Thursday, March 10, 2016

A Pavel Chekov Lemon -- Crimson Speaks

Character: Pavel Chekov

Fandom: Star Trek

OC: [Reader], a little reckless, mischievous

Inspiration: This is one of the older requests that took me longer than I thought to write out.  Hope the original requester doesn’t hate me for taking so long.  TT.TT

Once again, it’s Christmas.  This means several things for the crew of the Enterprise.  The first is that they usually get extended shore leave.  Except it’s a little hard to get shore leave when they’re stuck in space several billion light years away from any form of civilization.  Which means, of course, that Captain Kirk has to throw the biggest party in the history of parties (AKA a bigger party than his last).
Pavel prefers smaller affairs, but everyone has to make an appearance.  Kirk has this strange ability to know when someone doesn’t show up at his parties – and doesn’t let it go for weeks.  Pavel knows very well how annoying that is.  He’s only skipped one of them in the past, and days of endless chastising from the Captain isn’t worth it.  
He lingers by the punch bowl and slips vodka into his drink every now and again, even though it’s already spiked.  No matter.  He can hold his liquor, and besides, he really needs it.  Being the youngest member of the crew has its downsides, including all of the underage jokes imaginable.  But the years spent on the Enterprise has hardened him from the naïve seventeen year old he’d been when he first began this five year mission.  He takes another sip of very strong punch as if to prove it to himself…and blanches, because that’s when he notices Captain Kirk heading straight for him with gleaming, mischievous eyes.
“Pavel, I’m so glad you made it this year,” Kirk says, and Pavel bites down on his tongue to stop himself from retorting.  It’s Christmas and everyone is drinking, but Kirk is still the Captain.  An arm is quickly thrown around the engineer and Pavel is dragged away from the punch bowl.  “Come on, I think I saw [Name] over here somewhere…”
Red blossoms in Pavel’s cheeks.  “Keptin – “ he starts, searching desperately for an excuse to get away.  He’s had a huge crush on [Name] for ages now – something that Kirk, of course, noticed almost immediately.  The Captain tries to get the two of them together as often as he can, which usually results in dramatic and laughable circumstances that make Pavel so embarrassed he could die.  The last time it happened, Kirk herded them into the elevator, which then proceeded to “stall” due to some technological issue in engineering.  (Bullshit.)  They’d been stuck together for almost an hour and it had been the most awkward situation in his life because he couldn’t stop stuttering and blushing and – “I…I just remembered I have something to – “
“[Name]!” Kirk shouts over the music.  Pavel freezes as he catches sight of her.  She looks glorious – something from a dream.  Knee length dress skirting over legs wrapped up in transparent red stockings.  Her face brightens when she sees him, and her red mouth twists into a smile that puts angels to shame.  Or it could be the alcohol talking.  Probably is.
“Captain, Pavel,” she greets, and for some reason the way she says his name sounds different than before.  Like she’s charming it into a thousand different colors – reds, to match her lips, to match his blush.
“[Name],” Kirk drawls, and Pavel knows that he’s about to be embarrassed once again.  That tone of voice is a red flag all on its own.  He’s not disappointed (or rather he is).  Kirk smirks and breezily says, “Pavel’s been looking for you.  He wants to ask you to dance.”  And just like that, the youngest crew member is once again tossed under the metaphorical bus.
His blush spikes exponentially as [Name] looks over at him, brows raised and eyes gleaming.  Dear God.  He should’ve known the Captain would pull something like this.  He never should’ve left his room.  He should be holed up in there right now, getting that much needed sleep that’s been evading him for days.  Anything other than having to be rejected by the woman of his dreams –
“Oh.  Okay then.  Let’s go, Pav,” she says, and he cringes because he doesn’t quite hear her and he’s still completely convinced that she just refused him.  But when she slides her arm around his and starts pulling him over to the dance floor, her words start to sink in and he stares at her in confusion.  He can hear the subtle giggles from her friends as they disappear into the crowd, swallowed up with the rest of the drunken dancers.  By the time they reach the outskirts of the mayhem, Pavel’s got several things to say about this whole…mess.  Except it’s not really a mess, it’s more like a dream come true that he’s expecting he’ll wake up from any second now.
