swollen with nectar, i trust?
So, hey -- it seems I somehow filled one of the st_xi_kink prompts.
propagation techniques
sulu/chekov, nc-17, dubcon, mind control, kooky plants
"Away mission, Sulu gets sex pollen'd, takes it out on virgin!Chekov. Later Sulu goes to Chekov to apologize. Angst and comfort sex ensues. Bonus points if Chekov discovers he likes it rough."
The flower that looked like a hubcap with bright turquoise feathers swivelled slowly in his direction, and Sulu tried his best not to glare belligerently back because the thing was looking at him. "What's the deal with this native flora?" he muttered, not taking his eyes off the thing. There was something sneaky about it, if a feathery flower could be sneaky.
"mmmm." Chekov was distracted by his tricorder. "Mmm, ah ... the plant life on this planet has a limited sentience due to a heightened need for reproductive capacity." He finished his readings and looked up, eyes bright, and Sulu prepared himself for the chirpy barrage of information that would surely follow: "It seems that the Dhobuvi exiles, being an agricultural people, were determined to make something grow here even with poor soil conditions and all chalk deposits in the ground --"
"Good for them," Sulu said tightly. The blue flower was starting to seem bored, though, so he relaxed a little on monitoring it.
"Indeed!" Chekov agreed. "So they engineered this plants with super-aggressive tendencies. Not when it comes to self-protection because there are no natural enemies in this environment, but they are ..." he paused, then said with slightly more relish than Sulu would have expected, "they are relentless when it comes to propagation. It is a matter of survival." Chekov grinned. "Admirable, da?"
Sulu was about to tell Chekov what he thought of sexually hyperactive disco plants that reminded him of their captain when the blue thing hauled back and then gobbed a long, sticky jet of sparkle-flecked goo directly into his face. "Don't touch it!!" Chekov yelped, but when a plant jizzes in your face it's hard to keep from trying to get the stuff out of your nose and mouth and Sulu had his fingers in it before Chekov had even finished his warning. There were glittery pink-and-silver bits in the gum that scraped his skin as he attempted to clear it away, slinging fingerfuls across all the other stupid delighted-looking flowers until he could finally breathe again.
Chekov swooped in to sternly bat his hands away, waving his tricorder over Sulu's tingly, scraped-up face before tearing open a packet of sterile medical wipes and announcing, "Might sting a little," before he pressed one of the alcohol-soaked gauzes to Sulu's cheekbone. Naturally this meant it stung a lot. Sulu didn't have time to worry about that, however, because he was suddenly and urgently interested in the way that Pavel's mouth looked, skewing to one side as he concentrated on cleaning the scratches. He started feeling quarrels of heat bolting up through his body as Pavel let his tricorder hang and used that hand to tilt Sulu's chin from angle to angle, fingers warm and hard at the tips. He felt himself get hard as Pavel tore open another gauze packet with his sharp little teeth and applied it with more vigour to the scratchy sticky smears on Sulu's skin.
It was only when Chekov made a startled noise that Sulu realized he'd grabbed the ensign by the hips, one hand moving quickly to the small of Chekov's back to press their bodies together so he could grind his cock against Pavel's thigh. "Hikaru," Chekov said unsurely , then his eyes went abruptly more focused and clear. "The pollen," he exclaimed. "It's the pollen! It's acting on you! But this is extraordinary!" He started groping for his tricorder, voice intrigued as he inspected Sulu's face. "I would not have thought that plant pollen would have any effect at all on a humanoid --"
It was hard to care about Chekov's academic orgasms to begin with, and right now Sulu was beyond his usual ability to nod patiently and wait for him to get tired of talking. He was feeling hot desire streaking all over him like broad paint stripes, rushing up his belly and chest and throat, and he heard himself growl when he slapped Chekov's tricorder away and leaned in to swipe his tongue over Pavel's slightly open mouth. The introduction of all that wet, sweet heat made his insides go haywire at once, every nerve ending standing at attention, and Sulu grabbed a handful of curls at the back of Pavel's head and kissed him harder, deeper, sucking in the half-hearted noises of professional protest.
