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The pure vastness of space never failed to impress him. Even after years working for Starfleet the view outside of the windows still amazed him. No matter if they happened to be part of a station or a ship. Sometimes at the slow points of his life he found himself staring outside, thoughts slipping from him, mind drifting among the beauty of all the stars in front of him. Simply admiring, appreciating the art that was the universe, alive and breathing and - for a long time of his life - unmatched. Right now though the beauty of space paled, retreated humbly into the background, making room for something so much more breathtaking.
'Hard to believe it's been technically 930 years since we last looked at this view.'
'Mm-hm,' Hugh hummed. He was not really paying attention, distracted by the contrast of white skin in front of never ending black.
Paul never had been all that fond of stargazing. Too busy bothering himself with things he could analyse to the very fabric of their design, understand, and then turn into something even more brilliant with his own two hands. It was insufferable at times, but also oh so lovable, and Hugh's heart swelled by the mere thought of the passion and determination that were so undeniably tied to Paul's personality.
'You're the one who wanted to do this. Are you even looking?' There was a hint of irritation in his lover's voice, a slight furrow to his brow, as he turned ever so slightly to look back at Hugh. But Hugh had long learned to distinguish real anger from annoyance and from times Paul just was not sure how to convey his emotions.
'Oh don't worry. I'm looking,' Hugh said and smiled.
Pale skin glinted in the dimmed light of their quarters, outlined starkly in front of the star filled darkness behind it. Paul looked back at him, white lashes fluttering, almost transparent in the way they caught the light, expressive blue eyes never leaving Hugh's face, gaze filled with confusion. His hair, still slightly damp from the shower, almost shone and Hugh once again was starstruck by how fair the other man was. He let his gaze wander over the curves of Paul's body. Wiry muscles covered by porcelain skin. Strong arms, sturdy hips, the round shape of his ass. He stood in front of the window, just enough turned to give an idea of what the stars must see. Hugh knew of course, knew every bump of bone, every give of flesh, every wrinkle and every scar. Knew how they looked, how they felt, even with these still new hands of his. He knew how the skin tasted, what sounds would fill the air. Knew every give and tell. Knew them by heart, like an old bedtime story, familiar and safe. Looking at Paul like this made him realise what he almost had lost. What he had been foolishly ready to give up. But it also filled him with this feeling of love so strong every fibre of his body screamed with desire. Because Paul Stamets was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
'Hugh?' Paul asked, irritation slipping into his voice.
Hugh's eyes snapped up to Paul's face again. He caught his lover's gaze with his and could feel the smile burning warm and bright on his own face, unable and unwilling to conceal the emotions that wanted to break out of his chest. 'Just as beautiful as I remember.'
Watching Paul blush was like watching an artist paint. Rose colour starting at his cheeks, high above the bone, light and almost feathery, as if yet uncertain in which direction the painting might evolve. Colour deepening, the strokes more confident as they covered defined features, brush pressed firm against the canvas, soaking his ears in beautiful contrasty crimson; flowing down his neck slowly mixing back into white.
'I-' Paul started, eloquence failing him. He licked his lips, shifted his stance and turned until the universe was stretching out behind his back and Hugh could see just how much his words were affecting his partner.
'So beautiful, love,' he breathed and felt like he never said words more true.
Paul's face melted, eyelids fluttering as his lips curled up into one of those warm, loving smiles that robbed Hugh of his breath every time, that made him want to give the world to this man, and then a little bit more.
'Come here, darling,' Hugh murmured, expanding his hand towards the other.
Paul moved forward, steps light almost carefully, as if the early morning had cast a spell over them that no one wanted to break, eyes glued together, the world around them almost forgotten. There was so much emotion in those blue eyes that Hugh wanted nothing more than to pull Paul down into his arms, hold him as close as he could, nose buried in his neck, kisses pressed against his skin. Instead he took hold of his hand. Paul shuddered at the touch, swallowing visibly, breath heavy in the air between them. But he waited, patient for once, curious, mesmerised.
‘Hugh,’ he breathed out again.
‘Yes?’ Hugh responded in that same low voice, like a secret shared between them. He raised Paul’s hand, pressed the tips of the fingers to his lips, just the hint of a touch. He watched Paul’s eyes fall close, as he travelled down over fingers, the palm of his hand, his wrist. Featherlight kisses over delicate skin.
‘Love you so much, Paul,’ he murmured against the puls under his lips.
Paul sighed in response, the small sound sweet like a melody in Hugh’s ears as he kissed his way further over heated skin, burying his nose against the side of Paul’s arm, taking in the feel of translucent hair, the smell of freshly washed skin, the way muscles shifted, reacting to his loving touch.
