Fic: Damaged, McCoy/Chekov, NC-17
Title: Damaged
Author: isidore13
Pairing: McCoy/Chekov
Written For: eldritchhorrors
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7589
Disclaimer: Not mine in any conceivable way.
Warnings: Highlight if you want to know: **in no particular order: slight humiliation, mention of a het relationship (not explicit, TOS canon but not necessarily ST:XI canon), angst, totally consensual daddy issues kink, rimming, slash (buttsecks)**
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t here because his childhood had been idyllic.
Notes: So sorry for the late posting, eldritchhorrors; I hope you enjoy it!
Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t here because his childhood had been idyllic. Even kids with genius IQ levels will tend to stay home rather than join an adult organization, where they will knowingly be surrounded by people who’ll either resent their intelligence or pretend it isn’t real.
That is, they’ll stay home if their home life is even a little bit less than completely awful.
Pavel Andreievich Chekov’s could not be viewed that way. Not that he’d ever told anyone about it. Or ever would, if he could help it.
During the first four years of his life, Pavel Andreievich had been deeply, deeply loved by both of his parents. He could remember his mother cuddling him close while she read her psychology books, and his father playing football with him in the backyard, teaching him how to kick the ball with the side of his foot.
On Pavel Andreievich’s fifth birthday, his mother had gone out to get frosting for his birthday cake, which she’d forgotten the day before.
She never came back home.
Though he was only five years old, Pavel Andreievich had been showing signs of his impressive intelligence since birth. He understood what the police detective meant when he told Andrei that Pavel Andreievich’s mother had died instantly after her car was struck and shoved into the wall of the shopping center.
What he didn’t understand at the time - and, really, still understood on only the most superficial of levels as he matured - was how his father reacted to the loss of his wife.
At first, Andrei drew into himself, sitting in the family space for hours, days, with a bottle in his lap, watching the family view screen, running through all of the files that had any kind of image or sound of Pavel Andreievich’s mother. He often forgot to make dinner for himself and Pavel Andreievich, and as a result, Pavel would have to scrounge for whatever was available - replicators were too expensive to keep in private homes, so Pavel would have to make do with the produce delivery of the week, and sometimes he could find a packet of crackers to fill out his night time meal.
Once - only once, and never again after that - Pavel Andreievich tried to climb up into his father’s lap so they could watch his mother together, as he felt he wanted to watch his mum, too. He’d even brought along a banana for his father to eat. But Andrei just grunted and shoved little Pavel Andreievich to the floor.
So Pavel Andreievich was left to find his own comfort. Being the smart little boy he was, he turned to his data PADDs to look at the pictures of bunnies and birds and cats and frogs. Soon enough he was sounding out the letters in the text parts as well as he could. He practiced it all the time, calling up pictures of each page of the story in his little brain and taking each letter by itself, until he was able to recite the whole story.
He never thought it strange that he only had to look at a story once to be able to recall the entire thing, down the slightly out-of-place slash mark on page six of Bunny Rabbit Jingles and the missing period at the end of page eight of Miss Anna’s Spaceship Adventures.
To little Pavel Andreievich, the two weeks it took to learn all of the stories on each of his little library of children’s data PADDS seemed to stretch out forever - but after that, there was nothing left for Pavel Andreievich to read, and Andrei was still too sad to pay attention enough to buy new stories for Pavel Andreievich’s data PADDs.
But soon enough, Pavel Andreievich remembered that his mother’s office was full of books. They were all big books, but that didn’t matter to Pavel Andreievich - after all, he could look at the page and memorize the words on it, and then recall an exact picture of the page to read later in his head.
All that being said, Pavel Andreievich wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the really big books - his mother had preferred to read old books in the original, thick, hard-back copy-bound style, so her study was actually full of bookcases - a rare thing to find in a private house. So Pavel Andreievich started with the thin little books on the lowest shelf.
By the time he turned 7, though, he’d moved on to the thicker books only a few shelves down from the top of the bookcases; he was now reading his mother’s more advanced (if antiquated) psychology textbooks from the late 20th century.
Another change was occurring in his life, when he turned 7. He finally changed schools from the play center to the learning center, where he would begin to learn academics.
His teachers at the learning center noticed immediately that he had special gifts, and during academic periods, he was given the tools and assignments he needed for his education to be valuable and beneficial to him.
But during the socialization and play periods, he also played with the other children and participated in all of the activities they did. It was a fact generally acknowledged that all children, regardless of their abilities, needed to socialize together in order to learn the skills necessary to socializing as adults. The play centers, which children attended from the age of 2 through the age of 6, addressed this need exclusively, teaching only basic academic skills such as counting and the alphabet. The learning centers, however, had the more difficult job of addressing both the social and the academic needs of children from 7 through 12 years old. At 13, children entered the higher learning center where the focus was on academics and there was the option of beginning to learn a trade, though social activities like dances and parades were sponsored by the school.
At age 18, through completion at any age, the student was expected to continue his or her education at the Academy level, and there were any number of Academies throughout the world which students could attend. The focus at the Academy was on learning a trade - most Academies offered more than one, though some were specialized, like Starfleet Academy. Any social activities at an Academy were created and implemented by the students themselves.
Students at an Academy were also expected to participate with taking care of the practical necessities; meals, janitorial duties, and teaching as appropriate and necessary.
But little Pavel Andreievich didn’t have to worry about that, on entering the learning center; that kind of duty was expected of adults, not children. Seven-year-olds were not expected to do anything but learn and play.
And Pavel Andreievich did both.
It was at the learning center where Pavel Andreievich discovered the two greatest loves of his whole childhood: mathematics, and running.
His teachers, impressed with his astonishing skill and reading and his eidetic memory, were shocked to learn that he knew nothing of math beyond the counting songs they sang in the play centers.
This was easily remedied, however, by giving him a beginner’s mathematics textbook PADD.
Pavel Andreievich fell in love. Happily, he would study the mathematics PADD until the wee small hours of the morning. Most nights, he was so caught up he would forget to cook dinner for himself, but that was all right; his school provided him with both breakfast and lunch and Pavel Andreievich never felt hungry.
He read through all of the text in the first PADD in less than a month, and found applying the standards and formulas in the PADD as easy as reading. He could simply recall the page that explained the necessary steps and apply those steps to the problem in front of him. By the time he left the learning center for the higher learning center he had already learned calculus, a class usually taught in the second year at the higher learning center.
Around the time Pavel Andreievich turned 8, he realized that his father blamed him for the death of his mother. He realized this when he found himself squeezing deep in the darkness underneath his bed, cradling a broken wrist and trying desperately to hide from his father, who was searching for him in order to break his other wrist.
He had the bone knitted with the laser at school, telling the nurse that he’d fallen while he was practicing running.
For, when Pavel Andreievich wasn’t studying his mathematics PADDs, he was running. He and a few of the other children in his class spent almost every outdoor free period racing each other around the big racing track. They all went to the same higher learning center at 13, and for the year that Pavel Andreievich was there with them, he was an integral part of the freshman running club.
But that was also the year that Pavel discovered physics.
Physics, of course, involving mathematics as they apply to the real world.
Pavel Andreievich fell in love all over again.
He’d always seen the beauty of numbers in a way that no one else he had ever known saw them, but now, he could see numbers everywhere he looked. The sunset, for example, was aesthetically beautiful but the equation that determined the intensity of the purple bits, for example, was just as beautiful, just as natural, to Pavel Andreievich. The papers he turned in to his physics teachers tended to reflect his idea that there was a mathematical equation to practically everything in the whole universe.
At 13, Pavel Andreievich had gotten pretty good at avoiding his father, but he was still getting caught at least once every two months, and a finger or two, or his wrist, would have to be knitted by the laser in the nurse’s office at school.
,p>So when the Starfleet recruiter came seeking applicants from the class leaving the higher learning center, he decided to take the application exam, just to see what would happen.
The recruiter was amused and thought Pavel Andreievich was adorable, so she let him sit the exam.
This was when Pavel Andreievich came to the attention of Starfleet Academy.
He was the first 13-year-old to be actively courted by Starfleet Academy. For although it wasn’t unheard-of for teenagers to start attending school at the Academy level, Starfleet simply had never encountered a 13-year-old mind that they considered developed enough to handle life at an Academy, not to mention the rigors of space travel. However, just like every other Starfleet hopeful, he sat the entrance exams. He was accepted with an eagerness that almost embarrassed him.
Pavel, who’d stopped using his patronymic soon after arriving in San Francisco, was given a private room - unheard of for a first-year cadet, but considered necessary in his case to protect him from the antics the older cadets freely indulged in outside of classes. He didn’t talk about it much for this reason - it was hard enough to make friends among the other students, all at least four years his senior, and most only half as intelligent. It was hard for Pavel to hide his intelligence in school with children his own age; impossible when he was famous for being the wunderkind accepted into the prestigious Starfleet Academy almost five years too young.
In lieu of friend, though, he had physics. Willingly, he poured himself into his studies, poring over his instructional PADDs so intently that he earned himself a meeting with a nurse at the school clinic, the upshot of which was that if he skipped any more meals, he would be assigned housing with one of the teachers ad their family.
So, taking advantage of the luxury of having a private room, he set up a very loud alarm to ring at mealtimes, so he could be sure not to miss any more meals.
He met Irina when he was fifteen, the night after he became the youngest cadet ever to win the Starfleet Academy marathon. He’d seen her before that night, as they were taking the same physics classes, and that night, she knocked on the door of his room, asking for help, saying that the Russians at the Academy had to stick together, da?
