ST XI kink meme fill, Sulu/Chekov
Title: Fill for "Chulu voice fetish"
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
Summary: Fill for the following kink meme prompt: "nu!Sulu's voice may not have the incredible 92%-cacao-smoothness of his prime predecessor, but it's still incredibly deep and sonorous and mad sexy. Chekov thinks so, anyway. Which is why he keeps having to excuse himself to his bunk when Sulu's voice is sexier than usual for some reason (just woke up, has a cold, etc). Sulu notices this after a while, and follows him back one night. Of course, first-time sexiness ensues."
Note: This was filled a long time ago on the kink meme and I'm reposting it in my journal mainly for archive purposes. So, apologies if you've already read this.
Chekov thinks he’s pinpointed the exact spot.
The spot is somewhere in his chest, maybe around his solar plexus. It’s connected, by an electric bundle of nerves, to his heart and his groin and his skin.
And he hadn’t even known it was there until the day Hikaru Sulu had called out “Aye captain, warp factor six,” his voice silvery and clear and masculine, and the spot burst open like fireworks. Chekov’s skin had erupted in gooseflesh, his breath had caught, and his cock - well, he’d managed not to get hard, but only barely. He’d spent the rest of that shift trying not to look Sulu in the eye.
Ever since then, Chekov’s bridge shifts have been like purgatory: caught somewhere between the heaven of listening to his helm partner’s voice, and the hell of struggling to keep his dick under control, lest he look like a hormone-addled teenager in front of all his older colleagues. More and more frequently, Chekov flees to his quarters the second he’s off duty, much to Sulu’s increasing confusion. Certainly, Sulu has no idea that Chekov’s gone to frantically jerk himself off, or that it’s his voice Chekov replays over and over in his head until he’s out of breath and his fingers are sticky.
At first, Chekov had hoped it would get better in time, that maybe he just needed to get used to Sulu’s voice. Instead, it had only gotten worse. Soon even the mere promise of it - the sight of Sulu licking his lips and taking a breath - had become enough to give Chekov a jolt of anticipation. And when Sulu actually did speak, he might as well be leaning over and sliding kisses down Chekov’s spine. Chekov’s bridge shifts are becoming a daily marathon of self-discipline and endurance; but he’s mostly able to keep a handle on himself.
And then comes that day.
That day being the one when Kirk and Sulu return from an away mission on some icy planet. Kirk’s laughing as the two men emerge onto the bridge, while Sulu’s dark eyes and full lips are set in a rather adorably embarrassed expression (or so Chekov thinks, but then, his infatuation with his helm partner had been sparked by a similar look after the inertial dampeners incident). The expression only breaks when Sulu turns away to bury a few discreet coughs in his sleeve.
“And here I thought you were the toughest guy on the ship,” Kirk teases. “You can handle crazed Romulans, but not a little cold air?”
“You sound like my sisters,” Sulu says good-naturedly, taking his seat next to Chekov. “They still make fun of me for constantly catching colds when I was a kid.”
And he turns with an affectionate grin towards Chekov, who has gone very, very still.
Yes, Sulu’s come down with a cold, although he doesn’t particularly look like it. He only sounds like it, like his throat’s been hollowed out. His voice has deepened by at least an octave, but lost none of its strength, all raw molten warmth and ragged edges. And Sulu can’t seem to control the way it warps and wanes, which makes every word out of his mouth sound like it’s teetering on the edge of a full-throated moan.
The spot in Chekov’s chest has suddenly caught fire.
“Don’t worry, McCoy’s checked me out,” Sulu reassures him. “I’m not contagious. It’s just wrecked my voice.”
“You-" Chekov has to clear his throat to keep his own voice from coming out in a squeak. “You sound fine to me.”
Sulu chuckles, a cascading noise, like he’s trying to hit every note on some erotic musical scale. “That’s kind of you to say.”
The fact that Sulu seems embarrassed about his voice - completely innocent to the effect he’s having - somehow drives Chekov even crazier. He crosses his legs tight, although it’s too late to prevent his cock from lifting and hardening. Biting his lip, Chekov tries to fight down the urge to drag Sulu off the bridge so they can fuck right now, an effort that is not helped by Sulu’s apparent need to make conversation.
