I call this chapter: And Then They Had Sex. And yeah, I'm pushing up the story's rating because of it.
So...proceed with caution. Unless you like that kind of thing, which I'm thinking you do or you wouldn't be here. In which case...dive on in.
Pavel Chekov was a genius. A young, level-headed, healthy genius who had saved lives and prevented disasters before he was eighteen years old. But the man facing him down, ready to attack, was three hundred pounds of solid muscle. And sometimes being a genius was an utterly useless thing.
Pavel braced. Centered with his weight at the front of his feet, even as his heart pounded to life in his chest and he swallowed, waiting. Waiting.
The man attacked. A flash of dark eyes and then three hundred pounds was suddenly barreling at him. Massive fists, barrel chest, lunging.
Instinct screamed at him to move, to run, to do something, but a cool voice in the back of his mind reminded him to wait. He was a genius, even when it was useless, and he rarely forgot lessons he had been taught.
So between his alarmed gasp and his next exhale, time seemed to slow and he watched and twitched and waited for...
That! His attacker must have been right-handed, because suddenly his right arm was reaching out to grab or hit, and it made his body angle to the left just enough.
Now, his mind demanded, and his body reacted. He dove to the right, under the grasping hand, rolling away and jumping to his feet to face his attacker, to brace for his next move.
As that giant fist closed on empty air the attacker stumbled in surprise and wheeled around to face Pavel.
Pavel tensed, holding himself still again. He edged a foot behind him, ready to wheel around and take off if the man came at him again.
But his attacker straightened suddenly, and the threat that had soured his face cleared, dissolving into a grin.
Pavel straightened and beamed, even as adrenaline kept his heart pounding in his chest.
His feral attacker turned his wide grin to the dozen or so people sitting on the padded floor watching them.
"Lesson one."
"That's it?" came the instant answer from one of the women in the back, sitting against the wall.
Pavel grinned, remembering a similar reaction so long ago, when he was the one being taught this lesson.
And Greg returned his grin, maybe thinking of the same thing, before addressing his brand new students. "That's it. What do you figure the lesson might be?"
"If it's to run like hell when a guy who looks like you comes at me, I already knew that one," the objector retorted. A nurse, Pavel thought, one of the night nurses, not the ones he knew by name through Doctor McCoy.
"Actually, you're pretty close." Greg gestured for Pavel.
Pavel went over, trying not to grin too widely.
Greg threw an arm over Pavel's shoulder, no doubt to draw focus to the difference in their sizes. He was five inches taller than Pavel, and at least twice as heavy. Just his arm, almost bare in the short, tight sleeves of his uniform undershirt, must have looked impressively over-sized around Pavel's narrow shoulders.
"Look," Greg went on, "lesson one's going to be a cold, hard fact – when a guy my size is coming at a guy like Pavel, the odds of him being able to fight me off are shit. Forget whatever martial arts bullshit you saw on the vids as a kid, anyone twice your size has a huge fucking advantage. If Pavel'd been training for years he might last a little while, but on sheer power and strength a guy like me could wear him down fast. It stinks, but it's the truth. So if you're here to learn how to pound into Klingons or some shit, let go of that idea now."
Mike Lewis, one of the few men in the class, an engineering ensign Pavel had worked with before, chimed in with a laugh. "We'll leave that to you, Harris."
Pavel felt Greg's body tense against his side, but just for a moment. He slipped his hand behind Greg and lay his palm against Greg's back, silent reminder that he was right there, and alive, not bleeding on the floor of some Klingon prison cell.
Greg went on with barely a pause. "You're not gonna be able to fight me off. None of you. If I was just some big guy with no training, you'd still be fucked. Since I do have some training you're all the more fucked. So, lesson one – run like hell if someone like me attacks you."
There were some chuckles but a few grumbles, and an unhappy murmur from the night nurse who spoke earlier.
Greg's arm dropped from Pavel's shoulder. "Okay, look. Nobody in their right mind wants to get into fights. Fighting is ugly and stupid, and it hurts like hell. Anyone here ever punched someone?"
Two hands went up – Mike Lewis and a slight, serious-eyed girl in science blue.
Greg nodded at them. "It hurt, didn't it?"
Mike shrugged, but the girl nodded.
"Yeah. It hurts to get hit, and it hurts to hit. There isn't a single good thing about having to fight. Now some guys are sick, some guys get off on it. Some guys, like me, just have a temper problem and jump to the most extreme reaction right from the start."
Pavel heard a snort from behind him. He glanced back and smiled in surprise.
Greg had an audience.
He left Greg to his lesson, moving to the doorway where Hikaru and the captain stood, watching. Kirk's wryly amused eyes stayed on Greg, but Hikaru smiled at him in greeting.
"What are you two doing here?"
Hikaru's aimed a nod at Kirk. "He's too proud to admit he needs lessons, so I said I'd come with him to 'observe' or something."
"Hey." Kirk scowled over at them, but grinned almost instantly. "I just have to make sure a class I gave an okay to isn't going to get anyone killed."
Pavel and Hikaru exchanged amused looks, which just made Kirk huff again. Pavel's eyes went back to Greg as he leaned back against the doorway beside Hikaru.