She represented the birth of his libido. Irina was a passionate woman, older than him by two or three years and thus possessing that mysterious quality only found in older women: experience. She taught him about love, bout sex, about the intense appeal of the more experienced partner.
They stayed together until her graduation, when she was assigned to a ship bound for a world due for terraforming - Irina’s specialty and passion. They exchanged letters for many months, slowly winding down to birthdays and important holidays.
A year later, Pavel Andreievich was selected by Captain Christopher Pike for service aboard the almost-completed U.S.S. Enterprise - with state-of-the-art functionality and computers.
Pavel‘s father’s entire reaction to Pavel’s news that he was going to be the lead navigator on Starfleet’s brand-new flagship was, "Calling home to brag about how good you’re doing without me, Pavel Andreievich?"
"It’s just Pavel, now, Andrei," Pavel growled, and hit the button to end the call hard.
It marked the first time since leaving for San Francisco that he’d contacted his father.
It also marked the last time he ever would.
Pavel was there for the final completion of the Enterprise; he was on the ship, in his place beside Lieutenant Sulu when the distress call from Vulcan came.
Few things were beyond Pavel Chekov’s capacity for memory. It was both a blessing and a curse that he could remember almost everything with near-perfect clarity.
A blessing because he was able to recall important facts in an instant.
And a curse, because he would never be able to forget anything that happened on the most traumatic single day of his life; the day James T. Kirk became the true - if only acting - captain of the Enterprise.
He cheered along with everyone else when Kirk was given the Enterprise as his first command. There were some cadets who questioned the decision - loudly and often - but they were mostly, Pavel decided immediately, jealous that James T. Kirk was so amazing and intelligent and clearly a leader of men. When James T. Kirk chose to keep him on as lead navigator, he was filled with even more pride than before to be serving under such a fantastic, interesting, and capable and handsome captain.
He was so busy setting up his station again, wanting everything to be perfect so he could impress Captain Kirk with his skill and competence, that he didn’t settle into his quarters properly until the third day of his first mission under Kirk. He was rooming with the fourth navigator, and since the fourth navigator took the night shift, their schedules were completely opposite; when Pavel was awake, his roommate was asleep, and vice versa.
Pavel realized immediately that he wouldn’t be able to do his blaring alarm trick to remind him to eat. He was going to have to work without a crutch for the first time in four years.
For about a month, he actually managed it, at least well enough to get by. He started to think that he wouldn’t need to worry about it again.
This, of course, was his downfall.
In the middle of his shift, directly after they were trapped inside a thick, viscous cloud, Pavel Andreievich Chekov fell out of his chair, crumpling to the floor in a dead faint.
He woke up in sickbay, with Nurse Chapel hovering over him with a sweet smile. "You gave us quite a scare, Ensign Chekov," she said in her kind but professional voice.
Pavel licked his dry lips. "What happened?" he rasped, wondering why his throat hurt.
"You tell me," came the gruff voice of Dr. Leonard McCoy, whom Pavel Chekov had been trying to avoid as the man reminded him of Andrei, for no discernible reason. “You fainted in the middle of your shift, Ensign.” His eyes were narrowed as he came over to look down at Pavel.
It struck Pavel very suddenly how good-looking the doctor was. The lines on his face, the determined set of his mouth and jaw, gave him a firm, experienced look, like a man who brooked no nonsense from anyone. Pavel ran his eyes over the slope of Dr. McCoy’s shoulders, seeing the strength there under the blue medical uniform. Dr. McCoy’s body was built to comfort distressed patients and little boys, which Pavel suddenly felt very much like.
"…were you thinking?!"
Pavel jumped. He hadn't even heard Dr. McCoy speaking, as caught up as he was with his own thoughts. "I'm sorry, sir?" he said. "What did you say?"
Dr. McCoy glared. "What. Were. You. Thinking?" he ground out.
Pavel swallowed hard, nervous about displeasing the good doctor even more. "Er. About what, doctor?"
Dr. McCoy glared harder and crossed his arms. Pavel should probably start being concerned about how attractive that was to him. "You," Dr. McCoy growled, "Have not eaten for four days."
Pavel blinked and winced. "Four days? Really?"
"Four days, Ensign. What the hell were you thinking? Or weren't you thinking at all? For God's sake, boy, aren't you supposed to be some sort of genius?"
Pavel swallowed hard again, and winced again. "You are correct, doctor, it is accurate to say that I was not thinking. I get caught up in my reading and my work, and forget to eat."
"You, you forget to eat?" Dr. McCoy glared. "It is your responsibility as an officer to keep yourself fit for duty. How did you manage four years at Starfleet?"
Pavel shrunk in on himself a little. "I had my own room at the Academy," he murmured, quite as if that explained everything.
Dr. McCoy was still glaring at him, though, and after a moment he snapped, "Dammit, Ensign, I'm a doctor, not a mind reader. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
Pavel blinked. "I set my alarm to ring at mealtimes," he said, wondering why this wasn't as obvious to the doctor as it was to him.
Dr. McCoy frowned, and then his gaze turned speculative and penetrating. "I also noticed several old breaks in the bones of your fingers and wrists, some older than others. Care to explain?"
Pavel blushed and managed to both shrink a little bit more under the covers and point his nose defiantly in the air. "I was a clumsy child," he replied with quiet dignity.
"Mmm," Dr. McCoy said. "Since you clearly can't manage your own mealtimes, I will do it for you until further notice." Dr. McCoy gave him a very stern look. "Perhaps then in the future, we'll be able to use our first navigator when we're stuck for three days in a cloud of syrup."
Pavel's eyes widened and he swallowed hard again, then gave a subdued, "Yes, sir."
Dr. McCoy gave him another hard look and then nodded. "I trust my point is made. Sleep well, Ensign." He pressed a hypospray against Pavel's neck, and Pavel knew no more.
"I need Ensign Chekov for lunch, Jim."
Pavel looked up from his station and glanced over his shoulder at the captain and the doctor in time to see the captain nodding. "Go on, Ensign."
Pavel nodded at Captain Kirk's order and stood up as his relief slipped into his vacated seat. No one was really upset with him, which was a blessing, but he was still embarrassed about the whole thing. Especially since some of the crew was treating him with kid gloves still. Sulu in particular was worried about Pavel. He'd come to Sickbay with a plateful of Pavel's favorite food, pirozhki, a savory Russian pastry. Still, Pavel was feeling guilty, which was good in his mind; the guilt was more intense than the embarrassment he felt at having to be escorted back and forth from the mess hall like an errant child. Not that he didn't deserve it… and need it, really.
"We'll go to the officer's mess," Dr. McCoy said out of the blue as Pavel joined him in the turbolift. Pavel's eyes widened; it wasn't many ensigns who got to eat in the officer's mess, even when they were lead navigator. "Don't look so surprised, Ensign," Dr. McCoy said gruffly as the turbolift move down and then to the left. "I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd said you hadn't eaten for four days because the food was inedible in the lower deck mess."
Pavel laughed in spite of himself and licked his lips. "I am sorry, Doctor," he said feelingly.
Dr. McCoy just rolled his eyes. "That's enough of that nonsense," he groused. "It's as easy for me to keep track of your eating habits as it is to keep track of the captain's." He snorted. "Easier, actually, since at least you don't put up much resistance to me."
Pavel blushed a deep, deep red, earning himself a knowing smirk from the doctor. Did the doctor know that Pavel had been nursing a crush on him for the past few days? Fervently, Pavel hoped his efforts to keep it a secret had not been in vain. "What would resisting do? I'm sure that you'd just tie me to the chair." He felt his cheeks heating up again and his eyes widened - how could he have said that? Sometimes, he just didn't feel very smart at all.
The doctor's answering smile was forming slowly, and there was a predatory sort of look in his eyes that sent rather a thrill through Pavel. "Tie you to the chair, hmm?" he mused. His voice was rougher than usual and Pavel swallowed hard. Was he ever going to be able to stop blushing? "And what would happen after that?"
Pavel blinked. Did Dr. McCoy really ask him…? "I, I don't… know…" he swallowed hard when Dr. McCoy hit the button to stop the turbolift. "What would you do?" he said, more bravely than he felt. He was proud when his voice didn't tremble in the slightest.
Dr. McCoy smirked and stepped a little closer, right into Pavel's personal space, warming the whole turbolift. Their mouths were just a few breaths apart, and Pavel licked his lips instinctively. Dr. McCoy's eyes dropped to his mouth. "How old are you again, kid?"
"I'm 17, sir," Pavel said breathlessly. Why did that matter?
Dr. McCoy sighed a little. "17." He sighed again and shook his head, stepping back. Pavel immediately felt colder, and he almost stepped closer to Dr. McCoy, but then the turbolift doors opened and it was time to eat.
Pavel loved the way that he felt when he was with Dr. McCoy: it was like he was 12 years old again, being taken care of like a child - but his feelings for the doctor were decidedly adult, as were the thoughts in his brain when he had his hand curled around his cock every night.
The thoughts were arousing - terribly arousing, really, and Pavel had to be careful what he thought about when he was in public - but sort of… vague. Pavel suspected it had to do with the fact that he'd never been with a man before, and hadn't really thought about men in a sexual way before Dr. McCoy, though now that he'd noticed Dr. McCoy he was definitely noticing all of the other men on the ship.
