The Value Of A Man: Side One, chapter 1/?
I've been writing a fic with calicokat in which Chekov finds himself in Mirrorverse and everyone wants to rape him. We've also written the flip side to the story, in which mirror!Chekov finds himself in our universe and has evil plans.
So... I'm only going to say this once: the fic as a whole is called The Value Of A Man. There are two separate stories, called Side One and Side Two, and they are both work in progress. We'll be running them side by side.
This is chapter one of Side One, in which movie Chekov is in mirrorverse. At the end is a link to Side Two, in which mirror!Chekov is in the movie verse.
Fandom: Star Trek
Title: The Value Of A Man: Side One (1/?)
Authors:
dirty_smudge and calicokat
Pairings: Chekov/mirror!Sulu
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Rape, non-con BDSM.
Summary: "...still tastes like Pavel," Bones drawled appreciatively. "But this one needs some breaking in."
Notes: Side one of a XI/mirrorverse fanfic. Pavel Chekov finds himself on the ISS Enterprise; a dark mirror of the ship he knows. With the inmates running the asylum, he may not survive a day.
Star Trek and all related properties © and TM 2009 CBS Studios Inc. and are used without permission.
Chekov's body was numb with fear as Bones McCoy, the gruff doctor whose gentle hands had mended his injuries in sick bay, wrenched him back against his bigger body, his breath hot on the ensign's neck. Kirk was the one to watch, though, a feral grin on his lips as his eyes raked Chekov's captive, lean form. Chekov had entered Deck 3's mess to replicate his lunch, and now…
"This ain't him. This ain't Pavel. That's for damn sure," McCoy snarled, voice thick with suspicion.
Chekov swallowed a startled cry as Kirk stepped forward, shoving a hand down the front of his pants. A calloused palm and rough fingers manhandled his limp cock. The captain grinned, nodding consensus.
"-for one thing, he's not hard."
McCoy's hands tightened around Chekov's arms, twisting his uniform against him until his skin burned.
"For fuck's sake, Jim, get your hands out of his pants. He's a spy."
Kirk shook his head, although his other hand fell to his phaser and Chekov's bloodlessly pounding heart almost burst in his chest.
"...Nu-unh. No. I don't think so. Maybe the worst spy ever."
Chekov tried to speak, but his words came out as a startled squeak when something warm and hard ground into his ass. His bottom lip trembled as he looked up at the captain, certain that this was not his captain. These were not the men he knew, which meant this was probably not the Enterprise he knew, and he had never been so terrified before in his life.
"If he's not Pavel, where the fuck did he come from?" Kirk wondered. "He looks like the kid."
"Squeals like the kid too," McCoy agreed, laughing harshly as he rubbed himself against Chekov again. "D'ya think he makes those noises when you hit just the right-"
His words were cut off by the swish of doors opening, and Chekov looked up to see Hikaru Sulu standing in the doorway, an angry look on his face. He could almost have cried with relief; the hand down his pants had curled around his cock and circled the tip as if trying to get a reaction from him.
"Get the fuck away from him," Sulu said conversationally, as if discussing status reports. Chekov couldn't see the doctor's reaction, but he saw Kirk's lip curl and his stomach tightened.
"Hold on, Hikaru. This isn't your boy," Kirk assuaged, tersely. Sulu's eyes narrowed, and he held his ground, but seemed to hesitate now that he'd had a better look at the captive ensign. Now that Chekov had a better look at him, he realized the lieutenant's familiar face was gouged with pale scars. The caresses teasing his cock churned a sick, terrified feeling in Chekov's stomach, and he whimpered, unable to move in the doctor's grasp.
"I think," Kirk continued, thumbnail scraping against Chekov's foreskin, "that when we hit that rift...something happened to Pavel. Now, what'd Spock say?"
"-two Enterprises," Bones supplied, aggression momentarily giving way to contemplation. "Like there were two ships, each on top of the other."
"Right!" Kirk agreed jubilantly, yanking Chekov's penis for emphasis. The ensign yelped as those rough fingers dragged along dry skin. His wide, watering eyes remained locked on Sulu's appraising gaze, pleading for aid.
Now, the doctor had started nuzzling at his neck, the unkempt beard on his jaw ticklish. Chekov shivered as the man's tongue lapped wetly against his sweat damp skin, sending a sickening wave of disgust through him. McCoy licked his lips, savoring the flavor.
"...still tastes like Pavel," he drawled appreciatively. "But this one needs some breaking in."
Chekov twitched, wanting to wriggle away from the doctor's grasp but fearing what would happen to him if he did. Hot tears prickled at his eyes, threatening to spill, and he screwed them up tight, not wanting them to see him cry.
The last thing he saw as his vision blurred was Sulu leaning against the wall, something like amusement playing across his face. Chekov heard him say "He's not yours to break in," and Kirk's laugh, his voice an inch away from Chekov's face.
The next thing he heard was a muffled thump and his eyes flew open in surprise as the doctor's bruising grip was torn away from his skinny arms. Kirk was already on the floor, lip bleeding and a dangerous scowl across his face. Chekov turned to see Sulu holding McCoy's arm across his back as he slammed him repeatedly against the wall, and then Kirk flew past Chekov towards him.
He tried to shout out a warning, but Sulu turned just in time and punched him efficiently in the face. Chekov took a step back as Kirk hit the floor, and found himself face-to-face with Sulu, who was looking at him strangely, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Th- thank you," Chekov stammered, and Sulu's face immediately brightened into a friendly smile.
The ensign smiled back, but it soon dropped off his face, and he glanced nervously towards the two older men panting with anger. The sight of their sneering faces contorted with lust and hatred staggered him with a second wave of cold panic, their eyes on him and not the man who'd assaulted them, but Sulu touched his face and guided his gaze back to his welcoming, understanding cheer. Chekov struggled to muster a weak ghost of a smile. Sulu seemed satisfied, and Chekov tried to ignore how his penis still throbbed with discomfort and how gross it felt to have McCoy's saliva drying on his neck.
"Come on, Pavel," he invited, ushering the ensign towards the door. He shot a look behind him at the two seething men that Chekov couldn't see, teasing dangerously: "Fuck it out, guys. You knew the Russki's mine."
Sulu began to rub soothing circles against Chekov's back once the doors whooshed shut behind them, as he guided him down the hallway.
"Everybody knows not to get left alone with Jim and Bones, so you can't be our Pavel," Sulu supposed, studying the younger man. Chekov couldn't shake the look he'd seen on Sulu's face, but his friend (or the alternate universe version of his friend, because Chekov wasn't stupid and he'd guessed what had happened) had fought off his attackers, so Chekov was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"I didn't know," he said, his voice wavering a little. "The Kirk and McCoy from my universe are not like that." He tried on a smile, still shaking a little and trying not to think about what might have happened had Sulu not rescued him in time.
"Thank you," he said again, "For saving me."
Sulu smirked for a second, and then settled into a soft grin. "My Pavel would have known that I'd never let anyone hurt him," he said gently. "You're safe, now. Come on, I'll take you to my quarters."
