A/N: The tittle is Complex by the kpop singer (Zion. T ft. G-Dragon).
My loves! It's been far too long and I can't even begin to tell you all how sorry I am for my extended period of absence. Sometimes life gets in the way and demands our attention far too often to settle down and do the little things we love to take up with our spare time. But here I am with this new chapter and I really hope I wrote it well because I was a little out of it while writing. The heat her in town is getting crazy horrible and I live with migraines. Bare with me guys I've never been to any motels/hotels in SanFran so don't hurt me if any thing sounds like crap, and I'm to tired to research right now so I'm gonna go with a motel 6 type of setting okay?
"Sam?!"
The man laughed watching Chekov try to wrap his mind around the new information. He walked into the bathroom filling a cup with water and brought it back to the boy with a smile. Chekov eyed him warily but took the glass thankfully gulping greedily.
"Hey kid, slow down! You're gonna drown yourself!" A loud fit of coughing and spewing water had Chekov fighting for air. Sam could only pat the boy's back not wanting to scare him. After a few more coughs, the boy looked back up with wide eyes, weather he was frightened or amazed the older couldn't tell the difference.
"Holy shit you're Sam!"
"Ya, like I was saying- "
"But you're Sam!" Sam sighed letting the boy continue his rant.
"Oh my gosh! You're Sam! And you're alive! And Jim! Oh Jim?! Jim's going to flip his shit when he finds out!" Sam's eyes bulged as he threw his hands out covering the boys mouth looking around the place like his brother might pop out at any minute.
Now calm down or you'll get security called up here! No one's telling Jim anything, until I find out where his is alright?" Chekov blinked and nodded.
Sam released his grip over the boys' face and walked away with another long sigh plopping down on the bed. Chekov wandered over cautiously standing near the edge of bed but a second glance at the man had Chekov smiling sadly, Sam wasn't a threat. If anything he looked tired, he wondered if this is what his grandmother looked like after he left Russia.
The bed dipped making Sam look up at the boy smiling trying to come off with a friendly vibe, it only made the older laugh.
"You're something else kid, maybe that's why Jim's stuck to you…" Chekov smiled.
"Maybe… Jim's like the older brother I never had. Well, except for the few random times we've tumbled around the sheets…" That made George freeze for a second.
"Wait, you guys slept together?" Chekov nodded with a blush making Sam blink curiously.
"Yes, but it's not what you think Sam… It's… Complicated really… But I love Jim! He's family, he's home; even with all the bad, he's everything I've got left…" Sam grunted with a nod.
"Sounds complicated… But I guess I was like that for Jimmy too at one point. The kid practically worshipped me… Things at home started getting ugly, I couldn't handle it anymore."
Chekov was lost. He didn't understand, Jim never talked about his life at home he assumed it was fine, or at least decent. Jim's out going attitude always left Chekov believing everything was fine, now Jim's older brother was sitting there besides him saying otherwise. There was no way to be certain, and Jim would never say. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and pushed back the growing guilt before he spoke.
"What was your life like when you guys were kids?"
…
…
…
Bones drove silently besides Jim. Neither of the two had said a word since they left and the tension wasn't so bad, but it was still thick in the air. The older grumbled something inaudible and picked out a cigarette from the dash, Jim finally turned to stare.
"Why are you smoking? Since when do you smoke?"
"Since you want to send me to the grave sooner, I might as well put my foot down the hole…"
Jim sighed pulling at his hair for a minute and turned to stare out the window seeing Bones reflection as he lit the cigarette taking a long drag. Jim snapped. He turned over taking the cigarette from the mans lips and flung it out the window. Bones glared.
"What the hell Jim? The hell's gotten into to you?!"
"You don't smoke Leonard. I'm not about to watch you kill your lungs just 'cause I'm reckless, it doesn't work that way!"
The awkward silence continued after that. Both men sitting in angered fumes, intensified by their current predicament. Jim still had to be dropped off for his appointment. Bones would have turned the car around, or just stopped the car all together and yelled at the top of his lungs begging Jim not to go. It all came crashing down at that moment. Leonard understood he was in too deep but to say the four letter word was like giving a fire more fuel and bordering on insanity. He wouldn't call it by definition for fear of hearing it out in the open air and admitting maybe, his greatest fear.