But he always came back to Dr. McCoy, especially after he was able to snitch one of the doctor's handkerchiefs from his pocket. The handkerchief smelled like the doctor, and Pavel held it to his nose every night when he stroked himself off. More than once, too, he spent his breaks during the work day (except lunch, of course) wanking in his quarters - quietly, so his roommate wouldn't hear.
After a time, Dr. McCoy backed off of the lunches. He started dropping Pavel off in the officer's mess and heading back to his sickbay to do the boring bits of being CMO, which left Pavel feeling rather depressed. He wondered if Dr. McCoy was really trying to make sure Pave l could take care of himself - or if the good doctor just wanted to distance himself from the boy he considered too young, after that moment in the elevator, which Pavel had figured out meant that Dr. McCoy was attracted to him.
He wished he was the sort to go and just grab Dr. McCoy and kiss him, hard and hungry, but that wasn't Pavel's style. Pavel didn't really have a style. Irina had been the aggressor between them, and that was Pavel's only real experience with relationships.
So Pavel ate lunch by itself, though it was very lonely and boring without Dr. McCoy's gruff, no-nonsense wit and charm. He took to bringing along the service manual for his computer station, which he hadn't bothered with reading before since the computer station seemed rather straightforward, but soon he was engrossed in that. He was careful at first to make sure he ate his meal before he started reading.
Soon, though, he was reading and eating at the same time, and not just his manual now but his favorite quantum physics textbooks PADD and a PADD with the new math being developed on Vulcan.
After that, it was only a matter of time before he found himself back in sickbay, feeling weak, because he'd forget to eat while he was reading.
Dr. McCoy was - to say the least - furious with him, and he ordered Pavel off his shift and to stay in sickbay until they could figure out a way to fix the problem.
Pavel knew then that there was more than just his relationship with the crew at stake - his whole career was in jeopardy, all because he got so easily distracted. He didn't know how to fix the problem on his own, though, and he spent several frustrated hours in Dr. McCoy's office talking about it, about how this all came to be, his relationship with his father and everything that had happened to him when he was a child. He could see the anger growing in Dr. McCoy's eyes, and he flinched from it, though part of him suspected that the anger was directed at Andrei, and not at Pavel.
That night, the night of the day he finally confessed his past to Starfleet, and to Dr. McCoy, he barely slept an hour. Like most 17 year old boys would, Pavel turned to wanking to satisfy himself and hopefully make him pleasantly sleepy. He still had possession of Dr. McCoy's handkerchief, and he pulled it out, sniffing deeply. The scent was almost gone by now but the memory of the scent was enough, and Pavel moaned, eagerly curling his hand around his eager prick.
He still could not properly imagine what it would be like to make love with a man, but it was enough for now to imagine Dr. McCoy's weight on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress, hard and heavy and holding Pavel firmly in place. He moaned and bit his lip to keep from getting louder as he imagined himself under Dr. McCoy, the doctor's voice rumbling in his ear as he was fucked, fucked hard, telling him he was filthy and naughty and wanted--
Pavel came so hard he almost sobbed, rubbing himself frantically and catching the hot stream of come in his hand. "Doctor!" he moaned loudly, panting as he slumped back against the pillows, feeling too happy and sated to move at the moment. Seeing nothing else for it, he lifted his hand to his mouth to lick his come from his fingers.
He was just finishing up when he heard someone's throat clearing, and he froze. "That was quite the show," Dr. McCoy said roughly, moving closer to the sickbay cot. Pavel swallowed hard. "Quite the show," Dr. McCoy repeated, and there was something enticingly malevolent in his voice.
Pavel drew in a deep, shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, to try to defend himself, to say something, anything, only Dr. McCoy shook his head, giving Pavel a stern look, and Pavel closed his mouth right away, feeling young and small.
The handkerchief was plucked from Pavel's stiff fingers. "This is my handkerchief." Dr. McCoy narrowed his eyes and then got the same look on his face that Pavel had when he was trying to figure out a particularly challenging equation. "You were masturbating using my handkerchief," Dr. McCoy said, sounding surprised, wondering.
How was it that the doctor could make such a clinical term sound so hot? Pavel shifted, feeling his cock harden again despite the circumstances, and then gasped when he realized his cock was still hanging out of his sickbay pajamas. Luckily, he was covered by the sheet, but he was mortified nevertheless.
"Well?" the doctor said in a prompting tone, and Pavel blinked, not realizing that he had gotten lost in his thoughts again.
"I'm sorry, doctor, I didn't hear what you said," Pavel murmured, feeling his own cheeks quite flushed with his embarrassment.
The doctor glared at him. "Where did you get my handkerchief, Ensign Chekov?"
Pavel shivered at Dr. McCoy's tone and swallowed hard. He had a feeling that a lie would just make the doctor even more angry, so he admitted the truth. "It was in your pocket, and I…" Pavel swallowed hard and hid his hands under himself in an instinctive gesture. "I took it."
"You stole my handkerchief from me?" the doctor asked, but oddly he sounded more pensive than angry. "I think I've figured out what your problem is." Pavel's eyes widened: it was impossible to mistake that husky tone and look in Dr. McCoy's eyes for anything but arousal. The doctor stepped closer, and then closer still, until all of a sudden he was bending over Pavel, staring down at him hungrily. "What you really need is to be taken in hand, isn't it? Like the little boy that you are."
Pavel blinked. "W-what?" he breathed.
Dr. McCoy nodded, clearly certain of himself. "You are a little boy." His eyes flicked down to Pavel's cock under the sheet, and Pavel blushed. "And you're going to be my little boy, and you'll do as I say, is that clear?"
Pavel wanted to protest, but he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't be a lie. His mouth dry, a lump in his throat, he just nodded.
The doctor nodded again, too. "Then when you're healed again, you'll move in with me, and when we're alone, you'll be my obedient little boy, won't you?"
A deep, shuddery breath, and Pavel nodded, eyes wide, cock aching, rubbing now against the smooth, cool sheets, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than for Dr. McCoy to pull off the sheets, lay down on top of him, and do to him what men did.
"Then that's settled," the doctor said. "You'll live with me when you're a healthy boy again." He turned and headed for his office, though he turned back long enough to say wickedly, "And you are not to touch your naughty little prick again, Pavel Chekov."
It was only a couple of days before Pavel Chekov was back on duty. There was less concern this time, and more annoyance, which was only to be expected, really, but it wasn't easy to deal with, and by the time Pavel's shift ended he was achingly tired.
Out of habit, he headed straight for his own quarters. He hadn't forgotten about what Dr. McCoy had said about going to live with him once he was healthy again, but the doctor hadn't said anything more about it since that night, so Pavel wasn't sure that Dr. McCoy hadn't been reacting to his own arousal at catching Pavel wanking with the doctor's name on his lips. Pavel had been a good boy, anyway, and had eaten properly and hadn't touched himself - that was the hardest part. At 17, without an outlet, the urge to masturbate was nearly irresistible, but Pavel very much wanted to be a good boy - if Dr. McCoy meant what he said, anyway.
Soon enough, the turbolift reached Pavel's deck, and he turned out of the turbolift bay. His jaw nearly dropped when he saw Dr. McCoy waiting at the doors to his quarters. "Oh! You're… you're here!" He couldn't quite keep the thrilled little smile from his face.
D. McCoy shrugged. "I thought you might come down here to get some things - I assume you haven't forgotten your orders - so I decided to wait for you here. But I've moved your things up to my quarters, so turn your little ass around and get right back on the turbolift."
Pavel blinked and swallows hard. "Y-yes, Dr. McCoy," he said obediently, and turned right back around to get on the turbolift, feeling a thrill go straight through him to his suddenly eager cock. Dr. McCoy followed behind him.
The moment the turbolift doors closed Pavel found himself pressed up against them, his eyes wide. "Dr. McCoy!"
Dr. McCoy shook his head and kissed Pavel hard, punishingly. "When we're alone, little boy, I'm your Daddy, I'm not Dr. McCoy, is that clear?"
Pavel moaned and tried not to rub against Dr. McCoy's hard thigh, but it was too tempting to resist for long. "Yes, sir," he panted, arms going around Dr. McCoy's neck.
Dr. McCoy growled and smacked Pavel's thigh, and though it stung a bit it only made Pavel harder. He groaned out loud and almost missed the doctor's words. "Say it, little boy, call me Daddy!"
"Daddy!" Pavel cried, and suddenly Dr. McCoy was his Daddy, and Pavel was nothing but a naughty little boy, and he could feel his hips working, rubbing off against Daddy's hard thigh and making the neediest noises he'd ever heard. "Daddy!" he cried again.
Daddy smacked Pavel's thigh again and Pavel yelped his pleasure at the stinging strike, and then Daddy's hands were stilling his hips and Pavel couldn't rub anymore! "Daddy!" he whimpered plaintively, only for Daddy to turn him around and smack his naughty bottom hard.
"Behave yourself, Pavel!" Daddy ordered. "This is our secret, no one can know I'm your Daddy, Ensign!"
Pavel pouted but tried to calm down. He licked his lips and nodded, looking up at Daddy through his lashes, trying to smooth curls that were in disarray. "S-sorry, Daddy," he breathed.
Daddy moaned, staring down at Pavel and then pulling him into a hungry, eager kiss, breaking off the moment before the turbolift doors slid open. Pavel was very glad there was no one in the hallway, because he knew his hard little prick was easy to see as a bulge underneath his uniform.
He was also glad for empty hallways because it meant that Daddy could hold his hand as they walked down the hall. Daddy didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry now, though, which was frustrating; Pavel's prick was aching. Walking the ten meters from the turbolift to Daddy's quarters was sheer torture, but the real torture came after the door to Daddy's quarters slid closed, because all Daddy did was sit down behind his computer.
