Sulu/Chekov and Kirk/Spock fic: Stealth

[hollycomb]

Title: Stealth
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairings: Sulu/Chekov, Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~6,500
Summary: Sulu and Chekov decide to fool around on the bridge and end up overhearing something rather personal.
Notes: Thanks to chlorate for beta reading! :)



Chekov's heart is pounding as he leaves his room and heads down the hallway toward the lifts. He's always anxious about meeting Sulu secretly like this. Sulu wants to be taken seriously -- so does Chekov -- and the Captain mercilessly teases anyone on his crew whose romantic entanglements come to light, so they try to be as discreet as possible. When they're at the console together Chekov tries not to watch Sulu's hands too closely. Sulu tells Chekov that the hardest part for him is his constant desire to find excuses to touch Chekov's hair. Chekov touches it himself as he makes his way down the hall, making sure it's arranged properly. He's stopped using gel because Sulu likes it when it's soft. Chekov smiles to himself, his cheeks burning. He's never acted like this before, not for anyone. Sulu has been inside him maybe a hundred times and Chekov still gets nervous when they meet.

The lights on the bridge are low, and Chekov is already aroused by the sight of the quiet room with Sulu sitting alone in the pilot's chair. He makes almost no noise as he walks over to Sulu, but Sulu turns and smiles at him as if he felt the air change when Chekov entered.

"C'mere," he says, his voice so low and deep that Chekov's inhibitions about what they have planned melt easily away. He sits in Sulu's lap, straddling him and drawing him forward for a kiss. Sulu's hands slide slowly up under Chekov's shirt as he sighs into the kiss and pulls Chekov more tightly against him. His breath is shaky against Chekov's lips, as if he was going to lose his mind if he had to wait another minute to have Chekov wrapped around him.

"Want to see something crazy?" Sulu asks when he pulls back. He's grinning, stroking Chekov's back with his thumbs and making him shiver. Chekov nods, and Sulu flicks his chin toward the window on space to indicate that Chekov should turn. Chekov looks back over his shoulder and smiles when he sees a purplish planet just barely visible in the distance. It's Plintar, the planet they've just left, and it's glowing intermittently with the light that emanates from the floor of its oceans.

"I have seen this, Hikaru," Chekov says, turning back to kiss Sulu's neck. He's so warm, just under his jaw, and Chekov will never tire of pressing his lips over the pump of Sulu's heartbeat.

"Yeah, but watch," Sulu says. "It's supposed to be irregular, right, but I've been seeing these patterns."

Chekov laughs against Sulu's neck and squeezes him closer. He knows they're being reckless, that they should keep their voices low and shouldn't really be doing this at all, but he can't think straight when they're together like this, in the sacred place where they do their jobs, holding each other and rubbing their erections together through their tented pants. Sulu has dared Chekov to actually have sex here, in the chair, and Chekov is afraid to try, but nothing has ever made him harder than the thought of Sulu driving up into him from the seat of this chair, Chekov holding onto the arms with his head thrown back and his eyes open only enough to see the blur of space through the window. He wants it so badly, but if they were caught the consequences would be severe.

"So the scientists who have studied the planet for hundreds of years are wrong?" Chekov says. He licks Sulu's jaw and laughs again. "In two hours you have found a pattern to Plintar's lights?"

"Maybe I'm just going crazy," Sulu says, and he starts to pull Chekov's shirt off. "Waiting for you."

"Hikaru!" Chekov protests, pushing his shirt back down. "We can't undress."

"Why not?" Sulu is smirking, and Chekov's cock is throbbing; if they do have sex here he'll last maybe thirty seconds.

"Because we might get caught! If we are dressed at least we can behave like we were working here."

"So you want to do it with our clothes on?" Sulu says. He grins and bites at Chekov's bottom lip, which makes Chekov moan and grind against him.

"Hikaru are we really going to do it?" Chekov asks, and Sulu laughs.

"Yes," he says. "I mean. If you want to."

"You know that I want to, but what if someone comes in?"

