the_deep_magic | FIC: Star Trek RPS -- Into the White

the_deep_magic

Into the White

Author: the_deep_magic

Pairing: Pinto

Rating: NC-17 (no, seriously, it’s filthy y’all)

Warnings: D/s, dirty talk, bondage, flogging, flagrant abuse of an innocent wall

Word Count: 4,425

Disclaimer: Resemblance of characters to any actual people, living or dead, is entirely intentional. But this didn’t happen anywhere outside my head, and no offense is intended.

Summary: For this prompt at the kink meme: Pinto. Chris is getting overwhelmed with all of the publicity/papparazzi/limelight, and the only way for him to relax is for Zach to put him into subspace.

A/N: First time writing RPF. Also by far the kinkiest thing I've ever written. I feel like I’ve crossed some sort of line between “going to hell” and “going to the special hell.” Did I mention I wrote this while on vacation with my family? On the balcony. Because the salt air is so good for my laptop. Be nice?

Zach hears it before he even opens the door.

Ka-thunk smack

He follows the sound into the living room, where Chris is sprawled out on the floor, partially propped up against the sofa and winging a racquetball against the wall. If the rhythm is soothing – the little blue ball hits the wall, then the floor, then smacks back into Chris’ hand – the look on Chris’ face is anything but calm.

Ka-thunk smack

The pictures rattle on the wall with each impact. Zach lets it go on for a few more rounds before speaking up. “What’d that wall ever do to you?”

Chris misses the ball entirely and – god, he must be wound pretty tightly – springs up to his feet.

“Jesus. Don’t you knock?”

“I did,” Zach says, picking up the ball. “Twice. Called three times before that.”

Chris saunters up to Zach. “Haven’t been answering the phone.” He grabs the racquetball back, then unceremoniously drops back down to his spot by the couch.

“No lie,” says Zach, barely covering a sigh. Chris is in a pissy mood. Zach does not like Chris’ pissy moods. “Who lit the fuse on your tampon?”

“Cute.” Chris’ next throw is harder, a little wild, and he has to all but dive to the side to catch the ball. “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dealing with people today.”

Walking toward the kitchen, Zach decides to let Chris and the wall work it out. He goes for the fridge with low expectations, but is still surprised by the complete lack of substantial food. There’s a mostly-empty jar of mustard, half a dozen processed cheese slices, and a scattering of ketchup and soy sauce packets. “This is pathetic, even for you,” he calls out, voice echoing out of the mostly empty fridge. “When was the last time you went out?”

“I dunno,” Chris replies, a little too loudly and bitterly, punctuated with another ka-thunk smack. “Why don’t you go online and find out?”

Oh. This again.

Chris continues. “No, really, there’s gotta be dozens of pictures of my last trip to the grocery store. Do you know what kind of chips I like? Well, so does anyone with a modem.”

Zach can’t begrudge him this – he has his own fits of pique over the peculiarities of celebrity, but he’s almost positive he was never as whiny as Chris. No, that’s probably not true; he’s just better at hiding it. Part of what he loves about Chris is the younger man’s ease at expressing himself, letting his emotions play right there on the surface instead of holding them back.

It’s just that this particular mood has been surfacing disproportionately often in the past few weeks, and Zach is a bit sick of it. He’s tried reasoning with Chris – this is the price he pays for being talented and attractive and lucky, and it’s entirely worth the creative control it earns him – and he knows Chris understands. He’s not trying to be peevish; he’s just genuinely annoyed.

Problem is, Zach is getting genuinely annoyed. But he’s flexible – if one tactic isn’t working, he’ll try another. And this certainly warrants a new tactic. Zach strides purposefully back to the living room.

“Chris.”

Nothing.

“Chris.”

Ka-thunk smack

“Christopher Whitelaw Pine.”

This earns him a racquetball thrown at his head. Zach manages to not only catch the ball, but also suppress his own surprise at actually catching it. It certainly adds to the dramatic tension of the moment.