The car came to a stop for a second, the red stoplight lit Jim's face in a red hue and oddly enough Jim was beautiful in the frightening shade of the crimson glow. The lighting gave off an eerie yet hypnotizing effect, Jim's skin glowed; his eyes still bright and glistening in the reflection of the window. Then the stoplight turned green, Jim spotted Leonard's reflection in the window staring back at him and he forced himself to turn away. The car starting up again and Jim's face lingering in the far corner of his mind. This was a lot harder then he had ever imagined. Not being able to see his daughter was the first, and now, Jim. He was in love with Jim and no amount of self loathing and guilt could make these unexpected feelings wrench free from his aching heart.
They were staring down the street, the end of the road, minutes from their destination; Jim's drop off. Jim turned to look at Leonard with a strange unexplainable expression. It was odd at this moment, the strange silence, the sweat dripping slowly over Leonard's brow and of course by now, Jim knew; it was so obvious. Leonards' emotions couldn't yell it any louder.
He sighed as they turned the corner driving into the parking lot of the motel their client had given directions to. Jim opened the passenger door standing in the cold breeze of the night. Disheveled hair blowing like blades of grass and he sighed kicking the rubble beneath his feet. The motel name flickering just in front of them making this place all the more intense. Leonard could see the doubt in the youngers' actions, could feel the guilt and desperation of escape rolling off Jim in waves.
"I already know I can't say anything… 'cause I know you won't listen to reason…"
Blue eyes connected with saddened hazel hues but the piercing gaze burned and Jim was forced to turn away. Jim smiled sourly taking the few steps around the car towards the sulking man. There was just no other way, he had to do this, for the sake of their lives, for Chekov. This was the only way right? Jim wasn't sure anymore. Hands reached out shaking from the cold, or from fear, it was uncertain. Trembling fingers knotted through thick chestnut hair pulling the other man down to close the gap between them in a chaste kiss.
Leonard panicked, terribly frightened he fought back and stood still but Leonards' arms moved on their own and his trembling hands reached out till they wrapped around and locked behind the slender waist in fistfuls of Jim's coat. The man didn't even grumble as he pulled the younger closer and deepened the kiss. Jim didn't show the shock, but allowed the kiss to linger for a couple of seconds and pushed away with a strange smile. Leonard couldn't put a name on the strange expression, the smile was to many other emotions combined.
"You don't own me… Don't say I can't play with other toys…"
Leonard smiled softly, a soft chuckle fluttering through the parking lot. Jim had already started walking away but the lyrics to an old song continued to play in his mind.
…
…
…
The building wasn't anything special. It was the usual two floors, two buildings and a pool. Jim sighed opening the doors going through the same routine as he waved off the man and walked up the stairs towards his room. Suddenly the halls seemed longer, the color of each door, the color of the room numbers seemed all the more frightening, and intimidating. Would this ever end, this sad excuse of a life? Endless thoughts roaring through his head, suddenly this didn't seem like a good idea. Leonard had a point, there was never a sure thing with these types of people, you never knew who was on the other side. If there was a chance, a split second, he'd take it. Go back, sprint, take off at full speed running, crash and fall into Leonard's arms, apologizing, begging to take them far away, to take him home. But pride's a sorry ass bitch that gets in the way and plays against our fears.
'No way! I didn't come all the way out here for nothing. I'm not backing out now…'
Jim blinked coming out of his thoughts. He suddenly realized he was standing in front of his door, the gray paint seemed fresh, glistening yet dull and expressionless as its color. Then the number on the door, he laughed half heartedly taking notice of the red number 69 hanging just above the peep hole. Red. What a befitting color. The color of passion, the color of anger, the sinful yet alluring color of sex. And there it was, placed in a crimson hue and in the shape of . He wondered for a second if this was someone's sick idea of a joke, but that was only wishful thinking. Maybe the joke was on him and this was the punchline. Gods' fucked up version of joke. It must be funny looking at it from a different angle.
He laughed speaking out to the silence.
"I must be losing my mind…"
Jim knocked placing the key within the door and turned the handle to walk inside.
It wasn't much, just a bed in the center of the room and a TV on the table right across from it. To the side was another small round table and a simple chair. It was there Jim found his client, silent and observant. Who was this man? There was an odd sense of familiarity, like someone he knew.
A man of pitch black hair perfectly trimmed dressed in a well worn suit, and polished shoes, but the most striking thing about him were his eyes. Those dark pools of endless brown; they bore deep into his soul trying to figure out all of his secrets. He wasn't old but his eyes seemed as if they lived life times, tired and aged. Jim couldn't understand why he felt like he knew this man. Couldn't understand why he felt somewhat comfortable in his presence like old friends meeting each other after so much time apart. The fear he felt just seconds ago suddenly vanished and he found himself able to breathe. There was no making sense of it, Jim couldn't even try to comprehend the situation.
