2/3 You Shatter like a Bomb: NC-17
It took several tries, but Sulu finally agreed to let Kirk take him out for a drink. The pilot is smarter than most people give him credit for; he probably knew right away that “a drink” meant “bottomless shot glasses until they’re both numb or the alcohol dries out.” Chekov isn’t surprised that Sulu chose today to agree, it had been a tough shift on the bridge, almost resulting in a fatal crash with an enemy ship. Their attackers had gotten away and Sulu had exited the bridge with his head hung in shame; Kirk had followed right after him with a smirk, no one but Chekov noticed.
The preparation had been quick, Kirk had instructed Chekov to meet him in his room, where he proceeded to strip the boy naked and tie his hands together over a hook that conveniently dropped from the ceiling at the captain’s command. Chekov is on his knees now, naked, unable to move and still hard from the teasing Kirk had given him before bounding off to the next phase of his Sulu seduction plan. Chekov has no idea how long they are going to be, what is going to happen when they come back or if Sulu will even agree to come back to Kirk’s room. He’s horny, alone and terrified.
It’s over an hour before Chekov hears Kirk’s voice in the hallway, loudly bellowing the words to the Starfleet anthem. His erection had flagged and disappeared a long time ago, but his teenaged body responds immediately when the door slides open and he hears Sulu’s unmistakable laughter. He freezes like a statue, growing harder and redder by the second; he suddenly doesn’t want to do this anymore, doesn’t want Sulu to see him like this, and hopes that the man will be too drunk to notice him if he remains perfectly still.
Kirk leads Sulu into the room with a hand on his back, a mischievous smirk on his face as he leers at Chekov and quirks an eyebrow at his new erection. Sulu is still stumbling around in circles and staring up at the high ceiling, making awed comments about how he’s never seen the captain’s quarters before and he never expected them to be so big.
“The bigger the better,” Kirk says, walking over to Chekov and taking his chin in hand. “isn’t that right?” Sulu frowns because the question doesn’t sound like it’s directed at him and when he looks over at Kirk he finally sees the boy, sees Chekov hard and flushed and trying to control his breathing. Sulu’s face goes blank and the door slides closed behind him, Chekov has to look away; there’s no turning back now.
“What.” Sulu says and then blinks hard as if he’s hallucinating, this only makes Chekov blush harder and stare at the ground. Sulu looks at Kirk like they’re in the same boat, like Kirk had no idea Chekov would be here and should be just as surprised to see him, but Kirk keeps smirking as he flattens Chekov’s curls with one hand. He beckons Sulu over with the other.
“C’mere, I wanna show you something.” Sulu frowns and doesn’t move for a moment, Chekov hopes he’ll leave but he doesn’t; he does as Kirk says and Chekov feels his temperature rise with every step the pilot takes. Soon Sulu and Kirk are standing side by side above him, Kirk smiling and Sulu looking drunk, confused and a bit sad. An invisible force pulls Chekov’s head up makes him look at Sulu, his face is pleading and he doesn’t even know what he wants. He wants Sulu to leave, forgive him, or just stop looking at him like he’s been betrayed. Kirk leans over and breathes into Sulu’s ear, loud enough so that Chekov can hear. “He wants you. Look at him, he’s so hard for you, he’s been waiting here all night for this.” His words send a shiver through both of them and Sulu turns his head to look at Kirk, the look on his face says that he had forgotten the other man was even there until he spoke.
Kirk bites Sulu’s ear and then his lip, reeling him in for a hard kiss that seems to answer all of Sulu’s lingering questions. The naked ensign feels a flare of arousal at the sight and lets out a whimper; Sulu breaks the kiss immediately to stare down at the boy, still looking sad. Kirk looks between the two of them, clucks his tongue and steps away, giving the back of Sulu’s knee a little kick and pushing down on his shoulder. The pilot takes the hint and falls to his knees like he’s been wounded and can’t stand anymore, never taking his eyes off of Chekov; they’re face to face now and the ensign can smell the whiskey on the other man’s breath. Emotions flicker over the pilot’s face, anger, sadness, amazement, and several counts of arousal. Kirk speaks again, louder this time.