"We'll pretend we were monitoring the lights on Plintar. Making important scientific discoveries." Sulu is unbuttoning Chekov's pants as he speaks, and Chekov's breath is coming faster and faster. He's never had his cock out on the bridge, and he feels a little sacrilegious for enjoying it so much as he watches Sulu stroke him. Chekov is already drooling, and he lets his eyes fall shut, pressing his face against Sulu's cheek.

"Hikaru," he breathes out, squirming in Sulu's grip. Sulu is all patience and practice, holding him steady and taking his time. No one else has ever touched Chekov as if doing so is an art form, as if he deserves to feel this good.

"How many times a day do you think about this?" Sulu asks, his lips moving on Chekov's ear. "While we're working?"

"So many, Hikaru." Chekov's voice is already a pathetic whine, but he doesn't care. Sulu likes him like this, unraveled and loose-limbed in his arms.

"Yeah? How do you think about it? Like this, in my lap?"

"Bent over," Chekov says with a groan, again bucking fruitlessly, trying to feel more of Sulu's hand around him. "With my hands -- spread out on the -- ahhh."

Sulu is rubbing his thumb over the head of Chekov's cock, through the slick of his precome. Chekov wants to take Sulu's pants down and suck him until he comes, Chekov kneeling on the floor and Sulu's legs spread out around him, but he feels too good to move, even when Sulu bites his ear like a prompt.

"You want to be fucked?" Sulu asks in a whisper, and Chekov nods drowsily, his eyes shut and his forehead pressed to Sulu's. He's not sure if he's agreeing to being fucked over the console or taken back to Sulu's room and driven into the mattress, but he doesn't care, as long as Sulu pushes his cock into him in the next ten seconds, because he's pretty sure he'll die if Sulu doesn't.

Sulu moans with some combination of satisfaction and anticipation. He pushes his hand up under Chekov's shirt again and strokes him as if he needs calming down, kissing Chekov's face in quick little pecks. Chekov hums happily, his eyes still closed.

"C'mon," Sulu says, lifting Chekov away from him. "I want to see."

"See what?" Chekov asks. He blinks heavily at Sulu, whose pupils have grown fat with longing.

"The way you'd look. Bent over, hands spread." Sulu's voice is lower now, as if he's suddenly embarrassed. Charmed by this, Chekov gives him a dopey grin and kisses him on the mouth before dismounting.

"Here is how I would look, Hikaru," he says, turning away from Sulu and looking back out toward Plintar, which has gone dark as if it's watching them, wanting to stay hidden in the distant gloom of space. Chekov pushes his pants down and lets them flop around his ankles, then takes his underwear down slowly, listening to the change in Sulu's breathing as he does. He wants to turn and look at Sulu's face, but it seems as if it would be cheating, so instead he leans forward onto the console, spreading himself open as much as his pants will allow while they cuff his ankles.

Chekov's face is hot as he imagines what he must look like, open wide in view of the place where the Captain and his other superior officers usually sit. If he were here, Commander Spock would be able to see Chekov like this, cock hard and lily white ass cheeks spread apart as he waits for Sulu to touch him. He's mortified by the thought, and almost covers himself instinctively, but he's as turned on as he is embarrassed, his cock dripping sticky dots of precome onto the floor. They'll have to clean everything meticulously when they're done, of course.

"God," Sulu moans as he rises from the chair, and all thoughts of the aftermath are gone when he presses one hot palm over the curve of Chekov's ass. "Goddamn, Pavel."

"You'd better be quick," Chekov whispers, turning to look back at Sulu, whose mouth is open, his eyes on Chekov's ass. He looks so mesmerized by the sight that Chekov can't help laughing.

"What?" Sulu asks, undoing his pants. Chekov shakes his head and turns around again.

"Nothing. You just look funny. Come on, Hikaru, fuck me." He tries to inch his legs even farther apart, the fabric of his pants straining against his efforts. Sulu puts his hand on the small of Chekov's back, and he's shaking, and Chekov loves him more than anything.