“I have newfound respect for those Russian winters, you know,” Sulu says.
“It was - very cold?” Chekov asks stupidly.
“Brutal,” Sulu answers, with a mild groan that makes Chekov’s hips jerk up slightly of their own volition. “The snow never stopped, and you could feel the wind no matter how many layers you had on.”
“Yeah, even when you were wearing my layers,” Kirk ribs him.
Sulu blushes. “I’m eternally grateful, Captain.”
“No need for gratitude,” Kirk teases, his eyes twinkling. “I only gave you my cloak because none of us could sleep over the chattering of your teeth.”
“I don’t know how you slept without it,” Sulu answers. “Chekov, it’s true, you really need to be the one who goes on the next ice planet mission. I kept tossing and turning under the blankets, trying to get warm...”
The only thing worse than Sulu talking in that voice is Sulu talking in that voice about writhing around in bed. Chekov’s eyes roll upwards as he struggles not to let that image take root in his brain.
“You seem awfully quiet, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk puts in.
Well Keptin, that’s because I am desperately attempting not to have an orgasm right in front of you and the entire bridge crew, seems like it would be a response unbefitting a Starfleet officer. “I - I-” Chekov stutters. “I am only relieved that no one came down with pneumonia. This was a big problem back home.”
He’s completely making that up; even his rural hometown had the same standards of healthcare as the rest of planet Earth. But nobody knows enough about Russia to challenge him, something Chekov is happy about for the first time in his life, since it successfully kills the conversation. Kirk moves on to chatter with Spock about their next destination, and Sulu turns to focus on his console. Chekov takes a deep breath, thankful that he finally has a moment of peace-
“Pavel?”
His eyes flutter closed in frustration. Sulu’s trying to keep quiet, but even that tickles Chekov’s nerves.
“What?”
Sulu narrows his eyes, examining him intently. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” Chekov squawks. A hot blush creeps up under his collar.
“Really? You look a little tense,” Sulu says, and he can’t keep his voice from bending, slithering around the words.
Chekov’s breath hitches, but he gets command of himself enough to snap: “Lieutenant, I am fine.”
Sulu draws back. “Pavel, if there’s something I’ve done...?”
“No, there is nothing.” Chekov knows he sounds unfairly harsh, but he’s desperate. “I simply have calculations I must finish. Please.”
“Okay, sure,” Sulu agrees, although he’s clearly not satisfied. But he does at last fall silent.
Chekov spends the rest of his shift with his eyes fixed on his console, so fiercely he could burn a hole in the titanium, punching buttons to make it look like he’s doing real work. But in truth, the numbers barely register in his brain. It’s still taking the vast majority of his energy to avoid coming all over himself, especially since Kirk and Sulu keep teasing each other about the away mission, meaning Chekov can’t calm himself for more than a few moments at a time. Between his complete inability to concentrate and Sulu fighting off his cold, it’s a miracle the Enterprise helm team doesn’t accidentally drive the ship straight into a black hole that day.
***
When their shift ends a short time later, Chekov can’t get to the turbolift fast enough. His erection hasn’t subsided, at all, and he knows he won’t be able to hide it for long. His only hope is to get back to his quarters before anyone notices. The doors to the lift are about to close, leaving him mercifully alone, when -
“Hold,” Sulu calls out.
Chekov groans under his breath, humiliated that he feels a fresh flush of arousal when Sulu gives even that simple command.
Sulu hurries into the turbolift, and thankfully no one else joins them before the doors slide shut and it starts to move. Chekov steps forward, positioning himself as close to the doors as will look natural. With any luck, from this angle Sulu won’t see the bulge straining at the front of his trousers. And from this angle Chekov can’t see Sulu’s lean, square shoulders, nor the jump of his Adam’s apple, nor anything else that might threaten his precarious self-control.
“You know,” Sulu says, “at first I thought you were mad at me for something.”
At the fresh reminder of how husky Sulu’s voice is, Chekov is nearly overpowered by the urge to jerk off right then and there. “No, I am not angry,” he manages to get out.
“Then I paid more attention.” Sulu steps closer, and now that husky voice is right in Chekov’s ear. “You’re kind of turned on, aren’t you?”
“No…” But Chekov’s eyes have squeezed shut, and he can’t keep the word from becoming a strangled whimper.
