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fringedwellerficTitle: Even The Worst Days Have Happy Endings
Author:fringedwellerfic
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Chekov/Sulu, although Kirk/McCoy, Spock/Uhura and Scotty/Yeoman Rand mentioned in passing.
Warning: Smut. Oh, and I have no idea what colour Anton Yelchin's eyes are as a Google search gives me two different results. For my purposes, Chekov has blue eyes.
Type: Follow up to As You Were, Doctor, which is a Kirk/McCoy fic, but has a little Chekov/Sulu in it. You can read it alone, though.
Summary: It isn't until Chekov's gone that Sulu realises how much he needs him here.
When Hikaru Sulu had been told that he was to be the relief helmsman on board the newly built Enterprise, flagship of the fleet, he was honoured and a little overwhelmed. This was not the place for average abilities. To serve on the Enterprise meant you were the best of the best. His mother had been so proud, and every Sulu family member no matter how distant had received a copy of his graduation picture, stiff-backed and straight faced in his dress uniform, eyes beaming with ill-concealed excitement.
A pity then, that his primary experience so far had been of embarrassment.
A distress signal had been sent, the fleet was warping away, he was given the order to go and he had failed to take the handbrake off. Oh, how the embarrassment had burned. He had heard muted sniggers from the back of the bridge, and quiet murmurs between Captain Pike and Commander Spock. Only the Russian kid had been kind, rolling his expressive blue eyes and complaining about computers that didn’t understand accents. Laughing with Chekov had eased Sulu, until the Enterprise had dropped out of warp and all hell broke loose.
Volunteering for a suicide mission when the captain asks for officers with advanced hand to hand combat training sounds brave, sure. But sticking your hand in the air like you’re back in junior school? Not manly. Kirk’s eyeroll when discovering the fencing hadn’t been Sulu’s favourite memory of the day, either.
And now, several months into their first five year mission, Sulu was experiencing that embarrassment all over again. He liked Chekov; he did, really. Yes, he was a few years younger, and still had a few rough edges to be rubbed off him, but Chekov was fun. Everything was a new experience to the kid, and he was unflaggingly enthusiastic about everything. It was hard to be in a bad mood around him, and nearly impossible to stay in one. And just when he had you thinking he was a naïf, so young and green, he would perform some mathematical computation so difficult that even Spock looked impressed. Well, as impressed as Vulcans ever look, anyway. But just as Chekov was enthusiastic about diagnostic routines and navigational computations, he was also enthusiastic about Sulu. Ever since the footage of the space jump onto the drill and the subsequent fight had been retrieved from the Enterprise’s long range sensors and shown during the debriefing sessions at Starfleet Command, Chekov had looked at Sulu with awe and respect, and more than a little lust. As Chekov was as useless at hiding his emotions as he was with managing the letter v, the rest of the crew soon knew about it too.
Sulu was embarrassed, but oddly flattered. Being hero-worshipped was not a completely bad experience, and to be hero worshipped by someone with such pale, milky skin, and big blue eyes was actually kind of flattering, and it was this runaway freight train of thought that led to him promising to teach Chekov the basics of fencing as part of his eighteenth birthday present. He hadn’t known it was his new friend’s birthday until the computer announced it as part of the daily ship’s log. He was embarrassed because he had no gift to give Chekov until he could get to the replicator unit, but when he stammered out an offer to spend some time with Chekov later that day, you would have thought he had given Chekov his own moon. Then the captain had found out it was Chekov’s birthday, and ordered twelve hours shore leave between ferrying ambassadors around so he could complete the rite of passage known as “getting hammered on your eighteenth birthday”. Sulu had ended up dragging Chekov from the dive bar the captain had found into sickbay, where Chekov had lost the battle to keep down the contents of his stomach all over Dr.McCoy’s clean floor. McCoy had been good about it, for him, and just muttered obscenities about the captain loudly while getting Chekov detoxed. Apparently this was part of the rite of passage too, throwing up over a parental figure and passing out.
The fencing had been delayed until they had the same shift free, and Chekov had talked of nothing else all week, so it was a surprise that Chekov failed to turn up at the right time. Sulu waited for thirty minutes outside the holodeck, then started to quiz the computer about where he was. When Pavel didn’t answer the comm unit and the computer could not locate him at any work station, Sulu got worried and started to look.