"--things going for you. I went at Pavel just now, and he got out of the way. Maybe it looked simple when he did it, but it's not as easy as all that. He knows how to balance himself just right, so no matter which way I leaned he'd've been able to compensate. If he moved too soon I'd've had time to change direction and grab him. Too late and I would have caught him. And once he got clear and was back on his feet, he was already braced for my next move."
Pavel saw a couple of the students looking past Greg at him, and he felt heat rising to his face.
He only knew what Greg had taught him, and Greg's first lesson to him had been this same lesson – to avoid every fight he could. That, of course, was a lesson Pavel embraced more enthusiastically than this group seemed to be.
Greg went on, and their eyes went back to him. "Most guys my size are used to their strength being all they need, so they come on strong and throw out every other consideration. Usually that means their balance is all off, they're not thinking ahead. They're all momentum, and all you've got to do is what Pavel did – get the hell out of the way. They're gonna need a second to recover, to come at you again. And a second in a fight is a long damn time. He coulda been out the door before I could close in. That is a good end to a fight."
If Pavel didn't know better he never would have guessed that Greg had lost sleep over this class. He had taught Pavel, and he took on a few other students at Starfleet Academy their last term there, but he didn't consider himself to be a teacher. The idea of this class – a formal setting, a dozen pairs of eyes on him, and Captain Kirk giving official permission – had almost petrified him.
But it didn't show, and every word he spoke in that rumbling voice just made Pavel feel more and more proud.
"So, lesson one. No fight is a good fight. The only successful fight is one you walk – or run – away from. And this class ain't about learning how to pound people's heads in. There'll be some of that, probably – sometimes you can't walk away, and I'm not gonna leave you without some tricks if that ever happens – but mostly it's gonna be about learning how to carry yourself, how to read your opponent, and how to get your ass away alive."
Greg straightened, looking over the class. "Anyone who thought they were signing up for something different, you won't hurt my feelings if you take off. Hell, you'd be helping me out - fucking making me nervous, all of you staring at me like this."
Another low chuckle went through the group, and even the objecting nurse smiled.
Nobody moved.
Greg glanced back, looking for Pavel with that big, crooked, almost-shy grin on his face. But he saw Kirk and Hikaru and his grin froze for a moment.
He recovered fast, though. "Captain, you coming in? I hear you can use the help. Sir."
Kirk scowled and straightened his shoulders, but any stern objections he could have made were ruined from the start thanks to Hikaru snickering at his side.
It was nearly impossible to decide which version of Greg Pavel liked better – sweaty, glistening, warm-muscled Greg straight out of the gym, or damp and clean Greg fresh out of the shower. There was something in Pavel, something un-scientific, something guttural and base and primal, that stirred when Greg was slick with sweat, salty to the taste. But he couldn't deny the appeal of a clean, scrubbed Greg that Pavel could make sweaty again all by himself.
In the end it was an issue of semantics, really, because the moment Greg saw him and flashed that wide, uncomplicated grin in greeting, Pavel reacted the same way no matter what state Greg was in.
And this smile, after his lesson (and his shower, Pavel noted), after his nerves were wiped away and he had won over his gym full of students, was particularly bright.
"How did it go?" Pavel set down his stylus and left the padd and unfinished theorem without a thought, getting to his feet as his boyfriend flashed him that smile.
He hadn't stayed until the end of the class – Greg had shooed him away once his students were comfortable enough to volunteer to play Pavel's role and learn what he knew.
Greg shrugged off the duffel bag he'd brought all the way from the academy. His grin didn't fade a centimeter. "I think it was good. Everybody said they'd be back next week, anyway." He hesitated, his eyes gleaming with humor. "I don't think he wants me to tell anybody, but the captain stuck around at the end and asked to set up a couple private lessons."
Pavel laughed. "I'll keep his secret. He really does need the help."
"Yeah, I've noticed." Greg met him halfway, sliding his broad, warm hands around Pavel. "Thanks, you know? For saying I should do it, and for coming to help and everything."
"Anytime," Pavel answered sincerely. He leaned up on his toes, tilting his face up expectantly.
Greg grinned and bent his head, brushing his mouth across Pavel's lightly.
The Enterprise was approaching its one-year mark in the five year mission they were given. That meant Pavel and Greg had known each other by then for about two and a half years. They had been together for eighteen months.
It was a long time, especially considering that no one who knew Pavel had initially believed they could possibly be serious. It was a long time considering how young Pavel was, considering that it was the first real relationship either of them had ever had.
Pavel had wondered at times if he would ever get bored with it. When he was first dealing with his friends knowing about Greg, and dealing with their reactions, his subconscious played devil's advocate sometimes.
Wouldn't he get tired of Greg, after all? Wouldn't he long for someone he could talk to about the mysteries of the universe, the contradictions of quantum physics, the ongoing mystery of dark matter and the delight of exploring Scott's revolutionary transporter theories? Wouldn't he want someone with Hikaru's easy smile and dry humor, or Kirk's charm? Wouldn't he want to at least try, to see what being with someone else would be like?
Maybe he was getting dull with the onset of adulthood, but his intellectual curiosity never seemed to kick in regarding other possibilities besides Greg.
Now and then he had a vague sense of what-if. But then Greg walked through the door, grinning his self-conscious greeting smile, harnessing all that strength to make sure that every time he touched Pavel it was with gentleness.
