FIC: Star Trek RPS -- Bite Your Tongue

[the_deep_magic]

Title: Bite Your Tongue

Author:the_deep_magic

Pairing: Pinto

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 3,643

Disclaimer: So many lies, so little time.

Summary: for this prompt at the kink meme – Chris likes sex hard, fast, and rough. Slow, sweet, tender and loving? Scares the everloving shit out of him. Surprise surprise, Zach cures him of that particular nonsense once and for all as he shows Chris the difference between truly fabulous sex and making love.

Warning: This is at, like, Schmoop Factor 7. Just so you know.

A/N: ewinfic got here first, but I luuuuuuurve this prompt, and I don't think anyone here will complain! ;o)

 

 

It’s not that Zach’s unhappy with this. Far from it, in fact. But something’s missing.

 

At first the pace had been necessitated by the circumstances off the press tour – a quick fuck in a hotel room, a hurried blowjob in the green room before an interview, a subtle grope under the table at a panel. And it all felt so right, with Chris groaning around Zach’s cock or biting hard at Zach’s hand to keep from shouting loud enough to be heard through the thin walls. Once the premieres and the interviews were over, it made sense that the adrenaline carried over into their normal lives. After all, one slip-up, one kiss in public and they’d be risking their careers. The forbidden aspect has kept the tension high, enough so that they rarely even make it to a bed.

 

It’s not that Chris doesn’t know how to cuddle or be affectionate. Zach can’t count the number of times Chris has fallen asleep on his shoulder while watching TV or slipped an arm around his waist while Zach’s trying to cook. It’s just that he’s always got to make a joke of it, turn it into tickling or wrestling to make it guy-kosher. Or something.

 

It isn’t even that Zach’s said the L word and Chris hasn’t. It just slipped out over the phone one day – “Can you bring some mac and cheese with you when you come over? Love you. Bye.” Saying it like that was so natural that Zach didn’t even freak out, but he also won’t push it. He knows Chris will say it when he’s ready.

 

Or at least Zach thinks he will. 

 

Zach feels downright miserly to want more when he’s got Chris pinned beneath him, writhing and begging. There’s not a man alive whose control wouldn’t snap upon hearing oh god yeah fuck me harder please need your cock moremoremore falling from those gorgeous lips, and even if Zach starts with the gentlest of intentions, he ends up giving in and going as fast and rough as Chris can take. It’s exhausting – usually in a good way, but there are nights when Zach comes home from a 14-hour day on the Heroes set, having dealt with three major script changes to a particularly difficult scene, and just wants to collapse in Chris’ arms and maybe have his hair stroked a bit. He needs to find out if that’s ever going to happen.

 

 

 

It would be the perfect ending to this perfect Saturday. Zach got to sleep in and spend most of the afternoon lounging in the sun and reading something that isn’t a script. Chris came over and cooked fajitas. They talked and laughed through dinner, the combination of good wine and Chris’ laugh making Zach ache for what’s missing.

 

Then they’re on the couch, and though Zach is trying to keep his kisses slow and deep, his hands rubbing gently on Chris’ back, Chris is already grabbing at Zach’s shirt. Zach breaks away and tries to catch Chris’ wandering hands. “Slow down. Where’s the fire?”

 

Chris grins lewdly. “In my pants. Really, Zach, your set-ups are getting too easy.” He dives back down to Zach’s neck, nipping and biting while his hips push insistently against the older man’s. Chris sucks hard at the spot above Zach’s pulse, and it would be easier to slow a freight train at this point, but Zach is nothing if not stubborn. He scrapes his short nails at the small of Chris’ back, knowing the skin there is particularly sensitive, and uses the ensuing distracted shiver to slip free of the embrace.

 

Chris looks thoroughly gobsmacked and Zach has to laugh. “C’mon, let’s find an actual bed. I need to get that couch cleaned – it’s starting to smell too much like the dog.”

 

Chris obliges, and has his shirt off by the time they reach the bedroom. Zach would love nothing more than to take a few moments to ogle Chris in his jeans and nothing else. They’re ratty as hell and starting to fray through, but they’re also soft and tight and hang just a little too low on his hips. But before Zach can even get a good look, Chris is practically on top of him. Zach lets him remove his own shirt for equality’s sake, but catches his hands before they can make it to his fly.

 

Assuming it’s some kind of challenge, Chris nudges Zach over to the bed and topples them so that Zach lands above him. When the younger man starts talking, Zach nearly buckles again because nobody – nobody – can talk dirty like Chris Pine (“fuck yeah want your cock in me, fucking me raw”) and it would be so easy and so good to just give in.

 

But Zach musters up the will to grab Chris’ hands again, pulling his arms up so his wrists are pinioned above his head. Zach leans in to kiss him, but Chris keeps trying to bite at his lips and his tongue. Zach pulls back a little with a sigh but keeps his hold on the man beneath him.

