Inertia Creeps [Chris/Zach - NC-17]
This was inevitable really, have you seen their interviews? If you haven't, no fear; I'm planning an epic party post of them which should be happening soon \o/ (depending on the level of procrastination I work at...it's usually pretty high).
Title: Inertia Creeps
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2,400
Summary: Zach's hosting a wrap party and Chris is getting high in the garden.
A/N: So much love for alichay for looking this over and generally enabling the squee ♥ title snagged from Massive Attack. This all sort of spawned from this interview, in which Zach is shifty about getting high with Leonard.
It’s only when the tenth or so person comes barrelling up to him and slurs, “Yo, Zach this is an ace party, man, ace,” and then stumbles off into the mass of people swarming around his living room that Zach realises he has no idea who half these people are.
Someone has placed a glass filled with something suspicious in his hand and he drinks from it distractedly, trying not to notice how people are haphazardly placing sticky glasses on his coffee table without using coasters.
“Zachy boy, I can feel your concern for your frosted glass all the way across the room,” John says sarcastically, patting him on the shoulder. “Chill, man, it’s a party. It’s also your party.”
Zach nods, then downs his drink and coughs, realising too late that it tastes like cleaning fluid. John looks at the glass in concern. “What the hell was that?”
“I have no idea,” Zach replies flatly. “Hey, have you seen Chris?”
A smile flits across John’s face quickly, but it’s gone in an instant, before Zach has time to analyse it. He’s always analysing things; he needs to get to the root of the issue, but right now he’s reaching that stage of drunkenness where sounds start to blur together and his brain refuses to focus.
“Yeah, he was outside last I saw him,” John says and then looks him seriously in the eyes. “Hey focus Zach, I’m gonna say something important right now and you’re gonna listen. If you end up taking it up the ass, use lube.”
Zach stares at him for a few seconds, and then blinks. John nods and looks satisfied, as if he’s just accomplished something deemed worthy of respect. Zach still has no idea what he’s talking about and suspects that John is probably quite high.
“Right…thanks, John. I’ll…remember that,” he says slowly, wondering whether he should find Karl or someone to help John lie down somewhere and sleep it off.
Before he can, John is slapping his back and grinning maniacally before spotting someone he knows and striding off. Probably to offer more nonsensical advice regarding the intricacies of gay sex, Zach thinks sourly.
#
He ends up wandering outside in a daze of bitter alcohol at the back of his throat and people randomly raising their glasses and cheering as he walks past. The whole thing is fucking surreal.
He spots Chris sitting down the back of the garden with people he recognises as friends from Carnegie Mellon who have ended up dotted around the LA area, making it in the minor leagues. Chris is sharing the swinging chair with some girl who keeps pretending to sway tipsily against him; she giggles every time their arms brush and Zach rolls his eyes.
Chris meets his eyes as he walks up to them and raises an eyebrow, a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth. Zach just shakes his head at him, which he soon realises is probably not the best idea as his garden sort of jolts and spins suddenly.
“Hey, you alright man, you looked wasted,” someone comments ever so helpfully.
“I’m fine…just need to sit, I think,” he replies thickly, and someone whispers harshly at the girl draping herself over Chris, who then glares darkly at him before standing up and flouncing off.
He’s pushed down into the seat next to Chris and inhales deeply, noticing the joint Chris has hanging from his fingers loosely for the first time.
“Hey, s’not mine,” Chris says, as if he knows what Zach’s thinking.
“Then you won’t mind sharing,” Zach says, a grin crossing his face as he settles back in the chair, swinging it slowly, feeling warm and comfortable for the first time all night.
Chris rolls his eyes but settles back next to him; he’s solid next to Zach and smells familiar and secure. In the whirlwind weeks of promotion they’ve been doing he’s been the constant that Zach could rely on, the one keeping him grounded after he’d been asked to do the Vulcan salute for the fiftieth time.
The heady smell of pot hangs over them now and it reminds him of days in Pittsburgh stretched out in the park, soaking up the sun and just chatting about whatever came into his head with his brother and friends.
