THE RETURN

By Karmen Ghia

Series: TOS

Rating: R

Romance Code: S/C

Summary: This is the sequel to Skazitelnitsky's very fine story "The Taming". If you have not yet read it please hit the back button above and read it. I assure you, you will enjoy this story ever so much more.

Warning: This story contains m/m sex. If you are not interested in and/or offended by such things, you will find reading this a complete waste of your time so please move on. If you are under 18 years of age, please move on. Children, childhood ends all too soon and adulthood lasts all too long. All this will still be around when you are old enough to read it so there is something to look forward to.

Disclaimer: Copyright 1998 by Karmen Ghia. This is an original work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek. It makes transformative use of Star Trek and is intended only for noncommercial purposes. This work makes "fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; it is not intended to infringe on the intellectual property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of copyright in Star Trek or any of their assignees or licensees. The author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work.

Thank you to Skazitelnitsky and Jane Seaton

For Dr. Lagonda.

THE RETURN, by Karmen Ghia

Chekov had nearly drifted off to sleep again when his captor returned. He watched in silence as the Klingon put away his weapons and undressed in the dim lights of his sleeping quarters. He could do little else, lashed down as he was.

The Klingon rolled his powerful shoulders as he drew near. He looked down at the ensign for a moment before seating himself on the edge of the bed.

'We are victorious,' he said quietly, letting the backs of his thick fingers play up and down the silent human's ribcage.

'Did you sleep a bit more or was there too much noise?' He asked tenderly, brushing Chekov's hair out of his eyes, stroking down his cheek and onto his shoulder.

'I am ready to claim my reward, my prize.' His hand moved lower onto the human's chest. He stroked a nipple to hardness with only his fingertips. He bent his head to caress the hardened flesh with his tongue. He moved leisurely to its already hardening rosy twin.

'Stop,' Chekov whispered desperately, trying to twist from under his captor. 'Please.'

'No. Not this time. I will have what is mine.' The Klingon undid the gold sash and pulled the oversized pants down and off, completely ignoring the human's futile struggles. Taking a firm grip on each ankle, he spread the human's legs very wide. Pinning the struggling ensign's hips to the bed, he clamped a thigh under each arm and looked appreciatively at his captive.

"You are very beautiful, my prize," He played his lips around Chekov's navel, gliding lower. "And most passionate now that you have more understanding of yourself." He moved his lips to caress the ensign's hardening penis.

Chekov jerked at his chains and arched and twisted with all his might. To no effect; the Klingon held him securely as he enjoyed the ensign's captive flesh. Chekov was helpless to stop and horrified that the Klingon was bringing him to full arousal.

'Let me go, Klingon!'

'Mmmmmm.'

'Let me go,' he panted, arching, lost, despairing and trying desperately not to climax.

The Klingon stilled his motions and let the breathless human pull himself together. Much to Chekov's relief, he slowly pulled his mouth off the ensign's erection and sat back, gazing at the flushed, panting human.

'Most passionate, most spirited,' the Klingon murmured with approval, caressing the soft skin on Chekov's inner thigh. He teased the human's erection with a fingertip until a bead of moisture appeared on the head.

Without another word he rolled Chekov over, pushing the struggling human's hips down on the bunk with one giant hand; caressing his ass with the other. He reached under the human and rubbed some of Chekov's own moisture onto his thick fingers. He spread the firm round flesh beneath him and stroked the entrance to Chekov's body with his slick fingers.

Grunting with approval, he pressed in one finger, slowly and gently, as far as it would go.

'You're very tight, my little virgin,' he murmured, pressing in a second thick finger, watching Chekov's helpless squirming with amusement. 'You will give me much pleasure.' He moved his fingers around, loosening the tight muscles, making them slippery. 'You, however, will have some pain, the first time is always painful. Here, bite off your screams with this so they do not distract me.' He pushed the discarded gag between Chekov's teeth and positioned his cock above the trembling human flesh.

Chekov sensed more than saw the Klingon recoil his powerful hips in order to plunge full length into the cringing human beneath him.

He woke choking on his scream, in his own quarters on the Enterprise and still could not feel safe.

He flung on some clothes and fled his cabin. He needed to move, to be in larger spaces where he would not feel so confined.

Confined. Not confined. Not confined any longer.

Chekov walked through the deserted late night corridors of the Enterprise in search of a safe and peaceful place to hide for a while.

* * *

Spock stood waiting for the turbolift and mentally reviewed the conversation he'd just concluded with McCoy and Kirk in the Captain's quarters.

"We reach Starbase 25 in 20 days. If I do not see serious improvement in Chekov's condition by that time, I will have him put off this ship for medical reasons and given a desk assignment."

McCoy and Spock received this pronouncement from their Captain in silence.

"Unless one of you can get through to him."

Kirk eyed his CMO and First Officer.

"I can't really help him, Jim, as long as the mission he was on remains classified at Level Five." McCoy found Kirk's attitude toward Chekov's distress insensitive and unfeeling. "Star Fleet Intelligence has this thing wrapped up so tight we were lucky to get him back at all. The other three prisoners are still in a secure hospital on Starbase 16."

"They were in worse shape than Chekov, Bones."

"Physically."

They were silent, mulling it over for the nth time.

Chekov was returned to the Enterprise by Star Fleet Intelligence after Kirk raised hell with all the admirals he could find. Chekov came back to them thinner and quieter. He was not eating much or sleeping well. He was pale, tired and jittery. He shied away from being touched and avoided his shipmates. He was as efficient as ever on the Bridge but Kirk's concern was that he would crack under more pressure than they had had of late. The Enterprise would head into deep space after a brief stop at Starbase 25. Kirk did not feel he could risk his ship with Chekov in his current condition.

Sulu, Uhura, McCoy, and even Scotty had tried to talk to him, somehow reassure him, but it was almost impossible to talk about something that was so tightly classified not even Kirk knew what Chekov might have had happen to him aboard the Klingon battlecruiser.

Nothing good; that was certain. The other prisoners were still hospitalized as a result of being tortured by the Klingons. Those who worked closely with the ensign tried not to imagine what might or might not have happened.

"Yes, physically he's in better shape than the others, but emotionally.... You're a doctor, you tell me." Kirk was annoyed at all their helplessness.

"I can only speculate, Jim, but from what I've seen of him I would say that his trauma very much resembles that of a rape victim."

"I looked at his medical report, Bones, he wasn't raped." Kirk's voice was cold and factual.

"No, he was not forcibly sodomized, orally or analy," Kirk winced. 'Good' McCoy thought, 'let's see how you like your data cold and factual.' He continued in his most clinical manner:

"Klingons, as a rule, don't rape their prisoners but when they do, they do a lot of damage. Being that Chekov is small and Klingons are big, I can only speculate that if he'd been raped he'd still be in the hospital. Since that is not the case, I can only wonder, in the absence of physical evidence of sexual assault, what, exactly, happened to him. He has suffered some serious captivity trauma, be it sexual or psychological abuse or both and more. Since no one on this ship has Level Five clearance, he can't talk about it." McCoy turned his head and gave Spock a hard look: "Out loud."

"Are you asking Spock to break the spirit of the law but not the letter, Bones?" Kirk asked coolly after a moment.

"Is it worse than watching Chekov go to pieces under our very noses, Jim?" McCoy was testy. "Orders, Doctor, are unfortunately orders," Kirk said quietly. "We can't ask Spock to disobey them."

"We're not. We don't want to know what happened, we just want Chekov to find some relief," McCoy rapped out. He continued, "Chekov needs to share whatever happened with someone he trusts and, unfortunately, in this situation that can only be with Spock." He looked at the Vulcan, "If you're willing, that is."

"What do you think, Spock?" Kirk finally asked after a space of silence.

"I agree with Dr. McCoy."

And he had agreed with McCoy, completely, he was very much aware of Chekov's present condition. Both Kirk and McCoy had, after realizing this was indeed all the First Officer had to say, reminded him how much Chekov respected him, how closely the two worked together, how long they'd been shipmates.

Spock had not denied any of it, however, he was unsure of exactly what he could do. Chekov was only slightly less withdrawn with Spock than with anyone else. Also, a Level Five security code was still a Level Five security code. He could only help the ensign if Chekov was willing to be helped. And lastly, only if he was willing to allow Spock to touch him and Chekov seemed to be terrified of being touched.

Spock was not very fond of being touched himself and even though Chekov did not repel him, he would have preferred to keep his usual Vulcan distance.

Spock sighed mentally. Although he saw the Captain's point, he did not want Chekov removed from the Enterprise. He had missed the ensign's presence during his absence and was pleased by his return. Spock had grown accustomed to seeing the ensign daily and would notice the departure of so reliable and efficient a colleague.