“Get the fuck over it.”

Zach rarely swears, so the four-letter word alone carries enough weight to shut Chris up. For about two seconds.

“Who the fuck are you to say that?” Chris is on his feet now, stalking Zach like a big cat after its prey. It’s adorable, really. Zach just manages to keep a straight face. “You get to play queer all you want and no one fucking bats an eye. I so much as fucking hold your hand in public and my whole goddamn career’s ruined. No one wants a Captain Kirk who fucks other men. That would be un-fucking-American.”

It’s nothing Zach hasn’t heard – or thought through, or lamented – before, but all the misplaced anger in the world isn’t going to change it. Maybe Zach had an easier time coming to terms with it, but Chris needs to find his own peace before he burns out completely. And Zach’s starting to formulate a solution.

“Classy, Christopher,” he says when Chris is practically in his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Nice, Zachary. Now I get to be mocked. You wanna tape this and post it to YouTube, too?”

“Only if I get to come on your face at the end.”

With this, Chris roars and actually lunges bodily at Zach, who has already braced himself for it. He backs them both into the much-abused wall, grabs Chris’ wrist and locks it behind his back. Before the younger man has a chance to respond, Zach has him pressed face-first to the wall. When Chris tries to kick back at him, Zach yanks Chris’s wrist up until he yelps in genuine pain. Zach braces his other forearm across Chris’ shoulders, slamming his upper body roughly into the wall.

Unable to gain any physical leverage, Chris lets loose with a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush. Zach doesn’t even know what some of them mean, but is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know.

When Chris pauses for breath, Zach idly asks, “You finished?” Chris is not. He directs more than his fair share of curses at Zach, particularly his maternal lineage, and Zach decides he is really going to enjoy this. He lets Chris tire himself out, focusing on the hard, writhing body he’s pressed up against. Chris is nothing if not passionate, and if that characteristic occasionally manifests as furious profanity coupled with scorching arousal, well, he can deal with it.

Zach decides he’s had enough and gives Chris’ arm another painful tug, reminding him just who’s in charge here. “God, the mouth on you, Christopher,” he snarls into his captive’s ear, and the slight twitch in Chris’ hips tells him everything he needs to know. Zach shifts against Chris so the younger man can feel his growing arousal.

“You’re actually getting off on this, you fucker,” Chris grates out, conveniently ignoring the fact that he’s so desperate for friction himself that he’s rhythmically grinding his hips into the wall.

“More to the point, I think you are.”

“Fuck off.”

“Is that what you really want, Christopher? Because I could leave right now. I could let you go and walk out the door and leave you like this. Better yet, I could jerk myself off in front of you first, then leave like none of this ever happened.”

The sound that breaks from Chris’ mouth (and Zach feels it first, rumbling up from deep in his lover’s chest) is entirely animal, half frustration and half primal need. It might just be Zach’s overactive imagination, but the walls seem to shake with it, like Chris has hit the resonant frequency of the world around him and this is what Zach was after all along, for Chris to sink deep into his body and forget about everything else for a while. Now Zach just has to keep him there.

“What do you want, Chris?” Zach loves saying his name like this, like he owns it. “You want me to pull down your jeans and fuck you right here?”

Chris lets out a sob.

“You think you’re ready for it? Just spit and go? Let me tell you, Christopher, it’s going to hurt. I won’t play nice. It’s gonna hurt like nothing else you’ve ever felt. You’ll feel me in you for weeks.”

Chris goes completely still beneath him, sweat dripping down the back of his neck and eyes screwed shut.

“Do it.”

Zach’s heart stops dead in his chest.

“No.”

“Goddamn it, don’t jerk me around – just fucking do it!”

“No. That’s not what you deserve. That’s not what you need. If you want anything today, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re going to go to your bedroom, take off your clothes, and get on the bed. Then you’re going to make yourself ready for me. Really ready – if you skimp on the prep, I’ll know, and you’ll get nothing. I mean it.”

