Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/330485.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Trek:_Alternate_Original_Series_(Movies)
  Relationship:
      Eventual_McCoy/Chekov, suggested_Kirk/Chekov, Kirk/Sulu
  Character:
      James_T._Kirk, Leonard_McCoy, Pavel_Chekov, Hikaru_Sulu, Spock,
      Montgomery_"Scotty"_Scott
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Alternate_Universe_-_Historical
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-31 Words: 10411
****** Ahoy There ******
by haldoor
Summary
     Warnings: Underage: Chekov is seventeen in this story. Questionable
     morals: the story features rough sailors capable of rape and
     violence, and both are mentioned in passing, although nothing graphic
     is featured
     Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters nor the concept of Star
     Trek; in fact I'm not much of an expert in the 'verse, so anything
     directly related is suitably vague. This AU set on board an
     eighteenth century tall ship featuring the Trek characters is all
     from my own imagination and I make no money
     Beta: Once again,
     [[info]]
siluria looked it over in her inimitable way; thank you, my dear!
Author's Notes: This story is set on board the good ship Enterprise, with Capt.
James T. Kirk at the helm; Spock is his First Officer, McCoy is the ship's
Surgeon, Scott is the Chief Engineer, Chekov is the Cabin Boy and Sulu's role
is somewhat ambiguous ;-P
Notes
     The 'sea-faring AU' prompt came from [[info]]lozateazer after I
     offered a reward for something she gave me; it's also two years'
     birthday gifts! The story evolved from there and I'm afraid it rather
     got away on me! I hope it fulfils your expectations, love!
     *squishes*.
As Dr Leonard McCoy boarded the good ship 'Enterprise' for the first time, he
found himself thinking that the most incredible things happened at sea. And
knowing whom he was travelling with, they probably would this time too.
Frowning as he regarded the captain's new cabin boy scurrying away from the
bridge, McCoy shook his head that he'd once again agreed to accompany James
Kirk on a trip across the Atlantic. He'd vowed it would be his last if Jim was
up to his usual tricks.
The ship was due to sail in less than an hour and he couldn't say what it was
about the cabin boy that disturbed him, but he wasn't sure that this lad was
right for the ship. Perhaps it was the foreign accent? What was this young man
doing in America alone, for a start, although McCoy had no knowledge of his
family.
"Bones?"
"Hmm?" Turning at the questioning tone of the captain's voice, McCoy lifted a
brow in reply.
"We're about to cast off; have you said your goodbyes?"
"Oh, yes, of course. My wife left some time ago; no sense her hanging around."
"Good, good. Now, Doctor, I need the deck cleared. I'm sure you have medical
things to see to in your cabin."
"Captain," McCoy saluted and left. When Jim called him by his title it was time
to take the man seriously, though they had been friends for years and things
were usually a lot more casual between them.
The 'Enterprise' was a new ship to both of them and McCoy couldn't recall which
cabin he’d been assigned. The foreign boy caught his eye as McCoy looked for
someone to remind him and McCoy smiled tightly and said, "Chekov, isn't it?
Show me to my cabin, if you please."
"Aye, sir." Chekov practically tugged on his curly forelock as he nodded and
led McCoy towards the aforementioned cabin. "Will that be all, sir?"
McCoy turned in the cabin and studied the boy as he waited by the door. He was
cleaner than the last one, it had to be said, and relatively pretty, but then,
Jim didn't choose them if they weren't. Hopefully he would stay clean for more
than a few days, and the prettiness wouldn't get washed away by grime and bad
handling. One thing McCoy hated was dealing with cabin boys and the like when
Jim was sick of the sight of them, although the last one – mercifully – hadn't
been too enamoured with the whole business of what being cabin boy to someone
like Jim entailed.
McCoy found himself hoping this boy wasn't poxed, though he wasn't showing any
obvious signs. A couple of them hadn't lasted the whole sea journey due to
complaints they'd brought with them; but what else could you expect from boys
who had no other way of making it through life.
"That'll be all."
Chekov bobbed his head and exited the cabin, pulling the door shut after him.
McCoy turned back to his bunk and stared at the medical chest next to it. He
had the latest equipment and drugs available; Jim never stinted on those sides
of things; though nothing had been able to save the poxed boys. Jim was just
lucky he'd gotten away with not catching it yet. This time, a new drug that was
thought to be effective at quelling the pox was among McCoy's supplies and for
a moment he hoped he'd get opportunity to try it out, and then remembering
himself again, hoped the opposite.
Swinging his long legs up onto the bunk, McCoy lay back and closed his eyes. It
had been a long journey down to the docks from his home in the country that
morning. He'd done enough waving goodbye at the shore in the past, and since
his wife had already left – probably for good going by the conversation they'd
had on the way – there was no reason to watch as the ship left harbour. A nap
would serve him far better in the meantime.
~//~
A frantic knocking woke him and for a moment, McCoy's dream seemed to become
reality as he gruffly offered, "Come," and at the same time sat up and blinked
himself further awake. The young cabin boy burst in at his words and prostrated
himself at McCoy's feet. McCoy had difficulty focusing on reality for a moment;
but then he realised Chekov was not naked and was, in fact, looking distinctly
unhappy.
"It's the first mate, sir. He's taken ill and the captain said for you to come
immediately."
It could hardly be sea-sickness; Jim wouldn't send his cabin boy for something
so trivial, and anyway, Spock was the last person likely to suffer from
something so illogical. McCoy coughed and stood up. "Get up boy. Go ahead and
tell Captain Kirk I'm on my way to the bridge."
"Aye, sir." Chekov got to his feet as McCoy did. "Sorry, sir." He backed out of
the room apologetically and took off at speed as McCoy followed more sedately.
~//~
"Seriously, Spock; I'd have thought you would have known better than to come on
board without notifying me of your condition previously. You have been given a
prescription by your own doctor?"
"Of course, and there was no need for you to be called in now. I have it under
control."
"I hardly call it under control if the captain himself was worried."
"Nonetheless-"
"Nonetheless, I will need to monitor your health from here on in. Jaundice can
be very worrying, and suffering from dizzy spells doesn't reassure me that you
have been given the best advice. Frankly, I'm surprised you were allowed to
sail with the ship."
"My doctor said it would take no longer than a week or so for the medicine to
cure me; he did not inform me that the dizziness could return."
McCoy rolled his eyes. God alone knew what sort of doctor the man was, although
the pill box Spock was now showing him contained the medicine he'd expected to
see. With some luck, the illness was as short-lived as the other doctor hoped,
but McCoy wouldn't take any chances.
"I will still be checking on you. Now rest, and I'll inform the captain you can
resume your duties tomorrow."