"Hang on, gotta lube up," Sulu says, and this makes Chekov laugh again, nervous and high-pitched.

"Shh!" Sulu says, and he gives Chekov's ass a little smack for emphasis, the sound of his hand slapping against Chekov's skin echoing around the bridge. Chekov moans, wanting another, but Sulu is holding him apart now, his whole hand clumsily slick as he slides one finger in.

"Yeah," Chekov says, pushing back greedily. His face is burning, as if everyone really is back there watching what Sulu is about to do to him. He's more impatient that he's ever been, and Sulu is moving at his usual glacial pace, stretching Chekov slowly. Chekov groans and lets himself fall completely into the feeling of Sulu's finger moving inside him. He remembers gasping in shock the first time Sulu did this, because he knew that men sometimes fucked each other but he didn't know that anybody ever put their fingers in there. He was quite scandalized by the concept, but he wouldn't let Sulu stop once he'd started.

"Please, Hikaru," he manages to say, his mouth so wet and his breath too fast. "Please, now, I want you."

"Jesus," Sulu says with a groan, like he can't wait any longer, either, and he removes his finger, replacing it with the fat head of his cock. Chekov moans wildly in appreciation, much too loud.

"Shh," Sulu says again, tracing his fingers softly down Chekov's back. He pushes in deeper, and Chekov chews his lip, trying to keep quiet. He can hear Sulu struggling to do the same, his moans buried in his harsh breathing. Chekov tries to picture the scene as he would see it from across the room: the sterile, quiet bridge, he and Sulu obscene and absurd among the dimmed lights and glowing computer monitors, Sulu's hands loose on Chekov's hips as he watches his cock disappear into Chekov's ass.

"God, you look good like this," Sulu says, throaty and low, and Chekov is jealous of Sulu's vantage point. All he can see is Plintar if he looks up and the cold metal of the console if he looks down. Still, gripping the console while Sulu penetrates him more than makes up for the lack of visual stimulation. The console has become a sort of altar for them, and Chekov feels guilty for a moment, as if they're defiling it, but maybe they are actually honoring it, because it's brought them together.

"Harder, please," Chekov begs brokenly, and Sulu doesn't hesitate to give him what he's asked for. There's no time for teasing; what they're doing is dangerous and they've got to be quick. Chekov allows himself a moment of worry for the chance that they could be caught, then lets it all evaporate when Sulu starts pounding him hard, his grip on Chekov's hips tightening.

"Yeah, Hikaru, hahhh." Chekov is out of his mind, and there's no better place for an anxious genius to be, all animal pleasure and no logic, for once, at last. The only thing he likes better than this is the aftermath, his body still throbbing and completely sated as he curls into the sheets and presses himself against Sulu, settling in for a good sleep. He thinks about how they'll stumble back to Sulu's quarters after this, laughing about what they've gotten away with and ready to collapse into bed together.

That's when he hears the lift. Sulu must hear it at the same time - they're so in tune, trained to be this way, perfectly synced and always battle-ready - because he goes still, his fingers tensing on Chekov's sides. For a second they just breathe and listen, and then it's certain: someone is coming. Sulu pulls out so fast that it hurts. Chekov gasps and flails and they both struggle into their pants when they hear the lull of distant voices. Sulu grabs Chekov's shoulder and pulls him around the console before the lift doors whoosh open, and they duck, instinctive and silent, their eyes wide with disbelief as they crouch together behind the shelter of their work station. In the breathless moment that follows Chekov loves Sulu more than he ever has, because something about that look of terror in his eyes is so endearing that it makes Chekov want to fall over in some primitive, gravitational way.

"I'm afraid I do not understand, Captain," one of the entering voices says, and of course it's fucking Spock, and of course, of course, he's talking to Kirk.

"You'll understand, just c'mere," Kirk says. He sounds slightly impatient and vaguely amused, as usual. Chekov's breath catches in pure terror, and he can't pull his eyes away from Sulu's, as if they'll be safe as long as their eyes are locked. Sulu reaches out to hold Chekov's arm, and it's a pointless gesture, but still comforting.

