For He's a Jolly Good Fellow

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WHO: Jim Kirk & Samouel Gareth
WHAT: Jim and Sam discover something about each other
WHEN: Backdated slightly to Wintermarch 4/5
WHERE: Sam and Kirk's Loft
NOTES: Ridiculous revelations, probably come sexual content

"Sam, how old are you?"

Even for Kirk, the question came out of left field, and he had been the one to ask it. Why this suddenly struck him as important he couldn't quite say, since he was safely sure that Sam was of a legal age, and not knowing had done nothing to affect their relationship as it stood.

Perhaps it had come on as he lay there beside Sam, nestled into him and simply enjoying his presence while his fingers idly drifted over his stomach and thighs. He could name many things he knew about Sam, quite a few of them not something you should really mention in polite company. Of course at some point his mind would come up to the issue of age, and realize that he simply didn't know. It had never been something he'd asked Sam, nor Sam him. It simply never felt important.

Except for right now, because he was asking it, head turned upwards to look at Sam with eyes big from curiosity.

Comments

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Kirk remained quiet for a moment, letting the warm silence spread between them. He filled it peppered kisses and the scrape of Sam's stubble against his cheek, the rustle of sheets as he adjusted the twining of their legs. He let the silence fill with the warmth and ease of their companionship, with the affection he felt so deeply for Samouel.

"For you, of course," he murmured into his ear.

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"Don't tell me that. I might just use that against you," he teases, because he knows he's already done just that. A lot. Kirk has himself to thank for that though, seeing as he taught that to him in ways.

He grins at that, letting his head fall to his pillow so that he can free up his hand to lightly mess with Kirk's hair.

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He truly has created his greatest weakness hasn't he? Not that he particularly minds - he would let Sam do just about anything to him, and would do just about anything for Samouel. His lashes fluttered when Samouel pet his hair, tilting into the sweet pressure of it.

"Do your worst, Samouel," he brushed his fingers over his jaw, a quiet smile on his lips.