1. Doctor's Visit

_(A/N:_**_The author of this story is_****_female-to-male transgender_**_. Language that is used in this fanfiction are terms that_**_I_**___am comfortable using, but may not__coincide with other people's 'correct' terms for transgender terms, especially having to do with anatomy. Everyone has their own version of what feels 'right' to them, and they may not be the same as mine. That being said, do not comment about what terms should be used, because I will ignore them. If you do not like the terms and ideas in this fanfiction, please do not continue reading it._

_Also, in regards to Chekhov's accent, I am basing it off of people who I know personally whose first language is Russian. When they speak English, I rarely hear words like "a, am," etc. I am basing his accent off of linguistical Russian-to-English, rather than proper English grammar.)_

"It's time for your monthly check-up." Bones said, taking out his box of latex gloves. Chekov groaned.

"Can't I just get shot?" he whined.

"You know you need to get checked. It's for your health." Bones said sternly. The young Russian sighed.

"Da, yes sir." He mumbled, fidgeting in his seat. Ever since he was a kid, he _hated _going to the doctor. All the white walls and medical equipment always made him nervous, even to this day. He felt he should have been used to it by now, but nonetheless he still flinched when Bones took a blood sample from the crook of his elbow. He placed the vial in a scanner, which took a count of all the different types of blood cells in his system. After about thirty seconds, the scanner beeped.

"Hm. It looks like your red blood cell count is a little higher than last time." Bones noted. "I'm going to have to lower your dose a bit to bring them back down to normal."

"But—"

"It's not going to effect any of the changes." He interrupted. "The reduction will be so low that you wouldn't even notice. It's just to bring your blood cell count down, because that could be dangerous."

Chekov bit his lip in frustration.

"Do you understand?" he asked after a moment. Chekov nodded. He knew that Bones was just trying to help him through a medical standpoint and that he was just doing his duty as a doctor, but lowering his dose by even a fraction made him nervous.

"Alright, let's give you your shot and you'll be on your way." He said. Chekov slipped off his pants halfway down his legs and Bones injected the testosterone into his thigh. Chekov winced.

"Oh come on, you should be used to this by now?" Bones laughed, sealing the entry point with a liquid bandage.

"Still feels weird." Chekov said. "I know, I know, I should 'take it like man.'" He smirked.

"Oh believe me, there are those that are far worse." Bones said. "Like when I had to give Scotty his vaccinations, he nearly fainted—Jim, what the hell are you doing in here?"

Chekov's blood turned to ice and he frantically tried to pull up his pants.

"I was just wondering if you had anything for a hangover—"

"Get out of here, I'm in the middle of an examination!" Bones exclaimed.

"What's the big deal?" Kirk asked. "Our ensign looks healthy to me."

"Out!" Bones roared, practically shoving him out the door.

"Yeesh, not so loud…" Kirk grumbled before Bones sealed the door shut.

"Sorry, Pavel." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "I should have made sure it was locked."

"It's okay, sir." Chekov said. "I was just afraid zat he would hear what we talk about."

"Pavel, you know that no one will judge you for what's between your legs, right? I certainly don't. None of the crew do."

"You are doctor." Chekov pointed out. "You know how body and mind work, and why I was born zis way. I like ze keptin, but he can be… nosy. I fear zat he may try to picture me as girl and zat he won't take me seriously."

"Jim can be an idiot, but he's not closed-minded." Bones said. "You have all the rights in the world to tell who you want, but I can guarantee that he wouldn't think of you any differently."

"I guess you're right. Zank you."

"You're welcome; now report to your shift before Spock asks me where you are… again."

Chekov could still hear his heart pounding as he made his way to the bridge. He hoped that Kirk didn't see him with his pants down… and yet in the back of his mind, he secretly hoped that he _did_.

Chekov shook his head. He didn't feel very comfortable telling Kirk about his condition, mostly because it wasn't on a need-to-know basis for him. The only person who really knew what was going on was McCoy—after all, he was the one giving Chekov his monthly checkups and hormone shots. He had a great advantage to keep his cover, which was that he was still quite young compared to everyone else. He had joined the Enterprise crew when he was seventeen and had only started hormones six months prior to joining. To the rest of the crew, he just seemed to be developing later, which no one seemed to bat an eye at. Currently nineteen, he no longer looked like a young teenager, and the hormones had caught up to him.

The only thing that bothered him with his transition is that the testosterone sometimes clouded his brilliant mind and made him very, _very _horny. Luckily, he was able to control that now, but the one person who he couldn't help thinking about when he had to relieve himself was the ship's very handsome captain. Through the transition, Chekov never found himself attracted to women, or even to men to a certain extent. He had a speculation that he was simply asexual, which was completely fine with him. Then he met James Tiberius Kirk.

