Title: That Touch Of Khan
Author: J. Juls (jjuls @ tbc.net)
Series: TOS
Rating: NC-17, plus R for ridiculous and PG for pretty goofy
Warning: McCoy gets slapped around some, nothing he didn't ask for
Codes: a-u, bdsm, Mc/Khan, (K/Mc impl, Su/?(f) impl)

Summary: Star Trek II works out a bit differently this time.

Disclaimer: Paramount -- I task them. I task them, and they will have me. They'll chase me 'round the moons of Nibea and 'round the Antares maelstrom and 'round perdition's flames before they give me up. For they own Star Trek and all Star Trek stuff.

Note: Written for the Khanfest


by J. Juls

"Captain's Log Stardate 8130.0.

I have educated my trainee crew on how to be prepared for the admiral's inspection today and have no doubt that they will indeed pass, 'with flying colors,' as the humans say. I do doubt, however, the wisdom of taking on an ambassador from a new Federation member planet. The ambassador is to tour our ship and will certainly cause distraction among my young crewmembers."

Leonard McCoy listened to the captain dictating his log. Not much different from any other day's, really. Spock was a fine captain -- and the crew wasn't bad, either. It was a mystery why Starfleet would waste them all this way, ferrying cadets on little trips through the solar system. He supposed it was important, though -- good training for the future, blah blah blah -- but it was boring nevertheless. Still, he reflected, boring could be nice.

"Mr. Saavik, you have the conn." Spock rose. "Come with me, Doctor. It is time for us to greet the ambassador."

They entered the turbolift. Len couldn't resist pulling Spock's chain, just a little. After all, it made him all green and cute when he was mad. "So ... I hear the ambassador's quite a looker, Spock."

Spock stood just a little bit straighter. "I wouldn't know."

"Sixteen years old. Some kinda royalty on her planet, I guess."

This time his eyebrow twitched, and he did get a shade greener. "Apparently. As ambassadors often are, on planets ruled by a monarchy."

"Tall, good-looking. They say. I've heard rumors their species can read minds, too. Maybe your type, huh?"

Spock was even greener now. "Whether she is my 'type' or not, Doctor, is irrelevant to the mission at hand. And, may I add, none of your business. You are only to make sure that she remains in good health for the duration of her stay here."

"Yes, Captain," he said unctiously.

They soon arrived at the transporter room.

"The ambassador signals ready, sir," said Ensign Smip.

"Energize." As the figure coalesced on the platform, Leonard could hear a sharp voice.

" ... and I don't know why I didn't rate a shuttle like that admiral of yours. Why I should have to 'beam' up in such an undistinguished manner is a mystery to ... Hello!"

A woman, barely more than a girl, stood on the pad. Long, dark hair cascaded down her back; her eyes were equally as dark. She wore a garish dress, made of some purple satinlike material with plenty of sequins, and loud jewelry which included a gaudy tiara. She was accompanied by several suitcases and a tall servant in a plain grey cloak. She checked out everyone's rank insignia before striding toward Spock, barely managing not to trip and fall off the platform. "Greetings, Captain Spock, on behalf of our planet. I am Daughter Of the Fifth House, Holder Of the Sacred Chalice Of Riix, Heir To the Holy Rings Of Betazed, Lwaxana Xal." Demurely she held out her hand to be kissed. She pulled it back suddenly, though, as if remembering. "Oh, yes, I forgot. You stodgy Vulcans wouldn't want to kiss a lady's hand." Her eyes turned to Leonard, as the next-highest in rank. "But I bet you would, dear." She held out her hand.

"May I present Ship's Surgeon, Doctor McCoy."

As Len kissed her with all the Southern chivalry he could muster, his mind was fixed on one thing: that, except for her darker coloring and her atrocious taste in clothing, she could be Chris Chapel's daughter. Yet she was from a different planet. Amazing how things worked out! "Charmed, I'm sure, Madam Ambassador."