“So, you not feeling the party tonight?” Chris asks, his voice attaining that scratchy, husky quality people get when they’re stoned.
Something hot curls in Zach’s stomach at the sound and he licks his lips, accepting the joint from Chris. Their fingers brush in the process and Zach feels hyper aware of how they feel, warm and dry, against his hand.
“Pretty much. I stopped really thinking about what was going on around the time Anton went upstairs with two women.” Zach inhales slowly, for as long as he can, until his lungs feel full and he can feel his heart thumping inside him as he lets the smoke sit, wash into his bloodstream, curl around corners and into the deepest recesses of his being.
When he exhales, his head is foggy and he sinks into with a sigh. He turns to share a happy smile with Chris and catches it as Chris quickly lets his eyes skid away, as if he’d been watching him and didn’t want him to know.
“You kidding? That dude’s such a player,” Chris laughs, one of those laughs where his whole face smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle up and Zach resists the urge to reach out and trace the lines.
“Right,” he nods, fully aware that he’s staring at Chris’s face, but he can’t look away; his head feels too heavy to move and when Chris turns to look right back at him he doesn’t even flush. They just stare at each other, the air charged between them and Chris slowly lets the smoke he’s sucked in trickle out of his mouth.
“Hey, Zach,” the sound breaks them both from their reverie and Zach looks up, startled, “we’re heading off, it’s like three o’clock.”
Zach nods, hardly hearing them, and then they’re left alone at the bottom of his garden with the lights from the lamps he set up along the walls flickering over them. Shadows dance over Chris’s face but it’s enough light to see his eyes and track the smoke as it weaves up into the darkness.
Zach reaches over for the joint and Chris playfully holds it up, out of his reach.
“Fucker,” Zach mutters.
“Greedy,” Chris retorts, and moves his arm quickly as Zach lunges forward over him, so he ends up splayed across Chris’s lap.
“Come on, it’s nearly finished.”
“Tell you what,” Chris says, his voice lower than usual as he looks down at Zach, “we’ll share.”
Zach blinks, not quite understanding, but can’t help watching as Chris sucks in around the roach, his eyes never leaving Zach’s as he holds it there and then he’s lifting Zach’s chin up with his other hand and leaning forward. Sudden comprehension floods his brain as he realises what Chris is about to do and a thrill races through his whole body.
Chris’s lips meet his gently, wet from where he licked them before inhaling and Zach’s eyes shut of their own accord as he focuses on the feeling as Chris blows the smoke into his mouth. Chris draws away slowly, looking intently into his eyes as Zach exhales, his head is spinning and his mouth tastes like pot and Chris.
“Wha…?” He doesn’t know exactly what he wants to ask and the more rational part of his brain is screaming at him to think about this but more adamant parts of his body are begging for something different. He can’t help but laugh at the ironic contrast he’d drawn between himself and Spock in a few interviews; conflict of duality. You could say that again.
“You’re over thinking this again, Zach,” Chris says, quirking an eyebrow at him. Of course, the fucker is reading him perfectly.
Zach chooses to take that as a challenge and so leans forward, watching as Chris’s eyes widen until he’s too close to focus and his lips brush against Chris’s as he whispers, “what do you suggest we should do to distract me then?”
“Zach, fuck…Zach,” Chris breathes his name out in a rush of syllables and pleasure, the pot amplifying the heat between them and Zach waits, knowing that he won’t be the first to break and then Chris is huffing out an impatient breath and grasping the back of Zach’s head with his free hand to crash their lips together.
“God, took you long enough,” Zach says against his lips and Chris is holding the joint out to Zach’s lips and saying, “suck,” and Zach does, before diving forward to press his lips, more insistently, against Chris’s again. The shotgunning turns into a proper kiss, heated and messy as Zach’s hands come up to grasp at Chris’s shoulders and pull him closer.