She beats him to it.  “That should get Kirk off our backs!” she says loudly.  But the harried music drowns her words out and Pavel frowns in confusion.  He feels like an idiot when he shouts, “What?”  But [Name] only gives him a jaunty smirk and leans in.  Really close.  So close that her body is pressing up against his and he can feel her breath against his neck.
“I said: that should get Kirk off our backs,” she says, softer this time as her words slide over his skin.  He hears her now.  And he swallows, and shivers a little too, because the low tone of her voice makes him feel slightly insane.
[Name] leans back to smile at him.  It’s an utterly wicked sort of smile, the kind that makes a person wonder what sort of sinful things she’s thinking about.  The kind that spurs on images of those sinful things, and makes him fall completely under the spell.  He smiles back, hesitant and bashful and boyish, and wishes for a split second that he could be like the Captain.  With that confidence, he’d have swept her off her feet months ago – he’d do it right here, right in front of everyone.  Bend her low to the ground and just kiss her.  Her smirk widens, as if she can see his thoughts plain as day, and he clears his throat.
Even though it’s a Christmas party, the dance floor feels more like a rave than anything else.  The music is loud and shattering, upbeat and pounding.  There are no gentle Christmas songs about snow falling – it’s all aggressive and fierce.  Not the sort of music Pavel is used to dancing to, but [Name] doesn’t seem to care.  She takes his hands and pulls them around her waist, splaying them over her hips and dragging herself closer.  She either knows that Pavel is out of his element in this hurtling storm of sound, or just wants to follow a beat of their own.  They end up swaying together, completely disregarding the harsh music and just making up their own soundtrack instead. 
After a few minutes of trying to work up the courage to speak, Pavel finally inquires, “Has the Keptin been bothering you, too?”  Because her previous statement had made it seem like he isn’t the only one getting hounded by Matchmaker Jim Kirk. 
She turns her head to look at him and raises an eyebrow.  “Yes.  He seems to think we’d make a good couple.”  She watches in amusement as he blushes and stutters, and laughs, “I happen to agree, but I’d rather it didn’t happen just because he forced it.”  He stops stuttering and instead freezes.
She is so blunt!  And sure of herself, and everything he’s not.  And he thinks that maybe he’s misheard her, because it sounded like she just told him that she wants him to make a move on her.  Or – or maybe the language barrier between them has once again altered her words, warping them, changing them.  Or maybe he’s just looking for a reason why she wouldn’t like him, because if he’s being honest with himself, relationships scare the hell out of him.
[Name] sighs and lifts a hand up to cup his face, turning it toward her.  He has the expression of a man who’s just experienced being the butt of a joke, though she can’t imagine why.  His eyes look almost horrified.  It confuses her, a little, but then Pavel has always been a more sensitive guy than most, and she’s never known him to make a point of hanging around women.  In fact, it seems like he avoids the female sex as often as possible.  She’s never been very attracted to shy, introverted types, but Pavel definitely overturns everything she thought she knew about herself.
“Pavel,” she murmurs, fingers shifting over his cheek.  He looks down at her cautiously, but there is a hungry spark in his eyes that makes her smile.  She tilts her head and says, “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me?”
He jolts, like her words are electricity that burns him.  The look she sends him is full of expectation and he stares.  Her eyes drift down to his mouth and then back up.  The movement is full of meaning and he’d be an absolute idiot not to take advantage of it.
She stares, mouth twisted up as she waits for his reaction.  A blush blossoms over his pale cheeks.  She traces it, fingers dragging over his skin to his lips, and then across them.  They part beneath her touch.  She leans in.
“So?” she asks, voice barely coherent over the music.  “Do I have to wait another year or are you gonna kiss me, Pavel?”  He shudders and laughs, and she purses her lips to hide her own smile.
“…Yeah…kiss you…” he mumbles, lowering his face down to hers.  The inches disappear like fading stars, and the closer he gets to her, the louder his heart beats through him.  Impatient as ever, [Name] closes the rest of the distance and presses her mouth against his, and he freezes again but this time it isn’t in fear.
