Fic: My Heart is a Holy Place
Title: My Heart is a Holy Place
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov, Mirror!Sulu/Chekov
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 7300
Warning: Graphic non-con, mild violence, abuse and mind-fuckery of the usual mirror!verse variety.
Author’s note: Written for a prompt at the issenterprise kink meme which I now can’t find. If you recognize the prompt and know where it is, link me! Spasiba to jaune_chat for beta-ing this into shape.
Summary: Chekov and Sulu have just begun to move beyond friendship into something more when a transporter malfunction sends Chekov into an alternate universe where Sulu has different priorities.
“You think Kirk will wrap this up by 17:00?” Hikaru muttered.
“Long before, I should think.” Chekov glanced at the door to the receiving room where the captain was engaged in negotiations with the rulers of this out-of-the-way planet. “The captain is very good at diplomacy.”
“Kind of,” Hikaru said, but he looked skeptical. He leaned back on the bench where they were waiting. “Do you want to have dinner together if we get back at a decent time?”
“Yes.” Chekov wrestled his grin down into a manageable smile. Though the security ensigns who rounded out the away team were sitting across the room, Chekov still wanted to maintain discretion. “I would like that.” The newness of this thing between them left Chekov unsure of his footing. Whereas before, eating meals with his best friend was a matter of course, now the prospect of dinner had Chekov itching to finish this mission and return to the ship. “Perhaps we could go to my quarters, after,” Chekov said in what he hoped was a casual tone.
“Alright.” Hikaru gave him a knowing half-smile, and Chekov felt his skin heat.
Even that mere suggestion of interest was enough to ignite Chekov’s imagination. In the two standard months since they’d acknowledged their mutual attraction, he and Hikaru had been slow to progress their intimacy beyond friendly touching. Hikaru had caught on early that Chekov was venturing into uncharted territory, and had insisted there was no rush. Still, Chekov suffered nagging doubts that he would somehow destroy not only their burgeoning relationship, but also their friendship by his ignorance in this area. He wanted to be confident and experienced, but he could not regret that each new thing he did with Hikaru was a first, a new experience. And each time Hikaru looked at Chekov like he’d just been given a valuable treasure, another of the defenses Chekov had built around his heart fell away.
Chekov glanced across at the security team, who were fiddling with their tricorders. He scooted closer to Hikaru. “Maybe we--.”
Kirk’s abrupt entrance interrupted Chekov. He strode into the anteroom, data padd in hand. The whole away team stood, but Kirk walked right to Chekov. One of the magistrates of this planet, a dark, willowy humanoid, stood in the doorway, watching carefully.
“Ensign.” Kirk handed him the padd. “Take these star charts back to the Enterprise and see if they’re what we need. Tell Commander Spock I’ll be continuing negotiations until I hear word back on these maps.”
“Yes sir.”
Kirk turned and strode back into the other room. The door closed behind him with an ominous thud.
Hikaru looked down at the padd, then back at Chekov. “Hurry up with those maps. I’m hungry.”
“I will do my best.”
“See you soon,” Hikaru said.
Chekov flipped open his communicator. “Enterprise. One to beam up.”
--
Chekov typically didn’t mind transporting; it didn’t make him nauseous or light-headed the way it did some others. This time, however, upon materializing in the main transporter room, he felt an acute sense of disorientation.
“I’m telling you it’s a problem with the damn interface,” Scotty snapped. “Readings are all over the place.”
Commander Spock, who was standing near the door, approached the control station. His eyes latched on to Chekov. “Ensign. Assist Mister Scott.”
Chekov froze where he stood for one breath, two, as the disorientation crystallized into a certainty that something was very wrong. Spock’s facial hair, the sash on Scott’s uniform, and the unfamiliar insignia on the wall all pointed to a mystery.
Under the piercing gaze of this Spock, who seemed even more inscrutable than the Spock he knew, Chekov stumbled off the transporter pad and went to stand at the console. He frowned at the data on display. “This is most unusual,” he said.
“Told you the atmospheric readings were off,” Scotty grumbled. “Damn thing will need a full diagnostic before I’m confident it’s safe to use again, Commander.”
“See to it, Mister Scott. Ensign, what are the captain’s orders?”
Chekov looked down at the padd he’d forgotten he was holding. “He wants me to analyze the information they provided. He will be continuing negotiations until he hears word.”
Spock’s expression didn’t change perceptibly, and Chekov dropped his eyes again, pretending to look at the transporter controls.
The door to the room hissed open, and when a security detail of three men appeared, Chekov felt sure he was about to die. He blamed on his fear the fact that it took him so long to recognize the man in the center as Hikaru Sulu. He wore a red security tunic and bore a long scar down the side of his face, but he was unmistakably Sulu.
“Commander,” Sulu said stiffly. “The Captain asked for a security detail to process anyone returning from the planet.”
“Such a procedure is unnecessary at this time. Ensign Chekov, perform your analysis with all haste, and report back to me. Mister Sulu, if your services are needed, you will be contacted.” Spock walked out without a backward glance.
With barely concealed disgust, Sulu nodded to his two companions, who went out the way they’d come. Quickly, Chekov tried to follow. Sulu caught his arm. “Come on, Pavel. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.” He guided Chekov to the door.
“The Captain’s waiting on the information he’s got, Sulu,” Scotty called after them.
Sulu looked back at Scotty. “I won’t keep him long.”
As soon as they were out in the deserted hallway, Sulu gave Chekov a hard look and a thin smile. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Chekov said. He was proud of how steady his voice sounded.
“Here’s a hint about subterfuge. No one would believe you’re stupid, Chekov, so don’t try it.” He pulled Chekov with him, and they emerged into a main corridor, this one laid out a little different than the Enterprise Chekov knew, and crowded with faces that looked, if familiar, a little off.
Chekov pulled against Sulu, but when Sulu tightened his grip warningly, he subsided. Chekov didn’t want to draw the attention of anyone else in this strange, nightmare world. Not world-universe. For obviously the anomaly Scotty’d mentioned had led to some problem with the transporters, and Chekov had ended up in a parallel universe. One in which, apparently, Sulu wore a scar on his face, a knife on his belt, and the red uniform of a security officer.
“My quarters,” Sulu hissed in his ear. “We’ve got to keep you away from the rest of them.”
Chekov relaxed a fraction. Of course: Sulu was only pretending to be stern with him so the others in the universe would be fooled. Sulu was trying to keep him safe. Chekov nodded his assent. Sulu patted him on the back and nodded. He set off down one of the branching corridors, leaving Chekov nothing to do but follow. If anyone here could help him, Hikaru would.
--
Sulu had to enter a code to access his quarters, but then he waved Chekov in while glancing around the corridor to make sure no one had followed them. The moment they were both inside, Sulu shoved Chekov against the wall and with a flick of his wrist pressed his knife to Chekov’s throat. “Whatever you are, you had better start talking.”
Chekov had time to think, distantly, that if he thought some alien being had possessed Sulu, he would probably act this way, too. But he gasped out, “Hikaru, it’s me.”
Sulu slammed his fist into Chekov’s belly, and Chekov narrowly avoided jerking forward onto the blade at his throat. He’d sparred with Hikaru before, but he’d never quite appreciated how much he pulled his punches. Nausea clawed its way up Chekov’s chest, and when he tried to breathe, his throat closed. Then the first wave of pain passed, and he was able to gulp in oxygen.
“This sort of thing gets boring very quickly.” Sulu whispered. “So explain what you are in the next ten seconds or I slide my knife into you and tell the captain I caught a spy. Good for the ship, good for my career. Everyone’s happy except you, because you’ll be dead.”
Chekov reassessed his assumption that this Sulu might be able to help him. Hikaru shouldn’t be capable of thinking such a thing, let alone saying it. He gasped for enough air to say, “I am from a different universe.” He was rewarded when Sulu’s grip relaxed a fraction. “But I am Pavel Andreievich Chekov. The transporter. Something happened with the transporter.”
“Pretty story. If you’re Chekov, then tell me something he would know.”
Chekov didn’t like the cold, calculating look in Sulu’s eyes. “If our universes are not the same, our lives are not the same. The same things did not happen to me.”
“You’re not very convincing, little spy.” Sulu pressed against the knife, and Chekov felt the edge dig into his skin.
“Hikaru, please. I was born in Yekaterinburg in January. My parents are Andrei and Irina Chekov,” he said. At Sulu’s lack of response, he hurried on. “I met you for the first time when I sat in on the advanced interplanetary navigation seminar and you asked me if I was Professor Nadri’s son because you did not believe I could be a student.” He and Hikaru had joked about this many times, but now the reminder brought only a blank stare.
“That never happened,” Sulu said.
“Last year when you found out hand-to-hand combat was the only academy class in which I’d received average marks, you started to teach me to fence,” Chekov continued frantically. “But you gave up after two months because my footwork was atrocious.”
“Your footwork is atrocious.” Sulu sounded thoughtful.
“So you taught me knives instead. And then…” Chekov’s breath stuck in his throat, but now Sulu looked curious.
“Then what, Chekov?” Sulu leaned in closer, but kept his knife hand steady.
“After that away mission on Sihnon Two, we were in quarantine together and…” He stumbled to a halt, suddenly uncertain if he should share this memory. He surely wasn’t betraying Hikaru’s trust to tell this to another version of himself, but the idea of giving their secret to this man sent a nervous shudder through Chekov.
