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less_starTitle: I’ve looked at life that way
Author: less_star
Pairing: Spock prime/Chekov
Word count: about 800
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Shore-leave on New Vulcan. Reaching for what they can’t have.
A/N: Written for this prompt at the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
stxi_sinfest, asking for a May – December pairing. It turned rather sad and un-porny on me.
Chekov whimpers under his touch. Spock stills, worried. Now that he’s given in he needs this too much to stop but he aims for his touches to cause pleasure, not to hurt.
“No, no, is good. Please, please.” Chekov almost sobs the words out as he twists and arches into Spock’s hands.
All that smooth skin makes Spock’s hands restless, impatient to touch, to reach everywhere. Chekov’s thoughts scream to him and he makes no effort to screen his mind. They are breathless in Spock’s mind like Chekov is panting raggedly underneath him. want please hurts so good please love you
It would feel acceptable, Spock thinks, to say the words back. To reach out and grab that simple pleasure, in some strange way more intimate than this. To say something that could bring him even closer to Chekov than using his body.
He does not, however, say anything. Telepathy, contrary to what so many humans believe, does not enable him to see the thoughts of others in images clear and in focus like on a viewscreen. But for all that his image of Chekov’s mind is hazy and jumbled it is still obvious that the one Chekov loves (admired love you always wanted dreamed) is his younger self. He knows that when Chekov dreamed of, imagined an encounter like this it did not take place in a dimly lit, spartan room on New Vulcan but in the neat, impersonal quarters of the Commander.
Spock finds himself getting rougher, wishing to push away the thought that he is stealing something precious from himself. His release feels like another loss.
Somehow Spock finds the presence of mind to lie down beside Chekov rather than slump inelegantly on top of him. Chekov turns towards him, eyes tightly shut, still breathing hard. Spock brushes the sweat-damp curls from his forehead and wishes that he could pretend.
Chekov’s exhausted as Spock cleans him. He’s sprawled out over the bed, watching Spock quietly from under heavy eyelids. His eyes are still sharp as ever and Spock feels like he could hide nothing from that gaze, feels suddenly like he is the younger of the two.
Spock had decided to leave Chekov to sleep alone in his bed and spend the night working. But when Chekov reaches out for him with an unguarded, sleepy smile he is helpless to resist. When they’re settled Chekov rests his head on Spock’s shoulder and Spock allows himself to touch, runs his hand along Chekov’s side, over his chest, pausing to sense that slow human heartbeat.
Spock watches him, seeing both the boy and the man he will grow into, the man he knew in another time.
You were the youngest, the last. But he does not say anything aloud because Chekov is sleeping now, the tightness around his eyes finally gone.
The human heart, though capable of bravery, loyalty and love, could never hold the beats to match a Vulcan lifespan. Spock is sure he will never again allow himself to feel secure in a false belief that he has time.
***
He finds the nights rather cold, these days, but he still falls asleep for a few hours. He wakes alone in his bed. The stab of pain at the thought that Chekov left without saying goodbye is both sharp and unexpected. He feels quite the old fool when he sees Chekov’s gold uniform shirt still on the floor.
Chekov is sitting on the narrow porch just outside the door. Barefoot and with a blanket around his shoulders he looks like a little boy. Spock finds it a relief that he neither acts like nothing happened nor pretends that Spock is the one he wanted. Spock makes them tea and something similar enough to toast and they watch the sunrise in silence.
“The stars are waiting for you.” Spock says when it is time for Chekov to leave and he gets a tiny smile in answer. He wonders if there will ever come a time when he will not miss the Enterprise like it is a part of himself gone traveling light-years away. He is aware that this encounter with Chekov will not lessen that sense of loss.
“Can I come back? To you?”
“I do not expect that you will wish to.”
Chekov looks down and frowns as if there is something very troubling in front of his feet.
“I think that I will want to come back.”
Spock has a highly irrational feeling that time has slowed and that something sharp has lodged itself in his chest.
“Then you are welcome to return here anytime you wish.”
He gets another small smile and a nod and then Chekov turns and walks away, back to his ship. Back to his young crewmates and the young Commander. Spock indulges his illogical impulse to remain still in front of his house and watch until Chekov is no longer in sight. Chekov does not look back.