Chekov shifted one arm and Sulu effortlessly adjusted his body weight to block the prescribed self-defense gambit that every Starfleet officer learned, vicing down on Chekov's wrist and twisting his arm behind him. This had the added and very pleasurable effect of pushing Pavel closer up against him, and resolved somewhere in the back of his head to teach Pavel his own modifications of basic Starfleet hand-to-hand (that made the moves less of a tell) while simultaneously being glad that he could see all of Pavel's attempts coming. Pavel bit open the corner of Sulu's lip then, sharp, and shoved at him with his similarly-sharp shoulder, and the next thing Sulu knew he was bearing Pavel down hard to the bright chartreuse grass.
"Mister Sulu," Chekov snapped, winded but kicking. "You are not yourself! This is not acceptable behaviour for a Starfleet officer! You will face severe consequences for this action if you do not stop immediately!" The words made sense but Sulu couldn't get them to mean anything at the moment, especially with Chekov under him bucking with each struggle and kick. He drew in a huge, grasping breath -- this lust inside him was making it hard to breathe, filling up his lungs with red spider roots of want want want -- and put his hand to Chekov's throat. Pavel went quiet, visibly calming his breathing to drawn-out shallow sips as Sulu's thumb dug in, and then he blinked slowly and let his head tip back, body draining of its tense resistance.
Sulu rolled him over and scrabbled their clothes out of the way, fingers and calf muscles and stomach cramping and burning, and when he finally, oh finally pushed in it was like all of the fire collected in his body and burst into flame. Pavel's eyes were scrunched shut, his mouth in a determined line, and if he made any noises as Sulu collected his hips closer and started moving with driving force they were lost under the sound of their bodies connecting and Sulu's own ceaseless hoarse panting. His body was on a pace of its own, set to a rhythm dictated by the voracious sex drive of this whole fucking planet, and Sulu's fingers dug into Chekov's skin as Pavel's fingers curled and sprawled in that unbelievable grass.
Desire crested through him like a great wave, crushing the wreckage of his control and loosening his joints to compel a battery of fluidly devouring thrusts; the hunger rose and rose and Chekov's body was so pliant and hot inside and Sulu could feel the end coming, and he wanted it and was terrified at the same time and now Chekov's mouth was open, dragging dark pink against the lemon-green grass and when Sulu came, it was with a shout that tore his throat raw and he felt all of his bones dissolve into molten-gold oil before he mercifully passed out.
...
He woke up in Sickbay with his face abraded and sore, a persistent ache through his muscles, and what seemed to be a cracked back molar. To say nothing of the overwhelming guilt that spiked in his gut, making his jaw clench in a way that suddenly and agonizingly explained the cracked back molar.
McCoy loomed up out of the semi-darkness like a pirate ship. "Welcome back," he said, peremptorily running a scanner along the length of Sulu's body. His face was careful and broadly blank, eyes shuttered, and Sulu wondered what that meant. "Do you --" he started, hesitant, and McCoy cut him off, "Let's see if we can get that fractured tooth seen to."
Sulu sank back on the bed as McCoy went to talk to a technician, head swimming with self-recrimination. Obviously McCoy knew. They would've had to treat Chekov, too, and it would've been obvious what happened. In fact, it was good in a way. Yes, Sulu resolutely decided, it was exactly right. As soon as he was discharged from Sickbay, he'd go to the captain and make a complete report, and take any punishment deemed appropriate. It was the only honourable way to deal with this.
When McCoy returned with the dental tools, he set them up and then said, "We'd better tell Chekov you're awake. He keeps pestering me every ten minutes -- they're clearly not giving the boy genius enough work to do up on the bridge."
"No," Sulu said. McCoy looked at him, that awful flat look, and Sulu said, "I ... there's something I need to do first. I'll find him myself." The doctor looked at him a full minute longer without saying anything, then sighed and nodded. "Open up," he ordered.
...
Captain Kirk sat him down and looked very concerned and Sulu felt a tiny bit bad about comparing him to evil rapacious disco flowers. "I don't have to tell you that Ensign Chekov already spoke with me," he began. "This is a really delicate situation, Sulu."
"I know, sir." Sulu knotted his fingers together to keep from tapping on the table or shredding his knees. "And I am ready to accept any reprimand, sir, any punishment that you hand down. I acted in a manner completely in opposition of the conduct code and even worse ...." he stopped hard, exhaled. "In a manner completely reprehensible on a personal level."