‘Hugh,’ Paul said a third time, voice slightly unsteady, raw with emotion. It still amazed Hugh how much underlying meaning could hide in this voice; How he managed to know exactly what his partner was feeling by just the sound of his own name falling from Paul’s lips. ‘Please don’t.’
He searched Paul’s gaze again and the pained, broken expression he found hurt to see. Made him arch and wish to turn everything okay, make sure they were safe and sound and together, always and forever.
‘Every little part of you,’ he said, not breaking eye contact when he pressed his mouth against Paul’s arm again, not a hint of hesitation in his action. The metal was cold and solid, so different from the flesh around it that it made him want to flinch. But it was undeniable a part of Paul now as every other part of him. And even though Hugh detested them - maybe even more than Paul did - he would never shy away from them. Never turn a blind eye on what they implied, what they reminded him off. Never leave the person he cared most about alone with this. Or with anything else. Never again.
‘Every part,’ Hugh repeated, thump swiping over the place his mouth had been.
Paul stared at him, a second, two, before he slipped into the space between Hugh’s legs, bent down, gripping Hugh’s face with his hands, and kissed him. Long and appetent, pressing himself as close as he could get. When they parted Paul smiled down at him, all warm and content. Hugh tilted his head, pressing another kiss to Paul’s palm, before he freed himself enough to be able to press his face against the chest right in front of him. He wrapped his arms around Paul’s back and nuzzled his nose against the softly moving surface, taking in the smell that surrounded him. If he could stay like this forever, he would not complain. He smiled and pressed a wet kiss right in the middle of Paul’s chest and felt the laugh more than he heard it, rumbling through Paul’s thorax.
‘What are you doing?’ Paul asked, voice still tinted by laughter.
‘Admiring how beautiful my husband is,’ Hugh said. He accompanied the statement with a few more kisses, just for good measurement.
Paul laughed again. It was light and free, how it always should be. How Hugh wished it always would be. He let his hands wander over the plains of Paul’s back, palms flat against the skin, fingers trailing up the spine and down the sides again, chasing goosebumps. Paul sighed as he pulled Hugh up into another kiss, chapped, so familiar lips moving against Hugh’s own, as he drowned the sound in the other’s throat. Breath mingling, tongues joint in an old familiar dance. Until they were both breathless and grinning against each other.
‘God, Hugh,’ Paul said. Hugh could feel the words moving against his mouth, the air brushing over his face. He stole another peck from those pink, swollen lips.
‘Yes, dear?’
Paul looked at him, eyes shining in this certain way that told Hugh he wanted to ask for something - wanted something from him - and was just not fully there yet. And he knew that he had to wait, had to let him get there on his own. Even if it would be faster to just draw the conclusions himself sometimes, to guess and push, to take the words out of Paul’s mouth. But he knew Paul hated to be pressured. Even if talking about his needs - especially these kinds of needs - did not come natural to him. It was one of the things the Tardigrade had not changed. Paul’s instinct to fight everything alone. And Hugh would hate to be the only driving force in their relationship. Because Paul was smart, and bright and so fundamentally good. It was also a wonderful sight to see. The process of Paul breaking down his own walls, just because he really wanted something, trusted Hugh enough to actually ask for that something.
‘Could I have seconds?’ he asked then, after just a heartbeat.
Hugh, instead of an answer, fastened his grip around Paul’s waist and let himself fall back, pulling the other man with him until they both hit the mattress, Paul on top of him, laughing. Hugh closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to just breathe. He felt content, in love and just so alive. Paul wriggled over him until he managed to roll off without fully breaking the embrace. They shuffled themselves around so they were comfortably lying eye to eye. Hugh removed his hand from Paul’s hip in favour of mapping out the features of his face; drawing a line from the round bridge of his nose over still slightly coloured cheekbones, along the strong, squared bone of his jaw and back up over his cheek. Paul closed his eyes as fingertips stroked over the lid ever so careful, face relaxing, the corner of his mouth curling up in a lax smile. Hugh put his thumb over the dimple in his cheek.
‘I’m a really lucky man,’ he said, focusing on the way those rose coloured, kiss swollen lips bent under the pressure as he traced the outline of the smile.
‘I believe that makes two of us,’ Paul said, voice full of emotion. He smiled and caught Hugh’s fingers between his teeth, blunt sensation scraping over nerves. Hugh watched, gaze unwavering and could feel himself stir.