Spock interrupted, not that Len was upset about it. "Ensign Smip will show you to your quarters now, Madam." After giving Len a wink, she withdrew her hand and faced the Captain. "Oh, I'd much rather have him show me. She indicated Leonard. "And ... " she affected a coy look. " ... I'd be delighted to give you the honor of carrying some of my luggage, Captain. Mr. Xelo! Attend me!" The servant picked up the two smaller suitcases, leaving the rest for Spock. Len saw a twitch of annoyance, a twitch that only he would be able to pick out, on the captain's cool face as he hefted the other two suitcases. Good thing Spock was a Vulcan. "Don't hurt yourself, Captain," he teased. Then, offering the ambassador his arm, he led the party out of the transporter room and to the guest quarters.


Len sat in the mess hall that afternoon with Jim. The training cruise was going along just fine. Sulu had pointed them toward the Ceti Alpha sector, an unexplored region; and he was still up on the bridge. "Poor Sulu," he sighed. "He never gets any fun."

"What makes you say that, Bones?"

"Face it, Jim. His idea of a good time is steering this dadblamed tub all over the galaxy. There has to be more to life than that!"

"I suppose you'd like to ... show him." Jim winked.

Len was a bit embarrassed, but what the hell? "Is it that obvious, Jim?" He sat back and took a sip of his tranya. He chuckled. "I guess it is. But, I haven't been getting any at all, lately, y'know? Didn't bother me much, but there comes a point ... " For some reason, he felt an itchy tingle on his lips. He rubbed. "Say, Jim. Have you met our diplomatic visitor yet?"

"No, I don't think ... speak of the devil." For Lwaxana Xal had just flounced into the room, followed by her servant. Her eyes honed in on Jim's Admiral's uniform as if she'd been raised her whole life to detect that type of thing. She zoomed over to them and bent down, catching Jim in a hug and kissing him on both cheeks. He managed to hug back, looking stunned.

"Oh, Admiral!" Len thought she was going to hop right into Jim's lap. "I can't tell you what an honor it is to meet you! After you saved the galaxy so many times, and, well, everything." She leered at Jim. Then her face grew hard as she turned to her servant. "Mr. Xelo! A chair!"

Jim had recovered from the initial shock. "Oh, I'm very sorry, Madam Ambassador, but ... we're needed ... on the bridge. Immediately." He started to get up, although he didn't have an easy time with the ambassador right by his chair.

"Yes, very sorry, Ma'am. Maybe another time."

Oddly, her face brightened. "Excellent!"

Jim looked at her, puzzled. "Ma'am?"

"Well, I've always wanted to see the bridge of a starship. And now you two are offering me a guided tour. How could I refuse?"

"Um, how indeed, Madam?" Jim shrugged to Len as they headed for the turbolift, the ambassador in tow.


Leonard entered the bridge. There was something almost magic about it, he thought -- a coolness, a sense of everyone knowing his duty, of everything being a giant machine, the personnel only the cogs. And although he technically wasn't a part of that machine, still Jim and even Spock thought his advice valuable; and he often found himself gravitating here when nothing was happening in Sickbay. Cadet Saavik was running the bridge with seeming ease, as if she had been born to command; Spock sat at the science console. Yes, everything was going fine ...

"Captain, sensors detect a vessel in our area, closing fast."

Len saw Jim about to respond, before he seemed to remember and stood, quiet.

"Analysis, Mr. Saavik," ordered Spock.

She examined her readouts, seeming as puzzled as a Vulcan could seem. "It's one of ours, sir. It's Reliant."

Spock paused a fraction of a second. Then, "Hail her."

Uhura tried. "She doesn't respond, sir."

Len felt the tension in the room move up a level. Spock consulted with Jim, went over displays, checked stations. Then, from beside and behind Len, "Ahem!"