He didn't want more than that. He didn't want different. Why in the world would he?
He appreciated Greg more now than he had at the Academy. He loved his friends, of course, the brilliant group of complicated, talented people that they were. But sometimes, most of the time, he longed for Greg's straight-forward dependability. He longed for Greg's solidness, in more than just the physical sense.
Though, of course, the physical sense was nothing to be overlooked.
Pavel's fingers stroked the back of Greg's head as Greg smiled against his mouth. His fingertips skimmed the soft fuzz of Greg's short hair and he nudged Greg down to deepen his light, teasing kisses.
"Mmm." Greg made a pleased, if surprised, noise. "You get lonely in here the last forty minutes or what?
Pavel pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "You are a very appealing man. Do you know that? Watching you in that class..." He grinned, face heating. "I wanted to drag you back here with me when I left."
Greg chuckled and pulled away enough to untuck his shirt. "You shoulda said something. I could've called the first class early."
"You wouldn't have. Not with the captain right there, at least." Pavel followed rather shamelessly as Greg went back to his bedroom. He was a nice enough sight in his workout clothes – the tight Starfleet-issue undershirt and a pair of baggy track pants brought from earth.
But Pavel was greedy enough to want to watch him peeling those off, as nice as they were.
"I think," he said, leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom as he watched Greg strip his shirt off, revealing a mile of broad, muscled flesh, "I had better stay away from the rest of your classes, though. I'm young, my self-control is limited."
Greg grinned over his shoulder. "You do what you have to. I'm just glad you came to this one. I don't think I woulda done it without you."
Pavel opened his mouth to answer, but the thoughts remained unspoken as he watched Greg moving around his room. He was big, yes, and obviously strong. But graceful, too, in that way people were graceful when they were entirely familiar with their own bodies. Not a dancer's grace, not anything particularly delicate or soft.
Just a confident sort of grace that said Greg knew his own body, and knew it would do whatever he told it to. Something about it, about him, made it hard for Pavel to take his eyes off of Greg even as he dug through drawers for a clean pair of pants and a t-shirt.
Right. He was off duty for the rest of the day. They both were.
That was fortuitous.
Pavel approached as Greg sat on the chair by his wall to kick off his shoes.
He knew Greg's body well. They slept together almost every night, and though Pavel had yet to have Greg inside of him, they weren't timid about getting each other off. They were way past the point of self-consciousness when it came to showing some skin, and Pavel was as familiar with the planes and hard curves of Greg's chest as he was with his own.
Greg peeled off his socks and tossed them in a corner – he'd get them later, Pavel knew, he wasn't as fastidious as Pavel tended to be but he was trying to get better about it – and made to stand back up.
Pavel slipped in before he could, moving in without hesitation until he pressed into Greg's legs, too close to allow Greg to stand.
Greg looked up at him. "Uh. Hey."
Pavel grinned. "Were you in a hurry to get dressed again?"
Greg's mouth twitched up. "I got nowhere to be," he answered. "Got something in mind?"
Pavel held out his hand, backing up a step. "You look tired."
"Tired?" Greg took his hand instantly, getting to his feet. "Nah, I'm not--"
"Greg." Pavel surveyed him: broad, bare, muscled chest, warm skin still smelling like the regulation soap stored in the showers. Caring eyes, crooked grin.
"I just think you ought to lay down for a while," he went on after a moment, warm with growing anticipation.
"Ohhh." Greg glanced back at the bed as if considering the idea. "Well. Now that you mention it, I guess I could use a few hours on my back." He grinned suddenly, reaching out and wrapping those broad, strong hands around Pavel's waist and lifting him without much strain. "And since I know you wouldn't want me getting lonely or anything all by myself..."
Pavel laughed as Greg hauled him over to the bed, but when Greg made to set him down he moved fast, snaking his arms around Greg's neck and bringing his legs up, circling Greg's waist.
"I guess this means I'm going wherever you are."
"Guess so." Greg didn't miss a step. He reached the bed and climbed onto the mattress, seemingly unhampered by the Russian growth suddenly fastened to his chest. His hands slipped from Pavel's waist to his back, and he braced himself with a strong arm as he lowered Pavel to the mattress.
Just like that all the strong, clean skin Pavel had been admiring was suddenly his entire world. Greg's weight on him, covering him, half supported by Greg's bracing arm but so much solid, secure weight over him that Pavel wanted to moan his approval.
Greg's mouth found his and Pavel lost himself in the kiss, slow and deep. His hands explored the endless planes of Greg's body, legs still clamped around Greg's waist as if Greg might leave if given the chance to escape.
Greg growled into his mouth, rolling them on their sides so he didn't have to worry about his weight being too much for Pavel. His broad hand skimmed down Pavel's side and curved around his back.
He broke off the kiss but stayed so close that Pavel could feel the shape of his growled "too many clothes, Pasha," against his mouth.
Pavel mumbled an agreement, but couldn't bring himself to pull away enough to get his own shirt unfastened. He could feel Greg hard against him even through his clothes, through Greg's thin track pants. He flexed his thighs around Greg, pressing him in close, rolling his hips until his growing erection slid against Greg's.
"Fuck," Greg growled, breaking away from his mouth to grab his shirt, yanking it up. "Pasha. Gotta let me go a sec. Come on."
