A/N: Cracky fill for the new kink meme.


There was one simple rule for sleeping with Pavel Chekov.

Don't talk about it.

Using this Fight Club mentality, Chekov had managed to sleep with thirty-one women aboard the Enterprise in the span of a year, including a very sweet Vulcan in Engineering who couldn't quite understand the logic of keeping quiet about their encounter, but couldn't resist his dimples and curls. "Don't kiss and tell," he'd whisper shyly, when the girl was writhing in the sheets dressed only in her Starfleet-issue underclothes. "This is my first time. I want it to stay special. Between us."

Chekov had been a virgin thirty-one times, watching each girl melt for his feigned innocence and scream for his "natural skills."

As the young ensign returned to his quarters, fresh from a liaison with one of Uhura's xenolinguist friends who'd gushingly called him "Pasha" all night, a thought crossed his mind.

What would it be like with a man?

Really, that was his final frontier. He'd done everything one could possibly do with a woman, after sleeping with the Andorian nurse (who was very open to experimentation) and Gaila (who'd declared he was infinitely better than Kirk).

Kirk. Now there's a thought. For a crazy moment, he imagined the captain kneeling before him, wishing to make his "first time" something he'd never forget.

Chekov considered Kirk's focused blue eyes and his reputation for being a 24th century Casanova—with women. The virgin act wouldn't work on him; he'd have to be aggressive. Kirk would be a challenge. But, Chekov thought with a smile as he entered his quarters, where would I be today if I didn't thrive on challenges?


The next morning, Chekov slid in next to Spock with a breakfast tray. "Good morning, Captain," he said to the man sitting across from him at the table.

"Morning, Chekov."

Spock watched distastefully as Chekov peeled a banana with his fingers. He took his sweet time licking the sticky banana residue from his fingers, staring Kirk down the entire time.

Spock, who was infinitely more perceptive than the captain, raised an eyebrow.

Chekov grinned. "Would you like to see a trick I learned at the Academy?"

"What kind of trick?"

"Jenai Veillette taught it to me."

Kirk recognized the name. They'd been off and on during Kirk's final year at the Academy; she could be annoying, but she gave the best head in Starfleet.

"She called it the banana trick."

With that, Chekov formed an "O" with his lips and suggestively slid the banana into his mouth. Just when Kirk thought he was going to gag on it, he pushed it further inside, until the entire banana had effortlessly disappeared down his throat.

The captain gaped at the innocent-looking eighteen-year-old. He swallowed and licked his lips.

"And that's it," he appended, a knowing smile on his face.


Upon arrival at the bridge, Kirk instructed Chekov to set a course for Delta Quadrant. There had been reports of massive, cube-shaped vessels in the area, and Admiral Pike had asked him to investigate.

"We are approaching one of the unidentifiable ships," reported Chekov within the hour.

"The computer is not able to classify the life forms," Spock added. "Romulans, Andorians, and Klingons all on the same ship; yet, they have changed in some manner. The Romulans are… no longer Romulans."

Scotty's voice came through. "Captain—one of them has just beamed aboard the ship!"

Kirk furrowed his brow. "How the hell—Sulu, put us at safe distance. Chekov, Spock, get down to the transporter room and figure out what the hell it is. I'll send security to help."

After making sure the Enterprise was safe, Kirk gave Sulu the conn and headed down to the transporter room. Spock was absent.

"Where's Spock?"

"He went to sickbay with Dr. McCoy and a member of the security team."

Kirk focused on the two unconscious individuals lying in front of them, no doubt taken down by well-timed Vulcan nerve pinches. One looked suspiciously like an artificial life form of some sort; its skin was a dull, lifeless gray, and an assortment of cybernetics were affixed to its body. The other looked almost human; Kirk could tell it was a man from the scruff on his chin, though he was quickly turning into an androgynous-looking gray being, like the other alien. He wore a red Starfleet security uniform, and an odd-looking implant blossomed in his forehead.

Chekov answered Kirk's unspoken question. "Only one beamed to the ship."

"What happened to our security man?"

"It is hard to explain…" He knelt next to the cyborg alien and gestured for Kirk to do the same.

Chekov took Kirk's wrist and guided it to the back of the alien's hand. "Feel that?"

Kirk nodded.

"They're like needles. He jammed one into Falcon's neck about here—" Chekov softly touched Kirk's neck just below the jawline—"and he stopped responding to us. His skin started to turn gray."