"But-"
"Captain Kirk will expect your co-operation. If you rest now, you will be fit
for duty tomorrow, Spock. If you attempt to return to the bridge now and you
fall over again, do you seriously think he will allow you to continue at all? I
can always tell him you aren't fit enough to fulfil your obligations on board.
We are not so far from port that he won't consider turning around again; I'm
sure you see this is your best option."
Spock certainly appeared to be taking his words seriously, though McCoy could
tell he wasn't happy.
"As you say, Doctor." He bowed his head, though McCoy didn't for a moment
believe the man wanted to stay in his bed. But the threat to his position
seemed to be enough for now.
As he stepped out of the door, McCoy gestured to Chekov, who was waiting
patiently in the narrow passageway. "Please keep an eye on Mr Spock for the
next while; at least until supper. If he leaves his cabin, come and tell me.
I'll be on the bridge with the captain for a few moments, and then returning to
my cabin until suppertime."
"Aye, sir," Chekov replied, looking nervously up from under his brow.
"Are you all right, Chekov? The captain hasn't set you some other task?"
"No, sir. I... it's just... no, never mind. Sorry, sir." His heavy accent
thickened on the last words and McCoy frowned.
"Spit it out, boy; I can't help you if you don't tell me the problem. You're
not ill too, are you?"
"Oh no, sir, nothing like that," Chekov said hurriedly, a light blush rising to
his down-free cheeks. It made him seem all the younger for a second, and McCoy
wondered what on earth his problem could be. "I... the captain, that is... he
suggested I speak to you about some form of... something to aid his purpose
later... for tonight." The boy swallowed, his face turning even redder.
McCoy looked blankly at Chekov for a second, and then the penny dropped. He
huffed a little, amazed at Jim's audacity. Of course, he wouldn't be able to
help himself from rubbing in how pretty and eager his young cabin boy was,
would he? Not to mention how quickly and easily his wants were addressed; sod
the boy's embarrassment at letting the doctor know exactly what he'd be doing
that night.
"I'll bring something with me to supper and slip it to you, all right?
Although, you know... no, don't mind that. I'll tell the captain myself."
Chekov looked even more stricken, though there was no reason for him to be; Jim
must have sent him – the boy wouldn't have come off his own bat, and there was
no reason for him to lie. "It's all right; I'll speak to him privately and you
shouldn't have to ask for it again."
"Thank you, sir." Chekov's relieved look made him smile. The boy would go far
if he kept his head.
~//~
Spock appeared at dinner, looking slightly less yellow, and more his usual
self. Chekov served them, along with another foreign-looking youth who made
McCoy wonder where Jim was searching for crew these days. McCoy managed to slip
Chekov the pottle of grease surreptitiously in between courses when he was
clearing away dishes. The boy whispered 'thank you' as he pocketed it and McCoy
smiled up and into Jim's twinkling eyes as he moved away.
"Now, who's for an after-dinner drink and a cigar?" Jim asked, looking around
the table.
"I think I'll be giving it a miss," said Scotty, the only other officer on
board. "I have a wee problem to see to in the lower deck, and it canna wait."
This could mean anything from Scotty having to caulk a leak to there being some
form of card game he had a wager on, but no-one said anything as he excused
himself and left the room. McCoy looked pointedly at Spock, who stood up too.
"Captain, I don't believe drinking or smoking will be helpful to my recovery. I
too, must take my leave. My watch is at dawn, I believe, and I should take what
rest I can before then. Good night gentlemen."
"Just me and you then, Bones," Jim smiled, offering the cigar box to McCoy then
taking one himself. "Chekov, pour brandy for us, then you can turn back my bed.
Mr Sulu, please tell the Quartermaster that he excelled himself tonight. Let's
hope that's a sign for the rest of the voyage huh, Bones?" Offering this last
to McCoy, the captain turned back to Sulu. "Are you on duty tonight, Mr Sulu?"
"No, sir, I'm on Mr Spock's watch at dawn."
"Good to hear." Jim looked at McCoy again and tilted his chin in Sulu's
direction. "Perhaps Dr. McCoy requires help with his... medical supplies
tonight."
McCoy frowned and offered Sulu a concerned look. He wouldn't put it past Jim to
have suggested Sulu warm his bed, but more likely he simply wanted to embarrass
McCoy into asking the young sailor himself. "That's... uh... not necessary.
Thank you, Mr Sulu; Captain." He scowled meaningfully in Jim's direction.
Chekov appeared at McCoy's shoulder, his breathing audible. McCoy looked up
sharply and then realised that Chekov was offering him the brandy Jim had asked
him to pour. There was an expression on Chekov's face that McCoy couldn't read
and he narrowed his eyes as he accepted the glass. "Thank you, Chekov."
"Yes, thank you, Chekov and Sulu. You may leave us now." Jim was positively
glowing with pleasure. Damn the man! He loved this little game and played it
almost every single time they sailed together.
As soon as the door shut behind the two young men, McCoy growled, "Dammit, Jim,
I'm a doctor not a solicitor. I'll leave that business up to you."
Jim laughed and swirled the liquid in his brandy snifter. "I was trying my best
to help you."
"I don't need your help, thank you."
"If you say so, but I could swear you'd frown less and be more relaxed if you
gave in to it. Your wife can hardly complain; you're at sea for four months of
every six."
"I don't find it necessary. Just because you can't control yourself doesn't
mean every man's the same. Besides, she complains anyway."
Jim raised his eyebrows. "You haven't been with a boy yet that I know of;
what's she complaining about?"
"You said it," McCoy replied, swallowing a gulp of brandy and savouring the way
it burned down his throat. "At sea for four months of every six. She's had
enough. She was heading for her father's estate when she left the docks. Don't
think she'll be coming home when I return, either."
"You'll divorce?"
"Fairly likely, I'd say. Of course I'll have to instigate an affair to make it
work, but I'm sure I can arrange something."
Jim laughed again, but with little mirth. "Pity you couldn't make it one of the
lads."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, quite. You'd get your way and I'd look like a
bloody fool. Not going to happen; I can assure you."
"I could suggest some ladies in town who'd be willing to help out if that'd
suit you better?"
"Oh, I'm sure you can. Jim, I hardly need your help with this. Let me sort it
out when we get back in port, all right?"
"Whatever you say. But I still say that Sulu looks pretty tasty. You really
have no idea what you're missing."
McCoy quirked a lip, then puffed hard on his cigar. He was fairly sure he had a
good idea of exactly what he was missing.
~//~
Knocking woke him again, and despite the rolling of the ship, it took McCoy a
few minutes to figure out where he was and that the noise wasn't part of his
dream.