His lips move over hers.  He’s incredulous, and a little hesitant – but his heart is soaring grandly and he’s light as air.  Suddenly there’s no gravity and he’s flying and every single boundary between them has burned away. 
“Mmm…” she breathily moans, a whisper of sound that makes him shiver and crowd closer.  His lips converge.  He cannot get enough.  But she draws away a little too quickly for his liking, mouth bruised and eyes gleaming with dilated pleasure.  “Pavel…” she starts, but doesn’t get any farther.  He really can’t get enough.  Now that he’s had a taste of her he can’t help himself.  He lunges back in and captures her lips, and [Name] lets out another beautiful breathy moan that makes him shiver all over again.
What’s that phrase?  ‘Watch out for the quiet ones’?  Apparently it’s true, because Pavel is definitely not acting like the shy, clumsy man she’d thought he was.  In fact, she is completely blown away at the things he is making her feel.  His hands burn into her dress, fisting the fabric of her lower back with grasping fingers.  His mouth is a whirlwind that drags her far from the sway of music and into a much smaller world, there only him and her exist.  She finds herself desperately wanting to explore more of the terrain of this beautiful unknown galaxy.
His tongue drifts against her lips and she’s so surprised by his straightforwardness that she parts her mouth without a second thought.  And then he’s pulling her closer, heaving her body against his and devouring her right there on the dance floor.  And all [Name] can think about are what other ways Pavel might take her off her guard – because if he’s this good with his mouth, she can only dream about those hands of his…
Across the room, Kirk casually glances around to check on his two lovebirds, wondering what awkward situation Pavel has gotten into (never fails to amuse).  But he just ends up choking on his drink as he catches sight of a very steamy make-out session being performed between the bodies around them.  “Holy fuck,” he mutters, tilting his head as he watches them.  McCoy, who’s been forced to attend yet another of these ridiculous parties, follows his gaze and instantly turns green with disgust.
“Oh that’s lovely,” he rolls his eyes.  “Now I’m gonna have to give the kid a box of condoms.  He was the only one I didn’t need to worry about too.”  Kirk just laughs.
“As if!  Pavel wouldn’t sex her up this quickly,” the captain says with a shake of his head.  This is Pavel after all.  He definitely wouldn’t –
McCoy snorted, “Oh yeah?  Look again.  They’re leaving.  Together.”  He knocks back his drink with a scowl and goes to find another, leaving Kirk staring wide-eyed at the departing figures of his younger crewmates.  Huh.  Well he can’t say he isn’t proud.
Pavel’s pretty proud himself.  And pretty scared too.  He’s pretty sure that [Name] has done this many times before, but he’s never actually…well, it makes him unsure, to say the least.  But for some reason he doesn’t feel that hesitant as he clasps his hand with hers and lets her lead him into the hallway.  For some reason, he feels like he’s actually floating on air.  It’s nice.  He becomes grounded again a few halls down, when [Name] pushes him into the wall and kisses him with smoky, heated passion.
“You sure you want to do this?” she whispers against his lips, mouth shifting and devouring and making his head spin.  He clenches at her dress, dragging her closer, feeling bolder as he presses the length of her body into his.  The feel of his arousal makes [Name] heave a shattered gasp against his mouth, and he wonders at how someone could want him so very much.
He brings a hand up to her face and brushes his thumb below her eye.  “I should be asking you that,” he mumbles between kisses.  She smirks, pushes her fingers beneath his shirt to trace the skin of his hip.  The touch makes him come alive, in a way, and Pavel brings her closer and kisses her harder.
“So…I suppose that’s a yes,” she chuckles, then nips at his lower lip with a happy sigh.  Her fingers tangle into his curly hair and she drags his head back, lips diving in to leave a trail of kisses over his neck.  He shivers against her and she absorbs it like a shockwave, dragging her tongue up his skin and suddenly wishing that she could lick and kiss a different part of him.  The part that is very adamantly pressing into her thigh.
In a shaky voice, Pavel trembles, “That’s a…yes.  Бог да.  [1] And the sound of his native tongue makes her pause, eyes slicing through the air until they rest on his stark blue ones.  He pauses too, wondering why she’s stopped, why she’s just staring at him – but then she moans very suddenly, and he stares now for a different reason.  That sound…he wants to make her moan like that a thousand times over.
“God, Pavel,” she mumbles with a shaky laugh.  He raises an eyebrow, thinking back on his words, and clarity hits him.  Amusement makes him smirk.