To say that he was smitten with the captain would be a huge understatement. Thinking about him drove Chekov _crazy_. Yet, even with these strong feelings, he had no desire to pursue him; after all, Kirk was well-known for being a _woman_-izer. He thought it was better just to keep him in his thoughts.

"Spock to Chekov. Your presence on the bridge is becoming increasingly necessary, Ensign."

The page startled him so much that he jumped.

"Y-yes Meester Spock, I'm on my way." Chekov stammered, now running at this point. He was _not _in the mood to be pried for information. If Kirk could be nosy, Spock was a close second. He finally barreled through, nearly hitting Sulu on the way.

"You're two minutes and thirty-six seconds late." Spock said. "I assume that Dr. McCoy was the one that kept you?"

"D-da, yes sir." Chekov panted. Spock looked like he was going to say something else until Kirk came in and assumed his position on the captain's chair. He looked tired, to say the least, but better than he did when Chekov saw him earlier.

On the contrary, the fresh dose of testosterone in the young Russian's system was starting to make him antsy. He suddenly wished that he had waited until he was off-duty to get his injection; he felt like he could run through deep space.

"So Mr. Chekov, how long do you think until we reach Earth?" Kirk asked.

"With ze engine not working to full capacity, ze time we will reach Earth is not accurate." Chekov explained. "Computer says we will reach by 1300 hours tomorrow, but I zink it will be more like 1500."

Kirk sighed, rubbing his temple.

"I'm sowry, Keptin."

"It's not your fault, Mr. Chekov. Without you, we wouldn't even have had an engine at all." He smirked. Chekov blushed.

"I try to fix as much as possible, but there is only so much she can take without proper equipment. I mean, if I was not under state of panic, I may have been able to—"

"Whoa, Chekov, slow down!" Kirk laughed. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Da, Keptin." He muttered, blushing even harder. Kirk paused for a moment, as if he didn't believe him, before he started giving orders to the rest of the crew. Chekov focused on his work, but he couldn't help but feel elated whenever Kirk would mention that he had nearly single-handedly saved the Enterprise's engine from total destruction.

He was so focused on the computer that he didn't even notice that Kirk was right next to him before he whispered in his ear, making Chekov jump.

"I want to talk to you after your shift, Ensign." Kirk murmured.

"What? I am in trouble?" Chekov asked, breaking out into a sweat.

"No. I just want to talk to you, okay?" he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're so jumpy, Ensign. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Da, Keptin. Just feeling… little bit off." He admitted.

"Just page me when you're done."

Chekov nodded.

"Da, sir."


	2. A Night on the Town

"You wanted to speak to me, Keptin?" Chekov said over his pager.

"Yeah. Come to my quarters, I'll meet you outside the door."

'Yes, sir!" Chekov exclaimed. Kirk said he wasn't in trouble, but whenever anyone wanted to speak to him privately, Chekov _always _assumed he messed up somehow. The thought gave him anxiety.

He saw Kirk outside his door, just as he said.

"What is wrong?" Chekov asked.

"Nothing's wrong, ensign. How old are you again?"

"Nineteen, sir."

Kirk sighed.

"Close enough. I don't know about you, but I _really _need to get a drink when we get back to Earth; none of the shitty stuff we have here. Bones does too, maybe even more than I do." He smirked. "You should come with us; you of all people deserve to relax after all of that madness we've had."

"I don't zink I could pull off getting into bar wizout identification." Chekov said. "Zey wouldn't let me in."

"Don't worry about that." Kirk said. "I know the guy who owns it. You in?"

Chekov didn't answer right away. Of course he wanted to spend time with Kirk outside of Star Fleet, but he wasn't much of a drinker. Still, maybe he could find out less about the Captain and more about Kirk himself.

"Da, I will go." Chekov said.

"I thought so." Kirk said. "Just don't tell anyone. I don't need a lecture… you know who I'm talking about."

The ensign nodded, pursing his lips shut as if to keep the information from flying out of his mouth.

"Aye, sir."

Sure enough, that night, Chekov was miraculously able to get into the bar with Kirk and McCoy. He had never been to one before, and it wasn't as glamorous as he thought it would be. It was dark, noisy, and by the time they had been there only an hour, two women and a man had made very lewd comments about wanting to get into his pants.

"You've barely touched your vodka. I thought Russians liked that?" Kirk asked.

"Best not to assume, Jim." McCoy muttered.

"I am not much of drinker." Chekov admitted. "Never liked taste of alcohol verwy much."

"Oh… why didn't you say so?"