Clearing his throat, Kirk reclaimed his personal space and turned to the chief of the security team. "Restrain them both and lock them up. I'll have Bones check on Falcon." Hurriedly, he left the transporter room.


After checking in with Spock and Bones, Kirk contacted Admiral Pike, who instructed him to treat the prisoner like he was a weapon. Kirk took the order to heart and stationed more security outside the cyborg's cell. He spent the rest of his shift skirting the edge of Delta Quadrant, watching for the cube to make contact and recover their man. He waited in vain.

When their shift ended, Chekov puttered around his station until he saw Kirk leave the captain's chair for the turbolift. He slid in just before the doors closed, leaving them alone.

"Rough day," Chekov noted.

"Yup." Kirk took a step toward the closed door.

"That alien said something before Mr. Spock rendered him unconscious," Chekov purred, reaching over to pause the turbolift.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Resistance… is futile."

Suddenly, Kirk found himself pressed against the cold metal wall of the turbolift, Chekov's breath in his ear, his hands wandering, a tongue in his mouth…

"Hey!" Kirk untangled himself from the navigator, with some difficulty, and put as much distance between them as possible. "What the hell?"

Chekov blinked innocently. "Is it not our mission to boldly go where no man has gone before?"

Kirk didn't know whether to laugh or slap the kid. The doors of the turbolift opened. As Kirk turned to leave, Chekov reached out and pinched his ass so hard that Kirk jumped.

As the doors slid shut, the last thing Kirk saw was Chekov's smirk.


Three days later, Kirk slipped into sickbay and tapped his friend's shoulder. "Bones, you got a minute? I've got a… a problem. I need someone to talk to about it."

"Christ, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist."

He blinked. "A psychiatrist is a doctor."

Bones rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"This is going to sound crazy," Kirk sighed, "but it's Chekov."

He raised an eyebrow. "You want Chekov?"

"No! That's just the problem! It's the other way around!"


"He has been hitting on me nonstop for the past week. And the little fucker is bold about it, too. Today he "dropped" a PADD directly in front of my chair, then came up with these bedroom eyes like he was about to suck my—

"Are we talking about the same Chekov?"

"He's pinched my ass black and blue! Do you want to see the bruises as evidence? He's insatiable! Seriously. He out-me's me!"

Bones raised an eyebrow.

Exasperated, Kirk sunk onto a cot.

"Maybe you're suffering from delusions. It's common, after being on a ship so long—"

Kirk pushed the hypospray-wielding hand away. "Why don't you give him one of those high-powered tranquilizers?"

Bones said nothing.

He slid off the cot. "Fine. You don't believe me? Come to the bridge tomorrow. See for yourself."


"Chekov, do you have the readings?"

"Aye, sir." He picked up a PADD and knelt next to Kirk in the captain's chair. He leaned over, holding the PADD just above Kirk's crotch. "The transmissions came from this sector," he told him, pointing at the screen.

"Right. And the cube—"

"Was here." As Chekov jabbed at the screen again, his knuckles brushed Kirk's pants.

Kirk felt an involuntary twitch and did his best to ignore it. "There has to be a cloaked ship out there," he concluded, "but the question is: is it one of the cubes?"

No one in front was paying attention to their conversation. Chekov took advantage of the absence of eyes to lightly massage the tiny tent in Kirk's pants.

"Mr. Chekov," Kirk said warningly.

He looked up at the captain with round, innocent eyes, as if nothing was going on. "Is there a problem, sir?"

Kirk threw the PADD down. "All right! I give in! You win, you little cocktease! Right here, right now, hands on the console, and bend over!"

All activity on the bridge stopped immediately.

Chekov couldn't hide his smile; furiously, Kirk began unbuckling his belt.

Uhura stood. "Captain, what is going on?"

He paid her no mind, concentrating on freeing himself from his pants.

Spock's calm voice came next. "Starfleet regulation states that an officer of Starfleet must not engage in a relationship with any member of Starfleet under his or her command."

Impatiently, Kirk glared at his first officer. "Does this look like a relationship, Spock?"

Spock was about to comment on the nature of sexual liaisons and committed relationships in Vulcan society, but decided against it.

"And as for what's going on, Lieutenant, this little son of a bitch has been teasing me for the past week, and I'm just going to satisfy his curiosity so he can move on!"

As Kirk dropped his pants, Bones entered the bridge.

God damn, thought the good doctor, as Kirk gripped the console, he does have a lot of bruises on his ass.