"Who is it?" he growled when he finally worked out what was going on.
"Chekov, sir. Please may I come in?"
"Chekov? What do you want?" McCoy scowled as he dragged himself out of the bunk
and stumbled the three steps to the door. Wrenching it open, his expression
lightened as he took in the frightened-looking lad in the doorway. "What's
happened, boy?"
"Sir, Dr McCoy, I'm sorry… I…" Chekov looked both ways down the hallway and
then asked, wrapping his arms about himself, "Please may I come in?"
The boy only wore a thin shift to his knees and while he didn't seem hurt,
McCoy could see he was scared out of his wits. "Come inside, just for a minute,
at least."
Gesturing the boy in behind him, McCoy looked down the hallway himself; the
last thing he needed was anyone reporting to the captain that he'd taken the
cabin boy in after he'd been thrown out of the captain's bunk at some
godforsaken hour of the morning.
"Now, what's this all about?" he asked as he shut the door behind him and lit
the lantern before turning to face Chekov.
Chekov rushed into his arms and clung to him as if all he'd been waiting for
was a pair of open arms. His snivelling was heart-breaking – if that sort of
thing affected you. McCoy had rarely dealt with crying sailors though, and
wasn't sure what to make of it. He stood there, stiff and unyielding, hands
held away from Chekov as the boy cried into his nightgown. When his surprise
died down, he patted the lad's back awkwardly before pulling Chekov away from
him and helping him sit down on the bunk.
"Tell me what happened?" McCoy frowned, sure that Jim must have tried something
the kid hadn't heard of before, or else he'd suggested handing him on to the
crew after he'd had his way with Chekov. Neither would surprise McCoy.
"I knew what he wanted," Chekov told him, sniffing as McCoy handed him a
handkerchief and sat gingerly down beside him. "I thought I could do it; I know
enough to realise it was expected. But…"
A thought occurred to McCoy. "How old are you, Chekov? Where are your family?"
"I am seventeen, sir. My… parents died on the ship over to America. They were
taken with dysentery and there was nothing the ship's doctor could do. I used
much of our money to pay for the medicine… it was an ague which took many
passengers. I don't know why I was spared.
"My father had hoped for a better life for me here; I was to go to university."
He pronounced the word 'uniwersity' and McCoy huffed lightly at it. "Once I
arrived in America, I tried to find a place to live, but I was attacked late at
night and the rest of my father's savings were taken. I had no one to turn to;
nowhere to go." He wrung the handkerchief between white-fingered hands. "I was
hired for this voyage by Mr Spock soon after."
McCoy snorted to himself; it was typical of Jim to have his first mate
procuring innocents for his bed these days. The boy could hardly have
understood what he was getting himself into despite his words. Obviously he
wasn't just the usual lad from the streets with experience behind him; not if
his father had money for his education. "Don't worry; I will speak to the
captain and explain. You don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable
with."
"No, no, you misunderstand." Chekov grabbed his hand tightly, as if Bones had
been intending to head to the captain's room right now to set him straight.
"It's not that I do not want to… it is just… I don't know what to do. The
captain… he thought I would… that I knew how."
"Oh, for heaven's sake." McCoy tried to prise the boy's fingers off his hand
before he lost all feeling in it. "If that's all it is, why don't you just tell
him? He'll show you what to do."
"I don't want him to!" Chekov cried, his voice breaking again. "I want you to!
I…I…"
McCoy looked at the boy in horror. What on earth? He wanted McCoy over Jim? Why
would he even think McCoy was interested… oh, wait. The conversation at dinner.
No doubt Jim had been suggesting all manner of things ever since the lad had
arrived. Speaking of which, if Chekov had run out on Jim, why hadn't the man
followed? Usually, if he had his eye on some pretty young thing, he'd never let
the kid escape so easily. "Look, Chekov, you don't understand. This… this isn't
how all men act at sea. I have a wife."
"Captain Kirk said men with wives knew the most; how to be gentle with someone
if they are new to this."
Good Lord, what was the captain filling the boy's head with? Something was
niggling in the back of McCoy's head about this; something was off.
"Stay here, Chekov. I'll be back soon."
Before the boy could stop him, McCoy strode out of the cabin and stomped his
way down the hallway to Jim's room. Not even bothering to knock, he swung the
unlocked door open wide and coughed as he took in the sight of Kirk slaking his
lust in a very old-fashioned way. A low wick in the lantern made Sulu's naked
skin shine with the sweat on it as he rocked back and forth on his hands and
knees while Jim’s cock sawed in and out of his body.
"I should have realised that was all a double-blind." McCoy pitched his voice
low, but he knew both men had heard.
Sulu went rigid and looked over his shoulder in shock. Jim paused, but stroked
the smoothness of Sulu's back carelessly as he smirked over his shoulder at
McCoy. "I know you won't believe me, Bones, but I was trying to do you a
favour. The boy wants it; wants you! Take advantage while you can! Virgins like
him aren't exactly throwing themselves in your path."
"I have no intention of doing anything beyond mopping up his tears, and you
know it."
Jim dipped his hips and thrust hard into Sulu, who whimpered but made no move
to extricate himself, despite McCoy's watchful eyes.
"Oh come on, Bones. You can't hold out forever. I saw the way you looked at
him. Go on, let go for once." Several short thrusts punctuated his words and
McCoy couldn't help noticing the way Sulu wiggled under Jim like he was
enjoying every movement, though the man was obviously uncomfortable at being
discovered with the captain.
"I'm not staying to debate this with you; not while you're so obviously
enjoying yourself. We'll speak again later."
McCoy bowed out of the room and shut the door on Jim's final words.
"You know you want it, Bones. Yes, Sulu… exactly like that... oh yeah."
McCoy felt a nudge of desire low in his gut, despite himself. Jim had
absolutely no scruples and no sense of embarrassment either. This wasn't the
first time McCoy had walked in on him in flagrante and it was unlikely to be
the last. At least Sulu hadn't been sucking his cock… remembering the last time
that had happened sent a shot of need straight to McCoy's own member, and he
pressed the stirring through his breeches as he returned to his cabin,
muttering.
Taking a deep breath as he stood outside the door for a couple of moments,
McCoy finally felt able to face the pretty boy waiting on the other side.
"Are you all right now?" he asked gruffly as Chekov looked up at him from where
he was hunched on McCoy's bunk. Oh, God! The boy looked so… so incredibly
alluring in the dim light. Fuck Jim and his ability to read people's inner
needs so well. But no, no, he couldn't. It was beyond reasonable for Jim to
expect he'd take this innocent's virginity, no matter that he seemed to want
it.
