the_deep_magic | FIC: Star Trek RPS -- First

Title: First
Author: the_deep_magic
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,033
Warnings: first person POV, roleplay, some light biting, mention of rimming, barebacking, schmoop
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true
Summary: I would never have imagined it, but here he is, waiting for my cues like he doesn’t know this dance by heart. Like he didn’t teach me most of the steps himself.
A/N: Obviously a bit different from my usual style, but hopefully still recognizable as mine.

“That’s what you want?”

“Oh, nice, Pine, you drag it out of me and then laugh at the answer.”

“Shit, no, I’m sorry. It’s just, with everything we’ve already done… I was really, really not expecting that.”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to do it.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’ll do it!”

“Yeah, but you’ll be laughing at me the whole time.”

“I won’t, I promise. It’ll be sexy.”

“Fucking better be.”

“That’s the spirit!”

&&&

We didn’t plan for it or anything, but I couldn’t exactly put it out of my mind. It’s the first time Zach’s ever been hesitant about asking for something, and I still feel like shit for laughing. It wasn’t funny, not really. It just seemed so… out of character, I guess.

It starts pretty much as a normal night – spaghetti for dinner, watching a stupid movie on the couch until we’re paying more attention to each other than the screen. I know something’s up when the end credits roll and Zach hasn’t put a hand below my waist.

“Hey,” I say, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Did you want… tonight?”

Zach blushes. He actually fucking blushes with his hand around the nape of my neck and his boner pressed into my hip and I just want to devour him right here. “Yeah, I do. I mean, if you—”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” I say quickly, stroking Zach’s cheek with my thumb. I study his face, trying to work out how I should play this, how slow and careful he wants it. “As long as it’s what you want. I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

For a second, I wonder if Zach is going to roll his eyes, but instead he lunges forward and kisses me impulsively, holding tight to my shoulders like I’m going to run away.

“Easy, easy,” I whisper, unable to keep from smiling at Zach’s enthusiasm. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, yeah?”

Zach nods, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and fuck, he is really into this. He stands first, taking my hand and tugging me back to the bedroom. He keeps his eyes forward, never once glancing back at me or stopping to drag me into a hard, wet kiss like he always does. Half the time we never even make it to the bed, and it’s rarely my fault. Or it is, if you listen to Zach’s tirade about my “stupid bubble butt, Jesus, how the fuck am I supposed to concentrate with you wiggling that thing around?”

Except Zach hasn’t said a word about my ass, and he somehow manages to blush even harder as he turns around and his eyes flicker down to the bulge at my crotch. His hands clench at his sides like he’s trying not to reach out and I realize this is going to be a really long night. If I’d known, I probably would’ve jacked off first to give myself some fucking patience for this. But maybe that’s part of what he wants – me having to hold back.

“C’mere,” I say, giving him my sweetest, laziest smile. He walks forward like a man in a trance and my hands don’t go straight for his ass as they usually might. Instead, I set them lightly on his shoulders, one thumb tracing the few inches of exposed collarbone where his shirt has shifted aside. He shivers under my hands and kisses me gently, his mouth chaste even as his hands fist in my shirt. “How do you want me?” I ask against his lips.

“I… I don’t know.” Fuck if I’ve ever heard that pass Zach’s lips in the bedroom. Or living room. Or kitchen. Or laundry room. Or…

Shit, right, focus. “How about we take our clothes off?”

“Right,” he says with a nervous little laugh. “Like, we take off our own or we undress each other?”

“Each other. Can I start?” He nods, and I tug the hem of his shirt from his pants. He stays remarkably still as I peel it off of him, tossing it on the floor and he doesn’t even look at it, much less bitch at me to pick it up.

I hold my arms out to the side and he gets the hint, pulling my t-shirt up over my head and dropping it on the floor next to his own. His hands come right back to my skin as soon as they’re free, stroking down over my arms, fingers encircling my biceps and I flex a little, unable to resist showing off. He chuckles and smoothes his palms back up my arms, over my chest to rub at my nipples until I gasp, push into his hands and he backs off like he’s startled.

“No, it’s good,” I say quickly, grabbing his hands and putting them back against my chest. “For future reference, your hands on me is always a good thing.”

His smile is so shy my stomach twists, and when I finally get my hands to the front of his pants to unzip them, he’s actually shaking. I let go for a second and get rid of my own jeans and boxers first, not wanting him to be the first one naked, have to stand there all vulnerable, and I realize that he’s drawn me into this completely – I’m not playing at anything anymore.