The ambassador! Leonard had forgotten she was even there. "Madam ambassador, why don't we go and tour the ship's arboretum; I hear they have some lovely ... "

"Excuse me!" She ignored him, making her voice even louder. Jim turned to look, beyond surprised. "I am a Betazoid here, after all."

Betazoid? What did that have to do with anything? Sure, there was that rumor about the mind-reading; but heck, she hadn't managed to read his or Spock's or Jim's minds earlier; for instance, to come on to him and Jim when they didn't even swing that way -- and Spock, forget it ...

"Look, it's some guy called Khan. He hijacked the Reliant. He wants revenge on you, Admiral, although I don't know what problem he could have with such a foxy man as yourself." She winked at Jim. "Anyway, he's planning on blowing up the Enterprise. Oh, and he wants something called the Genesis device. After he destroys the Enterprise, he's planning on going to someplace called Spacelab Regula One and stealing the thing."

Len couldn't help but gape at her. If this was a lie, it was the most convoluted ...

"Raise shields," Spock ordered.

"Shields raised," said Sulu.

"They're raising shields, sir," reported Saavik.

"Arm photon torpedoes." Did he know somehow, or was he just being cautious?

"Arming photon torpedoes, sir," the cadet at Weapons said.

"They're arming photon torpedoes."

"Prepare phaser and photon spread, configuration Delta."

"Spread prepared."

"They're firing."


Even with a trainee crew onboard the Enterprise, she was more than a match for the antiquated Reliant. A few volleys back and forth, and they had Reliant's bridge shields down. They were able to lock on and beam her commander aboard. Len and Jim made for the turbolift; they didn't complain when the ambassador followed.

Len was in almost a state of shock, his world having been turned upside down in a matter of a few minutes. But that's how it always was when Jim was around, he reflected ... "Oh, by the way," the ambassador announced, "I know you're both gay. But you can't blame a gal for trying. It's so true what they say about the good ones." She sighed, a tad dramatically, Len thought. "I heard that." She turned to Jim. "Say, Admiral, watch out for, um, what were their names again? Chekov and Terrell. They're under some kind of mind control. Don't believe anything they say until you get those nasty bugs out of their ears." Len wondered whether the Chekov could be Pavel. "Yes," the ambassador said, "it's the Chekov from your old crew." Dadblamed woman! She smiled sweetly at him.

Jim gave her a long, suspicious look, but contacted Spock with the information anyway. Spock was sending over a boarding party to secure the Reliant; now they would also capture Chekov and Terrell. Jim absently reached up to rub his cheek.


When they reached the transporter room, sure enough, it was Khan! "I told you so, didn't I?" the ambassador said. But Len couldn't take his eyes off their old nemesis. Because Khan had definitely been doing some serious working out in the years since they'd seen each other last. That chest! Hoochie-mama! Khan's chiseled pecs heaved as he fought against the four security guards who held his restraints. His burly arms bulged with effort against the chains that bound him. His long tresses played about his well-developed shoulders. Len was becoming incredibly hot. He rubbed his lip again. Dang that itch!

"Hey, get a room, you three!" the ambassador scolded; and Len noticed that Jim was just as hot for Khan! His flushed face, his rapid breathing, and ... other things ...

Khan spat at Jim. "Kirk. I see the makings of your undoing now. I shall indeed still avenge myself upon you."

Jim fanned himself and stopped to rub his cheek. "Confine him to the b ... to quarters."

"To quarters, sir?" one of the guards asked.

"That's what I said, Mister." They hustled Khan off.


Leonard spent the rest of the evening in Sickbay, patching up various broken bones and minor injuries that the crew had received in the battle. Nothing much among the Enterprise crew. Scotty's nephew, Peter Preston, had a hairline fracture of the tibia from falling off an emergency ladder, and of course Scotty was hovering around like a mother hen. But he was soon able to send them both on their way. The worst injuries, of course, were to the Reliant crewmembers Pavel Chekov and Captain Terrell. He anesthetized them, and that seemed to be a signal to the mind-control bugs to come crawling out. Leonard wanted to save the bugs for study, but Jim walked in and shot them. Good ol' trigger-happy Jim!

