sulu/chekov, kirk/chekov, crack
Title: Under Control
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairings: Kirk/Chekov, Sulu/Chekov
Rating: NC-17
Word Count : ~11,000
Summary: Response to a prompt on soblazn_chekov: "Kirk/Chekov - Aliens made them do it." Sulu POV. Sulu is not happy about this.
Warnings: Obvious consent issues, weird combination of crack and angst and h/c?
Notes: Thank you to much to chlorate for the beta read and for saving this fic from its dumb original ending. :D
They were preparing to leave Andulon, a planet they were unhappily forced to journey to during the local people's annual festival of general debauchery, when they discovered that they couldn't teleport away and that they seemed to have been locked into a "departure" room that the ambassador to Earth informed them they would have to clear before leaving, for "paperwork." Kirk didn't hesitate to try to blast his way out of the room when they were unable to teleport away, but this succeeded in nothing but an incredibly loud noise that made Chekov yelp.
"I continue to feel that it was ill-advised, bringing him along," Spock said after they realized they were trapped. He was talking about Chekov, who was standing in the middle of the room, trying not to look nervous and failing. Sulu knew that Spock was only saying so because of Chekov's ability to teleport them out of tricky situations when he was working on the ship instead of in the field, but he still took offense at the remark on behalf of Chekov, who was hypersensitive to the opinions of his superiors.
"Hey!" Kirk shouted, as if some hidden person in the direction of the ceiling would answer, "What the hell's going on here?" Typical Kirk, expecting an answer to be handed down from on high, wanting the universe to halt and explain itself to him.
Then, to everyone's surprise, a voice boomed down over them as if from the sky.
"Captain James Kirk," it said, clearly being modulated through an auto-translation system; the accent was native. "We are prepared to allow you and your crew to leave our planet peacefully, but we have detected one discrepancy that must be corrected before we can allow you to return to your ship."
"You'd better just talk it over with the Federation, because we've got every right to leave!" Kirk shouted back, not bothering to ask whom he was speaking to, a gang lord or a politician. Of course, it was an ambassador who had led them to this "holding room," so it was a safe bet that whoever was issuing orders had something to do with the planet's government.
"I'm afraid this is outside of Federation business," the voice said. "This is a cultural matter."
"Oh, yeah, the Federation never deals with cultural issues," Kirk said, scoffing.
"Captain, might it be wise to make an inquiry regarding the speaker's identity?" Spock asked. He was the only one in the room who still seemed perfectly calm. Kirk was of course outraged that anyone would ever have the nerve to tell him what to do, Chekov looked terrified and Sulu was worried about Chekov, who shouldn't have come, Spock was right. It wasn't that Chekov was fragile; he was an impressive athlete and could maintain his composure through the most harrowing situations on the bridge of the Enterprise, often more successfully than Sulu, who got anxious when he was fired at. But this, this wasn't right. Ever since Sulu found had out that Andulon's infamous "pleasure convention" was going on during their mission he'd become uncomfortable about having a nineteen-year-old who was on his first off-ship assignment along with them. Not that Chekov was naive or delicate enough to be bothered by some hedonistic sex going on in the streets of an alien planet -- any more bothered by it than the rest of them were, anyway -- it was just that something hadn't felt right since they set foot on this planet, and Sulu was rapidly getting the feeling that things were about to get worse.
"I will tell you who you are speaking to, Mr. Spock," the voice said. "This is Ambassador Achtar, and I am the head of the tourism division of our planet's government."
"Well, if you want us to take a survey about our satisfaction with our experience here as tourists, I'll give you the short version," Kirk said. He was losing his patience at the usual rate. "It sucked."
The sort of "party" atmosphere on the planet during the convention had been distasteful even to Kirk, who was no stranger to letting loose while on shore leave but who took his missions very seriously and didn't appreciate the complications inherent in trying to get things done while most of the planet's population were busy sating themselves with sex and recreational drugs. Of course, if Kirk had done a bit more research in his mission planning then he might have been able to avoid the convention altogether, but the calendar used by the local population was extremely complicated, shifting according to the positions of certain stars; there was an entire course taught on the subject of the Andulonian calendar at the Academy, and Kirk clearly hadn't taken it.
"That is not what I am concerned about, Captain Kirk," Achtar said, his voice tightening. "I am concerned about the reputation of our planet, but not about your opinion of it specifically."
"Well, what do you want us to do, man? We're kind of in a hurry to get the hell out of here."
"Our Urxoiq celebration, known to your culture as a pleasure convention, which is a crass term we do not approve of, is extremely important to our people both culturally and financially. We are a humble people with few planetary resources, but through our ingenuity we have been able to earn a large percentage of our operating capital by opening participation in the Urxoiq celebration to tourists --"
"And again, I'd love to know what the hell this has to do with us," Kirk said.
"We advertise the celebration to potential tourists with a very simple slogan," Achtar said. "If you arrive on our planet during Urxoiq, you will not go home a virgin."
"Again, where do we fit in?" Kirk shouted.
Sulu felt suddenly and sharply like he'd been punched in the gut. He willed himself not to look over at Chekov, but couldn't help it. Chekov had gone white, his eyes wide and unfocused.
"One among your party would prove this slogan untrue if we allowed him to leave," Achtar said. Kirk groaned and looked at Spock.
"That's just a myth about Vulcans," Kirk said. "They totally have sex."
"I am not referring to Mr. Spock, Captain. Pavel Chekov is the crew member who is causing the problem."
Kirk sputtered and wheeled around to look at Chekov, raising his eyebrows at him in disbelief. Chekov's said nothing, his cheeks going red. Kirk shrugged and looked back to the ceiling.
"How the hell would you know?" he bellowed.
"We have certain technology in this room," Achtar said.
"Well, it's broken, because he might look young but he's nineteen and --" Kirk turned to Chekov and frowned. "You've, like, had sex, right?" he asked, lowering his voice. Chekov's ears turned red, and Sulu's hands began to shake. Chekov's embarrassment had always been harder to stand than even his own; if Chekov did something wrong at work, a circumstance which was extremely rare, he would go bright red and his eyes would water with humiliation, even if Kirk took it easy on him for the mistake. Sulu hated to see him uncomfortable. He knew Chekov would resent the hell out of it if he knew, but Sulu had been overcome by a desire to protect him almost as soon as they met. It was exacerbated, of course, when Chekov saved Sulu's life. Sulu owed him.
"I --" Chekov stuttered, his face deepening to a shade that was almost purple.
"Really?" Kirk said, under his breath, and then he waved his hand through the air, dismissing this. He turned back to the ceiling.
"Well, we won't tell anyone if you won't," Kirk said to Achtar. "You can write a letter of complaint about my Ensign and his stubborn virginity to the Federation when we've gone, but in the meantime, we're out of here, so let's get on with it, yeah?"
Sulu's shaking hands curled into fists at his sides. Leave it to Kirk to make jokes when Chekov was clearly dying of shame. Sulu wanted to step closer to Chekov and pat his back reassuringly; it wasn't so weird to be a virgin at nineteen when you spent all your free time reading about physics and studying coordinates and obsessing over star charts. Sulu had lost his own virginity at sixteen, which was followed by a two-year dry spell, and he didn't exactly have time for regular dates even now. Or much interest, anyway. The last time he'd had sex was almost a year ago, with an engineer whom he now avoided, because things had ended awkwardly.
"I'm sorry, Captain, but we take our annual festival very seriously," Achtar said. "And we take the promises that we make to those who patronize our planet during the celebration very seriously as well. The reputation of our planet rests on the integrity of this promise. We cannot let you leave this planet while Pavel Chekov retains his virginity."
"That's absurd!" Kirk shouts. He looks to Spock as if he will have an answer for this. "They can't do this!" he says to Spock, throwing out his hands.
"I agree," Spock said. "It's a form of extortion and the Federation will bring sanctions against their planet for this violation of its guidelines."
"We would rather pay sanctions than have our reputation sullied," Achtar said.
"Well, what the fuck do you want us to do?" Kirk asked, glowering up at the ceiling now. Sulu looked around, but still couldn't locate the speaker that Achtar's voice was coming from. The room was simply a steel-gray box, not very large and lit with dull lights that glowed from around the edges of the walls. There was a single door on one wall, which Kirk had already tried to open, and shoot at, and kick out of the wall.
"The solution is simple," Achtar said. "Even if Mr. Chekov loses his virginity to one of his fellow crew members, our reputation will remain intact. This can all be taken care of very quickly if you will simply cooperate."
"This is insanity!" Kirk shouted. For once, Sulu didn't take exception to Kirk's tone when negotiating with officials on alien planets. Sulu was trembling with rage himself, looking around the room desperately for any means of escape. Chekov's mouth was hanging open, and he had his arms locked tightly around his chest, his eyes on Kirk as if he expected Kirk to save him, to get them out of this somehow.
"We're not cooperating," Kirk said, pointing a shaking finger at the ceiling now. "So you'd better just let us out of here unless you want my ship to begin attacking your planet when I don't return."
"On the contrary, Captain, it is your ship that will be in danger if you do not comply, not our planet," Achtar said coolly, as if he'd been looking forward to getting to this part. "With the financial success that our planet has enjoyed because of the Urxoiq celebration, we have purchased some very sophisticated weapons. Your ship is within firing range and would not sustain five minutes worth of damage from our artillery. Additionally, of course, we will kill the four of you if you refuse to do this simple thing that we ask of you."
"Simple!" Kirk screamed, his face now redder than Chekov's. "What you're asking us to do is barbaric!"