“All right. Maybe not ‘kind of’ turned on,” Sulu goes on. “Maybe very turned on.”
“Hikaru,” Chekov pleads, “do you understand what you are doing to me?”
Sulu loops an arm around him from behind, his fingers reaching up to brush Chekov’s lips, and he finds the back of Chekov’s neck for a kiss. “I might be able to guess,” he says.
It’s too much. With a guttural burst of Russian, he whirls around. Sulu’s too surprised to protest when Chekov surges forward, pushing him against the back of the turbolift, and captures his lips in a violent kiss. Sulu yields to him immediately, and for a few moments there is nothing but the urgent, breathless meeting of their lips over and over again, tongues sliding against each other, their moans drowning out the whirr of the turbolift. It’s better than anything Chekov’s spent the last hour trying not to fantasize about, but it still feels like he can’t get enough.
“What did you just say?” Sulu gasps out.
“I told you to stop torturing me,” Chekov answers, plunging forward again, barely able to get the words out between kisses at Sulu’s neck, his jaw, his mouth. “You keep talking, and talking, and your voice nearly made me come right there on the bridge-”
“Ohhhh-” Sulu answers. And now he’s wrestling Chekov back, fingers circling the younger man’s arms in a bruising grip. A moment later Sulu’s hips push forward, and even with the layers of clothing between them, Chekov cries out upon feeling how hard he is.
“I want you,” Chekov bursts out. “Every time you talk, I want this.”
Faint surprise registers on Sulu’s face. “I thought I was imagining it,” he says. “I thought since you look so fuckable all the time, my mind was playing tricks on me.”
“No trick, no trick,” Chekov protests, growing incoherent as Sulu’s hands begin to roam over his body, cupping at his ass.
“My voice, really?” Sulu asks, now deliberately reaching as deep into his vocal register as he can go, and Chekov groans so loudly he’s amazed no one overhears them outside the lift.
He’s equally amazed when the turbolift opens up to an empty hallway; meaning no one is there to see the alpha helm team so wrapped around each other that it might have been difficult to tell whose gold shirt is whose, Sulu’s head thrown back so that Chekov can cover his throat in hungry kisses, hips thrusting back and forth against each other, running hands over each other’s clothes and hair and skin.
“Come on, let’s go, your quarters are closer,” Sulu urges, and even as they disentangle themselves and make their way through the corridor, he keeps up a steady murmur in Chekov’s ear. “I can’t believe you held it together this long, Pavel. I know how hard you are, and I know it was really getting to you - I know you were about to lose it right there, weren’t you-“
Chekov’s fingers tremble as he enters his key code, and no sooner have the doors opened than he grabs Sulu by the sleeve and roughly pulls him in. Sulu makes a delighted noise, already tearing off his shirt, and his mouth finds Chekov’s again before the door even finishes sliding shut.
“You are evil, Hikaru,” he hisses. “Saying such things to me, out in the hallway, when you know what you are doing to me.”
“I can’t help it,” Sulu answers, lifting Chekov’s shirt up and off, dragging kisses along his bare collarbone. “If you only knew what you look like...”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Well, let’s see.” He guides Chekov down onto the couch. “Your face is all red...” Sulu’s on top of him now, and when he rocks his hips even a little, Chekov sees stars. “You’re absolutely covered in sweat, your hair is getting wet and sticky...” Sulu bends down, kissing Chekov roughly, and moans into his mouth when Chekov thrusts up against him. “Your mouth is open, and all I can think about is how it’s going to feel on my dick-”
“Yes,” Chekov cries out, “yes, Hikaru, I want to suck you right now-”
“Nnnnnn,” Sulu whimpers incoherently at this, and Chekov takes this as his invitation to push up, forcing Sulu onto his back. Despite how desperate he is for relief, Chekov wants to do this first, because he needs to hear Sulu get off.
He tugs down Sulu’s trousers and bends low, openly surveying the lean ripple of his muscles, before turning the same gaze to his thick erection. Chekov parts his lips.
“Dammit, Pavel, you are the huh- hottest fucking thing I’ve ever - ever - Oh - ahhh- ohhhhhhh--!” And it’s even better than Chekov had hoped for when he takes Sulu’s shaft into his mouth, when Sulu’s voice finally gives way, rising from a sonorous groan to a wild, jagged wail. His eyes have fallen shut, his lips parted and trembling, a sight that only makes Chekov determined to suck harder.