But Pavel's mouth had already found Greg's jaw, and didn't want to give it up. He could feel the beginnings of stubble making his skin sandpaper rough, and the rasp of it against his already-sensitive mouth was heady.
"Pasha...fuck." Greg's hands dove under his gathered shirt, sliding up Pavel's chest as he drove their erections together again.
Pleasure made his head spin and his back arch, and Pavel's mouth slipped from Greg's skin to vent a moan.
Greg moved fast, yanking his shirt and forcing Pavel's arms up to get the shirt off. "Hah!"
Pavel laughed uncontrollably, burying his face against Greg's chest even as his breath caught when Greg pressed him close. Skin against skin, enough to make Pavel's head spin even after eighteen months.
Greg's fingers slipped through Pavel's hair as he kissed the laughter from his mouth. His body slowed, hips not so insistently driving into Pavel.
Pavel went with it as the sense of urgency faded back, as the luxury of having Greg in his arms came over him.
He broke off the kiss, pushing his eyes open to take Greg in as greedily as his hands stroked all over his chest and the ridges of muscle down his back.
"My Grischa," he murmured with a smile, blushing even as he said the nickname he'd first told Greg about weeks ago but didn't often use outside of their bedroom.
Greg smiled, heated and soft, private. Pavel had a feeling if anyone but him knew that Greg could smile like that, no one would ever wonder again what Pavel saw in him.
Pavel curled in to him, bringing his fingers up to toy in the short stubbly hairs at the back of Greg's neck.
"Do you know when I first realized I liked you?" He kissed Greg again softly. "Liked you in this way, I mean."
Greg's cheeks were pink. "When?" His hand stroked up Pavel's back, up the line of his spine.
Pavel shivered. "After Matt Lepinski gave me another black eye. I broke into the registrar's computer system to find your room number so I could find you and ask you to help me learn to stop him."
Greg's smile faded and his grip tightened. He nodded. "I remember."
"That was when. But it wasn't even how fast you said yes, or how much you helped, that made me realize it. It was the very moment you opened the door and saw me standing there."
Greg's brow furrowed. He studied Pavel across the pillow.
Pavel could still see that moment in his memory clearly. "You saw me, and you looked at my eye, and I think my lip was bleeding..."
"Yeah, it was." Greg's hand came up, his fingers tracing Pavel's temple, and the unbruised skin around his eye.
The look on his face put Pavel back to that moment months ago. "You took one look at me and right there on your face I saw..." He shook his head and smiled. "I was nervous showing up there. We had only talked a couple of times before. I didn't even know your last name, I had to go through the roster of security students trying to find you. Luckily you were the only Greg in Security."
Greg regarded him, flushed but no longer smiling. That protective gleam was bright in his eyes.
Pavel met his gaze, shivering as Greg's fingers stroked over his face. "I was nervous, but the moment you opened the door and saw me there you got so...you looked at me as if my being hurt was the most wrong thing you had ever seen."
Greg's throat worked. The pad of his thumb traced over Pavel's lower lip, whole and unhurt.
"I knew in that moment that if I hadn't come to ask for help, if you had just passed me on the grounds and seen the state I was in, you would have helped. I mean...I've been looked at that way a lot. For every bully who ever resented me there were nice people around who would stand up for me. Even the captain, back in school..." He grinned suddenly.
Greg returned it, faint but sincere. "Nosy asshole."
"Yes, but he meant well. Still, I knew Kirk would look out for me because he felt sorry for me. Because I was too young, and I was alone. But you didn't look at me that way. Even from the start you only saw a person you liked who didn't deserve to be hurt, and that alone made you so determined to help me. It was different, and when I saw that difference for myself I knew..."
He slipped his hand up, fingertips skimming Greg's mouth. He swallowed. "I knew I could love you for it."
Greg pulled away from Pavel's exploring fingers. His own hands stilled, his eyes wide, his smile faded. "Wait. What?"
Pavel swallowed. He didn't have much fear of the words, and he didn't take Greg as the kind of man who would run screaming even if he didn't say them back. But it was a hard thing, surprisingly hard, to make his mouth form the words once.
The second time was even harder. "I love you."
Greg's eyes searched his face, narrowing. He sat up.
Maybe Pavel's confidence he wouldn't be abandoned was misplaced.
He sat up more slowly and found himself facing Greg's back. He was silent for a moment, his chest tightening breath by breath, watching those shoulders.
"You, uh..." Greg spoke after a moment, his voice low. "You sure you know who you're talking to and all?"
Pavel frowned. "I'm not sure what you..."
Greg drew in a breath so deep the rise and fall of his shoulders was visible. He spoke softly. "Nobody ever said that to me before. I just...I figured it wasn't something I'd ever...nobody would ever..." He shook his head.
Pavel relaxed at that. He slipped in close to Greg, laying his hands on Greg's shoulders. He at least felt confident enough to smile.
"I know who I'm talking to, Greg. And it isn't something I say lightly, or I would have said it months ago, when I first started feeling it."
"Huh." Greg laughed, a faint puff of air. "I just...man. I didn't think...well, I didn't think about you actually saying it at all, but I never woulda thought it would...knock me over like that."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Pavel's hand tightened on his shoulder, his apprehension leaking through in his voice.
