A white streak of consciousness throbbed in Harold's sore head; it matched the fire tearing through the sky, flashing in the window. Thunder-- thunder? What?
"Ensign-- Chekov?" Eh? He'd never called him that before. Harold didn't know it (didn't really know much at this point), but he had pulled it from the part of Hikaru's memory before he'd known Pavel very well.
He tried and failed to move, and the room spun. Darkness overtook him again.
"Lee!" Pavel tore himself away from the console he was furiously typing at, trying to get the storm--no, the damn typhoon--to stop. He crouched by Harold and gripped his shoulders, trying to rouse the man awake again. "Lee, please speak to me
( ... )
Harold flinched into a ball, pulling his limbs to his body, his entire being suffused with pain. No. Fucking refuse, man.
The burning chemical curled in his veins, drawing him out of his blissful sleep. He saw the hypospray; he wasn't stupid, even in his haze, he knew what was done. It was- cruel, he thought. What'd you do that for? He rolled over, curling into the fetal position, choking on his own sob.
Crap. Pavel hadn't exactly known what the hypospray would do, but he didn't expect Harold to flinch that much.
He dragged Harold back into a seating position, trying to ignore the man's protests. Pavel felt bad, really, and he took Harold's neck and chin in his hands, feeling the heat grace his fingers.
"Lee, listen to me." Pavel urged, stopping himself from shaking Harold too much for fear of further damage. "You must tell me where you are hurting. Can you see my face clearly? Can you hear with both ears? Do you know who you are?" Sure, the last bit was a stretch, but he had to make absolutely sure, really.
When he saw how pained Harold's expression was Pavel's heart constricted. "I am sorry, Lee, but this is important. You can sleep soon." There was a sedative in the med kit, but he wouldn't dare want to mix it with the adrenaline injection. It was for precautions only.
"Yes," he said simply, without hesitation. His answer had many dimensions to it - most of them we need to listen to each other, stop and wait and learn to love before we do this - but the simple fact was: Harold wanted Pavel, and at that moment, they fit.
However the chips would fall after, he could deal with it if Pavel could. It wasn't going to fix anything, really, and even through his drink and pain addled stupor, he knew that; sex was not magically healing.
They could have a moment in time together, though. It was what it was. One man's simple connection to another.
Yes. Harold had said, and a puzzle piece fell into place. Pavel wanted it too, simple as that.
No explanation, there couldn't be, it just was. It wasn't like the connection between Hikaru and Harold, not open and audible, it was the type that was muted and silent, lying beneath the layers. Inexplicable, unnavoidable,
a full circle.
Pavel wrapped his arms around Harold's neck, drawing in, never breaking the gaze. "Show me." He breathed, the 'me too' unspoken but hopefully not unheard.
None of the soft, closed-mouth kisses now. He delved into Pavel's mouth, tasting him properly this time, no shame to taint the flavor. Wrapping fingers around his waist, he drew Pavel to him, lining their bodies up; he pulled at Pavel's shirt from the waist, lifting it, sliding long fingers across pale skin.
Bliss. Completion, whatever you wanted to call it. Pavel rocked into Harold's hips, heat pooling to his groin, goosebumps appearing on his skin when he was exposed to the air, breath becoming hot and heavy as the tide of their caresses changed, thunder still clapping in the background but completely unheard.
He planted a kiss to Harold's adam's apple, trailing his tongue to the clavicle. Then Pavel finished pulling his own shirt off, motioning to help Harold's out of his.
Comments 59
"Ensign-- Chekov?" Eh? He'd never called him that before. Harold didn't know it (didn't really know much at this point), but he had pulled it from the part of Hikaru's memory before he'd known Pavel very well.
He tried and failed to move, and the room spun. Darkness overtook him again.
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Reply
What the fuck.
Harold flinched into a ball, pulling his limbs to his body, his entire being suffused with pain. No. Fucking refuse, man.
The burning chemical curled in his veins, drawing him out of his blissful sleep. He saw the hypospray; he wasn't stupid, even in his haze, he knew what was done. It was- cruel, he thought. What'd you do that for? He rolled over, curling into the fetal position, choking on his own sob.
Reply
He dragged Harold back into a seating position, trying to ignore the man's protests. Pavel felt bad, really, and he took Harold's neck and chin in his hands, feeling the heat grace his fingers.
"Lee, listen to me." Pavel urged, stopping himself from shaking Harold too much for fear of further damage. "You must tell me where you are hurting. Can you see my face clearly? Can you hear with both ears? Do you know who you are?" Sure, the last bit was a stretch, but he had to make absolutely sure, really.
When he saw how pained Harold's expression was Pavel's heart constricted. "I am sorry, Lee, but this is important. You can sleep soon." There was a sedative in the med kit, but he wouldn't dare want to mix it with the adrenaline injection. It was for precautions only.
Reply
However the chips would fall after, he could deal with it if Pavel could. It wasn't going to fix anything, really, and even through his drink and pain addled stupor, he knew that; sex was not magically healing.
They could have a moment in time together, though. It was what it was. One man's simple connection to another.
Reply
No explanation, there couldn't be, it just was. It wasn't like the connection between Hikaru and Harold, not open and audible, it was the type that was muted and silent, lying beneath the layers. Inexplicable, unnavoidable,
a full circle.
Pavel wrapped his arms around Harold's neck, drawing in, never breaking the gaze. "Show me." He breathed, the 'me too' unspoken but hopefully not unheard.
Reply
Reply
He planted a kiss to Harold's adam's apple, trailing his tongue to the clavicle. Then Pavel finished pulling his own shirt off, motioning to help Harold's out of his.
Reply
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