Chris moans into his mouth and the sound goes straight to Zach’s cock, the angle is too awkward to get any closer and he’s achingly hard now and he needs to know if Chris is too. His hand settles on Chris’s thigh and Chris sucks in a breath.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, as Zach’s hand slides up the denim of his jeans and over his crotch, a shot of pure, unadulterated lust causing him to shiver in pleasure as he feels Chris’s cock, hard for him. The spliff is burned down to the roach now and Chris lets it fall from his fingers to the grass where it burns ember-red before Chris grinds it into the ground with his shoe.
“What do you want, Chris?” Zach whispers hotly in his ear, noting the way Chris shivers at the contact, “tell me.”
Chris’s hips buck up, seemingly of their own accord, into Zach’s hand and he groans softly, “I need…fuck, I…you, on your knees.”
Zach tries not to show the way these words make his stomach flip in anticipation, he just crawls down Chris’s body until he’s settled on the ground between Chris’s thighs. He looks up to see Chris looking at him with glassy eyes, and he can’t help it, he has to cup his own cock and rub himself through his jeans, he hasn’t felt this turned on in so fucking long.
“Now what?” Zach asks innocently, as if he didn’t know what came next.
Chris lets out an incredulous laugh and bites his lip, “Jesus, Zach, you know, just…” Chris seems to give up on words and instead moves his hand up his thigh to cup his cock and grind roughly against it.
Zach groans at the sight and comes to the conclusion that this is really not the time for games. Not when Chris is practically getting himself off above him and asking for Zach to suck his cock. He bats Chris’s hand away and leans forward so his head is resting on the v of Chris’s thighs, Zach mumbles, “look at me,” into his crotch and unzips Chris’s fly with his teeth, edging slowly down and Chris moans at the contact as Zach’s chin brushes his cock.
In the midst of the pot-induced fog clouding his brain, and probably his judgement but he’s not thinking about that right now, he feels inordinately pleased that that stunt actually worked and resists the sudden urge to punch the air or something equally as mood-killing. But then Chris’s hands are grasping the back of his head, smoothing through his hair and pulling him closer until he’s breathing on the head of Chris’s cock and he can’t stop moving, just lets the tip of his tongue taste and Chris’s hands tighten with a jerk.
“Just do it, god Zach…do it,” Chris mumbles, and Zach would laugh at just how fucking stoned Chris sounds if he wasn’t about to come in his pants without Chris even touching him.
He leans forward and licks up the side, accustoming himself to the taste and the feel and the way precome leaks out the slit. Then Chris moans again, and Zach looks up to see the way his head is thrown back and his neck is glistening with sweat and he can’t hold back, he slips down onto him, going as deep as he can until he feels Chris’s cock brush the back of his throat.
Chris is setting the pace now, pushing and pulling at Zach’s head and he can’t help but think controlling bastard, even though he’s even harder now, so hard he has to slide one of his hands down Chris’s leg to his crotch and grind into his hand, not even bothering to unzip his jeans.
Chris is panting and sighing words into the still air like, “Faster…yes…deeper, Zach god…love your mouth,” and Zach isn’t even hearing the individual words, he focuses on the thick length of Chris’s cock as Chris thrusts into his mouth and the tingle he gets down his spine when Chris starts gripping his hair so tightly a sharp shock of pain startles him.
His pace speeds up, or Chris’s pace does, until Chris’s hips are stuttering up and he’s filling the silence with harsh pants and coming down Zach’s throat. That coupled with the way his grip tightens so much Zach is forcibly pulled down into his crotch until he’s breathing and tasting and feeling only Chris is enough to have him grind hard into his hand and come in his pants, savouring the buzz of pleasure that overcomes him.
He pulls off, lips slick and swollen and hazards a glance up at Chris, who’s looking at him with a dazed expression on his face. Zach can’t resist; he gets up and settles himself so he’s straddling Chris’s thighs. Chris just looks bemused and sighs his appreciation into Zach’s mouth as he kisses him, slow and gentle, tasting pot and almost getting hard again at the thought that Chris can probably taste himself in Zach’s mouth.
They break apart and Zach rests his forehead against Chris’s, feeling heady exhaustion from the past few hours wash over him and his eyelids feel heavy and it would be so easy to just fall into his dreams here.