Chekov's stomach twisted a little, and he thought about his Enterprise and how he should be getting back to it, and maybe warning his captain about any other dangerous versions of the crew that might have slipped through the gap between universes, but Sulu's hand was firm on the small of his back, and the memory of how calmly he'd dealt with Kirk and McCoy was fresh in Chekov's mind.
This Sulu had appointed his quarters in a refreshingly familiar way. Both Earth and alien plants grew in assorted pots and planters, and antique firearms still decorated his walls. None of the guns looked quite right, but Chekov didn't know much about guns and couldn't put a finger on the difference. He bit his lower lip as Sulu's hand trailed off his back, brushing his buttocks, where this world's McCoy had ground his arousal, but the touch seemed unintentional as his hand drew away.
"It's funny, though. I can't imagine a world where Bones and Jim don't have a cock for every virgin's ass," Sulu joked, but stopped as he saw Chekov startle at his humor. He softened, amusement bright in his brown eyes. "Okay - different sense of humor, too."
Pavel cringed a little.
"I'm sorry-…That I'm not your friend," he apologized sheepishly.
"Hey," Sulu murmured, stroking over Chekov's back, his hand gravitating towards his ass again, "You don't have to worry about anything. We're not exactly strangers."
His hand was resting on Chekov's left buttock, now, and Chekov wondered whether the men of this universe had an ass fetish, or whether his counterpart encouraged this sort of behavior. Chekov tensed and contemplated removing the hand and gently informing this Sulu that he did not have that sort of relationship with his Sulu, but the hand was moving away now, stroking up his back and coming to rest on his shoulder.
"Let me check they didn't do anything to hurt you," Sulu said, tugging at Chekov's tunic with his other hand. Chekov's eyes widened, and he started to shake his head, but Sulu either did not notice or was ignoring it, because his arms were pulled upwards and his tunic was off before he could protest.
"I am fine," he tried to say, clamping his arms down as he did so before Sulu could remove his undershirt. "They did not have time to-"
"Maybe you don't understand," Sulu said sweetly, his voice a low purr. "I'm worried about you, and you don't have any choice in the matter. Now let me check you're okay. I just want to look at you; I'm not gonna hurt you."
His undershirt was pulled off a little roughly, but Sulu's hands were gentle as he undid the zipper of Chekov's slacks. He whimpered, too afraid to stop him, and found himself hoping that Sulu would keep his word not to harm him, whatever his other intentions.
Sulu let Chekov's pants fall around his ankles and his gaze traveled the ensign's bare body. His fingers trailed the red rash on the ensign's arm where McCoy had twisted his clothes against his skin. An echo of cold fear chilled Chekov's chest as he remembered how much bigger and stronger than him this demented version of the doctor had been, and how inescapable.
"See?" Sulu soothed, knowingly. "I can put some balm on that. Now, take your boots off, and then I'm going to see what Jim did to you."
Chekov knew that meant losing his boxers, but he nodded and knelt to remove his boots while Sulu moved to his wardrobe to retrieve what appeared to be a tin of balm. He started to wonder how Sulu had ended up on a ship with the Jim and McCoy he'd just met in all their cruelty and depravity, although he'd already seen Sulu stand up to both of them.
Sulu ushered him to stand by the bed. He stroked Chekov's jaw and Chekov felt uneasy, but safe.
"You're missing some stubble," Sulu explained as he unscrewed the balm. "You never could grow a real moustache, though."
Chekov imagined himself with a moustache, and a nervous giggle bubbled up through him. His skin tingled with perspiration and his heart thudded in his chest as Sulu swiped two fingers through the balm and started to rub it into the rash on his arm. It was cold at first, but the heat from Sulu's fingers soon warmed it up, and the gentle pressure on his skin actually felt good against the rash.
He even began to relax, until Sulu was suddenly standing too close and tugging at the waistband of his boxers. "I can't help you if you're still wearing these," he pointed out. Chekov swallowed and slowly hooked his thumbs under the waistband, dragging the boxers down over his hips and letting them fall to the ground.
He stepped out of the boxers, feeling even more completely naked than he was under Sulu's gaze. The alternate universe version of his friend dragged his gaze down Chekov's chest and over his stomach, then down to his abused, flaccid cock.
"Looks pretty much the same to me," he said, amusement evident in his voice. "Of course, I can't be sure until I've seen it hard..."
"I thought you were going to-" Chekov began to protest, but Sulu was on his knees, his mouth already around Chekov's cock and his fingers were gripping Chekov's naked buttocks possessively. One thing was clear: this was not about serving him; it was about Sulu being in charge and doing what he wanted to Chekov's body.
Tears prickled at his eyes again and he blinked them back. Sulu's mouth felt good around his cock, warm and slick; compared to Kirk and McCoy's rough molestation it could almost be called pleasurable... but this was not what he wanted, not at all. To his shame, he felt himself becoming hard, and he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Sulu hummed around him, seemingly pleased by the soft sobs that tore from his chest.
Chekov sniffed back mucus, blinking against the salty water spilling over his long lashes and staring down at Sulu's smoothly bobbing head as he tried to disassociate the pleasure of the lieutenant suckling on his thickening penis from the revulsion twisting his stomach into knots. Even the ache of his cock as his bruised skin stretched had started to feel pretty nice. Was this what he liked? He couldn't argue with his own erection, could he? Seventeen years old, brilliant, in love with mathematics, and surrounded by friends at least four years older than he was; he'd never had the time or confidence to seek out sexual partners but he'd always tried to imagine what the first, eager time would be like.
His fantasies took so many shapes. Maybe more than one of them had even worn Sulu's face and form.
None of them ever felt like this.
He reached up to wipe at his eyes, but the tears kept falling. Even though his legs were going weak with shame and the hot gathering of pleasure in his groin, Sulu didn't let him fall, the undeniable strength in his arms and shoulders more than sufficient to support him when all he wanted to do was crumple into a ball.
Sulu excelled in cock sucking as he did in all other fields he turned his focus on; he seemed to sense when Chekov was about to come and pulled away, not being able to resist a quick lick to the tip of his cock when he looked up and saw the tears spilling down his face.
"Oh, you have no idea, do you?" he said fondly as he caught Chekov when the ensign's legs buckled and lowered him gently onto the bed. "How pretty, how fucking beautiful you look like this?" It was Sulu's dulcet, gentle voice, but they weren't words Chekov wanted to hear.
He began rubbing Chekov's back again and Chekov sniffed loudly, unable to look him in the eyes, his brow furrowed with worry.
"Shh, it's OK. Cry for me, Baby, come on," Sulu cajoled. "Let it out." His smile turned feral for a sudden second. "Oh Pavel, you do things to me," he purred. Chekov turned his head away, focusing on Sulu's desk through the blurry veil of his tears as he listened to the rustling that indicated Sulu was removing his clothes.
Then a warm body was crawling up his. Sulu pushed him down against the mattress and suddenly his hands were all over Chekov's chest and stomach, and they moved further down as a warm mouth kissed the tears away from his face. Sulu's hands curved over his thighs, slid around his hips and his grip tightened, holding Chekov in place.