I know his actual first time was pretty bad. He was in college in the Midwest and confused and horny and he went to a gay bar, got drunk, and threw himself at the first hot guy who gave him the once-over. Zach never even asked his name, just let the guy drag him into the back, yank his pants down, and fuck him with no prep and only the lube that was on the condom. The way he tells it makes it sound farcical, like the sluttiest I Love Lucy episode ever (you know, if Desi Arnaz ever got railed in a gay bar). But when he fucked me for the first time, he knew I’d never been with a guy before and he kissed me and sucked me and fingered me for like half an hour, ignoring my pleading and getting me right to the edge before he even started to push in. I came almost immediately, harder than I ever had before and I still get a little dizzy thinking about that night, the huge, goofy grin on his face afterward and the way his fingers curled possessively against my hip as we fell asleep in a tangle of sweaty limbs.

So, yeah, if he wants that kind of patience and tenderness, if he wants all my attention focused on his body’s every response to my touch, then it’s his. I’m his. And he knows it, even when I’m enough of a prick to laugh when he tells me, in a stuttered whisper, that his secret fantasy is for me to be his first.

Naked now, I kneel down in front of him, pressing my nose into the hair low on his belly and I can already smell him, that deep, earthy scent I’d know anywhere. I rub at his hipbones while my tongue dips into his navel, making him squirm. Just as he starts to rock his hips in earnest, I slide my fingers to the front of his pants and drag the zipper down. Nice, he’s wearing those dark gray boxer briefs that look and feel so good on him – not that I need the extra motivation, but I’m a tactile kind of guy, and that thick, hot bulge straining against the soft fabric? That totally does it for me.

I cup my hands around his ass and kiss his cock through the material, staying away from the sensitive head so as not to tease. I’m not trying to wind him up, not yet. He leans on me for balance as he steps out of his pants and I start sucking at him just a little. “Chris,” he says, a warning – he knows I’d stay down here all night if he’d let me, groping his ass and teasing his cock until his knees buckled.

With one last heaving sigh of a breath against the damp cloth, I stand up again, pulling him against me and kissing him without hesitation. We’re both a little breathless when he finally pulls away, his eyes wide and dark. He looks almost lost, overthrown, and I wonder if he was really like this the first time someone made him feel this way, like his blood’s been set on fire. Zach Quinto, mystified by sex – I would never have imagined it, but here he is, waiting for my cues like he doesn’t know this dance by heart. Like he didn’t teach me most of the steps himself.

I guide him gently to the bed, one hand on the small of his back where he’s so sensitive he leaps a foot in the air if someone pokes him. “Time to take these off,” I whisper with a soft smile, fingers brushing over the fabric still on his hips. “Wanna see you, all of you.”

He nods and pushes them down and off in one quick motion, almost seductive in its total lack of flirtation. And then he’s naked, breathtaking as always, and I take the time to really see him. We’re getting to that point where I take it for granted that he’s going to be in my bed when I want him there. Not because it’s boring – far from it –just a natural consequence of being with him all the time. I try to remember back to the first time I saw him naked. That cock scared the shit out of me. It’s no longer than mine but it’s thick, intimidating to a guy who’d only ever had two skinny fingers up his ass. Now it makes my mouth water, but then I had to keep cracking jokes to cover my nerves. I’ve always been amazed at how comfortable he looks in his own skin. A naked, aroused guy can be one of the more awkward sights nature has to offer, but he somehow always manages to make it look easy. Even now, when he’s shuffling his feet and looking away, he can’t hide the confidence in his bearing. The more I get to know him, the more I understand how that confidence was hard-won, and a fresh wave of lust and admiration hits me as I reach out to touch him.

His eyes focus intently on my hand as I wrap my fingers around his cock. The first time he touched me like that was in my trailer at three in the morning after a tough day’s shoot. It wasn’t unexpected, but I still nearly jumped out of my skin at the sensation of a big, strong hand that wasn’t mine. My eyes kept closing of their own volition, it was that good, but he kept telling me to open them, to look at him. At the time I thought maybe it was a control thing (and, fuck, was it ever working for me), but I think he wanted to make sure I knew it was him. Not some anonymous, genderless hand, but him – Zach – drawing the moans and pleas out of me.

And now I’m too far in my head, because I’ve had my hand on his cock for maybe five whole seconds without doing anything and I can tell it’s starting to test the limits of his fantasy. “You have a gorgeous cock,” I say at last, giving him a few appreciative strokes. “You want to fuck me with it? You can. It’d be so good.”

His eyes widen – he wasn’t expecting that. He swallows audibly before saying, “N-no. I want you to. Um. Fuck me.”