But then Chris has to go and shift under him and say, “dude.”
Zach grunts out an assent.
“I’m fucking hungry.”
Title: Inertia Creeps
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2,400
Summary: Zach's hosting a wrap party and Chris is getting high in the garden.
A/N: So much love for alichay for looking this over and generally enabling the squee ♥ title snagged from Massive Attack. This all sort of spawned from this interview, in which Zach is shifty about getting high with Leonard.
It’s only when the tenth or so person comes barrelling up to him and slurs, “Yo, Zach this is an ace party, man, ace,” and then stumbles off into the mass of people swarming around his living room that Zach realises he has no idea who half these people are.
Someone has placed a glass filled with something suspicious in his hand and he drinks from it distractedly, trying not to notice how people are haphazardly placing sticky glasses on his coffee table without using coasters.
“Zachy boy, I can feel your concern for your frosted glass all the way across the room,” John says sarcastically, patting him on the shoulder. “Chill, man, it’s a party. It’s also your party.”
Zach nods, then downs his drink and coughs, realising too late that it tastes like cleaning fluid. John looks at the glass in concern. “What the hell was that?”
“I have no idea,” Zach replies flatly. “Hey, have you seen Chris?”
A smile flits across John’s face quickly, but it’s gone in an instant, before Zach has time to analyse it. He’s always analysing things; he needs to get to the root of the issue, but right now he’s reaching that stage of drunkenness where sounds start to blur together and his brain refuses to focus.
“Yeah, he was outside last I saw him,” John says and then looks him seriously in the eyes. “Hey focus Zach, I’m gonna say something important right now and you’re gonna listen. If you end up taking it up the ass, use lube.”
Zach stares at him for a few seconds, and then blinks. John nods and looks satisfied, as if he’s just accomplished something deemed worthy of respect. Zach still has no idea what he’s talking about and suspects that John is probably quite high.
“Right…thanks, John. I’ll…remember that,” he says slowly, wondering whether he should find Karl or someone to help John lie down somewhere and sleep it off.
Before he can, John is slapping his back and grinning maniacally before spotting someone he knows and striding off. Probably to offer more nonsensical advice regarding the intricacies of gay sex, Zach thinks sourly.
#
He ends up wandering outside in a daze of bitter alcohol at the back of his throat and people randomly raising their glasses and cheering as he walks past. The whole thing is fucking surreal.
He spots Chris sitting down the back of the garden with people he recognises as friends from Carnegie Mellon who have ended up dotted around the LA area, making it in the minor leagues. Chris is sharing the swinging chair with some girl who keeps pretending to sway tipsily against him; she giggles every time their arms brush and Zach rolls his eyes.
Chris meets his eyes as he walks up to them and raises an eyebrow, a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth. Zach just shakes his head at him, which he soon realises is probably not the best idea as his garden sort of jolts and spins suddenly.
“Hey, you alright man, you looked wasted,” someone comments ever so helpfully.
“I’m fine…just need to sit, I think,” he replies thickly, and someone whispers harshly at the girl draping herself over Chris, who then glares darkly at him before standing up and flouncing off.
He’s pushed down into the seat next to Chris and inhales deeply, noticing the joint Chris has hanging from his fingers loosely for the first time.
“Hey, s’not mine,” Chris says, as if he knows what Zach’s thinking.
“Then you won’t mind sharing,” Zach says, a grin crossing his face as he settles back in the chair, swinging it slowly, feeling warm and comfortable for the first time all night.
Chris rolls his eyes but settles back next to him; he’s solid next to Zach and smells familiar and secure. In the whirlwind weeks of promotion they’ve been doing he’s been the constant that Zach could rely on, the one keeping him grounded after he’d been asked to do the Vulcan salute for the fiftieth time.
The heady smell of pot hangs over them now and it reminds him of days in Pittsburgh stretched out in the park, soaking up the sun and just chatting about whatever came into his head with his brother and friends.
“So, you not feeling the party tonight?” Chris asks, his voice attaining that scratchy, husky quality people get when they’re stoned.