Pavel fidgeted a little bit. "Should I go unpack, Daddy?" he asked quietly, nervously.
But Daddy shook his head. "No, Pavel. You may sit and have a cup of cocoa while Daddy finishes his work."
Pavel swallowed hard and nodded and headed over to the replicator, ordering himself a hot cocoa. He made his way over to the sofa and started to sit, but stopped at a stern look from his Daddy.
"No, no, Pavel, little boys sit on Daddy's lap, not by themselves on the sofa." Daddy patted his lap and Pavel grinned shyly and went over, slipping down sideways on Daddy's lap. He rubbed a little against Daddy's hard prick and got a smack on the thigh for his trouble, so he tried to concentrate on drinking his hot cocoa, and not on either of the hard pricks nearby.
He was almost asleep by the time Daddy finally finished his work, but he woke up when Daddy nudged him from his comfortable, warm, hard perch. "It's time for our shower, and then bed," Daddy said, and Pavel knew by the look in Daddy's eyes that sleep was not the first thing on the menu once they got into bed. His prick hardened again eagerly.
"Shower together, Daddy?" Pavel asked, following Daddy into the bathroom.
"Yes, little boy, we'll shower together and I'll make sure you're nice and clean, and then you can masturbate while I clean myself." Daddy smirked at him and Pavel made a soft eager noise, the same noise he made the first time he'd had sex with Irina.
Daddy started the water going and Pavel sighed a little, grateful for the chance to take a proper shower and not the sonic shower down in his own - his old - quarters. The washcloth Daddy used to scrub him was very nubbly and he moaned softly when Daddy cleaned his prick with it, the soap making him extra sensitive. Daddy's fingers in his hair felt very good, too, and soon Pavel was as relaxed as he ever had been.
"All finished," Daddy said, though as far as Pavel was concerned it came far too soon. "Little boys sit on the floor while Daddy's busy," Daddy ordered sternly, giving him a hard look, and Pavel slid to the floor of the shower, scooting into a corner. Down here, Daddy's cock was right in his face and he could see how large and beautiful and perfect it was, and, making that needy noise again, he curled his hand around his cock, stroking hard. Above him, Daddy chuckled and started washing himself, some of the soapy suds slipping down and landing on Pavel's furiously-stroking hand. "Don't come until Daddy gives you permission, Pavel."
To Pavel's humiliation, he actually whimpered with desperation at the idea that he might not get to come tonight. He stared hard at Daddy's thick cock, at the way the water ran off in a stream at the tip. He wanted to lean forward and lick Daddy's cock like a Daddy-flavored lollipop. "Daddy, please!" he begged, tugging at his little prick needily. Daddy just patted his head affectionately and Pavel positively whined. "Daddy, Daddy!" Pavel panted. "I need it!" he cried, tugging his prick sharply but only every few seconds, almost sobbing. "Daddy, please, please, please, I need to co-o-ome," he begged helplessly, sounding more and more like the little boy he really was at heart with every panting, hungry breath.
Daddy chuckled again and nudged Pavel's prick with his big toe, causing Pavel to gasp and make a particularly humiliating keening sound. "No, not yet," Daddy decided, and Pavel gasped out loud and couldn't help but rub himself a little bit harder at that, at being denied his treat by his Daddy. "Little boys don't usually need to come very often, so you can wait - oh, Pavel!" Daddy clucked his tongue and handed Pavel the soapy washcloth. Pavel blinked at it; he hadn't come yet, so he didn't know what it was for. "Your little prick is leaking, naughty, filthy little boy, clean yourself thoroughly!"
"Daddy!" Pavel begged, but already he was curling the soapy washcloth around his need prick, hoping Daddy wouldn't make him clean it for too long since his cock was already so sensitive and the soap would make it even more sensitive.
Daddy washed his hair, ignoring Pavel's pleas to him to be allowed to come, even when Pavel switched to Russian in his needy haze. Every now and then again he'd pat Pavel's hair like an affectionate Daddy should do to his little boy. "Good boy!" Daddy praised him, "Since you're being so very, very obedient, you may come!" Daddy said with a smirk, and Pavel positively screamed as he came all over himself and the shower. Daddy laughed and rinsed the come from the floor and the walls, then rinsed Pavel clean again and turned off the hot water after he rinsed the soap from Pavel's cock and hands. "Now, let's go to bed, and Daddy will make you feel very, very good."
Pavel nodded eagerly and followed Daddy into the bedroom. "Please, Daddy, will you let me come again?"
Daddy stopped in his tracks and turned around to glare at Pavel sternly. "Little boys don't ask questions like that or they get a spanking. The only time you ask to come is if you really, really need it, understand?"
The thought made him shiver - he wasn't supposed to even ask about coming unless he really needed to? How cruel his Daddy was, and yet how kind to let him come in the shower, and hadn't his father been so much crueler! Pavel nodded obediently, contrite and ashamed to have thought his Daddy cruel. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he whispered. It was nice to have a Daddy who would really take proper care of him, for the first time in a very long time.
Daddy nodded and led him over to the bed, laying him down gently. "Now spread your legs for Daddy," came the order, and Pavel bit his lip and spread his legs wide, feeling exposed and very naughty indeed.
"Like this, Daddy?" he asked uncertainly, and relaxed when Daddy nodded.
He tensed and cried out again immediately when Daddy bent down and started licking his asshole. "Daddy!" he screamed loudly. "No, Daddy, it's dirty, please!" Pavel whimpered even as he thrust against Daddy's hot, wet tongue all over his sensitive hole.
Daddy laughed. "No, little boy, I just cleaned you here quite thoroughly," he promised, and then went right back to licking Pavel's hole like it was the tastiest treat.
Pavel cried out and thrust frantically against Daddy's tongue, clenching his fingers in the bedclothes to keep from touching his cock as he suspected that Daddy would not be pleased if he came again just now. "Please Daddy, please, it's so good, please, I need to co-o-ome!"
"Not yet, little boy," Daddy said, chuckling again roughly. "I'm going to open up your ass with my fingers now and then put my cock inside you, and once I'm inside you, little boy, you can come and come as much as you need to." Daddy bent to his task again, licking and licking and driving Pavel crazy, only this time he added a finger slicked with lubricant as well, thrusting his finger firmly into Pavel's virgin ass.
Pavel cried out eagerly. "Daddy, Daddy, that's, I'm so full inside, please, more, pleeeease, fill me up!" Pavel begged, switching to Russian accidentally on the last bit and not even hearing himself as he begged.
Daddy seemed to understand, though, and he laughed at Pavel. "Oh, I'll fill you up," Daddy promised, and kissed him hard, pressing a second finger inside Pavel.
Gasping, Pavel thrust hard on Daddy's fingers, eyes wide and sightless in his needy arousal. "Daddy, Daddy!" He moaned, feeling every moment of it, of his ass being gently urged open by Daddy's thick, thick fingers, understanding now that he was being prepared to take Daddy's thick, thick cock. "Please, soon, in me, Daddy? Please?"
"Oh yes," Daddy growled his agreement and Pavel let out a needy little whine. "Very soon, little boy." Daddy kissed him hard and pulled his fingers from Pavel's ass, but before Pavel could even squeak a protest, Daddy's cock was inside him, filling him in a way that Pavel had never been filled before, and it felt so right, and it was right, he was always supposed to be right here, under Daddy, pinned by Daddy's weight and Daddy's need and Daddy's cock thrusting and rubbing over that sensitive little gland inside his ass.
"Daddy!" he screamed, and came hard the moment Daddy's cock was fully inside his ass. He was still hard, though, even after coming twice, and he knew he was going to come one more time when Daddy did. He wanted that more than anything, more than his own coming, he wanted Daddy's come inside him, and so instinctively he clenched his ass as hard as he could around Daddy's cock and eagerly met the rough thrust of Daddy's hips with the rough thrust of his own.
Daddy screamed out loud and brought his hand down sharply on Pavel's thigh. "Fuck, good little boy, do that again!" Daddy snapped, and Pavel did, tightening his ass and moaning loudly. Daddy groaned, a guttural sort of sound, and started thrusting even harder, even faster.
Pavel screamed again, needily. "Daddy, Daddy, come, please fill me up with your come, pleeeease!" He panted and gasped for breath, feeling tears in his eyes and on his cheeks.
"Yes, yes, Pavel!" Daddy came hard inside him and Pavel screamed one more time and came hard all over his belly and Daddy's. He wrapped himself around Daddy, arms and legs both, and clung desperately, shivering.
"Daddy, Daddy," he whimpered, kissing and kissing, totally spent.
Daddy's hand came up to stroke his hair. "Good boy, you're a very good little boy," Daddy praised, and kissed him, unaccountably sweetly. "You're Daddy's good little boy," Daddy promised, and hearing it, Pavel shivered and whimpered softly and clung to him even harder, rubbing their cheeks together.
A sudden yawn split Pavel's face in two and Daddy chuckled roughly. "Poor little lad, I've tuckered you out." Daddy slid his cock from Pavel's ass and Pavel mewled a sleepy protest, but Daddy just cuddled him close and pulled the covers over them. "It's time for little boys to go to sleep, Pavel," Daddy said.
Pavel nodded and leaned up to kiss Daddy on the cheek. "I love you, Daddy," Pavel said in a little boy voice, then yawned again with a little squeak and dropped off to sleep to the feeling of Daddy stroking his fingertips over and over Pavel's smooth cheek.