“Go on Sulu, kiss him, don’t be shy. He’s not, he’s just putting on an innocent face for you.” Chekov hates him a little bit right now and he pleads to Sulu silently, begging him to ignore Kirk and pay attention to them, just the two of them; the way it should be. Sulu nods and it’s unclear what he’s agreeing to, but he takes the boy’s face between shaking hands and brings their mouths together. The kiss is slow at first and Chekov can’t deal with that right now, he surges forward and makes it hard, hungry, fast and Sulu matches the pace easily. It’s loud and breathless and Chekov is getting drunk off of the sounds Sulu makes and the taste of alcohol in his mouth. Sulu runs his hands down Chekov’s sides like he’s holding something back, a stop-and-go staccato that makes Chekov wish he had his hands free so he could put his arms around Sulu and calm him down. They break the kiss and Sulu looks like he’s going to cry, unacceptable, Chekov catches his mouth again and edges forward on his knees until he’s straddling Sulu’s lap, his hard-on poking into the pilot’s stomach. Sulu is warm and clothed and the feeling Chekov gets when his nipples brush against the fabric of Sulu’s shirt is almost too much to bear. The older man wraps both arms around Chekov’s torso and hugs him tightly, burying his face in the boy’s neck and spreading wet kisses on the skin there. Chekov wants to whisper encouragements in Sulu’s ear, wants to beg him, tighter, squeeze me until I’m nothing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… but he can’t do it, his mouth won’t cooperate and all that comes out is a desperate, sobbing moan.
Kirk is nearby, sitting naked on a chair not unlike his captain’s chair on the bridge, he’s lazily stroking himself with a drunken grin on his face. Chekov hates him, hates him for setting this up, hates him for making it mean nothing, hates him for all the things he does that Chekov wants and needs. He hates and loves the way Sulu is holding him, like he’s rescuing him, like Chekov is a young, innocent thing being taken advantage of by the captain and Chekov hates Kirk again for letting him believe it. When Chekov kisses him again, writhes against the firm body beneath him and Sulu pulls back, looking at him like he’s the most beautiful, amazing thing in the world, Chekov hates himself for not deserving it.
“Pavel… God, Pavel…” Sulu moans, and suddenly grinding and kissing aren’t enough. Chekov doesn’t have his hands, so he bites at Sulu’s shirt, desperately tugging it away from his body until the older man gets the point and shifts back enough to undress. Chekov whines at the loss of contact, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. Seconds later, there is skin pressed against his skin and he’s terrified that he’ll open his eyes and see Kirk, that this will all have been a dream, until he feels two arms sneak around his chest and cross on his back. The gesture is so gentle, so tentative and comforting that Pavel knows it’s not Kirk, and he peeks through his eyelids to see Sulu. They crawl closer together and Chekov wraps his legs around the other man’s waist, pulling him closer, pushing him away, he’s a pinwheel of conflicting emotions and needs, stopping and spinning at all the wrong times.
Something comes whizzing through the air, hits Sulu in the arm and bounces to the floor. Kirk had thrown a bottle of lube and is sitting in his chair, still stroking himself and laughing with his eyes. They both glare at him for different reasons, he’s teasing them, he thinks this is funny, he doesn’t get it. Sulu picks up the bottle and looks at Chekov who nods encouragingly, they’ve come so far and both of them need this more than anyone else knows. Sulu’s cock is slicked in no time at all and he reaches back to press a finger into Pavel’s tight hole. Kirk did a quick job of preparing him earlier but he isn’t quite ready for what Sulu is packing and rocks himself back against the fingers, moaning as he clenches his fists against the ropes.
Sulu looks dazed, drunk and in love as he stretches Pavel, he works his fingers into a rhythm, seeming to forget about his cock completely in order to just watch the boy lose it. Chekov digs his heels into Sulu’s back and speaks for the first time, his voice hoarse and desperate.