The embarrassment factor had been high that night, as he interrupted what looked to be like the beginning of an...intimate interlude between the captain and Dr.McCoy. Then he had proceeded to interrupt whatever it was that Lieutenant Uhura and Commander Spock did whenever they were in...conference with each other. Then to top it off he had also managed to interrupt Scotty from celebrating a history-making event with the buxom Yeoman Rand. His growing unease about Chekov’s sudden disappearance was replaced with out and out horror when they discovered he was one of Scotty’s transporter experiments. Intra-ship beaming was more difficult than beaming onto a ship at warp; there was no transport receiver pad to land on, so no extra transporter buffer to manage your signal. The captain quickly took control of the situation while Sulu’s stomach bottomed out and his head began to spin. As the all-hands alert blared out and the ship’s company started to search every room of the ship for Chekov, all Sulu could do was think of Pavel’s pale, lifeless body drifting slowly through space, unnoticed and alone. Worse thoughts wormed their treacherous way into his mind: of Pavel’s molecules trying to rematerialise inside a bulkhead, and his beautiful, happy friend having his breath crushed from his lungs; of Pavel rematerialising in the water turbines and drowning, his lithe body bloated and swollen from the unforgiving liquid; of Pavel inside one of the dilithium crystal chambers dying of radiation poisoning, his curls fallen out, his creamy skin burnt red and cracked, his life flaking away with his skin. It was all Sulu could do not to lose control of his stomach on the bridge.
But the luck given to children, fools and ships called Enterprise had loaned itself to Chekov that day. He had rematerialised inside a Jefferies tube, the small crawlspaces that let the engineering and maintenance crews access the ship’s systems. He was cramped and contorted, but conscious and complaining when Spock, Sulu and Scotty managed to heave him out of the tube.
Embarrassment returned to Sulu as he collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs with Chekov in front of the bulk of the Enterprise’s command staff. Pavel, he would always be Pavel now, was clinging to him like a drowning man to a life raft. He managed to get him upright and started to walk him to sickbay, and if his hands were roaming to Pavel’s back, and ass, and thighs, well, it was hard to be supportive when your friend is trying to walk and climb you like a tree at the same time.
They were halfway there, Pavel babbling his thanks with hot gusts of breath down Sulu’s neck with every step, when the Enterprise rocked slightly and the yellow alert siren went off. Crew members began hustling through the corridors at speed, and Sulu knew that getting Pavel to safety was his first priority. The bridge had a helmsman and navigator, and Pavel needed him.
“Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?” he asked, over the noise of the siren.
“No,“ Pavel replied, rocking with the motion of the ship, pulling Sulu’s body into his. “I ache, but it’s not important.”
It was important, Sulu realised, moving them forward again into a crowded turbolift then out into the crew living quarters. Pavel being in pain was not a state of the universe that should exist. Sulu walked them into his quarters, and sealed the door behind them. He led Pavel over to the bed, and the younger man groaned in relief as he sat on the soft mattress. Through Sulu’s window he could see the faint blue energy crackle of the ship’s shields, and the vibrant pink and yellow gas clouds of the nebula burst forth with purple flames. The yellow alert klaxon subsided, and the Enterprise resumed its previous course. Commander Spock’s voice came over the comm unit to inform them that there was no danger, but that shields would remain up until they cleared the nebula.
“Do you still ache?” Sulu blurted, then coloured, embarrassed. Of course Pavel was still in pain, his mattress didn’t have magical analgesic qualities.
Pavel grinned, and replied “Yes, but is nothing that hot bath wouldn’t fix. Or good massage. But as I only have sonic shower in my quarters, and there is no masseuse on board, I will have to manage.”
Unbidden, and from some devilish part of him that bypassed his brain Sulu said quickly “I can massage you.”
Pavel blinked, and Sulu hurried to add, “I took a sports massage class as a medical service credit at the Academy. I know what I’m doing.”
‘I have no idea what I’m doing,' he thought.
Pavel blinked again, and smiled like all his Christmases had come at once.
“You would do that for me? Thank you, Sulu.” Then he pulled himself to his feet and eagerly began to take off the quilted fencing jacket he was wearing, and started to strip to his underwear. Sulu pulled his eyes away, and shook his own jacket off. He retrieved the bottle of almond oil from the bathroom cabinet, and returned to see Pavel laying face down in the middle of the bed, white skin contrasting against the standard issue black Starfleet sheets.