He washed his hands, changed out of his scrubs, cleared his desk of paperwork. Now, he thought, now it was time for his real adventure, something he had been craving ever since this afternoon. He went to the lift and headed in the direction of Khan's quarters.

He ordered the guards to let him in -- one of those "medical emergencies" that came in so handy, so often.

The door shut behind him; he heard the lock slide true. It was dark, but he could just barely make out a figure, silent and motionless, in a nearby chair. He felt himself trembling. A voice then, smooth as snakeskin. "Doctor."

Along with his fear came arousal. "Khan."

"Why are you here? I have made no ... medical complaints."

"I, uh, I wanted to ... " his hard-on was starting to get serious, even as he acknowledged his fear. After all, he'd never done any advanced sexual maneuvers before. And he had an idea that Khan was into advanced sexual maneuvers.

Khan's face lit up in an evil smile, all white teeth, as his eyes sank to Len's crotch. "Ah. I see ... why you are here. My genetic enhancements are difficult to resist. Very well." He rose, a lean, muscular god rising from its rest to commune with a mortal. For a brief moment, Len wondered why Khan was cooperating with him. Maybe he thought if he did Len a favor, he would be released. It had happened with Marla, all those years ago ... then he stopped wondering.

"Off with your clothing!" Leonard tried to obey, but his pantleg got stuck in his boot, and he stumbled. "Fool!" A smack across his face, and Len lost his balance, landing hard on the carpet. This time he got the boot and pants off. Meanwhile, Khan undid his prisoner's coverall. "Kneel before me, fool. Suck me."

This Len was only too happy to do; Khan's cock was just as well-developed as the rest of his body. As he began sucking, he reached out to knead Khan's little ass. A chop across the wrist was his reward. "Do not touch me except where I specify! Now stop." Instantly, Leonard obeyed. Khan bent down to grab Len's jacket. With superhuman strength, he tore a strip of the tough synthetic away and used it to bind Len's wrists behind his back. Len felt a new wave of arousal at the tightness of the binding, and soon he was presented with Khan's large cock again. He sucked, trying to get as much into his mouth as possible. Khan started to buck, shoving it in further. Len struggled not to gag. It wasn't too long, though, before Khan told him to stop again. As he inhaled the musky smell of Khan's arousal, his own cock twitched miserably. He panted to catch his breath.

Len watched Khan's easy movements as he bent down to pick up the uniform jacket again, the bulging muscles moving under the tight coverall. He wanted nothing more than to touch, but he couldn't. Khan tore off two more strips of fabric while studying Leonard. "Very good. I see you are pleased," he grinned. Then he seemed to dismiss Leonard. "Bend over that table, there." Len struggled to his feet, knees rasping in protest. He couldn't really bend over but had to flop down on the transalum surface, striking his head and seeing a few stars. Then Khan was behind him. He tied one strip tightly around Len's neck and one over his eyes. "Now we will both be pleased," he said, all-knowing; and Len could have sworn he heard a beep, as of a commlink being pressed, but he didn't have time to consider it further.

Pain lanced through him as Khan entered him roughly, without preamble. He cried out in surprise, only to find the cruel collar digging into his throat, choking him -- Khan had grabbed it and twisted. He couldn't breathe, needed to breathe. He became dizzy and was starting to pass out -- a strange euphoria came over him -- Khan let go. Len's head crashed to the cold table again, and he could only lie there, gasping. "You will make no sound unless I authorize it," Khan told him, matter-of-factly.

As he caught his breath, he realized that Khan was all the way in now; and that it was starting to get easier, not so painful. His own erection hung under the table, moist, throbbing with each heartbeat, needing to be touched. He knew better than to beg for it, though.