‘Seconds?’ Paul asked again, lapping his tongue around the digits in his mouth, taking obvious delight out of the way Hugh’s breath got out of tact.
‘Always,’ Hugh replied. He pressed down on the muscle under his tips until Paul’s jaw fell open. Then he kissed him, replacing fingers with his tongue, hand trailing down, leaving a wet trail down chin and chest. He flipped them around, resting himself on Paul’s stomach, one hand still on Paul’s chest, the other gripping his jaw, hard. Paul moaned into the kiss, pressing himself up against Hugh, not struggling, just responding. When they parted Paul had this dopey smile on his face again, relaxed, eyelids heavy, pupils blown wide. Hugh could get drunk on this view alone. He kissed the bridge of Paul’s nose, the tip, the wing, eliciting a chuckle. His lips followed the path his fingers had sketched out just seconds ago. When he reached Paul’s mouth again he playfully nibbled on the bottom lip before moving over to the jaw, tasting skin against his tongue, feeling the rough sensation of stubble, drinking the small, lovely sounds his partner made just next to his ear. Paul’s work callused hands came to rest on Hugh’s hips, fingers loosely digging into the small of his back, thumbs rubbing undefined patterns over his hip bone that made Hugh shiver and sigh against Paul’s jaw.
‘How do you wanna have your seconds babe?’ Hugh asked, straightening himself again so he could comfortably watch Paul’s reaction.
Paul hummed, readjusting his grip until his hands rested more on Hugh’s behind then his hips. ‘What’s on the menu?’ He asked then.
‘Oh no darling,’ Hugh said, giving his partner’s lips a short peck, pressing himself back against his fingers in the process. ‘That’s not how this game is played.’
‘Well then I have something of what you had earlier,’ Paul said, letting his fingertips dance over Hugh’s flesh, teasingly emphasising his words.
‘That can be arranged,’ Hugh said, while moving backwards until he kneeled comfortably between Paul’s thighs. Then he bent down once more to continue the journey of his mouth down Paul’s upper body. Lips and tongue and teeth. Taking delight out of the way the blush followed him along and how Paul’s breath became unsteady, hitching in his throat, short, sharp gasps of air, skin shivering under Hugh’s lips. When he reached the soft flesh of Paul’s stomach he could feel the heavy flow of air, could feel the moan that worked itself through Paul’s body as he dipped his tongue into the belly button long before it reached his ears and groaned in response. Paul shifted, pulling his legs up, parting them further to grant Hugh more access, but also to urge him lower. Hugh looked up to blackened eyes, flushed skin and parted lips.
Beautiful , he thought again. So, so beautiful.
‘Could you stop that teasing?’ Paul said, voice creaking in a way that told just how aroused he was.
Hugh grinned. He moved even further back, so he could kiss the inside of Paul’s thigh, sucking a love bite to that sensitive spot where it would be well hidden from anyone’s sight, just for the two of them to know. Small, private reminders on each other's skin.
Paul moaned his name and the sound of that drew a similar noise out of Hugh’s own throat. As much as he loved seeing Paul squirm under his touch, he could feel his own patience thinning.
‘Come on Hugh. I’m waiting.’
Especially when Paul urged him on like this. Eager, demanding, trusting. Utterly perfect. He pressed a firm kiss against the side of Paul’s cock, earning himself a mewl, before he slipped off the bed to fetch the lube. He could feel the eyes on him the whole way, could hear the small pleasured sounds that left Paul’s mouth and made a show out of bending down to open the bedside table door.
‘Am I taking too long for you?’ He asked as he turned back to the bed, taking in the sight of Paul, a finger deep in his own ass.
‘Yes,’ Paul said, bluntly honest, making perfect use of his own hands, knowing exactly what that view did to Hugh. Hugh swallowed hard.
‘You know I could watch you make love to yourself all day, honey, but I don’t think that was what you ordered,’ he said, his own voice slowly getting heavy.
Paul moaned, grabbing himself firmer, moving against the sheets. Still all his attention on Hugh alone. ‘Then hurry and get up here again,’ he squeezed out. ‘Don’t know how long I last. And I really want to have you in me.’