Author: isidore13
Pairing: McCoy/Chekov
Written For: eldritchhorrors
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7589
Disclaimer: Not mine in any conceivable way.
Warnings: Highlight if you want to know: **in no particular order: slight humiliation, mention of a het relationship (not explicit, TOS canon but not necessarily ST:XI canon), angst, totally consensual daddy issues kink, rimming, slash (buttsecks)**
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t here because his childhood had been idyllic.
Notes: So sorry for the late posting, eldritchhorrors; I hope you enjoy it!
Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t here because his childhood had been idyllic. Even kids with genius IQ levels will tend to stay home rather than join an adult organization, where they will knowingly be surrounded by people who’ll either resent their intelligence or pretend it isn’t real.
That is, they’ll stay home if their home life is even a little bit less than completely awful.
Pavel Andreievich Chekov’s could not be viewed that way. Not that he’d ever told anyone about it. Or ever would, if he could help it.
During the first four years of his life, Pavel Andreievich had been deeply, deeply loved by both of his parents. He could remember his mother cuddling him close while she read her psychology books, and his father playing football with him in the backyard, teaching him how to kick the ball with the side of his foot.
On Pavel Andreievich’s fifth birthday, his mother had gone out to get frosting for his birthday cake, which she’d forgotten the day before.
She never came back home.
Though he was only five years old, Pavel Andreievich had been showing signs of his impressive intelligence since birth. He understood what the police detective meant when he told Andrei that Pavel Andreievich’s mother had died instantly after her car was struck and shoved into the wall of the shopping center.
What he didn’t understand at the time - and, really, still understood on only the most superficial of levels as he matured - was how his father reacted to the loss of his wife.
At first, Andrei drew into himself, sitting in the family space for hours, days, with a bottle in his lap, watching the family view screen, running through all of the files that had any kind of image or sound of Pavel Andreievich’s mother. He often forgot to make dinner for himself and Pavel Andreievich, and as a result, Pavel would have to scrounge for whatever was available - replicators were too expensive to keep in private homes, so Pavel would have to make do with the produce delivery of the week, and sometimes he could find a packet of crackers to fill out his night time meal.
Once - only once, and never again after that - Pavel Andreievich tried to climb up into his father’s lap so they could watch his mother together, as he felt he wanted to watch his mum, too. He’d even brought along a banana for his father to eat. But Andrei just grunted and shoved little Pavel Andreievich to the floor.
So Pavel Andreievich was left to find his own comfort. Being the smart little boy he was, he turned to his data PADDs to look at the pictures of bunnies and birds and cats and frogs. Soon enough he was sounding out the letters in the text parts as well as he could. He practiced it all the time, calling up pictures of each page of the story in his little brain and taking each letter by itself, until he was able to recite the whole story.
He never thought it strange that he only had to look at a story once to be able to recall the entire thing, down the slightly out-of-place slash mark on page six of Bunny Rabbit Jingles and the missing period at the end of page eight of Miss Anna’s Spaceship Adventures.
To little Pavel Andreievich, the two weeks it took to learn all of the stories on each of his little library of children’s data PADDS seemed to stretch out forever - but after that, there was nothing left for Pavel Andreievich to read, and Andrei was still too sad to pay attention enough to buy new stories for Pavel Andreievich’s data PADDs.
But soon enough, Pavel Andreievich remembered that his mother’s office was full of books. They were all big books, but that didn’t matter to Pavel Andreievich - after all, he could look at the page and memorize the words on it, and then recall an exact picture of the page to read later in his head.
All that being said, Pavel Andreievich wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the really big books - his mother had preferred to read old books in the original, thick, hard-back copy-bound style, so her study was actually full of bookcases - a rare thing to find in a private house. So Pavel Andreievich started with the thin little books on the lowest shelf.
By the time he turned 7, though, he’d moved on to the thicker books only a few shelves down from the top of the bookcases; he was now reading his mother’s more advanced (if antiquated) psychology textbooks from the late 20th century.
Another change was occurring in his life, when he turned 7. He finally changed schools from the play center to the learning center, where he would begin to learn academics.
His teachers at the learning center noticed immediately that he had special gifts, and during academic periods, he was given the tools and assignments he needed for his education to be valuable and beneficial to him.
But during the socialization and play periods, he also played with the other children and participated in all of the activities they did. It was a fact generally acknowledged that all children, regardless of their abilities, needed to socialize together in order to learn the skills necessary to socializing as adults. The play centers, which children attended from the age of 2 through the age of 6, addressed this need exclusively, teaching only basic academic skills such as counting and the alphabet. The learning centers, however, had the more difficult job of addressing both the social and the academic needs of children from 7 through 12 years old. At 13, children entered the higher learning center where the focus was on academics and there was the option of beginning to learn a trade, though social activities like dances and parades were sponsored by the school.
At age 18, through completion at any age, the student was expected to continue his or her education at the Academy level, and there were any number of Academies throughout the world which students could attend. The focus at the Academy was on learning a trade - most Academies offered more than one, though some were specialized, like Starfleet Academy. Any social activities at an Academy were created and implemented by the students themselves.
Students at an Academy were also expected to participate with taking care of the practical necessities; meals, janitorial duties, and teaching as appropriate and necessary.
But little Pavel Andreievich didn’t have to worry about that, on entering the learning center; that kind of duty was expected of adults, not children. Seven-year-olds were not expected to do anything but learn and play.
And Pavel Andreievich did both.
It was at the learning center where Pavel Andreievich discovered the two greatest loves of his whole childhood: mathematics, and running.
His teachers, impressed with his astonishing skill and reading and his eidetic memory, were shocked to learn that he knew nothing of math beyond the counting songs they sang in the play centers.
This was easily remedied, however, by giving him a beginner’s mathematics textbook PADD.
Pavel Andreievich fell in love. Happily, he would study the mathematics PADD until the wee small hours of the morning. Most nights, he was so caught up he would forget to cook dinner for himself, but that was all right; his school provided him with both breakfast and lunch and Pavel Andreievich never felt hungry.
He read through all of the text in the first PADD in less than a month, and found applying the standards and formulas in the PADD as easy as reading. He could simply recall the page that explained the necessary steps and apply those steps to the problem in front of him. By the time he left the learning center for the higher learning center he had already learned calculus, a class usually taught in the second year at the higher learning center.
Around the time Pavel Andreievich turned 8, he realized that his father blamed him for the death of his mother. He realized this when he found himself squeezing deep in the darkness underneath his bed, cradling a broken wrist and trying desperately to hide from his father, who was searching for him in order to break his other wrist.
He had the bone knitted with the laser at school, telling the nurse that he’d fallen while he was practicing running.
For, when Pavel Andreievich wasn’t studying his mathematics PADDs, he was running. He and a few of the other children in his class spent almost every outdoor free period racing each other around the big racing track. They all went to the same higher learning center at 13, and for the year that Pavel Andreievich was there with them, he was an integral part of the freshman running club.
But that was also the year that Pavel discovered physics.
Physics, of course, involving mathematics as they apply to the real world.
Pavel Andreievich fell in love all over again.
He’d always seen the beauty of numbers in a way that no one else he had ever known saw them, but now, he could see numbers everywhere he looked. The sunset, for example, was aesthetically beautiful but the equation that determined the intensity of the purple bits, for example, was just as beautiful, just as natural, to Pavel Andreievich. The papers he turned in to his physics teachers tended to reflect his idea that there was a mathematical equation to practically everything in the whole universe.
At 13, Pavel Andreievich had gotten pretty good at avoiding his father, but he was still getting caught at least once every two months, and a finger or two, or his wrist, would have to be knitted by the laser in the nurse’s office at school.
,p>So when the Starfleet recruiter came seeking applicants from the class leaving the higher learning center, he decided to take the application exam, just to see what would happen.
The recruiter was amused and thought Pavel Andreievich was adorable, so she let him sit the exam.
This was when Pavel Andreievich came to the attention of Starfleet Academy.
He was the first 13-year-old to be actively courted by Starfleet Academy. For although it wasn’t unheard-of for teenagers to start attending school at the Academy level, Starfleet simply had never encountered a 13-year-old mind that they considered developed enough to handle life at an Academy, not to mention the rigors of space travel. However, just like every other Starfleet hopeful, he sat the entrance exams. He was accepted with an eagerness that almost embarrassed him.
Pavel, who’d stopped using his patronymic soon after arriving in San Francisco, was given a private room - unheard of for a first-year cadet, but considered necessary in his case to protect him from the antics the older cadets freely indulged in outside of classes. He didn’t talk about it much for this reason - it was hard enough to make friends among the other students, all at least four years his senior, and most only half as intelligent. It was hard for Pavel to hide his intelligence in school with children his own age; impossible when he was famous for being the wunderkind accepted into the prestigious Starfleet Academy almost five years too young.
In lieu of friend, though, he had physics. Willingly, he poured himself into his studies, poring over his instructional PADDs so intently that he earned himself a meeting with a nurse at the school clinic, the upshot of which was that if he skipped any more meals, he would be assigned housing with one of the teachers ad their family.
So, taking advantage of the luxury of having a private room, he set up a very loud alarm to ring at mealtimes, so he could be sure not to miss any more meals.
He met Irina when he was fifteen, the night after he became the youngest cadet ever to win the Starfleet Academy marathon. He’d seen her before that night, as they were taking the same physics classes, and that night, she knocked on the door of his room, asking for help, saying that the Russians at the Academy had to stick together, da?