Something hot curls in Zach’s stomach at the sound and he licks his lips, accepting the joint from Chris. Their fingers brush in the process and Zach feels hyper aware of how they feel, warm and dry, against his hand.
“Pretty much. I stopped really thinking about what was going on around the time Anton went upstairs with two women.” Zach inhales slowly, for as long as he can, until his lungs feel full and he can feel his heart thumping inside him as he lets the smoke sit, wash into his bloodstream, curl around corners and into the deepest recesses of his being.
When he exhales, his head is foggy and he sinks into with a sigh. He turns to share a happy smile with Chris and catches it as Chris quickly lets his eyes skid away, as if he’d been watching him and didn’t want him to know.
“You kidding? That dude’s such a player,” Chris laughs, one of those laughs where his whole face smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle up and Zach resists the urge to reach out and trace the lines.
“Right,” he nods, fully aware that he’s staring at Chris’s face, but he can’t look away; his head feels too heavy to move and when Chris turns to look right back at him he doesn’t even flush. They just stare at each other, the air charged between them and Chris slowly lets the smoke he’s sucked in trickle out of his mouth.
“Hey, Zach,” the sound breaks them both from their reverie and Zach looks up, startled, “we’re heading off, it’s like three o’clock.”
Zach nods, hardly hearing them, and then they’re left alone at the bottom of his garden with the lights from the lamps he set up along the walls flickering over them. Shadows dance over Chris’s face but it’s enough light to see his eyes and track the smoke as it weaves up into the darkness.
Zach reaches over for the joint and Chris playfully holds it up, out of his reach.
“Fucker,” Zach mutters.
“Greedy,” Chris retorts, and moves his arm quickly as Zach lunges forward over him, so he ends up splayed across Chris’s lap.
“Come on, it’s nearly finished.”
“Tell you what,” Chris says, his voice lower than usual as he looks down at Zach, “we’ll share.”
Zach blinks, not quite understanding, but can’t help watching as Chris sucks in around the roach, his eyes never leaving Zach’s as he holds it there and then he’s lifting Zach’s chin up with his other hand and leaning forward. Sudden comprehension floods his brain as he realises what Chris is about to do and a thrill races through his whole body.
Chris’s lips meet his gently, wet from where he licked them before inhaling and Zach’s eyes shut of their own accord as he focuses on the feeling as Chris blows the smoke into his mouth. Chris draws away slowly, looking intently into his eyes as Zach exhales, his head is spinning and his mouth tastes like pot and Chris.
“Wha…?” He doesn’t know exactly what he wants to ask and the more rational part of his brain is screaming at him to think about this but more adamant parts of his body are begging for something different. He can’t help but laugh at the ironic contrast he’d drawn between himself and Spock in a few interviews; conflict of duality. You could say that again.
“You’re over thinking this again, Zach,” Chris says, quirking an eyebrow at him. Of course, the fucker is reading him perfectly.
Zach chooses to take that as a challenge and so leans forward, watching as Chris’s eyes widen until he’s too close to focus and his lips brush against Chris’s as he whispers, “what do you suggest we should do to distract me then?”
“Zach, fuck…Zach,” Chris breathes his name out in a rush of syllables and pleasure, the pot amplifying the heat between them and Zach waits, knowing that he won’t be the first to break and then Chris is huffing out an impatient breath and grasping the back of Zach’s head with his free hand to crash their lips together.
“God, took you long enough,” Zach says against his lips and Chris is holding the joint out to Zach’s lips and saying, “suck,” and Zach does, before diving forward to press his lips, more insistently, against Chris’s again. The shotgunning turns into a proper kiss, heated and messy as Zach’s hands come up to grasp at Chris’s shoulders and pull him closer.
Chris moans into his mouth and the sound goes straight to Zach’s cock, the angle is too awkward to get any closer and he’s achingly hard now and he needs to know if Chris is too. His hand settles on Chris’s thigh and Chris sucks in a breath.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, as Zach’s hand slides up the denim of his jeans and over his crotch, a shot of pure, unadulterated lust causing him to shiver in pleasure as he feels Chris’s cock, hard for him. The spliff is burned down to the roach now and Chris lets it fall from his fingers to the grass where it burns ember-red before Chris grinds it into the ground with his shoe.