God, he’s adorable. It would absolutely kill the mood for me to say it and he’d take it the wrong way, but he is. The way he’s committed to this is like he’s really feeling first-time nerves, and it makes my heart ache a little. His cock, though, that little bastard tells the truth – he’s so turned on he can hardly see straight.

I smile at him again, warm and sweet. “I was hoping you’d say that.” I pull him against me, our naked bodies flush for the first time tonight and he rocks into my hip. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” I whisper right into his ear.

“No.”

“Perfect.”

Plunging against his mouth again, I back us up to the bed and by some small miracle manage to climb onto it backwards without stumbling or breaking the kiss. I hold Zach firmly by the hips and fall back, bringing him down on top of me, and even though I took him by surprise, he still manages to catch himself with his hands. “Interesting move,” he chuckles, his first slip of character all night.

“Works every time,” I say with a wink, then flip us over so he’s beneath me. His body goes rigid as he scrambles toward the head of the bed, pushing up on hands and knees and ducking his head out of sight. Now I do laugh, because he’s screwing with me – I once told him that, for the longest time, I thought gay guys only fucked doggie style. Since then, he’s proven me wrong several hundred times over.

I pat the tempting swell of his ass and lean down for a quick bite before saying, “On your back, babe. I want to see your face.”

He turns over again, still pushed up on his elbows and I gently apply pressure to his shoulders until he lies back on the pillows. “Relax. Let me do all the work.”

“Are you going to bite me again?”

I grin. “Do you want me to?”

His eyes dart to the side. “Yes,” he says softly.

“Then I’ll bite you all you want. Any requests?”

“M-my chest.”

Mmm, yeah. I nuzzle into his chest hair first, distracting him with it before leaning up and biting into the skin above his heart. It’s not a hard bite, only enough to sting a little, but he gasps so genuinely I have to repeat it on the other side. I take the answering moan as permission to keep going, alternating kisses and bites down his ribs to the flat plane of his belly. I ignore his cock for now, paying attention instead to the tender crease where thigh meets hip, licking down to his balls. I consider lifting them and giving him a good, thorough rimming – I’m still a novice, but my technique is improving and he never begrudges me the practice – but he’s wound up enough already, and I’m not sure I could last through it anyway. He practically fucking sings when I hold him open and shove my tongue into him.

So I kiss and lick my way back up to his mouth, more quickly on the return journey, until I’m kissing his lush, wet mouth again. I could lose myself here. I nearly did, the first time we kissed. Perhaps surprising to nobody, we talked it to death first. Discussed (argued) the risks, the consequences, whether I was serious about exploring this part of my sexuality, whether he was willing to get involved with another actor. He damn near talked me out of it, and I think I know why – the second we finally did kiss (long and sweet, his hands in my hair, my hip pressed into the counter in his kitchen) everything else became inevitable. The late night hand jobs, that patient, miraculous first fuck, the lazy afternoons in bed that followed, that one painfully awkward dinner with my parents, even the stupid arguments and the indulgent roleplaying. I was hooked from the first kiss.

And I’m doing that thing in my head again – something about being forced to go slow makes me reflective and sappy. But when we pull back, our lips raw and kiss-swollen, I wonder if he’s thinking the same things.

But, dammit, I have a job to do, and I’m going to fucking well deflower Zachary Quinto if it takes me all night. “Be right back,” I whisper, crawling over him to get the lube out of the nightstand. We haven’t bothered with condoms in a long time, so I hope he’s not counting on latex as part of the illusion. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice it, distracted by my hand as I pour on the lube and reach down. “You ever been touched here before?”

He shakes his head, gasping as my fingers reach their tight, puckered goal. “Only my own fingers.”

Fuck. My fingers twitch and a drop of precum jolts out of my neglected cock as the mental picture hits me: a young Zach flat on his back in the dark, his fingers greased with whatever he could find – olive oil, maybe, or butter – and playing with his hole, biting his lip to hold back the sound when his fingertips push past that first ring of muscle. His other hand practically flying over his cock, hips pushing off the bed. I bet he came that first time before he even found his prostate.

I have to look away for a moment, pinching hard at my own cock to keep from completely embarrassing myself. It would make an odd sort of sense; he’s roleplaying the virgin and I’m the one that comes before we even get started. But the wave passes and I can focus on him again, pressing gently but firmly at his hole.

He takes the first finger easily and I consider teasing him, something like You sure you haven’t done this before? but then I see his face, drawn up tight like the rest of his body and I fall back into my role with ease. “So good, Zach. You feel amazing.” I start to pump my finger in and out. “This okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Gonna add another one, alright?” He nods spastically and I pull out, pressing in again with two fingers and there’s a little more resistance this time. His muscles relax pretty quickly, but I don’t move on to three yet. Instead, I crook my fingers as I stroke.