He would more than notice his departure but the Vulcan decided not to dwell on what had not yet occurred and focus on what might yet be done to avoid it.

He stepped into the turbolift. For want of a better destination to think in peace and privacy at this late hour he directed it to the Observation deck.

* * *

Spock looked out at the peaceful silent stars and realized he was not alone. He waited for the other person on the Observation deck to make their presence known by leaving. He considered it a benefit of life among humans that most of them left wherever he was after a few moments with the silent, intense First Officer.

He continued to listen to the other's breathing, realizing that it was too shallow for conscious human respiration. He walked along the viewports until he came upon Pavel Chekov curled up and sound asleep on a bench.

Spock gave a moment of thought to serendipity and seated himself next to the sleeping ensign's knees.

'He sleeps like a child' Spock thought, watching the haggard young face in repose.

Chekov came a awake with a start and banged his head into the wall behind him, alarmed at finding someone sitting so close.

"I did not mean to startle you, Ensign," Spock said gently.

"Oh, sir, I'm ... I was asleep." He blushed.

Spock merely nodded, watching. He'd always considered blushing an interesting, if not charming phenomenon in humans. Especially in Chekov and Kirk. Few knew it but Spock was not completely immune to charm.

"Yes," Spock began quietly after Chekov had composed himself. "I did not wish to disturb you. I notice that you are not as rested since your return."

Chekov lowered his eyes. Spock regarded him in silence for a while.

"What is troubling you, Chekov?"

"I cannot tell you, sir."

"I am only interested in your well being."

Chekov raised his eyes; they were large with misery and weariness. Spock suppressed an urge to reach out and brush the ensign's hair out of them.

"I know, sir, I am sorry. I ... " He trailed off.

Spock drew a quiet breath and made a decision.

"Chekov, I can," he paused, looking for an adequate word in Standard, settled for, "help you through this in a way that will not cause you to disobey your orders."

It sounded puny to Spock but it had Chekov's full attention. Still, the ensign hesitated.

"It will, however," Spock watched him closely, "be necessary for me to touch you."

Chekov hoped his flinch was unobtrusive but Spock saw it anyway. The Vulcan had said all he had to say and was willing to wait as long as it took to get an answer.

"Mr. Spock..." Chekov looked hard at the science officer and faltered.

Spock softened his gaze in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.

Chekov swallowed and nodded, "I would like to try, sir." He sat up straight, facing the Vulcan.

Spock slowly moved a bit closer.

"Try to relax, Chekov, and clear your thoughts. Look at the viewport over my shoulder."

Spock gently moved his fingers into meld position on the ensign's face. He sensed Chekov's desire to shy away from his touch and his struggle to master his trepidation.

Not wishing to frighten Chekov, Spock softly initiated a shallow meld and let it move slowly ahead, allowing the ensign to control the pace. He felt the ensign relax under his hands.

Spock gently cast his own memory back to the last day Chekov had been on the Enterprise. He had said goodbye to Spock at the end of his Bridge shift and politely asked if there was anything from Starbase 16 Spock might like him to bring back. Spock had thanked him and declined. He remembered how Chekov's eyes had glowed with the pleasure of the little adventure he was about to embark on.

Spock quietly pushed his own thought aside as Chekov's own memories moved to the forefront of the meld.

He watched with detachment Chekov piloting the small craft, speaking briefly to his passengers, flirting with the woman ('normal', Spock thought beneath the level of Chekov's notice). He watched the craft being boarded by Klingons, their futile resistance (Spock quietly admired Chekov's hand to hand combat ability; quite impressive for someone of Chekov's small stature, nevertheless..). He watched quietly as Chekov was led away from the detention area and through the Klingon ship (he began to sense dread in this memory and reached out to subtly soothe the ensign). He had his first look at the big Klingon to whom Chekov was led in manacles.

/'Is this the one you wanted?' 'Yes'/

He listened to Chekov's sound but futile arguments, saw the ensign overpowered, bound, stripped and beaten. (Spock damped down his own growing unease and soothed Chekov, who was feeling his distress all over again.) He felt the alcohol on the welts, felt Chekov's rage. (But no fear; fascinating.)

He observed Chekov's fuming in the dark, trying to ignore the abuse his back had taken, his relief that he'd not been raped, his discomfort being chained over the end of the bed ... the Klingon's feet on his aching back ... his exhaustion ... his .....

/zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzz/

Spock pulled gently back from the meld to find Chekov sound asleep again.

He let Chekov's head rest on his shoulder while he reviewed the events he'd seen in the meld. Distressing as they had been, surely they could not completely account for Chekov's poor psychological condition now. There must be more.

But Spock decided this was all he would try for this evening. It was now very late and Chekov needed sleep more than anything at the moment.

He looked down at the sleeping ensign and chose not to wake him. He slipped his arms under Chekov's back and legs, lifting him with no more effort than lifting a child. Unbidden, the image of the Klingon overpowering Chekov came to his mind's eye; he pushed it away.

In the lateness of the hour, Spock had not expected to meet anyone on his way to Chekov's quarters. He was not, however, displeased to see Sulu enter the turbolift.

"What happened, Mr. Spock?"

"I found him sleeping on the observation deck."

"Oh," Sulu seemed disturbed by that. He looked at Chekov sleeping peacefully in Spock's arms. "Well, I guess I can put him to bed." He held out his own arms.

Spock thought this was fascinating but couldn't exactly put his finger on why. He was further distracted by the turbolift halting on the Chekov's quarter's deck. He ignored Sulu's outstretched arms and stepped out of the lift.

"Perhaps you would assist me, Mr. Sulu."

They silently proceeded down the corridor.

Inside Chekov's quarters, Spock's first thought was that they lacked ornament and he approved. He laid the sleeping ensign on his bed while Sulu pulled off his boots.

'What delicate little white feet you have' Chekov heard the Klingon say in his dream and sat up with a gasp. He looked around wildly only to find Spock and Sulu watching him; one with interest, the other with concern. He was trying to recall when Sulu had joined them and couldn't.

"It's alright, Pavel, go back to sleep. Good night." Sulu moved toward the door.

"Good night, Mr. Chekov," Spock turned to join Sulu.

"Mr. Spock," Chekov said quietly, "if you would please stay for a moment longer..." He looked at Sulu and smiled weakly, "Good night, Sulu."

Spock turned back to Chekov and Sulu took one last look at them before leaving. He shook himself and went off to his own bed.

The Vulcan drew near the bed and looked down at Chekov. He then impulsively seated himself on the ensign's bed to observe, deeply puzzled, Chekov's subtle cringing.

"Chekov?"

Chekov pulled himself together: "Sir?"

Spock waited for more, got none and gave up:

"Will you be able to sleep, Ensign?" he asked at last.

Chekov looked dubious but said yes, he thought so.

Spock had another moment of reckless impulse:

"Would you like me to stay until you fall asleep, Chekov?" Gently, softly.

"I do not wish to inconvenience you, sir."

"You do not."

"I would like that very much, Mr. Spock, thank you." Barely above a whisper.

Spock moved to the other side of the bed, kicked off his boots and sat cross-legged. He pulled the reader over and turned it on. He looked down at Chekov.

"Do you always sleep in your uniform, Ensign?"

"No, sir, not usually."

Spock raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Chekov slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom. He emerged some moments later, face washed and wearing a short chestnut colored robe. Unlike his gold uniform, the robe made his skin seem whiter and more luminous, thus emphasizing his deep brown hair and dark eyes with their long jet lashes.

Spock took in these details in his usual scientific observation-like flash and further observed that the combination of elements was, indeed, aesthetically pleasing to him. He turned his attention to the chemical monograph he'd called up.

"Turn off the light if you wish, Ensign."

"I prefer to leave it on low, sir."

"May I know why?"

"So if I wake I know where I am."

Spock pondered this for a moment:

"Do you wake often?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

Chekov hesitated:

"I have dreams, sir."

Spock was not troubled by such things but could understand the concept:

"Indeed." He turned his attention back to the reader as Chekov turned down the light and settled himself to sleep.

He was very tired so he was asleep almost immediately. Spock split his attention between the reader and listening to Chekov's breathing. When it became irregular and the ensign began to thrash, he moved his fingers into a light meld position.