"But the charts were completed at the end of the shift, Captain," Spock says. "I checked them myself."

"Yeah, well," Kirk says, muttering. "There was a discrepancy."

"A discrepancy, sir?"

"That's right." Kirk sighs as if he's feeling very put upon; there's a shuffling of papers and then the unmistakable sound of Kirk dropping dramatically into the Captain's chair. "C'mere, have a look."

"Captain," Spock says, his voice hovering just above the console. Chekov holds his breath, and he imagines that he can feel Sulu doing the same. Their pants are still unzipped, and they can't risk making noise by zipping them up, not that it wouldn't be obvious what they'd been doing in here anyway, considering their flushed faces and sinking erections.

"There's some sort of viscous substance on the floor here by the console," Spock says. He sounds very concerned, and Chekov is overtaken by the terrifying urge to burst into wild, nervous laughter.

"Never mind the viscous substance, come over here and look at this," Kirk says.

"But Captain, a contaminant such as this on the bridge could be a sign of an alien intruder or - "

"Spock, please, it's probably just leftover from the last time Sulu and Chekov came up here to screw around."

Sulu's eyes get huge, and Chekov feels as if he's just been stripped bare and picked up by his ankle to dangle helplessly in mid-air. His whole body burns with the heat of humiliation - but maybe the Captain is only joking. How could he know?

"Screw around, sir?" Spock says, mercifully moving away from the console. "Do you mean to suggest that Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov were engaging in intercourse here on the bridge?"

"Intercourse?" Kirk laughs. "Sure, who knows, or maybe just some heavy petting that got out of hand. Literally." He snorts. Sulu frowns, and Chekov covers his face with his hand, afraid he'll explode from embarrassment and give them away.

"That would be an extremely inappropriate use of the facilities, Captain." Spock sounds as offended as he'll ever sound. Chekov isn't sure he'll ever be able to look him in the eye again without melting with shame.

"Yeah, I agree," Kirk says, but something in his voice suggests otherwise. "But it's kind of neat, I mean, I like to think of it as an asset, my pilot and my navigator, you know, becoming one. They handle the ship like they share a brain. Having sex with each other might be part of that. I think it's pretty inspired, the whole idea of people who work together, you know. Bonding in that way."

Spock is silent for a moment. Sulu is frowning even more deeply now, looking confused. Chekov smiles to himself, despite everything, because Sulu is pretty adorable when he's trying to figure something out. Chekov is beginning to understand, and he's not sure if he wants to laugh or cry at the prospect of bearing witness to the Captain's attempts to seduce Spock.

"I don't think I understand your reasoning, Captain," Spock finally says.

"Oh, I think you do."

"Captain, are you going to explain the discrepancy you discovered in my reports?"

"I sure am. Just come over here and check it out."

Spock hesitates. Sulu boggles at Chekov and squeezes his wrist. Chekov grins wearily, nodding. They listen as Spock crosses the bridge to Kirk's chair, his footfall not as quick and certain as it usually is.

"Sit down," Kirk says, and his voice has changed. It's low and a little wicked, and Chekov's cock throbs enviously, because he's heard that change in Sulu's voice and it always means the same thing.

"I do not understand, Captain." Spock sounds as emotionless as ever.

"Yes, you do."

"There is no place for me to sit."

"Sure there is." There's a sound that must be Kirk patting his thigh. Chekov locks eyes with Sulu again. Sulu looks a little queasy, but Chekov can't stop grinning, and there's a dangerous, half-formed laugh still bouncing around inside his chest.

"You are asking me to si-"

"You know what I'm asking you to do, Spock."

"Please do not assume that I always understand your intentions."

"But you do. That's the thing. You know how it's become between you and me. As soon as I have an idea you're already asking me if we should try it. And nobody on this ship can read you like I can. Whoever thought that would be true, huh?"