She represented the birth of his libido. Irina was a passionate woman, older than him by two or three years and thus possessing that mysterious quality only found in older women: experience. She taught him about love, bout sex, about the intense appeal of the more experienced partner.
They stayed together until her graduation, when she was assigned to a ship bound for a world due for terraforming - Irina’s specialty and passion. They exchanged letters for many months, slowly winding down to birthdays and important holidays.
A year later, Pavel Andreievich was selected by Captain Christopher Pike for service aboard the almost-completed U.S.S. Enterprise - with state-of-the-art functionality and computers.
Pavel‘s father’s entire reaction to Pavel’s news that he was going to be the lead navigator on Starfleet’s brand-new flagship was, "Calling home to brag about how good you’re doing without me, Pavel Andreievich?"
"It’s just Pavel, now, Andrei," Pavel growled, and hit the button to end the call hard.
It marked the first time since leaving for San Francisco that he’d contacted his father.
It also marked the last time he ever would.
Pavel was there for the final completion of the Enterprise; he was on the ship, in his place beside Lieutenant Sulu when the distress call from Vulcan came.
Few things were beyond Pavel Chekov’s capacity for memory. It was both a blessing and a curse that he could remember almost everything with near-perfect clarity.
A blessing because he was able to recall important facts in an instant.
And a curse, because he would never be able to forget anything that happened on the most traumatic single day of his life; the day James T. Kirk became the true - if only acting - captain of the Enterprise.
He cheered along with everyone else when Kirk was given the Enterprise as his first command. There were some cadets who questioned the decision - loudly and often - but they were mostly, Pavel decided immediately, jealous that James T. Kirk was so amazing and intelligent and clearly a leader of men. When James T. Kirk chose to keep him on as lead navigator, he was filled with even more pride than before to be serving under such a fantastic, interesting, and capable and handsome captain.
He was so busy setting up his station again, wanting everything to be perfect so he could impress Captain Kirk with his skill and competence, that he didn’t settle into his quarters properly until the third day of his first mission under Kirk. He was rooming with the fourth navigator, and since the fourth navigator took the night shift, their schedules were completely opposite; when Pavel was awake, his roommate was asleep, and vice versa.
Pavel realized immediately that he wouldn’t be able to do his blaring alarm trick to remind him to eat. He was going to have to work without a crutch for the first time in four years.
For about a month, he actually managed it, at least well enough to get by. He started to think that he wouldn’t need to worry about it again.
This, of course, was his downfall.
In the middle of his shift, directly after they were trapped inside a thick, viscous cloud, Pavel Andreievich Chekov fell out of his chair, crumpling to the floor in a dead faint.
He woke up in sickbay, with Nurse Chapel hovering over him with a sweet smile. "You gave us quite a scare, Ensign Chekov," she said in her kind but professional voice.
Pavel licked his dry lips. "What happened?" he rasped, wondering why his throat hurt.
"You tell me," came the gruff voice of Dr. Leonard McCoy, whom Pavel Chekov had been trying to avoid as the man reminded him of Andrei, for no discernible reason. “You fainted in the middle of your shift, Ensign.” His eyes were narrowed as he came over to look down at Pavel.
It struck Pavel very suddenly how good-looking the doctor was. The lines on his face, the determined set of his mouth and jaw, gave him a firm, experienced look, like a man who brooked no nonsense from anyone. Pavel ran his eyes over the slope of Dr. McCoy’s shoulders, seeing the strength there under the blue medical uniform. Dr. McCoy’s body was built to comfort distressed patients and little boys, which Pavel suddenly felt very much like.
"…were you thinking?!"
Pavel jumped. He hadn't even heard Dr. McCoy speaking, as caught up as he was with his own thoughts. "I'm sorry, sir?" he said. "What did you say?"
Dr. McCoy glared. "What. Were. You. Thinking?" he ground out.
Pavel swallowed hard, nervous about displeasing the good doctor even more. "Er. About what, doctor?"
Dr. McCoy glared harder and crossed his arms. Pavel should probably start being concerned about how attractive that was to him. "You," Dr. McCoy growled, "Have not eaten for four days."
Pavel blinked and winced. "Four days? Really?"
"Four days, Ensign. What the hell were you thinking? Or weren't you thinking at all? For God's sake, boy, aren't you supposed to be some sort of genius?"
Pavel swallowed hard again, and winced again. "You are correct, doctor, it is accurate to say that I was not thinking. I get caught up in my reading and my work, and forget to eat."
"You, you forget to eat?" Dr. McCoy glared. "It is your responsibility as an officer to keep yourself fit for duty. How did you manage four years at Starfleet?"
Pavel shrunk in on himself a little. "I had my own room at the Academy," he murmured, quite as if that explained everything.
Dr. McCoy was still glaring at him, though, and after a moment he snapped, "Dammit, Ensign, I'm a doctor, not a mind reader. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
Pavel blinked. "I set my alarm to ring at mealtimes," he said, wondering why this wasn't as obvious to the doctor as it was to him.
Dr. McCoy frowned, and then his gaze turned speculative and penetrating. "I also noticed several old breaks in the bones of your fingers and wrists, some older than others. Care to explain?"
Pavel blushed and managed to both shrink a little bit more under the covers and point his nose defiantly in the air. "I was a clumsy child," he replied with quiet dignity.
"Mmm," Dr. McCoy said. "Since you clearly can't manage your own mealtimes, I will do it for you until further notice." Dr. McCoy gave him a very stern look. "Perhaps then in the future, we'll be able to use our first navigator when we're stuck for three days in a cloud of syrup."
Pavel's eyes widened and he swallowed hard again, then gave a subdued, "Yes, sir."
Dr. McCoy gave him another hard look and then nodded. "I trust my point is made. Sleep well, Ensign." He pressed a hypospray against Pavel's neck, and Pavel knew no more.
"I need Ensign Chekov for lunch, Jim."
Pavel looked up from his station and glanced over his shoulder at the captain and the doctor in time to see the captain nodding. "Go on, Ensign."
Pavel nodded at Captain Kirk's order and stood up as his relief slipped into his vacated seat. No one was really upset with him, which was a blessing, but he was still embarrassed about the whole thing. Especially since some of the crew was treating him with kid gloves still. Sulu in particular was worried about Pavel. He'd come to Sickbay with a plateful of Pavel's favorite food, pirozhki, a savory Russian pastry. Still, Pavel was feeling guilty, which was good in his mind; the guilt was more intense than the embarrassment he felt at having to be escorted back and forth from the mess hall like an errant child. Not that he didn't deserve it… and need it, really.
"We'll go to the officer's mess," Dr. McCoy said out of the blue as Pavel joined him in the turbolift. Pavel's eyes widened; it wasn't many ensigns who got to eat in the officer's mess, even when they were lead navigator. "Don't look so surprised, Ensign," Dr. McCoy said gruffly as the turbolift move down and then to the left. "I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd said you hadn't eaten for four days because the food was inedible in the lower deck mess."
Pavel laughed in spite of himself and licked his lips. "I am sorry, Doctor," he said feelingly.
Dr. McCoy just rolled his eyes. "That's enough of that nonsense," he groused. "It's as easy for me to keep track of your eating habits as it is to keep track of the captain's." He snorted. "Easier, actually, since at least you don't put up much resistance to me."
Pavel blushed a deep, deep red, earning himself a knowing smirk from the doctor. Did the doctor know that Pavel had been nursing a crush on him for the past few days? Fervently, Pavel hoped his efforts to keep it a secret had not been in vain. "What would resisting do? I'm sure that you'd just tie me to the chair." He felt his cheeks heating up again and his eyes widened - how could he have said that? Sometimes, he just didn't feel very smart at all.
The doctor's answering smile was forming slowly, and there was a predatory sort of look in his eyes that sent rather a thrill through Pavel. "Tie you to the chair, hmm?" he mused. His voice was rougher than usual and Pavel swallowed hard. Was he ever going to be able to stop blushing? "And what would happen after that?"
Pavel blinked. Did Dr. McCoy really ask him…? "I, I don't… know…" he swallowed hard when Dr. McCoy hit the button to stop the turbolift. "What would you do?" he said, more bravely than he felt. He was proud when his voice didn't tremble in the slightest.
Dr. McCoy smirked and stepped a little closer, right into Pavel's personal space, warming the whole turbolift. Their mouths were just a few breaths apart, and Pavel licked his lips instinctively. Dr. McCoy's eyes dropped to his mouth. "How old are you again, kid?"
"I'm 17, sir," Pavel said breathlessly. Why did that matter?
Dr. McCoy sighed a little. "17." He sighed again and shook his head, stepping back. Pavel immediately felt colder, and he almost stepped closer to Dr. McCoy, but then the turbolift doors opened and it was time to eat.
Pavel loved the way that he felt when he was with Dr. McCoy: it was like he was 12 years old again, being taken care of like a child - but his feelings for the doctor were decidedly adult, as were the thoughts in his brain when he had his hand curled around his cock every night.
The thoughts were arousing - terribly arousing, really, and Pavel had to be careful what he thought about when he was in public - but sort of… vague. Pavel suspected it had to do with the fact that he'd never been with a man before, and hadn't really thought about men in a sexual way before Dr. McCoy, though now that he'd noticed Dr. McCoy he was definitely noticing all of the other men on the ship.
But he always came back to Dr. McCoy, especially after he was able to snitch one of the doctor's handkerchiefs from his pocket. The handkerchief smelled like the doctor, and Pavel held it to his nose every night when he stroked himself off. More than once, too, he spent his breaks during the work day (except lunch, of course) wanking in his quarters - quietly, so his roommate wouldn't hear.