"Noted," Kirk said. He leaned across the table, folding his hands. His voice was measured and deliberate when he said, "Chekov doesn't want any disciplinary action taken."
Sulu's fingers jerked in their knot. "What?" His voice came out louder than he meant it to, something he hated, and although the astonishment and anger in it sounded bad to him Kirk leaned back with something like satisfaction on his face. He spread his hands and shrugged.
"I tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent," Kirk explained. "Said he'd already been to ship's counsellor so this wasn't a traumatic response, said he'd made a situational decision that he thought was appropriate, said he considered this not to be assault with intent because you were under the influence of alien stimulants." Kirk nodded at Sulu's stricken look. "I know, I know, but I think he got Spock to help him draft his case and I gotta say, it was pretty convincing."
"Convincing or not, sir," Sulu managed to say, "I -- I hurt him." His throat ached just saying it.
Kirk sighed. "Doctor McCoy says Chekov's okay," he told Sulu gently. "And Bones isn't one to euphemize, especially not about the important stuff." He paused, then added, "you might want to go see the counsellor yourself. Chekov thought that you were aware of what was happening, but you weren't in control of your ... well, to be honest, what he said was kind of confusing, something about a rowboat? Or something?"
"Robot," Sulu clarified, smiling despite himself. "He meant I was like a robot."
"Ahhh," Kirk drawled. "Shit, sorry. But you should consider it anyway. And since I agree with Chekov's and McCoy's assessments of the situation, there won't be any disciplinary measures."
The bottom dropped out of Sulu's stomach. He stood, ignoring Kirk's raised eyebrows, and said through gritted teeth, "Sir, I respectfully insist that some sort of punitive action be taken to address my violent behaviour toward a fellow officer. Regardless of Ensign Chekov's report, an assault did occur and to ignore that would be both unethical and criminal."
"Mister Sulu," Kirk said. His voice was noticeably firmer even though his posture was still relaxed. "I have considered the matter deeply, and as Ensign Chekov was ostensibly the party with grounds for complaint as well as the sole officer present who was in complete control of his faculties, his report is the one I will be favouring. These events will be noted in your personnel file and no disciplinary action will be pursued."
Sulu took a moment to gather himself before answering, prodding his tongue against that fractured molar until it protested with a jolt of pain that cleared through the resentful confusion. He folded his hands behind his back. "Understood, Captain," he said.
The door had barely swished shut behind him before Sulu was steering toward Chekov's quarters, heels hitting hard and then picking up speed until they were pounding as loud as his thumping, fevered head.
...
Pavel let him in with nothing more than a mumbled hello, which made Sulu even madder; he stationed himself by the door and waited until Chekov sat back down at his desk console and looked expectantly at him.
"I already know you asked the captain not to do anything," Sulu said. "And I'm sure you made a great case for it. But we both know what actually happened, Pavel, and I need to tell you that I will do anything, anything to make it up to you. I mean --" Sulu stopped, swallowed, dug his nails into his palm, "-- I mean nothing can really make up for it, but ...." He couldn't say anything else. It all sounded so banal and empty, especially with Pavel sitting there looking at him as if it had been a routine scouting mission and not gone horribly wrong. Sulu sagged against the doorway.
"Hikaru," Pavel said. "I meant every word I told to Captain and to Doctor McCoy and to Doctor Twose -- ship counsellor, very smart woman -- and I mean it when I tell you now: I do not blame you for what happened." He started to get up, hesitated, and then stood up with more intent and came over to grasp Sulu's arm. "You didn't hurt me," he said, ignoring it when Sulu flinched. "I made sure you didn't."
"That doesn't make it any better," Sulu mumbled. Pavel's mouth skewed off to the side and he gravely said, "Then I must try something else," and then he was kissing Sulu, pushing him hard against the wall so he couldn't duck away, sucking at the torn corner of Sulu's lip. But even though his skin was still raw from the glitter, the effect of the pollen had worn off, and Sulu had enough presence of mind to shove Pavel off him, desperately conflicted to find them both hard and breathing heavily. "I can't," he managed. "Pavel, after what I did ...."