"You're going to have to relax," he said, "Or this won't be comfortable. Oh God, you're probably a virgin, aren't you?" His voice thickened at the question, full of lust and wonder and disbelief. Soft kisses pressed into his collarbone.
"You have no idea," he whispered against Chekov's skin, "How many people have fucked Pavel Chekov and wished they were taking his virginity."
Chekov bit his trembling lip and felt his limbs go cold with terror. Sulu's words made this all suddenly very real. He was about to be... he was about to be raped. By his best friend. He suddenly wished he was back with Kirk and McCoy, being roughly pawed and passed between them. That would be preferable to this betrayal.
He knew he shouldn't think of this imposter as Hikaru Sulu, but it was hard to differentiate when his attacker was nuzzling at his jaw and stroking up and down his arms soothingly, murmuring things like "Relax," and "Not gonna hurt you," and "You'll enjoy it; my Pavel can't get enough."
As Sulu seduced his numb but increasingly willing body without ever begging his consent, he remembered lazy days in the rec room, playing chess and laughing about whatever dumb thing Kirk did on the bridge to aggravate Spock, McCoy, or Uhura that morning. He'd spent evenings innocuously lying next to Sulu on his bed as they talked about life and the past and the future and took shots of Vodka Pavel insisted they imbibe in the Russian fashion, replicated zakuskis on hand. Even drunk and getting sloppy, Sulu's hands had never strayed. Chekov spent eight hour shifts next to Hikaru Sulu, joking to relieve the boredom, and when the Enterprise engaged in combat it was him and Sulu at the Conn who ultimately decided the lives of the four hundred crew members aboard, fingers flying and their will in synch.
He couldn't reconcile his absolute trust in Hikaru Sulu with his startled cry of fear as Sulu's weight bore down on his hips and Sulu's hard on forced his body open. He spasmed around Sulu's invasion, a fierce pain wracking his muscles. The lieutenant paused to whisper "shhh, shhhh" against his ear and kiss the tear tracks on his cheek. Chekov began to shake with horror, even as Sulu eased deeper inside him. The stretch of his skin seemed to burn. He couldn't believe Sulu was that thick, or that long, his penetration torturously slow and Chekov's rectum fuller and fuller.
And, suddenly, after what seemed like an eternity of slow intrusion, Sulu stopped. The breath that Chekov had been holding tore itself from his lungs and he gasped for air, choking on every breath as loud sobs wracked his body and Sulu just watched from above him, a small, calculating smile playing across his lips. He felt impossibly full, split open, stretched so much that he feared he would tear open if Sulu so much as moved. This was more than an unwilling intrusion; it was as if Sulu had torn into him and occupied the space inside. His cock was pressing against parts of Chekov that had never been touched, places deep inside of him that he never knew could be so unbearably, uncomfortably sensitive.
He cried out in fear when Sulu started to move, and Sulu must have used some amount of lubricant because his cock met little resistance when it began to slide out of him. Chekov had been expecting pain and blood, but instead was offered no distraction from the intense burn of flesh dragging against his insides, the stimulation of nerve endings not designed to be stimulated like this, the uncomfortable stretching as Sulu thrust back in, too fast, too fast.
Chekov threw his head back and bit his lip and whimpered uncontrollably, containing his gasps and sobs because all they were doing was hurting his throat and spurring Sulu on. His hands tightened into fists, fingernails cutting into his palms, until Sulu grabbed his wrists firmly and held them over his head.
He was restrained and exposed and completely violated, unable to struggle or protest or do anything but take it, and take it, and take it until Sulu was moaning loudly and triumphantly into his ear and biting anywhere he could reach and pounding into Chekov so hard that he thought he would fall apart.
The world narrowed to the plunge of Sulu's cock and those bursts of pain on his skin that bloomed into heat and pleasure. The thinking, willful Chekov was trapped alone in his head, betrayed by a body that could neither fight off Sulu's assault nor stop from reacting to its forced submission.
Chekov clung to his pride with his hard won silence as Sulu bucked over his body and came inside him, startled and grateful he couldn't feel the imagined warmth of that come. A hole had been ripped inside him that could never be sutured shut. As a panting Sulu began to kiss the ugly red bite marks he'd left on Chekov's milky pale skin, Chekov clung to the idea that this was the best friend who loved him - who loved him, but not like this. If it could only be his Sulu, then the cock thrusting the occasional aftershock through his sore and stretched ass would be alright.
Sulu's breathing evened out and the blissed-out look on his face turned to smug amusement. He huffed out a laugh against Chekov's neck, pulled back and looked down at him, and began to laugh properly, taking in Chekov's trembling arms, his flushed erection and the dark spots that wouldn't fade where he'd bitten and sucked at his flesh.
Chekov blinked back his tears, drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and closed his eyes until Sulu's laughter ran its course. He pretended they were in his quarters, talking about something the captain had said and he'd made Sulu laugh with his Spock impersonation. He pretended that Sulu wasn't deep inside him, still hard despite his violent orgasm. He pretended his touches were loving, rather than possessive.
Sulu made a small sound of amusement and tugged at Chekov's cock, causing his eyes to fly open and a strangled gasp to escape him. He hadn't expected this; hadn't expected Sulu to know exactly how to touch him to make him feel good; hadn't really expected Sulu to touch him at all once he'd taken his own pleasure.
"I'd like to see your face when you come; I want to see whether it's the same as his," Sulu said as he pulled back Chekov's foreskin and ran his thumb along the ridge between the head and the shaft. Chekov felt his cock twitch and the dark blush that heated his cheeks and spread down his neck and over his shoulders.
A slow grin spread over Sulu's face. "Oh, that's new," he said. "I like that. What else can you do?"
Chekov let his eyes fall closed again and felt his legs beginning to tremble. He fell back into his fantasy, pretending that it was his Sulu who tightened his fist around his cock, his Sulu who tilted his hips enough to brush past his prostate - something he hadn't bothered to do when he was fucking Chekov raw. His Sulu who whispered "Come for me, slut," except the version in Chekov's head was whispering "Come for me, Pavel" lovingly in his ear as he held Chekov close.
And he tried, really he tried, but he couldn't make himself come for this monster, no matter how much he pretended it was his friend. He knew that if he didn't please Sulu, the outcome would not be good for him, but the pleasure building in his groin wouldn't release, and this left him feeling a tightness around his cock, as if something was preventing him from coming.
He moaned as Sulu's touch began to chafe and even hurt instead of please. He shut his eyes even tighter, afraid to see Sulu's face change and his pretense of kindness evaporate into annoyance. Finally, when his cock ached like one long, sore bruise, Sulu silently released it. Chekov lay still, consumed with fear - arctic cold, again, and its crushing pressure clenching his chest like a vise.