Len didn't know how long he stayed there, silent, his sweat slicking the smooth table, feeling Khan's large shaft drive him insane -- but eventually, he thought he heard the swish of a door opening. And then he heard Khan's breathing very close, his cool whisper in Len's ear, "Cry out now. Cry out your pleasure." And Khan's strong hand caressed Len's cock, and Len cried out, calling Khan's name as he spent himself over Khan's fingers. And Khan reached out with his other hand to remove the blindfold, and silhouetted in the doorway's rectangle of bright light was Jim.

A very aroused Jim, by the look of things; a Jim with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. A Jim who began to tremble with anger, took a deep breath, became anger itself. "KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

Khan pumped a few more times; Len could feel the hot load spurting into him. And then Khan laughed. "I have beaten you, James T. Kirk. You wish me to ... fuck you. And I will not fuck you. I will fuck your underlings; I will fuck anyone. Except you." He laughed again. Shortly, he pushed himself away, untied Len's wrists, and sealed his coverall. He said nothing more, but stood proudly, smiling. Len staggered over to his uniform and put it on, all but the jacket. Now sated, he couldn't imagine why he was here. Seemed like a good idea at the time ... he took Jim's hand and limped toward the door. Seemingly in shock, Jim followed.

The security guards gave him and Jim some strange looks when they left, but he only glared back. Then, about two meters down the hall, Leonard's communicator beeped. "McCoy here."

It was Uhura's voice. "Emergency communique from the Betazoid embassy, Doctor."

The Betazoid embassy? Now what in tarnation ... ? "I'll take it in conference room 12, Uhura."

They hurried to conference room 12. The worried face of a Betazoid was on the screen. "Doctor McCoy! I'm Doctor Laxwax, Surgeon General of Betazed. I've talked to Captain Spock already, but I wanted to contact you, too. It's about the Ambassador."

"Ambassador Xal?" Oh, no, what was wrong?

"I'll be blunt. She's going through a ... medical condition that we here on Betazed call the Prophase. It's somewhat like our form of Human puberty."

Len considered. Human puberty didn't require any treatment, and he didn't remember seeing the Prophase in any of his admittedly-scanty medical information about Betazoids. But maybe ... "Does she require any treatment, sir?"

"No, she's perfectly fine. But she did leave the planet under false pretenses. She had a urine sample from one of her friends beamed into her own bladder because she knew she wouldn't be allowed offplanet in such a condition. Your ship is even now diverting to Betazed to bring the ambassador back to us."

Now Len was baffled. "What's dangerous about her condition?"

"During the Prophase, anyone that a Betazoid touches will become incredibly sexually aroused. Why, they're bound to jump on any random person! The incubation period is three to four Earth hours. Everyone who has touched her will need to be thoroughly rubbed down with decontamination gel over the entire body surface. Unless they've already had sexual intercourse since the contamination; that's an automatic cure."

There was the answer to why. And the cure for Jim sounded easy enough; one of the nurses could do it. "Will do, sir. McCoy out." The connection was cut. He looked at Jim, only to find Jim leering back.

"Decontamination gel, huh, Bones?" His tongue peeked out to lick a corner of his mouth.

"Dammit, Jim; I'm a doctor, not a masseur." Then he considered. Sure, he wasn't horny anymore; but watching Jim get off could be fun, too. "Oh, what the hell, Jim; I'll treat you. Let's go to Sickbay." And, arm in arm, they left the conference room.

They walked out into the hallway, only to find another couple walking the opposite way -- Sulu and the ambassador, with no Mr. Xelo in sight.

"Where did you say your quarters were, big boy?"

"Right over here, cutie. Oh, Admiral! Doctor!" Sulu brought himself up short.

"As you were, Sulu," Jim said. They walked on. "He'll be cured soon enough."

Len nodded. "She's probably a lot better looking naked, anyway. Right, Jim?"

"Yes. What an *atrocious* dress!"


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