Spock says nothing, and Chekov can feel it in the air on the bridge, the weight of Spock's frustrated attempt to suppress whatever conflicted emotions he's having. It was nothing like this for Chekov and Sulu; there was no discussion. They fell asleep together in Sulu's bed one night after three hours of research about side-along warp theory, and when they woke up among the books and papers they'd strewn everywhere they rolled together and just started kissing each other sleepily, tangling their legs together and laughing at themselves a little deliriously. They didn't need a single word.

"Perhaps I do understand what you are suggesting, Captain," Spock admits. Chekov can picture him and Kirk so clearly, Spock standing perfectly straight, hands folded neatly behind his back as he contemplates Kirk, who is reclining in the chair with his legs spread apart lewdly, his eyelids lowered in a predatory fashion as he smirks up at Spock.

"Well," Kirk says. "What's your opinion on my theory, Commander?"

"I do not know that I would call it a theory."

"What would you call it, then?" Kirk is already unzipping. Chekov has to bite his hand to keep from bursting into laughter, and Sulu looks at him like he's crazy, which only makes him want to laugh even harder.

"I would call it a rather flimsy excuse for indulgence, Captain."

"What! No way, I think it's more legitimate than that. It's mutual release of stress! It's, you know, there's sexual tension between any two people who work closely together."

"That may be true in your experience, Captain, but I assure you that there is no sexual tension between myself and Mr. Scott, for example."

"Yeah, well, how about me?"

"I don't think I understand the question, Captain."

"Fuck, if you don't stop saying that - fine, do you want me to be explicit?"

"Captain, you have removed your pants. I believe you are already being fairly explicit in your intentions."

"So what are your intentions, Mr. Spock? Standing there and staring at me like you're waiting for orders, or getting - on board - with, you know, my theory about the value of sex in the workplace."

Spock takes a moment to consider the question. Chekov is hard again at the thought of Kirk pantsless in his chair and waiting for Spock, who should be immune to charms like Kirk's, to crumble toward him.

"Perhaps I intend to do both," Spock says, and Chekov was not expecting that. He has to look away from Sulu because he's definitely going to lose it and laugh like a maniac if he doesn't. The expression on Sulu's face is a combination of horror and disbelief that is really much too grave for this situation.

"You want - orders?" Kirk seems surprised by this response as well.

"I always await your orders, Captain."

"Aw, fuck, Spock, don't be all kinky, it's too weird on you. Call me Jim."

"Jim," Spock says, softly, and Chekov is surprised again, because while it is subtle there is so much emotion loaded into the way Spock says Kirk's first name. There is professional respect and a kind of quieter admiration, and an entreaty, too, as if he's asking Kirk not to be cavalier with him.

"C'mere." Kirk must have heard it, too, because his voice has changed again. He still sounds needy but he's not joking anymore, and maybe he never was. Chekov wonders if he and Sulu are this obvious when they speak to each other, if everyone can hear the way they so effortlessly give each other every reassurance they need. He looks at Sulu, who is smirking down at Chekov's hardon. Sulu raises an eyebrow and Chekov shrugs.

Things are quiet for a few minutes, except for some shuffling, and then they can hear heavy breathing, a soft moan that seems like it must have been Spock's, the wet, frantic sound of kissing and the rustle of fabric against fabric. Then there's a hungry groan, and that was definitely Kirk.

"Yeah," Kirk says, breathless already. "See what I'm getting at?"

"Yes, Jim," Spock says, and his voice is so strangely tender that Chekov feels immense guilt for being present during such an intimate moment. Still, his hardon persists as the heavy breathing and panting continue on the other side of the console. He looks at Sulu, who is beginning to become similarly affected, or maybe he's only hard because he's staring at the head of Chekov's cock as it peeks out through the slit in his boxer shorts.

"Will you suck my cock?" Kirk asks, and Chekov would bust out laughing at the childish way he asked that question if he didn't feel like it came from his own mouth, directed at Sulu. Sulu seems to understand this and again gives Chekov that look, like he thinks Chekov is probably out of his mind, but he's also smirking.