“You like it when I speak Russian?” he whispers, edging closer to her.  His hands tug her head back, exposing her neck to his mouth.  He nuzzles his nose beneath her jaw, dragging his lips over her skin as he murmurs, “Want me to keep using it?  Tell you dirty things you can’t understand?” 
When he glances up at her, [Name]’s eyes are wide and he thinks he understands why.  But just because he’s the youngest crew member doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel passion, or desire, especially when it comes to her.  He gives her a slight smile that makes his eyes explode with wicked abandon, and [Name] knows she’s done for.  Definitely done for.
“Pavel, get me to a bedroom.  Any bedroom,” she orders, breathing fast.  The thought of him talking dirty to her in his native tongue makes her feel like she’s unraveling.  She doesn’t care where he brings her.  She doesn’t care if they end up in the fucking captain’s quarters – she just needs a private place where they won’t be interrupted and can further explore this new development.  Jesus.  Her body is already burning right through her dress and his hands are not making it any easier.
Somehow they stumble into an unlocked room.  It’s thankfully empty.  Everyone is either still at the party or has enough patience to actually return to their bedrooms.  But patience is such a fleeting thing, and between the two of them, there is no room to cultivate it.  It flies from their fingertips and is replaced only by the fire of their need, which rises starkly around them and turns the tiny room into something out of a dream; a backdrop of their passion.
They make it to the couch that is sitting in the center, conveniently placed as if it is merely waiting for them to fall upon it.  Clothes are loosened by eager fingers.  Soon [Name] dress joins the pile, and Pavel bites back a groan at the sight of all that skin.  Some of it leaks out though – a ragged little sound that has her edging forward to straddle him.  She bucks her hips against the erection tenting his trousers and he groans again, another beautiful noise to wash away any lingering hesitance.  If there had been any to begin with.
His hands make circles on her skin, dragging over her ass and up to the back of her neck.  He clenches his grasp into her hair and tilts her head to the side, lips tumbling forward to capture hers.  It’s a bit sloppy, wrought with a desire too possessive to clamp down, and accompanied by the hungry way [Name] rips at his shirt and skims her hands over his bared chest.
Time presses against them.  Pavel moves his hands back down to her rear, clenching her into his grasp and dragging her fitfully against him.  He needs her Just as surely as he needs air to breathe, though he doesn’t get much of that as her lips devour his in turn.  It’s a beautiful push and pull, like a storm tumbling back and forth between lightning and thunder.  And the clash of their emotions meets firmly in the middle, tempered with enough strength to bolster the urgency that has overcome them.
“Lift your hips a bit,” he mutters, drawing his hands to the button of his trousers.  The fabric does very little to hide away his erection, which has only gotten harder and more insistent with every bucking pass of her hips.  She does as he asks, immediately lending her fingers to assist him.  The trousers are pushed off his hips, wrangled away just enough to free his cock before they abandon the effort in favor of more pleasure.
She wraps her fingers around him with a sigh, relieved that there is one less barrier between them.  The touch makes him writhe, hips surging upward and unsettling her from his hips.  Her thighs tighten around him to make up for him and they share a brief little chuckle at the eagerness of his desire.  Moments later, she shows him just how eager she is too, when she reaches back to unhook her bra and shuffle out of her panties.
He tries to help, but the moment her breasts are freed, Pavel can’t bring himself to focus on anything except them.  His lips dip down to suckle at a nipple, wrapping his mouth around it and flattening his tongue against the taut peak.  [Name] moans and sits up, cursing herself at her lack of forethought.  She should have just decided against wearing panties.  It would’ve made things so much easier.
A moment spent wrangling them away, then Pavel is slipping his hands back around her hips and pushing her against him once more.  He cups a breast with one hand as soon as she is settled, and the combines feel of the hardness of him and the pleasure he gives her makes her heart leap in her chest.