"And a direct threat to the U.S.S. Enterprise will result in a much harsher punishment from the Federation than sanctions," Spock said, actually frowning a bit. Sulu was speechless, struck dumb by this insane proposition and by the sound of Chekov's quickening breath. He wanted to put his arms around Chekov's shoulders and make promises about how they would get out of this, no problem, but he didn't really see how they could. Achtar had them trapped.
"We do not fear the Federation," Achtar said smugly. "Money means influence, and weapons mean sovereignty. What we do care about is respect for our culture, and if you do not take steps toward doing away with the virginity of the offending crew member we shall begin firing at your ship. After killing you, of course, Captain."
Kirk walked to the door and began yanking at the handle, growling in frustration and kicking at it when it didn't budge. Spock sighed. Sulu walked to Chekov and touched his arm. Chekov's eyes were huge, wet with embarrassment that had turned to fear.
"You don't have to do anything," Sulu said softly.
"But they will kill us, Hikaru," Chekov said, his voice shaking. "I'm so stupid, I should have already, if only --"
"No, God, don't say that! This is insane, you haven't done anything wrong."
His grip tightened on Chekov's arm, and Chekov smiled at him appreciatively. Kirk gave up on the door and screamed wordlessly, pacing across the room.
"You now have four minutes to comply before you are destroyed," Achtar said.
"Shut up!" Kirk shouted up at the ceiling. He walked to the center of the room and gestured for everyone to move in close.
"Spock," Kirk whispered when their heads were together in a tight circle. "Do you think he's bluffing?"
"I do not, Captain," Spock said. "This culture has been known throughout history for dramatic stunts of this nature."
"Fuck," Kirk whispered. He looked to Sulu. "We're gonna have to -- to --" He shook his head, coming up with nothing. "Just, just let me think --"
"Three minutes," Achtar said, and Kirk groaned.
"Keptin," Chekov said. "This is my fault."
"No, no!" Kirk winced at the suggestion. "This is just -- listen, buddy, we'll figure it out --"
"I do not think that we can, sir," Chekov said. The tremble in his voice made Sulu's stomach ache terribly, and he felt so violently angry about what was happening that he hoped Kirk would find some way to blow up Andulon in revenge.
"I think that I must do what he asks," Chekov said.
"No way," Kirk said, growling the words out. "I am not giving in to the demands of a madman."
"Two minutes," Achtar said, and this time even Spock looked to the ceiling with open annoyance.
"Keptin, please," Chekov said, his breath growing ragged. "It is okay, it is okay. I do not want anyone to be hurt because of me."
"It is the only logical conclusion, I'm afraid," Spock said. "Rest assured that Achtar's people will be considered enemies of the Federation from now on, and will suffer the consequences of that designation." Spock was looking at Chekov as if this should be a comfort.
"No." Sulu didn't know what else to say. "No, we can't."
"We can, we can, is alright," Chekov said, nodding rapidly. "Is alright, is fine, I will do it."
"You have one minute until we fire on the Enterprise," Achtar said, and Kirk tipped his head back with a groan, his eyes pinched shut.
"Okay, you son of a bitch!" he screamed up at the ceiling. "We'll do what you say, just give us a second to --"
"Excellent!" Achtar said cheerfully, and suddenly a small bed fitted with red sheets appeared in the middle of the room, a tube of lubricant resting on its pillows. "Here are your supplies, according to the customs of your culture. Please do hurry, I have much to accomplish today as our celebration draws to a close."
"You're a monster!" Kirk shouted, punching the bed with his fist.
"On the contrary, I think I'm being quite fair, allowing one of you to take the young man's virginity," Achtar said, and the coldness in his voice made Sulu step even closer to Chekov, who was staring down at the floor with resignation. "It could have been arranged in a manner that would have been much less pleasant for him. Now, whoever will be doing the deed should begin getting undressed, before my charitable mood begins to wane."
They all stared at each other uncomfortably, even Spock seemingly at a loss. The only one with his eyes down was Chekov.
"Well, he should get to choose, I guess," Kirk said. "Fuck! I can't believe this is happening, fuck, fuck --"
"Ensign Chekov, if you do not mind, I would like to excuse myself from consideration," Spock said, and Kirk glared at him.
"Spock, for fuck's sake!"
"I do not care who it is," Chekov said, his voice barely audible and his eyes still on the floor.
Sulu's breath was coming in an angry rush, and could barely see past his rage. He would never volunteer to be the one who violated Chekov for the whim of this bastard and his backward civilization. He had actually thought about it before, what it would be like to kiss Chekov; he'd almost done it once when they were drinking together after a shift, when Chekov had grabbed Sulu's shoulder for emphasis after telling a joke, both of them bouncing toward each other with laughter. But this? No, never.
"Well, I'll do it, then," Kirk said, groaning as he began to unbuckle his pants. "If that's okay with you, Pavel."
Suddenly he was Pavel? Sulu's anger was now an audible scream between his ears, and his eyes watered with fury. He couldn't believe how cavalierly the Captain was treating all of this. He couldn't believe it when Chekov nodded glumly and headed toward the bed.
"Now, some ground rules," Achtar said. He sounded so fucking pleased with himself. Sulu swallowed down a scream. "Both parties must climax, of course, for we believe in pleasure here and --"
"I don't need to hear why, just tell me what I have to do!" Kirk snapped, stepping out of his pants and standing at the foot of the bed in his briefs and shirt.
"Well, full nudity is required, of course," Achtar said, and Sulu wouldn't be surprised if he were making that up on the spot, just to be cruel. Chekov was sitting on the end of the bed, still fully dressed, his hands dropped listlessly between his legs. "And the others in the room are not required to participate outside of experiencing the pleasure of the active parties by watching."
"We can't even turn our backs?" Sulu shouted, the words bubbling up out of him without his permission.
"I do not think our rules are unreasonable," Achtar said sharply in response. "Considering that we could require whatever we like of you, in the position you have found yourselves in."
"Just stop fucking talking," Kirk growled up at the ceiling. He sighed and pulled his shirt off. Sulu glanced at Spock, whose arms were crossed over his chest. He looked back to the bed, where Chekov was taking off his shirt, his eyes focused on nothing. His body was so pale and pretty, like Sulu knew it would be. He shut his eyes, then opened them again, fearing some booming reminder that Achtar was watching over all of this. He didn't want Chekov to have to think about that.
"Hey," Kirk said, taking Chekov's chin in his hand and lifting his face. "Don't worry, okay? I know this is gonna be awful and I'm so sorry, I'd do anything not to have to --"
"It is not your fault, Keptin," Chekov said.
"Well, it's not yours, either," Kirk said softly, stroking Chekov's face. "And you just tell me if you need me to stop, if anything hurts."
Chekov nodded solemnly, and Sulu recognized something in his face, some quiet gratitude that it was Kirk doing this to him, if he had to have it done by anybody. A different sort of rage puffed up through Sulu's chest, and he hated himself for it.
Kirk removed his boots and his briefs, and didn't seem to have any qualms about standing naked in the middle of the room. Sulu gave Kirk's cock a quick, jealous appraisal. Admittedly, it was pretty big. His eyes shifted guiltily to Chekov as Chekov removed the last of his clothes. Sulu felt lightheaded, seeing Chekov naked, the flush on his face and neck extending all the way down to his chest. The curls between his legs were dark blond, and his cock, soft against the fitted sheet on the mattress, seemed so wrongly exposed. Sulu had to fight the urge to run over to the bed and cover Chekov's vulnerable body with his own.
Kirk climbed onto the bed, looking awkward for maybe the first time in his life. Sulu glanced over at Spock; he was staring at the bed, expressionless, and Sulu wondered if Vulcans had the ability to project their thoughts elsewhere at will, if Spock was reading over an encyclopedia entry about the wave structure of matter at the moment. Sulu turned back to the bed and saw Kirk crawling forward toward Chekov, who leaned back onto his elbows, his chest heaving under Kirk's.
"God, I'm so sorry," Kirk said, barely loud enough for Sulu and Spock to hear. For some reason the words only enraged Sulu further.
"It's okay, Keptin," Chekov said, leaning back fully, flattening himself onto the mattress beneath Kirk. It was obvious from Chekov's tremulous voice that this was anything but okay, but he stared up at Kirk as if he wanted Kirk to know that he was willing to do this, to save everyone. Sulu's eyes welled up and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. What if Chekov was never the same after this? What if his enthusiasm for everything was dampened, his smile not as easy, his eyes not as bright? And how could they be? Sulu felt like he might blow the planet they were stuck on to pieces himself with the sheer force of his anger.
"Just keep your eyes on mine," Kirk said to Chekov. "And remember, you're not in this alone. I'm here, okay? And if you need me to stop I will." Kirk said so as if he were willing to sacrifice the Enterprise and everyone in this room if Chekov decided he simply couldn't take it. Sulu imagined that he would feel the same way if Chekov was naked beneath him, trembling like that and looking up at him with all the courage he could muster.
"I will tell you, yes," Chekov said, in a whisper now. "Please," he said, touching Kirk's hip, begging him to get it over with. Sulu's mouth was dry and his heart was racing; he'd never been so tense in his life. He wanted to turn away from the scene on the bed and at the same time he was riveted to it, and would have had a hard time closing his eyes even if he were allowed to. Chekov looked so small under Kirk, whose cock hung soft against Chekov's belly as he leaned up over him. Kirk and Chekov's eyes were locked, both of them unblinking, and Kirk was stroking Chekov's hair, just lightly with his thumb, trying to calm him down. Sulu hated Kirk almost as much as Achtar in the moment, for letting this happen, though Sulu couldn't think of any way to avoid it himself.
"Fuck, it's been a long time since I did this with a guy," Kirk mumbled under his breath. "How -- how much have you done, anyway?" he asked Chekov. "Besides actual sex."