Jim moved first.
He took off his shoes leaving them by the door, bare feet padded across the carpeted floor; the mans eyes slowly followed his every step. Jim crouched down to the mans level, hands holding on to the arms of the chair and tilted his head beneath his clients face. For a second they stared at each other till Jim smiled and the other finally seemed to relax making some of the tension leave the room. Already Jim was able to breathe a little better, but those coffee brown eyes up close were something else entirely. Jim's mind was racing, he couldn't tell what this guy was thinking. They sat there staring at each other, contemplating their next move. The awkward silence was ruining the mood. Everything suddenly felt like the first time, he could feel his body tingling with excitement and fright. The sweat building in his palms, pupils blown, the bulge in his pants already starting to form and no idea what to do about it. Just like the first time, he was so terribly frightened and felt unexperienced. He was so young then, just a teenager, it was strange how fear made time go backwards. Just when he thought nothing would happen things took a turn for the unexpected. Jim never met someone he couldn't read.
Dark hair moved slightly with a tilt of his head hiding the view through pitch black strands of bangs. He knew he was making the blonde anxious, knew he was making Jim nervous, but couldn't think of what to do next. Who's turn was it to move? How did they go past this awkward silence, how did people go about doing this at all? Everything all at once was just a jumble of questions and his eyes glanced around the room as if the answer were written on the walls. But then he remembered. He looked down at the younger man's eyes, the bright blue sparkling with fright and uncertainty feeling an odd sense of familiarity and longing.
He knew these eyes. But from where he wasn't sure.
In a different time they were once vibrant and full of life with hopes and dreams. When did they become so dull and lifeless? Yes, he definitely knew these eyes. It was far too long ago now to remember such an innocent time.
The man thought back to his task, the orders he was given. The information disclosed to him by the director and his partner. They were counting on him to get the job done. He just couldn't understand how he could go along and play this act. If he revealed any information too soon it would all be over. He wasn't sure if this would even be an act, by the time it was done. Would it ever be over?
Suddenly he could feel small tremors on the chair and he blinked down to look at the younger man struggling to stay in his crouched position. It was minutes now, and another would only make this situation worse. He couldn't think of anything else to do, it was all or nothing by this point and his body moved on instinct.
Spock's hands took Jim's face gently tilting his chin with his thumb and kissed him.
All things pushed aside, Jim's mind pulled a blank. Touching, groping, love bites, he'd been through just about anything; but kissing, almost never happened. The fact that his client was being very gentle was also alarming but welcoming nonetheless. No client ever started with a kiss. It was always a 'get down on your knees', type of thing or just getting thrown around, Jim had to admit that maybe he was actually thankful Leonard found him. That dreadful night not too long ago.
Jim gasped his mind melting into a pile of mush and left forgotten as his client ravished his neck running cold fingers under Jim's shirt. Why was he so cold? Fingers trembling, Spock's hands continued to work their way around the blondes skin. They found their way up towards Jim's tender nubs and pitched. He froze for a second observing how the simple touch made the younger squirm slightly. Every pinch and pull caused a slight twitch accompanied by a small gasp or moan. Spock reminded himself this was a man, but given that fact Jim's voice wasn't all that unpleasant. It wasn't overly deep or raspy but soft and gentle, not high pitched or forced, Spock found it beautiful.
By this point Spock hadn't even realized his hands were doing other things. Somewhere between the soft moans and kissing, Spock's hands ran down to find a moist spot on the blondes pants. It was sticky and he found himself smirking in pleasure, there was something amusing about being dominant especially with Jim's title of so called Captain. He expected an outcome far different than that which he was experiencing now.
"Captain…? What made you choose such a title? Was it not wiser to choose something more… Alluring?"
Jim wanted to kick the man or throw him off but he was already hard and running in this state would only make him look like an idiot. He bit back another moan when Spock gripped his hardened length.
"Haa! Um, ju-just shut up…"
The response only made Spock amused. Jim fought the urge to roll his eyes but he quickly rolled his eyes back when he felt the hand rubbing the clothed length creating the friction he craved. Spock watched Jim's head hit the bed and arched his back as Spock's fingers rubbed around the head.
