"Sex is fun. It can be funny!" he pointed out with an entirely too literal interpretation of English.
"I don't wanna be funny," McCoy countered, glowering up at the Russian youth. Pavel pushed two fingers into his mouth and McCoy bit down on the first knuckles, licking the pads and tracing circles around the tips.
"I'm funny," Pavel pointed out cheerfully. "I stick my ass in the air. —You love it vhen I stick my ass in the air."
McCoy bit down harder on the digits in his mouth, lips twitching in a snarl, but for all his bluster it was hard to speak with his teeth clenched and his mouth full.
"You'f god a bedder ash," he slurred around Chekov's fingers, and this time they both laughed. He sucked Pavel's fingertips into his mouth and Pavel pulled them free with a soft smack, hand drifting down to torment a nipple.
McCoy arched his back a little with the pang of his nipple being rolled between Pavel's damp fingers, breathing in sharply and then sighing it out.
"Maybe from the back…" he offered, not really sure he was committing to that, exactly, wincing as Pavel gave his nipple a pinch. "—I'd love to kiss your face, but knowing somebody's staring's half the problem."
"Ve could fuck vith blindfolds," Pavel teased with too much glee, clearly delighted to have him squirming underneath his attention. "'Hmm, vhat am I putting this into?'"
With a grunt, McCoy gave Pavel's chest a two-handed shove and Pavel backed off, slipping off sideways as the doctor rolled over, getting his elbows underneath him, dragging his knees beneath his hips, and feeling his back crack as he pushed himself onto his hands. He huffed as the small of his back sank into position, glancing over his shoulder at Pavel and his expectant cock. Shaking his head he stared down at the mattress, gaze following the weave in its fabric where the light glinted off it. He felt heavy, heavy and large, although he wouldn't have called himself a large man, otherwise – only in contrast, every part of him thicker than Pavel.
He heard Pavel reaching over for what he knew was the lube they'd left on the bedside table. That wasn't what the ensign started with, though, kissing the dimples above his butt, tonguing them a little and stroking the curve of his buttocks.
McCoy had had hands on his backside. Hell, the ex-wife had given him a prostate massage or two, slipping her finger in while he tried to sleep or when she was sucking him off. She'd been a fucking minx. What he hadn't done was let somebody spend a lot of time looking at or touching on his ass. Not in the way Pavel intended to.
"How about you?" McCoy asked cautiously. "You alright with this?"
He knew Pavel had been about the face to face contact. Pavel was always about the intimacy, never just getting off on a friendly palm masturbating him. He had to pull McCoy's face into it and make it about kissing, always touching or making some kind of noise to connect them even when they fucked and it wasn't overtly romantic.
Pavel was probably turning it over in that massive intellect of his, because he didn't answer for awhile, although he kissed his way down across a cheek to the cleft of McCoy's ass and began pressing his lips down the divide as his thumb gently parted McCoy's buttocks.
Finally, he exhaled a warmth that tickled the hairs on McCoy's underside.
"Yes. I'm 'alright.' You don't know if you'll like it, and you don't vant me to know if you don’t like it."
McCoy cringed, Pavel hitting close to home. Sometimes it sucked to date a guy smarter than you and everybody you knew – including your best friend who tested as one of the smartest men of his generation. There was no point where Pavel couldn't conceptually grasp and define a problem, even if he couldn't always produce a practical solution.
Pavel opened the lube, now, the cap unscrewing in the silence with the wet sound of surface tension breaking. McCoy guessed if he was going to put a stop to this it should probably be now or he should probably just keep his damn mouth shut. It wasn't like McCoy hadn't been privy to Pavel's insecurities – the hesitant moments when the teenager second guessed himself at unexpected intervals. He wanted no responsibility over making the kid insecure about his own sexual desires; most of the time he tried to be accommodating.
He didn't stop him.
The first touch to his anus chilled him with the coolness of the lube, but that eased up as Pavel rubbed it in. He could feel the tension around the ring of skin the kid had targeted, like something hard was buried underneath. That ring spread when Pavel pressed against it, his body opening a little but closing up as Pavel decided to squeeze out a more lube.