Sulu waited, watching Chekov expectantly.
“And.” Chekov swallowed, and winced as the motion of his throat pressed the blade against his skin. He had to take this chance; if a similar thing had happened in this universe, the Chekov and Sulu who lived here must be keeping it a secret, too. “And you kissed me.”
“I kissed you.” With a flick of Sulu’s wrist, the knife disappeared back into its hip sheath. His hand returned to wrap around Chekov’s throat. “Like this?”
Sulu loomed closer. Chekov’s eyes flicked to the jagged line of the scar on his face just before Sulu’s mouth captured his. The gentleness of the kiss surprised Chekov. Sulu’s lips, soft and slow against Chekov’s, provided a strange counterpoint to his restraining hand around Chekov’s throat. Sulu pulled back a fraction, so their lips were barely separated. “Is that all?”
“Yes.”
Sulu yanked him away from the wall, spun him, and twisted his arm up against his back. He grabbed a handful of Chekov’s curls to force his hand back. He leaned in close, and his hot breath puffed against Chekov’s exposed neck. Chekov tried to turn his head, to look for the knife, but Sulu held him fast.
“That’s not what happened in quarantine. Not in my universe.” Sulu released his grip on Chekov’s hair and slid a hand down his chest instead. “First you sucked me, hard, until you choked. You were so eager to take me. Then…” His hand ghosted over the front of Chekov’s uniform trousers, as gentle as his whisper. “It must have hurt with only your spit to ease the way, but you begged for it. You screamed when I fucked you. You moaned like a whore.” He put on a high-pitched voice and a mocking accent. “‘Harder, harder! I need it very much!’” He wrapped his fingers slowly around the outline of Chekov’s cock, half-hard in his pants. “You came with me inside you and my hand on you, and you loved it.”
Chekov concentrated on holding absolutely still. He’d never heard words like that coming from Hikaru, not ever. The cadence and the tone of them were all wrong, but more than that, Hikaru was never cruel, never delighted in another’s humiliation. If the man touching him could speak so differently from his Sulu, logic dictated he was also capable of actions Chekov would never expect from the man he knew. Chekov clung steadfastly to the image of his Sulu, to the sound of his voice, low and soothing, the precise way he chose his words, and he drew strength from the memory. After two attempts, he found his voice. “That is not how it happened in my universe.”
“Go on.” Sulu loosened his grip on Chekov. “Tell me, then. What is he like where you come from? The other Sulu”
“He is not security,” Chekov said slowly. “He is a pilot.”
“No. That’s not what I mean.” Sulu pulled Chekov back further, until he had to lean against Sulu to keep his balance. “Tell me what he’s like in bed. Does he hurt you? What does it feel like when he’s inside of you?”
“I...” Chekov shook his head to ward off the images that came too easily to mind with those words. “I do not know.”
Sulu twisted Chekov’s arm farther, eliciting a grunt of pain. “Don’t be ashamed,” he said. He sounded amused. “I’ve heard it all before. In this universe, you love to talk.”
“I cannot tell you what I do not know,” Chekov snapped.
Sulu released his hold on Chekov and stepped away.
Chekov rubbed his arm and turned slowly to see Sulu frowning at him with head cocked. “Don’t lie to me,” Sulu said, low and dangerous.
“I do not lie.”
“You’re saying he hasn’t fucked you.”
“That’s right,” Chekov said defiantly. Anger flared in him at this imposter, who dared to speak so casually and derisively of what he and Sulu shared.
“Is there someone else?” Sulu narrowed his eyes. “Who? Kirk. He’s always had a soft spot for you. No. McCoy? I guess in a universe where all the crew are sentimental weaklings, that could work out nicely for you. Who do you belong to?”
“I belong to no one.”
“But you’re with me.” Sulu must have taken Chekov’s silence as an answer. “Explain.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and Chekov decided he needed to produce an answer to Sulu’s liking sooner rather than later.
“He doesn’t mind.” Even as Chekov said it, he wondered if it was a lie. If he’d misinterpreted Hikaru’s actions. But no, Hikaru had said, he’d said he wanted to take his time, that Chekov was young and he couldn’t stand it if he knew he’d scared Chekov into moving too quickly. “He wants to go slow. Not to rush things between us.” Until now he hadn’t considered if Hikaru would be this way with another partner, or if he had changed for Chekov, because Chekov couldn’t handle what Hikaru really needed.
“He wants?” Sulu prowled around behind Chekov.
“Because…” Chekov said miserably. “Because I…”
“Because you’re a virgin?” Sulu whispered in his ear. “I told you not to lie to me.”
Chekov turned abruptly to face Sulu. He hated this Sulu’s voice: the way it dripped with judgment and scorn. He wouldn’t have allowed anyone in his universe to bully him this way, and he should not allow this man to do so either, no matter who he resembled. He stiffened his spine and snarled, “Why did you bring me here? If I do not belong in your universe, why did you not bring me to the captain?”
“Oh Pavel.” Sulu’s laugh sounded nasty. “You don’t want me to take you to the captain. Or to Spock, for that matter. And you definitely don’t want me to tell them what you just told me. I think the captain would take it as a personal insult to have a virgin on his crew.”
Chekov tried a different tactic. “You must want your own Chekov back. Give me an hour in the transporter room and I can figure out how to switch us back.”
“Hm.” Sulu looked up, thoughtful. “It’s true you’re of no use to me like this. Not like my Pavel is. Maybe there’d be an advantage to keeping both of you.” He reached over to press his knuckles to Chekov’s cheek. Chekov shivered. “Or maybe you’d be a liability.” He stepped back, and Chekov could see he’d come to some conclusion. “I’m an honorable man, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Chekov said warily.
“I’ll get you to the transporter room so you can make the switch.”
“Thank you.” Chekov didn’t relax, even a little. He was waiting for the catch.
“But I want to give you a gift to take back to Sulu in your universe.” Sulu stepped forward, Chekov retreated, and he followed, until Chekov was trapped against the wall.
“Do not do this,” Chekov said. He tried to sound resolute: he wanted the kind of steel in his voice that Hikaru had when he spoke to the enemy, but judging from Sulu’s smirk, he’d fallen far short.
“Pavel. Pavel. It’s nothing you don’t want.” Through his pants, Sulu squeezed Chekov’s dick, which had gone soft in his terror. “Why so shy all of sudden?”
“I am not your Chekov.”
“I think you’re more like him than you want to admit.” Sulu struck quickly, like a snake. He shoved Chekov off center and used the arm Chekov thrust out for balance to swing him the short distance to the bed. Chekov stumbled and landed face down on the bed. In seconds, Sulu had pounced, pinning him to the mattress.
“Hikaru…” Pavel tried to put a note of warning in his voice, but that effort, too, fell flat.
“He doesn’t beg, my Pavel. Will you?”
Chekov clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He’d been captured by the enemy before and knew how to be strong. But no enemy had ever worn the face of one he loved. Loved. He loved Hikaru. He had to survive this to get back to the Enterprise and tell him so.
Sulu stripped Chekov with infinite care: shirts, boots, pants. Last he tugged Chekov’s underwear down and off. He slid a hand up the back of Chekov’s thigh to palm his ass. “This looks familiar.”
Chekov’s whole body was rigid, and the cold knot of dread in his stomach felt like an anchor holding him to the bed. He tried not to shiver at Sulu’s touch. He would be calm and brave under duress, as befitted an officer. He pushed the picture of Sulu out of his mind and tried to picture another enemy instead: a sneering Romulan instead of this demon wearing his lover’s face.
“My Pavel has a scar here.” Sulu’s thumb brushed the top of the curve of Chekov’s ass, at the left. “I carved my mark into him so there would never be any mistake about who he belonged to.”
Something cold and hard touched Chekov’s skin. He froze. Sulu traced the point of his blade over bare flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“I think I’ll let your own Sulu worry about that,” Sulu said eventually. “I’m doing him enough of a favor as it is.”
“This is no favor,” Chekov growled. He barely bit back the argument that if his Hikaru were here, he’d tell him so. Chekov needed no one to defend him; he would get out of this himself.
Sulu chuckled. “Pavel-my Pavel-was never innocent like this. Not while I knew him. He’s always been shrewd, mischievous. Vicious. You’ve got that in you too, I bet.”
Sulu grabbed Chekov’s shoulder to turn him over, and Chekov sprang into action. He threw his elbow back, aiming to break his opponent’s nose. The blow connected with something, but Chekov didn’t wait to analyze. He used the momentum of the move to roll away, off the bed.
Laughing, Sulu sprang after him and tackled him to the floor on his back, knocking the wind out of him. “See, Pavel? You do have something in common with the man I know. Of course, he would have known how to land a strike like that, but still, I appreciate the effort.”
He shifted his grip, and his knife flashed in Chekov’s sight. The blade came to rest against Chekov’s upturned right wrist. Chekov instantly stilled. His eyes latched onto the knife as if drawn there by a magnet.
“Listen carefully. I’d like you to follow instructions and be a good boy now. No one else on this ship is going to help you, but I promised I’ll get you a shot at the transporter, and I will. There is no way back to your own universe without my help.” The even cadence of the words drove into Chekov’s brain. Sulu gave him a moment to take that in before he continued. “If you give me trouble again, I’m going to put my knife through your wrist, right through the nerve cluster there. McCoy will be able to repair most of the damage, sure, but nerves are tricky things. You’d probably never recover enough fine motor control to be useful as a navigator. You need fast hands for a job like that. Don’t you?”
