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Title: (Not) The First Time
Author: [livejournal.com profile] dea_liberty
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov (Star Trek XI)
Rating: R
Warnings: Implications of abuse in the past.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Just playing in someone else's sandbox.
A/N: First attempt at writing in the fandom in answer to a prompt for Chekov not really being a virgin at [livejournal.com profile] st_xi_kink. For that reason, this is unpolished and unbetaed. Originally written under anonymity but someone asked me to delurk and post to comms so now you're all stuck with it too. Sorry!



The first time Sulu kisses him, he holds Chekov gently, cradles his face and licks slowly into his mouth. He pulls back, presses his lips to the corner of Chekov's besotted smile and whispers, "okay?"

Chekov fists his hands in Sulu's shirt, pulls him close and crashes their lips back together, moans, "yes, yes, god yes," and kisses him hard and deep and hungry.

Sulu touches him like he's a fragile thing, like he's going to break apart if he's not handled with care, undresses him with reverent fingers and even more reverent lips, leans over him on the bed, weight braced on his arms and looks down at him. He whispers, "Pavel," soft and sweet, like it's a sacred word, like he's never said a prayer more precious.

And it's incredible, amazing, like the best fucking feeling in the world, and the Enterprise doesn't fly high at all when compared to how he feels. He reacts, arches and moans, and god, there can't be anything better than this feeling, better than the way Sulu touches him, like he's something to be loved and cherished and adored.

"I want to suck your cock," Chekov says, low and breathless, green of his irises swallowed by widening pupils. "Hikaru, please."

Sulu goes stock still. "You don't have to," he stutters out. "Pavel, you don't - I mean - I don't want you to do anything you aren't - "

Chekov flips their positions, presses down against Sulu, lips curled up into a smile. "I'm not a virgin," he says and, before that damn pride and honor can get in the way of this, Chekov slides down the length of his body and swallows his dick. Sulu clutches at his hair, groans rough with abandon - and maybe it's not the same, maybe he won't ever touch Chekov with that same softness again, but Chekov tells himself that the weight of Sulu's dick on his tongue, the taste of him flooding his senses, is more than enough to make up for it.

He's not an innocent, pretty little virgin anyway (they used to call him, "slut" and "whore" and he'd moan with the best of them), and he doesn't want to lie to Sulu like that.

That blissed out look on Sulu's face is enough to drive away the demons, and the way Sulu pets his hair, still gentle, apologetic, is more than enough for him to forget everything. "Pavel," Sulu says again, and Chekov is never going to get tired of hearing his name from Sulu's lips, goes willingly to lick the shape of those syllables from Sulu's mouth.

He squeaks with surprise when Sulu flips them back over, when he goes back to those sweet, gentle touches, fingers sliding along Chekov's skin like there's nothing different. The warmth is still there, bright and burning in Sulu's eyes - hands trailing down (down, down, down).

Sulu's lips rest on his pulse. "You're just full of surprises," he whispers, moves slowly over his skin, kisses every inch of him until he's practically writhing, hand creeping towards his dick - gasps in surprise when it's swatted away.

"What are you doing?" Chekov asks, voice going thready with want and need and panic. "Hikaru, what are you - bozhe moy." The feeling of a tongue flicking over the head of his cock is - Chekov doesn't even know how to describe it. He just twists, fingers tightening in the sheets as he whines.

Sulu stopps, fingers pressing almost-bruises into his hips. "Pavel?" He says, concern lacing those syllables now - and still it sounds sweeter than anything Chekov's ever heard. "I thought you said you've done this before?"

I am that obvious?. Chekov opens his eyes and stares back. "I have."

"Then...what...?" Sulu's obviously confused. He's obviously misunderstanding something, and Chekov has to correct him before he gets that deep hurting look in his eyes.

"You do not have to," he says breathlessly, slowly reaching out to cup Sulu's cheek with one hand, tugs him a little, tries to get him to come back up so Chekov can relax, can get himself off and it'll be okay. "It is okay. I don't - you don't - I do it for you."

Some kind of understanding creeps into Sulu's eyes - and Chekov prefers the blissed out look, the soft, sweet stare - anything but the angry and digust that's slowly filling them.

"No," he cries, clutching a little at Sulu. "Hikaru, please, it's okay. I don't - please, please, please don't be angry. I'll be good. I'll be so good. You can fuck me and I - please, please, Hikaru."

He almost doesn't notice he's been moved until he finds himself craddled in Sulu's arms, clutching at his neck, clinging on for dear life. "Please," he whispers, hiccuping a little. "Hikaru, please. Don't be angry."

"I'm not angry at you," Sulu says quietly, strokes a hand through his hair and down his back, voice low and soothing. "Shh, Pavel - Pasha - I'm not angry at you."

"But you are angry," Chekov says, sniffling a little, confusion clear.

"Yes," Sulu says, careful and controlled. "But not at you." He shifts them slowly, lays Chekov back down onto the bed, leans down and kisses him slowly. "Let me show you," he whispers, back to that tone - that tone that makes Chekov feel pure and fragile even though he's anything but. It makes him feel like something precious, something important. "Let me show you how it's supposed to be."

Chekov doesn't dare close his eyes, not even when Sulu's mouth wraps around his cock, does something incredible and amazing - and god, so, so good with his tongue, sends sparks up Chekov's spine until he feels the tingles in his toes. Warmth spreads, and he's moaning, whimpering, almost sobbing with want and need and Hikaru - right there, so close, pulling him higher and higher and higher until he goes supernova, comes so hard he whites out.

When he opens his eyes, Sulu's settled beside him, twisted on his side so he's pressed up close, watching him. He tucks a curl behind Chekov's ear, and Chekov grins at him, stupid and sated and wonderful.

There's open adoration on Sulu's face, and Chekov thinks he gets why Sulu was so angry. It's never been like this before. It's never felt so good. He's never felt so good, and he can't even remember the names they called him once. Just remembers Pavel and Pasha and Sulu's eyes when he calls his name. He feels like he's something special - he has to be for Sulu to touch him like this.

His smile gets brighter when Sulu leans down and kisses his lips, soft and slow, and the taste of himself on Sulu's tongue is intoxicating. He doesn't think he can ever live without it again.

"Pavel," Sulu whispers, bites lightly on his lower. "Don't ever tell me their names."

Chekov pulls back and meets Sulu's eyes, and then he shakes his head. "I won't," he promises. "I don't even remember them anymore." All he remembers is Sulu.
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