His first familiar thought as Pavel pushed in was that it didn't really feel like anything, his skin sinking with the intrusion. It was when he withdrew his finger that McCoy felt it, something inside him rolling out along with Pavel's skin – never leaving, but being pulled against the friction of the subsiding intrusion. He still didn't know if he liked it or if he seriously hated it, but then the width of a finger left a lot of room for ambiguity.
Pavel let his other hand rest on McCoy's hip while his finger slipped in and out the doctor's body, torturously slow. McCoy was sort of grateful he didn't tease or caress him – it only could've made him uptight. He realized somewhere amidst glowering down at the mattress that the mattress didn't care and didn't have culpability, so he shut his eyes and made himself exhale some of the tension knotting up his back.
Pavel had been waiting for that, because now a second finger joined the first, making steady progress in opening McCoy up. The sensation remained uncomfortable, spurring heat in strange places. Somewhere he remembered that if this didn't work out, he had Jim to blame, and the idea filled him with vindictive delight. Then, Pavel curled his fingers and kneaded against his prostate and all thoughts of revenge evaporated with the deep, tingling pleasure that twitched into his cock.
A lustful sound groaned from his chest that had nothing to do with dignity – only keep doing that and right there and please, for fuck's sake. Pavel dug his nails into his hip and started to get the hang of it, reducing McCoy to whispering "Shit" like it meant something.
He couldn't pretend to have control of his body with Pavel's fingers coaxing this pleasure out of him, his anus gradually relaxing, twinging occasionally, his cock spasming without being touched. He must have forgotten just how good it was to be touched like this somewhere in the messy proceedings of his divorce.
He had started to sweat by the time Pavel pulled his fingers out, his dick about as hard as it got, arced erect towards his stomach. Pavel didn't say anything, but McCoy could've kissed him – at least until he felt the teenager's cock pocking around behind him and remembered he was getting fucked.
The intrusion stretched him wider than he could've imagined, but it was still just pressure on his skin – not great and not painful, just sort of disconcerting as Pavel sank in. McCoy could hear the sound of his own pulse, a panicky kind of flutter, and, yep, the kid had his cock in his ass. It was when Pavel pulled back that McCoy felt like somebody was turning him inside out, the sensation made even stranger by the slightly loose drag of Pavel's skin, shifting independent of his dick's harder core, one step out of synch.
The intensity of it went straight to McCoy's cock, but with an uncomfortable kind of ache and unsettling throb. He couldn't start to grasp why Pavel wanted to get dicked a couple of times a week.
"Is this alright?" the kid asked with genuine, affectionate concern and a unevenly breathless voice that did it for McCoy if nothing else did. He felt Pavel's hands soothingly rubbing his hips and didn't have the heart to tell him it pretty much sucked.
"Yeah- Yeah. I'm fine…" he swore, hoping the huskiness of his own voice would mask the lie. Then, Pavel leaned his weight on the small of McCoy's back and McCoy cursed and let his left arm buckle, because he'd been on his hands and knees awhile.
"Sorry!" Pavel exclaimed in surprise, easing up as his hips continued to thrust.
"That's not how you do it," McCoy growled, grudgingly lowering himself onto his elbows and resting his forehead against his folded arms. Later, maybe later, he'd think this was a laugh. His dick kept responding as Pavel slid through his ass, but his stomach felt sick like he'd eaten too much sugar and he couldn't get used to Pavel pulling his guts out, sweet kid or not.
"Sorry…" Pavel muttered with a sound of concentration, safely gripping McCoy's hips, voice low and desirous. That got an ache of real pleasure out of McCoy, momentarily eclipsing the nausea – he loved to turn Pavel on.
The squelch of lube and the slapping of skin on skin, the groan of the mattress and his own heavy breathing and occasional grunts provided the backdrop to listen to Pavel pant and whimper breathy, pleasured noises. McCoy could get into that and pushed back into the uncomfortable thrusts as Pavel fucked him – taking satisfaction in wringing out a Russian exclamation that sounded pretty filthy.