"Yes, I think so."
"The tears were a good touch. I hope the captain's giving you extra for this.
If he doesn't, then I'll speak to him again. Please leave now."
"Tears? Leave? I don't… understand. The captain…"
"You don't need to pretend any more, Chekov. I know exactly what's going on and
I have no intention of playing the captain's little game."
"Captain Kirk plays a game? I thought… I thought he wanted to… how is it? Screw
with me?"
McCoy huffed. "Yes, to screw with you – or more precisely, with me – is exactly
what he wants. And now you've played your part in it, perhaps you can tell him
I have no need of his help any further… or yours."
"Please! Please, Dr McCoy! I do not understand. What have I done? Do you not…
you don't screw with boys; is that it?"
"That's right, Chekov. Whatever Captain Kirk led you to believe is incorrect."
Chekov didn't say anything and although his look was sorrowful, McCoy wasn't
falling for it. He pushed the cabin boy out the door and shut it behind him.
Waiting for a few moments to ensure he could hear Chekov walking away, McCoy
let out a breath of relief, turned the lamp down and returned to his bed alone.
~//~
The next morning, when McCoy was dealing with a minor injury one of the sailors
had sustained from not letting go of a piece of rigging fast enough, another
man came to tell him the captain wanted him on the bridge. He finished
stitching the wound and gathered his things slowly. Jim Kirk was the last
person he wanted to see right now, but he still had a job to do and couldn't
disobey an order.
"You needed me, Captain?"
"Yes, Bones. Mr Sulu, keep the ship on this course, will you?" Jim directed,
patting the man on the shoulder as he moved towards McCoy.
Sulu carefully did not look in McCoy's direction, and there was a slight
pinkness to his face that McCoy was sure wasn't his natural colour. Jim drew
McCoy out of Sulu's hearing and grinned. "Now, tell me you changed your mind
after you left my cabin last night?"
"You have a damned cheek, Jim. I didn't change my mind and I won't, no matter
how hard you push the boy in my direction. I've told you before, no matter how
long we're at sea, I have no intention of taking advantage of anyone so young
and inexperienced."
"Why didn't you say? Sulu would have been just as willing, and I'm sure you
realise inexperienced is the last thing he is. You could easily have agreed to
that at dinner, or did you think he was an innocent too when I suggested it?"
McCoy grit his teeth, glancing at the back of Sulu's head to ensure the man
wasn't paying attention. "I don't want an innocent – as you put it – or someone
experienced; I don't need anyone warming my bed. I'm perfectly capable of
abstaining for however long we happen to be away from port."
"Well, that's where I disagree with you, Bones. It's clear you're far too
tense, and you need some help relaxing."
"What little spare time I have is of no concern to you, Jim. I will take care
of my needs as I see fit." McCoy could see little point to the discussion; it
was the same old argument. "Now, if you have no need of me for something
medical-"
"Bones, when have I ever had anything but your best interests at heart?"
"You take great amusement in this whole thing, don't you?" McCoy was getting
angrier by the moment, though he knew it only amused Jim all the more. "Well, I
am through being your entertainment. Push your pretty little Russian in someone
else's direction."
Jim smiled and held up his hands in supplication. "I didn't push him, I swear.
He offered to come to you for advice. Said he wasn't ready to do anything with
me yet, and a doctor's instruction would help."
"That's bullshit, Jim and you know it. You manipulated him into asking to visit
me, and you implied I'd be interested in showing him exactly what you wanted
him for."
"Believe what you want. But I can assure you, Bones, he's been looking at you
almost as much as you've been watching him since we set sail. As far as I see
it, him ending up in your bed is as inevitable as the sun setting every night."
"Oh, spare me. Now, I have things to do. Can I go now?
"Yes, you can. I'll see you tonight at dinner."
"As long as we don't have to rehash this conversation again."
Jim huffed in amusement. "Go heal someone, Dr McCoy."
McCoy frowned deeply as he left the bridge. Jim was promising nothing and McCoy
was fairly certain this wasn't going to be the last he heard of it.
~//~
"Dr McCoy, may I speak with you?"
McCoy looked up from where he was dressing a wound on some idiot who'd managed
to get his head in the way of the beam as the ship jibed. Chekov looked
apologetic and desperate at the same time.
"Please, sir?" he added when McCoy didn't answer.
"Give me a minute, Chekov." McCoy returned his attention to the foolish sailor
he was attending to and quickly finished tying the dressing in place. "Now,
keep to your bunk for the rest of today and come and see me in the morning," he
instructed the man while Chekov waited patiently behind him.
"Yes, sir," the sailor replied and gingerly got to his feet before wobbling out
of the cabin and slowly making off down the passageway.
"Chekov. What can I do for you?" he tried, hoping the boy wanted something
medical, though he knew it was a vain hope.
"I wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night."
"That's not necessary, Chekov."
"I need to do it, sir. And to explain that I did not know the captain played a
game with you."
"Thank you." McCoy's voice was gruff, but he was relieved to know Chekov wasn't
complicit in Jim's tricks. "You will learn, Chekov, if you are on the
Enterprise for any length of time, that this is a game Captain Kirk likes to
play very much. He has known me a long time and takes great pleasure from
annoying me since I do not enjoy the same entertainment as he does. If you have
no interest in such things, I suggest you keep well out of his way."
Chekov's brow furrowed with concern. "If I do not sleep with him, what will he
do?"
McCoy snorted, remembering Sulu's obvious enjoyment with what was being done to
him last night. "I don't think you need worry about that."
"But I… there is…" Chekov paused, licking his lips and gazing about the cabin
as if for answers in the timbers. "Others will want to do things with me if I
am not with the captain at night."
McCoy blinked. He'd forgotten about that. No doubt the crew had kept their
hands off the cabin boy; knowing he was earmarked for Jim, they would be in
serious trouble if any of them hurt Chekov in any way. But if Jim chose to make
him sleep elsewhere, any lusty sailors in need of relief would start pestering
Chekov, and none could be trusted to be especially kind.
"What did you do last night? After you left my cabin?"
"I went back to the captain's cabin, but I could not go in; I could not
disappoint him." Chekov hung his head, his cheeks flushing. "So I went to the
sail-room and slept in the spare canvases. I could not go to the hammocks;
someone could be waiting for me and I did not want that. I cannot do that every
night though; someone will find me."
"Jesus." McCoy was sure this would play into Jim's hands as well as anything
he'd tried so far. He knew McCoy would feel sorry for the boy and consider
letting him sleep in his room. But there was little else he could do unless he
convinced Jim to bed Chekov after all. It was a valid choice, as McCoy was
fairly sure Sulu could take care of himself with the sailors, but it would mean
Chekov losing his virginity.