"Not much, sir," Chekov said, speaking as if he had an anvil on his chest. Kirk nodded somberly and sighed.
"Okay," Kirk said. "Well. Shit. Um. I guess I'll just, uh, get you ready, and then I'll get myself hard, and then I'll -- do it, and come and everything, and then we'll have you, you know, come, and then we can go, okay?"
Chekov nodded, agreeing to this game plan. One tear escaped down his cheek and he cursed himself as he wiped it away. Sulu hated Kirk for not noticing this; he was reaching for the lubricant. Kirk sat back on his knees and opened the cap.
"Okay," he said, setting the opened lubricant on the pillows again. His voice still had that air of command, as if this were simply a job Kirk had been handed, one he would do as well as he could, but there was a shake in it, too, more regret than nervousness. Sulu knew this would affect Kirk deeply, too; he would feel as if he failed Chekov, though there really was nothing he could have done.
"Now." Kirk leaned beside Chekov, propped onto his elbow. It was clear that he was going to be talking throughout this entire thing. "Roll toward me a little," Kirk said, and Chekov obeyed, turning his back on Sulu and Spock. "Good, now keep your eyes on mine, okay, and remember to tell me when I need to let up a little, alright?"
Chekov nodded, curling in toward Kirk's chest. Kirk sighed and rubbed his hand down Chekov's back, slow and soft, then up again to massage the back of Chekov's neck.
"Just try to relax, okay?" Kirk said, and Sulu thought he could hear a tiny break in Kirk's voice. "I know it's hard, but it's me here, just think about me, just look at me and don't think about anything but me and how I've got you, okay? I've got you and you're gonna be fine."
Just when Sulu was starting to feel sorry for Kirk, his jealousy flared up through him again. As if Kirk should be the one trusted with something as fragile as this. Sulu had to admit, though, that he'd been handling it relatively well so far.
"There you go, just relax, take a deep breath," Kirk said, still stroking his fingers up and down Chekov's back. "Maybe you should roll onto your stomach, that's right, good." Kirk kissed Chekov on the nose. Sulu couldn't see Chekov's face, and he wondered if he was still holding Kirk's gaze or if he had closed his eyes.
"Now this is going to feel weird," Kirk said, slicking his fingers. "But it's supposed to be kind of good, too, so if it feels bad, if it hurts, just tell me, okay?"
Sulu was going to bite the end of his tongue off if Kirk asked Chekov to tell him if whether he was hurting him one more time. Not that he could blame him, really. He watched Kirk's fingers move down the small of Chekov's back and carefully, apologetically, into the crack of his ass. Sulu tried to breathe regularly, and tried to ignore the twitch that moved through his cock when Kirk guided Chekov up onto his knees.
"Spread apart just a little," Kirk said. His voice was breathy now, and his cock wasn't completely soft anymore. "It'll, uh, go in easier if you're not all closed up. That's good, that's good, that's wide enough."
Chekov had his face buried in the pillow now; so much for keeping his eyes on Kirk's. Kirk sat up a straighter and reached down lower; Sulu felt Chekov's gasp slap across him as if it was own asshole that was suddenly being probed by a wet finger.
"Just relax, buddy, this will make the next part easier," Kirk said, rubbing his other hand over Chekov's shoulders. Chekov was huffing his breaths into the pillow, his whole body moving with every pant. Sulu watched with an awful combination of horror and arousal as Kirk pulled Chekov's ass cheeks apart and rubbed one finger over his hole, making Chekov shudder and bury a tight little moan into the pillow.
"Tell me if it hurts," Kirk said, again, and Sulu almost groaned out loud. He glanced over at Spock, who still hadn't moved and who still had the same indefinable expression on his face.
Chekov yelped a little and Sulu jerked his eyes back to the bed. Kirk had his finger in to the knuckle already, and that seemed way too fast, and Sulu didn't believe for a second that Chekov would say anything if he were hurting, because he just wanted to get this over with, and he wasn't the type who liked to correct people anyway.
"Does that feel okay?" Kirk asked, every word barely leaving him, struggling out past his lips. "Talk to me, Pavel, and try not to breathe so hard, you're going to hyperventilate."
Sulu wanted to kill Kirk painfully for that, having the nerve to give Chekov such sharp instructions.
"Is okay," Chekov breathed out, and when his face turned off the pillow Sulu saw that his eyes were pinched shut tightly. "Is okay, Keptin, but please hurry."
"I can't -- I'll hurt you if I hurry."
"Is okay, just hurry, please -- oh."
Kirk's finger was entirely inside Chekov now, and he seemed to have found a not-painful spot. Chekov's mouth fell open with a soft moan, and Sulu stared at Chekov's lips, wet and pink and God, Sulu was hard, he couldn't help it, and would loathe himself forever for it.
"There you go," Kirk said, petting Chekov's back as he curled his finger into him. "Is that good? Right there? Yeah?"
Sulu was plotting Kirk's assassination after that remark. To have the nerve to ask if he was good? Chekov was squirming a little and moving his head on the pillow. He might have even nodded. His eyes were still pressed shut so hard that it looked like that hurt, at least, the tension in his face.
"Okay, now I've got to stretch you," Kirk whispered, and Sulu was baking inside his uniform, so flushed he was afraid he'd lose consciousness. This was not something he should be watching, for so many reasons. It was too intimate, too humiliating, and too painful, for reasons Sulu hadn't really allowed himself to confront before. He wanted to be in Kirk's place, not here but in his quarters on the ship, Chekov soft and calm below him in bed, asking him to keep going, wanting to be pulled open for him. It had taken him way too long to realize this, and he wanted it not because he'd been having dreams about fucking Chekov or sucking him off on the bridge, but because he liked and respected Chekov, who also happened to be incredibly fucking beautiful, and wanted to be with him like Kirk was with him now, in private but still whispering. Just the two of them. Secret. He supposed that would never happen now. He'd be surprised if Chekov would even have the stomach to look at him again, knowing that he'd witnessed this.
Kirk's finger was moving with a steady rhythm now, and Sulu could hear the wet suck and pull noise it made as Kirk worked Chekov open. Chekov was starting to get hard, his cock arching up toward his stomach, and Kirk was already fully erect, the fucking bastard. Not that Sulu could really judge him. He glanced at Spock, but there was no evidence that he was having a similar reaction.
"Okay," Kirk said, his finger going still. "I can give you another finger now or --"
"Please, just do it, Keptin, just do it," Chekov begged, his blush deepening and his eyes seeming to somehow screw even more tightly shut.
"Alright, okay," Kirk said, understanding that Chekov meant it, the thing that would set them all free. Well, they would physically be free, but unless they had their memories wiped they would never really be free of this place. Sulu doubted that even Spock would be unaffected, whatever his outward reaction was.
"Roll over for me," Kirk said, and Chekov obliged, his cock standing up straight and his legs spread out bonelessly on the mattress. He was totally surrendered, limp, his eyes barely cracked as he watched Kirk sit back to slick lubricant onto his cock. Sulu found himself both wishing very much that Chekov would look over at him and praying that he wouldn't. If Chekov saw that Sulu was hard he would never forgive him. Not that Sulu deserved forgiveness.
"Okay," Kirk said, kneeling between Chekov's spread-apart legs. "I'm gonna go really slow, give you time to --"
"Please, not slow, not slow," Chekov said, and his voice broke, the first real sob wracking through him. He pushed his lips together and pressed his eyes shut again, opening them when he'd braced himself. Sulu wanted so much for this to kill his hardon, but it persisted, only because of the sight of Chekov's body so opened up, shining with a thin layer of sweat; Sulu told himself that he was not evil, that his body was simply responding to something that his mind couldn't turn off. But he wouldn't really let himself believe it.
"Hey, hey," Kirk said, leaning over Chekov, making a shield with his body that Chekov shrank beneath. Kirk kissed Chekov's cheeks, and Chekov clung to him, shuddering with the effort not to break down completely. Kirk whispered something in his ear and Chekov nodded, pressing his face against Kirk's cheek. Sulu hated that this would always make them close, this horrible thing they went through together. He hated himself for even thinking of something that petty when Chekov was so broken; Sulu should be glad, he knew, that Kirk was here to help Chekov through this. That they were bonding. Maybe it would make it easier on both of them, ultimately, if they found something deeper in each other while they suffered together. Sulu tried to like the idea that they might.
"I'll try not to go too slow," Kirk said, sitting back. He gently pushed Chekov's legs aside, opening him up further. Chekov took a deep, shaky breath and let it out, nodding almost drowsily. He and Kirk didn't take their eyes off each other. Even when Kirk began to push in, Chekov didn't wince, or pinch his eyes shut, unable to bear watching. He stared up at Kirk, lips parted, chest heaving.
Kirk stopped when his cockhead was inside Chekov's body, his hands on Chekov's knees, stroking him lightly with his thumbs. Even more intense than the connection between their bodies was the way they were staring at each other, as if they had succeeded in blanking away everyone and everything else in the world, as if they were going to get through this together. Sulu's cock leaked as Kirk pushed in a bit further; he could see the way Chekov's body was opening up, that pink tightness pulsing and then relaxing around Kirk's blood-red cock.
"Please," Chekov said, ragged and small, staring up at Kirk. Kirk nodded slowly and began sliding in at a steadier pace, still so slow, until he was finally pressed entirely into Chekov, who groaned with the sensation, letting his eyes fall shut.
"Are you okay?" Kirk asked. Chekov nodded, his eyes still closed.
"Yes, okay," Chekov said. His fingers were twisted in the bedsheets, claw-like. "Now please finish, Keptin, please." His voice broke so hard on the last word that Sulu couldn't imagine that it wouldn't get Kirk close to going over the edge already. The problem with Kirk was that he had made a second career of getting laid, and Sulu had heard female crew members gossiping about his impressive longevity. The thought made his stomach ache now.