*The Klingon pulled Chekov, as naked as he, against his chest and ran his hands down the front of the struggling human's body.*

*'You are well made for a human, my prize,' the Klingon whispered in his ear. "And the feel of your pretty white skin squirming against me is most arousing.'*

*Chekov redoubled his struggles but to no avail; he was securely shackled to the head and foot to the Klingon's bed.*

*The Klingon lowered his lips to caress Chekov's neck. His fingers found hard little nipples to tweak before moving lower.*

*'Get your filthy hands off me, you Klingon bastard!'*

*The Klingon grunted with satisfaction. 'Your coy wriggling is most exciting, human. You fight me and yourself at the same time; you cannot defeat either.' As if to prove his point, his huge hand closed over the head of Chekov's erect penis (Fascinating).*

*(Spock could feel Chekov's panic rise.)*

*'You have, my prize, sufficiently aroused me. And very nicely, too, I must say.' The Klingon wedged a knee between the human's legs and took a firm grip on his hips to hold them steady. He slipped his cock between the ensign's helpless cheeks, unerringly finding the flesh he sought...*

Spock felt Chekov's panic notch up and reached out into the meld to gently lift him out of REM sleep. He settled the ensign into a lighter, more peaceful doze and mentally tiptoed out of his consciousness.

He sat back to observe Chekov's calmer slumber and consider his nightmare.

'There is no physical evidence that the events of this dream occurred,' he speculated. 'How, then, can they be so vivid? Also,' he thought back to Chekov's erection in the dream, 'why is he fighting the Klingon, as repelled as he is aroused by him?'

This was something that had always puzzled Spock: how often out of sync human mental and physical reactions were.

Spock paused to wonder at his own reaction to the dream. Although he would never tell another, he had found it oddly arousing to observe Chekov's erotic struggles against his Klingon ravisher. How unfortunate that it was so distressing for Chekov.

'Yes, very, very distressing for Chekov and that', Spock reminded himself sternly, 'is the matter at hand.'

'No wonder he cannot sleep if he's raped every night in his dreams.' Spock looked at the reader's chrono and considered how little sleep he, as a Vulcan, really needed to function properly. He called up another paper that he'd been intending to read.

'As I will be here all night, I might as well make good use of the time.'

Chekov tossed a little more but was soothed by Spock's warm hand on his arm. He slept peacefully and without interruption the rest of the night. This was the longest, best sleep he had had since before leaving the Enterprise.

Spock read everything on his list and a started a reply to his mother's last letter to while away the night as he guarded Chekov's sleep.

* * *

Chekov's fresher appearance on the Bridge the following morning was cause for quiet rejoicing amongst his shipmates.

Spock and Sulu, however, looked as if they could use a little sleep.

Spock had left Chekov's quarters shortly before the ensign's alarm was set, feeling confident that he would not be seriously plagued by dreams in that brief time.

Sulu, more disturbed by his encounter with Spock and Pavel than he'd like to admit, had given up on sleeping and was on his way to the gym when he met Spock coming out of Chekov's quarters.

"Mr. Spock."

"Mr. Sulu."

Sulu had given his workout his full attention so as not to dwell on why Spock had spent the night with Pavel and what they did. That, in itself, might have been an interesting train of thought had the helmsman not been so preoccupied by why he had not spent the night with Pavel himself, and what they might have done if he had.

'I can't think about this now,' he thought as he showered. He hadn't known he'd had a crush on Pavel until the incident with the Klingons threw it into sharp relief. And then, to get him back only to lose him to Spock. How humiliating; what can Pavel be thinking? In bed with Spock? It boggles the mind!

Spock, on the other hand, had noticed almost nothing. He merely assumed Sulu's distraction was due to fatigue or malaise or mood or some other incomprehensible human aliment. He did not give it any further thought.

Kirk, Uhura and Scott merely gave thanks to various deities and the resilience of youth for this slight improvement.

Chekov had awoken feeling that, indeed, life might be worth living again. Some rest and a massive breakfast (he'd forgotten how really wonderful replicated food was) had given him a new lease on life, a sparkle in his eyes and glow on his cheeks. He was, however, wondering what Spock was thinking and if he could ever show the Vulcan his gratitude for giving him some peace.

The day passed in harmony and he even had lunch with Uhura and Sulu. Sulu seemed to have something on his mind.

"Pavel, will you have dinner with me tonight?" 'Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead,' Sulu thought.

"Oh, I cannot, Hikaru. I am dining with Spock later."

Sulu managed to hide his disappointment.

"Oh? When did he ask you?" Uhura asked. "He barely said two words all morning."

Chekov seemed to hesitate:

"He sent me a message this morning." Spock had actually left him a note.

Uhura's finely tuned antenna for intrigue began to vibrate. Why would Spock send a message to someone he would see on Bridge first thing in the morning? It was illogical. Why would he be circumspect? He and Chekov worked in the labs together and they often dined together. Uhura had herself heard Spock ask Chekov, in front of god and everybody, to dine with him prior to this. So what was this new thing between them? And, by the way, what's wrong Hikaru? He looks dead and he's hardly touched his lunch.

But she left it be and turned her attention to Chekov devouring his own lunch. It was the first time she'd seen him eat more than a few mouthfuls since he returned. 'Anything for you, Pavel,' she thought. If Spock and Chekov wanted to correspond as part of Chekov's recovery it was fine, wonderful. But, still, why would ....?

* * *

Spock and Chekov further added to speculation (Kirk and McCoy had them in mind, too, as Spock had declined their invitation to dine) by having dinner sent up to Spock's lab. Over dinner they discussed the current status of their experiments, statistical trends that were appearing the data, possible new models, methods, materials they would need from Starbase 25 if they could get them, etc. It was their usual all business dinner that would have bored anyone listening to death.

"You look less fatigued, Ensign." Spock stated after the dishes were cleared and they arranged themselves at Spock's desk.

"I am feeling better, sir, thank you."

Spock steepled his fingers and studied him. Chekov still looked worn out but he no longer looked as frazzled.

"We needn't continue, Chekov, if you would prefer to stop."

Chekov thought about this for a moment:

"Would you like to stop, sir?"

This was another human idiosyncrasy he'd learned to cope with:

"If you do, Ensign." He waited.

"I ... " Chekov hesitated. He was still jumpy and didn't like being touched but he wasn't sure these paltry problems were worth the science officer's time and energy.

The ensign nearly jumped out of his skin when Spock laid a warm hand on his arm. He looked into Spock's neutral gaze and felt reassured by it.

"I would like to continue, sir," he managed.

"Pull your chair around here. It will be the same as last night." And it was:

Spock initiated a light meld and cast his memory over the last image he had of Chekov's captivity. Chekov dutifully picked up the thread at the point where the Klingon woke and slathered slave on him.

Spock was impressed by Chekov's resourcefulness in his escape attempt and made a mental note about surveillance on Klingon ships. The subsequent beating and humiliation were not so pleasant. And further into that evening he watched Chekov's reaction to the Klingon's violent overtures with interest.../'You were the most beautiful'/...and compassion. Spock sensed fear in the memory for the first time. Again, Chekov ended spending the night beaten and chained over the Klingon's bed ... relieved he had not been raped .../'and the sight of your body'/ ... thinking about how much he hurt after three beatings ... escape ... 'you were the smallest'... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzz ..

Spock pulled back from the meld; Chekov was sound asleep again. This was fine; Spock was rather tired himself. He shut down the lab, picked up the ensign and proceeded to the turbolift.

He debated for a moment: 'Chekov's quarters or mine? Mine are warmer and he's asleep so won't notice where he is. Mine.'

Dr. McCoy was heading for his own quarters when he saw Spock emerge from the lift with Chekov. A quick perusal by his trained medical eye told him that Chekov was merely sleeping. He fell in step with the Vulcan.

"Amazing what a little sleep will do." He commented pleasantly.

Spock nodded.

They came to Spock's door. McCoy had somehow not wondered where Spock was bearing the ensign until then.

"Good evening, Doctor." Spock nodded and disappeared into his quarters with the sleeping Chekov.

McCoy stood there nonplussed for a full minute before he snapped out of it. He went to his own quarters where he sternly reminded himself that Mr. Spock was an officer and a gentleman. But, still ... how odd.

Spock laid Chekov on his bed and turned the heat down a little. He checked his messages and found nothing that required his immediate attention.

Spock dismissed the idea of undressing him; it was better if he slept uninterrupted for as long as possible. He pulled a light tunic his mother had given him long ago out of his closet and tossed it on the end of the bed. If Chekov woke he might want something more comfortable than his uniform to sleep in. He did, however, ease the ensign's boots off without waking him.

Spock sat cross-legged next to the sleeper and pulled his reader over. He called up several articles on human psychological trauma related to homosexual rape and read until he decided that if he didn't stop reading he would have nightmares himself.

He dozed but came awake as Chekov began to toss next to him. He moved softly into the meld.

*'Calm yourself. I only mean to amuse myself with your body for a time.' The Klingon u- barred the struggling ensign's wrists to the floor.

*Chekov twisted wildly and gasped as his captor's hand slid inside the waistband of his pants.*

*'Are you unaccustomed to a man's touch? Well, that's easily remedied.' He pulled the gold sash loose and his hand slipped lower to fondle his captive. His other arm snaked beneath Chekov's back to hold him more securely for the Klingon's leisurely explorations. He abruptly sat up and yanked the oversized pants off before Chekov could react.*

*'Ah, much better.' The Klingon murmured against Chekov's belly and moved lower.