"Look, Chekov… this is not an invitation to anything unsavoury, and you will
have to sleep on the floor, but until I figure out something better, you can
spend the nights in my cabin."
McCoy was going to end up killing Jim Kirk; he was fairly certain of it.
~//~
McCoy wasn't looking forward to reaching his cabin that night after dinner. He
stayed with Kirk, Scotty and Spock for some time after they'd eaten – long past
Chekov being sent away for the night, though Sulu remained at Jim's side for
the duration, ostensibly to pour drinks for them, but the light touches Jim
kept bestowing on him when he knew McCoy was watching made it clear the man was
still on Jim's menu for after hours.
Eventually though, McCoy knew he'd have to stumble back to his cabin. He
dreaded how he'd find Chekov, and his mind picturing the boy in various states
of undress wasn't helping any.
Spock left first, and then Scotty soon after. Within minutes of the engineer’s
departure, Jim had Sulu in his lap. The young man seemed a little less
embarrassed tonight, but McCoy was no more interested in watching a repeat
performance of last night than he was keen to find Chekov spread out and
waiting in his own bunk.
Scratch that thought, he told himself as he retreated from the officer's mess a
few minutes later. The image it brought to mind wasn't helping at all.
Reluctantly, he headed in the direction of his bed. Like last night, he took a
moment to compose himself before entering the cabin.
To McCoy's surprise, Chekov was sitting on the floor on his meagre bedding,
well covered by his shift and his bedroll, reading by lamplight. He looked up
when McCoy entered, smiling angelically. McCoy gulped at the beauty of him in
this light, and quickly made his way to his bunk.
"Shall I help you undress, doctor?" Chekov asked, putting his book down and
making to rise.
"No!" McCoy barked, then smiled and gestured awkwardly to negate the vehemence
of his reply. "I mean, as you were, Chekov. I am capable of dealing with my own
wardrobe. Go back to your book if you wish. What are you reading?"
"Aye, Sir." Chekov looked almost disappointed, but he picked up his book and
opened it again. "It's a navigation guide. My father wanted me to study the
stars; they've always fascinated me. It's in Russian, but it's all I have." His
eyes clouded over as the recollection took over. "Father said I could study at
university and then I could try to obtain a commission as a navigator in the
navy. Coming to sea like this… is my only way of achieving that position now –
I doubt with the navy now, but navigation would still be good on a ship like
this – though it must take longer, I am thinking."
"Yes," was all McCoy was able to come up with. He could see the book was in
some other language, though he wouldn't have known Russian from Greek.
Beginning to disrobe, he nodded at Chekov. "Tell me more about your family." He
wondered if it might be painful for the boy, but decided the words he'd said so
far about his father indicated that he perhaps needed this kind of freedom to
remember the family he'd lost. Besides, McCoy was genuinely interested.
The boy spoke with such love and conviction about his parents for the next
while that McCoy quite forgot the time. He was actually enjoying hearing Chekov
speak. By now he'd managed to get into his own night shirt without exposing too
much of himself, and settle comfortably on his side in his bunk to watch the
young sailor as he spoke.
Finally, Chekov's yawning made him realise it was well past time they both
bedded down for the night.
"Thank you for sharing your story with me, Chekov," he told the boy, "but I
think we should douse the lamp. Are you on first shift tomorrow?"
"I am, sir."
"Sleep well then, and try not to disturb me when you wake."
"Aye, sir."
~//~
Several days went by in similar fashion. Jim didn't let up on the ribbing at
dinner or any other opportunity he found to do so, but McCoy did his best to
ignore it. It wasn't easy, considering how McCoy found himself increasingly
keen to get back to his own cabin and Chekov's company each night. The boy
seemed to have a natural ability with story-telling, despite his awkward
accent, and McCoy, normally fairly taciturn, was enjoying hearing about life in
Russia and about Chekov's family, even going so far as encouraging his tales by
asking questions. Chekov seemed to come more and more out of his shell too,
like McCoy's interest had sparked something deep within him.
The days seemed brighter to McCoy, though he couldn't be sure it was actually
becoming warmer despite their progress towards more equatorial regions. One
such afternoon, as he made a circumnavigation of the boat for a little exercise
after checking on Spock's current state of health, he passed a couple of men
mending sails. At first he paid them little attention, but upon moving out of
their sight heard their guffaws and paused, wondering what ribald tale could be
amusing them so.
"I heard he doesn't even make use of the boy. Shame to waste all that pretty,
fair skin."
McCoy frowned at the words, wondering. They couldn't possibly be talking about
him, could they?
"And that ass; so rounded and just begging for it. If the doctor doesn't use
it, perhaps someone needs to."
"Be careful; he's only just gone past. If you want to chart those waters, I'd
be mighty careful when and where you do it."
One of the men snorted. "If he's not frigging in the boy's rigging, why should
he care?"
"True enough."
McCoy heard them both laugh again after that. His frown deepened and he went on
his way; he would have to warn Chekov to mind his back. He wondered where the
rumour that he wasn't using Chekov had come from, but only one source would be
close to knowing the truth: Captain Jim Kirk.
Anger heated McCoy's chest as he made his way to the bridge. It was a low blow
to spread something like that, just when McCoy thought he'd helped keep the boy
from the uncouthness of sailors spared the company of women for far too long.
"What on earth do you think you're doing, Jim?" McCoy growled upon sighting his
friend at the wheel.
"Steering the ship?" Jim offered with a curious grin.
"You know that's not what I'm talking about."
"No? Well, you'll have to forgive my ignorance, Bones, but you'll have to
explain further."
"Chekov. The boy was safe when the crew thought he was in my cabin for… for my…
gratification," he stumbled over the words, feeling his face heat up some, "but
someone has put it about that it isn't so. You do know that makes him fair
game, don't you? Why would you put him in that position?"
Jim laughed. "I didn't tell anyone anything! And I'm amazed and amused how it
worries you not at all while the crew think he's your bum boy, but the minute
they believe you're a fine upstanding man without designs on the pretty young
thing sleeping in your cabin, you're back to being indignant Doctor McCoy. And
I'd have him in any position, for the record."
McCoy shut his mouth with a snap. He hadn't realised he had thought that way.
"Don't try clouding the issue, Jim. That boy's too young to be bending over for
just any coarse sailor; they won't care if they do damage, and once again I'll
be left picking up the pieces."
"Why don't you accept the inevitable then? Don't drop them."
"Drop them? Drop what?"
"The pieces. Screw him before he becomes 'pieces'. Once the crew know he's
yours, they'll leave him alone."