"Okay," Kirk said. "Sh-shouldn't be too hard, you're so tight, fuck." Kirk let his head drop forward and his mouth fall open. He began moving into Chekov, still slow, still squeezing Chekov's knees as he held them out around him. Sulu watched Chekov's face for any sign of pain, but he just looked drugged, his grip on the sheets slackening. The way his body bounced with Kirk's short thrusts made Sulu want to cry and moan and scream all at once, and his throat felt dangerously loose, as if some sort of sound was going to come up. He swallowed it down.
"God," Kirk huffed, letting go of Chekov's knees and bracing his hands against the mattress. "I'm sorry, I'm trying."
"Should I say things?" Chekov asked desperately. "Fuck me, Keptin," he tried. "Fuck me, please please, I want you to come, I want you to come."
"Okay, that's making it worse," Kirk said. "Try it in Russian."
Chekov tried, speaking frantically, wincing out the words. Kirk still didn't finish. Kirk took Chekov's ankles in his hands and spread his legs out around him, Chekov's now-softening cock bouncing as Kirk thrust into him harder, at Chekov's urging.
"I'm sorry," Kirk said, sounding close to tears himself when he still hadn't come. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Do it harder, is okay, harder if you like," Chekov said, but of course the problem was that Kirk didn't like what he was doing at all, even if his dick was enjoying the tight pressure of Chekov's ass enough to stay hard.
"Don't you have a fantasy or something?" Sulu barked before he could stop himself. Kirk turned to him with surprise, as if he'd forgotten he was there. Then he turned further, looking at Spock.
"Yeah, and this ain't it," Kirk shouted back. Chekov put his hand over his face, whimpering, his cock completely soft against his stomach now.
"Well, shut your eyes and think of something else, for God's sake!" Sulu said.
"If I may set forth a theory, Captain," Spock said, stepping toward the bed. Sulu and Kirk groaned.
"What, Spock?" Kirk asked, panting.
"I believe that you are having trouble achieving orgasm because you are concerned that you are doing harm to Ensign Chekov."
"Ya think?" Kirk said, glaring at him.
"I highly doubt that Ensign Chekov is in as much pain as you feel you are causing him. Perhaps if Chekov describes the physical sensations as he experiences them you will feel more comfortable with the fact that he is not being as gravely injured as you fear."
Leave it to Spock to think that the damage this was doing to Chekov physically was the reason Kirk wasn't enjoying the experience enough to come. But Chekov was nodding encouragingly, reaching out to stroke Kirk's arms and regaining his attention.
"Yes, Keptin, you see, I am not hurt," Chekov said, clearly struggling to make his voice sound as strong as possible. "The way you feel, inside me, is not bad."
"Well, what does it feel like?" Kirk asked, a little timidly, staring down at him. "It can't feel all that good, your cock's not even hard."
"Here, Keptin, you help me, I'll feel good," Chekov said, taking Kirk's hand and bringing it to his cock. Kirk began to stroke him, Chekov guiding his hand.
"Your cock feels not bad," Chekov says, staring up at Kirk. "Just so big and thick, making me so full."
Kirk groaned a little as if to agree.
"And when you move, it is like an itch on the inside of me is being scratched," Chekov said. Kirk shifted backward and Chekov groaned, his cock beginning to stiffen in Kirk's hand. "And I like it when you hold my legs," Chekov admitted shyly. Kirk took up his ankles again, lifting them in the air and setting Chekov's right ankle on his shoulder so he'd have a free hand for Chekov's cock.
"Yes, this feels good," Chekov said, shutting his eyes. "I trust you, Keptin, you have not hurt me, you never would -- ah, yes, hard like that, that feels nice, please, yes."
Chekov was a pretty amazing actor, but it must not have been entirely insincere, because his cock had grown full and red in Kirk's hand, Kirk's strokes speeding up along with his thrusts. Sulu swallowed a giant lump in his throat, feeling as if he was spread out on the bed, too, frantic and exposed, wanting so much for this to be over.
"You like that?" Kirk ground out, and Sulu had to forgive him for it, because he was only trying to finish as soon as he could.
"Yes, Keptin, I like it, oh, you feel so good, make me so hard." Chekov arched back, his hips beginning to twitch up to meet Kirk's thrusts. Kirk was jerking Chekov's cock hard now, seeming to get off on that more than fucking him, and what finally sent him over the edge was a long, loud whine from Chekov, wordless and so desperate, his head thrown back. Kirk grunted and fell forward, releasing Chekov's ankles and catching himself against the mattress with his hands. He breathed through his nose, clearly trying to stop himself from shouting in pleasure as he pumped everything he had into Chekov. He slid out of Chekov as his cock was still pulsing, spilling come onto the sheets. Chekov breathed hard with relief, staring up at the ceiling, then reached for Kirk to embrace him gratefully. Kirk kissed Chekov hard on the mouth, and Sulu jerked with surprise, his stomach pitching. Chekov held Kirk's face and kissed him with the same breathless urgency, as if they had to communicate something unbearable to each other and this was the only way to do it.
When they broke apart they kept their faces together, breath coming so fast, and Sulu imagined he could feel the heat of it from across the room, from their sweat-slicked bodies pressed so fully together. Kirk's hand went around Chekov's cock, and this was it, the last thing they had to do, if Achtar was true to his word. Once Chekov came, the nightmare would be over. Except that it wouldn't be, really, for any of them. Kirk would have to live with what he'd been forced to do. Chekov of course would be traumatized. Sulu was completely crushed. Chekov was looking up at Kirk as if he would never in his life feel this close to anyone else.
"Okay," Kirk said softly, speaking with his lips almost against Chekov's face. He kissed him again, lazily now, and Sulu saw Chekov's short, pink tongue dart out to meet Kirk's. "How's this, this good?" Kirk asked. "You want my mouth?"
Chekov shook his head emphatically. "No, Keptin, stay here, like this."
Kirk nodded, keeping his face pressed against Chekov's as he stroked him. Chekov seemed to fall into it at first, and then the minutes passed, and Sulu heard a choked, panicked little sound from the back of Chekov's throat when he realized that coming wouldn't be as easy as bucking up into Kirk's touch. Too much had happened. The air was too thick with anxiety.
"Come on," Kirk whispered, and Sulu felt like the words had come out of his own mouth; he couldn't remember the last time he'd blinked. "Come on, Pavel, it's okay, just let it go, let it go."
Chekov sobbed, and for a moment Sulu was relieved, thinking he was finally going to finish, but he was still hard, pushing up desperately into Kirk's hand, wanting too much for it to be over.
"It's okay, you're okay," Kirk said. "Look at me, Pavel."
Chekov did as Kirk asked, his bottom lip trembling. Kirk stared down at Chekov like he was the end of the world, the last good thing, perishing before his eyes.
"I'm here, you're okay," Kirk whispered. "We're gonna go home, and - you know how good you felt, Pavel? God, you were so tight and hot and you're so soft, you're so beautiful, and you know how many people on my ship want you? Want to put you over that console and -"
Sulu was ready to declare Kirk a genius when Chekov finally came, screaming up at the ceiling, tears streaking down his face. Kirk leaned in to kiss Chekov's neck, then up along his jaw; he licked Chekov's tears away. Chekov's chest was still breaking under the waves of his breath, and his eyes were shut as Kirk petted his sweaty hair.
"There, good, you did so good," Kirk said. Sulu heard Spock sigh, just slightly, with relief of his own. Sulu didn't even know what to feel; he was wrecked, his cock mostly soft again and his head throbbing with the worst headache he'd ever had. He unclenched his jaw, realizing that he'd been grinding his teeth for God knew how long.
"You have been cleared for teleportation," Achtar's voice said suddenly, making them all jump. "Thank you for cooperating."
Kirk said nothing, but Sulu could hear the words he was holding in as he leaned up over Chekov and looked back over his shoulder, in the direction of the ceiling, You will all pay so dearly for what you've done. Sulu was glad at least for this, that Kirk was rash enough to do something to avenge what had been done to Chekov, to all of them. Kirk sat up on his knees and retrieved Chekov's shirt, helping him pull it over his head before handing him his underwear. Neither of them looked at Sulu or Spock as they dressed.
"Scotty," Kirk said, speaking into his communicator. "Can you hear me now?"
"Yeah!" The sound of Scotty's voice was like a balm, a dream that Sulu wouldn't let himself believe: someone who didn't know what had just happened. "Where the bloody hell have you four been?"
"Never mind, just lock on and beam us up," Kirk said. He looked back at Chekov, who was putting on his pants. Chekov's arms were shaking so badly that he could barely work the zipper.
"C'mere," Kirk said, standing from the bed and holding his arms out for Chekov, who scooted toward him, reaching out. Kirk picked Chekov up fully, cradling him in his arms, and Chekov shut his eyes against Kirk's neck, his arms circling Kirk's shoulders. Kirk finally looked at Spock, then at Sulu, who had begun to feel the pull of the transporter at the pit of his stomach.
"Don't tell anyone what happened," Kirk said stiffly, and then suddenly they were all gone, whisked away from the nightmare of the windowless room and back to their ship, their home. Sulu almost didn't recognize it, because everything had changed. He stood in place on the teleportation platform, watching Spock walk to Uhura, who was waiting, reaching for him. Kirk carried Chekov away, grumbling at the onlookers and inquiries as he walked past, toward his quarters. Chekov was limp and silent in his arms.
"Are you alright?" someone called to Sulu when a full minute had passed and he still hadn't moved. It was McCoy, who was frowning slightly, a stethoscope around his neck.
"I'm fine," Sulu said, the most flagrant lie he'd ever told.