He moved towards the bed, and hesitated. The low bed was completely unlike the regulation massage tables in the classroom at the Academy. He was going to have to straddle Pavel if he was going to do it properly. Resolutely refusing to think about what he had just thought, he said aloud,
“I’m going to have to, um, get close to you for this to work.”
From the pillow of his arms, Pavel’s voice was muffled but understandable.
“Do whatever you have to, Sulu. I trust you.”
“Hikaru,” Sulu said as he climbed on the bed, straddled Pavel’s backside and started to warm the oil between his hands.
“Pardon?”
Pavel had lifted his head and tried to turn around to face Sulu, but stopped as a painful spasm in his back caused him to wince.
“Hikaru,” Sulu repeated as he gently manoeuvred Pavel back into place. “My name is Hikaru. If we’re going to be doing this, then I think we’re on first name terms.”
There was a snort from the younger man, and he replied without moving his head.
“Then you must call me Pavel, Hikaru.” He sounded out the strange syllables carefully, trying each one slowly, and Sulu had never been more grateful to be called by his first name.
He drizzled the warm oil down Pavel’s back, and started to gently search out the knots and sore spots. Sulu took his time, his hands gliding in strong, sweeping motions across the sore muscles. He could feel the tension start to drain from the younger man, and into himself. The low moans made by Pavel as Sulu’s deft fingers eased away the aches only served to turn Sulu on. He could feel himself growing harder as Pavel’s muscles loosened and relaxed. He shifted his position away from Pavel’s backside, trying to hide his reaction to Pavel’s voice and body. He had spent an age working away the knots from Pavel’s back and shoulders. Now for the front of his body. He could change position for that, away and to the side, and hope the black Starfleet issue sweatpants would hide his burgeoning erection.
“Turn over, Pavel.”
The back of Pavel’s neck suddenly blushed bright red.
“Thank you, I am fine like this,” he stammered.
Sulu blinked.
“I have to finish the job. I need to do your calf muscles. Roll over.”
“No!” blurted Pavel. “I mean, no, I am sorry, I cannot.”
Puzzled, Sulu asked “Why can’t you...” before enlightenment came in a flash. “Oh.”
Pavel was practically crimson; you could use him on the bridge as a red alert siren.
“I am sorry, I couldn’t help it, your hands were so strong,” he ground out. “I will leave.”
“No,“ said Sulu quickly, putting out his hands to keep Chekov on the bed, “it’s alright, Pavel. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m not offended.”
A small voice said “You’re not angry?”
Sulu laughed, and said, “I won’t be if you won’t.”
Chekov turned his body carefully to the side to look at Sulu.
“Why would I be angry?”
Sulu shifted slightly, and Chekov’s eyes widened.
“Oh. Oh. No,“ he stammered, “I am not angry. Far from.”
He looked up at Sulu with such desperation in his big blue eyes that Sulu couldn’t help but swoop down and cover Chekov’s mouth with his own. Chekov immediately clung onto him like a limpet, arching his back to rub his hardness along the length of Sulu’s own. They rolled desperately back and forth, Chekov grabbing at Sulu’s clothes and pulling at them chanting “Off, off off!” as Sulu reached a slicked hand into Chekov’s underwear. Between them they managed to strip each other completely, only cracking heads once and catching a stray elbow to the ribs twice. Sulu started to lightly bite and suck at Chekov’s nipples as he wrapped a firm hand around his long, slender cock and started to stroke and twist. Chekov lost control of his language and started to babble in what had to be Russian as he fisted Sulu’s hair with his hand to keep him in place. It didn’t take long for Chekov to come loudly and thoroughly over Sulu’s hand and sheets. Gasping for breath he pulled Sulu close for a fierce hug that lasted several long heartbeats until he skilfully flipped Sulu onto his back.
“I have never done this before,“ Chekov admitted, as he kissed his was down Sulu’s chest, licking his bellybutton, and nibbling at his inner thigh, “but I am told I am genius. Should not take me long to catch up.” Eyes twinkling, he lowered his mouth to cover Sulu, who groaned in pleasure as he entered the warm heat of Chekov’s enthusiastic mouth. Tongue twisting, sucking strongly, it did not take long for Chekov to coax an equally strong orgasm from Sulu.
They lay together, panting heavily, as the nebula continued to explode in counterpoint to their breathing.