Zach gives one last tug on Chris’ captive arm, then steps back and releases him. “Go.”

Chris walks away without meeting Zach’s eyes, making a beeline for the bedroom like a man in a trance.

&&&

It isn’t until Chris has left the room that Zach feels his heart start to beat again. He has to lean back against long-suffering wall to keep from collapsing on the floor. That had escalated very quickly. Zach had thoroughly intended to boss Chris around a little bit, get him out of his own head, but somewhere in there, Zach had discovered just how much he liked having Chris under his control.

He knows he has a bit of a… dominant streak in him, but it usually extends no farther than a few possessive bite marks and a need to get the last word in. This is something else entirely. He closes his eyes, trying to restore his breathing to something approximating normal and think this through.

Zach knows what he wants now, and he thinks it might just give Chris what he needs. But he has Chris’ safety to think about, aside from his own peace of mind. He takes a deep breath and mulls it over. He already knows he has limits – Chris had called his bluff earlier, and Zach found himself unwilling to hurt Chris in that way, even if he asked for it.

But the thing – the thing that is simultaneously crushing his chest and making his head float – is that Chris trusts him with this. They’ve been dating for months and while Zach has never specifically asked Chris, he’s pretty sure this is new territory for both of them. If Chris trusts him, they can figure this out together.

He hears Chris rattling around in his bedside table and snaps back to the present. Zach has learned, as an actor and a person, to trust his instincts, and his instincts are being exquisitely clear right now. He wills himself to a near approximation of calmness while giving Chris time to get ready, then rolls up his sleeves, kicks off his shoes, and makes for the bedroom.

&&&

When Zach reaches the bedroom, Chris is still fingering himself roughly, without enjoyment, the tension in his jaw readily apparent.

“Very nice, Christopher. Should we set up a webcam?”

Chris is up on his knees in a second, anger flashing in his eyes as Zach shoves him back on to the bed. Zach pins his wrists on either side of his head and sits down heavy across Chris’ thighs. Chris struggles, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw Zach off, but his cock is thickening with inevitable arousal.

Zach leans down into the younger man’s face. “Uh uh. No more fighting. If you want this, you’re going to be still and take it.”

“Then you better tie me down.”

It takes all of Zach’s restraint to keep from flipping Chris over right then and fucking him into the mattress. Instead, he pulls himself away from Chris completely, ignoring the tempting whimper and heading for Chris’ closet. For variety’s sake, he grabs a tie, a leather belt, and the softest scarf he can find.

When he returns, Chris is stretched out on the bed, ass and fingers shiny with lube, displaying himself to great advantage. Arrogant bastard, Zach thinks, though the small, hopeful gleam of mischief in Chris’ eyes reassures him. Even if he does intend to thoroughly wipe it out and replace it with something a little more compliant.

Grabbing Chris’ hands, Zach stretches his lover’s arms over his head. He ties his wrists together with the scarf, then ties the scarf to the headboard, silently wishing they’d actually taught knot-tying in Boy Scouts. He doesn’t seriously think Chris is going to try to escape, but he wants the knots to be secure enough that Chris knows he means business.

When he pulls back, Chris is glancing him over with lidded eyes, and Zach takes the time to return the favor. Chris isn’t shy about his body for a damn good reason – it’s gorgeous. Broad shoulders, strong arms, firm belly, narrow hips, all of which Zach appreciates more because he knows how hard Chris works for it. Zach doesn’t have to fake his hungry stare or the tongue that comes out to lick his lips; Chris is spread out and open, all for him, and he can have whatever he likes, as much as he likes. The thought makes him dizzy.

Chris is blushing now as he tests the strength of his bonds, flush spreading all the way down his neck and to his chest, and that’s what spurs Zach into action – the fact that he can make this beautiful, guttermouthed man blush so openly. Zach climbs on to the bed and, without preamble, works two fingers into Chris’ hole.