*
Part II
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairings: Kirk/Chekov, Sulu/Chekov
Rating: NC-17
Word Count : ~11,000
Summary: Response to a prompt on soblazn_chekov: "Kirk/Chekov - Aliens made them do it." Sulu POV. Sulu is not happy about this.
Warnings: Obvious consent issues, weird combination of crack and angst and h/c?
Notes: Thank you to much to chlorate for the beta read and for saving this fic from its dumb original ending. :D
They were preparing to leave Andulon, a planet they were unhappily forced to journey to during the local people's annual festival of general debauchery, when they discovered that they couldn't teleport away and that they seemed to have been locked into a "departure" room that the ambassador to Earth informed them they would have to clear before leaving, for "paperwork." Kirk didn't hesitate to try to blast his way out of the room when they were unable to teleport away, but this succeeded in nothing but an incredibly loud noise that made Chekov yelp.
"I continue to feel that it was ill-advised, bringing him along," Spock said after they realized they were trapped. He was talking about Chekov, who was standing in the middle of the room, trying not to look nervous and failing. Sulu knew that Spock was only saying so because of Chekov's ability to teleport them out of tricky situations when he was working on the ship instead of in the field, but he still took offense at the remark on behalf of Chekov, who was hypersensitive to the opinions of his superiors.
"Hey!" Kirk shouted, as if some hidden person in the direction of the ceiling would answer, "What the hell's going on here?" Typical Kirk, expecting an answer to be handed down from on high, wanting the universe to halt and explain itself to him.
Then, to everyone's surprise, a voice boomed down over them as if from the sky.
"Captain James Kirk," it said, clearly being modulated through an auto-translation system; the accent was native. "We are prepared to allow you and your crew to leave our planet peacefully, but we have detected one discrepancy that must be corrected before we can allow you to return to your ship."
"You'd better just talk it over with the Federation, because we've got every right to leave!" Kirk shouted back, not bothering to ask whom he was speaking to, a gang lord or a politician. Of course, it was an ambassador who had led them to this "holding room," so it was a safe bet that whoever was issuing orders had something to do with the planet's government.
"I'm afraid this is outside of Federation business," the voice said. "This is a cultural matter."
"Oh, yeah, the Federation never deals with cultural issues," Kirk said, scoffing.
"Captain, might it be wise to make an inquiry regarding the speaker's identity?" Spock asked. He was the only one in the room who still seemed perfectly calm. Kirk was of course outraged that anyone would ever have the nerve to tell him what to do, Chekov looked terrified and Sulu was worried about Chekov, who shouldn't have come, Spock was right. It wasn't that Chekov was fragile; he was an impressive athlete and could maintain his composure through the most harrowing situations on the bridge of the Enterprise, often more successfully than Sulu, who got anxious when he was fired at. But this, this wasn't right. Ever since Sulu found had out that Andulon's infamous "pleasure convention" was going on during their mission he'd become uncomfortable about having a nineteen-year-old who was on his first off-ship assignment along with them. Not that Chekov was naive or delicate enough to be bothered by some hedonistic sex going on in the streets of an alien planet -- any more bothered by it than the rest of them were, anyway -- it was just that something hadn't felt right since they set foot on this planet, and Sulu was rapidly getting the feeling that things were about to get worse.
"I will tell you who you are speaking to, Mr. Spock," the voice said. "This is Ambassador Achtar, and I am the head of the tourism division of our planet's government."
"Well, if you want us to take a survey about our satisfaction with our experience here as tourists, I'll give you the short version," Kirk said. He was losing his patience at the usual rate. "It sucked."
The sort of "party" atmosphere on the planet during the convention had been distasteful even to Kirk, who was no stranger to letting loose while on shore leave but who took his missions very seriously and didn't appreciate the complications inherent in trying to get things done while most of the planet's population were busy sating themselves with sex and recreational drugs. Of course, if Kirk had done a bit more research in his mission planning then he might have been able to avoid the convention altogether, but the calendar used by the local population was extremely complicated, shifting according to the positions of certain stars; there was an entire course taught on the subject of the Andulonian calendar at the Academy, and Kirk clearly hadn't taken it.
"That is not what I am concerned about, Captain Kirk," Achtar said, his voice tightening. "I am concerned about the reputation of our planet, but not about your opinion of it specifically."
"Well, what do you want us to do, man? We're kind of in a hurry to get the hell out of here."
"Our Urxoiq celebration, known to your culture as a pleasure convention, which is a crass term we do not approve of, is extremely important to our people both culturally and financially. We are a humble people with few planetary resources, but through our ingenuity we have been able to earn a large percentage of our operating capital by opening participation in the Urxoiq celebration to tourists --"
"And again, I'd love to know what the hell this has to do with us," Kirk said.
"We advertise the celebration to potential tourists with a very simple slogan," Achtar said. "If you arrive on our planet during Urxoiq, you will not go home a virgin."
"Again, where do we fit in?" Kirk shouted.
Sulu felt suddenly and sharply like he'd been punched in the gut. He willed himself not to look over at Chekov, but couldn't help it. Chekov had gone white, his eyes wide and unfocused.
"One among your party would prove this slogan untrue if we allowed him to leave," Achtar said. Kirk groaned and looked at Spock.
"That's just a myth about Vulcans," Kirk said. "They totally have sex."
"I am not referring to Mr. Spock, Captain. Pavel Chekov is the crew member who is causing the problem."
Kirk sputtered and wheeled around to look at Chekov, raising his eyebrows at him in disbelief. Chekov's said nothing, his cheeks going red. Kirk shrugged and looked back to the ceiling.
"How the hell would you know?" he bellowed.
"We have certain technology in this room," Achtar said.
"Well, it's broken, because he might look young but he's nineteen and --" Kirk turned to Chekov and frowned. "You've, like, had sex, right?" he asked, lowering his voice. Chekov's ears turned red, and Sulu's hands began to shake. Chekov's embarrassment had always been harder to stand than even his own; if Chekov did something wrong at work, a circumstance which was extremely rare, he would go bright red and his eyes would water with humiliation, even if Kirk took it easy on him for the mistake. Sulu hated to see him uncomfortable. He knew Chekov would resent the hell out of it if he knew, but Sulu had been overcome by a desire to protect him almost as soon as they met. It was exacerbated, of course, when Chekov saved Sulu's life. Sulu owed him.
"I --" Chekov stuttered, his face deepening to a shade that was almost purple.
"Really?" Kirk said, under his breath, and then he waved his hand through the air, dismissing this. He turned back to the ceiling.
"Well, we won't tell anyone if you won't," Kirk said to Achtar. "You can write a letter of complaint about my Ensign and his stubborn virginity to the Federation when we've gone, but in the meantime, we're out of here, so let's get on with it, yeah?"
Sulu's shaking hands curled into fists at his sides. Leave it to Kirk to make jokes when Chekov was clearly dying of shame. Sulu wanted to step closer to Chekov and pat his back reassuringly; it wasn't so weird to be a virgin at nineteen when you spent all your free time reading about physics and studying coordinates and obsessing over star charts. Sulu had lost his own virginity at sixteen, which was followed by a two-year dry spell, and he didn't exactly have time for regular dates even now. Or much interest, anyway. The last time he'd had sex was almost a year ago, with an engineer whom he now avoided, because things had ended awkwardly.
"I'm sorry, Captain, but we take our annual festival very seriously," Achtar said. "And we take the promises that we make to those who patronize our planet during the celebration very seriously as well. The reputation of our planet rests on the integrity of this promise. We cannot let you leave this planet while Pavel Chekov retains his virginity."
"That's absurd!" Kirk shouts. He looks to Spock as if he will have an answer for this. "They can't do this!" he says to Spock, throwing out his hands.
"I agree," Spock said. "It's a form of extortion and the Federation will bring sanctions against their planet for this violation of its guidelines."
"We would rather pay sanctions than have our reputation sullied," Achtar said.
"Well, what the fuck do you want us to do?" Kirk asked, glowering up at the ceiling now. Sulu looked around, but still couldn't locate the speaker that Achtar's voice was coming from. The room was simply a steel-gray box, not very large and lit with dull lights that glowed from around the edges of the walls. There was a single door on one wall, which Kirk had already tried to open, and shoot at, and kick out of the wall.
"The solution is simple," Achtar said. "Even if Mr. Chekov loses his virginity to one of his fellow crew members, our reputation will remain intact. This can all be taken care of very quickly if you will simply cooperate."
"This is insanity!" Kirk shouted. For once, Sulu didn't take exception to Kirk's tone when negotiating with officials on alien planets. Sulu was trembling with rage himself, looking around the room desperately for any means of escape. Chekov's mouth was hanging open, and he had his arms locked tightly around his chest, his eyes on Kirk as if he expected Kirk to save him, to get them out of this somehow.
"We're not cooperating," Kirk said, pointing a shaking finger at the ceiling now. "So you'd better just let us out of here unless you want my ship to begin attacking your planet when I don't return."
"On the contrary, Captain, it is your ship that will be in danger if you do not comply, not our planet," Achtar said coolly, as if he'd been looking forward to getting to this part. "With the financial success that our planet has enjoyed because of the Urxoiq celebration, we have purchased some very sophisticated weapons. Your ship is within firing range and would not sustain five minutes worth of damage from our artillery. Additionally, of course, we will kill the four of you if you refuse to do this simple thing that we ask of you."
"Simple!" Kirk screamed, his face now redder than Chekov's. "What you're asking us to do is barbaric!"
"And a direct threat to the U.S.S. Enterprise will result in a much harsher punishment from the Federation than sanctions," Spock said, actually frowning a bit. Sulu was speechless, struck dumb by this insane proposition and by the sound of Chekov's quickening breath. He wanted to put his arms around Chekov's shoulders and make promises about how they would get out of this, no problem, but he didn't really see how they could. Achtar had them trapped.