After a time, Dr. McCoy backed off of the lunches. He started dropping Pavel off in the officer's mess and heading back to his sickbay to do the boring bits of being CMO, which left Pavel feeling rather depressed. He wondered if Dr. McCoy was really trying to make sure Pave l could take care of himself - or if the good doctor just wanted to distance himself from the boy he considered too young, after that moment in the elevator, which Pavel had figured out meant that Dr. McCoy was attracted to him.
He wished he was the sort to go and just grab Dr. McCoy and kiss him, hard and hungry, but that wasn't Pavel's style. Pavel didn't really have a style. Irina had been the aggressor between them, and that was Pavel's only real experience with relationships.
So Pavel ate lunch by itself, though it was very lonely and boring without Dr. McCoy's gruff, no-nonsense wit and charm. He took to bringing along the service manual for his computer station, which he hadn't bothered with reading before since the computer station seemed rather straightforward, but soon he was engrossed in that. He was careful at first to make sure he ate his meal before he started reading.
Soon, though, he was reading and eating at the same time, and not just his manual now but his favorite quantum physics textbooks PADD and a PADD with the new math being developed on Vulcan.
After that, it was only a matter of time before he found himself back in sickbay, feeling weak, because he'd forget to eat while he was reading.
Dr. McCoy was - to say the least - furious with him, and he ordered Pavel off his shift and to stay in sickbay until they could figure out a way to fix the problem.
Pavel knew then that there was more than just his relationship with the crew at stake - his whole career was in jeopardy, all because he got so easily distracted. He didn't know how to fix the problem on his own, though, and he spent several frustrated hours in Dr. McCoy's office talking about it, about how this all came to be, his relationship with his father and everything that had happened to him when he was a child. He could see the anger growing in Dr. McCoy's eyes, and he flinched from it, though part of him suspected that the anger was directed at Andrei, and not at Pavel.
That night, the night of the day he finally confessed his past to Starfleet, and to Dr. McCoy, he barely slept an hour. Like most 17 year old boys would, Pavel turned to wanking to satisfy himself and hopefully make him pleasantly sleepy. He still had possession of Dr. McCoy's handkerchief, and he pulled it out, sniffing deeply. The scent was almost gone by now but the memory of the scent was enough, and Pavel moaned, eagerly curling his hand around his eager prick.
He still could not properly imagine what it would be like to make love with a man, but it was enough for now to imagine Dr. McCoy's weight on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress, hard and heavy and holding Pavel firmly in place. He moaned and bit his lip to keep from getting louder as he imagined himself under Dr. McCoy, the doctor's voice rumbling in his ear as he was fucked, fucked hard, telling him he was filthy and naughty and wanted--
Pavel came so hard he almost sobbed, rubbing himself frantically and catching the hot stream of come in his hand. "Doctor!" he moaned loudly, panting as he slumped back against the pillows, feeling too happy and sated to move at the moment. Seeing nothing else for it, he lifted his hand to his mouth to lick his come from his fingers.
He was just finishing up when he heard someone's throat clearing, and he froze. "That was quite the show," Dr. McCoy said roughly, moving closer to the sickbay cot. Pavel swallowed hard. "Quite the show," Dr. McCoy repeated, and there was something enticingly malevolent in his voice.
Pavel drew in a deep, shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, to try to defend himself, to say something, anything, only Dr. McCoy shook his head, giving Pavel a stern look, and Pavel closed his mouth right away, feeling young and small.
The handkerchief was plucked from Pavel's stiff fingers. "This is my handkerchief." Dr. McCoy narrowed his eyes and then got the same look on his face that Pavel had when he was trying to figure out a particularly challenging equation. "You were masturbating using my handkerchief," Dr. McCoy said, sounding surprised, wondering.
How was it that the doctor could make such a clinical term sound so hot? Pavel shifted, feeling his cock harden again despite the circumstances, and then gasped when he realized his cock was still hanging out of his sickbay pajamas. Luckily, he was covered by the sheet, but he was mortified nevertheless.
"Well?" the doctor said in a prompting tone, and Pavel blinked, not realizing that he had gotten lost in his thoughts again.
"I'm sorry, doctor, I didn't hear what you said," Pavel murmured, feeling his own cheeks quite flushed with his embarrassment.
The doctor glared at him. "Where did you get my handkerchief, Ensign Chekov?"
Pavel shivered at Dr. McCoy's tone and swallowed hard. He had a feeling that a lie would just make the doctor even more angry, so he admitted the truth. "It was in your pocket, and I…" Pavel swallowed hard and hid his hands under himself in an instinctive gesture. "I took it."
"You stole my handkerchief from me?" the doctor asked, but oddly he sounded more pensive than angry. "I think I've figured out what your problem is." Pavel's eyes widened: it was impossible to mistake that husky tone and look in Dr. McCoy's eyes for anything but arousal. The doctor stepped closer, and then closer still, until all of a sudden he was bending over Pavel, staring down at him hungrily. "What you really need is to be taken in hand, isn't it? Like the little boy that you are."
Pavel blinked. "W-what?" he breathed.
Dr. McCoy nodded, clearly certain of himself. "You are a little boy." His eyes flicked down to Pavel's cock under the sheet, and Pavel blushed. "And you're going to be my little boy, and you'll do as I say, is that clear?"
Pavel wanted to protest, but he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't be a lie. His mouth dry, a lump in his throat, he just nodded.
The doctor nodded again, too. "Then when you're healed again, you'll move in with me, and when we're alone, you'll be my obedient little boy, won't you?"
A deep, shuddery breath, and Pavel nodded, eyes wide, cock aching, rubbing now against the smooth, cool sheets, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than for Dr. McCoy to pull off the sheets, lay down on top of him, and do to him what men did.
"Then that's settled," the doctor said. "You'll live with me when you're a healthy boy again." He turned and headed for his office, though he turned back long enough to say wickedly, "And you are not to touch your naughty little prick again, Pavel Chekov."
It was only a couple of days before Pavel Chekov was back on duty. There was less concern this time, and more annoyance, which was only to be expected, really, but it wasn't easy to deal with, and by the time Pavel's shift ended he was achingly tired.
Out of habit, he headed straight for his own quarters. He hadn't forgotten about what Dr. McCoy had said about going to live with him once he was healthy again, but the doctor hadn't said anything more about it since that night, so Pavel wasn't sure that Dr. McCoy hadn't been reacting to his own arousal at catching Pavel wanking with the doctor's name on his lips. Pavel had been a good boy, anyway, and had eaten properly and hadn't touched himself - that was the hardest part. At 17, without an outlet, the urge to masturbate was nearly irresistible, but Pavel very much wanted to be a good boy - if Dr. McCoy meant what he said, anyway.
Soon enough, the turbolift reached Pavel's deck, and he turned out of the turbolift bay. His jaw nearly dropped when he saw Dr. McCoy waiting at the doors to his quarters. "Oh! You're… you're here!" He couldn't quite keep the thrilled little smile from his face.
D. McCoy shrugged. "I thought you might come down here to get some things - I assume you haven't forgotten your orders - so I decided to wait for you here. But I've moved your things up to my quarters, so turn your little ass around and get right back on the turbolift."
Pavel blinked and swallows hard. "Y-yes, Dr. McCoy," he said obediently, and turned right back around to get on the turbolift, feeling a thrill go straight through him to his suddenly eager cock. Dr. McCoy followed behind him.
The moment the turbolift doors closed Pavel found himself pressed up against them, his eyes wide. "Dr. McCoy!"
Dr. McCoy shook his head and kissed Pavel hard, punishingly. "When we're alone, little boy, I'm your Daddy, I'm not Dr. McCoy, is that clear?"
Pavel moaned and tried not to rub against Dr. McCoy's hard thigh, but it was too tempting to resist for long. "Yes, sir," he panted, arms going around Dr. McCoy's neck.
Dr. McCoy growled and smacked Pavel's thigh, and though it stung a bit it only made Pavel harder. He groaned out loud and almost missed the doctor's words. "Say it, little boy, call me Daddy!"
"Daddy!" Pavel cried, and suddenly Dr. McCoy was his Daddy, and Pavel was nothing but a naughty little boy, and he could feel his hips working, rubbing off against Daddy's hard thigh and making the neediest noises he'd ever heard. "Daddy!" he cried again.
Daddy smacked Pavel's thigh again and Pavel yelped his pleasure at the stinging strike, and then Daddy's hands were stilling his hips and Pavel couldn't rub anymore! "Daddy!" he whimpered plaintively, only for Daddy to turn him around and smack his naughty bottom hard.
"Behave yourself, Pavel!" Daddy ordered. "This is our secret, no one can know I'm your Daddy, Ensign!"
Pavel pouted but tried to calm down. He licked his lips and nodded, looking up at Daddy through his lashes, trying to smooth curls that were in disarray. "S-sorry, Daddy," he breathed.
Daddy moaned, staring down at Pavel and then pulling him into a hungry, eager kiss, breaking off the moment before the turbolift doors slid open. Pavel was very glad there was no one in the hallway, because he knew his hard little prick was easy to see as a bulge underneath his uniform.
He was also glad for empty hallways because it meant that Daddy could hold his hand as they walked down the hall. Daddy didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry now, though, which was frustrating; Pavel's prick was aching. Walking the ten meters from the turbolift to Daddy's quarters was sheer torture, but the real torture came after the door to Daddy's quarters slid closed, because all Daddy did was sit down behind his computer.