Pavel licked his lips and moved in again, sleek and fast, smacking his hands against Sulu's shoulders and using that momentum to slam him back to the wall. He pushed his nose up against Sulu's chin, breath hot as he traced his way up, his bottom lip catching against Sulu's top one.
"Make it up to me," Pavel murmured, then, "make me."
Sulu grabbed Chekov and spun them around so Pavel was the one backed up against the wall, body curving eagerly into the pressure as Sulu leaned into him. "Worst part," Pavel said, "was you not being in control of it."
Hikaru was taken aback. "That was the worst part?" he asked. Pavel dropped little kisses all over his face, hot-cold flicks of his tongue over abraded skin as he attempted to climb Sulu, and said matter-of-factly, "You are used to being in control, da? Over ships, over yourself. Over everything." He wrapped his arms around Sulu's neck and eyed him consideringly. "Perhaps over me," he purred.
"That," Sulu said, "is a hell of a proposal." He held Pavel's hips to hoist him up and Chekov hissed; Sulu belatedly remembered the bruises his fingers had left there but Chekov was twisting under his hands now, eyes suddenly swallowed up with hot hungry black. "You like that," Sulu said, close enough to feel Chekov's rapid breath on his face, and Chekov nodded, curls tangling with Sulu's hair.
"The pollen," he said. His hands opened up Sulu's pants, stroked his cock firm and sure. "It made you want to propagate, but it made you do it --" he wriggled, shifted so Hikaru could strip his clothes off, "-- the way that would work for me." Sulu held still, digesting those words, thought back:
-- pavel's mouth, pink and wet and open as it dragged along the bright chartreuse grass; his narrow hips rocking with sulu's thrusts, the languid clench and sprawl of his fingers in time with each deep lunge forward --
... and just leaned forward for a bit, trying to reconcile this new information with his guilt-ridden memories. "I am not ashamed of what I want," Pavel explained, busily lining their cocks up and wrapping his hands around them both. "I worked it all to the out with Doctor Twose. But what .. mmmm, da, yes ... what worried me was that you would not have wanted it." Chekov's words were self-possessed enough, but there was a teensy note of unsureness there.
Sulu took a deep breath and then moved away, turning Pavel around in the same motion and pushing his face against the wall. He lined up and thrust forward, savouring the rippling burn and Chekov's choked moan of response, soaked in desire; his cock was in deep, so deep, and Pavel was pressing impossibly back to take more of it in, rubbing his head against Sulu's face like a cat.
"I want it," Hikaru told him. "But you talk too much." He slid almost out and then back in again hard, Pavel opening up for him with dizzying wantonness, the force and tempo of Sulu fucking him finally erasing all his endless words. Instead there was formless begging, a stream of pleading sound urging Sulu faster, harder, deeper, Chekov's hands clawing the wall or reaching blindly behind him for Sulu's hips, hair, arm. The feeling was everything and nothing like before, just as brutal and raw but with Pavel a whirlwind of responses. Hikaru wanted to keep doing this forever, buried inside Chekov's eager body like this, and when he moved one hand down to grasp Chekov's cock he only tugged twice, three times before Pavel was yowling and arching back against him with sticky come splattering Sulu's fingers.
He was fully conscious for it this time, his own release building and somersaulting, body racing to orgasm even as Pavel squirmed and stretched to accommodate him. "Keep fucking me," Pavel moaned, and damned if that didn't get him there like a bullet train, ragged groans as he plastered himself against Chekov's back and came inside him, silken-hot tightness and starlight popping in the corners of his vision.
His knees wanted badly to buckle but Sulu maintained, wrapping his arms around Chekov as the sweat cooled and their breathing recovered, moving gingerly to the bunk to lie on their backs with their shoulders overlapping. Pavel yawned, jaw cracking, and turned to snuggle against Hikaru's chest.
"I am hoping you feel better now," he said, scraping his teeth along Sulu's collarbone, "that you know the truth." Hikaru curled his hand over Pavel's head, poking his index finger through a damp curl.
"Better," he agreed drowsily. Pavel bit down harder to convey his pleasure, and then promptly dozed off; Sulu stayed like that for a while, listening to him breathe, before following him down into welcome, pillowy sleep.
... man, it feels like I haven't written fic in forever. Oh, blush of a new fandom, how long it's been!!