"Oh. Shit." Greg turned himself around, his eyes bright. His face was still pale but he smiled, and it stretched wide into a grin. "I mean. Yeah. Sorry, I should've...yeah. Hell, yeah, it's good. I mean...." He laughed at himself. "Me too. I love you. Too."
Something in Pavel's chest seemed to give at that. He laughed, unsteady and flushing. "Next time you should probably say that right away."
"Shit. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Greg laughed, as tight and odd as Pavel felt. "Okay, gimme another chance."
"Another chance?" Pavel sat back on his heels.
"Hang on." Greg grinned and reached out, grabbing his hands. "Okay. Go."
Pavel felt himself echoing that huge grin. He tried to school himself – it was a serious moment, after all. But the smile was audible in the words, try as he might to be solemn.
"I love you."
"I love you, too," Greg answered, prompt and fast. He laughed the moment the words were out, and there was a strange kind of relief in the sound.
Pavel understood it perfectly. He squeezed Greg's hands and leaned in, muffling his own giggles in Greg's shoulder. "This is not how this happens in the vids."
Greg laughed harder, and his mouth appeared on Pavel's temple, pressing fast, light kisses over his face. "Don't care, as long as it's how it happens with you." He pulled back and met Pavel's dazed eyes. "You need to get your pants off. Now. I don't want you feeling anything but good."
Pavel tried to laugh but his breath deserted him. He let go of Greg's hands and unfastened his slacks, quick through his hands felt unsteady. "You never make me feel anything but good."
"Shut up, Pasha. You said the love thing, that's enough sap for one day." But Greg's cheeks were pink with pleasure. He stood up suddenly, peeling the track pants and those dark boxer-briefs he favored off in one quick move.
He was back on the bed before Pavel could properly enjoy the new view, but Pavel couldn't complain when Greg pushed his hands out of the way and tackled his stubborn zipper. Greg's hands were more steady, but apparently more determined, and the sudden sound of tearing fabric came as Greg jerked his pants down.
Pavel dropped on his back and lifted his hips to get those pants off faster, urgency slamming back into him with the sound of his pants tearing under Greg's hands.
Greg must have felt the same way, because the moment he had jerked those pants past Pavel's knees he abandoned them to move up Pavel's body and cover him like a blanket.
Pavel groaned, rolling into him and finding his mouth with desperation he hadn't felt ten minutes ago. Their mouths mashed together, fierce and needy and graceless.
Greg's thigh drove between Pavel's legs, grinding down over his erection. He broke their messy kiss off far too soon to drag his mouth down to Pavel's throat, clamping down at the nape of his neck and nipping, sucking. Marking.
Pavel's head fell back. He whimpered, locked his fingers around the back of Greg's neck to hold him in place. Greg stayed where he was, working teeth and lips and tongue until Pavel was boneless beneath him, panting and straining.
Greg released his poor bruised throat suddenly, looking down at Pavel with heated eyes.
"I wanna watch you."
Pavel moaned, his cock throbbing painfully against his stomach. He reached out towards the bedside table without even looking, and Greg of course slid over the few inches to throw the drawer open and grab the half-full tube of lube that had gotten a good workout the last few weeks.
The first time they had done this, Pavel had to almost force himself. He was the one who told Greg about his explorations with his own body, putting his fingers inside himself to practice, to learn what it was he wanted to ask Greg for.
He hadn't realized Greg would really think about it as much as Greg admitted he did. So when Greg asked to watch him, Pavel had been sheepish and flushed and reluctant.
For all of two minutes.
He hadn't realized watching could be such an erotic thing, but Greg's eyes on him so intently as he worked his fingers inside had been unbelievable. The heat in Greg's eyes, the desire on his face, the way he couldn't peel his gaze away.
And when Greg had, blushing, pulled his erection from his shorts and stroked himself in time with Pavel's movements, just watching Greg bringing himself to orgasm had turned Pavel on so much he almost came without even touching his own cock.
Since that first amazing night Greg had asked to watch him a few times, but they usually didn't make it to the end without coming together, rutting or sucking or stroking each other to completion.
There was a part of Pavel, a selfish inner longing, that left these nights unsatisfied because having his own fingers inside of him just made him want more. But that was a small complaint compared to the overwhelming thrill of the rest of it.
He reached for the lube when Greg reappeared at his side, but Greg didn't hand it to him. He regarded it, and Pavel, for a hooded moment, then flipped the tube open. Silent, breathing fast, he squirted the slippery liquid into his broad hands and let the tube fall to the bed.
Pavel swallowed, watching him work his hands together, warming the lube before reaching for Pavel's hand.
Pavel's fingers were swallowed into Greg's large palms. His erection throbbed painfully as Greg toyed with his fingers, stroking to transfer the lube from his skin to Pavel's, watching Pavel's face as he did.
When he let go of Pavel's hand and sat back on his knees, Pavel fought his initial rush of self-consciousness. He lay back on his back, spreading his legs and bringing his knees up.
Greg leaned over him, knowing how hard the first minute or two usually was. He kissed Pavel's mouth lightly, stroking his slicked hand down Pavel's stomach. Just an absent, light touch.
It usually helped center Pavel's nerves, having Greg touch him. Pavel lay back and shut his eyes and focused, forgetting his self-consciousness as he reached down with a shivering hand and dragged his fingertips down past his erection.