Pavel fidgeted a little bit. "Should I go unpack, Daddy?" he asked quietly, nervously.
But Daddy shook his head. "No, Pavel. You may sit and have a cup of cocoa while Daddy finishes his work."
Pavel swallowed hard and nodded and headed over to the replicator, ordering himself a hot cocoa. He made his way over to the sofa and started to sit, but stopped at a stern look from his Daddy.
"No, no, Pavel, little boys sit on Daddy's lap, not by themselves on the sofa." Daddy patted his lap and Pavel grinned shyly and went over, slipping down sideways on Daddy's lap. He rubbed a little against Daddy's hard prick and got a smack on the thigh for his trouble, so he tried to concentrate on drinking his hot cocoa, and not on either of the hard pricks nearby.
He was almost asleep by the time Daddy finally finished his work, but he woke up when Daddy nudged him from his comfortable, warm, hard perch. "It's time for our shower, and then bed," Daddy said, and Pavel knew by the look in Daddy's eyes that sleep was not the first thing on the menu once they got into bed. His prick hardened again eagerly.
"Shower together, Daddy?" Pavel asked, following Daddy into the bathroom.
"Yes, little boy, we'll shower together and I'll make sure you're nice and clean, and then you can masturbate while I clean myself." Daddy smirked at him and Pavel made a soft eager noise, the same noise he made the first time he'd had sex with Irina.
Daddy started the water going and Pavel sighed a little, grateful for the chance to take a proper shower and not the sonic shower down in his own - his old - quarters. The washcloth Daddy used to scrub him was very nubbly and he moaned softly when Daddy cleaned his prick with it, the soap making him extra sensitive. Daddy's fingers in his hair felt very good, too, and soon Pavel was as relaxed as he ever had been.
"All finished," Daddy said, though as far as Pavel was concerned it came far too soon. "Little boys sit on the floor while Daddy's busy," Daddy ordered sternly, giving him a hard look, and Pavel slid to the floor of the shower, scooting into a corner. Down here, Daddy's cock was right in his face and he could see how large and beautiful and perfect it was, and, making that needy noise again, he curled his hand around his cock, stroking hard. Above him, Daddy chuckled and started washing himself, some of the soapy suds slipping down and landing on Pavel's furiously-stroking hand. "Don't come until Daddy gives you permission, Pavel."
To Pavel's humiliation, he actually whimpered with desperation at the idea that he might not get to come tonight. He stared hard at Daddy's thick cock, at the way the water ran off in a stream at the tip. He wanted to lean forward and lick Daddy's cock like a Daddy-flavored lollipop. "Daddy, please!" he begged, tugging at his little prick needily. Daddy just patted his head affectionately and Pavel positively whined. "Daddy, Daddy!" Pavel panted. "I need it!" he cried, tugging his prick sharply but only every few seconds, almost sobbing. "Daddy, please, please, please, I need to co-o-ome," he begged helplessly, sounding more and more like the little boy he really was at heart with every panting, hungry breath.
Daddy chuckled again and nudged Pavel's prick with his big toe, causing Pavel to gasp and make a particularly humiliating keening sound. "No, not yet," Daddy decided, and Pavel gasped out loud and couldn't help but rub himself a little bit harder at that, at being denied his treat by his Daddy. "Little boys don't usually need to come very often, so you can wait - oh, Pavel!" Daddy clucked his tongue and handed Pavel the soapy washcloth. Pavel blinked at it; he hadn't come yet, so he didn't know what it was for. "Your little prick is leaking, naughty, filthy little boy, clean yourself thoroughly!"
"Daddy!" Pavel begged, but already he was curling the soapy washcloth around his need prick, hoping Daddy wouldn't make him clean it for too long since his cock was already so sensitive and the soap would make it even more sensitive.
Daddy washed his hair, ignoring Pavel's pleas to him to be allowed to come, even when Pavel switched to Russian in his needy haze. Every now and then again he'd pat Pavel's hair like an affectionate Daddy should do to his little boy. "Good boy!" Daddy praised him, "Since you're being so very, very obedient, you may come!" Daddy said with a smirk, and Pavel positively screamed as he came all over himself and the shower. Daddy laughed and rinsed the come from the floor and the walls, then rinsed Pavel clean again and turned off the hot water after he rinsed the soap from Pavel's cock and hands. "Now, let's go to bed, and Daddy will make you feel very, very good."
Pavel nodded eagerly and followed Daddy into the bedroom. "Please, Daddy, will you let me come again?"
Daddy stopped in his tracks and turned around to glare at Pavel sternly. "Little boys don't ask questions like that or they get a spanking. The only time you ask to come is if you really, really need it, understand?"
The thought made him shiver - he wasn't supposed to even ask about coming unless he really needed to? How cruel his Daddy was, and yet how kind to let him come in the shower, and hadn't his father been so much crueler! Pavel nodded obediently, contrite and ashamed to have thought his Daddy cruel. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he whispered. It was nice to have a Daddy who would really take proper care of him, for the first time in a very long time.
Daddy nodded and led him over to the bed, laying him down gently. "Now spread your legs for Daddy," came the order, and Pavel bit his lip and spread his legs wide, feeling exposed and very naughty indeed.
"Like this, Daddy?" he asked uncertainly, and relaxed when Daddy nodded.
He tensed and cried out again immediately when Daddy bent down and started licking his asshole. "Daddy!" he screamed loudly. "No, Daddy, it's dirty, please!" Pavel whimpered even as he thrust against Daddy's hot, wet tongue all over his sensitive hole.
Daddy laughed. "No, little boy, I just cleaned you here quite thoroughly," he promised, and then went right back to licking Pavel's hole like it was the tastiest treat.
Pavel cried out and thrust frantically against Daddy's tongue, clenching his fingers in the bedclothes to keep from touching his cock as he suspected that Daddy would not be pleased if he came again just now. "Please Daddy, please, it's so good, please, I need to co-o-ome!"
"Not yet, little boy," Daddy said, chuckling again roughly. "I'm going to open up your ass with my fingers now and then put my cock inside you, and once I'm inside you, little boy, you can come and come as much as you need to." Daddy bent to his task again, licking and licking and driving Pavel crazy, only this time he added a finger slicked with lubricant as well, thrusting his finger firmly into Pavel's virgin ass.
Pavel cried out eagerly. "Daddy, Daddy, that's, I'm so full inside, please, more, pleeeease, fill me up!" Pavel begged, switching to Russian accidentally on the last bit and not even hearing himself as he begged.
Daddy seemed to understand, though, and he laughed at Pavel. "Oh, I'll fill you up," Daddy promised, and kissed him hard, pressing a second finger inside Pavel.
Gasping, Pavel thrust hard on Daddy's fingers, eyes wide and sightless in his needy arousal. "Daddy, Daddy!" He moaned, feeling every moment of it, of his ass being gently urged open by Daddy's thick, thick fingers, understanding now that he was being prepared to take Daddy's thick, thick cock. "Please, soon, in me, Daddy? Please?"
"Oh yes," Daddy growled his agreement and Pavel let out a needy little whine. "Very soon, little boy." Daddy kissed him hard and pulled his fingers from Pavel's ass, but before Pavel could even squeak a protest, Daddy's cock was inside him, filling him in a way that Pavel had never been filled before, and it felt so right, and it was right, he was always supposed to be right here, under Daddy, pinned by Daddy's weight and Daddy's need and Daddy's cock thrusting and rubbing over that sensitive little gland inside his ass.
"Daddy!" he screamed, and came hard the moment Daddy's cock was fully inside his ass. He was still hard, though, even after coming twice, and he knew he was going to come one more time when Daddy did. He wanted that more than anything, more than his own coming, he wanted Daddy's come inside him, and so instinctively he clenched his ass as hard as he could around Daddy's cock and eagerly met the rough thrust of Daddy's hips with the rough thrust of his own.
Daddy screamed out loud and brought his hand down sharply on Pavel's thigh. "Fuck, good little boy, do that again!" Daddy snapped, and Pavel did, tightening his ass and moaning loudly. Daddy groaned, a guttural sort of sound, and started thrusting even harder, even faster.
Pavel screamed again, needily. "Daddy, Daddy, come, please fill me up with your come, pleeeease!" He panted and gasped for breath, feeling tears in his eyes and on his cheeks.
"Yes, yes, Pavel!" Daddy came hard inside him and Pavel screamed one more time and came hard all over his belly and Daddy's. He wrapped himself around Daddy, arms and legs both, and clung desperately, shivering.
"Daddy, Daddy," he whimpered, kissing and kissing, totally spent.
Daddy's hand came up to stroke his hair. "Good boy, you're a very good little boy," Daddy praised, and kissed him, unaccountably sweetly. "You're Daddy's good little boy," Daddy promised, and hearing it, Pavel shivered and whimpered softly and clung to him even harder, rubbing their cheeks together.
A sudden yawn split Pavel's face in two and Daddy chuckled roughly. "Poor little lad, I've tuckered you out." Daddy slid his cock from Pavel's ass and Pavel mewled a sleepy protest, but Daddy just cuddled him close and pulled the covers over them. "It's time for little boys to go to sleep, Pavel," Daddy said.
Pavel nodded and leaned up to kiss Daddy on the cheek. "I love you, Daddy," Pavel said in a little boy voice, then yawned again with a little squeak and dropped off to sleep to the feeling of Daddy stroking his fingertips over and over Pavel's smooth cheek.