This entry was originally posted at http://bossymarmalade.dreamwidth.org/472251.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
propagation techniques
sulu/chekov, nc-17, dubcon, mind control, kooky plants
"Away mission, Sulu gets sex pollen'd, takes it out on virgin!Chekov. Later Sulu goes to Chekov to apologize. Angst and comfort sex ensues. Bonus points if Chekov discovers he likes it rough."
The flower that looked like a hubcap with bright turquoise feathers swivelled slowly in his direction, and Sulu tried his best not to glare belligerently back because the thing was looking at him. "What's the deal with this native flora?" he muttered, not taking his eyes off the thing. There was something sneaky about it, if a feathery flower could be sneaky.
"mmmm." Chekov was distracted by his tricorder. "Mmm, ah ... the plant life on this planet has a limited sentience due to a heightened need for reproductive capacity." He finished his readings and looked up, eyes bright, and Sulu prepared himself for the chirpy barrage of information that would surely follow: "It seems that the Dhobuvi exiles, being an agricultural people, were determined to make something grow here even with poor soil conditions and all chalk deposits in the ground --"
"Good for them," Sulu said tightly. The blue flower was starting to seem bored, though, so he relaxed a little on monitoring it.
"Indeed!" Chekov agreed. "So they engineered this plants with super-aggressive tendencies. Not when it comes to self-protection because there are no natural enemies in this environment, but they are ..." he paused, then said with slightly more relish than Sulu would have expected, "they are relentless when it comes to propagation. It is a matter of survival." Chekov grinned. "Admirable, da?"
Sulu was about to tell Chekov what he thought of sexually hyperactive disco plants that reminded him of their captain when the blue thing hauled back and then gobbed a long, sticky jet of sparkle-flecked goo directly into his face. "Don't touch it!!" Chekov yelped, but when a plant jizzes in your face it's hard to keep from trying to get the stuff out of your nose and mouth and Sulu had his fingers in it before Chekov had even finished his warning. There were glittery pink-and-silver bits in the gum that scraped his skin as he attempted to clear it away, slinging fingerfuls across all the other stupid delighted-looking flowers until he could finally breathe again.
Chekov swooped in to sternly bat his hands away, waving his tricorder over Sulu's tingly, scraped-up face before tearing open a packet of sterile medical wipes and announcing, "Might sting a little," before he pressed one of the alcohol-soaked gauzes to Sulu's cheekbone. Naturally this meant it stung a lot. Sulu didn't have time to worry about that, however, because he was suddenly and urgently interested in the way that Pavel's mouth looked, skewing to one side as he concentrated on cleaning the scratches. He started feeling quarrels of heat bolting up through his body as Pavel let his tricorder hang and used that hand to tilt Sulu's chin from angle to angle, fingers warm and hard at the tips. He felt himself get hard as Pavel tore open another gauze packet with his sharp little teeth and applied it with more vigour to the scratchy sticky smears on Sulu's skin.
It was only when Chekov made a startled noise that Sulu realized he'd grabbed the ensign by the hips, one hand moving quickly to the small of Chekov's back to press their bodies together so he could grind his cock against Pavel's thigh. "Hikaru," Chekov said unsurely , then his eyes went abruptly more focused and clear. "The pollen," he exclaimed. "It's the pollen! It's acting on you! But this is extraordinary!" He started groping for his tricorder, voice intrigued as he inspected Sulu's face. "I would not have thought that plant pollen would have any effect at all on a humanoid --"
It was hard to care about Chekov's academic orgasms to begin with, and right now Sulu was beyond his usual ability to nod patiently and wait for him to get tired of talking. He was feeling hot desire streaking all over him like broad paint stripes, rushing up his belly and chest and throat, and he heard himself growl when he slapped Chekov's tricorder away and leaned in to swipe his tongue over Pavel's slightly open mouth. The introduction of all that wet, sweet heat made his insides go haywire at once, every nerve ending standing at attention, and Sulu grabbed a handful of curls at the back of Pavel's head and kissed him harder, deeper, sucking in the half-hearted noises of professional protest.