‘Then I would suggest you stop that, cariño,’ Hugh said, while he retook his place between Paul’s legs and swatted playfully against Paul’s arm. Paul raised an eyebrow, while he shifted again, reaching up to pull Hugh down to him, arms locked around his neck. A huff that had wanted to become a laugh or a groan or something else escaped Hugh as he let himself be directed down into a kiss, balancing himself between the mattress and Paul’s knee. The pose they ended up in was just that tad awkward, foreheads pressed together, but Hugh would not want to miss seeing Paul’s face for a second. He liked seeing him while they had sex, read his emotions out of his expressions, feeling himself proud and safe with the familiarity of it. He liked the thought that his partner’s view stirred in him. Hey, I have known this man for years. Still know him like no one else, with all his flaws and idiosyncrasies. The way he knows me back. It was a security like nothing else to be sure of the reciprocated feelings. To know that they worked. Had worked for years. Even after all they had been through. Especially after all they had been through. It made him feel like he could survive anything; quite literally so.
‘Do you want me to turn around?’ Paul asked in the non existing space between them. Hugh could not help but snort because of how close that question brushed against his thoughts and received a confused look as reaction.
‘I want to see you Paul,’ he said. ‘All the way.’ He pulled away to reposition them so he had an actual good angle to reach into Paul. ‘I love the way pleasure and need mix on that expressive face of yours.’
He worked slowly, careful, one lube covered finger at the time. He always took his time, no matter how impatient any of them got. He still was a doctor after all, and he hated the very thought of hurting Paul. The recent events had not helped with this particular fear of his. God if he could make sure he never would leave Paul alone again, he would give anything for that.
Paul pressed back against him, responding with both body and voice.
‘Corny,’ he commented, the amusement in the statement infused with a pleasured quiver. Then Hugh hit the right spot causing Paul to make that special sound at the back of his throat, that was just him . And yes that was the face he had been talking about.
Paul blindly reached out to Hugh’s unoccupied hand and laced their fingers together. The whole gesture was so sweet it made Hugh smile and give their now joint hands a squeeze. Paul squeezed back. His gaze was steady when he looked up at Hugh from under heavy lids. And Hugh had to deal with that overwhelming feeling of adoration every time he looked at Paul today, had he not?
‘Get on with it already,’ Paul said, and his voice sounded wrecked, rough, raw, creaky. Hearing it sent shivers down Hugh’s back. Connotation, memory , setting his nerves on fire.
‘I love you,’ he told Paul. Then he pulled out and detangled his hand from Paul’s grip, because there were just things he was bad at doing one handed.
Paul sighed at the loss. He pushed himself up onto his elbows to be able to watch Hugh, and the temptation to make a show of getting ready was there again, because sometimes Hugh just loved to be that little bit off an arse and unravel even the last of Paul’s nerves. But right now the need of feeling Paul was stronger. He wanted to be in Paul. Pretty bad. And it might have shown on his face, because Paul suddenly looked very pleased. Then Hugh started to push in and Paul fell back on his back, making that sound again.
‘Oh babe,’ Hugh breathed out, interlocking their hands anew, using them to brace himself. He pushed as slowly as his fingers had moved before, inch by inch until he was fully buried into Paul. They took a moment to just breath, adjust, then Hugh moved again.
Finding a rhythm was not difficult with how good they knew each other's bodies, and it did not take long until he had reduced every single string of words that might come out of Paul’s mouth into simple, explicit sounds.
It was not that Paul was wordy while they had sex, or particular loud, but he still was noisy, responsive. And Hugh loved the way the sounds mixed around them in the same way their bodies were joint. Paul’s hand tightened around Hugh’s as he grabbed himself, rhythm matching Hugh’s with ease. God it was a view. Paul arched back against Hugh, back up into his own grip, panting and moaning Hugh’s name over and over again. His skin was glistening with sweat, and the contrast between the colouring of their skin was as beautiful as the contrast to the stars had been.
It was the sight of Paul coming that did it for him. Back arched, head pressed back into the pillow, blush standing out starkly against his skin, cum splattered over his hand and chest. And Hugh was suddenly aware of how he was the only one allowed to see Paul like this, all undone and open, and his .
‘Darling,’ he voiced, before his orgasm washed over him.
Afterwards he waited, balanced on shaking arms, until his breathing had calmed down and he was able to perceive a little bit more than just Paul. Then he pulled out and let himself fall limp beside his partner, sluggish fumbling for the tissues on the bedside table to hand them to Paul, who took them with a grunt. He yawned, stretching his limbs and pressed himself close to the other’s side, one hand back resting on Paul’s chest, drawing loose circles.
‘I think I might get too old for this,’ Paul said. The way he sounded more regretful than complaining made Hugh laugh. He let his hand wander over Paul’s torso, gracing the new scar that stretched over his chest. A halfmoon of scar tissue that would always remind him of how close he had come to lose Paul. Would always remind him that they made it, too. It was a weird mixture of emotions that settled with the fears and hopes he already harboured and he knew it would take a while to figure out how he really felt about all of this change. Right now it was enough to feel Paul’s beating heart under his hand and the way he shuddered under Hugh’s touch.
