When his shift began, he had been filled in on the discovery of the day -- a small transport ship, apparently from Earth, with a number of cryogenically frozen humans aboard. Only one had been revived, with difficulty; the rest would remain in stasis until they were able to get to a starbase, for the ship was not equipped to handle so many cases at once.
Little was known about these people, only that they had apparently escaped from Earth during the time of the Eugenics War. Chekov had always been a bit of a history buff, and hoped to get the chance to meet these people before they all parted company. It would be quite fascinating to actually talk to someone who lived during that phase of human evolution.
No sooner had he thought this than the lift door opened and a man stepped out. He was powerfully built, and very imposing. At once, Chekov knew he must be the human from the past, for he was unlike anyone on the ship. Chekov's heart was racing, as his mind played out scenarios of seduction and ravishment as he watched this commanding presence walk about the upper bridge, perusing the layout of the stations and the information they displayed.
As it was late, most of the stations were unmanned; there was only a pilot on the bridge with Chekov. Chekov wished that he were alone. The intruder had nearly made a full circle of the bridge before Chekov asked, "May I help you, sir?"
"I was unable to sleep," he said, not bothering to look at Chekov as he continued, "and the captain said that I had free reign of the ship." He paused then turned to face Chekov, smiling as he added, "I assumed that there would not be a problem coming here so late at night."
"No, not at all," Chekov smiled back, adding, "of course, you cannot see the bridge at it's best so late at night ... it is most impressive when fully manned."
"I suppose it is," he said, as he came down the steps, and stood beside the center seat. "But then, you would not be here." He turned the seat, so that Chekov was facing him, as he continued, "I am Khan ... and you are?"
"Chekov. Pavel Chekov," he stammered. The proximity of this man nearly overpowering him.
"Ah, Chekov," Khan sighed, as he stood before the young officer. He bent down, so that their lips were nearly touching as he whispered, "Send the pilot away."
Chekov opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he said, "Daniels, why don't you take your break ... I'll call you if I need you."
Daniels turned, and saw the pleading look in Chekov's eye. He stood, and said, "I'll be gone for twenty minutes ... don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Thanks, Daniels ... I owe you." Chekov said, as his friend left the bridge. Before the lift closed, hot lips were pressed against his as he was pulled to his feet. As their bodies pressed together, Chekov could feel his arousal growing.
He slipped his hand between them, cupping Khan with one hand, as he slipped the other down Khan's back. They remained this way, tongues dueling and hands groping, for some time, then suddenly, Khan pulled away, and said, "On your knees."
Chekov didn't hesitate ... he knelt before the commanding figure, and quickly unfastened his trousers, releasing the impressive cock. Khan spread his legs slightly, as Chekov took the head into his mouth, circling the tip with his tongue.
Strong hands held his head in place, as Khan thrust his hips forward, forcing the full ten inches down Chekov's throat. "Good ... good," he said, obviously impressed when the young man did not gag on the intrusion. "You do this quite well, my friend. No doubt, you've had some practice." After a few more deep thrusts, he pulled out most of the way as he said, "Tell me, do you service your captain like this? Is that how you got to sit in his chair late at night?"
Before Chekov could answer, Khan thrust deep once again ... his hot come spurting down Chekov's throat faster than the young ensign could swallow it. When he was done, Chekov continued to suck on the semi-rigid cock, milking it for every last drop -- Khan moaned in pleasure at the stimulation of his over sensitized flesh.
As the lift doors opened, he pushed Chekov away, straightening his clothing, as the young ensign collapsed at his feet. Khan reached down and offered Chekov a hand; he stood, unsteadily, leaning against Khan for support. Daniels ignored the scene, as he returned to his station.
"If you care to finish what you started," Khan whispered, as he grabbed Chekov's ass, and ground their hips together, "come to my quarters when your shift ends. I wish to see how well you can accommodate me, in every way." He then pushed Chekov away, and strode purposefully toward the turbolift.
Chekov was painfully aroused when he sat back in the captain's chair ... the hours until the end of shift would pass very slowly, he knew ... anticipation of being impaled by Khan was almost too much for him to bear.
Chekov's indiscretion may have endangered the whole crew. Deep down, he knew he should tell the captain ... but not now. Later, when the crisis was over, he would have to find a way ...