Was it selfish that he wanted to keep going? Was it disgusting or perverted? Spock wasn't sure anymore and he found that he didn't care if the Director found out about this later. Jim's pleading mewls called to him beckoned him, pleading for attention. Spock dipped down taking the blondes lips again, he would give into every single plea.
"Is this alright…?" Jim looked up, a mixture of emotions playing all at once but the only thing he wanted were this strangers eyes. He wanted to be his center of attention, his everything. Jim's mind screamed, and begged, 'Look at me! Look at only me!'
It was so strange but he nodded through half lidded eyes without knowing the question. The too easily unspoken response shown through a simple act like nodding. It shouldn't be that easy. Spock hummed in response taking Jim's pants and threw them across the floor. Jim took off his shirt and welcomed the man as he dove back down and captured his lips.
Their bodies mixed molding into each other, a dance of blissful pleasure. Spock had never known an experience so thrilling. Never before had he ever felt this hot, this high, never this close or intimate with anyone. The intense level of an impending climax and the urge to make it last longer. When he finally took off his clothes it couldn't have been sooner. The feeling of bare skin against skin; he wondered if the rooms temperature changed. The intense heat, the friction, just the act itself should've been enough, but it wasn't; he craved more. A deeper animalistic rage to claim won him over. He found himself uncontrollable, brave and daring. Spock no longer afraid or uncertain, wanted this, needed it more than air.
Jim's body coated in a thin sheet of sweat made Spock's fingers run smoothly as he traced the blonde's back. Coffee eyes trailing every twitch every tiny gasp of small breath. A quick hitch of breath or the erotic way Jim's abdomen seemed to dip whenever Spock's lips ghosted a trail of gentle kisses near the sweet sensitive flesh.
Was this how lovers felt? Was sex supposed to feel this good with a stranger?
Spock continued his journey, adventuring towards uncharted territory exploring the unknown in vast forms. It was beyond thrilling, every twist and turn, no drug could recreate such a perfect high. No climb could take you higher, an alternative to flying in a whole new level. Fingers reaching forth and just barely grazing the gates of heaven with the tip of a finger nail.
Beautiful.
Pure.
Bliss.
Jims arms wrapped tight on Spocks' shoulders, head resting on the crook of his neck. Their hair moist, dampened by their sweat and sticking to their skin. Jim could feel his pulse slowly coming down, the other mans heart beating along, just the same, intimate like lovers. Spock still softly kissing along the youngers neck riding out the after glow of their climax. Jim softly pushing down on the mans length wanting the sweet sensation to last longer.
It was strange how something so animalist and instinctual could turn gentle and beautiful. Sex is sex. A quick relief. A quick high. A frustration reducer. A punching bag on its worst days and you kept going at it till the anger ran out and you're left a panting sweating mess. When did sex get so tiring? When did sex become blissful and fulfilling, pure and divine. Like the sweet taste of chocolate on your tongue. Soft like velvet, sweeter than honey with the a rush of euphoria unlike any other.
When did sex ever become something you craved with a single being?
Somewhere between the soft thrust and sliding of sweat covered skin Jim fell asleep but he could still feel the gentle sensation of hands on his body. He unconsciously reached out for the warmth of his companion, eyes closed, moving towards the whispering voice that called to him. The scent of warmth and comfort.
'Hold me…'
Limbs tangled and trapped beneath the sheets it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended. They lay there in the silence, Jim sleeping soundly, the soft rise and fall of his chest seemed beautiful. So gentle, innocent and pure. Spock found himself tracing Jim's face. Eye's, nose, lips, everything. He remembered now. Why he felt the odd sense of familiarity with this man. This beautiful stranger that suddenly walked into his life and tangled his nothingness with a web of misfortune and chaos.
But he was no stranger.
He knew the man. He knew this boy. A time so pure and innocent, a time so far away now almost seemed forgotten. Yes Spock knew this boy. Knew the disheveled spikes of blonde hair. Crystal blue hues, no ocean nor sky could compare. The dusted almost nonexistent freckles that scattered across his face like kisses from baby angles. Soft pouted rosy lips that always chapped. Spock knew this man when they were boys.
They played in the school yard and scrapped their knees, ate lunch and held hands as they walked to class after recess. Spock remembered trying to get the boy out of trouble, remembered the many pranks he'd play on friends and teachers. He remembered waiting for the boy in front of the school where his father would drop him off. And he remembered the first time the little blonde boy came to school, with his eyes distant and pained. The first time he noticed there were bruises on the boys arms and his older brother was nowhere in sight.
Spock knew James T. Kirk…