His body ached and his nerves calmed at the familiar touch. His body knew this feeling well, and heat pulsed through him at the first stroke of his fingertip over his puckered hole.
One finger, then two, dipping in and out, slow and at first without any sense of rhythm. He clutched Greg's arm with his other hand, grasping in time with the movements of his fingers. In and out, a slick slide of invasion that, sure enough, just made him feel somehow emptier with every thrust.
"Fuck, Pasha." Greg's voice was a bass rumble in his ear, making Pavel's cock twitch. "You're so fucking beautiful."
Pavel's back arched, his fingers sliding deeper. He tried to breathe Greg's name but only whimpers came out.
Then Greg moved, his weight a dip in the mattress as he shifted, gently pulling Pavel's hand off his arm.
Pavel opened his eyes to watch him, anticipation curling in his gut. Greg would go to the foot of the bed, kneeling between Pavel's legs, and stroke his own cock as he watched Pavel's hand and his face and his cock as if he really was beautiful.
It wasn't all Pavel could ask for, but it was so much more than he ever knew he wanted.
Greg settled in his usual spot, his eyes rapt on Pavel's thrusting fingers. "Jesus, baby."
"Greg..." Pavel's voice was hoarse, thready. He shut his eyes, wanting to give Greg at least a few minutes of the sight he loved to watch so intently.
Then Greg's hand wrapped around his arm.
Pavel's breath caught, his eyes opening again.
Greg met his gaze, something heated and primal in his eyes. "I want..."
Pavel wasn't sure – and didn't want to hope – what he meant, but of course he nodded. Of course he slipped his fingers free when Greg urged him to, and trusted Greg to want something Pavel would want too.
Greg stroked his hand up Pavel's thigh, and when he moved in closer he guided Pavel's leg up and over his shoulder.
Pavel lay back, unable to take his eyes off Greg. Unable to draw a solid breath.
Greg's hand was still slick with lube, so when he pressed against the opening Pavel's own fingers had loosened, his finger slid inside easily.
Easily, but so fucking different. Pavel's body knew at once that this wasn't his own experimenting fingers. Heat pulsed through his veins, pleasure and want and need rolling in his belly. More, he wanted to demand. More, more more.
Greg's fingers were broad, thicker than Pavel was used to. One slipped in easily, two was a thrilling kind of stretch. Pavel arched to push in, to take him in deeper, and Greg's hesitation rapidly seemed to fade.
"Pasha." His voice was more vibration than sound, gravel more than tone. Greg found a slow, even rhythm and thrust those two thick fingers in and out, in and out, until Pavel was all but sobbing his pleasure.
"Pasha. Baby. Jesus, I never wanted anything like I want you."
Pavel's eyes flew open. "Please. Yes, Greg, please. Please, please."
Greg's throat worked, but the hesitation that wanted to form on his face didn't seem able to get past the desire and love burning from him already. He drove his fingers in deep, and when he pulled them out it was to work in a third finger with them.
Pavel gasped, the stretch hot and real and almost-painful but in no bad way. His head fell back, his fingers dug into the sheets under him. He heard himself, heard the high, helpless noises he was making, but couldn't stop them. Couldn't stop his cock from throbbing or his balls from tightening.
His own explorations had been awkward, the position strange and his knowledge minimal. He had only managed to brush his prostate a few times. Greg, though, gave one crook of his fingers inside Pavel's body and suddenly his body flamed with heat.
His hips pushed into the pleasure, lifting off the bed, and his cock pulsed and spurted over his belly and thigh.
Greg murmured low words that Pavel couldn't hear through the rush of air that seemed to fill his head. His fingers slowed, and then withdrew from Pavel's body before Pavel could beg him not to leave.
Pavel sank back, feeling half-melted. He fought for air, fought for words that would keep Greg close to him. He didn't find them, but Greg stayed close anyway. He stayed right where he was, with Pavel's ankle on his shoulder and his hand curled around Pavel's thigh. He stroked a soft, soothing touch up and down Pavel's leg.
When Pavel opened his eyes he found Greg watching him, the look on his face enough to make Pavel want to cry. Love and desire and awe all painted in such clear strokes over Greg's broad features.
Greg was hard, painfully hard, his cock sticking up straight against his stomach as he knelt there, ignoring his own body to adore Pavel with his eyes. Pavel couldn't help but wonder what he had ever done in his life that merited that sort of devotion.
He smiled when he had regained that much motor control. After a moment Greg returned it.
"I guess you liked that."
Pavel laughed. "I'll try not to be so subtle next time."
Greg grinned, but it was wilted at the edges. "If I hurt you...you'll tell me. You'll stop me. Right?"
Pavel's smile vanished. His pleasure-melted body seemed to spark instantly with heat, though his spent cock didn't manage to stir. "I promise you, Greg. I will tell you. And it will be alright, if it happens. Because I love you and you love me."
Greg nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it'll be alright." He slicked hand moved to his own cock, grasping and stroking, slow, up and down. He sighed out a shaky breath.
Pavel wanted to reach out, to stroke his face, to run his palms over his short hair and soothe the furrow out of his brow. But he was too far away, so he met Greg's eyes and spoke.