 

Chris twists impatiently under him. “Hurry up and fuck me already,” he whines.

 

“No.”

 

“Please fuck me, Mr. Quinto,” Chris whispers, low and sweet, with a smile on his face like he knows all the answers.

 

Zach sighs again. “Chris,” he starts, dropping his forehead down to rest against the younger man’s.

 

“Have I been a bad boy?”

 

Zach wonders, not for the first time, whether they’re speaking the same language. “Look, can we just slow down for a minute?”

 

“Slow what down?”

 

“This. We know we’re good at fast and rough. Maybe it’s time to try something new.”

 

“Hmm. Y’know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been spanked.”

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

 

Chris laughs derisively. “Not turning into a girl on me, are you?”

 

Zach pushes his hips down to grind roughly against Chris’. “This feel like a girl to you?” he growls.

 

“No,” Chris whimpers, his eyes falling shut.

 

When Zach lifts back up and brings a hand down to touch his lover’s cheek, Chris looks genuinely confused. Zach’s looking at him steadily, and Chris seems anxious under that knowing gaze. He tries to twist his lower body out of Zach’s hold, but the older man simply brings his knees up so his weight pins Chris to the bed.

 

“What are you doing?” Chris demands.

 

“Just looking at you.”

 

“Cut it out – it’s creepy.”

 

“It’s creepy for me to look at you?”

 

“Like that it is. If you’re not gonna fuck me, let me up.”

 

“Not yet,” Zach says, trying to account for Chris’ growing look of alarm. Keeping Chris’ wrists firmly pinned with one hand, Zach uses the other to explore the younger man’s face – the arch of his eyebrow, the scar on his cheek, the fullness of his lips. Chris tries to pull Zach’s fingers into his mouth and lets out a huff of frustration when Zach runs his fingertips down the delicate skin at his throat instead. Zach leans in to trail his lips down the path traced by his fingers, a task made significantly more difficult by Chris attempting to thrash away under him.

 

When Zach lays his hand over Chris’ heart, the younger man buries his face in his arm and pleads, “Don’t.”

 

“This really bothers you, doesn’t it?” Zach tilts Chris’ face up to his own and is a little startled to see genuine panic there. “Why?”

 

“I don’t know,” Chris rasps, as though the words don’t want to come out. “I just want you to get on with it.”

 

“I know you do. But I’m not going to.” Zach looks into those lost blue eyes and knows Chris has been hurt. Someone somewhere along the way has made him feel bad for wanting more than a quick fuck. Chris is strong and capable, but he feels everything; Zach is one of the very few people who knew how nervous Chris truly was leading up to the Star Trek premiere. If Zach had to guess, he’d say some insecure waste of space probably said something teasing that cut Chris to the bone, something that replays in his head every time he comes close to intimacy. Maybe Chris will tell him the story one day, when he’s ready.

 

For now, though, Chris needs to get the hell over this. Zach would say as much, but he doesn’t want to add to whatever guilt complex is wreaking merry hell in Chris’ mind at the moment, so instead he strokes Chris’ hair, his face, his arms, while making his voice as soothing as he can. 

 

“It’s okay, you know. To play an objective other than ‘fuck me raw.’ To look at me and touch me without the express intent of getting me off as soon as possible. I know you know how, and we’ve got all the time we want now.” Chris’ breathing seems to have steadied but his eyes are still staring into the middle distance, so Zach continues. “It doesn’t make you weird. It doesn’t make you less of a man. You’ve got your huge cock for that, remember?”

 

Chris actually cracks a small smile at that, and Zach leans down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m gonna let you up now,” Zach says. “You have a choice. You can shove me over and have your way with me, and that’s how it’ll be. That’s all it’ll be. You can get up and walk out that door and we can talk about it another time. Or you sit up and take a few deep breaths and we can start again.”

 

As Zach lets go of Chris’ wrists and shifts his weight up and over, he finds he’s a little bit scared himself. He didn’t anticipate the turning point this has become, though maybe he should have. And – this is the hardest part – he lets the fear show, because he can’t ask Chris to be vulnerable without being a little vulnerable himself. 

 

Chris’ eyes dart over to the door for the briefest second and Zach forgets to breathe. But then Chris sits up and rubs his wrists and gives Zach the lost-puppy-dog eyes which are all the more irresistible when he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Then he reaches out a hand, and Zach doesn’t know whether to crumble inside or grin like an idiot, so he does a little of both.

 

Zach sits back on his knees and helps Chris up until he’s doing the same. They gaze at each other for a few long moments, Chris looking like he’s fighting not to either jump out of his skin or jump Zach’s bones.

 

“Close your eyes,” Zach says. Chris does, and Zach curls a hand around the back of his neck to pull him in close until their foreheads are touching. “Put your hands on my hips. Perfect.”