"Look at me," Sulu ordered lowly. For a minute, Chekov couldn't. He heard Sulu's command but his body wouldn't listen as he pleaded with it to obey, betraying him yet another time. Then, Sulu's fingers lightly, warningly touched his forehead and Chekov jerked conscious like a startled rabbit, staring in panic into Sulu's coolly emotionless gaze.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he began to babble, remembering how easily the lieutenant had dispatched McCoy and Kirk. "I'm so sorry - I can't do it. Please, I'm really sorry-"
"You only speak to me in English," Sulu cut in calmly, and only then did Chekov realize he'd been pleading mne ochen' zhal' and pozhalujsta. He shut up, nodding instead of apologizing, his panic subsiding into a nauseating terror as he recognized the extent to which Sulu expected his obedience.
He'd heard of relationships like this; trust dynamics in which one partner was expected to obey the other completely, but he hadn't considered what it might be like to have to come on command, or hold back orgasm when you were on the brink of losing control. He hadn't expected how it might feel to be unable to obey; the tight panic as you realized that your orgasm was there, out of reach, but inaccessible, and the frustration of feeling your balls tighten but not being able to get past the red-hot, liquid tension that preceded release.
Sulu seemed to have given up on trying to make him come; perhaps he had remembered that he wasn't dealing with his Chekov. Whatever was going through his mind, Chekov didn't like the way Sulu was looking at him with cold, hard eyes.
"It's okay," Sulu said, and Chekov could tell that it really wasn't. "Nobody's trained you yet, but I can be patient." He stroked a hand briefly through Chekov's hair, tightening his fingers as he pulled away so that he tugged roughly at his curls. "I'll fix you."
Chekov didn't like the sound of that, or the pain in his scalp, but he'd just disappointed a psychopath and didn't want to push his luck. He was lucky that Sulu had decided to give him a second chance at all, so what he supplicated was: "What are you going to do to me?"
Sulu seemed pleased with his words; perhaps it was his vulnerability, or his acceptance of Sulu's command, but either way it looked like he wasn't going to be injured tonight.
"You'll have to be punished," Sulu told him, and Chekov's chest constricted, but he trusted him not to let him come to harm. "You have to be conditioned to be obedient, otherwise how can I trust you to do as I say?"
Chekov's heart sank, but he nodded, eyes turning downwards as he waited for Sulu to decide his punishment and hoped it wouldn't be too unbearable. Maybe Sulu would merely humiliate him; he thought he could probably deal with that kind of torture, because he would be able to retreat into his fantasy and ignore what was happening to his body.
To Chekov's surprise, Sulu rolled off the bed, but Chekov remained still and quiet and didn't try to follow without being told. He tried to equate the fear he felt in Sulu's presence to anything he'd suffered before, but not even imminent death under heavy fire from the Narada or being dragged backwards into a black hole on a starship with a buckling hole promised the same potential for prolonged agony, and neither tore away at his identity.
The lieutenant keyed open a drawer on the far wall and crouched down to rifle through its contents. Pavel swallowed his apprehensions and stared at the ceiling, after a brief survey of the room proved that Sulu's eerie, old Earth weapons no longer provided the same sense of continuity from his previous life to the future he faced now.
Sulu returned with three items he sat out on the bed: two lengths of rope - one no more than three feet and the other coiled - and a strange, clear oblong object with mechanical innards. Chekov stared, truly baffled by the lieutenant's intent and coming to grips with how little he knew about what men did together in the bedroom. Sulu smiled, kindness returning to his face. He uncoiled the longer rope and then hauled an unresisting Chekov off the mattress to lay him on the cold floor. Chekov couldn't miss his mostly-flaccid cock, sort of shimmery with lubricant and still larger than the ensign wanted to think about.
"Roll onto your side, and put your hands behind your back," Sulu commanded, and it was clear in his tone that he didn't expect to be disobeyed. Even though Chekov groaned with apprehension, he complied exactly. His heart began to pound in his chest as Sulu began to bind his wrists, rough-handling him, but not to the point of bruising his skin or straining his muscles. Resignation sunk in as Sulu moved from binding his wrists to tying up his forearms and then his elbows with quick, practiced hands. Soon enough, he couldn't budge an inch.
Sulu began to dig in the rumpled sheets, and then he produced a tube that must have been the lubricant from before. He smiled kindly at Chekov's confusion, set the lubricant aside, and picked up the short length of rope.
The knot he tied now was at the base of Chekov's anticipation-swollen cock - a little more snug than Chekov could call comfortable. He squeaked nervously as Sulu pushed the knot into place and then cringed in shame.
"When you know how to obey me, I won't have to tie your hands," Sulu promised, his cheer safely back in place. While Chekov got used to the rope's rough snugness, Sulu fixed this length to the knots he'd already made.
Chekov lay as still as he could on his side on the bed, his hands tied together and his cock tied to his hands. He heard Sulu doing something behind him and tried to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen, but his limited experience provided no expectation of what would come next.
The sudden hardness pressing against his ass was unexpected, and at first he thought it was Sulu's cock again, ready for another round, but it felt too solid, too artificial to be flesh. It pressed harder, slickly breached his asshole and was pushed inside, and Chekov realized with frightening clarity that Sulu was violating him with the object he'd taken out of the drawer. It was clearly designed to do more than just stretch him out, and Chekov's thoughts flitted from one possibility to another. He hoped it wouldn't administer electric shocks every time he began to fall asleep.
The rope felt tight around his cock as the object pushed in deeper; Sulu clearly intended it to rest against his prostate because he was angling it, waiting for Chekov's slight flinch to tell him that he'd found the spot. He paused, and Chekov counted the seconds, his loud breathing the only sound in the small quarters.
Then, Sulu twisted something and a low buzzing filled the silence, and Chekov flinched in surprise as the thing began to vibrate inside him. It was the strangest, least comfortable sensation he'd ever experienced, and yet it was intensely pleasurable in a way he couldn't understand. His cock began to throb against its bindings; clearly some part of him was getting enjoyment from the experience, but it didn't feel pleasant, just far too much sensation at once. Chekov arched his body, trying to shift into a position that would relieve the intense pleasure/pain, but all he did was push the object against his prostate. His entire ass contracted as if in orgasm, although the rope around his cock prevented him from coming.
"Perfect," Sulu whispered. Chekov had completely forgotten he was there, but now he felt the firm pressure of two fingers running down the vein on the underside of his cock. Sulu traced the outline of the rope around the base of his cock and then his fingers moved downwards, circling the object where it entered Chekov's body.
"Please," Chekov whimpered, no longer caring about his reactions or what Sulu thought of him. "I cannot take this. Please, I am sorry..."
He cried out at a sudden, stinging smack to his ass, and Sulu took the opportunity to shove a piece of cloth into his mouth. Another cloth was secured around his eyes as a blindfold, and Chekov was left in the darkness with no distraction from the constant buzz of unbearable stimulation, his cock swollen painfully and throbbing with the need to come and his back stiff and painful against the hard floor.
"You can stay there until morning," he heard Sulu say, his voice further away as if he'd moved to the bed. "Try not to whine too loudly; I want to get some sleep."
Chekov bit down on the cloth stuffing his mouth, muffling his distress. He flinched to curl in on himself, but it was too much, and he ended up heaving for breath through his nostrils. Shuddering in silence, he resigned himself to the arousing torture of Sulu's punishment, trying not to count away the hours until morning.
