Title: Almost Honest (Young Men's Fancies #7)
Author: Jane (jat_sapphire)
Contact: jat_sapphire@yahoo.com
Series: pre-TOS
Rating: [NC-17]
Codes: K/MitchellSummary: Kirk's adventures, senior year at Starfleet Academy. Later the same night as YMF6, Flowers for Ruth.
Archive: Yes, please. Keep headings and disclaimers and what-not.
Disclaimer: Star Trek and most of the characters here are Paramount's. I invented a few cadets in the background, and the Academy computer identification system, and made up a whole lot of stuff for the characters to do with and without technology. I don't make money at this.
Series Notes:
This is a series of stories about Kirk's early sexual and emotional life; he's bisexual, and as sexually active as I can make him. Previous installments are "That Fairness Thing," "Rain Check," "Party Like It's '99," "The Trouble With Gary," "The No-Win Scenario," and "Flowers for Ruth."
Young Men's Fancies
#7: Almost Honest
*****
Still May, Jim's Senior Year
***Jim keyed in his password and the door of his dorm room opened, but the lights weren't on. He stepped in anyway, saying "Lights," but nothing happened. "Lights, one hundred percent," he tried again. The corridor was only half lit for the night but this was a complete, stifling darkness. "Systems check, lights," he said, expecting to hear the computer say 'Working.'
"Lights ten percent," said Gary's voice, and a dim illumination showed Jim the suddenly alien space of his own room.
Gary got up from Jim's bed. He was naked. He walked toward Jim slowly, and Jim looked at the body he had only seen like this once before - and then not quite like this. Gary's cock was nearly flaccid, completely covered by the soft sheath of skin, gathered at the tip.
"I've been doing myself on your bed," said Gary, and now he was right in front of Jim, and then he moved like a guard dog attacking an intruder, and Jim was slammed against the wall, held by Gary's hands on his arms and the cruel glint in Gary's eyes. "While you were doing the girl."
Jim responded without having to think: he was angry himself. "Right. She's an old friend. Ruth."
"You fucked her. Don't give me 'old friend.'"
"I did." His own hands came up and grabbed Gary's arms. "I fucked her. Smell her on me, Gary? I asked and she said yes and I fucked her and we both enjoyed it. No secrets, no weeks of wondering. Are you asking if I'm sorry? I'm. Not. Sorry!" He was shaking Gary now, and Gary kept his neck straight and glared into Jim's eyes the whole time, riding back and forth in his hands.
Yet, Jim realized, there was something else beside anger in his face. "No secrets?" asked Gary softly, and the sound crawled up Jim's spine, and he let go.
But Gary went on. "Why do you think you ran into her tonight?"
"What do you mean?" asked Jim, though he thought he knew from the tone of Gary's voice.
"Mick brought her because I asked him to. I met you at the pub so he could bring her there. A set up, Jim. I did it."
"Then what the fuck are you so angry about?" And hurt; there was pain in the brown eyes too, but Jim couldn't think about that now. "Was I supposed to bring her here? Was it a threesome I spoiled? And what about your adopted brother? Or is he working the hidden camera? Finnegan!" he yelled the name, though he didn't really think Finnegan was there. But then, he'd been wrong before, this evening. Anyway Finnegan didn't appear. Jim grasped Gary's waist when he tried to step away. "Set me up! You've been fucking setting me up all along!"
"I knew it was an act, all that innocence, all that goodness. I knew it, I just had to see it, had to see you just walk away." Suddenly Gary leaned in, slid his arms up Jim's to his neck, bent his head and spoke nearly touching Jim's lips as he had outside the mess hall, "Now stop pretending. Come down here in the mud with the rest of us."
Jim pushed him away so hard he staggered, and Jim's own elbows bounced back into the wall. "Get dressed and get out of here," Jim said.
Gary stood still, and ran his hand up and down the side of his body. "You want me to get dressed," he said languidly, and rubbed his chest with the other hand, "do you?" Both hands down to his thighs, and then up to his nipples, and then, slowly, down over his stomach.