He ordered something that Chekov couldn't hear, but suddenly there was a glass in front of him that was a mute pink color.

"Try that." Kirk said. Cautiously, Chekov took a sip and was surprised that it tasted like strawberry lemonade.

"Tastes good!" Chekov said.

"Be careful, kid." McCoy warned.

"Come off it, Bones, just let him have fun."

The "fun" that Chekhov ended up having was having five or six of whatever that was until he couldn't sit up straight. He remembered hazily leaving the bar and after that, nothing.

"We should have never let him go." McCoy said. "Look at him, he can't even walk!"

"He's fine. He can sleep it off."

"Where? I don't think he has a room."

"He can sleep in mine, it's no big deal."

If he hadn't also been under the influence, McCoy would have strongly objected to that, but his inebriated brain told him that he didn't want to be the one dealing with the kid if he threw up.

"Fine, Jim. If something happens that's not normal, you know how to get to me."

During the conversation, Chekov was slurring something in Russian in the background.

"Come on Chekov, let's go."

By the time they got back to the hotel, Chekov was nearly passed out and Kirk felt like he hadn't drank anything at all.

"Keptin, do you want to hear secret?" Chekov slurred, grinning drunkenly.

"Not if you wouldn't tell me if you were sober." Kirk said, changing his shirt. Chekov spoke something in jumbled Russian—presumably his secret—before promptly falling asleep on the bed.

"Jesus Christ, Pavel." Kirk laughed quietly. He hoped that the Russian wouldn't feel weird waking up next to him the next morning. Kirk couldn't believe he fell for the younger man, but he simply couldn't deny his feelings any longer. No matter how far he pushed them into the back of his head, he always felt a strange jolt go through his body whenever he looked at him.

But how could he not? With Chekov's high cheekbones and big gray eyes, he was the epitome of male beauty. But it wasn't merely his looks that Kirk couldn't get over; his mannerisms, his pure genius, and his gentle soul drove Kirk _crazy. _

And now here he was, passed out on his bed.

He squinted his eyes and noticed a drying spot on Chekov's shirt—most likely alcohol. He searched through his drawers for the smallest shirt he could find, but even then it was going to be way too big for him.

"Hey, Chekov, are you awake?" Kirk asked. No answer. He lifted Chekov's arms and started to ride up his shirt. He was even thinner than Kirk imagined, and he was only half-surprised to find nearly no body on him whatsoever. He got his shirt up to his chest when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

_What the hell are those?_

He stared wide-eyed at the large, dark pink scars etched deep into his chest. He had no idea what they could possibly be.

_Lung surgery? _He thought, thinking that it was the only plausible explanation, but there was something else that threw him off. Coming from the middle of the scars was another smaller one that went up right to his nipples before stopping.

_It can't be his lungs. It almost looks like someone removed something—_

It suddenly hit him and his blood turned cold.

_I've seen this before. _

He covered his mouth and he started to fight back tears—he hadn't cried since the death of Christopher Pike a long time ago.

_God Pavel, what kind of hell have you gone through?_


	3. A Shocking Discovery

While Chekov slept soundly next to him, Kirk was wide awake. He couldn't stop thinking about what he saw.

_Why didn't he tell me?_

He briefly knew someone back in the Academy who had those same scars on his chest. He didn't really think much of it until he saw them on his ensign's body. He started raking through his thoughts, desperately trying to figure out if he had ever said anything that could have possibly offended him.

_Have I ever called him a girl as a joke? No, I don't think I have… Fuck, Pavel, why didn't you tell me?_

He figured that this was why Bones was so secretive over his check-ups. He wondered if anyone else knew besides Bones, in fact. Kirk couldn't imagine going through having that kind of a burden on his shoulders and feeling like he couldn't tell anyone. Chekov seemed happy, but what kind of pain did he have to deal with for his whole life? Did other people make him feel unsafe and therefore didn't tell anyone?

He suddenly felt sick to his stomach during those times where he teased Chekov for those times that he wouldn't change in front of anyone—he either went into a stall or avoided the room entirely. He thought that he was just shy, but knowing the truth made him want to punch himself in the face.

_I'm such an asshole._

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up to Chekov making a cry of distress.

"Wha… what's going on?" Kirk grumbled.

"I did not sleep in zis shirt!" Chekov exclaimed. He had a look of absolute fear in his eyes. Kirk suddenly remembered that he had changed his clothes the night before because they had spilled drinks on them.

_Shit. _

"Pavel, calm down—"

"Did you do zis?" he asked. He looked like he was going to cry, making Kirk bite his lip.