"Yes, Captain," Spock says, and for some reason that goes right to Chekov cock, which is aching already, precome pooling. He tugs on Sulu's wrist, and Sulu reaches down to put one careful finger against the wet tip of Chekov's cock. He rubs just until he's got a drop of precome on his finger, and then brings his finger up to Chekov's mouth. Chekov sucks on it hungrily, trying not to moan when he tastes the salt of his own come on his tongue. It's usually not one of his favorite parts of sex, the taste of anybody's come, but he's so overstimulated at the moment, his adrenaline running high and his imminent orgasm way past due, that virtually everything is turning him on.

"Ahh, yeah," Kirk says, moaning out the words in a way that enables Chekov to clearly imagine the way he's sitting, with his head tipped back and his eyes shut as Spock sucks his cock with methodical determination. "That's right, that's good. Yeah, Spock, umph!"

That umph was extremely comical for some reason, and Chekov almost bites Sulu's finger as he struggles not to laugh. Sulu gives him a chiding look and removes his finger from Chekov's mouth, returning his hand to Chekov's cock. He closes his fingers around the shaft slowly, and Chekov sits with his back to the console, relaxing a little and spreading his legs. Now if they get caught they'll really be fucked, but he feels like he's going to die if he can't come soon, and with his whole body throbbing with the need for release he feels as if getting off is worth the risk of discovery.

"Okay, okay," Kirk says to Spock. "C'mere, before I come."

"You do not want to reach orgasm, Captain?" Spock asks, and Chekov's laugh bubbles up violently, making it halfway up his throat before he can stuff it back down, smashing his lips together. Sulu pauses in his excruciatingly slow stroking and gives him a look of warning. Chekov shakes his head and pinches his eyes shut, overstimulated in every way.

"I do, but not like that," Kirk says. "I want to, you know. If you want to."

There's a pause. "Are you referring to intercourse, Captain?"

"For the love of God, Spock, how can you call it intercourse at a time like this?"

Now Sulu is struggling not to laugh, too, biting his knuckles and pinching his eyes shut. Chekov's shoulders shake with silent convulsions of laughter, and in a strange way he doesn't think he's ever been happier in his life.

"Forgive me, Captain, but I don't particularly care for any of the colloquial references to the act."

"Man, now you're just making it worse." Kirk is laughing as if he actually maybe loves this about Spock, his awkwardness, and Chekov imagines Spock smiling back at him, just barely.

"C'mere," Kirk says, and Chekov mouths the word at Sulu, who grins and starts stroking him again, a little harder now. On the other side of the console there is shuffling and kissing and a tiny gasp that must be Spock. Chekov shuts his eyes and imagines the scene: Kirk naked in the chair and Spock completely undressed now, too, straddling Kirk's lap and staring down at him with quiet amazement as Kirk pushes one slick finger into him.

"Okay?" Kirk asks, his voice shaky in a way that again makes Chekov feel guilty for overhearing this. He's never heard the Captain's voice shake before.

"Yes, Captain," Spock says, his voice a bit more steady than Kirk's but not very. Sulu's hand moves faster on Chekov's cock and Chekov opens his eyes, because he likes the way Sulu watches him with unembarrassed astonishment when he's waiting to see him come.

"Oh, yeah, that's, ohh." Kirk is maybe inside Spock now, and the thought makes Chekov wince with a moan he can't release. He actually hopes that Kirk will be quiet for awhile, because he doesn't want any noises from the other side of the conn to take him off guard and make him yelp as he comes. He locks his eyes on Sulu's and spreads his legs wider, wishing his pants weren't cuffing him, because he can never get himself open wide enough when Sulu is between his legs.

"Tell me," Kirk says, panting. "Tell me this feels, for you, as, ahh, good as it does f-for me."

That's when Spock lets out a tiny whine of pleasure that sounds like it's been bottled up inside him for a thousand years, and Chekov can't take it anymore. He thrusts up into Sulu's hand and spills himself with an almost silent sigh of relief, sinking back further against the cold metal of the console. When he opens his eyes Sulu is watching him with that look, like he's so impressed, and Chekov grins stupidly, ready to fall asleep in his arms now. Sulu is still hard, but he shakes his head when Chekov reaches for him, mouthing Wait.