At last Sulu freezes, his breath catching at the same moment he spurts hotly into Chekov’s mouth. Chekov swallows him completely, pulling back, watching Sulu’s chest heave up and down.
When he recovers, Sulu turns a determined gaze up to Chekov.
“You’ve waited too long for this, Pavel.” His voice slides along Chekov’s skin at the same moment his fingers do, pushing Chekov back, opening his pants. “Far too long...”
For all his anticipation, Chekov still isn’t ready for how fast Sulu lowers his head, tonguing along the head of Chekov’s dick. He takes it deep into his throat, with a relentless sucking pressure that robs Chekov of the ability to move, the ability to think, the ability to do anything except clench at the cushions while pleasure rockets through his muscles.
And then Sulu moans, even as his mouth is full, and that’s when Chekov’s vision whites out and his mind dissolves, and it’s like that spot has taken over his entire body. His skin is on fire and his hips buck furiously, and it’s not until after he’s emptied himself down Sulu’s throat that Chekov realizes he’s been shouting delirious pleas the entire time.
His muscles still weak and trembling, Chekov cracks open an eye to find Sulu staring at him in something like awe.
“Seriously, Pavel,” he breathes. “From now on, I’m visiting every cold planet we come across.”
“No, no.” Chekov tugs at Sulu’s shoulder, who needs no significant urging to lie down and nestle himself against Chekov’s body, his head coming to rest on the younger man’s bare chest. Idly, Chekov strokes Sulu’s hair. “It really is not worth you getting sick.”
“Are you kidding? That was completely worth it.”
“Mmmm, you make such a sacrifice for my pleasure,” Chekov teases him, planting light kisses along his forehead. “You really used to catch a lot of colds?”
“Well, I never thought it would be one of my selling points, but yes.” Sulu laughs, sheepish. “Every fall and winter, the minute the air changed.”
“In that case, I am officially inviting you to come with me back to Russia at the earliest opportunity...”
-end-
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sulu/Chekov
Summary: Fill for the following kink meme prompt: "nu!Sulu's voice may not have the incredible 92%-cacao-smoothness of his prime predecessor, but it's still incredibly deep and sonorous and mad sexy. Chekov thinks so, anyway. Which is why he keeps having to excuse himself to his bunk when Sulu's voice is sexier than usual for some reason (just woke up, has a cold, etc). Sulu notices this after a while, and follows him back one night. Of course, first-time sexiness ensues."
Note: This was filled a long time ago on the kink meme and I'm reposting it in my journal mainly for archive purposes. So, apologies if you've already read this.
Chekov thinks he’s pinpointed the exact spot.
The spot is somewhere in his chest, maybe around his solar plexus. It’s connected, by an electric bundle of nerves, to his heart and his groin and his skin.
And he hadn’t even known it was there until the day Hikaru Sulu had called out “Aye captain, warp factor six,” his voice silvery and clear and masculine, and the spot burst open like fireworks. Chekov’s skin had erupted in gooseflesh, his breath had caught, and his cock - well, he’d managed not to get hard, but only barely. He’d spent the rest of that shift trying not to look Sulu in the eye.
Ever since then, Chekov’s bridge shifts have been like purgatory: caught somewhere between the heaven of listening to his helm partner’s voice, and the hell of struggling to keep his dick under control, lest he look like a hormone-addled teenager in front of all his older colleagues. More and more frequently, Chekov flees to his quarters the second he’s off duty, much to Sulu’s increasing confusion. Certainly, Sulu has no idea that Chekov’s gone to frantically jerk himself off, or that it’s his voice Chekov replays over and over in his head until he’s out of breath and his fingers are sticky.
At first, Chekov had hoped it would get better in time, that maybe he just needed to get used to Sulu’s voice. Instead, it had only gotten worse. Soon even the mere promise of it - the sight of Sulu licking his lips and taking a breath - had become enough to give Chekov a jolt of anticipation. And when Sulu actually did speak, he might as well be leaning over and sliding kisses down Chekov’s spine. Chekov’s bridge shifts are becoming a daily marathon of self-discipline and endurance; but he’s mostly able to keep a handle on himself.