*He breathed softly on the ensign's hardening penis, teasing it. He twined his tongue sensuously around it thrice before devouring it.*

*Chekov was trying with all his will not to respond but the Klingon was very skilled. He tried to damp down his ardor by looking down at his ravisher - the lights were still on - but the visual seemed to make it strangely more erotic. He tried to jerk free but the Klingon had him firmly pinned and was enjoying himself so much, he hardly noticed Chekov's struggles.*

*But perhaps he did. He lifted his head and looked up the length of his captive.*

*'Do you want me to stop, human?' He lowered his head menacingly.*

*'Yes.' Chekov felt relief.*

*'I rather think your body disagrees with you,' the Klingon lowered his head once more to the task.*

*'Stop. Stop. Stop.' Chekov began to twist against him.*

*The Klingon raised his head and sat up.*

*'I'll stop if you give me a kiss, human.' He said as he stretched out on top of the struggling ensign and propped himself up on his elbows. He lowered his lips half way to Chekov's.*

*'Do you swear on your Klingon honor?'* Chekov gave him a hard look.

*The Klingon gently stroked the sides of Chekov's face with his fingertips: 'You have it on my honor as a Klingon, my prize.' He leaned a trifle closer.*

*Chekov squeezed his eyes shut and leaned the short distance to the Klingon's lips.*

*...Somehow it didn't seem as awful as he was anticipating ... *

Chekov suddenly realized that he was, in fact, kissing someone and it was not a dream. He dragged himself up to awareness and looked straight into Spock's eyes which were incredibly close to him because he was, in fact, kissing him.

Chekov drew back, lowering his eyes.

"What interesting dreams you have, Mr. Chekov." Spock commented dryly.

Chekov looked up to see just a shimmer of amusement in the First Officer's eyes. He relaxed; if Spock was amused to have Chekov kiss him by mistake then everything was probably all right. He cleared his throat:

"Sir," he began but stopped and looked around him. Based on the temperature and the fact that this was not his bed, he logically concluded that it was Spock's bed. However, he hadn't a clue how he'd got there. He looked inquisitively back at Spock, who had not yet moved away.

"You fell asleep in the meld and I did not wish to wake you." He supplied softly, "And my quarters were closer and warmer than yours."

"I see," Chekov said in his best neutral, 'well-that- makes-perfect-sense-to-me-too' voice. "I suppose I should, ah, go now." He hoped he didn't sound ungrateful for Spock's considerate actions.

"If you wish or you may finish the night here," Spock sat up. "It's early yet and possible you might have more dreams that will interfere with your sleep. I did not stop the one you were just having because I found it fascinating."

"Oh, did you, sir?" Chekov queried, rather shocked.

"Yes, very much so. How long have you been having these dreams?"

"Since I was rescued, sir."

"Then this explains why you have been sleep deprived since your return."

"Oh, yes, I see." Chekov murmured.

Spock reached down to retrieve the tunic at the end of the bed.

"You may wear this if you are too warm." He held out the garment.

"Thank you, sir." Chekov looked around the cabin. Spock gestured helpfully and a rather puzzled Chekov headed into the bathroom with the silky tunic over his shoulder.

Once there he rinsed his face and looked at the garment. It was made of turquoise Esseriane cotilk, V-necked, sleeveless and cut short with muted silver embroidery at the neck, sleeves and hem. On Spock it would be mid-thigh; on Chekov it was to the knee and he had to pull the shoulders up to keep it on. Chekov smiled at the mirror; he couldn't imagine why Spock would have such a frivolous outfit. It looked outrageous on Chekov and he could not but assume it would look outrageous on Spock.

'I wonder if I will ever find out how it looks on him.' He mused and then mentally slapped himself for such a bizarre thought about the First Officer. 'I'm very tired; I must sleep.' And he trundled back to bed.

Spock glanced up from his reader and decided that turquoise was not as complimentary to Chekov as chestnut but not at all repulsive. He returned to his reading as Chekov settled himself in the unfamiliar bed.

Chekov rustled around trying to find a comfortable position. It was bigger and harder than his own bed. That, combined with the unfamiliar surroundings, his brief nap and odd awakening, made it difficult for the ensign to fall right back to sleep. He looked up at Spock, who was looking down at him.

"Are you always bound in these dreams?" Spock began in his usual direct fashion.

"Yes, sir, usually," he said quietly.

"Chekov, we are alone, you may simply call me Spock." Chekov nodded and Spock continued:

"I believe, these dreams are distressing to you. Why is that?"

'Obviously because I'm being raped by a huge Klingon' Chekov thought savagely but gave the question a moment of thought when he considered the source.

"Because I'm being raped by a huge Klingon," he answered finally. "And I do not wish to be," he added to be thorough.

"But you are aroused by it."

"That is the most terrible part. I am aroused by it against my will." Chekov felt his self-disgust rising. "It is an impossibly horrible situation."

"But these are only dreams, Chekov, and I am told that in human dreams and fantasy anything can happen." Spock said soothingly, moving closer.

Chekov looked slightly alarmed but calmed when he saw that Spock only wanted to meld again.

/only dreams of your captivity with the Klingon/

/not only dreams/

/show me/

Chekov thought back to the second morning with the Klingon. Being slathered with salve, the Klingon commenting that he had not expected him to be a virgin and how he would teach Chekov to serve his pleasure. Then Chekov waking at the end of the day to his captor reading the story of Tharine and Kio to him (Fascinating.) and forcing him (Convincing him with a very forceful threat.) to sleep in the bed with him.

Spock experienced Chekov waking in the Klingon's arms. He observed the ensign forming his plan and suffering with thirst and felt compassion for him. The plan and the thirst were terrible. (He would truly have let himself die with water merely feet away.) Watched the plan fail (This Klingon was no fool.) and became very interested in the Klingon's test ... 'I wish to see what truth your body will reveal...' (No fool indeed.) He felt the Klingon molesting the ensign, felt the human fight his own responses for as long and hard as possible and felt the self disgust and loathing when he failed.... '..will come to me of your own accord.' and Chekov's horror that, given enough time, that might be true.

Spock was pondering this beneath Chekov's notice as he watched the Klingon rise and dress for battle, Chekov and the other prisoners beamed aboard the USS Essex. He paid rather more attention to the interviews with Star Fleet Intelligence and felt his disapproval rising. (If you are sending a man into danger then he should know it. And further, if this had been an intelligently planned mission it might have succeeded. Instead it failed and is classified at Level Five so that the stupidity of the Intelligence branch was once again obscured.) He idly watched Chekov return the Enterprise and realized the human was shaking under his hands.

/what is it Chekov?/

/... I fought him as hard as I could../

/yes, exemplary behavior/

/but he defeated me.../

/he was considerably bigger/

/not with force.../

/... with sex?/

/... yes/

Spock gently broke the meld and brushed away Chekov's tears. Impulsively, he pulled Chekov into his arms and stroked his hair, comforting him as he'd comfort a frightened child.

"Chekov," he said softly, "I have lived closely with young human males for a number of years and have observed certain interesting characteristics that they mostly all share. Often their reaction to minimal sexual stimuli is out of proportion, in sum, they are aroused by almost nothing and are powerless against it. It is completely a physical reaction to stimulus and the mind cannot control it. The most they could do was ignore it when they are your age. I have not measured it exactly but have noticed that it does not seem pass until they are closer to 28."

He moved his fingers into the meld.

/it was your body that betrayed you to the Klingon, not your spirit, your mind could not control it and you had no control over your reaction or anything in that situation because he was holding you down/

/he was horrifying/

/it was dark/

/.../

/he was very shrewd and somehow knew where you were vulnerable/

/.../

Spock pulled back from the meld and looked at him.

"What troubles you, Chekov?"

"That I am now homosexual." Chekov murmured after a moment, blushing.

Spock thought he should talk to McCoy about that but unfortunately could not due to the Level Five on the incident. (He further thought that Chekov's blush was nicely set off by the turquoise tunic but did not have time to dwell on it, much.) He sighed mentally and stepped out onto the thin part of the ice.

"Why does that trouble you?"

"I have never had anything to do with another man until ... until... what happened happened," he said firmly. "And I want nothing to do with another one, ever."

"I see," Spock said quietly, "therefore you are not homosexual and need not be concerned." He watched the sleepy human mulling this over. "Perhaps more a more productive discussion of this will be had tomorrow evening." He paused to gauge Chekov's reaction, which was a suppressed yawn. "Go to sleep, Chekov, we can talk more tomorrow, if you wish."