"Yes, I did." He said finally. "Your shirt was dirty and I didn't want you sleeping in alcohol-soaked clothes. I know you're freaking out because you know what I saw."

Chekov was so mortified that his whole face was bright red.

"Pavel, please, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. It doesn't matter to me what kind of scars you have and how they got there. I wish I had known, but it's not in my place to know without you telling me. For that, I'm sorry."

"No, Keptin, I'm ze one who is sorry." Chekov said quietly. "I wanted to tell you, but I got scared. I did not want you to think of me as woman."

"And I don't. I never will. What body you were born in… it doesn't matter. You have every right to change it to how you see fit, and the right to feel comfortable in your own skin. Pavel, are you happy?"

Chekov glanced downwards.

"Happier than I was before." He shrugged. "Before hormones and surgery."

"But not completely?" Kirk asked. Chekov shook his head.

"I am always constantly afraid ze wrong person will find out, and zat I will be looked a differently than everyone else."

Kirk didn't know what to say. Instead, he hugged the ensign tightly in his arms.

"If _anyone _treats you less than what you deserve, they'll answer to my fist." Kirk whispered. "Probably to both of them."

"Zank you, Keptin." Chekov said quietly.

"What do you need right now?" Kirk asked, letting him go. Chekov stared at him. Kirk seemed sincere about his offer, and he was at least relieved that he no longer had to sneak around so that Kirk wouldn't find out. After a few moments, Chekov spoke.

"I need something for zis hangover." He mumbled. Kirk smiled and burst out laughing.

"That's no problem, Pavel. But seriously though, please tell me if there's _anything _I can do for you."

"Why do you care so much about zis, sir?" Chekov asked.

"Because you're more than my ensign; you're one of the few people I consider one of my best friends."

Chekov smiled at that.

"Da, me too, sir."


	4. Broken Tensions

The four days that it took for the Enterprise's engine to be fixed were the most eye opening in Chekov's life. After Kirk found out his secret that he kept carefully hidden for so long, he realized that the captain really did care about his well-being. Kirk found himself telling Chekov his own secrets that he never shared with _anyone_—like how angry he was as a child growing up without a father and his intense fear of failure. Kirk felt a huge weight lift off of his shoulders from confiding with Chekov, who listened carefully to each and every one of Kirk's stories.

Chekov never thought he would say this, but in many ways, he and Kirk were the same. They shared their sorrows with almost no one else but each other, feeling as if nobody would understand. Although they had very different situations in life, it was clear that they could emphasize with the pain they each went through.

Back aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, they were Captain and Ensign while on duty—but during downtime, they were inseparable. They were completely unaware that some of the crew members were growing very suspicious, especially Dr. McCoy and Uhura—who were both much more concerned about Chekov.

…

"You seem to be distracted, Lt. Uhura."

She clicked her tongue at the familiar voice.

"You noticed? It must be more obvious than I thought." She said.

"You slouch when you are not focused." Spock noted. Uhura sat up and turned her chair to face him. "I believe you must concerned over our Ensign, Mr. Chekov."

"How do you know that?" she hissed.

"Considering the circumstance of the Captain spending an exorbitant amount of time with him and your need to protect Mr. Chekov, I assumed that this would be the most logical answer to your lack of concentration."

"My 'need to protect?' He's my friend, Spock."

"Yes, but knowing of his situation and his vulnerability, you give him ease by having him be able to confide in you." Spock said. Uhura sighed.

"Okay, fine. Yes, I suppose I am a bit 'protective' of him, but how can I not be? He's so young—still practically a child."

"Mr. Chekov is nineteen years old—legally, an adult."

"I know, but he's still clueless about adult emotions."

"I do not understand your meaning, Lt. Uhura."

"I think you do."

Spock stared at her blankly for a moment.

"You are implying feelings of love and lust."

"And heartbreak." Uhura said. "And believe me, the absolute _last _person I want to make him experience these feelings is our very own Captain Kirk."

Spock's eyebrow rose slightly.

"You believe that Mr. Chekov may have developed a romantic interest in the captain?"

"Well, why else would they spend so much time together? Chekov just gets this… look in his eyes whenever he sees Kirk. With all the things that have happened to him, I just don't want him to get hurt."

"It is very likely that their relationship is simply plutonic." Spock pointed out. "I do not ever recall the Captain having any interest in men—nor Mr. Chekov, for that matter."

"You might be right. Maybe I'm just overthinking this." Uhura muttered, burying her face into her hands.

"Your distrust for the Captain is… extraordinary."