Chekov shifted one arm and Sulu effortlessly adjusted his body weight to block the prescribed self-defense gambit that every Starfleet officer learned, vicing down on Chekov's wrist and twisting his arm behind him. This had the added and very pleasurable effect of pushing Pavel closer up against him, and resolved somewhere in the back of his head to teach Pavel his own modifications of basic Starfleet hand-to-hand (that made the moves less of a tell) while simultaneously being glad that he could see all of Pavel's attempts coming. Pavel bit open the corner of Sulu's lip then, sharp, and shoved at him with his similarly-sharp shoulder, and the next thing Sulu knew he was bearing Pavel down hard to the bright chartreuse grass.
"Mister Sulu," Chekov snapped, winded but kicking. "You are not yourself! This is not acceptable behaviour for a Starfleet officer! You will face severe consequences for this action if you do not stop immediately!" The words made sense but Sulu couldn't get them to mean anything at the moment, especially with Chekov under him bucking with each struggle and kick. He drew in a huge, grasping breath -- this lust inside him was making it hard to breathe, filling up his lungs with red spider roots of want want want -- and put his hand to Chekov's throat. Pavel went quiet, visibly calming his breathing to drawn-out shallow sips as Sulu's thumb dug in, and then he blinked slowly and let his head tip back, body draining of its tense resistance.
Sulu rolled him over and scrabbled their clothes out of the way, fingers and calf muscles and stomach cramping and burning, and when he finally, oh finally pushed in it was like all of the fire collected in his body and burst into flame. Pavel's eyes were scrunched shut, his mouth in a determined line, and if he made any noises as Sulu collected his hips closer and started moving with driving force they were lost under the sound of their bodies connecting and Sulu's own ceaseless hoarse panting. His body was on a pace of its own, set to a rhythm dictated by the voracious sex drive of this whole fucking planet, and Sulu's fingers dug into Chekov's skin as Pavel's fingers curled and sprawled in that unbelievable grass.
Desire crested through him like a great wave, crushing the wreckage of his control and loosening his joints to compel a battery of fluidly devouring thrusts; the hunger rose and rose and Chekov's body was so pliant and hot inside and Sulu could feel the end coming, and he wanted it and was terrified at the same time and now Chekov's mouth was open, dragging dark pink against the lemon-green grass and when Sulu came, it was with a shout that tore his throat raw and he felt all of his bones dissolve into molten-gold oil before he mercifully passed out.
...
He woke up in Sickbay with his face abraded and sore, a persistent ache through his muscles, and what seemed to be a cracked back molar. To say nothing of the overwhelming guilt that spiked in his gut, making his jaw clench in a way that suddenly and agonizingly explained the cracked back molar.
McCoy loomed up out of the semi-darkness like a pirate ship. "Welcome back," he said, peremptorily running a scanner along the length of Sulu's body. His face was careful and broadly blank, eyes shuttered, and Sulu wondered what that meant. "Do you --" he started, hesitant, and McCoy cut him off, "Let's see if we can get that fractured tooth seen to."
Sulu sank back on the bed as McCoy went to talk to a technician, head swimming with self-recrimination. Obviously McCoy knew. They would've had to treat Chekov, too, and it would've been obvious what happened. In fact, it was good in a way. Yes, Sulu resolutely decided, it was exactly right. As soon as he was discharged from Sickbay, he'd go to the captain and make a complete report, and take any punishment deemed appropriate. It was the only honourable way to deal with this.
When McCoy returned with the dental tools, he set them up and then said, "We'd better tell Chekov you're awake. He keeps pestering me every ten minutes -- they're clearly not giving the boy genius enough work to do up on the bridge."
"No," Sulu said. McCoy looked at him, that awful flat look, and Sulu said, "I ... there's something I need to do first. I'll find him myself." The doctor looked at him a full minute longer without saying anything, then sighed and nodded. "Open up," he ordered.
...
Captain Kirk sat him down and looked very concerned and Sulu felt a tiny bit bad about comparing him to evil rapacious disco flowers. "I don't have to tell you that Ensign Chekov already spoke with me," he began. "This is a really delicate situation, Sulu."
"I know, sir." Sulu knotted his fingers together to keep from tapping on the table or shredding his knees. "And I am ready to accept any reprimand, sir, any punishment that you hand down. I acted in a manner completely in opposition of the conduct code and even worse ...." he stopped hard, exhaled. "In a manner completely reprehensible on a personal level."