"Yes," said Jim.
"And now?" Gary stroked his cock, running the backs of his fingers along the lengthening shaft. He took one step, and was under a ceiling light; recessed, its beam came straight down and struck the dark rough hair, the planes of shoulders and the curves of pectoral muscles and arms ... and his cock, rising into the light as he rubbed it, the head reaching out of the foreskin, gleaming.
Jim swallowed. "Yes," he said.
Gary tilted his head back and the light spilled over his face, and he fingered his own balls and thrust his hips forward. "Say yes again," he said, "you sound so good when you say yes."
Jim gritted his teeth and ignored his own arousal. "Gary!" he snapped. "Stop it! For god's sake, I'll call Security if you don't get out! Now get your clothes on! I don't know what game you're playing but I'm not. Do you hear me? Get out of my room and don't ever break in here again. I'm changing my lock code tomorrow. Today, I mean."
Gary's hands slipped away from his cock and he stood straighter, but he didn't move otherwise. "You can't," he said. "I changed the access. I left your lock code as alternate, but it's not the main one any more."
This wasn't just something Gary would be reprimanded for - if Jim called Security now, Gary would be expelled and arrested. "You've lost your mind," said Jim. "What did you think you were doing? Gary, why?"
"I wanted to come in here," Gary spoke evenly, as if what he was saying were ordinary. "I wanted to touch everything. I wanted to try on your clothes and taste your toothpaste. And jerk off on your bed."
"Any of that, all of it, if you hadn't broken in, if you hadn't done this," said Jim. "Did you think I wouldn't let you in? I've imagined you here over and over. Gary - " his throat closed. He shook his head, swallowed, cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough when he spoke again. "You ruined it. I want you to go."
"No, I won't. Can't," Gary said, voice dropping. He turned, and the movement seemed aimless; he wandered to the armchair in the corner and sat in it, then drew up his legs - was he cold? - and curled into the curve of the padding, arms loosely around his knees.
Jim stepped away from the wall. "Why not?"
Gary buried his face in the crook of one elbow.
Jim looked around for Gary's clothes and finally spotted them in a heap beside the bed. He went to get them. Though the dim light made it hard to tell, Jim thought Gary really had jerked off in the tumbled sheets. He took the clothes over to Gary and crouched down in front of the chair.
He wanted to be angry but the figure huddled in front of him looked too defeated and lost. In fact, while he was trying to think of what to say, Gary shivered, and Jim found himself rubbing the chill flank nearest him. "Gary," he said, and somehow his voice had gone soothing, "Gary, tell me what's going on."
"Closer," Gary muttered, so low that Jim was already leaning nearer before he registered what the word was.
"Gary?" he asked, his mind grasping at alternate explanations.
"Good ... keep rubbing, it looks like sex. Say something sexy."
Jim didn't know why he was going along with this, but said, "Gary, your skin feels good."
"Not real convincing." Gary rubbed his forehead back and forth on his arm and Jim decided he'd save the comments on Gary's stage direction for later.
"Gary, baby, why didn't you just tell me? How you felt?" Jim said in what he hoped was a sexy growl, and leaned even nearer, until his head touched Gary's and he might have been kissing Gary's ear or thereabouts.
"Finnegan is recording." The murmur was even quieter.
"When this is over I'm going to kill you," whispered Jim, meaning it, or anyway meaning something very painful.
"Finnegan first."
"You got that right. Where is he?"
"Don't know."
"So let's stop the game and find him."
"No. Can't. Listen, Jim. It's important. It's important."
Jim had never heard him sound so desperate. "What?"
"Listen, we have to fool him, we have to fuck."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
Jim rubbed Gary's leg and didn't reply.
"Trust me," Gary said, voice thinning into a whisper.
Jim sat back, squatting now beside the chair, nearly an arm's length from Gary, who raised his head. His expression was tragic, and then utterly blank. Jim cupped Gary's face in his hands, rubbed his thumbs across the full lips, and said for Gary and for the recording, "How can I trust you, baby?"