Chekov’s mind flashed to his post at the helm, to his hands flying over the controls, to a thousand calculations made as fast as his fingers could move, and fought against the stab of fear, keen as Sulu’s knife, of never returning to his duties, of being barred forever from the work he loved, the work he’d been born to do.
When Chekov didn’t answer, Sulu pressed the tip of his knife into the skin at the center of Chekov’s wrist.
Chekov’s fist clenched spasmodically. The blade broke through the skin, sending a thick drop of blood welling to the surface. “Yes,” Chekov gasped.
“Oh Pavel,” Sulu smiled. He dropped down to kiss him: shoved his tongue between Chekov’s lips and bullied him with his mouth. He ended with a close-mouthed kiss against Chekov’s slack lips. “Most men, I’d threaten to cut their balls off. But you…” He dragged the keen point of his knife in a small circle around the bright red pinpoint of blood he’d drawn. “I know you.” He slid a knee between Chekov’s legs, nudging his thighs apart. “Now. Are you going to behave?”
Chekov thought of the transporter. He had an inkling of what to look for in the logs to determine what had brought him here. He was certain he could find some way to reverse the process, but it would take time. Without Sulu watching his back, he had no prayer of having the time he needed.
“Pavel,” Sulu said warningly. He pressed his weight down against Chekov, making it hard to breathe.
“Yes,” Chekov said. His heart thumped in his chest, but he forced himself to take deep breaths, and to ignore Hikaru’s scent all around him: clean and salty, familiar and safe. He wasn’t safe here, and he wouldn’t be until he gave this Sulu what he wanted.
“Good boy.” Sulu patted his cheek. “Now relax. Relax.”
Sulu climbed off him. Chekov squeezed his eyes shut and called up the Enterprise transporter schematics from memory. He could get through this, ignore this, if he could only distract himself.
Chekov startled as warm fingers cradled his soft cock. He hadn’t expected Sulu to be this gentle. He braced himself for pain, but instead felt Sulu lick a wide stripe down his dick from tip to root. “Paaavel.” Sulu drawled the name, made it long and intimate. “You ever imagine this?”
“No,” Chekov pushed out his answer through gritted teeth.
Sulu muffled his laugh by wrapping his lips around the head of Chekov’s cock. Chekov tensed up despite himself, clenching his hands into fists as Sulu’s tongue circled him wickedly. Then Sulu dragged his mouth free. “You can’t say you’ve never thought about this.”
Instead of answering, Chekov squeezed his eyes more tightly closed. He didn’t want to speak of nights lying awake in his bed, muffling his moans into his pillow as he imagined how Hikaru’s mouth would feel on him and how his eyes would light when Chekov knelt to return the favor. He could not even speak of these things to his Hikaru, so he could not bear to tell them to this heartless stranger.
“Pavel.” A sharp note of warning underlay Sulu’s tone, and Chekov chanced opening his eyes. “I only have you a short time, so I suppose there’s no point in trying to train you. Here’s what we’ll do. Every time you lie to me, or refuse to answer a question, you’ll get thirty seconds with the agonizer.” At Chekov’s blank look, Sulu said, “I suppose they don’t have agonizers where you come from.”
Chekov shook his head slowly. He’d never heard of such a thing, but the name seemed obvious enough.
Sulu reached for something on his belt, and held up a small device Chekov didn’t recognize. He had only a moment to worry about its application before Sulu pressed it against Chekov’s chest. The world narrowed to the all-consuming pain that shot out from that spot to every fiber of Chekov’s body, burning and sizzling along his nerves. A ragged scream echoed in his ears for several seconds before he recognized his own voice. Sulu pulled the device away, and the pain vanished, leaving Chekov gasping and half-hard.
“Shh.” Sulu petted a hand down his chest. “You like that, see? I know you too well. Better than you know yourself. You can’t tell me the Sulu in your universe has never tried this on you.”
“No he has not.” Chekov cringed in embarrassment at how like a sob his words sounded.
“No. I suppose you wouldn’t be used to that sort of thing where you come from. So here’s what we’ll do. You rack up thirty seconds with the agonizer for each offense, and when you get me my Pavel back, he’ll take the punishment.”
“What?” Chekov’s eyes snapped open, and he saw Sulu looking very pleased with himself. “No, you cannot punish someone else for what I do.” He hated to think of his alternate self under the power of this twisted version of Sulu.
“Don’t tell me no. That’s thirty seconds.” Sulu patted him on the cheek and clipped his agonizer back on his belt. “He’s still you, just a different version. And my Pavel knows how to take his punishment. He’s had the agonizer before. He can take it. Back to my question.” His hand moved on Chekov’s cock, gently. “Have you ever thought about this?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Chekov temporized. He tried to shift his hips away from Sulu and escape his touch, but Sulu tugged sharply at his dick to still him.
“You’re up to a minute. I told you stupidity wasn’t a convincing disguise.” He smiled indulgently. “I mean do you fantasize about him?”
Chekov set his lips in a hard line. He would be a coward to allow another-even an alternate version of himself-to take his punishment, but wasn’t it also cowardly to betray the relationship he had with Hikaru to save his own skin?
Sulu shrugged and continued tugging at Chekov’s cock. “A minute thirty. I suppose since you personally won’t be taking the punishment, you--.”
“Yes,” Chekov said abruptly. He would take the pain of the betrayal on himself, rather than make the Chekov of this universe suffer for his pride. “Yes I do.”
“Good boy.” Sulu bent down to drop a kiss to the tip of Chekov’s cock. “What do you fantasize about?”
“Hikaru… Touching me.” Chekov swallowed past the tightness in his throat as Sulu’s mouth closed around him again. His cock, already half-hard from the adrenaline rush of the agonizer, began to respond. Chekov tried to concentrate on his words instead of on the feel of Sulu’s lips engulfing him. He didn’t know how to speak of these things, in Standard or in any other language. “How he looks at me.”
Sulu freed his mouth and closed his hand around Chekov, stroking expertly. “How he looks at you.”
“Yes.” Chekov squirmed under his touch, trying to ignore his body’s response to this face, this voice. Sulu’s hand on him had him anchored to this place; he couldn’t imagine an escape. In fact he was having trouble remembering anything outside this room.
“He looks at you like he loves you.” Sulu ran his thumb over the tip of Chekov’s cock, his face fixed in a pensive frown.
“Yes,” Chekov said weakly. At least, he thought Hikaru looked at him that way. He couldn’t picture Hikaru’s face, but he seemed to remember his eyes were kind. Now, though, they looked cruel, and as ugly as the scar along his temple.
“What else do you think of? When you touch yourself, what do you picture?” Sulu asked. He again swallowed down Chekov’s cock, which was fully hard now. Chekov tilted his head back so he wouldn’t have to see Sulu’s mouth stretched around him. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Hikaru, his Hikaru. Only flashes, partial images came to mind. “I think about his body. I like that he is strong. He knows what to do. His hands are so sure.”
Sulu’s hand returned to stroking him, and he pulled his mouth off with a wet sound. “So he has touched you.” Sulu’s hand twisted in just the way Chekov liked, and Chekov’s mouth dropped open on a gasp. “Have you touched him, Pavel?”
Chekov squeezed his eyes closed again, and saw Hikaru there, in his bed, their legs tangled together and each of their hands reaching into the open vee of the other’s pants, looking into eyes as wide with wonder as his own as they both gulped for breath.
“You have touched him. Have you sucked him? Had him in your mouth?”
Chekov shook his head quickly, and his fists clenched again. He’d thought about it, thought about asking if he could, thought about what Hikaru’s face would look like undone with pleasure, thought about the pride of being able to take strong, brave Hikaru to pieces like that.
“But you want to, don’t you?”
Chekov nodded helplessly and tried not to squirm as Sulu continued to stroke him, pulling him inexorably closer to release.
“Do you think about fucking him?”
Chekov’s face heated. His mouth gaped, but he couldn’t form an answer, because that was not what he thought about. In all his fantasies, Hikaru was the one moving inside of him, brushing hot fingers across Chekov’s face as he whispered meaningless, filthy things about how Chekov felt, how good he was, how worth all the waiting.
“You don’t,” Sulu said, voice low and rough. “You think about him fucking you, don’t you?” Sulu slid his hand faster along Chekov’s length. “Him filling you up and pounding into you and holding onto you like he needs you to live. You want all of him. You want him to lose himself in you. You want to give him everything you are. Don’t you, Pavel?”
“Please,” Chekov cried. His hands flew up to brace against Sulu’s arms. Sulu gave him two more hard strokes, and then Chekov’s hips jerked hard as release ripped through him, wringing him dry.
In the hazy aftermath, Chekov saw Sulu get up, shuck his pants, and stand next to him. He poured something onto his fingers and rubbed them over his cock, which stood proud and hard. He knelt between Chekov’s thighs and hooked his hand under Chekov’s knee to life up his leg. “Easy now. I just have to do this.” He pushed forward. Chekov felt the wet press of Sulu’s cock at his entrance.
Chekov crashed out of his endorphin haze. He tried to pull away, but Sulu pulled him back by the waist. “Shh. Relax. Just relax.”