Chekov was asleep almost at once on Spock's shoulder. Spock turned off his reader, dimmed the lights and dozed off himself.

* * *

By the time he seated himself next to Chekov, Sulu was fit to be tied. Kirk had not arrived and everyone else was completely engrossed in their work.

"Where did you sleep last night?" He murmured to the navigator.

"In my quarters, where else?," Chekov was a rotten liar and knew it.

"That's odd, I commed you late last night and even went by your quarters. There was no answer." More growl than murmur. He looked up to find Spock watching them.

"Your assistance please, Mr. Chekov." Spock said before Chekov could answer the helmsman.

Chekov blushed, rose and went to the science station where he looked at a row of eleven numbers relating to recently collected data and had to agree that, yes, they were indeed a row of eleven numbers relating to recently collected data.

Kirk arrived on the Bridge, Chekov returned to his station and the day began as usual.

* * *

"What the hell is bothering you, Hikaru?" Uhura demanded in the turbolift.

"Nothing."

"You snapped at Chekov and Kyle this morning and now you've snapped at me. Who's next? Spock? Kirk? And you look like you haven't slept in days." She took him by the shoulders and looked into his bloodshot eyes. "Tell me; I want to help."

"You can't." He walked out of the lift at the next stop, biosciences, which is the last place he wanted to be. It would, however, give him a quiet place to think for a moment.

He had not had much sleep because he'd commed Chekov's quarters every hour on the hour until 0500. This was not good and then to be lied to on top of everything. In his abstraction, he nearly collided with Dr. McCoy.

"Hullo, Sulu, you look tired, are you all right?" McCoy said pleasantly, looking him over critically.

"I'm fine."

"I see. Well, that's good. Chekov seems to be improving." McCoy watched Sulu clench his teeth. 'That's interesting,' he thought. "Eating better, looks better, must be sleeping better." The image of Spock carrying Chekov into his quarters scampered across his mind's eye.

Something similar dragged itself across Sulu's mental viewscreen as well but he pushed it away and pulled himself together.

"Doctor, I'm just going to lunch. Would you join me?" He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner.

"I'd be delighted, Sulu." And they managed to have a very pleasant lunch indeed.

* * *

Uhura was hot on the trail of something but she wasn't sure what. After Sulu ditched her she wound up lunching with Spock, Chekov and Kyle. She found herself talking to Kyle but watching Spock and Chekov. They seemed to be bracketed off in their own little world.

'Like lovers,' she thought, 'unlikely but not impossible.'

Uhura was wise enough to know that if you eliminate the possible, all you have left is the very highly improbable. And that love will find a way even when there isn't one. Or lust. Spock and Chekov. She couldn't quite conjure them up; maybe later.

"Yes, I am looking forward to a drink with you on Starbase 25, Mr. Kyle," she smiled.

Her very subtle observation had not gone unnoticed by Spock. He gave her a long look and was glad he'd grown up in a matriarchy that had imbued him with a healthy respect for perceptive women like Uhura. He glanced at Chekov, who was oblivious to everything but his lunch. Good, good, all very good.

Uhura looked over at Sulu seated with Kirk and McCoy. She remembered that Kirk had looked irritated earlier on the Bridge when he'd asked Spock to dine and play chess that evening and been refused due to a prior commitment. No one had asked Spock what prior commitment.

"Chekov," she purred, "dine with me tonight and we'll play Silastic backgammon afterward." She hated Silastic backgammon but Chekov adored it. She laid her hand on his but only Spock saw him flinch.

"Oh, Uhura, I cannot tonight. Some other time, I promise." He withdrew from her touch.

"Too bad for me. What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm working in the labs." Smoothly. Not even a second's hesitation.

Uhura looked into Spock's face. He looked back blandly. Mr. Kyle seemed rather interested, too. "All by yourself?" Never taking her eyes off the Vulcan.

"No, I'm running a new statistical program in Mr. Lindner's lab." True enough, however, Mr. Lindner was merely the science section's chief statistician and would not even be in his lab that evening. The program was on one of his projects with Spock and would only take five minutes from the gitgo to the gotdone but the ensign didn't mention it.

"Ah." Uhura smiled at him, "I'll just have to find someone else to play with tonight." They rose to return to the Bridge.

In the turbolift, in a gesture of reconciliation, she leaned over and asked Sulu what he was doing that evening.

"Fencing with the Captain."

"Ah." Uhura smiled at him, "I'll just have to find someone else to play with tonight." They resumed their stations, except Kirk who was talking to McCoy in Sickbay. Spock wisely gave Uhura a wide berth the rest of the shift.

* * *

"I'm happy to have Chekov back to normal but I would like to dine and play chess with my First Officer again. Someday." Kirk was in a snit. He only displayed his snits to his CMO and First Officer. Since he was in a snit about his First Officer, McCoy was getting the full brunt of this one.

McCoy offered him a sympathetic look but not a drink; it was too early. He leapt back from his own conclusions about why Spock no longer had free evenings, at least until he could compare notes with Uhura. She, o' clever woman, might also know what was eating Sulu.

"Chekov is better but I doubt completely back to normal, Captain."

Kirk threw him an irritated glance at the 'captain' part. It was McCoy's signal that he wasn't going to give him as much sympathy as he wanted.

"And," the doctor continued sternly, "it strikes me as rather small to be jealous of Chekov because Spock is busier than usual."

"I AM NOT JEALOUS OF CHEKOV. THAT'S ABSURD."

"That's how it sounds to me, sir."

"Ridiculous!" Kirk spun on his heel and headed for the door.

"Don't kill yourself with Sulu tonight, you're a little out of shape." McCoy drawled to his back. 'Too much sedentary chess with Spock when you should be working out.' He added to himself.

Christine Chapel sauntered out of the lab area and gave him a cool look.

"Y'all hear that, Christine?"

"'Fraid so, Doctor."

"And?"

"I, too, think it's absurd for Kirk to be jealous of Chekov."

McCoy started to laugh. She continued:

"I have great faith in Spock's judgement ... "

"Hmmmm!"

"Hmmmm!, yourself. Spock and Chekov have always spent a lot of time together and I don't know why it's an issue now. Chekov is one of the few people that can stand Spock for long stretches."

"Well, that's true; weird but true. Whaddaya mean it's an issue now?"

"There's gossip."

"Hot gossip? Give, Christine; don't start holdin' out on me now, girl."

"Well..." she gave him a stern look, "one of the lab techs saw Spock carrying Chekov out of his lab last night and thought it was rather odd."

McCoy's heart sank; this must be all over the ship by now. McCoy was thankful only he'd seen Spock's final destination.

"Well..." he said, "you know Chekov hasn't been sleeping very well these days ..."

"Yes, I know. But why not wake him up and let him walk? It's not logical, is it?"

"You'd hafta ask Spock about that, Nurse." McCoy was ready for the end of this conversation.

"Perhaps I will, Doctor." She returned dryly.

'Touche, ma belle,' McCoy thought, but said: "This doesn't bother you, Chris?"

"No. Why should it?"

'Because you're mad about Spock, you reckless blonde woman' McCoy thought but instead drawled:

"Well, I know you're very fond of" he paused microscopically to see if she'd flinch; she did not, "Chekov. He spends so much time down here, I'm rather fond of him myself. And he's so young. I don't suppose you'd want Chekov's reputation besmirched with petty gossip about him and Spock?"

"I'm sure his reputation will survive this." 'He and it are practically indestructible' she added to herself.

"And you're not worried about him with Spock?"

"Doctor," she gave him a frank look, "I can't imagine any safer place in the galaxy for Mr. Chekov than with Mr. Spock." She did not feel it necessary to add that she might not feel the same way if Spock were paying so much attention to another female. She could not take Chekov seriously as a threat to Spock's celibacy. "You may put your mind at ease if that's what you're worried about."

"Oh, me? I wasn't worrin' about that. I haven't a care in the world." He turned to go into his office where he could worry about it in private.

"Well, that's good." Chapel smiled at his retreating form.

* * *

Nurse Chapel's serenity was, however, shattered when Spock stopped by Sickbay to ask her for a bottle of massage oil. Nonplussed, she was unable to even ask him why he wanted it as she mutely handed it to him.

Except for telling McCoy and Uhura, she kept this to herself.

* * *

Mr. Scott hated all forms of exercise except hiking and boxing. So he was pleased to accept Mr. Kyle's invitation to spar that evening.

They had been in the ring sometime when Sulu finally joined Kirk.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Captain, I, ah, ran into Mr. Chekov." Lowering his fencing mask.

"Humph. En garde." Kirk was glad his mask was already down when Sulu mentioned Chekov.

Sulu had more than run into Chekov. Chekov had sought him out in his quarters.

Foil and mask in hand, wearing his fencing gear, Sulu had cursed when his door chimed at him.