Chris deserves a reward for following Zach’s instructions so well. As Chris cranes his neck to look, Zach twists his wrist as he pumps his fingers into the younger man’s willing body. Zach had rolled up his sleeves for a reason – he knows Chris loves his hands, loves watching the muscles in his arm work, and Zach loves to watch him watch. Zach nudges his prostate on the next stroke, and Chris throws back his head and moans his lover’s name.

Stunning. Utterly stunning – and entirely too distracting. Zach pulls his hand away and Chris whines at the loss of contact.

“From now on,” Zach says as he crawls up Chris’ body, “no more talking. No more noise at all.” He looks Chris full in the eyes, indulging himself by running his thumb over Chris’ lower lip.

Chris nips lightly at the thumb by his mouth and asks, “What are you going to do, gag me?”

Zach quirks a menacing eyebrow. “No. You’ve gotta keep your mouth shut on your own. I want you to be aware of everything you feel, every way your body responds to what I do to you. Think you’re up to it?”

Accepting the challenge, Chris shoots Zach the hottest, dirtiest look he’s ever seen. And he’s seen some good ones. “Fuck me, Quinto.”

“Not if you keep talking, I won’t. That’s the last thing you’re gonna say for a while, because if I hear any more, I will leave you trussed up like this until I damn well feel like coming back.”

Chris’ eyes shoot daggers, but some of the tension in his jaw actually relaxes as he settles his shoulders back against the bed. Still fully clothed, Zach begins a slow exploration of Chris’ body with his hands. He starts with the younger man’s outstretched arms, running his fingers from wrists to shoulders, feeling the lithe muscle tighten under his hands.

When he reaches the younger man’s shoulders, Zach realizes he hasn’t kissed Chris yet, and remedies the situation immediately. It’s so hard to avoid sinking into it; Chris’ mouth is every bit as good as it looks, lush and sweet despite its earlier cruelty. Zach takes control of the kiss, holding Chris’ face between his hands and wantonly licking into his mouth. The free reign Zach has over his lover’s mouth is heady, emboldening, and he has to pull back before he loses himself completely.

Without giving Chris time to catch his breath, Zach licks and sucks his way down the younger man’s neck, stopping only to bite deep into the swell of his shoulder. Chris jerks under him but stays quiet, which Zach rewards by pressing his hips down, giving Chris a brief moment to grind up against him before pulling back.

It’s truly bizarre to be pressed up against Chris’ body without hearing his voice. From the very first his voice had been a huge turn-on for Zach, but its absence gives him the focus to concentrate on Chris’ body’s reactions to the sensations he loves. The stutter in his breathing when Zach nips at his collarbone. The jump in his pulse when Zach closes his mouth around a nipple, then blows cool air across it. The twitch in his abs when Zach plunges his tongue shamelessly into the younger man’s belly button.

Zach is paying so much attention to Chris that he nearly forgets the throbbing in his own cock along the inseam of his jeans – nearly. He bites down hard on Chris’ hipbone, then pulls back to shuck his shirt. Chris makes a noise of surprise when he does, then slams his eyes shut and buries his face against his arm, immediately realizing his mistake.

Hands stilling at his belt, Zach chuckles, low and devious. “I’m surprised you held out this long, Christopher. But I warned you, and now you have to pay the price.”

Zach worries that he sounds ridiculous, but Chris looks genuinely anxious as Zach reaches for the tie he brought out earlier. He pulls the soft material through his fingers, then hauls back and slaps it down across Chris’ chest. The fabric is too light to do any real damage, but as primed as Chris is, he gasps at the impact.

As Zach secures the tie over Chris’ eyes, he momentarily regrets his earlier decision to leave his lover’s mouth free – the mental image of Chris gagged with his own tie is delicious. But there will be other times. At least Zach hopes there will, if he gets this right.