"I don't distrust Kirk, I really don't. He's a great captain and has saved our asses so many times. Romantically, though, he has a few things to learn. I've seen the way he interacts with picking up women and having one-night stands. Chekov is not that kind of person; I don't want him getting lured into a sense of false hope. Kirk trusts you. If he says _anything _to you that might end up hurting Chekov in some way, don't let him do it."

"I cannot control the Captain's actions, you know."

"Please, Spock? For me?" she asked. He sighed a little.

"I will try my best."

….

"What the hell…" Kirk grumbled. Chekov managed to beat him in ten moves. Again.

"Sorwy, Keptin.." Chekov said.

"Don't be sorry, Pavel. I was a fool to challenge our best strategist to a game of chess."

Chekov beamed, his gray eyes gleaming in the light. Kirk smiled back until he noticed a thread from Chekov's t-shirt on his neck. He reached over and grabbed it; suddenly, Chekov yelped.

"What the hell was that about?" Kirk asked.

"Nothing, I'm just… um… I do not know ze word…"

Kirk took a guess and lightly brushed his fingertips against the back of Chekov's elbow. He cried out again, jumping back.

"Oh, you're trying to tell me that you're _ticklish._" He smirked. Chekov's eyes grew wide as Kirk lunged at him, tickling every exposed patch of skin.

"N-no, Keptin! Don't do zat!" Chekov shrieked. Kirk managed to slide his hand underneath Chekov's shirt, gently tickling his stomach. "Ah! No, no, don't do it there—!"

By this point, Chekov was laughing so hard that he was nearly in tears. When he started twitching and writhing, Kirk then decided that he had enough. Chekov lay on the floor, his face bright red and panting.

"So mean, Keptin." He teased.

"I need some sort of retribution after getting my ass kicked by a teenager five times in a row." Kirk said.

"I am almost twenty!" Chekov protested.

"And I'm not getting any younger."

The way Kirk said it made Chekov's eyes grow wide. His tone become much more serious. Suddenly, Kirk got on all fours and loomed above him, staring into his eyes.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend, Pavel?" he asked, his voice low. Chekov swallowed.

"Uh… n-no, sir. I've never been interested in women."

Kirk smiled wide.

"That's good to know."

Before Chekov could comprehend what was going on, he felt Kirk's lips against his. He gasped in shock—surely he was dreaming?

He was in such a surprised daze that he didn't realize when Kirk stopped abruptly.

"Fuck… I'm sorry, Pavel. I don't know what got over me." He said, his voice returning to normal.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked. Kirk blinked.

"Uh… you looked a little freaked out."

"Not scared. Surprised, mostly." Chekov corrected. "Zis is… real?"

Kirk nodded slowly.

Chekov grabbed his face with both hands and crashed his mouth into Kirk's with enough force to knock him over. Kirk quickly regained his dominance and practically threw Chekov into his bed, ready to tear his clothes off like an animal.

"K-Keptin…" the younger man groaned.

"C'mon Pavel, just call me Jim." He murmured, sucking on his neck hard enough to leave a massive, dark purple mark. Chekov gasped when he felt hands underneath his shirt, lifting it up higher up his chest—

"Dr. McCoy to Kirk, you're needed." Came a voice over the pager. Kirk groaned loudly, fumbling his hand on the table until he found it.

"Can this wait? I'm busy." He said, going right back to kissing Chekov's neck.

"No it can't, you know the drill. I have to check to make sure that the radiation levels in your body haven't risen."

"Really? Now?" Kirk asked, rubbing his palm between Chekov's legs and nearly making him yelp.

"Jim, you know he will not take no for answer." Chekov whispered frantically.

"Yes, Jim. Now."

Kirk grunted in frustration.

"Fine. Give me a minute."

He threw the pager back onto the table and rubbed against Chekov's crotch harder.

"Gah, Jim! Don't do zat now!" he hissed. "Once I get hard it won't go away."

"When I come back, I assure you I'll help you get rid of it." He gently nipped his ear. "You won't remember how to speak Russian when I'm done with you." He murmured into it.

Chekov shivered violently.

"Hang tight, I'll be right back."

Chekov sat awkwardly in Kirk's bed, waiting for the captain to return. He didn't know how long the test would take; ten, fifteen, twenty minutes? It was nearing the fifteen minute mark and he was becoming impatient. His sexual frustration was the only thing he could think about and it was growing stronger by the second.

Finally, he saw the door open and Kirk stepped back inside.

"I'm fine, as usual." He said, sealing the door shut and climbing into the bed. "Do you still want to do this, Pavel? I was actually done in ten minutes but I gave you another five to think it over… y'know, in case it was just kind of a heat-of-the-moment thing."

Chekov was astounded to hear those words coming from him.

"Yes, I still want to." He said. "But um… Kep—Jim, I should tell you zat I haven't done zis before."