"Noted," Kirk said. He leaned across the table, folding his hands. His voice was measured and deliberate when he said, "Chekov doesn't want any disciplinary action taken."
Sulu's fingers jerked in their knot. "What?" His voice came out louder than he meant it to, something he hated, and although the astonishment and anger in it sounded bad to him Kirk leaned back with something like satisfaction on his face. He spread his hands and shrugged.
"I tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent," Kirk explained. "Said he'd already been to ship's counsellor so this wasn't a traumatic response, said he'd made a situational decision that he thought was appropriate, said he considered this not to be assault with intent because you were under the influence of alien stimulants." Kirk nodded at Sulu's stricken look. "I know, I know, but I think he got Spock to help him draft his case and I gotta say, it was pretty convincing."
"Convincing or not, sir," Sulu managed to say, "I -- I hurt him." His throat ached just saying it.
Kirk sighed. "Doctor McCoy says Chekov's okay," he told Sulu gently. "And Bones isn't one to euphemize, especially not about the important stuff." He paused, then added, "you might want to go see the counsellor yourself. Chekov thought that you were aware of what was happening, but you weren't in control of your ... well, to be honest, what he said was kind of confusing, something about a rowboat? Or something?"
"Robot," Sulu clarified, smiling despite himself. "He meant I was like a robot."
"Ahhh," Kirk drawled. "Shit, sorry. But you should consider it anyway. And since I agree with Chekov's and McCoy's assessments of the situation, there won't be any disciplinary measures."
The bottom dropped out of Sulu's stomach. He stood, ignoring Kirk's raised eyebrows, and said through gritted teeth, "Sir, I respectfully insist that some sort of punitive action be taken to address my violent behaviour toward a fellow officer. Regardless of Ensign Chekov's report, an assault did occur and to ignore that would be both unethical and criminal."
"Mister Sulu," Kirk said. His voice was noticeably firmer even though his posture was still relaxed. "I have considered the matter deeply, and as Ensign Chekov was ostensibly the party with grounds for complaint as well as the sole officer present who was in complete control of his faculties, his report is the one I will be favouring. These events will be noted in your personnel file and no disciplinary action will be pursued."
Sulu took a moment to gather himself before answering, prodding his tongue against that fractured molar until it protested with a jolt of pain that cleared through the resentful confusion. He folded his hands behind his back. "Understood, Captain," he said.
The door had barely swished shut behind him before Sulu was steering toward Chekov's quarters, heels hitting hard and then picking up speed until they were pounding as loud as his thumping, fevered head.
...
Pavel let him in with nothing more than a mumbled hello, which made Sulu even madder; he stationed himself by the door and waited until Chekov sat back down at his desk console and looked expectantly at him.
"I already know you asked the captain not to do anything," Sulu said. "And I'm sure you made a great case for it. But we both know what actually happened, Pavel, and I need to tell you that I will do anything, anything to make it up to you. I mean --" Sulu stopped, swallowed, dug his nails into his palm, "-- I mean nothing can really make up for it, but ...." He couldn't say anything else. It all sounded so banal and empty, especially with Pavel sitting there looking at him as if it had been a routine scouting mission and not gone horribly wrong. Sulu sagged against the doorway.
"Hikaru," Pavel said. "I meant every word I told to Captain and to Doctor McCoy and to Doctor Twose -- ship counsellor, very smart woman -- and I mean it when I tell you now: I do not blame you for what happened." He started to get up, hesitated, and then stood up with more intent and came over to grasp Sulu's arm. "You didn't hurt me," he said, ignoring it when Sulu flinched. "I made sure you didn't."
"That doesn't make it any better," Sulu mumbled. Pavel's mouth skewed off to the side and he gravely said, "Then I must try something else," and then he was kissing Sulu, pushing him hard against the wall so he couldn't duck away, sucking at the torn corner of Sulu's lip. But even though his skin was still raw from the glitter, the effect of the pollen had worn off, and Sulu had enough presence of mind to shove Pavel off him, desperately conflicted to find them both hard and breathing heavily. "I can't," he managed. "Pavel, after what I did ...."
Pavel licked his lips and moved in again, sleek and fast, smacking his hands against Sulu's shoulders and using that momentum to slam him back to the wall. He pushed his nose up against Sulu's chin, breath hot as he traced his way up, his bottom lip catching against Sulu's top one.