"I've never been afraid of you. I'm not afraid now."
Greg's head bowed, his gaze dropping. He nodded.
"You should trust yourself, Grischa."
It hurt, knowing that Greg was making himself do something he knew Pavel wanted badly. And of course Greg wanted it as well, but he would never have offered if Pavel hadn't asked.
Pavel almost, for a few tense moments, offered to forget about it. But this story Greg had told him, about when he let some stranger fuck him and it hurt so much...that was something that couldn't stay in Greg's mind. He couldn't go on with that as his first and only memory of actual sex with another man. It wasn't healthy.
Pavel would have let him forget it now, but his own urges were so intense. How long would it take for him to start resenting Greg's skittishness about this one thing? How long before he couldn't stop himself from fighting for what he wanted?
There was no perfect way to get over something like this, Pavel thought. If there was a perfect way...well, he was an eighteen year old who had only ever had one lover, and Greg was gun-shy thanks to the only other man he had been with. So if there was a right way to do this, neither of them knew what it might be.
Pavel pushed himself up on an elbow and held out his hand. "Grischa."
Greg looked up, his nervousness softening when he met Pavel's gaze. He slipped closer across the sheets, taking Pavel's offered hand. "Sorry. I'm trying here, just...I'm so fucking big, and you're..."
"Not going to break," Pavel completed with a smile. "You were the first person to teach me that, when you taught me ways to fight back against people who would hurt me. I'm strong."
"I know." Greg shrugged. "I'm trying to remind myself about all that."
"I have an idea." Pavel sat up, his legs functioning though he still felt partially boneless. "Come here."
Greg came over on his knees, clasping Pavel's hand with that sheepish smile.
"Here. We trade places. Sit." Pavel gestured to the headboard.
Greg's brow furrowed but he obeyed, sitting almost where Pavel had been laying, his back up against the headboard.
Pavel sat back on his heels and surveyed him, noting with a pleased smile that even through the apprehension Greg's erection hadn't gone anywhere.
"Now..." Pavel leaned in and kissed him, light and quick, slipping his leg over Greg's until he was straddling his lover's broad thighs. "We will do it this way, and I will be the one who stops and starts, zashhitnik moy. I am in control."
Greg's hands slid up his thighs to circle his waist. His throat worked and he nodded. "First. C'mere."
Pavel smiled through the flutters of anticipation. He slipped up Greg's thighs until his own stirring cock was brushing against Greg's rock-hard erection.
Greg groaned, but Pavel leaned up and swallowed the sound. The kiss was desperate, deep, hungry. Greg's hands moved, one tracing up his spine to support him, one slipping down over his ass. A thick fingertip traced down the center of him, skimming over the slippery patches of lube still coating his opening.
Pavel growled, pushing himself up, against Greg. Greg's cock was slippery against Pavel's sweaty skin, and the patches of Pavel's come that somehow he hadn't even thought to clean off.
Pavel braced his hands on the thin headboard of the bunk, murmuring into Greg's mouth, nudging in closer and closer until his erection was trapped between their bodies. Greg's tongue probed him, and his hand against Pavel's ass suddenly tugged, spreading his cheek, opening him up as much as he could with one hand.
Pavel had to hold himself up as Greg's broad, comforting hand vanished from his back to work his cock into place. Small price to pay, but Pavel's thighs were already burning, jelly, the strain different than any workout his running had accustomed him to.
Didn't matter. God, he would have held himself up forever, especially when Greg tore away from the kiss, his eyes squeezed shut in focus, and suddenly his thick, broad cock was against Pavel's ass, slipping against lube and rubbing into his skin, looking for entrance.
Pavel's breath choked, and everything he had wanted for months was suddenly right there. When Greg didn't move, didn't push himself any further though Pavel could feel the strain that being still was causing him, Pavel remembered his promise.
His hands clenched over the headboard and his thighs ached in complaint as he lowered himself, painfully slow.
The blunt flesh against his ass felt impossibly thick, more than Pavel had anticipated, but his body opened and slowly, carefully stretched around him. And suddenly, blissfully, Pavel was taking him in. Just an inch, then a pause, and another slow, careful press down until it was two inches. And a pause.
He made the mistake of opening his eyes, focusing on Greg's face. He had to look away fast before the shock and dazed pleasure painted over his lover's features made him lose his fragile control.
It hurt. There was a burn there, the unflexible, unforgiving thickness of a cock that no fingers could have prepared him for. His body burned, his mind dared to think that it might have been too much, but Pavel was nothing if not determined. The pain wasn't like pain, it was just a stretching burn different than anything Pavel had ever felt.
And under it, getting stronger with every breath and every slide to impale himself deeper, was a satisfaction, a thrill. Fullness, completeness.
Greg was inside of him.
Pavel had to braced himself, had to force quivering legs to sink him down until the breach was complete, and he sat flush on Greg's thighs.
Greg's breathing was a rasp, his hands curled around Pavel's ass, digging into his flesh. Every breath he took seemed to make the cock inside Pavel shift, or pulse, or something that had his breaths catching and his vision blurring.
"Fuck," came a low, harsh whisper, and it took Pavel a moment to realize that it was his own voice. His fingernails were digging into the wood of the headboard, his cock aching between their bodies as if he hadn't come ten minutes ago.