Author: less_star
Pairing: Spock prime/Chekov
Word count: about 800
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Shore-leave on New Vulcan. Reaching for what they can’t have.
A/N: Written for this prompt at the
stxi_sinfest, asking for a May – December pairing. It turned rather sad and un-porny on me. Chekov whimpers under his touch. Spock stills, worried. Now that he’s given in he needs this too much to stop but he aims for his touches to cause pleasure, not to hurt.
“No, no, is good. Please, please.” Chekov almost sobs the words out as he twists and arches into Spock’s hands.
All that smooth skin makes Spock’s hands restless, impatient to touch, to reach everywhere. Chekov’s thoughts scream to him and he makes no effort to screen his mind. They are breathless in Spock’s mind like Chekov is panting raggedly underneath him. want please hurts so good please love you
It would feel acceptable, Spock thinks, to say the words back. To reach out and grab that simple pleasure, in some strange way more intimate than this. To say something that could bring him even closer to Chekov than using his body.
He does not, however, say anything. Telepathy, contrary to what so many humans believe, does not enable him to see the thoughts of others in images clear and in focus like on a viewscreen. But for all that his image of Chekov’s mind is hazy and jumbled it is still obvious that the one Chekov loves (admired love you always wanted dreamed) is his younger self. He knows that when Chekov dreamed of, imagined an encounter like this it did not take place in a dimly lit, spartan room on New Vulcan but in the neat, impersonal quarters of the Commander.
Spock finds himself getting rougher, wishing to push away the thought that he is stealing something precious from himself. His release feels like another loss.
Somehow Spock finds the presence of mind to lie down beside Chekov rather than slump inelegantly on top of him. Chekov turns towards him, eyes tightly shut, still breathing hard. Spock brushes the sweat-damp curls from his forehead and wishes that he could pretend.
Chekov’s exhausted as Spock cleans him. He’s sprawled out over the bed, watching Spock quietly from under heavy eyelids. His eyes are still sharp as ever and Spock feels like he could hide nothing from that gaze, feels suddenly like he is the younger of the two.
Spock had decided to leave Chekov to sleep alone in his bed and spend the night working. But when Chekov reaches out for him with an unguarded, sleepy smile he is helpless to resist. When they’re settled Chekov rests his head on Spock’s shoulder and Spock allows himself to touch, runs his hand along Chekov’s side, over his chest, pausing to sense that slow human heartbeat.
Spock watches him, seeing both the boy and the man he will grow into, the man he knew in another time.
You were the youngest, the last. But he does not say anything aloud because Chekov is sleeping now, the tightness around his eyes finally gone.
The human heart, though capable of bravery, loyalty and love, could never hold the beats to match a Vulcan lifespan. Spock is sure he will never again allow himself to feel secure in a false belief that he has time.
***
He finds the nights rather cold, these days, but he still falls asleep for a few hours. He wakes alone in his bed. The stab of pain at the thought that Chekov left without saying goodbye is both sharp and unexpected. He feels quite the old fool when he sees Chekov’s gold uniform shirt still on the floor.
Chekov is sitting on the narrow porch just outside the door. Barefoot and with a blanket around his shoulders he looks like a little boy. Spock finds it a relief that he neither acts like nothing happened nor pretends that Spock is the one he wanted. Spock makes them tea and something similar enough to toast and they watch the sunrise in silence.
“The stars are waiting for you.” Spock says when it is time for Chekov to leave and he gets a tiny smile in answer. He wonders if there will ever come a time when he will not miss the Enterprise like it is a part of himself gone traveling light-years away. He is aware that this encounter with Chekov will not lessen that sense of loss.
“Can I come back? To you?”
“I do not expect that you will wish to.”
Chekov looks down and frowns as if there is something very troubling in front of his feet.
“I think that I will want to come back.”
Spock has a highly irrational feeling that time has slowed and that something sharp has lodged itself in his chest.
“Then you are welcome to return here anytime you wish.”
He gets another small smile and a nod and then Chekov turns and walks away, back to his ship. Back to his young crewmates and the young Commander. Spock indulges his illogical impulse to remain still in front of his house and watch until Chekov is no longer in sight. Chekov does not look back.