"We do not fear the Federation," Achtar said smugly. "Money means influence, and weapons mean sovereignty. What we do care about is respect for our culture, and if you do not take steps toward doing away with the virginity of the offending crew member we shall begin firing at your ship. After killing you, of course, Captain."
Kirk walked to the door and began yanking at the handle, growling in frustration and kicking at it when it didn't budge. Spock sighed. Sulu walked to Chekov and touched his arm. Chekov's eyes were huge, wet with embarrassment that had turned to fear.
"You don't have to do anything," Sulu said softly.
"But they will kill us, Hikaru," Chekov said, his voice shaking. "I'm so stupid, I should have already, if only --"
"No, God, don't say that! This is insane, you haven't done anything wrong."
His grip tightened on Chekov's arm, and Chekov smiled at him appreciatively. Kirk gave up on the door and screamed wordlessly, pacing across the room.
"You now have four minutes to comply before you are destroyed," Achtar said.
"Shut up!" Kirk shouted up at the ceiling. He walked to the center of the room and gestured for everyone to move in close.
"Spock," Kirk whispered when their heads were together in a tight circle. "Do you think he's bluffing?"
"I do not, Captain," Spock said. "This culture has been known throughout history for dramatic stunts of this nature."
"Fuck," Kirk whispered. He looked to Sulu. "We're gonna have to -- to --" He shook his head, coming up with nothing. "Just, just let me think --"
"Three minutes," Achtar said, and Kirk groaned.
"Keptin," Chekov said. "This is my fault."
"No, no!" Kirk winced at the suggestion. "This is just -- listen, buddy, we'll figure it out --"
"I do not think that we can, sir," Chekov said. The tremble in his voice made Sulu's stomach ache terribly, and he felt so violently angry about what was happening that he hoped Kirk would find some way to blow up Andulon in revenge.
"I think that I must do what he asks," Chekov said.
"No way," Kirk said, growling the words out. "I am not giving in to the demands of a madman."
"Two minutes," Achtar said, and this time even Spock looked to the ceiling with open annoyance.
"Keptin, please," Chekov said, his breath growing ragged. "It is okay, it is okay. I do not want anyone to be hurt because of me."
"It is the only logical conclusion, I'm afraid," Spock said. "Rest assured that Achtar's people will be considered enemies of the Federation from now on, and will suffer the consequences of that designation." Spock was looking at Chekov as if this should be a comfort.
"No." Sulu didn't know what else to say. "No, we can't."
"We can, we can, is alright," Chekov said, nodding rapidly. "Is alright, is fine, I will do it."
"You have one minute until we fire on the Enterprise," Achtar said, and Kirk tipped his head back with a groan, his eyes pinched shut.
"Okay, you son of a bitch!" he screamed up at the ceiling. "We'll do what you say, just give us a second to --"
"Excellent!" Achtar said cheerfully, and suddenly a small bed fitted with red sheets appeared in the middle of the room, a tube of lubricant resting on its pillows. "Here are your supplies, according to the customs of your culture. Please do hurry, I have much to accomplish today as our celebration draws to a close."
"You're a monster!" Kirk shouted, punching the bed with his fist.
"On the contrary, I think I'm being quite fair, allowing one of you to take the young man's virginity," Achtar said, and the coldness in his voice made Sulu step even closer to Chekov, who was staring down at the floor with resignation. "It could have been arranged in a manner that would have been much less pleasant for him. Now, whoever will be doing the deed should begin getting undressed, before my charitable mood begins to wane."
They all stared at each other uncomfortably, even Spock seemingly at a loss. The only one with his eyes down was Chekov.
"Well, he should get to choose, I guess," Kirk said. "Fuck! I can't believe this is happening, fuck, fuck --"
"Ensign Chekov, if you do not mind, I would like to excuse myself from consideration," Spock said, and Kirk glared at him.
"Spock, for fuck's sake!"
"I do not care who it is," Chekov said, his voice barely audible and his eyes still on the floor.
Sulu's breath was coming in an angry rush, and could barely see past his rage. He would never volunteer to be the one who violated Chekov for the whim of this bastard and his backward civilization. He had actually thought about it before, what it would be like to kiss Chekov; he'd almost done it once when they were drinking together after a shift, when Chekov had grabbed Sulu's shoulder for emphasis after telling a joke, both of them bouncing toward each other with laughter. But this? No, never.
"Well, I'll do it, then," Kirk said, groaning as he began to unbuckle his pants. "If that's okay with you, Pavel."
Suddenly he was Pavel? Sulu's anger was now an audible scream between his ears, and his eyes watered with fury. He couldn't believe how cavalierly the Captain was treating all of this. He couldn't believe it when Chekov nodded glumly and headed toward the bed.
"Now, some ground rules," Achtar said. He sounded so fucking pleased with himself. Sulu swallowed down a scream. "Both parties must climax, of course, for we believe in pleasure here and --"
"I don't need to hear why, just tell me what I have to do!" Kirk snapped, stepping out of his pants and standing at the foot of the bed in his briefs and shirt.
"Well, full nudity is required, of course," Achtar said, and Sulu wouldn't be surprised if he were making that up on the spot, just to be cruel. Chekov was sitting on the end of the bed, still fully dressed, his hands dropped listlessly between his legs. "And the others in the room are not required to participate outside of experiencing the pleasure of the active parties by watching."
"We can't even turn our backs?" Sulu shouted, the words bubbling up out of him without his permission.
"I do not think our rules are unreasonable," Achtar said sharply in response. "Considering that we could require whatever we like of you, in the position you have found yourselves in."
"Just stop fucking talking," Kirk growled up at the ceiling. He sighed and pulled his shirt off. Sulu glanced at Spock, whose arms were crossed over his chest. He looked back to the bed, where Chekov was taking off his shirt, his eyes focused on nothing. His body was so pale and pretty, like Sulu knew it would be. He shut his eyes, then opened them again, fearing some booming reminder that Achtar was watching over all of this. He didn't want Chekov to have to think about that.
"Hey," Kirk said, taking Chekov's chin in his hand and lifting his face. "Don't worry, okay? I know this is gonna be awful and I'm so sorry, I'd do anything not to have to --"
"It is not your fault, Keptin," Chekov said.
"Well, it's not yours, either," Kirk said softly, stroking Chekov's face. "And you just tell me if you need me to stop, if anything hurts."
Chekov nodded solemnly, and Sulu recognized something in his face, some quiet gratitude that it was Kirk doing this to him, if he had to have it done by anybody. A different sort of rage puffed up through Sulu's chest, and he hated himself for it.
Kirk removed his boots and his briefs, and didn't seem to have any qualms about standing naked in the middle of the room. Sulu gave Kirk's cock a quick, jealous appraisal. Admittedly, it was pretty big. His eyes shifted guiltily to Chekov as Chekov removed the last of his clothes. Sulu felt lightheaded, seeing Chekov naked, the flush on his face and neck extending all the way down to his chest. The curls between his legs were dark blond, and his cock, soft against the fitted sheet on the mattress, seemed so wrongly exposed. Sulu had to fight the urge to run over to the bed and cover Chekov's vulnerable body with his own.
Kirk climbed onto the bed, looking awkward for maybe the first time in his life. Sulu glanced over at Spock; he was staring at the bed, expressionless, and Sulu wondered if Vulcans had the ability to project their thoughts elsewhere at will, if Spock was reading over an encyclopedia entry about the wave structure of matter at the moment. Sulu turned back to the bed and saw Kirk crawling forward toward Chekov, who leaned back onto his elbows, his chest heaving under Kirk's.
"God, I'm so sorry," Kirk said, barely loud enough for Sulu and Spock to hear. For some reason the words only enraged Sulu further.
"It's okay, Keptin," Chekov said, leaning back fully, flattening himself onto the mattress beneath Kirk. It was obvious from Chekov's tremulous voice that this was anything but okay, but he stared up at Kirk as if he wanted Kirk to know that he was willing to do this, to save everyone. Sulu's eyes welled up and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. What if Chekov was never the same after this? What if his enthusiasm for everything was dampened, his smile not as easy, his eyes not as bright? And how could they be? Sulu felt like he might blow the planet they were stuck on to pieces himself with the sheer force of his anger.
"Just keep your eyes on mine," Kirk said to Chekov. "And remember, you're not in this alone. I'm here, okay? And if you need me to stop I will." Kirk said so as if he were willing to sacrifice the Enterprise and everyone in this room if Chekov decided he simply couldn't take it. Sulu imagined that he would feel the same way if Chekov was naked beneath him, trembling like that and looking up at him with all the courage he could muster.
"I will tell you, yes," Chekov said, in a whisper now. "Please," he said, touching Kirk's hip, begging him to get it over with. Sulu's mouth was dry and his heart was racing; he'd never been so tense in his life. He wanted to turn away from the scene on the bed and at the same time he was riveted to it, and would have had a hard time closing his eyes even if he were allowed to. Chekov looked so small under Kirk, whose cock hung soft against Chekov's belly as he leaned up over him. Kirk and Chekov's eyes were locked, both of them unblinking, and Kirk was stroking Chekov's hair, just lightly with his thumb, trying to calm him down. Sulu hated Kirk almost as much as Achtar in the moment, for letting this happen, though Sulu couldn't think of any way to avoid it himself.
"Fuck, it's been a long time since I did this with a guy," Kirk mumbled under his breath. "How -- how much have you done, anyway?" he asked Chekov. "Besides actual sex."
"Not much, sir," Chekov said, speaking as if he had an anvil on his chest. Kirk nodded somberly and sighed.