Sulu pushed in again, harder this time, and held Chekov in place. Chekov kept his scream behind his teeth, but barely. Pain shot through him, not as all-consuming as the agonizer, but worse somehow for being so raw and focused. It couldn’t work, Chekov was sure. Nothing so large could possibly fit inside him, not like this.
“Let me in,” Sulu growled. He grabbed Chekov’s hips and pulled, something gave, and then the pain receded in an instant from blinding agony to a sharp ache that seemed almost a welcome relief.
“There,” Sulu said shakily. “Pavel… God, you feel…” He laughed. Chekov felt the movement of it shake through him, and he clutched desperately at the floor. “Amazing,” Sulu said. “I’m just barely in, and this… My Pavel never felt like this.” He shifted his knees further apart, but thankfully didn’t penetrate Chekov any deeper.
“There.” He rubbed his hand against Chekov’s hip. “That was the worst part. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Is that why you were making him wait? Because you thought it would hurt?”
“No,” Chekov ground out. His eyes stung, and he squeezed them closed so Sulu wouldn’t see his tears. Even if he’d known it would hurt like this, he wouldn’t have minded. It wasn’t his body he’d been trying to protect, but his heart. Too late, too late. He’d given his heart to Sulu already, and gotten this monster in return.
“You’re fine,” Sulu said gently. “You can cry if you want. I don’t mind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Oh Pavel.” He eased forward, and slid in more of his slicked length. Chekov clenched his teeth against the spike in pain.
“You are different from my Pavel, but you’re alike in some ways, too. The way your eyes look when you come. The way your mouth twitches when you’re in pain. Your cock… Both of you like to be touched the same way. You know something?” Sulu leaned in, and his cock speared further into Chekov. “If you’re a little like my Chekov, that means I must be a little like your Sulu.”
Chekov shook his head vehemently, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Sulu shifted, pulled out of Chekov a few inches, and pressed slowly back in. “If you’re fantasizing about him, don’t you think he’s fantasizing about you? About this?” Sulu snapped his hips forward to bury himself fully. He pressed their bodies together, trapping Chekov’s softening cock and the mess of his cooling come between them. “I bet he wants the same thing I do. Does he say, ‘It doesn’t matter, Pavel, we can wait. I’ll go as slow as you like,’” Sulu said in a mocking voice.
“It is not that way,” Chekov snarled, but Sulu’s words sunk into his chest like claws.
“What he really wants is to pin you down and fuck you until you can’t get out of bed.” Sulu pulled out and slammed back in, knocking Chekov’s breath out of him. Then he did it again, and again, a slow, agonizing rhythm. He pressed down against Chekov, his face inches from his ear. “He wants to claim you and hurt you, because you bare your throat for him like a dog.”
Chekov struck out with clenched fists. Sulu caught his hands easily and pinned them at his sides. Chekov kept struggling, but he couldn’t unseat Sulu, couldn’t stop him, and after a moment, he slumped back to the floor. “You are nothing like him,” he said faintly.
Sulu paused above him. His smile looked almost sad. “You haven’t seen what’s in our head, Pavel. I have.”
--
After, Sulu gave Chekov a clean uniform and escorted him to the deserted main transporter room. Pavel found a solution in twenty-six minutes, but spent another eighteen trying to find a way to return to his own universe without switching with his counterpart. He didn’t want to leave any Chekov here, even if he belonged to this world. He couldn’t imagine how different his other self could be, if he was somehow warped and evil as Sulu had been… If Chekov had that capacity within him.
At forty-four minutes, Sulu came in from where he’d been guarding the corridor. “Spock’s on his way,” he said, grim-faced. “Do you have it figured out or not?”
“Yes,” Chekov said reluctantly. He entered in the sequence he needed and quickly programmed a subroutine to purge all record of the procedure so it couldn’t be used again. “You must activate it.” He stepped toward the transporter pad, but Sulu caught him around the waist.
“Be a good boy, Pavel. I’m sure your Hikaru will enjoy your new tricks.” He kissed Chekov on the forehead and let him go.
--
In his report, Chekov stated that the Sulu in the alternate universe had helped him escape, which was technically true. He feared that an accurate report might somehow reflect badly on Hikaru. Besides, he’d already lied to McCoy. He’d brushed off the doctor’s request for a follow-up exam by claiming he was busy with the star charts from the mission, despite the fact that the captain had insisted on forty-eight hours leave and assigned the new maps to someone else. Chekov tried to concentrate on his disappointment at not getting the first look at the new star charts to distract himself from what he knew must be done.
Chekov saw Hikaru the second day, at mess for the midday meal. Hikaru hurried over to him with a concerned wave. “Pavel!” Hikaru tossed down his tray and slid into the seat across from Chekov. “You don’t believe in answering your communicator anymore? I was worried about you.”
“It is nothing.”
“Kirk doesn’t hand out forty-eight hours of leave for ‘nothing,’ Pavel. What’s the deal with the transporter accident? Are you injured?” His expression of concern seemed genuine, but Chekov couldn’t look at him without seeing the ugly scar the other Sulu bore.
“I am not injured. Forget about the accident. Listen, Hikaru.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “I would rather eat alone.”
“Have I done something to upset you?” Hikaru asked anxiously.
“I…” Chekov made an effort to steady his hand on the tray before it started to shake. “I made a mistake. About us.”
Hikaru’s face dropped into a frown. “What do you mean?”
“I think I have confused friendship with something else." Chekov fixed his gaze at a point on the table between them. "I was happier when we were only friends. Do you understand?”
Hikaru stared at him, caught off-guard as he never was when facing the enemy. “Oh,” he said weakly.
“I did not wish things to become uncomfortable between us, so I was reluctant to say this before. But I must.”
Hikaru kept staring, and Chekov could practically see him working through all the available data and trying to fit it to this conclusion. Finally, he said haltingly, “I apologize if I did anything--.”
Chekov waved a hand to stop him. “Of course. I must…” Chekov stood, abandoning his tray and a still-reeling Hikaru, and walked away as sedately as he could manage.
He kept his eyes on the floor in the corridor lest anyone should try to talk to him, so he never saw McCoy coming.
“Ensign.” The doctor grabbed his arm. “No more excuses. You’re coming in for that exam right now.”
“Yes sir. Of course, doctor.” Chekov glanced back toward the mess, then followed willingly.
McCoy led him past the main area of sickbay back to a private room. He stood next to the door and waved Chekov in. Chekov gave him a wary glance, but he knew he couldn’t very well refuse now that he’d come to sick bay. He stepped into the exam room and tried not to shudder as McCoy closed the door behind them.
McCoy took up a position between Chekov and the door and folded his arms across his chest. “Now do you want to explain to me what’s wrong, or do you want me to do a full exam?”
“A full exam is not necessary,” Chekov said. He wondered if lying would ever get easier. “As I have said, I was not injured during my short time away.”
“Pull my other leg, it plays Jingle Bells,” McCoy snorted. “If you picked up some alternate universe disease you’re embarrassed to tell me about, and it starts spreading to the crew--.”
“No!” Chekov said, horrified. “Doctor, I would never endanger the ship. Never.”
“Okay, okay. Kid, it’s no shame to have gotten hurt. Hell, Jim comes back with some new injury or allergic reaction after every damn away mission. That’s why we have mandatory exams. And the fact that you’ve been avoiding yours tells me there’s something wrong. So.” He grabbed a medical scanner from its perch against the wall. “Do you want to tell me, or do you want me to puzzle it out myself? Either way, you’re not leaving until I have an answer.”
Chekov tried to respond, and found he couldn’t get enough breath. When he finally forced air past the lump forming in his throat, he had to close his eyes to hide the wetness in them.
“Damnit, Chekov.” McCoy gently wrapped his hands around Chekov’s arms and pressed him back to sit on the biobed. “Tell me.”
Furious at himself for betraying his secret so easily, Chekov clenched his fists on his thighs. He held on to enough pride to say clearly, “I do not wish that it should appear in the official report, sir.”
McCoy hesitated. “I can’t lie in the records, Ensign. If there’s some danger the Fleet should know about--.”
“It is nothing like that,” Chekov said quickly. “No tactical danger. Doctor, it does not matter. It has no bearing on my ability to perform my duties.”
“Chekov.” McCoy reached out to put his hand over Chekov’s, then seemed to reconsider, and drew his hand back again. “It matters because you’re hurt. Even if whatever-it-is doesn’t interfere with your damn duties, it’s obviously not ‘nothing,’ so don’t feed me that.”
Chekov regarded the doctor for a long moment. He weighed the physical ache that hadn’t gone away since he’d returned, and the sick, cold feeling that had plagued him every time he closed his eyes. He said, “Tell me it will not go in the report.”
McCoy frowned, but he said, “Fine. It won’t go in the report.”
“Swear to me,” Chekov said. Any qualms he had about speaking to the doctor this way melted as he imagined what this information would do to Hikaru if it got out. “Please, swear.”
“I promise,” McCoy said solemnly. He didn’t press further, but simply waited for Chekov to continue.
Chekov thought of Hikaru, secure in his ignorance. He would never have to know. Hikaru could find someone else, someone more worthy of all he had to offer, someone who wouldn’t be too slow to acknowledge how much he mattered. Even if the ache Chekov carried couldn’t be healed by McCoy, still he’d saved Hikaru any pain, and he would treasure that victory. “I should have an exam,” Chekov said. He stood and began to disrobe. “But I tell you, doctor, the worst is over.”