And then comes that day.
That day being the one when Kirk and Sulu return from an away mission on some icy planet. Kirk’s laughing as the two men emerge onto the bridge, while Sulu’s dark eyes and full lips are set in a rather adorably embarrassed expression (or so Chekov thinks, but then, his infatuation with his helm partner had been sparked by a similar look after the inertial dampeners incident). The expression only breaks when Sulu turns away to bury a few discreet coughs in his sleeve.
“And here I thought you were the toughest guy on the ship,” Kirk teases. “You can handle crazed Romulans, but not a little cold air?”
“You sound like my sisters,” Sulu says good-naturedly, taking his seat next to Chekov. “They still make fun of me for constantly catching colds when I was a kid.”
And he turns with an affectionate grin towards Chekov, who has gone very, very still.
Yes, Sulu’s come down with a cold, although he doesn’t particularly look like it. He only sounds like it, like his throat’s been hollowed out. His voice has deepened by at least an octave, but lost none of its strength, all raw molten warmth and ragged edges. And Sulu can’t seem to control the way it warps and wanes, which makes every word out of his mouth sound like it’s teetering on the edge of a full-throated moan.
The spot in Chekov’s chest has suddenly caught fire.
“Don’t worry, McCoy’s checked me out,” Sulu reassures him. “I’m not contagious. It’s just wrecked my voice.”
“You-" Chekov has to clear his throat to keep his own voice from coming out in a squeak. “You sound fine to me.”
Sulu chuckles, a cascading noise, like he’s trying to hit every note on some erotic musical scale. “That’s kind of you to say.”
The fact that Sulu seems embarrassed about his voice - completely innocent to the effect he’s having - somehow drives Chekov even crazier. He crosses his legs tight, although it’s too late to prevent his cock from lifting and hardening. Biting his lip, Chekov tries to fight down the urge to drag Sulu off the bridge so they can fuck right now, an effort that is not helped by Sulu’s apparent need to make conversation.
“I have newfound respect for those Russian winters, you know,” Sulu says.
“It was - very cold?” Chekov asks stupidly.
“Brutal,” Sulu answers, with a mild groan that makes Chekov’s hips jerk up slightly of their own volition. “The snow never stopped, and you could feel the wind no matter how many layers you had on.”
“Yeah, even when you were wearing my layers,” Kirk ribs him.
Sulu blushes. “I’m eternally grateful, Captain.”
“No need for gratitude,” Kirk teases, his eyes twinkling. “I only gave you my cloak because none of us could sleep over the chattering of your teeth.”
“I don’t know how you slept without it,” Sulu answers. “Chekov, it’s true, you really need to be the one who goes on the next ice planet mission. I kept tossing and turning under the blankets, trying to get warm...”
The only thing worse than Sulu talking in that voice is Sulu talking in that voice about writhing around in bed. Chekov’s eyes roll upwards as he struggles not to let that image take root in his brain.
“You seem awfully quiet, Mr. Chekov,” Kirk puts in.
Well Keptin, that’s because I am desperately attempting not to have an orgasm right in front of you and the entire bridge crew, seems like it would be a response unbefitting a Starfleet officer. “I - I-” Chekov stutters. “I am only relieved that no one came down with pneumonia. This was a big problem back home.”
He’s completely making that up; even his rural hometown had the same standards of healthcare as the rest of planet Earth. But nobody knows enough about Russia to challenge him, something Chekov is happy about for the first time in his life, since it successfully kills the conversation. Kirk moves on to chatter with Spock about their next destination, and Sulu turns to focus on his console. Chekov takes a deep breath, thankful that he finally has a moment of peace-
“Pavel?”
His eyes flutter closed in frustration. Sulu’s trying to keep quiet, but even that tickles Chekov’s nerves.
“What?”
Sulu narrows his eyes, examining him intently. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” Chekov squawks. A hot blush creeps up under his collar.
“Really? You look a little tense,” Sulu says, and he can’t keep his voice from bending, slithering around the words.
Chekov’s breath hitches, but he gets command of himself enough to snap: “Lieutenant, I am fine.”
Sulu draws back. “Pavel, if there’s something I’ve done...?”