“Hikaru, please! I need you!” And he means it. He needs Sulu to stop looking at him like that, wants to slap him across the face and scream that he isn’t the person Sulu thinks he is. The older man grips him by the hips and hauls him up, Chekov pulls against his ropes to help and soon he’s sinking down, impaling himself on the other man’s thick cock. And then he’s there, inside Pavel, like he’s always wanted him to be; but it’s all wrong. Pavel lets out a sob of a moan and his eyes are leaking, he turns his head up to the ceiling, refusing to let Kirk or Sulu see him cry. “F-fuck me-god dammit, fuck me!” He moans, his voice cracking and betraying his dismay. Sulu nods frantically and starts moving, still holding Chekov’s hips and looking down to watch their coupling. Chekov keens with every thrust of Sulu’s cock hah, hah, ahhhh, hah, lost in the ecstasy, trying not to think about how he’s going to face the other man in the morning, or how this is probably the last time they’ll ever do this. Sulu is too good a man, he wouldn’t be able to use Chekov the way Kirk does, and he wouldn’t be able to touch Pavel again knowing the sorts of things the boy does with the captain. Sulu’s cock touches that electric place inside him and everything is simultaneously perfect and ruined.
Sulu is too far gone to remember to touch Pavel’s cock, but the ensign knows it won’t take much; he tilts his hips forward on the up strokes, rubbing his cock against Sulu’s stomach as best he can. When he comes, it is with Hikaru’s name on his lips, and the pilot follows close behind, spilling into Chekov with abandon. There is a moment when their orgasms overlap, and they stare at each other in wonder, mouths open, like they’ve just noticed something that was right before their eyes the whole time. Chekov catches himself in a lie and has to break the eye contact; when he does, Sulu seems to snap out of his trance as well and goes back to frowning as his eyes remember the room and Kirk. The older man has his head lowered like he had on the bridge earlier that day, he can’t look at Chekov and this makes the boy want to die. He kicks away from Sulu, dislodging himself roughly and painfully and sags as much as the ropes and hook will allow. He doesn’t watch as Sulu stands up, stammering something quiet and defeated, doesn’t watch the older man pull his clothes back on and run out of the room, almost taking out his shoulder on the door.
Kirk gets up from the chair and stretches, clapping his hands together like they’re dusty and walking over to Chekov. He places a hand on the boy’s head and Chekov can hear his smile.
“Well that was fun!” He says cheerfully, “Too bad he had to leave so early or we could have-” He stops, looking down and seeing the wetness on Chekov’s face. “Hey…” He breaks character, kneels and places a hand on the boy’s cheek, feeling the tears. “What?” He isn’t the smirking sex fiend anymore, he’s Jim, and he sounds worried.
“Get me down.” Pavel says, his voice hard and shaking. Jim wastes no time, untying Chekov’s hands and sending the hook back up, the game forgotten. The boy collapses to the floor in a shivering mess and the captain collects him up in his arms. Chekov tries to push himself away, hating Kirk, hating everything, but he doesn’t have the strength. Jim’s face is a mixture of confusion and anger as he carries Chekov to the bed and lays him down like he has done so many times before; this only makes Chekov cry harder, the night is ending the same way every night does, nothing has changed, nothing was real. The older man kneels beside the mattress, looking at Chekov with serious concern and regret.
“You…” Chekov glares at him through tears and comprehension dawns on the captain’s face. “Oh, Pavel.” Chekov tries to stay angry but he can’t, his face crumples and he gives in to the crying completely. His frame shakes with it and Jim doesn’t move, afraid that he’ll arouse Chekov’s anger again, until the boy reaches for him, needing human contact. Jim lines himself up next to Chekov and wraps his arms around him, chaste and comforting, something they’ve never done before; Pavel sobs into him, pulls at his uniform, beats on his chest with his fists and Jim just holds him, occasionally petting his hair. They fall asleep like that, Chekov sobbing quietly and Jim hating himself for it.
He gives Chekov the day off, Sulu refuses to look at him and to top it all off he’s got a hangover the likes of which he can’t ever remember having. They perform terribly that day, and the day after. Several people corner him to ask what’s going on and he simply nods and says he’s working on it.
Jim fucked up, he fucked up really bad. He knows it, and he’s going to fix it.