"Okay," Kirk said. "Well. Shit. Um. I guess I'll just, uh, get you ready, and then I'll get myself hard, and then I'll -- do it, and come and everything, and then we'll have you, you know, come, and then we can go, okay?"
Chekov nodded, agreeing to this game plan. One tear escaped down his cheek and he cursed himself as he wiped it away. Sulu hated Kirk for not noticing this; he was reaching for the lubricant. Kirk sat back on his knees and opened the cap.
"Okay," he said, setting the opened lubricant on the pillows again. His voice still had that air of command, as if this were simply a job Kirk had been handed, one he would do as well as he could, but there was a shake in it, too, more regret than nervousness. Sulu knew this would affect Kirk deeply, too; he would feel as if he failed Chekov, though there really was nothing he could have done.
"Now." Kirk leaned beside Chekov, propped onto his elbow. It was clear that he was going to be talking throughout this entire thing. "Roll toward me a little," Kirk said, and Chekov obeyed, turning his back on Sulu and Spock. "Good, now keep your eyes on mine, okay, and remember to tell me when I need to let up a little, alright?"
Chekov nodded, curling in toward Kirk's chest. Kirk sighed and rubbed his hand down Chekov's back, slow and soft, then up again to massage the back of Chekov's neck.
"Just try to relax, okay?" Kirk said, and Sulu thought he could hear a tiny break in Kirk's voice. "I know it's hard, but it's me here, just think about me, just look at me and don't think about anything but me and how I've got you, okay? I've got you and you're gonna be fine."
Just when Sulu was starting to feel sorry for Kirk, his jealousy flared up through him again. As if Kirk should be the one trusted with something as fragile as this. Sulu had to admit, though, that he'd been handling it relatively well so far.
"There you go, just relax, take a deep breath," Kirk said, still stroking his fingers up and down Chekov's back. "Maybe you should roll onto your stomach, that's right, good." Kirk kissed Chekov on the nose. Sulu couldn't see Chekov's face, and he wondered if he was still holding Kirk's gaze or if he had closed his eyes.
"Now this is going to feel weird," Kirk said, slicking his fingers. "But it's supposed to be kind of good, too, so if it feels bad, if it hurts, just tell me, okay?"
Sulu was going to bite the end of his tongue off if Kirk asked Chekov to tell him if whether he was hurting him one more time. Not that he could blame him, really. He watched Kirk's fingers move down the small of Chekov's back and carefully, apologetically, into the crack of his ass. Sulu tried to breathe regularly, and tried to ignore the twitch that moved through his cock when Kirk guided Chekov up onto his knees.
"Spread apart just a little," Kirk said. His voice was breathy now, and his cock wasn't completely soft anymore. "It'll, uh, go in easier if you're not all closed up. That's good, that's good, that's wide enough."
Chekov had his face buried in the pillow now; so much for keeping his eyes on Kirk's. Kirk sat up a straighter and reached down lower; Sulu felt Chekov's gasp slap across him as if it was own asshole that was suddenly being probed by a wet finger.
"Just relax, buddy, this will make the next part easier," Kirk said, rubbing his other hand over Chekov's shoulders. Chekov was huffing his breaths into the pillow, his whole body moving with every pant. Sulu watched with an awful combination of horror and arousal as Kirk pulled Chekov's ass cheeks apart and rubbed one finger over his hole, making Chekov shudder and bury a tight little moan into the pillow.
"Tell me if it hurts," Kirk said, again, and Sulu almost groaned out loud. He glanced over at Spock, who still hadn't moved and who still had the same indefinable expression on his face.
Chekov yelped a little and Sulu jerked his eyes back to the bed. Kirk had his finger in to the knuckle already, and that seemed way too fast, and Sulu didn't believe for a second that Chekov would say anything if he were hurting, because he just wanted to get this over with, and he wasn't the type who liked to correct people anyway.
"Does that feel okay?" Kirk asked, every word barely leaving him, struggling out past his lips. "Talk to me, Pavel, and try not to breathe so hard, you're going to hyperventilate."
Sulu wanted to kill Kirk painfully for that, having the nerve to give Chekov such sharp instructions.
"Is okay," Chekov breathed out, and when his face turned off the pillow Sulu saw that his eyes were pinched shut tightly. "Is okay, Keptin, but please hurry."
"I can't -- I'll hurt you if I hurry."
"Is okay, just hurry, please -- oh."
Kirk's finger was entirely inside Chekov now, and he seemed to have found a not-painful spot. Chekov's mouth fell open with a soft moan, and Sulu stared at Chekov's lips, wet and pink and God, Sulu was hard, he couldn't help it, and would loathe himself forever for it.
"There you go," Kirk said, petting Chekov's back as he curled his finger into him. "Is that good? Right there? Yeah?"
Sulu was plotting Kirk's assassination after that remark. To have the nerve to ask if he was good? Chekov was squirming a little and moving his head on the pillow. He might have even nodded. His eyes were still pressed shut so hard that it looked like that hurt, at least, the tension in his face.
"Okay, now I've got to stretch you," Kirk whispered, and Sulu was baking inside his uniform, so flushed he was afraid he'd lose consciousness. This was not something he should be watching, for so many reasons. It was too intimate, too humiliating, and too painful, for reasons Sulu hadn't really allowed himself to confront before. He wanted to be in Kirk's place, not here but in his quarters on the ship, Chekov soft and calm below him in bed, asking him to keep going, wanting to be pulled open for him. It had taken him way too long to realize this, and he wanted it not because he'd been having dreams about fucking Chekov or sucking him off on the bridge, but because he liked and respected Chekov, who also happened to be incredibly fucking beautiful, and wanted to be with him like Kirk was with him now, in private but still whispering. Just the two of them. Secret. He supposed that would never happen now. He'd be surprised if Chekov would even have the stomach to look at him again, knowing that he'd witnessed this.
Kirk's finger was moving with a steady rhythm now, and Sulu could hear the wet suck and pull noise it made as Kirk worked Chekov open. Chekov was starting to get hard, his cock arching up toward his stomach, and Kirk was already fully erect, the fucking bastard. Not that Sulu could really judge him. He glanced at Spock, but there was no evidence that he was having a similar reaction.
"Okay," Kirk said, his finger going still. "I can give you another finger now or --"
"Please, just do it, Keptin, just do it," Chekov begged, his blush deepening and his eyes seeming to somehow screw even more tightly shut.
"Alright, okay," Kirk said, understanding that Chekov meant it, the thing that would set them all free. Well, they would physically be free, but unless they had their memories wiped they would never really be free of this place. Sulu doubted that even Spock would be unaffected, whatever his outward reaction was.
"Roll over for me," Kirk said, and Chekov obliged, his cock standing up straight and his legs spread out bonelessly on the mattress. He was totally surrendered, limp, his eyes barely cracked as he watched Kirk sit back to slick lubricant onto his cock. Sulu found himself both wishing very much that Chekov would look over at him and praying that he wouldn't. If Chekov saw that Sulu was hard he would never forgive him. Not that Sulu deserved forgiveness.
"Okay," Kirk said, kneeling between Chekov's spread-apart legs. "I'm gonna go really slow, give you time to --"
"Please, not slow, not slow," Chekov said, and his voice broke, the first real sob wracking through him. He pushed his lips together and pressed his eyes shut again, opening them when he'd braced himself. Sulu wanted so much for this to kill his hardon, but it persisted, only because of the sight of Chekov's body so opened up, shining with a thin layer of sweat; Sulu told himself that he was not evil, that his body was simply responding to something that his mind couldn't turn off. But he wouldn't really let himself believe it.
"Hey, hey," Kirk said, leaning over Chekov, making a shield with his body that Chekov shrank beneath. Kirk kissed Chekov's cheeks, and Chekov clung to him, shuddering with the effort not to break down completely. Kirk whispered something in his ear and Chekov nodded, pressing his face against Kirk's cheek. Sulu hated that this would always make them close, this horrible thing they went through together. He hated himself for even thinking of something that petty when Chekov was so broken; Sulu should be glad, he knew, that Kirk was here to help Chekov through this. That they were bonding. Maybe it would make it easier on both of them, ultimately, if they found something deeper in each other while they suffered together. Sulu tried to like the idea that they might.
"I'll try not to go too slow," Kirk said, sitting back. He gently pushed Chekov's legs aside, opening him up further. Chekov took a deep, shaky breath and let it out, nodding almost drowsily. He and Kirk didn't take their eyes off each other. Even when Kirk began to push in, Chekov didn't wince, or pinch his eyes shut, unable to bear watching. He stared up at Kirk, lips parted, chest heaving.
Kirk stopped when his cockhead was inside Chekov's body, his hands on Chekov's knees, stroking him lightly with his thumbs. Even more intense than the connection between their bodies was the way they were staring at each other, as if they had succeeded in blanking away everyone and everything else in the world, as if they were going to get through this together. Sulu's cock leaked as Kirk pushed in a bit further; he could see the way Chekov's body was opening up, that pink tightness pulsing and then relaxing around Kirk's blood-red cock.
"Please," Chekov said, ragged and small, staring up at Kirk. Kirk nodded slowly and began sliding in at a steadier pace, still so slow, until he was finally pressed entirely into Chekov, who groaned with the sensation, letting his eyes fall shut.
"Are you okay?" Kirk asked. Chekov nodded, his eyes still closed.
"Yes, okay," Chekov said. His fingers were twisted in the bedsheets, claw-like. "Now please finish, Keptin, please." His voice broke so hard on the last word that Sulu couldn't imagine that it wouldn't get Kirk close to going over the edge already. The problem with Kirk was that he had made a second career of getting laid, and Sulu had heard female crew members gossiping about his impressive longevity. The thought made his stomach ache now.