Look into the mirror.
Side One: Chapter Two
So... I'm only going to say this once: the fic as a whole is called The Value Of A Man. There are two separate stories, called Side One and Side Two, and they are both work in progress. We'll be running them side by side.
This is chapter one of Side One, in which movie Chekov is in mirrorverse. At the end is a link to Side Two, in which mirror!Chekov is in the movie verse.
Fandom: Star Trek
Title: The Value Of A Man: Side One (1/?)
Authors:
dirty_smudge and calicokat
Pairings: Chekov/mirror!Sulu
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Rape, non-con BDSM.
Summary: "...still tastes like Pavel," Bones drawled appreciatively. "But this one needs some breaking in."
Notes: Side one of a XI/mirrorverse fanfic. Pavel Chekov finds himself on the ISS Enterprise; a dark mirror of the ship he knows. With the inmates running the asylum, he may not survive a day.
Star Trek and all related properties © and TM 2009 CBS Studios Inc. and are used without permission.
Chekov's body was numb with fear as Bones McCoy, the gruff doctor whose gentle hands had mended his injuries in sick bay, wrenched him back against his bigger body, his breath hot on the ensign's neck. Kirk was the one to watch, though, a feral grin on his lips as his eyes raked Chekov's captive, lean form. Chekov had entered Deck 3's mess to replicate his lunch, and now…
"This ain't him. This ain't Pavel. That's for damn sure," McCoy snarled, voice thick with suspicion.
Chekov swallowed a startled cry as Kirk stepped forward, shoving a hand down the front of his pants. A calloused palm and rough fingers manhandled his limp cock. The captain grinned, nodding consensus.
"-for one thing, he's not hard."
McCoy's hands tightened around Chekov's arms, twisting his uniform against him until his skin burned.
"For fuck's sake, Jim, get your hands out of his pants. He's a spy."
Kirk shook his head, although his other hand fell to his phaser and Chekov's bloodlessly pounding heart almost burst in his chest.
"...Nu-unh. No. I don't think so. Maybe the worst spy ever."
Chekov tried to speak, but his words came out as a startled squeak when something warm and hard ground into his ass. His bottom lip trembled as he looked up at the captain, certain that this was not his captain. These were not the men he knew, which meant this was probably not the Enterprise he knew, and he had never been so terrified before in his life.
"If he's not Pavel, where the fuck did he come from?" Kirk wondered. "He looks like the kid."
"Squeals like the kid too," McCoy agreed, laughing harshly as he rubbed himself against Chekov again. "D'ya think he makes those noises when you hit just the right-"
His words were cut off by the swish of doors opening, and Chekov looked up to see Hikaru Sulu standing in the doorway, an angry look on his face. He could almost have cried with relief; the hand down his pants had curled around his cock and circled the tip as if trying to get a reaction from him.
"Get the fuck away from him," Sulu said conversationally, as if discussing status reports. Chekov couldn't see the doctor's reaction, but he saw Kirk's lip curl and his stomach tightened.
"Hold on, Hikaru. This isn't your boy," Kirk assuaged, tersely. Sulu's eyes narrowed, and he held his ground, but seemed to hesitate now that he'd had a better look at the captive ensign. Now that Chekov had a better look at him, he realized the lieutenant's familiar face was gouged with pale scars. The caresses teasing his cock churned a sick, terrified feeling in Chekov's stomach, and he whimpered, unable to move in the doctor's grasp.
"I think," Kirk continued, thumbnail scraping against Chekov's foreskin, "that when we hit that rift...something happened to Pavel. Now, what'd Spock say?"
"-two Enterprises," Bones supplied, aggression momentarily giving way to contemplation. "Like there were two ships, each on top of the other."
"Right!" Kirk agreed jubilantly, yanking Chekov's penis for emphasis. The ensign yelped as those rough fingers dragged along dry skin. His wide, watering eyes remained locked on Sulu's appraising gaze, pleading for aid.
Now, the doctor had started nuzzling at his neck, the unkempt beard on his jaw ticklish. Chekov shivered as the man's tongue lapped wetly against his sweat damp skin, sending a sickening wave of disgust through him. McCoy licked his lips, savoring the flavor.
"...still tastes like Pavel," he drawled appreciatively. "But this one needs some breaking in."
Chekov twitched, wanting to wriggle away from the doctor's grasp but fearing what would happen to him if he did. Hot tears prickled at his eyes, threatening to spill, and he screwed them up tight, not wanting them to see him cry.
The last thing he saw as his vision blurred was Sulu leaning against the wall, something like amusement playing across his face. Chekov heard him say "He's not yours to break in," and Kirk's laugh, his voice an inch away from Chekov's face.
The next thing he heard was a muffled thump and his eyes flew open in surprise as the doctor's bruising grip was torn away from his skinny arms. Kirk was already on the floor, lip bleeding and a dangerous scowl across his face. Chekov turned to see Sulu holding McCoy's arm across his back as he slammed him repeatedly against the wall, and then Kirk flew past Chekov towards him.
He tried to shout out a warning, but Sulu turned just in time and punched him efficiently in the face. Chekov took a step back as Kirk hit the floor, and found himself face-to-face with Sulu, who was looking at him strangely, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Th- thank you," Chekov stammered, and Sulu's face immediately brightened into a friendly smile.
The ensign smiled back, but it soon dropped off his face, and he glanced nervously towards the two older men panting with anger. The sight of their sneering faces contorted with lust and hatred staggered him with a second wave of cold panic, their eyes on him and not the man who'd assaulted them, but Sulu touched his face and guided his gaze back to his welcoming, understanding cheer. Chekov struggled to muster a weak ghost of a smile. Sulu seemed satisfied, and Chekov tried to ignore how his penis still throbbed with discomfort and how gross it felt to have McCoy's saliva drying on his neck.
"Come on, Pavel," he invited, ushering the ensign towards the door. He shot a look behind him at the two seething men that Chekov couldn't see, teasing dangerously: "Fuck it out, guys. You knew the Russki's mine."
Sulu began to rub soothing circles against Chekov's back once the doors whooshed shut behind them, as he guided him down the hallway.
"Everybody knows not to get left alone with Jim and Bones, so you can't be our Pavel," Sulu supposed, studying the younger man. Chekov couldn't shake the look he'd seen on Sulu's face, but his friend (or the alternate universe version of his friend, because Chekov wasn't stupid and he'd guessed what had happened) had fought off his attackers, so Chekov was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"I didn't know," he said, his voice wavering a little. "The Kirk and McCoy from my universe are not like that." He tried on a smile, still shaking a little and trying not to think about what might have happened had Sulu not rescued him in time.
"Thank you," he said again, "For saving me."
Sulu smirked for a second, and then settled into a soft grin. "My Pavel would have known that I'd never let anyone hurt him," he said gently. "You're safe, now. Come on, I'll take you to my quarters."