He normally appreciated Pavel's healthy sexual stamina, but right now he wished the kid would hurry up and come.
For a minute it seemed like he'd get his wish. Pavel rose up a little higher on his knees, angling his thrusts deeper as he drew closer to an orgasm.
—but having a teenager perched on his hips pushed the limits of McCoy's back. Before he could point out he wasn't a goddamn jungle gym, his knees slid backwards out from under him and Pavel toppled forward with a yell onto his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Pavel pressed his head against McCoy's shoulder with another embarrassed Sorry and McCoy said Fuck and Pavel's hips were still twitching into his, but then they stopped, the kid holding himself back, ready to retreat.
Which was a shame.
Maybe it was the asphyxia, but McCoy thought those little nudges were pretty damn nice.
He grunted, reaching back and fumbling down Pavel's arm until their palms slid together and their fingers interwove, hands clutching. He felt Pavel smile against his skin, and it soothed him – and really soothed him. Pavel's hips began to make tiny little thrusts against McCoy's backside, and it felt amazing, just enough of a push-and-tug without his stomach doing queasy somersaults and Pavel tucked inside him – a comfortable fullness.
Pavel shut his eyes and relished the tight, hot embrace around his erection, his weight resting against McCoy's broad back, his lover's palm warm against his own and his hips moving in small lurches. He could smell McCoy's sweat and his familiar shampoo and he'd tucked his other arm against the man's side in a half-hug.
A minute ago the fall and his own startled cry had left him convinced he'd ruined the entire thing and had him ready to go hit the shower and come back and apologize when McCoy had stopped bristling and cussing. Now, his chest brimmed with warmth and adoration and he felt welcome within his lover's body.
The heat in his cock built more each thrust. He groaned as McCoy's hips began to push back against his own, his slow-mounting orgasm riding on a dizzy edge, pressure building until his eyes rolled back and he felt the familiar tingling at the base of his cock, arousal spreading from his sex into his abdomen. He stuttered an exclamation as his body clenched, the involuntary rush of semen unbearably sexy when it was McCoy's body it flooded inside. He spent a few hard thrusts against his lover's clenching buttocks – overwhelmed. Endorphins flooded his post-orgasmic body, and he collapsed against McCoy's back with a sigh, nuzzling against his skin, dimly aware his lover had yet to come. McCoy's bigger hand squeezed against his own, and Pavel accepted the permission to rest comfortably a minute, gripping minutely back.
Lying atop McCoy had become a source of strength for Pavel, a reminder that he was loved – the older man easily able to support his weight. It had never quite been a source of the confidence steadying him now. Leonard hadn't exactly made it easy. In fact…
"You are the most difficult man I have been inside," he scolded, fondly, as he caught his breath.
"—yeah?" McCoy grunted against the bed. "How many men is that?"
"Three," Pavel supplied readily. "The other two ver wery…accommodating."
McCoy made a noise like a growl, chest rumbling with the sound.
"I don't 'accommodate,'" he avowed, grumpiness muffled by the mattress. Pavel supposed that wasn't entirely true, but it definitely pertained to anal sex.
He drew his hand up the side of McCoy's body, rubbing at his aroused skin and feeling the man shift invitingly beneath him, pleasantly jostling the oversensitive erection still buried in his rectum. Pavel sucked a kiss against his vertebrae, leaving an uneven, flushed red mark, slid his hand from the doctor's, fingertips caressing the dip in McCoy's palm, and then withdrew from the man's hips, McCoy's skin clinging against him until he ultimately slipped free.
McCoy turned over underneath him, Pavel pushing himself up enough for the doctor to move. Pavel's heart jumped a the sight of his face, critical brown eyes softened by his dilated pupils and contemplative brow drawn in its usual furrow, a flush on his damp skin and breathing through his mouth, the intensity of his gaze deepened by arousal.
One look at his lover and Pavel knew Leonard had no idea he was sexy, the concept stalling out before it bore consideration. McCoy always looked a little wary, a little cautious, like he didn't know how he'd ended up with Pavel – couldn't figure it out, but was grateful to be there. To Pavel, it seemed unbelievable the man could be so far from self aware. He smiled happily, kissed his fingers – but not the lube slick ones – and flirtatiously brushed the kiss across McCoy's lower lip.