"Would it ever occur to you to teach your crew a little discipline? Let them
know that anyone caught with a boy like him will wind up feeling the lash?"
"You think they'd be caught? Bones, you have no idea how stealthy men can be
when they're desperate. Besides, you do know hypocrisy isn't something I
generally practice?"
"Dammit, Jim, there has to be something you can do. This boy doesn't deserve
what could happen to him simply because he's young and attractive."
"Ah-ha! So you do find him attractive; I knew it!"
Jim Kirk was the most infuriating man McCoy had ever met. McCoy swore under his
breath in annoyance. "You know that's not what I meant!"
"I don't know why you fight it so. The boy's infatuated with you; he'd be happy
to warm your bed instead of the cold cabin floor, you know."
"If you're not going to take this seriously, Jim, I can't vouch for the lad's
safety. Be it on your head if he gets hurt." McCoy scowled, able to picture all
too well what that could be like, and turned away to leave the bridge.
"You have the solution in your hands, Bones. I can't offer anything nearly as
satisfying to all parties… unless you think he'd be better off back in my
cabin."
McCoy spun at the final words and glared at Jim. "That's what got us into this
mess in the first place. I'm a doctor, not a nursemaid. If you can't choose
your crew with the head on your shoulders in future, this may well be our last
journey together."
If he could have slammed his way off the bridge, he'd have done it; as it was
he had to make do with stomping away in the same ill humour as he'd arrived.
~//~
"Chekov…" McCoy wasn't even sure how to warn the boy, and he blinked stupidly
when the young man beamed up at him expectantly.
They were in his cabin that night, readying themselves for sleep. McCoy
hesitated, and then shook his head. There was no easy way to do this. "I'd
suggest you don't wander the ship alone, Chekov."
"Sir?"
"There are some… unscrupulous members of the crew who…" He waved a hand, trying
to think of the right wording.
"Who want to screw with me?"
McCoy blinked again. Had Chekov heard the rumours?
"You are thinking I have not heard; that these men have not made any approach
yet. I am not so young and stupid, Doctor. I have heard them talk. I am
grateful to you for letting me stay with you though you will not screw with
me." His head was tilted and his expression stoic. "If they try anything, I
will tell them I am…"
"You do realise they've left you alone while they think you're… with me? Much
as they can be rough, these men respect the officers; respect the order of
things. Captain Kirk has instilled that in them and they know there would be
punishment if they try anything. The problem right now is-"
Chekov cut him off before he could finish. "They have been told you don't touch
me."
McCoy scowled as he looked at Chekov, but the boy had lowered his head to study
his own knees intently as he pulled them nearer under his bedding. How quickly
word got around on board a ship. McCoy would have done anything not to be
having such a conversation with this lad, and he felt his chest tighten at the
thought of Chekov having to fend off unwelcome advances.
"If you ask it… I would be willing, Doctor." Chekov still wasn't looking at
him, but his voice sounded steady and determined.
"Yes, yes…" McCoy felt cornered, something he'd thought he was past. They'd
managed nicely until now and he'd been enjoying Chekov's company without sex
raising its ugly head.
"But you're not interested. I understand." Chekov looked up at last,
disappointment showing through the brave face he'd put on.
"It's not…"
"I am not what you want in a bed-mate. I understand this, Doctor McCoy. Please,
do not concern yourself with my… problems. You do not need to protect me. I
will do what I must."
McCoy frowned. "Do what you must? What do you mean?"
Chekov shrugged. "I will do what it takes to satisfy them. I'm not helpless.
What they want… I can…" He gulped, then tried to smile. "I want what they want,
anyway. Perhaps one of them will be kind."
"No!"
"No? But… some of them do not seem so cruel. I… It's true I am inexperienced,
but I can learn."
"The whole point of you staying here with me was that you weren't supposed to
have to do that, Chekov! Don't you see?" McCoy felt his chest tighten further,
and then something more occurred to him. "Has someone approached you?"
Chekov looked at him for a moment before answering. "There is one man who asked
me if it was true I was not your boy in all ways. He tells me he will look
after me if I wish it. That he won't let anyone else be with me if I do what he
wants."
A white hot anger started to pulse behind McCoy's eyes and he sat up in his
bunk. "Who is this man?" He'd find the bastard right now and punch him six ways
to Sunday. He had no right to suggest such a thing to Chekov.
"Doctor, I don't think…"
"Who is he?"
"Midshipman. His name is Willis. He seems like a nice man." Chekov didn't look
too sure, and McCoy wasn't about to let this Willis anywhere near him.
"I need to have a word with him. Where's his hammock?"
"No, please, Doctor, that's not necessary!" Chekov scrambled out of his bedroll
and crawled towards McCoy before he could stand up, kneeling at his feet and
clutching at his legs to keep him where he was on the bunk's edge.
"What are you doing?" McCoy tried to prize Chekov's fingers off, but the boy
seemed desperate to make him understand something. "I don't want him doing
anything to you. You-"
"Please… you don't?" Chekov looked at him curiously, though he hadn't released
his hold on McCoy.
"He shouldn't… you are… I don't like… that is…" McCoy felt his face heating up
and he stopped speaking as Chekov stared at him like he'd suddenly understood
something.
"You don't want him to touch me because…" There was a small smile starting on
Chekov's face, but he didn't finish the sentence. He merely looked at McCoy
like he couldn't believe what he was just beginning to realise.
McCoy stared back at him uncertainly for a while; neither one spoke for a few
minutes.
Then: "Tell me why you really do not want him touching me, Doctor McCoy,
please?"
"Because you are young and inexperienced and…"
"And?"
"Dammit…" Chekov's touch was like a sweet agony, his fingers relaxing into a
caress on McCoy's legs through the thinness of his nightshirt. "I want…"
Chekov moved nearer, his fresh young features closer to McCoy's face than he'd
seen them so far. His heart began to thump, and McCoy was sure it was loud
enough for Chekov to hear.
"What do you want?" Chekov's voice was barely louder than a whisper but the
question seemed to offer so much.
"I want… I want… you."
"Then why don't you take me?"
McCoy shut his eyes. This wasn't right. His head told him it wasn't the right
thing – the proper thing – but his body wanted this so very much.
"I can't…"
"Why not?" Chekov's whisper was so very near that the words tickled his ears,
and his lips were so close that McCoy could feel the hairs on his neck stand up
at the puff of warm air accompanying the words. "I want you to take me. I am
yours; only yours."
"I… I…" It was too much.
And no one else should have him.