Gary's lips parted and one of Jim's thumbs tipped into his mouth. Jim pushed in, feeling Gary's teeth and tongue, and Gary sucked the thumb for a second and then bit down, hard enough to make Jim jump and pull his thumb back out. "Don't call me baby," said Gary, a glint in his eyes. "Call the blonde bitch anything you want but call me by my name."
Jim slid his hands to grasp Gary's whole head and stood, pulling Gary up, and Gary awkwardly followed. Jim wasn't being gentle, and he pulled Gary's face to his and kissed him, teeth hard enough against teeth to bruise both sets of lips between, and Gary grabbed handfuls of Jim's back and squeezed hard. "Gary," Jim said when he broke the kiss, and then bit Gary's chin, not as hard as Gary had bitten his thumb, and said "Gary," again, and bit high up on Gary's cheek, harder. "Gary." No, it wouldn't be hard to fuck him. Now when he pulled back, there was a different glint in Gary's eyes, which Jim thought were watering from the pain.
"You have something with you, I hope," Jim said to him. "Because otherwise I'm fucking you dry."
"Had it with my clothes," said Gary, "did you lose it?"
"You look," Jim said, and pushed him away.
He was going to strip for the recorders. He didn't know how he felt about it or why he was doing it. But before he could unfasten his dress tunic, Gary grabbed him by the forearms and said, "Don't think you're running this."
Several things to say, more or less to Gary and to Finnegan's recording, went through Jim's mind. He chose one almost at random. He reached out for Gary, ran his hands firmly down the bare chest and stomach and upper thighs, then up his sides, then drew him closer and rubbed down again to his ass, then up again until one hand cupped the back of Gary's head and the other curved over his shoulder, his own fingers even with his eyes. All this time Gary had stood still. Jim said, pitched to carry beyond their embrace, "I want to. Let me." Slid one hand down again, slowly, slipped his fingers into the crack of Gary's ass, rubbed in and out of it. Gary sighed and leaned his forehead against Jim's hair. "Yes, let me. Yes. Tell me. This excites you. You want me this way."
"I ... want you," said Gary, not qualifying it but sounding almost honest. As honest, maybe, as either of them could be tonight.
"Gary." Jim rewarded him with a better kiss, moving swiftly into his mouth but not trying to hurt him, licking at Gary's tongue and sucking it into his mouth, holding him. Holding his ass again, circling his hands on the cheeks, squeezing them, almost the massage he'd imagined in Iowa. But it would be better not to think of Iowa.
Jim reached between them and pulled Gary’s half-erect cock upward, between their stomachs. Then he took Gary’s hips in his hands and fit his cock between Gary’s thighs, and rubbed against him, rubbed the cloth of his pants against Gary’s skin and his own. It felt rough even to Jim, and Gary squirmed as if to move away but Jim held him. Then Gary began to work his hands into Jim’s clothes, moving the hem of the tunic up, sliding his hands into Jim’s waistband and trying to work around to the fly, and soon they were struggling, Jim to hold their position and Gary to undress Jim. Gary scratched his nails up the skin of Jim's back, and Jim shivered all over, once, and again.
"This is what you want too," said Gary, staring down into Jim's eyes, and Jim couldn't have denied it even if there had been no tape to record his answer. Gary in his room, in his bed - he hadn't been lying when he said he'dd fantasized it.
Jim's stillness let Gary slip his hands around between them and in a moment Jim's pants were unfastened and Gary was pushing them down, palms flat against Jim's legs. Warm. Strange, Jim thought, how even though Gary had seemed so cold in the armchair, his hands now were so warm. Gary took off Jim's boots and tossed them, and then the pants, away. Jim's hands settled on the sides of Gary's head, moved in circles around his ears, in his hair. Gary knelt up and took Jim's cock in his mouth as simply as if he did it every night. For all Jim knew - the bitter thought ambushed him - Gary did do this with someone every night. Jim stepped back, pulling himself from Gary's mouth. The air was chill on his wet cock.
Gary looked up, and then stood, and they stared at each other.