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov, Mirror!Sulu/Chekov
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 7300
Warning: Graphic non-con, mild violence, abuse and mind-fuckery of the usual mirror!verse variety.
Author’s note: Written for a prompt at the issenterprise kink meme which I now can’t find. If you recognize the prompt and know where it is, link me! Spasiba to jaune_chat for beta-ing this into shape.
Summary: Chekov and Sulu have just begun to move beyond friendship into something more when a transporter malfunction sends Chekov into an alternate universe where Sulu has different priorities.
“You think Kirk will wrap this up by 17:00?” Hikaru muttered.
“Long before, I should think.” Chekov glanced at the door to the receiving room where the captain was engaged in negotiations with the rulers of this out-of-the-way planet. “The captain is very good at diplomacy.”
“Kind of,” Hikaru said, but he looked skeptical. He leaned back on the bench where they were waiting. “Do you want to have dinner together if we get back at a decent time?”
“Yes.” Chekov wrestled his grin down into a manageable smile. Though the security ensigns who rounded out the away team were sitting across the room, Chekov still wanted to maintain discretion. “I would like that.” The newness of this thing between them left Chekov unsure of his footing. Whereas before, eating meals with his best friend was a matter of course, now the prospect of dinner had Chekov itching to finish this mission and return to the ship. “Perhaps we could go to my quarters, after,” Chekov said in what he hoped was a casual tone.
“Alright.” Hikaru gave him a knowing half-smile, and Chekov felt his skin heat.
Even that mere suggestion of interest was enough to ignite Chekov’s imagination. In the two standard months since they’d acknowledged their mutual attraction, he and Hikaru had been slow to progress their intimacy beyond friendly touching. Hikaru had caught on early that Chekov was venturing into uncharted territory, and had insisted there was no rush. Still, Chekov suffered nagging doubts that he would somehow destroy not only their burgeoning relationship, but also their friendship by his ignorance in this area. He wanted to be confident and experienced, but he could not regret that each new thing he did with Hikaru was a first, a new experience. And each time Hikaru looked at Chekov like he’d just been given a valuable treasure, another of the defenses Chekov had built around his heart fell away.
Chekov glanced across at the security team, who were fiddling with their tricorders. He scooted closer to Hikaru. “Maybe we--.”
Kirk’s abrupt entrance interrupted Chekov. He strode into the anteroom, data padd in hand. The whole away team stood, but Kirk walked right to Chekov. One of the magistrates of this planet, a dark, willowy humanoid, stood in the doorway, watching carefully.
“Ensign.” Kirk handed him the padd. “Take these star charts back to the Enterprise and see if they’re what we need. Tell Commander Spock I’ll be continuing negotiations until I hear word back on these maps.”
“Yes sir.”
Kirk turned and strode back into the other room. The door closed behind him with an ominous thud.
Hikaru looked down at the padd, then back at Chekov. “Hurry up with those maps. I’m hungry.”
“I will do my best.”
“See you soon,” Hikaru said.
Chekov flipped open his communicator. “Enterprise. One to beam up.”
--
Chekov typically didn’t mind transporting; it didn’t make him nauseous or light-headed the way it did some others. This time, however, upon materializing in the main transporter room, he felt an acute sense of disorientation.
“I’m telling you it’s a problem with the damn interface,” Scotty snapped. “Readings are all over the place.”
Commander Spock, who was standing near the door, approached the control station. His eyes latched on to Chekov. “Ensign. Assist Mister Scott.”
Chekov froze where he stood for one breath, two, as the disorientation crystallized into a certainty that something was very wrong. Spock’s facial hair, the sash on Scott’s uniform, and the unfamiliar insignia on the wall all pointed to a mystery.
Under the piercing gaze of this Spock, who seemed even more inscrutable than the Spock he knew, Chekov stumbled off the transporter pad and went to stand at the console. He frowned at the data on display. “This is most unusual,” he said.
“Told you the atmospheric readings were off,” Scotty grumbled. “Damn thing will need a full diagnostic before I’m confident it’s safe to use again, Commander.”
“See to it, Mister Scott. Ensign, what are the captain’s orders?”
Chekov looked down at the padd he’d forgotten he was holding. “He wants me to analyze the information they provided. He will be continuing negotiations until he hears word.”
Spock’s expression didn’t change perceptibly, and Chekov dropped his eyes again, pretending to look at the transporter controls.
The door to the room hissed open, and when a security detail of three men appeared, Chekov felt sure he was about to die. He blamed on his fear the fact that it took him so long to recognize the man in the center as Hikaru Sulu. He wore a red security tunic and bore a long scar down the side of his face, but he was unmistakably Sulu.
“Commander,” Sulu said stiffly. “The Captain asked for a security detail to process anyone returning from the planet.”
“Such a procedure is unnecessary at this time. Ensign Chekov, perform your analysis with all haste, and report back to me. Mister Sulu, if your services are needed, you will be contacted.” Spock walked out without a backward glance.
With barely concealed disgust, Sulu nodded to his two companions, who went out the way they’d come. Quickly, Chekov tried to follow. Sulu caught his arm. “Come on, Pavel. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.” He guided Chekov to the door.
“The Captain’s waiting on the information he’s got, Sulu,” Scotty called after them.
Sulu looked back at Scotty. “I won’t keep him long.”
As soon as they were out in the deserted hallway, Sulu gave Chekov a hard look and a thin smile. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Chekov said. He was proud of how steady his voice sounded.
“Here’s a hint about subterfuge. No one would believe you’re stupid, Chekov, so don’t try it.” He pulled Chekov with him, and they emerged into a main corridor, this one laid out a little different than the Enterprise Chekov knew, and crowded with faces that looked, if familiar, a little off.
Chekov pulled against Sulu, but when Sulu tightened his grip warningly, he subsided. Chekov didn’t want to draw the attention of anyone else in this strange, nightmare world. Not world-universe. For obviously the anomaly Scotty’d mentioned had led to some problem with the transporters, and Chekov had ended up in a parallel universe. One in which, apparently, Sulu wore a scar on his face, a knife on his belt, and the red uniform of a security officer.
“My quarters,” Sulu hissed in his ear. “We’ve got to keep you away from the rest of them.”
Chekov relaxed a fraction. Of course: Sulu was only pretending to be stern with him so the others in the universe would be fooled. Sulu was trying to keep him safe. Chekov nodded his assent. Sulu patted him on the back and nodded. He set off down one of the branching corridors, leaving Chekov nothing to do but follow. If anyone here could help him, Hikaru would.
--
Sulu had to enter a code to access his quarters, but then he waved Chekov in while glancing around the corridor to make sure no one had followed them. The moment they were both inside, Sulu shoved Chekov against the wall and with a flick of his wrist pressed his knife to Chekov’s throat. “Whatever you are, you had better start talking.”
Chekov had time to think, distantly, that if he thought some alien being had possessed Sulu, he would probably act this way, too. But he gasped out, “Hikaru, it’s me.”
Sulu slammed his fist into Chekov’s belly, and Chekov narrowly avoided jerking forward onto the blade at his throat. He’d sparred with Hikaru before, but he’d never quite appreciated how much he pulled his punches. Nausea clawed its way up Chekov’s chest, and when he tried to breathe, his throat closed. Then the first wave of pain passed, and he was able to gulp in oxygen.
“This sort of thing gets boring very quickly.” Sulu whispered. “So explain what you are in the next ten seconds or I slide my knife into you and tell the captain I caught a spy. Good for the ship, good for my career. Everyone’s happy except you, because you’ll be dead.”
Chekov reassessed his assumption that this Sulu might be able to help him. Hikaru shouldn’t be capable of thinking such a thing, let alone saying it. He gasped for enough air to say, “I am from a different universe.” He was rewarded when Sulu’s grip relaxed a fraction. “But I am Pavel Andreievich Chekov. The transporter. Something happened with the transporter.”
“Pretty story. If you’re Chekov, then tell me something he would know.”
Chekov didn’t like the cold, calculating look in Sulu’s eyes. “If our universes are not the same, our lives are not the same. The same things did not happen to me.”
“You’re not very convincing, little spy.” Sulu pressed against the knife, and Chekov felt the edge dig into his skin.
“Hikaru, please. I was born in Yekaterinburg in January. My parents are Andrei and Irina Chekov,” he said. At Sulu’s lack of response, he hurried on. “I met you for the first time when I sat in on the advanced interplanetary navigation seminar and you asked me if I was Professor Nadri’s son because you did not believe I could be a student.” He and Hikaru had joked about this many times, but now the reminder brought only a blank stare.
“That never happened,” Sulu said.
“Last year when you found out hand-to-hand combat was the only academy class in which I’d received average marks, you started to teach me to fence,” Chekov continued frantically. “But you gave up after two months because my footwork was atrocious.”
“Your footwork is atrocious.” Sulu sounded thoughtful.
“So you taught me knives instead. And then…” Chekov’s breath stuck in his throat, but now Sulu looked curious.
“Then what, Chekov?” Sulu leaned in closer, but kept his knife hand steady.
“After that away mission on Sihnon Two, we were in quarantine together and…” He stumbled to a halt, suddenly uncertain if he should share this memory. He surely wasn’t betraying Hikaru’s trust to tell this to another version of himself, but the idea of giving their secret to this man sent a nervous shudder through Chekov.