"Pasha." Greg's voice was hoarse. His hands were clenched around Pavel's ass, holding him up and open.
Pavel fought to get his vision to focus. He met Greg's pleasure-dilated eyes and whimpered.
Greg leaned in, and it wasn't until his lips brushed over wet skin under Pavel's eyes that Pavel even realized he had shed tears.
He tilted his face up, forcing those lips to meet his. The idea that Greg would stop, that those deceptive tears would scare him, made Pavel's heart pound even harder than it was already pounding. But he couldn't speak, didn't have the words to reassure him.
Greg seemed to understand, despite his overprotective nervousness. He kissed him lightly, and then with increasing desperation until their mouths were clashing together with frantic need.
Pavel moved, slowly, getting the feel for it. He arched more than lifted, pulled himself at most an inch upwards before sinking back. And every movement of that inch was fucking amazing – he could feel his pulse his his ass, could feel the rasp of Greg's cock against him, inside him.
But his legs were all but useless, despite his need. He tried again, arching up and falling back, whimpering into Greg's mouth.
Greg gasped for air between their kisses and hesitated, running his lips down the track of wetness Pavel had spilled against his will. His mouth, strangely hot and desperate-feeling against Pavel's skin, traced down over his jaw, to his throat.
"Let me..." he murmured into Pavel's skin, and didn't bother trying to finish.
Pavel didn't need him to. He would have let Greg do anything.
Greg's hands moved from Pavel's ass to his thighs, holding him firmly. And he lifted up, somehow managing to get his knees under him. Pavel's weight was nothing for Greg, Pavel knew that well enough by now.
The movements caused a thrum inside Pavel's body as Greg's cock shifted and angled inside of him but didn't slide free. Pavel had to force his fingers to unclench, to dig free from the wood of the headboard and wrap around Greg's neck. As Greg shifted on his knees further from the headboard Pavel managed to get his disobedient leg muscles working just long enough to wrap around Greg's hips until his ankles crossed behind him.
Greg's mouth left his throat only long enough to lower them down, to put Pavel on his back on the disheveled bedspread. And Greg was in control by then, but pleasure or trust or both must have kept his apprehension at bay, because with only a moment's pause to settle himself over Pavel, his hips curled in a fierce roll that thrust him deep and hard into Pavel.
Pavel cried out, harsh and high, and his desperate fingers clenched into Greg's skin since he was denied any other solid hold.
Greg drove into him, slow and steady and so deep it drove Pavel back, pushed his head into the sheets, made his grasping fingernails slip and claw and scratch for some kind of purchase down the broad plane of Greg's back.
And the sounds Greg made, the low, growling grunts that came with every thrust. Pavel wanted to shut himself up, his own uncontrollable moans, just to hear them better, to absorb them into his skin.
Greg moved suddenly, switching to brace himself on his left hand as his right grew tired. Somehow it shifted his body just right, and with his next thrust Pavel felt the roar of pleasure as Greg's cock found his prostate.
His clenching hands seized in Greg's skin and he arched into those thrusts. He heard his own voice, heard cries and 'yes' and 'Greg' and 'oh' over and over again until he was sobbing with it. There was no response to that much pleasure, no fitting way to react, so instead he came apart with it.
When he came again he barely felt it, just a tingle underneath the constant roar of pleasure. When Greg came he cursed against Pavel's throat and plunged in, so deep it made the bed thump against the floor, and stayed planted there as his flesh pulsed and emptied inside of Pavel.
Inside of Pavel. It was the thought Pavel would go back to again and again, once he regained any ability to think. As it was he just clenched himself around Greg, mumbling broken encouragement, as his own body shut own limb by limb and he sank to the bed like he was physically dissolving.
He felt Greg slip free from him after a while, and though his managed to murmur a complaint his aching ass told him it was probably for the best.
He felt the mattress dip around him, felt sudden damp warmth stroking carefully over his stomach, his spent and useless cock.
Pavel pried his eyes open and could have wept, could have shed tears when he saw the dazed devotion on Greg's face as he cleaned him off. Instead he reached out, limp fingers patting at his arm.
"C'mere," he breathed through heavy lips when Greg looked at him.
Greg swallowed and tossed the washcloth to the side and sank down beside him. His body was heated with exertion, damp with sweat, and folded around Pavel like a blanket. If Pavel had had any doubts about his words when he told Greg he loved him earlier, those would have been erased now.
But he didn't have doubts. Not about those words or about anything else.
He knew somehow that Greg didn't need his reassurance that it had been perfect, amazing, beyond anything Pavel had anticipated. He knew, somehow, that when he saw the beginnings of a red line, a scratch he knew would match a pattern of them down Greg's back, he didn't have to apologize. In the morning, or evening – he had lost any notion of what time it was – when they stirred and could speak and react again, he would tut over those scratches and wince at his own sore body and they would laugh and smile and plan to do it again.
Soon.
And often.
Then maybe he'd make Greg go with him to Sickbay to run a regenerator over his scratched back. Maybe he'd ask McCoy to do it, just to see the man's face when he recognized what those scratches were from.
He still owed him for those pamphlets, after all.
For the moment, though, he simply shut his eyes and lay his head against Greg's chest, listening to his heartbeat still trying to slow down.
For the moment he was absolutely content.