He strips off his jeans and underwear, taking the time to look Chris over again. His arms are relaxed in their bonds now, and his cock, though so far neglected, is flat up against his belly, leaking slightly at the tip. Zach palms himself roughly, not bothering to hold back his own grunt of pleasure. Chris jerks his head in the direction of the sound, body alert and thrumming with arousal, but despite his position, not helpless. Never helpless.

Without giving Chris any warning, Zach climbs back up on the bed and licks a hot stripe up Chris’ cock, swirling his tongue around the head before taking him deep in his mouth. It costs Chris dearly to keep from moaning, but he does, and Zach rewards him, sucking hard as he bobs his head. The sudden stimulation has Chris right on the edge. Zach feels Chris balls tighten, and pulls away before he can come. He wraps his fingers around the base of Chris’ cock and squeezes slightly, making the younger man arch hard and throw his mouth open in a silent scream.

“You didn’t think you were getting off that easy, did you?” Zach’s voice comes out rough, threatening, and Chris thrashes as best he can. “No, I’m having entirely too much fun with you.”

Zach leans over Chris, knowing the man underneath him can feel the heat of his body as he does so, and grabs the belt off the bedside table. He folds it in half, then cracks it loudly. Chris actually bites down on the side of his arm to keep from crying out.

“Mmm, so much potential. What do you think, should I start here?” He taps the belt lightly across Chris’ chest. “Or here?” Zach leans forward and brings it down a bit harder on Chris’ forearm. “Or here?” He twists his wrist and slaps the end of the belt on the outside of Chris’ hip.

Inspiration strikes. “No, I’ve got a better idea.”

Zach scoots back on the bed, positioning himself between Chris’ legs. He hooks his hands under the younger man’s knees, bringing his legs up and spreading them slightly. Zach places his hand on Chris’ knee, adjusts his grip on the belt, and – with a last, fervent hope that he knows what he’s doing – brings it down full across the inside of his lover’s thigh.

Chris’ whole body jerks hard, but he doesn’t try to move his leg away. Zach lets Chris recover from the first blow – hell, stops to catch his own breath – and watches as a narrow strip of skin begins to turn pink. He raises he fingers to it and gently, delicately touches the mark. The skin is heated, slightly raised, and Zach wonders if he’s ever seen anything so lovely in all his life. He bends to feel that heat on his lips, kissing the small wound with great reverence.

“Beautiful,” he whispers against his lover’s flesh.

He hears Chris let out a huff of breath and remembers how patiently he’s been waiting. Zach repositions himself, draws back the belt, and strikes. He waits for the space of two heartbeats, then strikes again. Then again. And again. He aims carefully, keeping his blows well away from the delicate skin of Chris’ scrotum. Soon he is bringing his arm down in rapid succession, watching as the pink streaks blur into each other. He forgets himself, forgets everything that isn’t the sight, the sound, the feeling of the belt slapping against Chris’ skin, so he almost misses the tiny whimper from up on the bed.

Zach pauses, feeling the sweat he didn’t know he’d shed cooling on his forehead, and sees the blood on Chris’ lip – he’s bitten down hard enough to break the skin. Zach immediately drops the belt and crawls up Chris’ body, kissing away the streak of red at his lover’s mouth. Slowly, he coaxes Chris’ mouth open and soothes him with a slow, gentle kiss.

When he pulls back, he just barely manages to keep his voice stern. “I’m the only one allowed to hurt you today. You can make noise now.” Chris moans gratefully at this. “But still no talking.”

Chris is rolling his hips up now, begging for attention with his body, and Zach doesn’t disappoint. He returns to his position betweens Chris’ legs and turns his attention to the other leg.