McCoy shuddered, eyes falling closed and hips straining a little against Pavel's. Pavel still took his time biting and licking his way down McCoy's attractive body, scratching his nails against his skin and leaving white trails that slowly reddened, before he cupped his tightened balls in his fingers and slid his mouth over the familiar girth of his cock.
It didn't take much, at that point, McCoy making a quiet choking sound, his cock spasming under Pavel's lips and a string of come hitting Pavel's throat, bitter but welcome on the back of his tongue. He swallowed around him through two more spurts, McCoy burying a hand in his hair and groaning a sound more like gnngh than a word.
Pavel happily nursed him dry, leaving the soft skin of his cock clean of anything but saliva. He pushed himself off his lover's body and out from under his touch, a little light-headed as he sat upright. McCoy was always vulnerable after he came – right now with his hand covering his face, giving his eyes shade as his body calmed. Pavel wanted to look at him (preferably without being asked What? or being grunted at). Really, there wasn't a more opportune time.
His eyes traveled McCoy's body: heavy and mature and dark with hair where Pavel's was light, almost scrappy, and, despite his distinct memories of hitting puberty, relatively hairless. (Honestly, he envied Leonard a little – only Pavel's legs even bothered to make a showing. The best sign that he'd become an adult was his fading freckles.) He watched Leonard's stomach rise and fall as he breathed and admired the thickness of his cock.
He let his thoughts trail back to the older man braced on the bed and the expanse of his back and his round, firm buttocks supported by muscular thighs. The entire circumstance of getting to stroke McCoy open and then watch himself disappear into his body remained incredible, even if it looked like he'd have to refine his technique. (Admittedly, he'd only had equally enthusiastic young men to practice on, before, where nothing was a mistake – just a source of hilarity.)
McCoy finally rubbed his eyes, peering down at him accusatively with a look of consternation Pavel knew well.
"—stop mooning and c'mere. Bring the blankets."
Pavel grinned and brought the blankets, pulling them up the length of the bed as he settled in beside Leonard on a mattress that was never quite big enough. McCoy didn't stay irritable, the glower relaxing off his face after they'd lain there looking at each other a moment and just before they leaned in to share a kiss. Pavel savored it, wanting to remember everything and knowing he would. Their lips only parted for McCoy to bark at the shipboard computer to turn off the lights. Their bodies moved together slowly, now, hands stroking casual, familiar caresses. They made themselves comfortable, finally settling in the embrace they'd fall asleep in, hands resting in intimate places – the dip of a waist just above the hip and the flat of a stomach.
Pavel smiled in the darkness, courage swelling. He whispered "I love you" against McCoy's body, not expecting to have his words returned, and shut his eyes.
McCoy silently tightened his embrace with the sigh of a man who'd been fearing something that didn't turn out to be as bad as he'd expected.
Pavel knew the score. Eventually, after lunch, or before one of them left for a duty shift, or while McCoy was on the computer and Pavel was reading a PADD, or just maybe next time they ended up in the same bed McCoy would say it back as if there hadn't been a three day pause in the conversation.
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"It took Pavel from the position of an occasional distraction to an individual McCoy took full responsibility for the emotional well being of"
That's such a simple way to say something very complicated and it makes a lot of sense in their situation that McCoy as a doctor is reticent, or at least conflicted over the decision, to add someone else to the list of people he has to take care of.
"His stomach clenched when his thoughts turned to penetration – to baring his anus, well aware that dark hairs curled more profusely in the cleft of his body than Pavel's, and to sticking his legs up, thick as his thighs and calves were. He had a stubborn image in mind of how ridiculous he'd seem in contrast to how easy Pavel made it look."
I love this part because you don't often see Bones written as self-conscious or shy, but he feels he has reason to be because he compares himself to Pavel, it's a very realistic interpretation of what his feelings might be.
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But, seriously, it's fun to stretch my imagination to figure out how everything fits together (and when it doesn't quite).