"I figured. Also why I gave you time to think."

"I still want to." He stated.

"Alright, but don't feel obligated to keep going if you're uncomfortable, okay?" Kirk asked, massaging his inner thigh.

"Do you always do zis to every you sleep with?" Chekov laughed nervously.

"Only the ones that I _really _like." He said, edging closer towards his crotch again. Chekov took his hand and wasted no time building himself back up again, much to Kirk's amusement. Within a matter of seconds, their clothes were in a pile on the floor and they were rolling around in Kirk's bed, kissing and touching every inch they could get on each other. It wasn't long before Chekov felt Kirk gently grasp his cock with his thumb and forefinger.

"K-Keptin!" Chekov cried. He clamped his slim thighs around Kirk's hand, writhing with pleasure.

"Tell me, have you ever been blown before?" Kirk murmured into his ear. Chekov shook his head, shuddering.

"N-no sir."

"Do you want my head in between your legs, Pavel? Sucking every inch of your cock until you just can't take it anymore?"

Chekov whined at the sultriness in Kirk's voice.

_No wonder why he has reputation that he does._

"Please?" Chekov pleaded.

Kirk smiled wickedly and started to kiss slowly all the way down his body. Chekov moaned, pushing his head down further.

"You know I can't do anything if you're going to keep your legs clamped shut." Kirk said, sliding his hand between his thighs.

"O-oh, da—yes, of course!" he babbled, spreading his legs with a surprising display of flexibility. He let his heels touch and his knees settle into the bed as Kirk took it all in. What was between his legs was nothing that he wasn't used to already, except that Chekov had a clearly erect cock. It was no more than an inch and a half long, but it did look very similar to his own cock aesthetically. He seemed to be genetically very hairless, as the most he had besides on his head was a miniscule layer of light brown curls between his legs.

Kirk had come to terms that he was bisexual a long time ago, but he never found that much enjoyment in giving other guys blowjobs ever since he got into a fight in his early twenties; his jaw was never the same after that. He couldn't handle something like a dick in his mouth for more than a minute before he was in excruciating pain. It was frustrating for him because he got off by driving other people crazy with his mouth, but he simply couldn't do it.

Kirk licked his bottom lip. He wanted so badly to blow him—no, he _needed _to, and he could. He laid down on the bed with his mouth hovering over Chekov's crotch.

"Can I?" he asked.

"Y-yes, Keptin."

"Call me Jim."

Chekov nearly passed out as Kirk dove face-first into him, licking and sucking every square inch between his legs. Strong, burly hands kept his legs spread apart and at the Captain's mercy. Still, Chekov did have some form of control. He grasped Kirk's hair and guided his head in the direction where he needed it the most. Kirk took the hint and immediately started sucking his cock.

Chekov couldn't control the volume of his moans. He had never felt sensations like this before—he hadn't been with another _person _before, only his thoughts.

His entire body suddenly spasmed when Kirk flicked his tongue against the head.

"Gah… Kep—Jim, t-too much." He panted. Kirk nodded and resumed to what he was doing before. His own cock throbbed with each bated breath and cry and moan that the young Russian made. Chekov was going _crazy; _in between moans, he mewled in some sort of half-Russian, half-English gibberish so loudly that despite the soundproof walls, Kirk was sure people could hear him.

In fact, Chekov was so loud that he had a suspicion that he was doing it because he thought that it was what people were _supposed _to do during sex. Before Kirk could say something, he suddenly had a hazy memory from biology class from high school. He remembered learning that penis only has half the nerve endings than what Chekov has, and it had grown considerably large…

_Shit, this is all real._

But that fact only encouraged him further. Watching his adorable face contort with pleasure he had never felt before made Kirk suck him hungrily. He was absolutely determined to see Chekov's orgasm face, and he wouldn't stop until he burned the image into his mind.

"So… close…" the ensign wailed pathetically. "_Vebat'!"_ He kept crying over and over again. Suddenly, Kirk felt his cock swell in his mouth before Chekov violently trembled underneath him, his mouth hanging open and his eyes equally as wide.

"Jim—_Vebat'!"_

It was then that Kirk experienced something that he never thought he would. Chekov's cock twitched and pulsated in the very same way that his would when he ejaculated. The Russian's breath came in quick pants and he gently pulled on Kirk's hair. He gave Chekov one last hard suck before rearing up. His cheeks were flushed a dark pink color and he actually had a bit of saliva running down the corner of his mouth.

_Jesus Christ, I fucked him senseless _Kirk thought, trying to not to laugh.

"You okay, Pavel?" he asked.