Sulu waited, watching Chekov expectantly.
“And.” Chekov swallowed, and winced as the motion of his throat pressed the blade against his skin. He had to take this chance; if a similar thing had happened in this universe, the Chekov and Sulu who lived here must be keeping it a secret, too. “And you kissed me.”
“I kissed you.” With a flick of Sulu’s wrist, the knife disappeared back into its hip sheath. His hand returned to wrap around Chekov’s throat. “Like this?”
Sulu loomed closer. Chekov’s eyes flicked to the jagged line of the scar on his face just before Sulu’s mouth captured his. The gentleness of the kiss surprised Chekov. Sulu’s lips, soft and slow against Chekov’s, provided a strange counterpoint to his restraining hand around Chekov’s throat. Sulu pulled back a fraction, so their lips were barely separated. “Is that all?”
“Yes.”
Sulu yanked him away from the wall, spun him, and twisted his arm up against his back. He grabbed a handful of Chekov’s curls to force his hand back. He leaned in close, and his hot breath puffed against Chekov’s exposed neck. Chekov tried to turn his head, to look for the knife, but Sulu held him fast.
“That’s not what happened in quarantine. Not in my universe.” Sulu released his grip on Chekov’s hair and slid a hand down his chest instead. “First you sucked me, hard, until you choked. You were so eager to take me. Then…” His hand ghosted over the front of Chekov’s uniform trousers, as gentle as his whisper. “It must have hurt with only your spit to ease the way, but you begged for it. You screamed when I fucked you. You moaned like a whore.” He put on a high-pitched voice and a mocking accent. “‘Harder, harder! I need it very much!’” He wrapped his fingers slowly around the outline of Chekov’s cock, half-hard in his pants. “You came with me inside you and my hand on you, and you loved it.”
Chekov concentrated on holding absolutely still. He’d never heard words like that coming from Hikaru, not ever. The cadence and the tone of them were all wrong, but more than that, Hikaru was never cruel, never delighted in another’s humiliation. If the man touching him could speak so differently from his Sulu, logic dictated he was also capable of actions Chekov would never expect from the man he knew. Chekov clung steadfastly to the image of his Sulu, to the sound of his voice, low and soothing, the precise way he chose his words, and he drew strength from the memory. After two attempts, he found his voice. “That is not how it happened in my universe.”
“Go on.” Sulu loosened his grip on Chekov. “Tell me, then. What is he like where you come from? The other Sulu”
“He is not security,” Chekov said slowly. “He is a pilot.”
“No. That’s not what I mean.” Sulu pulled Chekov back further, until he had to lean against Sulu to keep his balance. “Tell me what he’s like in bed. Does he hurt you? What does it feel like when he’s inside of you?”
“I...” Chekov shook his head to ward off the images that came too easily to mind with those words. “I do not know.”
Sulu twisted Chekov’s arm farther, eliciting a grunt of pain. “Don’t be ashamed,” he said. He sounded amused. “I’ve heard it all before. In this universe, you love to talk.”
“I cannot tell you what I do not know,” Chekov snapped.
Sulu released his hold on Chekov and stepped away.
Chekov rubbed his arm and turned slowly to see Sulu frowning at him with head cocked. “Don’t lie to me,” Sulu said, low and dangerous.
“I do not lie.”
“You’re saying he hasn’t fucked you.”
“That’s right,” Chekov said defiantly. Anger flared in him at this imposter, who dared to speak so casually and derisively of what he and Sulu shared.
“Is there someone else?” Sulu narrowed his eyes. “Who? Kirk. He’s always had a soft spot for you. No. McCoy? I guess in a universe where all the crew are sentimental weaklings, that could work out nicely for you. Who do you belong to?”
“I belong to no one.”
“But you’re with me.” Sulu must have taken Chekov’s silence as an answer. “Explain.” He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and Chekov decided he needed to produce an answer to Sulu’s liking sooner rather than later.
“He doesn’t mind.” Even as Chekov said it, he wondered if it was a lie. If he’d misinterpreted Hikaru’s actions. But no, Hikaru had said, he’d said he wanted to take his time, that Chekov was young and he couldn’t stand it if he knew he’d scared Chekov into moving too quickly. “He wants to go slow. Not to rush things between us.” Until now he hadn’t considered if Hikaru would be this way with another partner, or if he had changed for Chekov, because Chekov couldn’t handle what Hikaru really needed.
“He wants?” Sulu prowled around behind Chekov.
“Because…” Chekov said miserably. “Because I…”
“Because you’re a virgin?” Sulu whispered in his ear. “I told you not to lie to me.”
Chekov turned abruptly to face Sulu. He hated this Sulu’s voice: the way it dripped with judgment and scorn. He wouldn’t have allowed anyone in his universe to bully him this way, and he should not allow this man to do so either, no matter who he resembled. He stiffened his spine and snarled, “Why did you bring me here? If I do not belong in your universe, why did you not bring me to the captain?”
“Oh Pavel.” Sulu’s laugh sounded nasty. “You don’t want me to take you to the captain. Or to Spock, for that matter. And you definitely don’t want me to tell them what you just told me. I think the captain would take it as a personal insult to have a virgin on his crew.”
Chekov tried a different tactic. “You must want your own Chekov back. Give me an hour in the transporter room and I can figure out how to switch us back.”
“Hm.” Sulu looked up, thoughtful. “It’s true you’re of no use to me like this. Not like my Pavel is. Maybe there’d be an advantage to keeping both of you.” He reached over to press his knuckles to Chekov’s cheek. Chekov shivered. “Or maybe you’d be a liability.” He stepped back, and Chekov could see he’d come to some conclusion. “I’m an honorable man, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Chekov said warily.
“I’ll get you to the transporter room so you can make the switch.”
“Thank you.” Chekov didn’t relax, even a little. He was waiting for the catch.
“But I want to give you a gift to take back to Sulu in your universe.” Sulu stepped forward, Chekov retreated, and he followed, until Chekov was trapped against the wall.
“Do not do this,” Chekov said. He tried to sound resolute: he wanted the kind of steel in his voice that Hikaru had when he spoke to the enemy, but judging from Sulu’s smirk, he’d fallen far short.
“Pavel. Pavel. It’s nothing you don’t want.” Through his pants, Sulu squeezed Chekov’s dick, which had gone soft in his terror. “Why so shy all of sudden?”
“I am not your Chekov.”
“I think you’re more like him than you want to admit.” Sulu struck quickly, like a snake. He shoved Chekov off center and used the arm Chekov thrust out for balance to swing him the short distance to the bed. Chekov stumbled and landed face down on the bed. In seconds, Sulu had pounced, pinning him to the mattress.
“Hikaru…” Pavel tried to put a note of warning in his voice, but that effort, too, fell flat.
“He doesn’t beg, my Pavel. Will you?”
Chekov clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He’d been captured by the enemy before and knew how to be strong. But no enemy had ever worn the face of one he loved. Loved. He loved Hikaru. He had to survive this to get back to the Enterprise and tell him so.
Sulu stripped Chekov with infinite care: shirts, boots, pants. Last he tugged Chekov’s underwear down and off. He slid a hand up the back of Chekov’s thigh to palm his ass. “This looks familiar.”
Chekov’s whole body was rigid, and the cold knot of dread in his stomach felt like an anchor holding him to the bed. He tried not to shiver at Sulu’s touch. He would be calm and brave under duress, as befitted an officer. He pushed the picture of Sulu out of his mind and tried to picture another enemy instead: a sneering Romulan instead of this demon wearing his lover’s face.
“My Pavel has a scar here.” Sulu’s thumb brushed the top of the curve of Chekov’s ass, at the left. “I carved my mark into him so there would never be any mistake about who he belonged to.”
Something cold and hard touched Chekov’s skin. He froze. Sulu traced the point of his blade over bare flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“I think I’ll let your own Sulu worry about that,” Sulu said eventually. “I’m doing him enough of a favor as it is.”
“This is no favor,” Chekov growled. He barely bit back the argument that if his Hikaru were here, he’d tell him so. Chekov needed no one to defend him; he would get out of this himself.
Sulu chuckled. “Pavel-my Pavel-was never innocent like this. Not while I knew him. He’s always been shrewd, mischievous. Vicious. You’ve got that in you too, I bet.”
Sulu grabbed Chekov’s shoulder to turn him over, and Chekov sprang into action. He threw his elbow back, aiming to break his opponent’s nose. The blow connected with something, but Chekov didn’t wait to analyze. He used the momentum of the move to roll away, off the bed.
Laughing, Sulu sprang after him and tackled him to the floor on his back, knocking the wind out of him. “See, Pavel? You do have something in common with the man I know. Of course, he would have known how to land a strike like that, but still, I appreciate the effort.”
He shifted his grip, and his knife flashed in Chekov’s sight. The blade came to rest against Chekov’s upturned right wrist. Chekov instantly stilled. His eyes latched onto the knife as if drawn there by a magnet.
“Listen carefully. I’d like you to follow instructions and be a good boy now. No one else on this ship is going to help you, but I promised I’ll get you a shot at the transporter, and I will. There is no way back to your own universe without my help.” The even cadence of the words drove into Chekov’s brain. Sulu gave him a moment to take that in before he continued. “If you give me trouble again, I’m going to put my knife through your wrist, right through the nerve cluster there. McCoy will be able to repair most of the damage, sure, but nerves are tricky things. You’d probably never recover enough fine motor control to be useful as a navigator. You need fast hands for a job like that. Don’t you?”