"Come." He went to stand in front of it to discourage anyone from lingering.

Chekov merely stepped around him and into the room.

"Hikaru, are you angry with me?" He looked up at Sulu with those eyes.

It was too much for the helmsman. He stood close to Chekov and took his hand. Damn the torpedoes ...

"Not angry, Pavel, not really." He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Chekov's lips.

Chekov had not, for a wonder, flinched away from his friend and was now too stunned to move. Sulu gave thanks and moved in again for a deeper kiss. Unfortunately, at just that moment his comm line piped at him.

"Mister Sulu. You. Are. Late." It was a testy Kirk.

"Sorry, sir, I'm on my way." He turned back to Chekov, who had moved to the door.

"I will not keep you, Mr. Sulu." He said quietly, exiting.

Sulu caught up with him in the corridor. "Pavel, let's talk later, please." He silently cursed his rotten timing.

"I'm afraid I will be busy later, sir." Politely, eyes lowered. They proceeded toward the turbolift.

"I see," Sulu put on his Lieutenant-to-Ensign voice, "I would not want to inconvenience you, Mr. Chekov." He stepped into the lift and held the doors open.

Chekov nodded. "Excuse me, sir" and walked away. Sulu fumed the rest of the way to the gym.

And now, here he was, fencing with his Captain. Sulu was technically a better fencer than Kirk but his irritation made him erratic.

Kirk's irritation made him inspired and he kept Sulu on the defensive longer than ever before. He landed a decisive blow and they separated.

"We're not seeing much of Mr. Chekov away from the Bridge lately," Kirk ventured rather breathlessly, watching Sulu through his mask.

"No, sir. Nor Mr. Spock. En GARDE."

Their match was so fierce most of the gym, including Mr. Scott and Mr. Kyle, stopped to watch them.

Sulu pinned Kirk to the wall and landed a decisive blow to the lung area. They separated.

"I think we are all pleased to have Mr. Chekov back on board, sir." Sulu panted, moving into position.

"Yes. Of course. EN GARDE."

Mr. Scott was glad they were wearing protective gear because otherwise one of them would have been dead or maimed by now.

* * *

"So," McCoy eyed Uhura over a glass of wine, "any news?"

She smiled serenely. Catching sight of Christine Chapel entering the deserted lounge they both waved her over.

Chapel, looking pale, gratefully accepted the proffered glass of wine and leaned forward:

"Spock was by Sickbay this afternoon..."

* * *

They broke apart, panting, sweat streaming down their sides and dry mouthed.

Kirk shipped his foil and suggested they go have a light supper since they'd, wisely, forgone dinner. This was very agreeable to Sulu.

* * *

Mr. Kyle leaned over his single malt scotch in Scott's quarters and began:

"Today, at lunch, there was a most interesting conversation at my table ... "

* * *

Chekov ran his statistical program during dinner in Spock's lab. It took less time than the entree.

Under his own steam, for a change, he made his way to Spock's quarters with the silent First Officer.

It was a comfortable silence and Spock was enjoying it immensely. He sensed that something new was troubling the ensign but would wait to find out its exact nature.

He was contemplating his plans for the evening. He had, after some research and deliberation, decided that body massage would be the most effective way for Chekov to overcome his fear of being touched.

While Spock himself was not fond of being touched, he was not adverse to touching others as long as he remained in control of the situation. Remaining in control of the situation was the key to successful physical interaction with humans. Little did he know that this was a very commonly held delusion in the galaxy.

The predatory side of Spock's nature was unknown to his shipmates, known only to a few in his family and had been carefully channeled into discipline and drive by his mother. It had kept him at the top of his classes in school on Vulcan, at the Academy and occasionally served him well in space. Spock himself seldom consciously acknowledged it except when he found himself needing to put it on a leash. He had had a moment of, well, pleasure at the thought of massaging Chekov but he thoroughly suppressed it for the greater good.

Chekov could still feel Sulu's lips on his. Whatever else happened to him at least he no longer felt the Klingon's lips there and that was some comfort. He'd somehow forgotten kissing Spock. He was sorry he had run away from the helmsman, it was rude, unforgivable and he would apologize first thing in the morning. He hoped he would be forgiven; he was fond of Sulu.

Inside Spock's quarters Chekov curiously surveyed the blanket and pillows on the floor of the usually neat room. He looked up at Spock, looking at him.

"Undress and lay on the blanket, face down, please." Delivered in the science officers' usual blunt manner.

"Sir!" Chekov was nonplussed for the second time that evening.

"You may call me Spock when we are alone, Chekov. Undress."

"I ... " blushing madly.

Spock was intrigued: "Chekov?"

"Ahm, you may call me Pavel if you would like," he managed to suppress the 'sir' at the end.

"Fine. Now, undress and lay down. Pavel."

"I, ah, really don't think .."

"Think what?" Spock prompted after a moment.

"Well, I don't know you very well, 'tho we have spent two nights together..."

Spock raised his eyebrows encouragingly.

"And, as I have said," Chekov swallowed, "about men, that I don't .. don't like them ..."

Chekov was unable or unwilling to continue. Spock thought about this for a moment.

"Pavel, do you think I want to have sex with you?"

Chekov blushed even harder.

"Yes." He lowered his eyes.

"I do not; I just want to give you a massage to help you overcome your fear of being touched."

Chekov looked up sharply.

"Oh?"

Spock nodded. 'Humans; patience. Chekov; more patience,' he was thinking. He sighed mentally and gentled his voice:

"I believe the effect will be stronger if you are not wearing clothing and are lying relaxed in a prone position. Pavel. Face down, please."

"Oh, I see." Chekov complied with alacrity and lay down.

Spock threw a sheet over him for modesty and pulled off his own boots and tunic. He rolled up his T-shirt sleeves and knelt next to the ensign. He warmed some oil in his hand and looked down at Chekov, looking trustingly up at him. He gently spread the warm oil over Chekov's shoulders and felt him freeze up in fear.

"It's all right, Pavel. It's all right." Spock soothed him.

Chekov gradually relaxed, responding more to the sound of the deep voice than to the words.

Spock was gentler than he let most people see but he responded to Chekov's trust with trust of his own. He let his hands convey what his words could not. He relaxed into the comfortable camaraderie he sensed in the room. He worked out the knots in the tops of Chekov's shoulders and moved to the scapula. He eased the tension there, working under each blade and across the spine to the other.

He found himself enjoying the feel, smell and sight of Pavel a little too much and reined himself in.

He focused on the task at hand and ran his fingertips along the sides of Chekov's spine, firmly massaging each separate vertebrae. He found lots of tension in the lower back and wondered how the ensign could sleep at all in this condition.

He pressed his thumbs into the tops of the human glutes and watched the ensign rise up in panic. Spock smoothed his hands over his back and made soothing noises.

"Shhh, Pavel, it's all right. You're safe here, it's all right," and so on.

Chekov relaxed back down but was still troubled: he was starting to respond to Spock's touch in an embarrassingly inappropriate way.

Spock worked the tension out of the human's glutes ('lovely' he mused silently) but did not linger for fear of disturbing Chekov further. He covered them and moved on to the ensign's legs. He traced the Achilles tendon and worked the knots out of the large muscle groups.

'He needs more exercise than he's getting.' Spock found his fingers lingering on the soft skin of the human's inner thigh. He stopped and abruptly moved down to the human feet ('and very nice feet they are'). He carefully rotated the ankles and gently dug his fingers into the soles. He softly massaged between the tendons on the instep and gently pulled and rotated each toe. He paid special attention to the pressure points in the arch until he realized he was becoming obsessed with Pavel's delicate little white feet and put them down.

"All right, Pavel, turn over, please."

The human hesitated.

"Pavel?"

"I cannot turn over."

"Why not?"

"Personal reasons."

Spock thought about this, inhaled more deeply through his nose, scenting Pavel's arousal. 'Ah ha,' he thought.

"This is exactly the point I was trying to make last night ('in bed'), Pavel."

"I beg your pardon..?"

"About your age and being aroused by nothing." Spock stated flatly, "I assure you, Pavel, you have nothing to be ashamed of because this massage has given you an erection. You are merely responding to physical stimuli; it is very nearly an unavoidable result at your age. And," he continued dryly, "since we've no intention of seducing each other because neither of us is homosexual, I do not understand your trepidation."

"Well, in that case..." Carefully shielding himself, Chekov quickly rolled over and bunched the sheet at his loins.

Spock savagely suppressed a sudden urge to rip the sheet off and fling himself onto the prone human. He looked into Chekov's trusting face and mastered himself immediately.

Part of him wondered ruefully if this was still such a great idea while the other part rhythmically chanted 'I am in control, I am in control' etc. He focused on his hands and on the muscles just beneath Pavel's collarbones.