“God, you should see yourself like this.” Smack “All open and spread out for me.” Smack “All mine.” Smack “Pain looks fucking gorgeous on you.” Smack

Chris’ cries grow louder, sharper, with each stroke of the belt and, yeah, Zach decides he likes this a lot better when he can hear his lover’s voice. There’s red layering in among the pink on Chris’ skin, and Zach’s arm is going to be sore tomorrow, but it’s all worth it for the vision of Chris, entire body drawn up tight as a bowstring, leaking cock bouncing off his stomach with each hit. When Zach stops, Chris is shaking, his legs falling open, and Zach can’t take it anymore.

“You’re doing so well, Christopher,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady against shaking breaths. “Just a little more.”

Zach pushes his fingers inside Chris again, finding him relaxed and open, and chokes up his grip on the belt. Lightly, experimentally, he taps the end of the belt against the base of Chris’ cock, and Chris actually shouts, loud enough to rattle the walls. Zach does it again, a fraction harder, and the sound that wrenches its way from Chris’ throat is broken, desperate, and utterly depraved. He brings the belt down one final time as he lines his hips up, then pushes in one long thrust into Chris’ body.

Zach flings the belt away and pushes one forearm under Chris’ back, angling his hips up before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in. Chris wraps his legs around Zach’s waist, heels digging into his ass, and Zach knows they’re both gone. “Say my name,” Zach growls just before he loses the ability to think, and pounds into Chris with a rapid, brutal pace.

Chris keens, a long string of sounds that might be ZachohgodyesZachfuckmedontstopZACH before he’s coming hard between their joined bodies. Zach loses his rhythm in the maelstrom of Chris’ climax and follows him over the edge, crying out his own bliss against his lover’s skin.

He retains just enough presence of mind to withdraw and collapse beside Chris instead of on top of him. When Zach’s brain finally registers the limp body beside him, he has a split-second terror of oh god, I’ve killed him before he sees Chris breathing. With all the strength he has left, Zach reaches up and unknots the scarf. The knot is tight and it’s more difficult than he had imagined to undo, but the loop around Chris’ wrists still has some give.

Zach ignores the blindfold for the moment, unsure he can look Chris in the eye just yet, and slowly helps Chris bring his arms back down to his chest. Zach concentrates on rubbing his thumbs over Chris’ wrists and hands, kissing the younger man’s fingers as he helps bring the circulation back.

When Chris can move his hands again, he reaches for the tie covering his eyes, and Zach nearly stops him – but doesn’t. Zach has no idea what to say, what the proper protocol is after tying one’s boyfriend up, flogging him with a belt, and fucking him blind. He’s pretty sure Emily Post never covered this particular eventuality.

It turns out not to matter. Chris’ eyes are bright and full of something too deep to name. He pulls Zach in for a sweet, sloppy, pleasure-drunk kiss that goes on for days – weeks, maybe – before they both have to break for air. Somewhere along the way, Chris’ huffed breaths become chuckles, which become genuine laughs, which Zach manages to catch, and soon they’re both laughing as hard as their exhausted bodies will allow.

“That felt fucking insane,” groans Chris, voice like honey and gravel. Zach reaches down to touch the inside of Chris’ thigh lightly, and the younger man hisses.

“Okay?” Zach asks, his voice a little shaky with more than just fatigue.

“Yeah,” says Chris. “Next time, fewer strokes, but harder. Now get some fucking lotion, will you? I might have to, like, sit down tomorrow.”

Zach lets out the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. “Get it yourself. My arm’s about to fall off.”

“Nuh-uh, you do not get to complain about that,” Chris retorts, but Zach is already rising from the bed on unsteady legs, and Chris reaches out to try to swat his ass as he leaves.

He misses by a considerable distance.

Continued in Some Weird Sin and Comfortably Numb

Current Mood: nervous
Current Music: "Aeroplane" ~Red Hot Chili Peppers

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

sillee-g0ose.livejournal.com

OH HOLY GODZ THAT WAS SO HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE WRITE MORE.

From:

Spock happens.

FIC: Star Trek RPS -- Into the White

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