‘Maybe,’ Hugh said, unable to keep the accusation completely out of his voice. ‘If someone would listen to his doctor more and go through the required time in the cellular regeneration chamber instead of climbing into Jefferies tubes...’
Something flickered over Paul’s face, an emotion that Hugh could not place. Something hard and hurt and slightly lost. He turned his face and looked at Hugh in a way that made Hugh’s heart hurt. Made him reach out to cup Paul’s face.
‘Hey,’ he said, carefully slow and smiled. He missed this, he realised. To be able to be there for Paul and take away his pain, to listen, to touch. Instead of being the cause for all of it. Keeping his distance… God he had been so blind.
Paul wrung his hands in front of his torso. Hugh could see the movement out of the corner of his eyes. It was a nervous gesture all frantic and uncontrolled.
‘Hey,’ Hugh said again, stroking Paul’s temple, causing him to smile and close his eyes. ‘Tell me what you are thinking, Paul.’
Paul’s eyes flickered open again, the hurt still written in them. ‘I don’t adapt well to change,’ he started. Then he frowned, not seeming happy with his own choice of words. ‘When I first injected myself with the Tardigrade-DNA most I could think about was, how stupid of an idea that was, and the look on your face when you stood up to the Captain, fighting for Ripper’s life. You’re too good for the world, Hugh. You’re just-’ He broke off, shook his head as much as it was possible, caught between the mattress and Hugh’s hand as he was. ‘Afterwards, after seeing all that beauty, being part of all that life. It was strange. Reality had shifted. In a way I… we… never could have imagined. Would not have thought possible. There was suddenly more. I was more. Felt more. Noticed more. And it made me high on endorphins and… just life, I guess. It was difficult to really grasp. How it must have looked. How you reacted to it. Still is sometimes. But I am still me. I still loved my mushrooms, and my work, and at the end of the day I still came back home to you.’ He looked at Hugh with so much raw adoration and love in his gaze, Hugh had no choice but to kiss him again. Paul smiled against Hugh’s lips, eyes closed again.
They had never really talked about what the spore drive did to Paul. There had never been the right time, never been the needed break to work through all of it and if Hugh was honest with himself, he had been scared, too, that Paul had changed too much. That he would not have understood him anymore. Not as he used to.
‘We should have talked about this,’ he said, silent.
Paul shook his head again. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s my fault, too. I’m not sure I would have wanted to. Or would have been able to.’ He paused, looked at Hugh, searching for something Hugh had no idea if he found. Hugh reached out, grabbed one of Paul’s hands and a thankful smile flashed over Paul’s face.
‘When you changed… I don’t think I behaved right. I thought - no I still think - you’re still you. You’re the man I love. Always will. Even if you’re not the same person anymore. Even if some stuff changed. Even if I have to relearn some facts about you.’ Paul raised his hand - the one that was not tangled with Hugh’s own - and drew a line over the part of Hugh’s shoulder that used to be graced by the scar. It was a strangely touching gesture, the way Paul had memorised the exact position and form, when even Hugh had sometimes difficulties to remember how it had looked on him.
‘I just,’ Paul started again. ‘don’t like uncertainties. Letting all of my life break away with the past. Making this jump… There could not be more change.’
And suddenly Hugh got it, the weird shift in mood, the reason why Paul was afraid. As a result he gripped the hand a bit tighter. ‘I’m here,’ he said. ‘I’m not gonna go anywhere. Not to earth, not to another ship. I stay right here. Where you are. And I’m going where you go. And that’s my decision. And I will tell you that as often as you need to hear it.’
Paul stared at him, relief stretching over his whole face. ‘I-’ he said, broke off, mouth fishing for words.
Hugh kissed him as a response for all the emotions neither of them could put into words.
‘I love you,’ Paul breathed into the space between their bodies and it sounded like a statement, a promise and so much more. And all Hugh could do was to smile and kiss him again.
‘Me, too, corazón,’ he said, pressing his lips to Paul’s forehead. ‘And now put some clothes on, or you will complain that you’re cold half way through the night, again.’
Paul glared at him, the way he always did when he knew that Hugh was right. Hugh grinned back at him.
‘I take it back,’ Paul exclaimed, whilst climbing out of the bed. ‘I hate you.’
‘Sure you do,’ Hugh laughed. He adjusted the sheets making himself more comfortable and watched Paul getting dressed. ‘And now hurry. Or I will grow rather lonely here.’