McCoy opened his eyes slowly as he tried to focus on what his head said was the
right thing to do. But the beauty of the young man and his clear, blue eyes
staring so intently into McCoy's own completely cut off all thought.
Without another word he leaned forward, bringing their lips into contact. The
softness was almost unexpected, and the tiny sound Chekov made at the
connection made McCoy hesitate, but then Chekov reached up and grabbed his
neck, pulling them back together and deepening the kiss.
McCoy moaned into Chekov's mouth, drawing the boy into the bunk with him.
Chekov's hands pushed at his nightshirt, his rough fingers stroking at McCoy's
thighs as they lay down. McCoy drew back from the kiss, swallowing hard as he
rolled the boy under him and finally let his hands caress the virtually
hairless but firm muscles of Chekov's legs and stomach.
Scrabbling against him, Chekov pulled off his shift and began unbuttoning
McCoy's nightshirt. McCoy let him pull it off and then their naked bodies were
pressed together. His cock pulsing with need, McCoy grasped the boy's buttocks,
pulling him nearer and grinding their groins together as he found the boy's
mouth again.
Chekov whimpered, but the hardness of his young prick made it obvious he was
more than willing. His hands wrapped around McCoy and they rocked into each
other, the excitement building in each of them obvious. McCoy could feel
Chekov's heart thumping erratically; his own wasn't much different. The taste
of the boy was exquisite and he couldn't get enough. Unsure how he'd held back
thus far, McCoy ran his tongue down Chekov's neck, and allowed a gap for his
hand to search between them.
The gasp Chekov let out when he found the lad's cock and wrapped his hand
around it urged him onward, though Chekov was muttering something he didn't
quite get; perhaps in Russian.
"Doctor, let me…" The words finally became clear, and McCoy pulled back to
listen properly. The boy smiled at him, then slid sideways and lowered his head
along McCoy's torso, dropping a kiss every few inches as McCoy lay on his back
on the narrow bunk.
McCoy's breath caught as Chekov's pink lips neared his straining erection and
the boy looked up at him with needy eyes. "I want this, Doctor McCoy; please
let me?"
Unable to stop himself, McCoy nodded, transfixed by the sight of Chekov's
tongue as it circled his cockhead. "Ohhhh…"
Then Chekov was covering the whole glans with his soft, wet mouth and suckling
like it was his mama's teat and he was starved. The pleasure that shot through
McCoy had him closing his eyes and rolling his hips into the action. He let a
hand find the back of the boy's head and ran his fingers through the soft curls
as Chekov did his best to blow McCoy's mind as well as his cock.
Untested he might be, but Chekov seemed to instinctively know exactly what to
do to give McCoy maximum pleasure, and finally he had to push the boy away
before he let it all go.
"Please…" Chekov whined, trying to get his mouth back onto McCoy's cock.
"No… no, you… you don't want that," McCoy struggled to tell him.
Chekov looked at him petulantly as he kneeled up, his own young prick pink and
rigid. McCoy reached for it, stroking it gently and causing the boy to lose the
sulky look instantly.
"Come," McCoy tugged lightly, his other hand at Chekov's waist, urging him
forward.
Chekov drew in a breath and nodded, shifting to straddle McCoy. Impressed that
the boy understood what he was aiming for, McCoy smiled at him and reached
behind himself, letting Chekov go as he sought the small pottle of grease that
had been abandoned some days earlier when Chekov first came to his cabin. McCoy
had to roll his eyes at himself for knowing exactly where it was, and he tried
not to think how he had probably known he would give into this eventually.
By the time he turned back, Chekov was on his knees over him, looking at him
expectantly through vivid blue eyes. McCoy smiled at him lopsidedly and held
the pottle up. "You ready? It may sting at first, but I'll try to be gentle."
"I know you will, Doctor."
The trust in those eyes was stunning, and McCoy felt a tightness in his chest
at the boy's willingness. He wanted to ask if he was sure, but Chekov had
already confirmed his desires and certainly didn't seem any more hesitant now.
Something else was bothering him about the situation though. "Call me Leonard."
"Yes… Leonard. I am ready."
McCoy nodded and dipped a couple of fingers into the pot, drawing out a
generous glob of grease and reaching for Chekov.
"It will be easier if I turn about, no?" Chekov smiled and shifted himself
before McCoy could agree or not, but he was right, for this part at least.
Nodding again, McCoy put a hand on Chekov's lower back as the boy leaned
forward, exposing his perfect virgin asshole for McCoy's inspection. McCoy
closed his eyes momentarily, sure he was going to hell for wanting this so
much. Opening them again, he slowly circled his greased fingers around the
pucker, eliciting a sharp gasp from Chekov.
Circling the hand he had on Chekov's back in reassurance, McCoy spent a few
more minutes simply circling and stroking over the spot he was dying to
plunder. He was a patient man though, and no matter how needy he felt, he truly
wanted this to be a good experience for his young friend.
Chekov was obviously getting impatient though, as he started to whimper and
rock backwards, like he knew exactly where McCoy's fingers should be buried.
Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, McCoy gently dipped a finger-tip
inside the waiting hole, shifting himself beside Chekov so he could slide his
other hand around Chekov's slim hips and down to grasp his prick in his hand.
"Ohhh…" Chekov sounded as breathless as McCoy felt.
McCoy slowly pushed his finger deeper, gently pumping the heated cock in even
strokes to give Chekov something good to take his mind off any discomfit or
strangeness at the action at his rear.
"More, please…" Chekov moaned, arching his back.
McCoy's finger seemed about as deep as it was going to reach, so he began
gliding it in and out carefully, astounded at the heat and the way Chekov was
using his internal muscles to tighten and loosen convulsively against the
digit. A groan escaped McCoy as he thought on how that would feel around his
cock, and he drew back enough to add a second finger.
Chekov's response was delightful: he rocked harder, tightening the muscles and
then releasing them enough for McCoy's fingers to slide deeper. He curled them,
stroking the boy's cock more firmly with his other hand in counterpoint to the
action.
The gasp from Chekov as McCoy found his prostate was almost too much to bear,
and McCoy's cock pulsed in desperate need as he circled his fingers, stretching
the channel in readiness for what he knew would be a shock should he give in to
that need.
"Please, please…" Chekov begging, turning his liquid eyes back over his
shoulder at McCoy.
"Yes, now, if you can turn onto your back?" McCoy asked, slipping his fingers
out and gently guiding the boy down to the bedding. He moved over him and
leaned down to kiss at Chekov's soft lips as he continued to fondle his prick.
Moving away to smile at Chekov's blindingly brilliant look of trust, he dipped
into the pottle for more grease, slathering it generously over his own cock and
hissing at the touch. "Are you ready? I'll take it slow; just tell me if you
want me to stop," he murmured, dipping in to peck at the delicious lips again.