Chekov relaxed. He was enjoying himself. He was enjoying himself too much but he decided not to worry about it. He was so grateful and so amazed that he could enjoy being touched again, feel safe half naked again, and not equate arousal with shame that he would have done anything for Spock. Anything at all.

Spock was massaging the muscle groups around the rotor cuff in the front of the shoulder sockets. This is a fragile place in humans, they are forever tearing the cartilage a little at a time, so he was extra gentle. He also remembered that Chekov had hung from his wrists and been bound in damaging ways during his captivity.

"Do your shoulders hurt, Pavel?"

"Not as much as before. The doctor on the Essex used a thermal cartilage regenerator on me."

"I am pleased to hear that." Spock murmured abstractedly, massaging down the arms to Chekov's poor hands.

They were still healing from his struggles with the Klingon. Some of his nails had broken past the quick as he clawed at his captor. He was no longer in pain but there was still evidence of it. Spock carefully massaged the regenerated skin on his knuckles where he had scraped them in his escape attempt.

Spock had a deep aversion to hand injuries, his own and others, so he was especially attentive to Chekov's. He gently probed the pressure points in the flesh of the palms, he pulled and rotated each finger and thumb, he softly explored the channel between the tendons on the back of Chekov's hands until he began to feel an inappropriate reaction in himself and put them down, gently but firmly.

Taking care to expose as little of the human as possible, Spock worked the muscle groups around each hip socket. He then proceeded down the tops of each thigh, lightening his touch when he discovered Chekov was ticklish. He seemed not to be very tense there so Spock moved onto his calves, which were also not very tense.

"I believe we are done, Pavel," 'alas' he added to himself, rising and giving the human a hand up. "I recommend you shower," he commented dryly, handing Chekov the turquoise tunic.

Chekov was pleased to be spending the night here. He was far too relaxed to drag himself all the way back to his own quarters. He showered quickly and slipped into the big hard bed.

Spock had decided to actually get some sleep that night. To that end, he showered and put on a pair of black linen pajamas, another gift from his mother.

Chekov watched with drowsy interest Spock lock the door, dim the lights and slip into bed next to him.

"Are you awake, Pavel?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"Then slide over here."

Chekov gladly slid closer. Spock rolled him over and spooned up behind him. The human tensed imperceptibly; nevertheless, the Vulcan felt it.

"It's all right, Pavel, I know." Spock whispered, holding him close and safe. "But you must try to disassociate sleeping like this from your experience. Beings have been sleeping like this for eons. It is nearly part of the genetic code."

Pavel was asleep before Spock had finished and Spock, exhausted, was right behind him.

* * *

There were no disturbing dreams that night and both appeared fresh and rested on the Bridge the next morning.

Not everyone else there could say the same.

Kirk had awoken with stiff muscles due to his life and death fencing session with Sulu the previous evening.

Sulu had spent only half the night comming Chekov's quarters. The other half he spent fighting with Uhura.

"You're jealous of Spock, aren't you?" She was standing in his quarters when he came out of the shower.

"Nonsense!" He wrapped his towel a little more firmly around himself. "How did you get in here? I thought I locked the door."

"Override." She sat. "So what's going on here?"

"Nothing, Nyota, go away." He wearily pulled on a robe.

"HA!" She watched Sulu jump with some satisfaction but was even more pleased when he sat down and offered her a nightcap.

"Now, look, Hikaru, here's my theory. You tell me when I go wrong." She drew a breath. "You and Pavel have worked and lived closely for many months. You fell in love with him... no, wait, it gets better ... but you didn't know it. I saw it three or so months ago when you lost about 65% of your interest in women, but I never thought you'd tumble to it. Anyway, you didn't until he disappeared in the blockade run and you thought you might never see him again. And then when you did, he was not the same Chekov. Until Spock carried him off."

Sulu winced, wondering how Uhura could use such an accurate metaphor. She continued:

"And made him better. And made him estranged from you." She added quietly and settled down to wait for an answer.

Sulu looked up sheepishly: "OK, Madam She-who-sees-all, you're right on the money this time." He sighed, "What you don't know is that I made it even worse tonight."

"How?"

"Pavel came here to ask me if I was angry with him."

"And?"

"And I said no, I wasn't."

"And?"

"And I kissed him."

"AND?"

"And Captain Kirk paged me from the gym where I was supposed to already be. Pavel ran away from me and that was that."

"And right to Spock, I bet."

"I'll probably be hauled up on sexual harassment charges first thing tomorrow."

"Humph. Not if Spock's the only one he tells, you won't."

Sulu sighed, not wanting to hear the why but asking anyway.

"Because they're having an affair."

Sulu flung his head back in angst:

"Uhura! That makes the cat laugh! Are you insane? We're talking about Spock and Chekov. With Pavel's libido averaged out between the two of them, they might end up with a normal heterosexual sex drive each but you can't tell me they'd ... "

She gave him a long look.

"Can you?"

And so on and so forth until he'd finally begged her to leave so he could sleep. Which is what he did, sporadically.

Uhura was too annoyed to sleep much herself but she was holding up quite well under the strain. Although previously she would not have thought it possible, she was beginning to wonder if Spock might be taking advange of Pavel in the ensign's diminished state.

After hearing every shred of Spock-Chekov gossip Mr. Kyle had, Scotty had slept the sleep of the just and those who do not begrudge or pass judgement on the innocent pleasure of others.

Kirk, on the other hand, had spent the majority of last night contemplating the impossible fact the he, Captain of the Enterprise, might just be in love with his First Officer.

'Bad, very bad.' he thought darkly.

And that Sulu might be in love with Chekov.

'Worse, even worse.' He knew he could control himself but was not so sure if he could control his helmsman.

And most awful was that he might just have to leave Chekov at Starbase 25 for these tawdry reasons.

'Come, now,' he reasoned, 'we're all reasonable people on this ship.'

He might have liked to discuss this with Bones, but, then again, probably not. One can only be told they are jealous and therefore ridiculous so many times per day.

'I've the best crew in the Fleet.' He reminded himself in the turbolift. 'We're all adults; we can work this out among ourselves.'

His certainty wobbled slightly as he walked into the palpable tension on the Bridge.

Chekov had taken one look at Sulu and his apology had died on his lips. He'd try later; after lunch.

Spock's good morning to Uhura received a frosty look and so cool a 'morning' that he could not but notice the temperature drop.

'MASSAGE OIL' she was thinking as loud as she could.

Sulu didn't even look up from his station. Unusual.

Mr. Scott had found reasons to spend the day in Engineering with Mr. Kyle.

Kirk settled himself painfully into his command chair and regarded the stiff postures around him. He decided to take the bull by the horns. He cleared his throat; everyone looked at him.

He heard the turbolift doors open behind him; everyone looked at them. He painfully turned his head to look at Dr. McCoy, now standing next to him.

McCoy looked blandly around him and then at Kirk and smiled come hither:

"Come," he drawled, "to Sickbay with me, please."

"I've a ship to run, Bones, do you need me?"

"Well, I always need you but now I really need you."

"Oh, well then. Mr. Spock, you have the con." He rose slowly, watching the doctor watching him, and was half glad to postpone the showdown. He was half worried about leaving them on their own but had every faith in Spock's command abilities. He followed McCoy into the turbolift and both were silent until they reached McCoy's office.

"What's on your mind, Bones?"

"Everybody except Spock and Chekov."

Kirk groaned.

"Want some painkiller? I hear you and Sulu tried to kill each other last night."

"Gossip on this ship has gone into warp."

"All ships are like that."

"Let's talk about this one. Let's talk about why Spock and Chekov have no free nights anymore."

"We did ask Spock to do something."

"Having an affair with my navigator is not what I had in mind, Doctor."

"You've been listening to gossip, Jim. Oh, shocking."

"No. I'm drawing the obvious conclusion. And while we're on the subject, the fact that there is so much gossip about this that even I'm hearing it is bad, very bad, very shocking."

"Oh, I agree with you. But I don't think they're having an affair. Spock is being too brazen and natural for anything indiscreet to be going on."

"Explain, please."

McCoy briefly outlined the events of the last two days. Mentioned how glad everyone was at Chekov's improved health. Mentioned seeing Spock carry Chekov into his quarters, Uhura's observations, the massage oil...

Kirk's eyes narrowed dangerously at that last and he savagely punched the comm line.

"MR. SPOCK COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW."

They heard a shipwide page for Scott to come to the Bridge.

'Probably wise leave Scotty the con,' they both were thinking. Angry as he was, Kirk still felt somewhat protective of Chekov even though Chekov had transferred most of his adoration from him to Spock.

The object of that adoration marched in just then and came to parade rest before his Captain and the CMO.

"Sir." He inclined his sleek head.