Chekov's stomach twisted a little, and he thought about his Enterprise and how he should be getting back to it, and maybe warning his captain about any other dangerous versions of the crew that might have slipped through the gap between universes, but Sulu's hand was firm on the small of his back, and the memory of how calmly he'd dealt with Kirk and McCoy was fresh in Chekov's mind.
This Sulu had appointed his quarters in a refreshingly familiar way. Both Earth and alien plants grew in assorted pots and planters, and antique firearms still decorated his walls. None of the guns looked quite right, but Chekov didn't know much about guns and couldn't put a finger on the difference. He bit his lower lip as Sulu's hand trailed off his back, brushing his buttocks, where this world's McCoy had ground his arousal, but the touch seemed unintentional as his hand drew away.
"It's funny, though. I can't imagine a world where Bones and Jim don't have a cock for every virgin's ass," Sulu joked, but stopped as he saw Chekov startle at his humor. He softened, amusement bright in his brown eyes. "Okay - different sense of humor, too."
Pavel cringed a little.
"I'm sorry-…That I'm not your friend," he apologized sheepishly.
"Hey," Sulu murmured, stroking over Chekov's back, his hand gravitating towards his ass again, "You don't have to worry about anything. We're not exactly strangers."
His hand was resting on Chekov's left buttock, now, and Chekov wondered whether the men of this universe had an ass fetish, or whether his counterpart encouraged this sort of behavior. Chekov tensed and contemplated removing the hand and gently informing this Sulu that he did not have that sort of relationship with his Sulu, but the hand was moving away now, stroking up his back and coming to rest on his shoulder.
"Let me check they didn't do anything to hurt you," Sulu said, tugging at Chekov's tunic with his other hand. Chekov's eyes widened, and he started to shake his head, but Sulu either did not notice or was ignoring it, because his arms were pulled upwards and his tunic was off before he could protest.
"I am fine," he tried to say, clamping his arms down as he did so before Sulu could remove his undershirt. "They did not have time to-"
"Maybe you don't understand," Sulu said sweetly, his voice a low purr. "I'm worried about you, and you don't have any choice in the matter. Now let me check you're okay. I just want to look at you; I'm not gonna hurt you."
His undershirt was pulled off a little roughly, but Sulu's hands were gentle as he undid the zipper of Chekov's slacks. He whimpered, too afraid to stop him, and found himself hoping that Sulu would keep his word not to harm him, whatever his other intentions.
Sulu let Chekov's pants fall around his ankles and his gaze traveled the ensign's bare body. His fingers trailed the red rash on the ensign's arm where McCoy had twisted his clothes against his skin. An echo of cold fear chilled Chekov's chest as he remembered how much bigger and stronger than him this demented version of the doctor had been, and how inescapable.
"See?" Sulu soothed, knowingly. "I can put some balm on that. Now, take your boots off, and then I'm going to see what Jim did to you."
Chekov knew that meant losing his boxers, but he nodded and knelt to remove his boots while Sulu moved to his wardrobe to retrieve what appeared to be a tin of balm. He started to wonder how Sulu had ended up on a ship with the Jim and McCoy he'd just met in all their cruelty and depravity, although he'd already seen Sulu stand up to both of them.
Sulu ushered him to stand by the bed. He stroked Chekov's jaw and Chekov felt uneasy, but safe.
"You're missing some stubble," Sulu explained as he unscrewed the balm. "You never could grow a real moustache, though."
Chekov imagined himself with a moustache, and a nervous giggle bubbled up through him. His skin tingled with perspiration and his heart thudded in his chest as Sulu swiped two fingers through the balm and started to rub it into the rash on his arm. It was cold at first, but the heat from Sulu's fingers soon warmed it up, and the gentle pressure on his skin actually felt good against the rash.
He even began to relax, until Sulu was suddenly standing too close and tugging at the waistband of his boxers. "I can't help you if you're still wearing these," he pointed out. Chekov swallowed and slowly hooked his thumbs under the waistband, dragging the boxers down over his hips and letting them fall to the ground.
He stepped out of the boxers, feeling even more completely naked than he was under Sulu's gaze. The alternate universe version of his friend dragged his gaze down Chekov's chest and over his stomach, then down to his abused, flaccid cock.
"Looks pretty much the same to me," he said, amusement evident in his voice. "Of course, I can't be sure until I've seen it hard..."
"I thought you were going to-" Chekov began to protest, but Sulu was on his knees, his mouth already around Chekov's cock and his fingers were gripping Chekov's naked buttocks possessively. One thing was clear: this was not about serving him; it was about Sulu being in charge and doing what he wanted to Chekov's body.
Tears prickled at his eyes again and he blinked them back. Sulu's mouth felt good around his cock, warm and slick; compared to Kirk and McCoy's rough molestation it could almost be called pleasurable... but this was not what he wanted, not at all. To his shame, he felt himself becoming hard, and he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Sulu hummed around him, seemingly pleased by the soft sobs that tore from his chest.
Chekov sniffed back mucus, blinking against the salty water spilling over his long lashes and staring down at Sulu's smoothly bobbing head as he tried to disassociate the pleasure of the lieutenant suckling on his thickening penis from the revulsion twisting his stomach into knots. Even the ache of his cock as his bruised skin stretched had started to feel pretty nice. Was this what he liked? He couldn't argue with his own erection, could he? Seventeen years old, brilliant, in love with mathematics, and surrounded by friends at least four years older than he was; he'd never had the time or confidence to seek out sexual partners but he'd always tried to imagine what the first, eager time would be like.
His fantasies took so many shapes. Maybe more than one of them had even worn Sulu's face and form.
None of them ever felt like this.
He reached up to wipe at his eyes, but the tears kept falling. Even though his legs were going weak with shame and the hot gathering of pleasure in his groin, Sulu didn't let him fall, the undeniable strength in his arms and shoulders more than sufficient to support him when all he wanted to do was crumple into a ball.
Sulu excelled in cock sucking as he did in all other fields he turned his focus on; he seemed to sense when Chekov was about to come and pulled away, not being able to resist a quick lick to the tip of his cock when he looked up and saw the tears spilling down his face.
"Oh, you have no idea, do you?" he said fondly as he caught Chekov when the ensign's legs buckled and lowered him gently onto the bed. "How pretty, how fucking beautiful you look like this?" It was Sulu's dulcet, gentle voice, but they weren't words Chekov wanted to hear.
He began rubbing Chekov's back again and Chekov sniffed loudly, unable to look him in the eyes, his brow furrowed with worry.
"Shh, it's OK. Cry for me, Baby, come on," Sulu cajoled. "Let it out." His smile turned feral for a sudden second. "Oh Pavel, you do things to me," he purred. Chekov turned his head away, focusing on Sulu's desk through the blurry veil of his tears as he listened to the rustling that indicated Sulu was removing his clothes.
Then a warm body was crawling up his. Sulu pushed him down against the mattress and suddenly his hands were all over Chekov's chest and stomach, and they moved further down as a warm mouth kissed the tears away from his face. Sulu's hands curved over his thighs, slid around his hips and his grip tightened, holding Chekov in place.