"Okay," Kirk said. "Sh-shouldn't be too hard, you're so tight, fuck." Kirk let his head drop forward and his mouth fall open. He began moving into Chekov, still slow, still squeezing Chekov's knees as he held them out around him. Sulu watched Chekov's face for any sign of pain, but he just looked drugged, his grip on the sheets slackening. The way his body bounced with Kirk's short thrusts made Sulu want to cry and moan and scream all at once, and his throat felt dangerously loose, as if some sort of sound was going to come up. He swallowed it down.
"God," Kirk huffed, letting go of Chekov's knees and bracing his hands against the mattress. "I'm sorry, I'm trying."
"Should I say things?" Chekov asked desperately. "Fuck me, Keptin," he tried. "Fuck me, please please, I want you to come, I want you to come."
"Okay, that's making it worse," Kirk said. "Try it in Russian."
Chekov tried, speaking frantically, wincing out the words. Kirk still didn't finish. Kirk took Chekov's ankles in his hands and spread his legs out around him, Chekov's now-softening cock bouncing as Kirk thrust into him harder, at Chekov's urging.
"I'm sorry," Kirk said, sounding close to tears himself when he still hadn't come. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Do it harder, is okay, harder if you like," Chekov said, but of course the problem was that Kirk didn't like what he was doing at all, even if his dick was enjoying the tight pressure of Chekov's ass enough to stay hard.
"Don't you have a fantasy or something?" Sulu barked before he could stop himself. Kirk turned to him with surprise, as if he'd forgotten he was there. Then he turned further, looking at Spock.
"Yeah, and this ain't it," Kirk shouted back. Chekov put his hand over his face, whimpering, his cock completely soft against his stomach now.
"Well, shut your eyes and think of something else, for God's sake!" Sulu said.
"If I may set forth a theory, Captain," Spock said, stepping toward the bed. Sulu and Kirk groaned.
"What, Spock?" Kirk asked, panting.
"I believe that you are having trouble achieving orgasm because you are concerned that you are doing harm to Ensign Chekov."
"Ya think?" Kirk said, glaring at him.
"I highly doubt that Ensign Chekov is in as much pain as you feel you are causing him. Perhaps if Chekov describes the physical sensations as he experiences them you will feel more comfortable with the fact that he is not being as gravely injured as you fear."
Leave it to Spock to think that the damage this was doing to Chekov physically was the reason Kirk wasn't enjoying the experience enough to come. But Chekov was nodding encouragingly, reaching out to stroke Kirk's arms and regaining his attention.
"Yes, Keptin, you see, I am not hurt," Chekov said, clearly struggling to make his voice sound as strong as possible. "The way you feel, inside me, is not bad."
"Well, what does it feel like?" Kirk asked, a little timidly, staring down at him. "It can't feel all that good, your cock's not even hard."
"Here, Keptin, you help me, I'll feel good," Chekov said, taking Kirk's hand and bringing it to his cock. Kirk began to stroke him, Chekov guiding his hand.
"Your cock feels not bad," Chekov says, staring up at Kirk. "Just so big and thick, making me so full."
Kirk groaned a little as if to agree.
"And when you move, it is like an itch on the inside of me is being scratched," Chekov said. Kirk shifted backward and Chekov groaned, his cock beginning to stiffen in Kirk's hand. "And I like it when you hold my legs," Chekov admitted shyly. Kirk took up his ankles again, lifting them in the air and setting Chekov's right ankle on his shoulder so he'd have a free hand for Chekov's cock.
"Yes, this feels good," Chekov said, shutting his eyes. "I trust you, Keptin, you have not hurt me, you never would -- ah, yes, hard like that, that feels nice, please, yes."
Chekov was a pretty amazing actor, but it must not have been entirely insincere, because his cock had grown full and red in Kirk's hand, Kirk's strokes speeding up along with his thrusts. Sulu swallowed a giant lump in his throat, feeling as if he was spread out on the bed, too, frantic and exposed, wanting so much for this to be over.
"You like that?" Kirk ground out, and Sulu had to forgive him for it, because he was only trying to finish as soon as he could.
"Yes, Keptin, I like it, oh, you feel so good, make me so hard." Chekov arched back, his hips beginning to twitch up to meet Kirk's thrusts. Kirk was jerking Chekov's cock hard now, seeming to get off on that more than fucking him, and what finally sent him over the edge was a long, loud whine from Chekov, wordless and so desperate, his head thrown back. Kirk grunted and fell forward, releasing Chekov's ankles and catching himself against the mattress with his hands. He breathed through his nose, clearly trying to stop himself from shouting in pleasure as he pumped everything he had into Chekov. He slid out of Chekov as his cock was still pulsing, spilling come onto the sheets. Chekov breathed hard with relief, staring up at the ceiling, then reached for Kirk to embrace him gratefully. Kirk kissed Chekov hard on the mouth, and Sulu jerked with surprise, his stomach pitching. Chekov held Kirk's face and kissed him with the same breathless urgency, as if they had to communicate something unbearable to each other and this was the only way to do it.
When they broke apart they kept their faces together, breath coming so fast, and Sulu imagined he could feel the heat of it from across the room, from their sweat-slicked bodies pressed so fully together. Kirk's hand went around Chekov's cock, and this was it, the last thing they had to do, if Achtar was true to his word. Once Chekov came, the nightmare would be over. Except that it wouldn't be, really, for any of them. Kirk would have to live with what he'd been forced to do. Chekov of course would be traumatized. Sulu was completely crushed. Chekov was looking up at Kirk as if he would never in his life feel this close to anyone else.
"Okay," Kirk said softly, speaking with his lips almost against Chekov's face. He kissed him again, lazily now, and Sulu saw Chekov's short, pink tongue dart out to meet Kirk's. "How's this, this good?" Kirk asked. "You want my mouth?"
Chekov shook his head emphatically. "No, Keptin, stay here, like this."
Kirk nodded, keeping his face pressed against Chekov's as he stroked him. Chekov seemed to fall into it at first, and then the minutes passed, and Sulu heard a choked, panicked little sound from the back of Chekov's throat when he realized that coming wouldn't be as easy as bucking up into Kirk's touch. Too much had happened. The air was too thick with anxiety.
"Come on," Kirk whispered, and Sulu felt like the words had come out of his own mouth; he couldn't remember the last time he'd blinked. "Come on, Pavel, it's okay, just let it go, let it go."
Chekov sobbed, and for a moment Sulu was relieved, thinking he was finally going to finish, but he was still hard, pushing up desperately into Kirk's hand, wanting too much for it to be over.
"It's okay, you're okay," Kirk said. "Look at me, Pavel."
Chekov did as Kirk asked, his bottom lip trembling. Kirk stared down at Chekov like he was the end of the world, the last good thing, perishing before his eyes.
"I'm here, you're okay," Kirk whispered. "We're gonna go home, and - you know how good you felt, Pavel? God, you were so tight and hot and you're so soft, you're so beautiful, and you know how many people on my ship want you? Want to put you over that console and -"
Sulu was ready to declare Kirk a genius when Chekov finally came, screaming up at the ceiling, tears streaking down his face. Kirk leaned in to kiss Chekov's neck, then up along his jaw; he licked Chekov's tears away. Chekov's chest was still breaking under the waves of his breath, and his eyes were shut as Kirk petted his sweaty hair.
"There, good, you did so good," Kirk said. Sulu heard Spock sigh, just slightly, with relief of his own. Sulu didn't even know what to feel; he was wrecked, his cock mostly soft again and his head throbbing with the worst headache he'd ever had. He unclenched his jaw, realizing that he'd been grinding his teeth for God knew how long.
"You have been cleared for teleportation," Achtar's voice said suddenly, making them all jump. "Thank you for cooperating."
Kirk said nothing, but Sulu could hear the words he was holding in as he leaned up over Chekov and looked back over his shoulder, in the direction of the ceiling, You will all pay so dearly for what you've done. Sulu was glad at least for this, that Kirk was rash enough to do something to avenge what had been done to Chekov, to all of them. Kirk sat up on his knees and retrieved Chekov's shirt, helping him pull it over his head before handing him his underwear. Neither of them looked at Sulu or Spock as they dressed.
"Scotty," Kirk said, speaking into his communicator. "Can you hear me now?"
"Yeah!" The sound of Scotty's voice was like a balm, a dream that Sulu wouldn't let himself believe: someone who didn't know what had just happened. "Where the bloody hell have you four been?"
"Never mind, just lock on and beam us up," Kirk said. He looked back at Chekov, who was putting on his pants. Chekov's arms were shaking so badly that he could barely work the zipper.
"C'mere," Kirk said, standing from the bed and holding his arms out for Chekov, who scooted toward him, reaching out. Kirk picked Chekov up fully, cradling him in his arms, and Chekov shut his eyes against Kirk's neck, his arms circling Kirk's shoulders. Kirk finally looked at Spock, then at Sulu, who had begun to feel the pull of the transporter at the pit of his stomach.
"Don't tell anyone what happened," Kirk said stiffly, and then suddenly they were all gone, whisked away from the nightmare of the windowless room and back to their ship, their home. Sulu almost didn't recognize it, because everything had changed. He stood in place on the teleportation platform, watching Spock walk to Uhura, who was waiting, reaching for him. Kirk carried Chekov away, grumbling at the onlookers and inquiries as he walked past, toward his quarters. Chekov was limp and silent in his arms.
"Are you alright?" someone called to Sulu when a full minute had passed and he still hadn't moved. It was McCoy, who was frowning slightly, a stethoscope around his neck.
"I'm fine," Sulu said, the most flagrant lie he'd ever told.
*
Part II