Star Trek One Shots

Letters to Pavel A Chekov

(Warning - sexual content, this is smut) 

Pavel A. Chekov, 

You should know something. 

It's Christmas

And we're in your parent's living room. Your mother and father are asleep with the bedroom door open and we're playing a very dangerous game.

It's nearly midnight and we've had way too much to eat and possibly a little too much to drink. I'm sobering up a little in your company and the fire is keeping my bare legs from freezing. Your lips are on my neck and I'm trying not to make any noise. As I said, Pavel, we're playing a dangerous game. Your parents would explode if they knew that you were sitting on their couch with your hand under your girlfriend's - under my - dress.

But you're not too concerned about the door being open. You have strict parents; subtle and sneaky is your game and of course, you think you're already winning. Your fingers are inside me and you know exactly how hard I'm trying not to make a noise. You can hear my breath catch and from where I'm sitting. I can feel how much it's turning you on. Pavel, you're a gorgeous mess and I'm thinking about your curly hair along with your hands and exactly what they're doing to me. You're not going too fast. You're just taking your sweet time and grinning like an idiot.

You start pressing hard and I start getting louder. You stop, whispering in my ears to keep quiet. But Pavel, I have so little control over the noises I make when you're teasing me and you seem to realise this, slipping a finger into my mouth as well. I bite it, just softly enough so that I don't hurt you, just firm enough to really get your mind buzzing. Your lips suck gently at my neck and you trail kisses up my jaw and remove your fingers to cup my face and kiss my lips. And Pavel, you taste warm. You taste like cinnamon whiskey and too much dessert.

Pavel, your fingers between my legs is heaven and I shake under your touch when I finish. Your smile is just as satisfying. You wipe your hand on your jeans and grin at the expression I'm wearing. The other gift you've given me tonight is around my neck and I play with it idly as my eyes tell you all sorts of things about what I'm about to do to you. The door is still open. Your parents are still asleep. And we, we are still wide awake.

You lean back against the cushions of the couch and look up at the ceiling. My hand is on the inside of your thigh and you sit up to look at me, raising an eyebrow. I grin.

"Merry Christmas, мои идиот."

You smile and let me push your head to the side so I can kiss along your neck. The couch is far less ideal than a bed, or anywhere behind a closed door but we glance to the hallway and make do. I cup your cheek and kiss your jawline, trying not to fixate on the stubble that's starting to appear after you left your razor on the damn starship. Who would have picked you, boy genius, to be the forgetful one?

You manage to forget one other thing as I suck at your neck, and that is the fact that we're trying to be quiet while your parents sleep a few metres from where we sit. You moan. We freeze. You look a little terrified as you remember how lightly your dad sleeps.

"Pavel," I breathe, frowning at you.

After a minute of sitting in silence we decided that we're safe and go back to giving each other hungry eyes. My hand wanders up and wraps around you through your jeans. You're as hard a rock. That's my fault. I want to make you feel good. That's your fault.

And without saying anything, my lips are on your neck again and I'm pulling at you. You're making all sorts of beautiful faces but I'm too focused on your neck to stay and watch. My tongue traces a line up to your earlobe and I bite it ever so softly, listening to how your breath starts to catch in response. You're putting my name. I am a little too excited though and you take my hand, getting me to ease up a little. You guide my hand to exactly where you want it, still on the outside of your jeans, still making you make faces.

"Like this," you whisper, showing me where I need to put pressure.

And I do, going back to your ear, back to driving you fucking wild. My tongue traces the outside of your ear, the inside. You shiver, you suppress a moan. You're trying to warn me of what's about to happen.

But 1) I already know.
And 2) You words are too muffled to tell me.

I bite my lip just a little as your eyes actually roll back into that big head of yours. It's almost too perfect. You're trying to stay quiet still but you've got other problems now; like making a mess of your jeans. They're black, no one will see. No one will know. But we will know, and we'll think about it every time we're on this couch again. We'll think about it every time someone mentions Christmas or asks what we did. We'll think about the silence and the mess, the warmth and how we cuddled afterwards. I'll think about your black jeans, your dumb space socks your mother bought you. You'll think about how comfortable your hands were on the fabric of my dress, holding me close to you. 

The fireplace is still warm. You're telling me about how much you want to stay here rather than go back into space and uncertainty. We wanted a life of adventure and boy, we'll get it. Hopefully nothing more than we bargained for (Though I don't like our chances). We're both contemplating a quiet life together on Earth. I know we are. It's a little too appealing after our night together.

Because somehow, it's always an adventure. 

Outer space, Earth, anywhere else in the galaxy - even your parent's couch. 

You're going to be in my life for a long time, Pavel A. Chekov. We've got a whole lot ahead of the couch. Oh, and maybe even some things more dangerous than waking your parents with our moans on Christmas night. But for now, we can enjoy the little things. The touches, the smiles and the kisses. Your hair smells nice and you let me run my fingers through it sleepily. 

You're smiling at me. 

And everything in the universe is right. 

(Author's Note)

So, a little different from what I normally write. Any feedback would be heavily appreciated. 

But I hope you enjoy nonetheless. 

Also 

Smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)