"I never thought… zat someone's mouth could feel… zat good…" he panted. "Can I try on you?"

"Have you ever sucked a dick before?" The younger man shook his head.

"Nyet. I am virgin, remember?" He reminded him.

"Right…" Kirk muttered. "Well, if you feel up to it, I can certainly show you how to do it."

Chekov grinned excitedly, making Kirk completely lose it. Chekov didn't smile very often, but when he did, it was the cutest thing Kirk had ever seen—almost sickenly cute.

He eagerly undid the captain's zipper and tried to pull down his pants, but it was exceedingly difficult with his bulge being very… _large. _He finally got them off after a few moments and pulled down his underwear. Chekov couldn't help but swear under his breath in Russian. How was he going to fit this thing into his mouth?

"Don't worry about taking it all in." Kirk said, as if he could read his mind. "How about you give it a kiss, hm?"

Chekov kissed the head of his cock before sliding it into his mouth. He tasted slightly bitter from his pre-come, but nonetheless Chekov couldn't get enough. He lapped his tongue all over the head, making Kirk take a sharp breath.

"Zat is good?" He asked.

"Not bad for a first-timer." Kirk admitted. "See how much you can get in there so you can try sucking it."

Chekov got about halfway down his cock before he was sure he would gag. "Now try to keep sucking while you move your head up and down." He said, gently grabbing Chekov's curly hair and pulling his head up and back down very slowly. He let go after a few strokes, watching the younger man enthusiastically blow him. He had no real rhythm and he felt teeth every now and again, but nonetheless it was some of the best head Kirk ever had. He had his head pressed against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut and gritting his teeth in ecstasy.

"Fuck, Pavel." He groaned. "You're gonna make me come." He yanked Chekov's hair and pulled his head back.

"Come on my face." Chekov pleaded.

"You got it." Kirk growled. With one hand he held his chin up to render him immobile; in the other, he beat himself off furiously. Chekov opened his mouth invitingly, his tongue only centimeters away from his cock.

Kirk grunted the ensign's name loudly, blowing his load all over his face. He watched as it dripped down Chekov's neck and slowly down to his chest. Amazingly none of it actually landed in his mouth; just near it.

"I didn't expect a virgin to want me to give him a facial." Kirk snorted, grabbing some tissues and wiping the come off of him.

"I deed not expect to make you come with my mouth on first try." Chekov shrugged. After wiping his face clean, Kirk grabbed his shoulders and pinned him down on the bed, kissing him furiously.

"I wish I had a better refractory period." He whispered. "I want to fuck you all night long."

"I want ze Keptin inside of me." Chekov groaned.

"Jesus, Pavel." Kirk hissed, biting his collarbone. The Russian let out a high-pitched yelp.

"K-Kept—Jim, if you don't want to go again, don't bite me like zat. I have high libido."

"I can see that; you're already hard again."

Chekov simply whined, pressing his pelvis against Kirk's and making him shudder.

"You know what? Fuck it. I've waited long enough to get you into my bed; I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

With that, he kissed and ravaged the younger man, making him practically squeal underneath him.

"Do you still have sensation here?" Kirk asked, grazing his nipple with his finger.

"D-Da, verwy much so." Chekov gasped. Kirk didn't hesitate one bit. He sucked ravenously on Chekov's hardening bud, making him wail with pleasure. At the same time, Kirk started gently prying his finger inside of Chekov until it suddenly slipped all the way in.

"_Vebat'!_" he cried.

"Shit… that didn't hurt, did it?" Kirk winced.

"N-no, I just never have anything inside before." He said. Kirk's eyebrows rose.

"Not even by yourself?"

"Well, a few times yes. But my hands are not big like yours." He explained.

"Then this must be a nice change, huh?" He murmured, bending his finger upwards. Chekov very nearly screamed.

"H-how does… zat feel so good…" he cried.

"That's your G-spot, Pavel." Kirk informed him. "Everyone has one; yours is just in a different place than mine."

He continued to torture the young man, making him tremble violently underneath him.

"How about we put something even bigger in there?" Kirk proposed, sucking his neck. Chekov didn't reply; instead, he grasped the shaft of Kirk's cock and positioned it against his entrance. "Whoa, hang on a second!" Kirk laughed. He reached underneath his bed and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lubricant. Chekov's eyes grew wide.

"_Kakat'sya_, I forgot about zat." He admitted, blushing.

"I did my research—as much as I would love to fuck you bareback, I'm not taking any chances." He said, tearing open the foil package.

"Zank you."

Kirk nodded and rolled the condom over his massive cock. He then popped open the lubricant cap and squirted a generous amount into his hand, slicking up his cock and using the remaining portion to slide two fingers inside Chekov. The teen moaned wantonly, begging Kirk to fuck him.