"Mmhmm," Chekov assented, reaching to hold McCoy over him, and spreading his
legs easily. "Your… your… please?"
McCoy wasn't sure what Chekov was trying to say beyond how much he wanted this,
and there was no way he could think on it more; his need was too much. "Here."
McCoy angled his cock against the boy's crack and slid the tip down, a groan
escaping as it nudged against the place he so desperately needed it to be.
And then, at last, he was slipping slowly inside the boy's body; his cock
sticking slightly as it met the ring of muscles inside. Chekov tilted his hips
as McCoy pushed further, allowing it past with a combined groan from them both.
McCoy stopped dead, seeking Chekov's eyes and holding his gaze questioningly
until Chekov breathed out and smiled, giving a nod for McCoy to continue.
It was divine; the grease easing the way perfectly, and the pulse of those
muscles tightening and relaxing against his firm flesh had McCoy panting to
move faster, but still he held back. Hurting this beautiful youth was the last
thing he wanted, and he had come so far without doing so yet.
"More, please, please, now!" Chekov bit out, arching up under him and gripping
the back of McCoy's neck more harshly.
McCoy nodded, and slid back a little before dipping in deeper, gaining
confidence to move faster as Chekov responded with an erotic groan that hit
McCoy somewhere inside his heart, judging by the feeling deep inside him.
"Yes, yes…" McCoy couldn't help himself. He gripped Chekov's hips more tightly,
seeking a steady rhythm.
Chekov's eyes were wide, but he didn't seem to be in pain, and McCoy tried
slowing down, but that only made him frown. "Okay?"
"Please, please, don't… don't stop!" Chekov gasped, reaching between them to
stroke at his own leaking cock.
McCoy wanted to do what Chekov was doing, but his own pleasure was rising fast.
Seeing the boy squeeze his own prick hit him low and hard, his orgasm
spiralling up and spilling out of him with a rush that he hadn't expected.
Panting hard, McCoy thrust three, four more times, Chekov's body tightening
unbelievably around him as he hit his own peak and his milky seed jetted out
between them.
McCoy groaned as he collapsed down on the spent boy, his come spreading coolly
over both of their skins as they sought each other's mouths and tangled their
limbs together in bliss. McCoy's flaccid prick slipped from Chekov's body as
they rolled to face each other, and he sighed contentedly into the boy's skin.
"That… that was amazing, Doctor," Chekov whispered, kissing eagerly at his
collarbone. "I knew I wanted it, but I didn't know how wonderful it could be."
McCoy offered the soft lips another gentle kiss and smiled at him. "You must
call me Leonard when we are alone."
"Mmhmm, Leonard." Chekov sounded half-asleep already, and yawned as if to
emphasise it.
"Sleep now… What is your first name?" It seemed disturbing suddenly that McCoy
hadn't thought to ask it before.
"Pavel," came the sleepy reply, "but I would like to be your Pasha."
"Pasha," McCoy repeated softly, liking the way the word felt on his tongue. He
ruffled the soft curls and smiled at Pasha's slowly relaxing features as he
fell into sleep.
For the first time on this journey, sleep came easily to McCoy too, and he was
sure the smile was still on his lips as he gave into it.
~//~
"I knew you'd come around, Bones!" Jim Kirk smirked as his eyes found Chekov in
amongst the sailors heaving on the main sheet.
McCoy frowned deeply, following his line of sight. "I don't know what you're
talking about, Jim."
"Oh, I think you do," Jim told him, as they stood together on the bridge,
watching the young man laughing and joking with the other crew members as they
reeled in the sail. "Whatever the two of you have been up to in your cabin at
night has certainly put him in good spirits of late."
Unable to admit anything to give Jim the satisfaction of being correct, McCoy
growled back at him, "He's gained his sea legs and found friends amongst the
crew. That's all; nothing more."
Jim's laughter at this caused several of the crew to turn in their direction,
Chekov included. When he caught sight of Bones, his beautiful smile widened
into a look that no one would mistake as anything but one of adoration. The
expression made McCoy's brows smooth out in pleasure before he could catch
himself. He looked away again as soon as he became aware of Jim's hand finding
his shoulder and the man's low chuckle reached his ears.
"I can't say I expected any less; not this time. He's one of the prettiest and
most agreeable lads I've had for a cabin boy – aside from Sulu – in some time,"
Jim murmured from inches away. "Not that Sulu is a cabin boy, but he functions
beautifully as one late at night, as I'm sure you realise."
McCoy gave his captain and friend a sideways scowl. "And you will never let me
forget it, will you?"
Jim squeezed his shoulder and let him go, his smile growing as he leered across
the bridge towards Sulu. "There's nothing to be gained from denying oneself,
Bones. And the boy evidently loves it. I knew he would! He adored you before he
ever convinced you how willing he was. It was you he wanted all along! How is
he, by the way? I'd love to see if he's as incredible as Sulu."
"I'm a doctor, not a performer, Jim! I'm not about to flaunt anything in front
of you." He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Jim's words. His Pasha was so
beautiful; McCoy's chest tightened at the idea of anyone touching the boy other
than himself. "And if you lay so much as a finger on him, I won't be able to
answer for my actions."
Jim laughed again, sounding delighted. "Oh, it's even better than I'd hoped.
You are as smitten as he is."
McCoy folded his arms across his chest, allowing his gaze to flicker briefly in
the direction of Chekov. He looked back at Jim's broad grin and shook his head,
a small smile creeping onto his lips despite his reluctance to accept that it
was Jim's persistence that had led to him being happier than he could recall in
years. "I won't admit such a thing. But I will say this, Jim Kirk: a journey
with you is never without adventure."
Jim's smirk quirked up even higher at one side. "Does that mean this won't be
our last voyage together after all, then?
"If you keep this cabin boy on, Jim, I may just have to come along to keep an
eye on him. I doubt you'd keep your hands off him for long if you travel
without me."
Jim's eyes seemed to drift in Sulu's direction and McCoy drew his brows
together, then lifted them in amazement as Sulu offered the man his own shy
smile from under the hair blowing into his eyes from the soft breeze stirring
around them.
"I don't believe it," McCoy muttered. "You, too?"
Jim turned back to him, his smirk still in evidence, but something bright and
joyous that McCoy had never before seen in his eyes. Jim said nothing to answer
McCoy's words, but after a moment he huffed a light laugh.
After a moment more, McCoy realised there was nothing he could do but clap his
friend on the shoulder and join in with his contented laughter.
Truly, the most incredible things happened at sea.
~//~//~

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