"Make it up to me," Pavel murmured, then, "make me."
Sulu grabbed Chekov and spun them around so Pavel was the one backed up against the wall, body curving eagerly into the pressure as Sulu leaned into him. "Worst part," Pavel said, "was you not being in control of it."
Hikaru was taken aback. "That was the worst part?" he asked. Pavel dropped little kisses all over his face, hot-cold flicks of his tongue over abraded skin as he attempted to climb Sulu, and said matter-of-factly, "You are used to being in control, da? Over ships, over yourself. Over everything." He wrapped his arms around Sulu's neck and eyed him consideringly. "Perhaps over me," he purred.
"That," Sulu said, "is a hell of a proposal." He held Pavel's hips to hoist him up and Chekov hissed; Sulu belatedly remembered the bruises his fingers had left there but Chekov was twisting under his hands now, eyes suddenly swallowed up with hot hungry black. "You like that," Sulu said, close enough to feel Chekov's rapid breath on his face, and Chekov nodded, curls tangling with Sulu's hair.
"The pollen," he said. His hands opened up Sulu's pants, stroked his cock firm and sure. "It made you want to propagate, but it made you do it --" he wriggled, shifted so Hikaru could strip his clothes off, "-- the way that would work for me." Sulu held still, digesting those words, thought back:
-- pavel's mouth, pink and wet and open as it dragged along the bright chartreuse grass; his narrow hips rocking with sulu's thrusts, the languid clench and sprawl of his fingers in time with each deep lunge forward --
... and just leaned forward for a bit, trying to reconcile this new information with his guilt-ridden memories. "I am not ashamed of what I want," Pavel explained, busily lining their cocks up and wrapping his hands around them both. "I worked it all to the out with Doctor Twose. But what .. mmmm, da, yes ... what worried me was that you would not have wanted it." Chekov's words were self-possessed enough, but there was a teensy note of unsureness there.
Sulu took a deep breath and then moved away, turning Pavel around in the same motion and pushing his face against the wall. He lined up and thrust forward, savouring the rippling burn and Chekov's choked moan of response, soaked in desire; his cock was in deep, so deep, and Pavel was pressing impossibly back to take more of it in, rubbing his head against Sulu's face like a cat.
"I want it," Hikaru told him. "But you talk too much." He slid almost out and then back in again hard, Pavel opening up for him with dizzying wantonness, the force and tempo of Sulu fucking him finally erasing all his endless words. Instead there was formless begging, a stream of pleading sound urging Sulu faster, harder, deeper, Chekov's hands clawing the wall or reaching blindly behind him for Sulu's hips, hair, arm. The feeling was everything and nothing like before, just as brutal and raw but with Pavel a whirlwind of responses. Hikaru wanted to keep doing this forever, buried inside Chekov's eager body like this, and when he moved one hand down to grasp Chekov's cock he only tugged twice, three times before Pavel was yowling and arching back against him with sticky come splattering Sulu's fingers.
He was fully conscious for it this time, his own release building and somersaulting, body racing to orgasm even as Pavel squirmed and stretched to accommodate him. "Keep fucking me," Pavel moaned, and damned if that didn't get him there like a bullet train, ragged groans as he plastered himself against Chekov's back and came inside him, silken-hot tightness and starlight popping in the corners of his vision.
His knees wanted badly to buckle but Sulu maintained, wrapping his arms around Chekov as the sweat cooled and their breathing recovered, moving gingerly to the bunk to lie on their backs with their shoulders overlapping. Pavel yawned, jaw cracking, and turned to snuggle against Hikaru's chest.
"I am hoping you feel better now," he said, scraping his teeth along Sulu's collarbone, "that you know the truth." Hikaru curled his hand over Pavel's head, poking his index finger through a damp curl.
"Better," he agreed drowsily. Pavel bit down harder to convey his pleasure, and then promptly dozed off; Sulu stayed like that for a while, listening to him breathe, before following him down into welcome, pillowy sleep.
... man, it feels like I haven't written fic in forever. Oh, blush of a new fandom, how long it's been!!
This entry was originally posted at http://bossymarmalade.dreamwidth.org/472251.html. Please comment there using OpenID.