“No, there is nothing.” Chekov knows he sounds unfairly harsh, but he’s desperate. “I simply have calculations I must finish. Please.”
“Okay, sure,” Sulu agrees, although he’s clearly not satisfied. But he does at last fall silent.
Chekov spends the rest of his shift with his eyes fixed on his console, so fiercely he could burn a hole in the titanium, punching buttons to make it look like he’s doing real work. But in truth, the numbers barely register in his brain. It’s still taking the vast majority of his energy to avoid coming all over himself, especially since Kirk and Sulu keep teasing each other about the away mission, meaning Chekov can’t calm himself for more than a few moments at a time. Between his complete inability to concentrate and Sulu fighting off his cold, it’s a miracle the Enterprise helm team doesn’t accidentally drive the ship straight into a black hole that day.
***
When their shift ends a short time later, Chekov can’t get to the turbolift fast enough. His erection hasn’t subsided, at all, and he knows he won’t be able to hide it for long. His only hope is to get back to his quarters before anyone notices. The doors to the lift are about to close, leaving him mercifully alone, when -
“Hold,” Sulu calls out.
Chekov groans under his breath, humiliated that he feels a fresh flush of arousal when Sulu gives even that simple command.
Sulu hurries into the turbolift, and thankfully no one else joins them before the doors slide shut and it starts to move. Chekov steps forward, positioning himself as close to the doors as will look natural. With any luck, from this angle Sulu won’t see the bulge straining at the front of his trousers. And from this angle Chekov can’t see Sulu’s lean, square shoulders, nor the jump of his Adam’s apple, nor anything else that might threaten his precarious self-control.
“You know,” Sulu says, “at first I thought you were mad at me for something.”
At the fresh reminder of how husky Sulu’s voice is, Chekov is nearly overpowered by the urge to jerk off right then and there. “No, I am not angry,” he manages to get out.
“Then I paid more attention.” Sulu steps closer, and now that husky voice is right in Chekov’s ear. “You’re kind of turned on, aren’t you?”
“No…” But Chekov’s eyes have squeezed shut, and he can’t keep the word from becoming a strangled whimper.
“All right. Maybe not ‘kind of’ turned on,” Sulu goes on. “Maybe very turned on.”
“Hikaru,” Chekov pleads, “do you understand what you are doing to me?”
Sulu loops an arm around him from behind, his fingers reaching up to brush Chekov’s lips, and he finds the back of Chekov’s neck for a kiss. “I might be able to guess,” he says.
It’s too much. With a guttural burst of Russian, he whirls around. Sulu’s too surprised to protest when Chekov surges forward, pushing him against the back of the turbolift, and captures his lips in a violent kiss. Sulu yields to him immediately, and for a few moments there is nothing but the urgent, breathless meeting of their lips over and over again, tongues sliding against each other, their moans drowning out the whirr of the turbolift. It’s better than anything Chekov’s spent the last hour trying not to fantasize about, but it still feels like he can’t get enough.
“What did you just say?” Sulu gasps out.
“I told you to stop torturing me,” Chekov answers, plunging forward again, barely able to get the words out between kisses at Sulu’s neck, his jaw, his mouth. “You keep talking, and talking, and your voice nearly made me come right there on the bridge-”
“Ohhhh-” Sulu answers. And now he’s wrestling Chekov back, fingers circling the younger man’s arms in a bruising grip. A moment later Sulu’s hips push forward, and even with the layers of clothing between them, Chekov cries out upon feeling how hard he is.
“I want you,” Chekov bursts out. “Every time you talk, I want this.”
Faint surprise registers on Sulu’s face. “I thought I was imagining it,” he says. “I thought since you look so fuckable all the time, my mind was playing tricks on me.”
“No trick, no trick,” Chekov protests, growing incoherent as Sulu’s hands begin to roam over his body, cupping at his ass.
“My voice, really?” Sulu asks, now deliberately reaching as deep into his vocal register as he can go, and Chekov groans so loudly he’s amazed no one overhears them outside the lift.
He’s equally amazed when the turbolift opens up to an empty hallway; meaning no one is there to see the alpha helm team so wrapped around each other that it might have been difficult to tell whose gold shirt is whose, Sulu’s head thrown back so that Chekov can cover his throat in hungry kisses, hips thrusting back and forth against each other, running hands over each other’s clothes and hair and skin.