Chekov’s mind flashed to his post at the helm, to his hands flying over the controls, to a thousand calculations made as fast as his fingers could move, and fought against the stab of fear, keen as Sulu’s knife, of never returning to his duties, of being barred forever from the work he loved, the work he’d been born to do.
When Chekov didn’t answer, Sulu pressed the tip of his knife into the skin at the center of Chekov’s wrist.
Chekov’s fist clenched spasmodically. The blade broke through the skin, sending a thick drop of blood welling to the surface. “Yes,” Chekov gasped.
“Oh Pavel,” Sulu smiled. He dropped down to kiss him: shoved his tongue between Chekov’s lips and bullied him with his mouth. He ended with a close-mouthed kiss against Chekov’s slack lips. “Most men, I’d threaten to cut their balls off. But you…” He dragged the keen point of his knife in a small circle around the bright red pinpoint of blood he’d drawn. “I know you.” He slid a knee between Chekov’s legs, nudging his thighs apart. “Now. Are you going to behave?”
Chekov thought of the transporter. He had an inkling of what to look for in the logs to determine what had brought him here. He was certain he could find some way to reverse the process, but it would take time. Without Sulu watching his back, he had no prayer of having the time he needed.
“Pavel,” Sulu said warningly. He pressed his weight down against Chekov, making it hard to breathe.
“Yes,” Chekov said. His heart thumped in his chest, but he forced himself to take deep breaths, and to ignore Hikaru’s scent all around him: clean and salty, familiar and safe. He wasn’t safe here, and he wouldn’t be until he gave this Sulu what he wanted.
“Good boy.” Sulu patted his cheek. “Now relax. Relax.”
Sulu climbed off him. Chekov squeezed his eyes shut and called up the Enterprise transporter schematics from memory. He could get through this, ignore this, if he could only distract himself.
Chekov startled as warm fingers cradled his soft cock. He hadn’t expected Sulu to be this gentle. He braced himself for pain, but instead felt Sulu lick a wide stripe down his dick from tip to root. “Paaavel.” Sulu drawled the name, made it long and intimate. “You ever imagine this?”
“No,” Chekov pushed out his answer through gritted teeth.
Sulu muffled his laugh by wrapping his lips around the head of Chekov’s cock. Chekov tensed up despite himself, clenching his hands into fists as Sulu’s tongue circled him wickedly. Then Sulu dragged his mouth free. “You can’t say you’ve never thought about this.”
Instead of answering, Chekov squeezed his eyes more tightly closed. He didn’t want to speak of nights lying awake in his bed, muffling his moans into his pillow as he imagined how Hikaru’s mouth would feel on him and how his eyes would light when Chekov knelt to return the favor. He could not even speak of these things to his Hikaru, so he could not bear to tell them to this heartless stranger.
“Pavel.” A sharp note of warning underlay Sulu’s tone, and Chekov chanced opening his eyes. “I only have you a short time, so I suppose there’s no point in trying to train you. Here’s what we’ll do. Every time you lie to me, or refuse to answer a question, you’ll get thirty seconds with the agonizer.” At Chekov’s blank look, Sulu said, “I suppose they don’t have agonizers where you come from.”
Chekov shook his head slowly. He’d never heard of such a thing, but the name seemed obvious enough.
Sulu reached for something on his belt, and held up a small device Chekov didn’t recognize. He had only a moment to worry about its application before Sulu pressed it against Chekov’s chest. The world narrowed to the all-consuming pain that shot out from that spot to every fiber of Chekov’s body, burning and sizzling along his nerves. A ragged scream echoed in his ears for several seconds before he recognized his own voice. Sulu pulled the device away, and the pain vanished, leaving Chekov gasping and half-hard.
“Shh.” Sulu petted a hand down his chest. “You like that, see? I know you too well. Better than you know yourself. You can’t tell me the Sulu in your universe has never tried this on you.”
“No he has not.” Chekov cringed in embarrassment at how like a sob his words sounded.
“No. I suppose you wouldn’t be used to that sort of thing where you come from. So here’s what we’ll do. You rack up thirty seconds with the agonizer for each offense, and when you get me my Pavel back, he’ll take the punishment.”
“What?” Chekov’s eyes snapped open, and he saw Sulu looking very pleased with himself. “No, you cannot punish someone else for what I do.” He hated to think of his alternate self under the power of this twisted version of Sulu.
“Don’t tell me no. That’s thirty seconds.” Sulu patted him on the cheek and clipped his agonizer back on his belt. “He’s still you, just a different version. And my Pavel knows how to take his punishment. He’s had the agonizer before. He can take it. Back to my question.” His hand moved on Chekov’s cock, gently. “Have you ever thought about this?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Chekov temporized. He tried to shift his hips away from Sulu and escape his touch, but Sulu tugged sharply at his dick to still him.
“You’re up to a minute. I told you stupidity wasn’t a convincing disguise.” He smiled indulgently. “I mean do you fantasize about him?”
Chekov set his lips in a hard line. He would be a coward to allow another-even an alternate version of himself-to take his punishment, but wasn’t it also cowardly to betray the relationship he had with Hikaru to save his own skin?
Sulu shrugged and continued tugging at Chekov’s cock. “A minute thirty. I suppose since you personally won’t be taking the punishment, you--.”
“Yes,” Chekov said abruptly. He would take the pain of the betrayal on himself, rather than make the Chekov of this universe suffer for his pride. “Yes I do.”
“Good boy.” Sulu bent down to drop a kiss to the tip of Chekov’s cock. “What do you fantasize about?”
“Hikaru… Touching me.” Chekov swallowed past the tightness in his throat as Sulu’s mouth closed around him again. His cock, already half-hard from the adrenaline rush of the agonizer, began to respond. Chekov tried to concentrate on his words instead of on the feel of Sulu’s lips engulfing him. He didn’t know how to speak of these things, in Standard or in any other language. “How he looks at me.”
Sulu freed his mouth and closed his hand around Chekov, stroking expertly. “How he looks at you.”
“Yes.” Chekov squirmed under his touch, trying to ignore his body’s response to this face, this voice. Sulu’s hand on him had him anchored to this place; he couldn’t imagine an escape. In fact he was having trouble remembering anything outside this room.
“He looks at you like he loves you.” Sulu ran his thumb over the tip of Chekov’s cock, his face fixed in a pensive frown.
“Yes,” Chekov said weakly. At least, he thought Hikaru looked at him that way. He couldn’t picture Hikaru’s face, but he seemed to remember his eyes were kind. Now, though, they looked cruel, and as ugly as the scar along his temple.
“What else do you think of? When you touch yourself, what do you picture?” Sulu asked. He again swallowed down Chekov’s cock, which was fully hard now. Chekov tilted his head back so he wouldn’t have to see Sulu’s mouth stretched around him. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Hikaru, his Hikaru. Only flashes, partial images came to mind. “I think about his body. I like that he is strong. He knows what to do. His hands are so sure.”
Sulu’s hand returned to stroking him, and he pulled his mouth off with a wet sound. “So he has touched you.” Sulu’s hand twisted in just the way Chekov liked, and Chekov’s mouth dropped open on a gasp. “Have you touched him, Pavel?”
Chekov squeezed his eyes closed again, and saw Hikaru there, in his bed, their legs tangled together and each of their hands reaching into the open vee of the other’s pants, looking into eyes as wide with wonder as his own as they both gulped for breath.
“You have touched him. Have you sucked him? Had him in your mouth?”
Chekov shook his head quickly, and his fists clenched again. He’d thought about it, thought about asking if he could, thought about what Hikaru’s face would look like undone with pleasure, thought about the pride of being able to take strong, brave Hikaru to pieces like that.
“But you want to, don’t you?”
Chekov nodded helplessly and tried not to squirm as Sulu continued to stroke him, pulling him inexorably closer to release.
“Do you think about fucking him?”
Chekov’s face heated. His mouth gaped, but he couldn’t form an answer, because that was not what he thought about. In all his fantasies, Hikaru was the one moving inside of him, brushing hot fingers across Chekov’s face as he whispered meaningless, filthy things about how Chekov felt, how good he was, how worth all the waiting.
“You don’t,” Sulu said, voice low and rough. “You think about him fucking you, don’t you?” Sulu slid his hand faster along Chekov’s length. “Him filling you up and pounding into you and holding onto you like he needs you to live. You want all of him. You want him to lose himself in you. You want to give him everything you are. Don’t you, Pavel?”
“Please,” Chekov cried. His hands flew up to brace against Sulu’s arms. Sulu gave him two more hard strokes, and then Chekov’s hips jerked hard as release ripped through him, wringing him dry.
In the hazy aftermath, Chekov saw Sulu get up, shuck his pants, and stand next to him. He poured something onto his fingers and rubbed them over his cock, which stood proud and hard. He knelt between Chekov’s thighs and hooked his hand under Chekov’s knee to life up his leg. “Easy now. I just have to do this.” He pushed forward. Chekov felt the wet press of Sulu’s cock at his entrance.
Chekov crashed out of his endorphin haze. He tried to pull away, but Sulu pulled him back by the waist. “Shh. Relax. Just relax.”