_I hope it doesn't hurt him too much _Kirk thought.

"If it's too much, you'll tell me, alright?" He said sternly.

"I am verwy relaxed; I don't zink it should hurt." Chekov beamed. Kirk grimaced until Chekov sighed. "But yes, if it hurts, I will say so."

Kirk kissed him and positioned himself to enter him. Slowly, he slid the tip in, waiting for any type of negative reaction. To his surprise, Chekov groaned and thrusted his hips upwards, taking Kirk in all at once.

"Shit, are you sure you're a virgin?" Kirk grunted.

"I told you, I'm relaxed. Does not hurt when you really want it." Chekov grinned.

"Whatever you say." Kirk shrugged. He gave the younger man a slow, deep thrust, making him whine loudly.

"So big…" Chekov moaned. He never imagined that having a cock inside of him would feel so good—then again, it was _Kirk _who was in there. He shuddered with pleasure and wrapped his legs around Kirk's thick, muscular torso. The captain found that he barely had to move to make Chekov moan. Given the Russian's small stature and Kirk's endowment, he wouldn't have been surprised if he reached his cervix.

_Or whatever he would call it_ Kirk thought.

Chekov didn't make as much noise as earlier, but the look on his face showed his pleasure louder than any screams. He kept biting his lip and closing his eyes, silently begging Kirk to fuck him harder.

"Get on top of me, Pavel." He ordered.

"On… top?" he exclaimed, his voice going up almost a full octave. "I don't really have good balance." He admitted.

"I'll take care of you." Kirk found himself murmuring into his ear.

_Jeez, when I start getting so sappy? This kid is seeing through me right to the core. _

Chekov nodded, straddling Kirk's hips and impaling himself with his cock. His eyes grew wide and he let out a yelp.

"You feel so much bigger!" he wailed.

"I assure you I'm the same size as I was thirty seconds ago. How far am I inside of you?" Kirk asked.

"All ze way in." he moaned. "You fill up completely, Jim."

"That's what I like to hear. Go on, try to move around a little."

Awkwardly, Chekov tried to move his hips up and down, but he couldn't get the right coordination. Kirk took his hands and draped his arms across his shoulders, making Chekov's face merely centimeters away from his. Chekov nearly melted staring into his piercing blue eyes.

"Don't worry about trying to please me." Kirk whispered. "This is your night. Here, let's make this easier for you."

Kirk opened his hand and filled the space between his middle and ring finger with the base of his cock, pushing up the arch of his hand right against Chekov's throbbing member. "Just try grinding yourself against me; it'll come naturally."

He nodded, cautiously rubbing himself against Kirk's hand before he started going faster. Being stimulated both inside and outside was putting him on the verge of another orgasm, but he felt that it was going to be much different than the ones he normally had.

"Jim!" he cried. Kirk's hand started to cramp after a few minutes, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stop—not with Chekov grinding against him this hard. Suddenly, Chekov's enthusiasm started to rub off on him—he was getting close watching the Russian so hot and bothered.

"I'm so fucking close." Kirk grunted, gritting his teeth.

"J-Just one more minute!" Chekov gasped, digging his nails into Kirk's back. He honestly tried his best to hold out a little longer, but he simply couldn't.

"Fuck, here it comes." Kirk threw his head back and let out an uncharacteristic, full-throated moan. Chekov felt him twitch and spasm inside of him, erupting over and over again. Finally, in the nick of time, the sensation of Kirk coming set him off.

"Jim, _Vebat'!_ Fuck!"

Chekov was right; this was a far more different sensation than before. Rather than his orgasm being focused on one place, this one ravaged his entire body from the inside. He had to bite Kirk's collarbone to keep from screaming.

Kirk, on the other hand, was dumbfounded and amazed watching Chekov completely lose it, shuddering and swearing and chanting his name like a mantra for well over the normal amount of time it usually took. Eventually, Chekov ceased movement and opened his eyes. To both of the mens' surprise, tears raced down the younger man's face. Kirk blinked in shock, not sure how to react.

"Pavel?"

"I am fine." Chekov laughed, wiping his eyes. "Not tears of sadness or pain, I promise. It felt so good, I just couldn't stop myself."

"Wow…" Kirk whistled. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone cry in bed before."

"Too many emotions to fit in my body; zey needed to escape." Chekov said, kissing him. Kirk wrapped his arms around the younger man, their sweaty bodies colliding with each other in a passionate post-sex kiss.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Kirk asked.

"I was hoping you would ask." Chekov admitted. "Yes, I will stay."


End file.