On the other side of the console, Kirk groans tremendously with his own orgasm, and Spock's breathing is hard enough that Chekov wonders if he's finished as well. Now that Chekov has come the full guilt of the situation he and Sulu have found themselves in settles over him, and he wants to leave the bridge as soon as possible.

"Oh, Jesus, fuck," Kirk says, his voice muffled by something, maybe Spock's cheek or hair. "That was, you're so - are you, I didn't hurt you, did I?" Kirk sounds nothing like Chekov expected him to, post-sex. He's sweet and consoling and Chekov feels terrible for overhearing.

"No, Jim, you did not hurt me," Spock says, clearly struggling to gather himself together.

"Where are you going?" Kirk says. "Stay."

"Someone might come in, Captain. We've been irresponsible enough - behaving like this."

"Oh - okay." Kirk actually sounds a little frightened, which Chekov didn't think was possible. He looks at Sulu, who raises his eyebrows as if to say he's ready to get the hell out of here.

"If you would like to continue our discussion about physical relationships among coworkers in my quarters, that would be - satisfactory - for me." Spock clears his throat, and Chekov feels like he can hear Kirk's smile.

"Yeah, that would be satisfactory for me, too, Commander."

As soon as they're gone Sulu curses and struggles to zip his pants up over his persistent erection. Chekov zips himself up and stands, his legs shaking. His heart is still pounding, and he's afraid someone else will suddenly pop up from behind one of the support consoles.

"Well, that was horrifying," Sulu says. He grabs Chekov's arm and pulls him toward the lift as if Chekov doesn't know where it is, which, at the moment, is a rather practical approach to the situation, because Chekov's head feels like it's full of cotton and he can't put a coherent thought together.

"It wasn't so bad," Chekov says as they ride down toward the crew quarters.

"Um, you're crazy," Sulu says. "And they know about us!"

"Yes, but they approve! Or the Keptin does, anyway."

"Well, sorry, I just think it's a little disturbing that he can recognize our spunk offhand like that."

Chekov finally lets out the laugh that's been building in his chest, crumbling against the wall of the lift. Sulu snorts and shakes his head as he pulls Chekov up.

"You're a mess," he says. "I should be the one who can barely walk. Jesus, I've never been so hard in my life."

"See, you must have liked what you overheard," Chekov says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"I think it has a lot more to do with jerking you off."

"Ah, sure, Hikaru, this is what you want me to think!"

Sulu rolls his eyes and grins as he pulls open the door to his room. Chekov is still shaking with laughter as he collapses onto Sulu's bed, and Sulu watches him fondly, pulling his clothes off.

"Ready to pick up where we left off?" Sulu asks as he climbs onto Chekov, and Chekov loves this part, the first shadow of Sulu's heavier body dropping over him.

"Yes, Hikaru," he says. "Yes, yes, yes."

But it's not the way it was on the bridge at all, because Chekov is sleepy and Sulu is sentimental, holding Chekov completely against him while he thrusts into him deep and slow, both of them lying on their sides and moaning with every drag of Sulu's cock. When Sulu comes he squeezes Chekov so hard that Chekov feels like he'll break, but it's not a bad feeling, falling to pieces in Sulu's arms. Sulu stays inside him as he throbs in the aftermath, kissing Chekov's shoulders and breathing hard against his neck.

"I feel bad, Hikaru," Chekov mumbles as he begins to drop off to sleep. "For what we saw. What if someone was watching us?"

"I'd be pretty pissed," Sulu says. "But it's their own damn fault for fooling around on the bridge. That's the risk you take."

"So you and I won't be doing that anymore?" Chekov asks, both sad and relieved about this.

"I guess not," Sulu says. "Since apparently that's a known mating ground for us." He scoffs, and Chekov laughs, wondering how in the hell he's going to keep a straight face when he sees the Captain and the Commander on the bridge tomorrow morning.

//

the end.