"You're going to have to relax," he said, "Or this won't be comfortable. Oh God, you're probably a virgin, aren't you?" His voice thickened at the question, full of lust and wonder and disbelief. Soft kisses pressed into his collarbone.
"You have no idea," he whispered against Chekov's skin, "How many people have fucked Pavel Chekov and wished they were taking his virginity."
Chekov bit his trembling lip and felt his limbs go cold with terror. Sulu's words made this all suddenly very real. He was about to be... he was about to be raped. By his best friend. He suddenly wished he was back with Kirk and McCoy, being roughly pawed and passed between them. That would be preferable to this betrayal.
He knew he shouldn't think of this imposter as Hikaru Sulu, but it was hard to differentiate when his attacker was nuzzling at his jaw and stroking up and down his arms soothingly, murmuring things like "Relax," and "Not gonna hurt you," and "You'll enjoy it; my Pavel can't get enough."
As Sulu seduced his numb but increasingly willing body without ever begging his consent, he remembered lazy days in the rec room, playing chess and laughing about whatever dumb thing Kirk did on the bridge to aggravate Spock, McCoy, or Uhura that morning. He'd spent evenings innocuously lying next to Sulu on his bed as they talked about life and the past and the future and took shots of Vodka Pavel insisted they imbibe in the Russian fashion, replicated zakuskis on hand. Even drunk and getting sloppy, Sulu's hands had never strayed. Chekov spent eight hour shifts next to Hikaru Sulu, joking to relieve the boredom, and when the Enterprise engaged in combat it was him and Sulu at the Conn who ultimately decided the lives of the four hundred crew members aboard, fingers flying and their will in synch.
He couldn't reconcile his absolute trust in Hikaru Sulu with his startled cry of fear as Sulu's weight bore down on his hips and Sulu's hard on forced his body open. He spasmed around Sulu's invasion, a fierce pain wracking his muscles. The lieutenant paused to whisper "shhh, shhhh" against his ear and kiss the tear tracks on his cheek. Chekov began to shake with horror, even as Sulu eased deeper inside him. The stretch of his skin seemed to burn. He couldn't believe Sulu was that thick, or that long, his penetration torturously slow and Chekov's rectum fuller and fuller.
And, suddenly, after what seemed like an eternity of slow intrusion, Sulu stopped. The breath that Chekov had been holding tore itself from his lungs and he gasped for air, choking on every breath as loud sobs wracked his body and Sulu just watched from above him, a small, calculating smile playing across his lips. He felt impossibly full, split open, stretched so much that he feared he would tear open if Sulu so much as moved. This was more than an unwilling intrusion; it was as if Sulu had torn into him and occupied the space inside. His cock was pressing against parts of Chekov that had never been touched, places deep inside of him that he never knew could be so unbearably, uncomfortably sensitive.
He cried out in fear when Sulu started to move, and Sulu must have used some amount of lubricant because his cock met little resistance when it began to slide out of him. Chekov had been expecting pain and blood, but instead was offered no distraction from the intense burn of flesh dragging against his insides, the stimulation of nerve endings not designed to be stimulated like this, the uncomfortable stretching as Sulu thrust back in, too fast, too fast.
Chekov threw his head back and bit his lip and whimpered uncontrollably, containing his gasps and sobs because all they were doing was hurting his throat and spurring Sulu on. His hands tightened into fists, fingernails cutting into his palms, until Sulu grabbed his wrists firmly and held them over his head.
He was restrained and exposed and completely violated, unable to struggle or protest or do anything but take it, and take it, and take it until Sulu was moaning loudly and triumphantly into his ear and biting anywhere he could reach and pounding into Chekov so hard that he thought he would fall apart.
The world narrowed to the plunge of Sulu's cock and those bursts of pain on his skin that bloomed into heat and pleasure. The thinking, willful Chekov was trapped alone in his head, betrayed by a body that could neither fight off Sulu's assault nor stop from reacting to its forced submission.
Chekov clung to his pride with his hard won silence as Sulu bucked over his body and came inside him, startled and grateful he couldn't feel the imagined warmth of that come. A hole had been ripped inside him that could never be sutured shut. As a panting Sulu began to kiss the ugly red bite marks he'd left on Chekov's milky pale skin, Chekov clung to the idea that this was the best friend who loved him - who loved him, but not like this. If it could only be his Sulu, then the cock thrusting the occasional aftershock through his sore and stretched ass would be alright.
Sulu's breathing evened out and the blissed-out look on his face turned to smug amusement. He huffed out a laugh against Chekov's neck, pulled back and looked down at him, and began to laugh properly, taking in Chekov's trembling arms, his flushed erection and the dark spots that wouldn't fade where he'd bitten and sucked at his flesh.
Chekov blinked back his tears, drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and closed his eyes until Sulu's laughter ran its course. He pretended they were in his quarters, talking about something the captain had said and he'd made Sulu laugh with his Spock impersonation. He pretended that Sulu wasn't deep inside him, still hard despite his violent orgasm. He pretended his touches were loving, rather than possessive.
Sulu made a small sound of amusement and tugged at Chekov's cock, causing his eyes to fly open and a strangled gasp to escape him. He hadn't expected this; hadn't expected Sulu to know exactly how to touch him to make him feel good; hadn't really expected Sulu to touch him at all once he'd taken his own pleasure.
"I'd like to see your face when you come; I want to see whether it's the same as his," Sulu said as he pulled back Chekov's foreskin and ran his thumb along the ridge between the head and the shaft. Chekov felt his cock twitch and the dark blush that heated his cheeks and spread down his neck and over his shoulders.
A slow grin spread over Sulu's face. "Oh, that's new," he said. "I like that. What else can you do?"
Chekov let his eyes fall closed again and felt his legs beginning to tremble. He fell back into his fantasy, pretending that it was his Sulu who tightened his fist around his cock, his Sulu who tilted his hips enough to brush past his prostate - something he hadn't bothered to do when he was fucking Chekov raw. His Sulu who whispered "Come for me, slut," except the version in Chekov's head was whispering "Come for me, Pavel" lovingly in his ear as he held Chekov close.
And he tried, really he tried, but he couldn't make himself come for this monster, no matter how much he pretended it was his friend. He knew that if he didn't please Sulu, the outcome would not be good for him, but the pleasure building in his groin wouldn't release, and this left him feeling a tightness around his cock, as if something was preventing him from coming.
He moaned as Sulu's touch began to chafe and even hurt instead of please. He shut his eyes even tighter, afraid to see Sulu's face change and his pretense of kindness evaporate into annoyance. Finally, when his cock ached like one long, sore bruise, Sulu silently released it. Chekov lay still, consumed with fear - arctic cold, again, and its crushing pressure clenching his chest like a vise.
"Look at me," Sulu ordered lowly. For a minute, Chekov couldn't. He heard Sulu's command but his body wouldn't listen as he pleaded with it to obey, betraying him yet another time. Then, Sulu's fingers lightly, warningly touched his forehead and Chekov jerked conscious like a startled rabbit, staring in panic into Sulu's coolly emotionless gaze.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he began to babble, remembering how easily the lieutenant had dispatched McCoy and Kirk. "I'm so sorry - I can't do it. Please, I'm really sorry-"
"You only speak to me in English," Sulu cut in calmly, and only then did Chekov realize he'd been pleading mne ochen' zhal' and pozhalujsta. He shut up, nodding instead of apologizing, his panic subsiding into a nauseating terror as he recognized the extent to which Sulu expected his obedience.