Sulu pushed in again, harder this time, and held Chekov in place. Chekov kept his scream behind his teeth, but barely. Pain shot through him, not as all-consuming as the agonizer, but worse somehow for being so raw and focused. It couldn’t work, Chekov was sure. Nothing so large could possibly fit inside him, not like this.
“Let me in,” Sulu growled. He grabbed Chekov’s hips and pulled, something gave, and then the pain receded in an instant from blinding agony to a sharp ache that seemed almost a welcome relief.
“There,” Sulu said shakily. “Pavel… God, you feel…” He laughed. Chekov felt the movement of it shake through him, and he clutched desperately at the floor. “Amazing,” Sulu said. “I’m just barely in, and this… My Pavel never felt like this.” He shifted his knees further apart, but thankfully didn’t penetrate Chekov any deeper.
“There.” He rubbed his hand against Chekov’s hip. “That was the worst part. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Is that why you were making him wait? Because you thought it would hurt?”
“No,” Chekov ground out. His eyes stung, and he squeezed them closed so Sulu wouldn’t see his tears. Even if he’d known it would hurt like this, he wouldn’t have minded. It wasn’t his body he’d been trying to protect, but his heart. Too late, too late. He’d given his heart to Sulu already, and gotten this monster in return.
“You’re fine,” Sulu said gently. “You can cry if you want. I don’t mind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Oh Pavel.” He eased forward, and slid in more of his slicked length. Chekov clenched his teeth against the spike in pain.
“You are different from my Pavel, but you’re alike in some ways, too. The way your eyes look when you come. The way your mouth twitches when you’re in pain. Your cock… Both of you like to be touched the same way. You know something?” Sulu leaned in, and his cock speared further into Chekov. “If you’re a little like my Chekov, that means I must be a little like your Sulu.”
Chekov shook his head vehemently, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Sulu shifted, pulled out of Chekov a few inches, and pressed slowly back in. “If you’re fantasizing about him, don’t you think he’s fantasizing about you? About this?” Sulu snapped his hips forward to bury himself fully. He pressed their bodies together, trapping Chekov’s softening cock and the mess of his cooling come between them. “I bet he wants the same thing I do. Does he say, ‘It doesn’t matter, Pavel, we can wait. I’ll go as slow as you like,’” Sulu said in a mocking voice.
“It is not that way,” Chekov snarled, but Sulu’s words sunk into his chest like claws.
“What he really wants is to pin you down and fuck you until you can’t get out of bed.” Sulu pulled out and slammed back in, knocking Chekov’s breath out of him. Then he did it again, and again, a slow, agonizing rhythm. He pressed down against Chekov, his face inches from his ear. “He wants to claim you and hurt you, because you bare your throat for him like a dog.”
Chekov struck out with clenched fists. Sulu caught his hands easily and pinned them at his sides. Chekov kept struggling, but he couldn’t unseat Sulu, couldn’t stop him, and after a moment, he slumped back to the floor. “You are nothing like him,” he said faintly.
Sulu paused above him. His smile looked almost sad. “You haven’t seen what’s in our head, Pavel. I have.”
--
After, Sulu gave Chekov a clean uniform and escorted him to the deserted main transporter room. Pavel found a solution in twenty-six minutes, but spent another eighteen trying to find a way to return to his own universe without switching with his counterpart. He didn’t want to leave any Chekov here, even if he belonged to this world. He couldn’t imagine how different his other self could be, if he was somehow warped and evil as Sulu had been… If Chekov had that capacity within him.
At forty-four minutes, Sulu came in from where he’d been guarding the corridor. “Spock’s on his way,” he said, grim-faced. “Do you have it figured out or not?”
“Yes,” Chekov said reluctantly. He entered in the sequence he needed and quickly programmed a subroutine to purge all record of the procedure so it couldn’t be used again. “You must activate it.” He stepped toward the transporter pad, but Sulu caught him around the waist.
“Be a good boy, Pavel. I’m sure your Hikaru will enjoy your new tricks.” He kissed Chekov on the forehead and let him go.
--
In his report, Chekov stated that the Sulu in the alternate universe had helped him escape, which was technically true. He feared that an accurate report might somehow reflect badly on Hikaru. Besides, he’d already lied to McCoy. He’d brushed off the doctor’s request for a follow-up exam by claiming he was busy with the star charts from the mission, despite the fact that the captain had insisted on forty-eight hours leave and assigned the new maps to someone else. Chekov tried to concentrate on his disappointment at not getting the first look at the new star charts to distract himself from what he knew must be done.
Chekov saw Hikaru the second day, at mess for the midday meal. Hikaru hurried over to him with a concerned wave. “Pavel!” Hikaru tossed down his tray and slid into the seat across from Chekov. “You don’t believe in answering your communicator anymore? I was worried about you.”
“It is nothing.”
“Kirk doesn’t hand out forty-eight hours of leave for ‘nothing,’ Pavel. What’s the deal with the transporter accident? Are you injured?” His expression of concern seemed genuine, but Chekov couldn’t look at him without seeing the ugly scar the other Sulu bore.
“I am not injured. Forget about the accident. Listen, Hikaru.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “I would rather eat alone.”
“Have I done something to upset you?” Hikaru asked anxiously.
“I…” Chekov made an effort to steady his hand on the tray before it started to shake. “I made a mistake. About us.”
Hikaru’s face dropped into a frown. “What do you mean?”
“I think I have confused friendship with something else." Chekov fixed his gaze at a point on the table between them. "I was happier when we were only friends. Do you understand?”
Hikaru stared at him, caught off-guard as he never was when facing the enemy. “Oh,” he said weakly.
“I did not wish things to become uncomfortable between us, so I was reluctant to say this before. But I must.”
Hikaru kept staring, and Chekov could practically see him working through all the available data and trying to fit it to this conclusion. Finally, he said haltingly, “I apologize if I did anything--.”
Chekov waved a hand to stop him. “Of course. I must…” Chekov stood, abandoning his tray and a still-reeling Hikaru, and walked away as sedately as he could manage.
He kept his eyes on the floor in the corridor lest anyone should try to talk to him, so he never saw McCoy coming.
“Ensign.” The doctor grabbed his arm. “No more excuses. You’re coming in for that exam right now.”
“Yes sir. Of course, doctor.” Chekov glanced back toward the mess, then followed willingly.
McCoy led him past the main area of sickbay back to a private room. He stood next to the door and waved Chekov in. Chekov gave him a wary glance, but he knew he couldn’t very well refuse now that he’d come to sick bay. He stepped into the exam room and tried not to shudder as McCoy closed the door behind them.
McCoy took up a position between Chekov and the door and folded his arms across his chest. “Now do you want to explain to me what’s wrong, or do you want me to do a full exam?”
“A full exam is not necessary,” Chekov said. He wondered if lying would ever get easier. “As I have said, I was not injured during my short time away.”
“Pull my other leg, it plays Jingle Bells,” McCoy snorted. “If you picked up some alternate universe disease you’re embarrassed to tell me about, and it starts spreading to the crew--.”
“No!” Chekov said, horrified. “Doctor, I would never endanger the ship. Never.”
“Okay, okay. Kid, it’s no shame to have gotten hurt. Hell, Jim comes back with some new injury or allergic reaction after every damn away mission. That’s why we have mandatory exams. And the fact that you’ve been avoiding yours tells me there’s something wrong. So.” He grabbed a medical scanner from its perch against the wall. “Do you want to tell me, or do you want me to puzzle it out myself? Either way, you’re not leaving until I have an answer.”
Chekov tried to respond, and found he couldn’t get enough breath. When he finally forced air past the lump forming in his throat, he had to close his eyes to hide the wetness in them.
“Damnit, Chekov.” McCoy gently wrapped his hands around Chekov’s arms and pressed him back to sit on the biobed. “Tell me.”
Furious at himself for betraying his secret so easily, Chekov clenched his fists on his thighs. He held on to enough pride to say clearly, “I do not wish that it should appear in the official report, sir.”
McCoy hesitated. “I can’t lie in the records, Ensign. If there’s some danger the Fleet should know about--.”
“It is nothing like that,” Chekov said quickly. “No tactical danger. Doctor, it does not matter. It has no bearing on my ability to perform my duties.”
“Chekov.” McCoy reached out to put his hand over Chekov’s, then seemed to reconsider, and drew his hand back again. “It matters because you’re hurt. Even if whatever-it-is doesn’t interfere with your damn duties, it’s obviously not ‘nothing,’ so don’t feed me that.”
Chekov regarded the doctor for a long moment. He weighed the physical ache that hadn’t gone away since he’d returned, and the sick, cold feeling that had plagued him every time he closed his eyes. He said, “Tell me it will not go in the report.”
McCoy frowned, but he said, “Fine. It won’t go in the report.”
“Swear to me,” Chekov said. Any qualms he had about speaking to the doctor this way melted as he imagined what this information would do to Hikaru if it got out. “Please, swear.”
“I promise,” McCoy said solemnly. He didn’t press further, but simply waited for Chekov to continue.
Chekov thought of Hikaru, secure in his ignorance. He would never have to know. Hikaru could find someone else, someone more worthy of all he had to offer, someone who wouldn’t be too slow to acknowledge how much he mattered. Even if the ache Chekov carried couldn’t be healed by McCoy, still he’d saved Hikaru any pain, and he would treasure that victory. “I should have an exam,” Chekov said. He stood and began to disrobe. “But I tell you, doctor, the worst is over.”