"Bring the lights up," said Jim.
"Lights, forty percent."
That was better, not glaring but much brighter than Ruth's bedroom. "I want this to be different," he said right out of that thought. "I want to change the rules. I want a scenario I can win. We can win." Gary raised his chin and Jim stepped in again and held the sides of his face, felt the warmth of his body, looked into his eyes. "Come with me. I've been in the mud, I'm a farm boy. That's where things grow, Gary." He pulled Gary's head down to his shoulder and spoke directly into his ear. "This is ours if we make it ours. Forget Mick. Make love to me." He kissed Gary's ear, probing and tracing its curves, and Gary quivered and kissed Jim's neck, then swung his head up and it was just Gary and Jim, they were alone, Gary tasted so good and he was licking fire into Jim's mouth, it felt like, and holding Jim's waist under the tunic, hands nearly spanning the small of Jim's back. Jim's hands were all over Gary's skin until he scarcely knew what he was touching.
Gary broke the kiss and ducked his head and took a fold of Jim's tunic between his teeth as if to tear it, then let go. "Take this fucking shirt off," he said breathlessly.
Jim moved his arms to do it and Gary stepped back once to let him, and then again, eyes huge and fixed on Jim, and then seemed to force his head to one side, then the other. Looking for his clothes, Jim supposed.
Jim pulled the tunic over his head and dropped it, then strolled past Gary, nearly touching him, to bend over the heap of clothes by the armchair. Gary watched him. Jim found the soft gelpack of lube and brought it back, walking out of his way to brush past Gary again, to the bed where he stripped off the wet, tangled topsheet and cover. Gary was right behind him now, and took the gelpack from his hand as he turned, opened it, and cupped one of Jim's hands in his own to spurt the clear gel into it. Then he moved his hand away just far enough to put gel in his own palm too. He dropped the pack and reached for Jim's cock with both hands, stroking and lifting it and, as it hardened more and stood up, smoothing on the gel. Jim swayed on his feet with the delicious swelling, slippery feeling, and pressed his empty hand flat on Gary's shoulder, urging him to the bed.
Gary sat and then lay down and then rolled away onto his side. He lifted one leg, and Jim rubbed gel between his fingers and then there, between Gary's cheeks, back and forth and around the opening and into it, and Gary pushed back almost immediately, taking the whole finger faster than Jim would have put it in. Jim kissed his shoulder and massaged his ass and wanted another pair of hands to stroke the rest of him, he was so beautiful in the half-light, his dark head tousled and his back beginning to arch and his hands on his own cock.
Two fingers now, and Jim remembered to tuck the nail of the index finger against the front of the middle finger and he moved them in and out in smooth sweeps, and Gary rocked back and forth. Jim couldn't see well enough, so he murmured into Gary's ear, "On your stomach," and kissed him on the neck and then near the spine as he moved. Gary grabbed the pillow and stuffed it under himself, and Jim knelt between the strong thighs and stroked them, then separated Gary's ass and looked at the glistening opening. He felt a little awkward as he used his hand to position his cock, but he was new to this too and feeling awkward now was better than hurting Gary by not being in the right place. He pushed a little and Gary pressed his shoulders into the mattress, tilting his ass up even farther, and Jim leaned over and licked his back as he rocked in, a little, a little more, hands holding Gary's hips and then sliding up his sides and then back down to his hips for each new stroke. The way Gary gripped him was unbelievable and the way his profile looked, eyes closed and lips ajar against the mattress, was beyond what Jim had imagined. He wished he could reach to kiss Gary, or even that he'd let Jim call him by any of the silly, sweet names so easy to use for girls like Ruth, but instead Jim thrust deeper and Gary braced his hands and pushed back.
"Yeah, Jim, fuck harder," Gary said, eyes still closed, "harder, harder!"
And Jim did, sweating and straining, hearing the slap and feeling the jolt of each thrust, and Gary really was on all fours now, and the bed creaked under them. Tighter, faster, harder, and Jim knew it wouldn't take him long now - a few more - maybe one more - "Gary!" he cried, coming, "Gary!" and collapsed onto Gary's bent back.