He'd heard of relationships like this; trust dynamics in which one partner was expected to obey the other completely, but he hadn't considered what it might be like to have to come on command, or hold back orgasm when you were on the brink of losing control. He hadn't expected how it might feel to be unable to obey; the tight panic as you realized that your orgasm was there, out of reach, but inaccessible, and the frustration of feeling your balls tighten but not being able to get past the red-hot, liquid tension that preceded release.
Sulu seemed to have given up on trying to make him come; perhaps he had remembered that he wasn't dealing with his Chekov. Whatever was going through his mind, Chekov didn't like the way Sulu was looking at him with cold, hard eyes.
"It's okay," Sulu said, and Chekov could tell that it really wasn't. "Nobody's trained you yet, but I can be patient." He stroked a hand briefly through Chekov's hair, tightening his fingers as he pulled away so that he tugged roughly at his curls. "I'll fix you."
Chekov didn't like the sound of that, or the pain in his scalp, but he'd just disappointed a psychopath and didn't want to push his luck. He was lucky that Sulu had decided to give him a second chance at all, so what he supplicated was: "What are you going to do to me?"
Sulu seemed pleased with his words; perhaps it was his vulnerability, or his acceptance of Sulu's command, but either way it looked like he wasn't going to be injured tonight.
"You'll have to be punished," Sulu told him, and Chekov's chest constricted, but he trusted him not to let him come to harm. "You have to be conditioned to be obedient, otherwise how can I trust you to do as I say?"
Chekov's heart sank, but he nodded, eyes turning downwards as he waited for Sulu to decide his punishment and hoped it wouldn't be too unbearable. Maybe Sulu would merely humiliate him; he thought he could probably deal with that kind of torture, because he would be able to retreat into his fantasy and ignore what was happening to his body.
To Chekov's surprise, Sulu rolled off the bed, but Chekov remained still and quiet and didn't try to follow without being told. He tried to equate the fear he felt in Sulu's presence to anything he'd suffered before, but not even imminent death under heavy fire from the Narada or being dragged backwards into a black hole on a starship with a buckling hole promised the same potential for prolonged agony, and neither tore away at his identity.
The lieutenant keyed open a drawer on the far wall and crouched down to rifle through its contents. Pavel swallowed his apprehensions and stared at the ceiling, after a brief survey of the room proved that Sulu's eerie, old Earth weapons no longer provided the same sense of continuity from his previous life to the future he faced now.
Sulu returned with three items he sat out on the bed: two lengths of rope - one no more than three feet and the other coiled - and a strange, clear oblong object with mechanical innards. Chekov stared, truly baffled by the lieutenant's intent and coming to grips with how little he knew about what men did together in the bedroom. Sulu smiled, kindness returning to his face. He uncoiled the longer rope and then hauled an unresisting Chekov off the mattress to lay him on the cold floor. Chekov couldn't miss his mostly-flaccid cock, sort of shimmery with lubricant and still larger than the ensign wanted to think about.
"Roll onto your side, and put your hands behind your back," Sulu commanded, and it was clear in his tone that he didn't expect to be disobeyed. Even though Chekov groaned with apprehension, he complied exactly. His heart began to pound in his chest as Sulu began to bind his wrists, rough-handling him, but not to the point of bruising his skin or straining his muscles. Resignation sunk in as Sulu moved from binding his wrists to tying up his forearms and then his elbows with quick, practiced hands. Soon enough, he couldn't budge an inch.
Sulu began to dig in the rumpled sheets, and then he produced a tube that must have been the lubricant from before. He smiled kindly at Chekov's confusion, set the lubricant aside, and picked up the short length of rope.
The knot he tied now was at the base of Chekov's anticipation-swollen cock - a little more snug than Chekov could call comfortable. He squeaked nervously as Sulu pushed the knot into place and then cringed in shame.
"When you know how to obey me, I won't have to tie your hands," Sulu promised, his cheer safely back in place. While Chekov got used to the rope's rough snugness, Sulu fixed this length to the knots he'd already made.
Chekov lay as still as he could on his side on the bed, his hands tied together and his cock tied to his hands. He heard Sulu doing something behind him and tried to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen, but his limited experience provided no expectation of what would come next.
The sudden hardness pressing against his ass was unexpected, and at first he thought it was Sulu's cock again, ready for another round, but it felt too solid, too artificial to be flesh. It pressed harder, slickly breached his asshole and was pushed inside, and Chekov realized with frightening clarity that Sulu was violating him with the object he'd taken out of the drawer. It was clearly designed to do more than just stretch him out, and Chekov's thoughts flitted from one possibility to another. He hoped it wouldn't administer electric shocks every time he began to fall asleep.
The rope felt tight around his cock as the object pushed in deeper; Sulu clearly intended it to rest against his prostate because he was angling it, waiting for Chekov's slight flinch to tell him that he'd found the spot. He paused, and Chekov counted the seconds, his loud breathing the only sound in the small quarters.
Then, Sulu twisted something and a low buzzing filled the silence, and Chekov flinched in surprise as the thing began to vibrate inside him. It was the strangest, least comfortable sensation he'd ever experienced, and yet it was intensely pleasurable in a way he couldn't understand. His cock began to throb against its bindings; clearly some part of him was getting enjoyment from the experience, but it didn't feel pleasant, just far too much sensation at once. Chekov arched his body, trying to shift into a position that would relieve the intense pleasure/pain, but all he did was push the object against his prostate. His entire ass contracted as if in orgasm, although the rope around his cock prevented him from coming.
"Perfect," Sulu whispered. Chekov had completely forgotten he was there, but now he felt the firm pressure of two fingers running down the vein on the underside of his cock. Sulu traced the outline of the rope around the base of his cock and then his fingers moved downwards, circling the object where it entered Chekov's body.
"Please," Chekov whimpered, no longer caring about his reactions or what Sulu thought of him. "I cannot take this. Please, I am sorry..."
He cried out at a sudden, stinging smack to his ass, and Sulu took the opportunity to shove a piece of cloth into his mouth. Another cloth was secured around his eyes as a blindfold, and Chekov was left in the darkness with no distraction from the constant buzz of unbearable stimulation, his cock swollen painfully and throbbing with the need to come and his back stiff and painful against the hard floor.
"You can stay there until morning," he heard Sulu say, his voice further away as if he'd moved to the bed. "Try not to whine too loudly; I want to get some sleep."
Chekov bit down on the cloth stuffing his mouth, muffling his distress. He flinched to curl in on himself, but it was too much, and he ended up heaving for breath through his nostrils. Shuddering in silence, he resigned himself to the arousing torture of Sulu's punishment, trying not to count away the hours until morning.
Look into the mirror.
Side One: Chapter Two