Chekov writhed beneath the hands driving him upwards towards ecstasy. Drowning in the feelings coursing through him, he raised a hand to gently stroke the upper arm of his captain. He closed his eyes as lips descended up on his neck, a moist tongue blazing a trail from the dip of his jaw down to the curve of his collar bone. He groaned and opened his eyes again as a deep chuckle set the bed vibrating gently.
Kirk braced himself on knees and elbows, body pressing against Chekov. Pavel swallowed at the sight of the desire in the captain's eyes. He stared, entranced by the play of light skin over solid muscle, the weight of Kirk heavy and imposing, commanding. The teasing hands were impossible to ignore as the skated across his sensitive rib cage.
The mattress shifted as Kirk rolled to his right, laying on his side while keeping a hand roving over Chekov's chest. Chekov made as though to move, but Kirk pressed a hand lightly on his chest, commanding without words.
"I want to look at you." Chekov shivered at the husky whisper. "You are so beautiful. All mine, and so beautiful."
Pavel bucked his hips involuntarily, seeking the still unfamiliar pleasure of the captain's touch. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered for at least the hundredth time. He still could barely believe that he was here, in Kirk's bed, making love with the captain. He whimpered as Kirk ran a finger along the hem of his underwear, the rest of his clothing, along with Kirk's lay scattered on the floor, Kirk having decided that his quarters were far too warm and their uniforms far too formal and uncomfortable. Stripped to their shorts -- Chekov trying to rein in his blush, and Kirk never taking his eyes of the younger man -- they reclined on the bed. Well, Kirk reclined, Chekov mused to himself. Pavel felt incredibly awkward and unsure of what to do. He felt as graceful as a Klingon bird of prey with one wing cut off.
"I...I...I don't know what to do." He blushed at the halting admission, and was surprised to see Kirk's gaze grow even more heated. The hazel eyes bore into his face, and he turned away, suddenly embarrassed. A hand grasped his chin, lips brushing by his ear.
"Then let me teach you."
Pavel watched as Kirk rose, splendid in his nudity, unashamed and radiating power. He licked his lips nervously as the captain retrieved a small cylinder from a bureau. Returning to the bed, Kirk stroked a hand down Pavel's flank. He bend his head, curls falling rakishly across his forehead. Hot air tickled Pavel's ear as strong teeth nipped gently at his ear lobe.
Silently obeying, Chekov pulled a plump pillow beneath him, supporting his chest and hips at Kirk's urging.
'Now, relax. Trust me." The whisper ghosted across his ears, just as the broad hands moved across the planes of Chekov's back, soothing and calming. Chekov let his himself go as nimble fingers slowly kneaded the tense muscles in the small of his back, stroking along his spine. He erection pressed against the mattress as he instinctively moved against the soft sheets.
"Mmm..." he groaned as Kirk's hands cupped his buttocks, squeezing them gently.
"Tell me what you want, Pavel." Kirk's voice was thick with passion, and Chekov floated on a sea of pleasure, not wanting to open his eyes in case it all turned out to be a dream.
"M...more..."He stammered as a finger slipped between his cheeks, teasing at his anus with soft strokes and gently prodding.
"Your wish is my command," Kirk murmured, pressing his finger into the opening that slowly allowed the invader. Chekov forced himself to relax, to take the onslaught of sensations. He was in good hands. The captain wouldn't hurt him. His fingers tightened in the soft sheet, bunching the material as the odd sensation slowly changed from fullness to pleasure. Chekov felt a sudden wave of pleasure, so great it bordered on pain. He instinctively reared back, wanting more. He was rewarded with another stroke that left him gasping, rocking his hips against the pillow. He allowed himself to float on the haze of feelings as he was carefully prepared, one finger following another.
It hurt. Just a bit. And his erection faded marginally at the feeling of incredible fullness. But it soon dissipated, replaced with breathtaking wonderfulness. Kirk slowly rocked his hips against Pavel's buttocks, working his erection into the night channel. Chekov was reduced to soft pants and moans. By the time Kirk was completely seated within him, Chekov was rearing back, desperate to enter into a rhythm as old as time.
Kirk did not disappoint, grasping his hips in those powerful hands and thrusting mightily, withdrawing with tantalizing slowness. Chekov cried out with each inward lunge, as the thick cock brushed his prostate. Kirk grunted, pressing onward, running a hand around to grasp Chekov's erection and pumping furiously.
They climaxed together, Chekov's going limp as he spasmed around Kirk's pulsating cock. He could feel the semen dripping between his buttocks onto the sheets. There was a damp kiss at his shoulder as Kirk withdrew, eliciting a swift intake of breath. Chekov winced. He didn't realize how sore he was going to be. But it was an erotic soreness that took away any regrets. He'd remember this night all day tomorrow when he sat his shift, there was no doubt.
Kirk rolled off Pavel pulling him into the circle of his arms, dark tousled head at the crook of his shoulder.
"Amazing. You're amazing," the captain whispered before closing his eyes in post-coital exhaustion. Chekov lay in Kirk's arms, wondering what he had done that he would be rewarded with such pleasure. And how he would be paying for it in the future.