“What do you want, Chris?” Zach whispers hotly in his ear, noting the way Chris shivers at the contact, “tell me.”
Chris’s hips buck up, seemingly of their own accord, into Zach’s hand and he groans softly, “I need…fuck, I…you, on your knees.”
Zach tries not to show the way these words make his stomach flip in anticipation, he just crawls down Chris’s body until he’s settled on the ground between Chris’s thighs. He looks up to see Chris looking at him with glassy eyes, and he can’t help it, he has to cup his own cock and rub himself through his jeans, he hasn’t felt this turned on in so fucking long.
“Now what?” Zach asks innocently, as if he didn’t know what came next.
Chris lets out an incredulous laugh and bites his lip, “Jesus, Zach, you know, just…” Chris seems to give up on words and instead moves his hand up his thigh to cup his cock and grind roughly against it.
Zach groans at the sight and comes to the conclusion that this is really not the time for games. Not when Chris is practically getting himself off above him and asking for Zach to suck his cock. He bats Chris’s hand away and leans forward so his head is resting on the v of Chris’s thighs, Zach mumbles, “look at me,” into his crotch and unzips Chris’s fly with his teeth, edging slowly down and Chris moans at the contact as Zach’s chin brushes his cock.
In the midst of the pot-induced fog clouding his brain, and probably his judgement but he’s not thinking about that right now, he feels inordinately pleased that that stunt actually worked and resists the sudden urge to punch the air or something equally as mood-killing. But then Chris’s hands are grasping the back of his head, smoothing through his hair and pulling him closer until he’s breathing on the head of Chris’s cock and he can’t stop moving, just lets the tip of his tongue taste and Chris’s hands tighten with a jerk.
“Just do it, god Zach…do it,” Chris mumbles, and Zach would laugh at just how fucking stoned Chris sounds if he wasn’t about to come in his pants without Chris even touching him.
He leans forward and licks up the side, accustoming himself to the taste and the feel and the way precome leaks out the slit. Then Chris moans again, and Zach looks up to see the way his head is thrown back and his neck is glistening with sweat and he can’t hold back, he slips down onto him, going as deep as he can until he feels Chris’s cock brush the back of his throat.
Chris is setting the pace now, pushing and pulling at Zach’s head and he can’t help but think controlling bastard, even though he’s even harder now, so hard he has to slide one of his hands down Chris’s leg to his crotch and grind into his hand, not even bothering to unzip his jeans.
Chris is panting and sighing words into the still air like, “Faster…yes…deeper, Zach god…love your mouth,” and Zach isn’t even hearing the individual words, he focuses on the thick length of Chris’s cock as Chris thrusts into his mouth and the tingle he gets down his spine when Chris starts gripping his hair so tightly a sharp shock of pain startles him.
His pace speeds up, or Chris’s pace does, until Chris’s hips are stuttering up and he’s filling the silence with harsh pants and coming down Zach’s throat. That coupled with the way his grip tightens so much Zach is forcibly pulled down into his crotch until he’s breathing and tasting and feeling only Chris is enough to have him grind hard into his hand and come in his pants, savouring the buzz of pleasure that overcomes him.
He pulls off, lips slick and swollen and hazards a glance up at Chris, who’s looking at him with a dazed expression on his face. Zach can’t resist; he gets up and settles himself so he’s straddling Chris’s thighs. Chris just looks bemused and sighs his appreciation into Zach’s mouth as he kisses him, slow and gentle, tasting pot and almost getting hard again at the thought that Chris can probably taste himself in Zach’s mouth.
They break apart and Zach rests his forehead against Chris’s, feeling heady exhaustion from the past few hours wash over him and his eyelids feel heavy and it would be so easy to just fall into his dreams here.
But then Chris has to go and shift under him and say, “dude.”
Zach grunts out an assent.
“I’m fucking hungry.”