“Come on, let’s go, your quarters are closer,” Sulu urges, and even as they disentangle themselves and make their way through the corridor, he keeps up a steady murmur in Chekov’s ear. “I can’t believe you held it together this long, Pavel. I know how hard you are, and I know it was really getting to you - I know you were about to lose it right there, weren’t you-“
Chekov’s fingers tremble as he enters his key code, and no sooner have the doors opened than he grabs Sulu by the sleeve and roughly pulls him in. Sulu makes a delighted noise, already tearing off his shirt, and his mouth finds Chekov’s again before the door even finishes sliding shut.
“You are evil, Hikaru,” he hisses. “Saying such things to me, out in the hallway, when you know what you are doing to me.”
“I can’t help it,” Sulu answers, lifting Chekov’s shirt up and off, dragging kisses along his bare collarbone. “If you only knew what you look like...”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Well, let’s see.” He guides Chekov down onto the couch. “Your face is all red...” Sulu’s on top of him now, and when he rocks his hips even a little, Chekov sees stars. “You’re absolutely covered in sweat, your hair is getting wet and sticky...” Sulu bends down, kissing Chekov roughly, and moans into his mouth when Chekov thrusts up against him. “Your mouth is open, and all I can think about is how it’s going to feel on my dick-”
“Yes,” Chekov cries out, “yes, Hikaru, I want to suck you right now-”
“Nnnnnn,” Sulu whimpers incoherently at this, and Chekov takes this as his invitation to push up, forcing Sulu onto his back. Despite how desperate he is for relief, Chekov wants to do this first, because he needs to hear Sulu get off.
He tugs down Sulu’s trousers and bends low, openly surveying the lean ripple of his muscles, before turning the same gaze to his thick erection. Chekov parts his lips.
“Dammit, Pavel, you are the huh- hottest fucking thing I’ve ever - ever - Oh - ahhh- ohhhhhhh--!” And it’s even better than Chekov had hoped for when he takes Sulu’s shaft into his mouth, when Sulu’s voice finally gives way, rising from a sonorous groan to a wild, jagged wail. His eyes have fallen shut, his lips parted and trembling, a sight that only makes Chekov determined to suck harder.
At last Sulu freezes, his breath catching at the same moment he spurts hotly into Chekov’s mouth. Chekov swallows him completely, pulling back, watching Sulu’s chest heave up and down.
When he recovers, Sulu turns a determined gaze up to Chekov.
“You’ve waited too long for this, Pavel.” His voice slides along Chekov’s skin at the same moment his fingers do, pushing Chekov back, opening his pants. “Far too long...”
For all his anticipation, Chekov still isn’t ready for how fast Sulu lowers his head, tonguing along the head of Chekov’s dick. He takes it deep into his throat, with a relentless sucking pressure that robs Chekov of the ability to move, the ability to think, the ability to do anything except clench at the cushions while pleasure rockets through his muscles.
And then Sulu moans, even as his mouth is full, and that’s when Chekov’s vision whites out and his mind dissolves, and it’s like that spot has taken over his entire body. His skin is on fire and his hips buck furiously, and it’s not until after he’s emptied himself down Sulu’s throat that Chekov realizes he’s been shouting delirious pleas the entire time.
His muscles still weak and trembling, Chekov cracks open an eye to find Sulu staring at him in something like awe.
“Seriously, Pavel,” he breathes. “From now on, I’m visiting every cold planet we come across.”
“No, no.” Chekov tugs at Sulu’s shoulder, who needs no significant urging to lie down and nestle himself against Chekov’s body, his head coming to rest on the younger man’s bare chest. Idly, Chekov strokes Sulu’s hair. “It really is not worth you getting sick.”
“Are you kidding? That was completely worth it.”
“Mmmm, you make such a sacrifice for my pleasure,” Chekov teases him, planting light kisses along his forehead. “You really used to catch a lot of colds?”
“Well, I never thought it would be one of my selling points, but yes.” Sulu laughs, sheepish. “Every fall and winter, the minute the air changed.”
“In that case, I am officially inviting you to come with me back to Russia at the earliest opportunity...”
-end-