“What are you—?” he starts. “Oh!” I graze his sweet spot with just enough pressure and his whole body locks up, trying to keep my fingers right where they are. “Again, please.”

Oh my, virginal Zach is an uninhibitedly loud creature. Not that regular Zach is quiet at all, but now he’s letting loose like it’s all new to him and I love it. God, to be the first person to give him this. Maybe this was for me as much as for him – I feel like some kind of ancient god of luxury and excesses, as I pleasure him with nothing but the gentle press of my fingers and he writhes underneath me like it’s just too good to stay still. I have to slow down to get a word in and he whines, but I talk anyway. “One more finger, yeah?”

“Yes!” he gasps, and the third stretches him tight. I spread my fingers a little on the outstroke, and though he doesn’t really need much stretching, I’m enjoying the hell out of this.

Finally, I still my hand and lean down to bite at his shoulder. “Gonna take my hand away now. You’re gonna feel empty, but I’ll be back soon.” He nods, then groans as I withdraw. I grab a pillow and stuff it under his hips to get the best angle. When I line us up and the head of my cock touches his searing skin, I dig my fingers into his hips and pray for endurance.

I breach him slowly, feel him fighting to accept me and even though it’s no real struggle, I rub soothingly at his thighs and murmur, “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Open up for me. Oh, so fucking good, Zach. Is it good for you?”

He nods, as if the cock leaking against his belly isn’t proof enough. “Feels… strange,” he moans as I push in another inch.

“Strange is good,” I babble, just trying not to lose it and shove all the way in. “About to get better.”

Finally, I’m buried in him to the hilt and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep still, ignore the itch dancing down my spine that’s telling me to pull back and pump into him for all I’m worth. He shifts under me and I groan, dropping my head to his shoulder and panting against his skin. “Tell— oh, fuck —tell me when you’re ready.”

“Ready,” he growls, and I try to take it slow, but we’re both close already, so I settle for long, grinding thrusts that roll over his prostate like a bulldozer and he wraps his entire body around mine, so tightly that I actually have to push him away a little bit to get the leverage to thrust. His eyes are wide open, quick blinks like a camera shutter, like he’s trying to take as much of me in as he can, in every way he can. He moans yes and please, Chris and so good, never felt anything so good, and I believe him. God help me, I actually believe him.

The bed creaks in time with us. He wants to get a new one, but I’ll fight as dirty as I have to in order to keep this one. I’m addicted to the sound of us together, the way it seems like the whole world groans and twists with us when we fuck. I bury my face against his throat to lap up the taste of him, both of us slick with sweat now. He’s so beautiful, utterly fucking perfect, skin flushed and body surrendered completely to bliss, and I can’t see him like this, hear him like this, feel him like this and not give him all of me in return. I reach into the small, sweaty space between our bodies and fist his cock with a frantic rhythm, desperate to get him off before I lose it myself.

Distantly, I’m aware of wanting to stay here in this unspeakably sweet plateau right before the fall, where our whole bodies are straining to fuse together and for a few blissful moments, it seems like it just might be possible. But first times aren’t meant to last, and he cries out my name, convulses under me just as I feel the shiver across my skin that means there’s no more holding back and I fall hard, body trembling with the intensity of it.

Despite my best intentions, I end up pretty much smothering him, collapsing across his chest like a dead weight. I guess romantic playtime is over, because he jabs me in the ribs with a cruel, pointy finger and mutters, “Roll over, porky, you’re crushing my diaphragm.”

“Do you even know where your diaphragm is?” I groan, rolling off of him but he doesn’t let me get far.

He tugs me back against his side and wraps an arm around my waist. His chin is resting against the top of my head so I can’t see him, but I hear him sigh contentedly. “Chris, that was…”

“Yeah, it totally was.”

“Thank you.”

I smile against the tender skin at his throat. “If you thought I was just doing you a favor back there, I was obviously doing something wrong.”

“No, you know what I mean. Thanks for… doing the thing.”

He can’t even say it. See what I mean? Adorable. I rub my thumb across the skin above his hip; I’m not done with him yet. “So, my recently deflowered one,” I say, as casually as I can while lying naked against him, “I know you don’t have anything to compare it to, but how was it?”

He chuckles. “Gold star. Ten out of ten. Expect an extra cookie in your lunchbox.”

“As good as you always hoped?”

His voice goes suddenly soft as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Better.”