Kirk inhaled and then exhaled.

"Mr. Spock, do you realize that this entire ship, except Dr. McCoy, thinks you are sleeping with Mr. Chekov?"

"I am sleeping with Mr. Chekov."

The human jaws hit the deck and Spock continued:

"However, if you mean that as a metaphor for having sex with Mr. Chekov then I assure you, that is not happening." Spock was good but not wonderful with metaphors.

"See." McCoy interjected, "I told you. The problem is with the rest of the crew." He was rewarded with a scowl.

"What, Mr. Spock, do you mean 'you are sleeping with Mr. Chekov'?" Kirk was very controlled and he pushed the image of Chekov sleeping in Spock's arms firmly down. Or tried to very much.

"Just that, sir. Mr. Chekov's sleep was plagued by nightmares that required interpretation and comfort. That these occurred at night, in bed, required that I be near when they did. This was the sort of aid and solace you and Dr. McCoy asked me to render the ensign, was it not?"

"And I would call it an unqualified success, Spock, bravo" the doctor enthused. "Now we just have to get the crew to understand it."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Did you find out what happened to him?" Kirk asked.

"Yes."

"I know, you can't tell me. But can you tell me if, whatever happened, is cause enough for you to spend your nights making sure Chekov doesn't have bad dreams? Is this really necessary? Because the gossip might do more damage than the Klingons."

"With all due respect, sir, I doubt that." Spock paused to choose his next words with care. "I believe my continued vigilance of Mr. Chekov's sleep is necessary."

Kirk eyed his First Officer for a moment longer.

"All right, Spock, but be discreet. I understand it now but others might not."

Spock nodded; Kirk continued:

"By the way, why did you need massage oil?"

"I gave Chekov a massage."

"YOU WHAT?"

"I gave .."

"I understood the words, Spock, but not the why."

"I gave Mr. Chekov a massage in hopes of helping him to overcome his fear of being touched. A fear he developed in his captivity."

Kirk thought about this. McCoy, however, jumped right in:

"It's perfectly brilliant, Spock! Bravo, again. You ought hang out a shingle."

"Do what, doctor?"

"Nothing. You're a natural psychotherapist; why, I'm ashamed to be in your presence."

Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I'm going back to the Bridge. Come with me, Spock."

They murmured 'doctor' at McCoy and left him happy as if he had good sense.

In the turbolift, Kirk gave Spock a hard look.

"No sex with Chekov, Spock, whatever you consider sex to be. I'll keelhaul you because you know better than that. I will never remind you again that he's in your chain of command."

"Yes, sir."

They stepped onto a calmer Bridge than they had left. Mr. Scott's steady sober presence had given them all room to see how silly they were behaving. Spock even got sheepish smiles from Sulu and Uhura.

And the day went by like most other days.

* * *

Several dream free, well massaged evenings later Chekov sat in Uhura's quarters playing Silastic backgammon and losing gracefully.

He felt good; he looked good. He hadn't flinched when Uhura had thrown her arms around him:

"This is what I wanted to do the minute you got back." She gave him a kiss on both cheeks. "Welcome home, Pavel."

He did feel like he was home again. Even Sulu was back to normal, well, almost, he seemed to be keeping his distance.

They finished the game and Chekov looked seriously at his hostess.

"Nyota."

She looked up.

"Nyota. I .. " he cleared his throat. "I think Hikaru is in love with me and I don't know what to do."

She smiled; she'd been hoping for this conversation.

"Pavel, I know Hikaru is in love with you and has been for a long time and I know exactly what you should do."

"What?"

"Go, now, and talk to him about it."

Chekov thought about this for a moment and then rose.

"Good night, Nyota."

"I certainly hope so, Pavel."

* * *

Spock was losing his chess game with Kirk and all was right with the universe again.

He was contemplating the future: sleeping alone tonight as Mr. Chekov was much improved. And the past: last night with Pavel. Their last night.

Spock's massage therapy was working wonders; Chekov was no longer afraid to be touched. He was also no longer aroused by it. They slipped into the wide bed together, Spock murmured:

"I believe you no longer need me, Chekov."

Chekov smiled at up at him.

"I will always need you, Spock, but I believe I can sleep alone after tonight."

They lay together in silence, both thinking 'I will miss this' but both knowing an ending when they saw one. Yet neither dropped off to sleep, they lay listening to the quiet and the hum of the engines under it.

"Spock," Chekov whispered, screwing up his courage, "Since we are not homosexual and not attracted to each other and so there is no danger of being misunderstood ... may I kiss you good night?"

Spock's first reaction had been to say 'no, go to sleep' but he did not. He was, at that moment, very sensitive to the ensign's desire for closer contact. Almost as sensitive as he was to his own desire for closer contact. And this was, after all, the last night, so, well, why not indulge Pavel's perfectly innocent little whim? So he said yes and held very still.

Pavel moved gently forward and pressed his lips to Spock's. He laid his hand on Spock's face as he did so. He had a theory to test: that Spock would break the kiss first. He was wrong.

Spock was fine for the first ten microseconds until his long suppressed senses kicked in. He deepened the kiss, hoping Pavel would pull away. He did not. Spock tightened his arms around him and gentled the Russian's lips apart. Pavel snuggled closer.

It occured to Spock that he was disobeying a direct order but he saw it as necessary. He had considered Kirk's reaction to his recent interaction with Chekov odd. He had then become curious as to what Kirk might be upset about. Based on his recent observations, Spock could only conclude that Kirk was attracted to him. He had also, through his close contact with Chekov, realized that he was more attracted to Kirk than he had previously allowed himself to notice. He therefore decided this night would be research for the future. If he enjoyed this with Chekov, he would most likely also enjoy it with Kirk.

Spock then wondered what Chekov was thinking. He pulled back for oxygen and to ask:

"Pavel, are you sure ...?"

"Yes." And pressed his lips to the Vulcan's again.

Reassured, Spock surrendered to his senses. He rolled onto his back, Pavel on top of him, and pulled the turquoise tunic up and off.

Pavel straddled the Vulcan and swiftly undid the buttons of his pajama jacket. He rubbed his smooth chest against Spock's furry one and kissed him deeply. He was already hard and was feeling Spock hardening under his ass. He squirmed provocatively and reached between them to free Spock's erection. He rubbed them together, watching with satisfaction Spock twisting with pleasure. Chekov wanted this, wanted to feel pleasured abandon with his healer. He wanted to know what this was like with a man he was attracted to.

Spock was ready to be seduced, he'd been in control of himself long enough. He found his senses full of Pavel, his smell, the texture of his skin, the sight of the radiant human above him, the sound of his little sighs and moans of pleasure. It was incredible beyond his wildest expectations and he never wanted this moment to end. He wanted to sear it into his consciousness forever. He rolled Pavel onto his back and leaned down to kiss him, his eyes, cheeks, neck, ears, shoulders. He was intoxicated by the cool salty taste of the human. He moved softly on top of the ensign, pressing their erections together against the human's cool silky belly.

But it was not enough. Spock moved his hands into meld position and gently slipped into Pavel's unshielded mind.

/Pavel/

/Da Da Da/

Spock felt their pleasure doubling and redoubling between them as their thrusts became erratic and they flung themselves into their climax.

And Spock knew, but he stayed in the meld a moment longer, just as he lay on top of Pavel a moment longer, simply for the pleasure of it. But he knew what he'd seen in the meld was true, that there was only attraction, gratitude, lust, curiosity, respect and perhaps a little affection but not love and nothing that would ever become love between them.

In truth, he was relieved. He was fond of the little human and would have liked to have kept him as a pet but, of course, that was impossible. It was better this way, even if Chekov could convince himself he was in love with Spock, Spock knew the human's passion would have burned them both eventually. They both knew it.

It was better this way, they thought as they curled up to sleep skin on skin for the first and last time. So Spock was thinking as he was checkmated by his Captain and wondered quietly what James T. Kirk was like in bed.

"What are you thinking about, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked provocatively.

"The improbable but not impossible, Jim."

* * *

Chekov made his way to Sulu's quarters where there was no answer.

'My life - it's an acid bath.' He sighed and turned to go.

"Looking for me, Mr. Chekov?" Sulu came striding down the hall in his fencing gear.

"Yes, sir." He hoped Sulu did not see his heart leap into his throat and flop around there.

"Please come in," Sulu racked his foil and hung his mask on the wall above it. "What's on your mind?" He turned to find Chekov quite close to him.

"Hikaru, are you angry with me?" He asked, looking up at him with those eyes.

"We have had this conversation before, Pavel."

"Can we please have it again?" He put his arms around Sulu's neck.

"Of course." Sulu pulled him close and kissed his long sought after darling Chekov for a long, long time.

The Enterprise and its gallant crew flew through the silent stars and into their future.

End