Gary twisted under him and spilled him onto his side. Jim heard a wet sound as his cock slipped from Gary's ass. Feeling wrung out, Jim lay unmoving, eyes closed, as the bed tilted under him. Then he was rolled onto his back and felt a knee on each side of his ribs, and when his eyes opened, the first thing he focused on was Gary's hard-on hovering over him. The foreskin had retracted and the broad head was completely bare, the color of a cherry caramel.
Jim had seen a picture of someone lying flat and being mouth-fucked - it hadn't looked like anything he wanted to try tonight. He stroked up Gary's legs until his hands were flat against Gary's pelvis and his forearms braced against Gary's thighs, for the contact but also for the leverage. Gary was staring at him, just staring, his face in shadow. Then suddenly he bent down and buried his face in Jim's tangled hair to murmur, "Mick wanted face-fucking."
Jim turned toward him, said, "We're not doing this for Mick," and pushed, and again harder when Gary resisted. Then he let himself roll onto his side and Jim put his fingers into Gary's sweaty hair and kissed him, face and throat and chest, hands on his skin and licking some of the sweat there, and then again because it tasted so good and because Gary fell onto his back and said "Oh," and moving on, Jim felt a little dizzy but couldn't tell whether it was tiredness or the nearness of Gary's cock or the feeling of Gary pliant under his mouth and hands. He felt like dropping to sleep and he felt like he couldn't possibly ever stop touching Gary.
Tasting Gary. He nearly was. This was something he'd done before though he was no expert. He settled on one elbow and wrapped the other hand around Gary's cock and took the head into his mouth. As always it felt twice the size it had looked. Smelled musky and exciting. Tasted salty and ... Jim couldn't have described it except that it was so different than a woman tasted, so good and more Gary somehow than his face was. Jim sucked and licked and sucked again, and Gary tightened and relaxed the long muscles in his thighs, not really thrusting, and Jim rocked the heel of his hand against Gary's balls and tongued him in every way he could think of, even tucking under the band of the foreskin, which seemed to jolt Gary each time Jim did it. Gary moved his hips faster and took gasping, short breaths and Jim could feel him getting to the edge, hanging there for a few seconds that seemed to take much longer, and then coming in the rush that always startled Jim a little, and he took a lot of it in his mouth but pulled back an inch or so and a lot spilled out too, back down Gary and onto Jim's hand.
"Oh, Jim," came Gary's voice, sounding far away and full of such mixed feelings that Jim couldn't tell what they were. Jim wiped the back of his hand on Gary's thigh, the nearest dry spot, and licked at the semen. "Jim," said Gary in surprise and pleasure and so Jim kept going, leisurely, cleaning Gary off with his tongue and, for variety, his fingers, while Gary rubbed his shoulder and head and whatever was under his hand. He looked as exhausted as Jim felt.
The very thought of talking was too much to face though Jim knew that once he wasn't quite so wiped out, he'd want to slam Gary into the nearest wall and make him say everything, everything he'd been withholding, his whole damn life story if Jim could get it out of him. He shoved weakly at Gary who slid over very slowly, and Jim reached around the mattress and pulled the edge of the sheet out and around them as far as it would go when he was pressed full length against Gary. Jim was damned if he was leaving this bed for a long while and didn't want to be colder than he had to be.
When Jim was just dropping off, Gary got up, and Jim made a sound of protest and held on as much as he could, which wasn't much at the moment. Gary smoothed his hair and kissed his temple, and then after a second's pause, kissed his forehead and his cheek lingeringly before he got up anyway, and Jim fought his way out of sleep and pushed himself halfway up on his elbows to see Gary vanish into the bathroom. That was probably all right, so Jim collapsed to the bed again, and was nearly asleep when Gary climbed in, pulling something over them as he settled back against Jim. Warm. Good. Jim turned toward him and slipped down into real sleep at last.
**end of "Almost Honest"**
Continued in "Morning Has Broken"