“Pavel,” she moans, voice half a whisper, half a prayer.  He devours it with all the desire that fuels him, tilting his head to kiss her with none of the delicacy that arches through his wild heart.  And she finds herself leaning in and returning his exuberance with all the trappings of her own insistence.
A swift roll of her hips shatters the beating heartbeats.  The kiss drops away, replaced by the immediacy of two souls careening into one another; two souls that cannot linger any longer beneath the tepid quality of desire.  [Name] wraps her fingers around him again, but this time there is no teasing touch guiding her hand.  This time, there is only the rising maelstrom of passion, inebriating in its force.  They are helpless in the face of it.
Her thrusts take on a wild passion, subdued only slightly by the pull of his hands and the crinkling way his eyes meet hers.  It is almost as if they are looking past each other – past all the physical barriers that separate them and into something greater than just themselves.  She presses her forehead against his and immerses herself in the feel of his body and hers.
His hands grip her waist, fingers sliding over her rear and guiding her thrusts.  The hardness of him fills her so spectacularly that her breath comes out in swallowed gasps that intertwine with his.  She grasps at the collar of the wrinkled button up they’d never managed to get entirely off and kisses his jaw.  His skin is smooth; he’d shaved for the party, but there is a slight texture that suggests the hint of stubble growing back in.  Her lips drag against his skin just as ardently as he drags her against the rest of him, until they are no more than two deconstructed dalliances of ungrounded fire.
Russian is whispered into her ear.  She pulls him in deeper, moving her body over his with fluid, smooth movements.  She wonders what he is saying to her, what dirty things he winds against her neck – or if it is beauty, perhaps, that draws this spoken but unheard passion from his lips.  She doesn’t ask, just drowns in it and allows him to sweep her away into every drawling syllable, until that voice rises and she knows he is close.
He murmurs her name with a sigh and moans, “I don’t think I – “ only to cut himself off with a louder moan when [Name] circles him with a grinding flourish that only makes it all that much worse.
“Me too,” she whispers, pressing her head to the leather couch by his shoulder.  Her breath patters over his skin like rain.  His nerves are a storm of equal measure, building up within him until Pavel cannot hold back any longer, and he cries out with a muffled curse.
His head drops back on the couch, body shivering as his orgasm tears through him.  The heat of his finish fills her, and she rushes to press her fingers against her clit to hurry her own end.  The moment his head has cleared enough for him to notice, Pavel bats her hand away and replaces her fingers with his own.  And with quick, firm movements, he brings her to the finish she so craves.
“Pavel!” she gasps, collapsing into him.  He catches her, one arm slung around her waist while the other is caught between them.  His fingers don’t stop until she is nothing but a puddle that melts against him, her hips falling silent and her breath coming out in a heaving sigh of happy relief.
They sit for a while like that, breathing each other in, until Pavel at last murmurs, “Do you think we should go back to the party?”  It’s an offhanded suggestion that he doesn’t really mean, or want.  To be honest, all Pavel can think about now is dragging himself back to his bed with her in tow and getting some much needed sleep. 
Apparently she’s of the same mind, because she chuckles and pulls away to say, “What I want right now is you in my bed.”  Her eyes shine in the dim light, and it takes his breath away.
“Yeah?” he manages half a heartbeat later, because he can’t think of anything else to say and because some part of him wants a confirmation to be sure he’s not dreaming.
She laughs and, still full of him, leans in to tip his head back.  She kisses him slowly like she’s serenading the very air around him, and whispers, “…Yeah.” 
He can’t breathe again, but this time it’s not because he’s too aroused or too shy to remember how to do so.  This time, it’s because [Name] is kissing him so solidly that breathing is unimportant, and his heart is rising up within him and wanting more, more, more.


[1] Бог да … God yes


  1. *huggles* thank you so much for your wonderful self

  2. Hey, are you open to requests right now?

    1. I'm planning on opening them soon! I was thinking of doing something for the spring. Just have to get my schedule in order first :)

  3. I'm dying, I need help and holy water

  4. Was beyond good! I especially loved McCoy saying this: “Oh that’s lovely,” he rolls his eyes. “Now I’m gonna have to give the kid a box of condoms. He was the only one I didn’t need to worry about too.”