 

Zach runs a hand down Chris’ back, betting heavily on the fact that the younger man won’t be able to keep his own hands still. He doesn’t.   His hands sweep up Zach’s sides to pull him closer until his thumbs graze the older man’s nipples. Zach gasps, “Yeah, do that again.”

 

Chris’ eyes fly open, genuinely startled, but he does it again, circling one hardening bud with a teasing rhythm. As Zach’s eyes flutter shut with the sensation, Chris gets bolder, first with light pinches, then rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

 

Zach moans with unexaggerated pleasure. “Fuck, Chris, that makes me crazy. You have no idea. Like when I touch you here.” He brushes the pads of his fingers over the small of Chris’ back again, eliciting a gasp, and brings his lips so close to Chris’ ear that they graze the lobe as he speaks. “When I found out how much you like this, I thought back to all the times I’d touched you there without knowing.”

 

“Made me hard every time,” Chris whispers, so raw and genuine that Zach can’t resist pulling Chris’ body flush against his own to feel the truth of the words. He grinds their hips together, feeling desperation in the press of Chris’ fingers against his skin and releasing him to keep things moving.

 

“Stand up,” Zach commands softly, rising to his feet as well.

 

Chris obeys. “Do we get rid of the pants now?”

 

“Yes, we get rid of the pants now.”

 

“Thank god.” Chris’ smile is sweet and shy like Zach’s never seen before, and he adds it to the long mental list of amazing things Chris can do with his mouth.

 

“Let me,” says Zach, unbuttoning the younger man’s jeans. He takes hold of the waistband of both pants and boxers and slowly pushes them down Chris’ legs, keeping contact with his skin all the way down to his ankles. Chris dutifully steps out of the puddle of clothing, but Zach stays crouched on the floor. He runs his hands up Chris’ calves, feeling the flex of muscle as Chris sways forward slightly.

 

Chris has gorgeous legs, really, lean and strong like a runner’s. They don’t get nearly enough attention, and Zach sets out to remedy that. Chris widens his stance and braces himself on Zach’s shoulders as the older man explores with eager hands and lips. Zach is dragging his lower lip up the inside of Chris’ thigh and gently scraping his fingernails across the tender crease where ass becomes leg when he hears a strained “Zach, please” from above.

 

Zach pulls back and meets Chris’ eyes, which are nearly black with lust. “What do you want?” Zach asks, slowly getting to his feet. “Tell me and it’s yours.”

 

“Your mouth,” Chris whispers, as though he’d rather beg than just ask for it.

 

With a teasing smile, Zach brushes his lips over the other man’s in a brief, unsatisfying kiss. “Is that good?”

 

“No,” breathes Chris. “On— on my cock.”

 

And he’s been so good and so patient that Zach favors him with a lingering kiss and a slow pull at his leaking erection. “Lie down.”

 

Chris obeys, limbs slightly clumsy with lust, as Zach rids himself of his own pants. He settles between his lover’s spread legs and surveys the delectable sight in front of him. Chris is starting to get that nervous, fidgety look again, so Zach has mercy on him and drops his head to lick and suck at the base of his cock. Zach keeps his movements slow, deliberate, running his hands over Chris’ thighs and hips. The younger man is squirming with the effort of keeping his hips still, and his hands are fisted in the bedsheets as much to keep him from speeding things up as from pleasure.

 

Their positions are usually reversed, and Zach feels Chris rapidly coming undone from the fervent attention. When Chris finally loses the battle to keep his hips immobile, Zach relents and takes Chris as deep as he can, hollowing his cheeks with suction. He slips his hand beneath Chris’ balls and presses gently at his perineum, which is what finally sends his lover over the edge. Chris comes with a wordless cry, and Zach guides him through it, swallowing everything he can.

 

Zach lets Chris’ cock slip from his mouth and begins to kiss his way up the younger man’s body, feeling the fine tremors in his abs and chest. He lets Chris pull him up into a deep, breathless kiss and settles down alongside his body. As Chris comes back to himself, he notices Zach’s erection pressing at his hip.

 

“You didn’t—“ he starts, but Zach cuts him off.

 

“Shh. It’ll keep. ‘Specially with you here. Just relax for a minute.”

 

Chris rolls toward Zach until they’re pressed together from head to toe, and a minute turns into many. This time, Zach doesn’t have to work to keep the pace slow – Chris is kissing him softly, wrapping an arm around his back to pull him closer. It’s exactly what Zach needs, and he tries to tell Chris without words, using the heat of his hands and mouth.

 

But even Zach can’t hold out forever, and when Chris threads one of his legs between Zach’s, the older man is soon rocking his own hips into Chris’ thigh. Chris smiles into the kiss and slides his hands down to Zach’s ass. He squeezes once, then pulls away.

 

“I want…” Chris starts, his smile faltering a little. “I want you to make love to me.”

 

And the words sound a little awkward, unpracticed, but Zach nearly breaks over the fact that he’s said them at all. He didn’t really know how badly he’d needed to hear the words until he’d heard them, and he struggles to take in breath as their weight presses against his sternum. Fortunately, Chris has the presence of mind to shift back, rolling so Zach’s on top of him again. It’s Zach’s turn to feel clumsy as he scrabbles on the bedside table for the lube while Chris’ hands rub at his sides.

 

Chris is so relaxed already that Zach’s slick finger slides in easily. He’s pleased to see that the younger man is already getting hard again, and when Zach’s fingers find his prostate, Chris’ cock twitches and he lets out a low moan. Zach tries to take his time, he really does, but Chris is so hot and open, body already flushed with one orgasm and working its way toward another, and Zach couldn’t resist that for the world.

 

He strokes himself with his slick hand, then positions himself at Chris’ opening. He pushes in slowly while he watches the feeling register across his lover’s face – first the intrusion, then the acceptance, then the surrender to the sensation of being filled. Chris reaches his hand up to touch Zach’s face as his thighs wrap around Zach’s hips. “C’mon,” he whispers. “Wanna feel you.”

 

Zach pulls back to thrust hard and deep, and Chris rolls his hips up to meet him. For all his good intentions, Zach can’t help but speed up, though he angles each stroke so that Chris never stops making that soft, low sound that’s slowly driving Zach out of his mind. He loses track of the words falling from his lips – how much he wants Chris, how he loves him like this, so gentle and honest, how he never wants to leave the intoxicating heat of his body – but the words matter less than the fierce love behind them.

 

Then Chris is coming – less intense than before but just as beautiful to watch – and gasping, “Come for me Zach, please, wanna see you” and Zach’s climax washes over him in long, searing waves. When his arms can’t hold him anymore, he tries to fall to the side to avoid crushing the younger man, but to his surprise Chris pulls Zach down on top of him and hold him there. In the aftermath, Chris won’t quite meet Zach’s eyes and he’s holding on a little too tight, but it’s so good just to lie there and feel Chris’ heartbeat slow under his hands.

 

When they finally separate, Zach drops a kiss at Chris’ hairline and goes to the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean them both off. When he comes back, Chris is propped up on one elbow and his mouth is working like he wants to say something but can’t.

 

“I—“ he starts, but then his eyes sink shut and his teeth dig into his lower lip.

 

Zach is back on the bed, gathering Chris into his arms in an instant. He knows what Chris is trying to say, but now that he’s felt it, hearing the words isn’t so important anymore.

 

“S’okay,” he whispers into Chris’ hair. “You can’t say it for the first time right after sex anyway. Then I won’t know if it’s because you mean it or because I’m such a sensational lay.”

 

Zach feels a watery chuckle against his shoulder. “You’re good, Quinto, but you’re not that good,” Chris mumbles, the slight tremble in his hands telling a different story.

 

“Bite your tongue. No, never mind – let me.” Their mouths meet in a slow, lazy kiss that doesn’t so much end as dissolve into a languid embrace, Chris sprawled half on top of Zach with his face buried in the older man’s neck. And Zach’s happy – more than happy, really. Content. Ready to deal with whatever shit life (or, more likely, his agent) is about to throw at him, because the man he loves is utterly satisfied and pliant in his arms.

 

The first time Zach hears it, he thinks Chris is talking in his sleep, which is odd for two reasons: he’s never done it before, and he genuinely ought to be in a sex coma after the events of the last hour. But the second time, there are definitely syllables – “sh’tru” – even if Zach has no idea what they mean.

 

He cranes his neck to try to get a look at Chris’ face when his lover’s head pops up, nearly smacking him in the chin. “Aishiteru,” Chris says. “I just remembered that. Je t’aime. Umm… Ich liebe dich.”

 

“Chris, you don’t—“

 

“Shut up, I knew a whole bunch of these once. Ti amo. Wo ie ni. Mahal kita.”

 

Zach raises a very Spock-like eyebrow at the last one. “Tagalog,” Chris supplies.

 

“Now you’re just showing off.”

 

“Damn right,” says Chris. “But that’s all I’ve got for now.” He settles back down atop Zach.

 

“You don’t have to impress me, you know,” Zach whispers.

 

“Maybe I do, a little.”

 

With that, Zach’s heart breaks a little, then heals when Chris tugs Zach’s arm to lie across his hips. “Just… every now and then, I need… this.”

 

“It’s yours,” Chris says as he drifts off to sleep. 

Comments

[the-deep-magic.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I'm glad the other languages didn't feel tacked on. It made sense in MY head, but you know how that goes...