“Hikaru?” asked Chekov quietly, as Sulu absently rubbed his hands up and down any exposed skin of Chekov’s he could find.
“Mmm?”
“Can we do this after every fencing lesson?”
Sulu laughed, and leaned in to kiss Chekov thoroughly, again.
“As long as you promise turn up to them, and not get caught up in any experiments again. “ He ran a hand through Chekov’s curls, tugging them gently. “You gave me a scare.”
“I’m sorry. No more experiments.“ Chekov yawned as he cuddled closer to Sulu. “Still, there was a happy ending, yes?”
Sulu, laughed, and then stopped as Chekov’s words sunk in.
“What did you mean when you said happy...”
Chekov’s gentle snores cut him off.
“I am told I am genius,” Sulu repeated fondly. “Sure are, kid.”
He supposed he should be embarrassed to have fallen so quickly for Chekov's not-very-subtle moves, but he couldn't find the energy.
Never mind. Something embarrassing was bound to happen tomorrow that would make up for it.
Author:
fringedwellerficRating: NC-17
Pairing: Chekov/Sulu, although Kirk/McCoy, Spock/Uhura and Scotty/Yeoman Rand mentioned in passing.
Warning: Smut. Oh, and I have no idea what colour Anton Yelchin's eyes are as a Google search gives me two different results. For my purposes, Chekov has blue eyes.
Type: Follow up to As You Were, Doctor, which is a Kirk/McCoy fic, but has a little Chekov/Sulu in it. You can read it alone, though.
Summary: It isn't until Chekov's gone that Sulu realises how much he needs him here.
When Hikaru Sulu had been told that he was to be the relief helmsman on board the newly built Enterprise, flagship of the fleet, he was honoured and a little overwhelmed. This was not the place for average abilities. To serve on the Enterprise meant you were the best of the best. His mother had been so proud, and every Sulu family member no matter how distant had received a copy of his graduation picture, stiff-backed and straight faced in his dress uniform, eyes beaming with ill-concealed excitement.
A pity then, that his primary experience so far had been of embarrassment.
A distress signal had been sent, the fleet was warping away, he was given the order to go and he had failed to take the handbrake off. Oh, how the embarrassment had burned. He had heard muted sniggers from the back of the bridge, and quiet murmurs between Captain Pike and Commander Spock. Only the Russian kid had been kind, rolling his expressive blue eyes and complaining about computers that didn’t understand accents. Laughing with Chekov had eased Sulu, until the Enterprise had dropped out of warp and all hell broke loose.
Volunteering for a suicide mission when the captain asks for officers with advanced hand to hand combat training sounds brave, sure. But sticking your hand in the air like you’re back in junior school? Not manly. Kirk’s eyeroll when discovering the fencing hadn’t been Sulu’s favourite memory of the day, either.
And now, several months into their first five year mission, Sulu was experiencing that embarrassment all over again. He liked Chekov; he did, really. Yes, he was a few years younger, and still had a few rough edges to be rubbed off him, but Chekov was fun. Everything was a new experience to the kid, and he was unflaggingly enthusiastic about everything. It was hard to be in a bad mood around him, and nearly impossible to stay in one. And just when he had you thinking he was a naïf, so young and green, he would perform some mathematical computation so difficult that even Spock looked impressed. Well, as impressed as Vulcans ever look, anyway. But just as Chekov was enthusiastic about diagnostic routines and navigational computations, he was also enthusiastic about Sulu. Ever since the footage of the space jump onto the drill and the subsequent fight had been retrieved from the Enterprise’s long range sensors and shown during the debriefing sessions at Starfleet Command, Chekov had looked at Sulu with awe and respect, and more than a little lust. As Chekov was as useless at hiding his emotions as he was with managing the letter v, the rest of the crew soon knew about it too.
Sulu was embarrassed, but oddly flattered. Being hero-worshipped was not a completely bad experience, and to be hero worshipped by someone with such pale, milky skin, and big blue eyes was actually kind of flattering, and it was this runaway freight train of thought that led to him promising to teach Chekov the basics of fencing as part of his eighteenth birthday present. He hadn’t known it was his new friend’s birthday until the computer announced it as part of the daily ship’s log. He was embarrassed because he had no gift to give Chekov until he could get to the replicator unit, but when he stammered out an offer to spend some time with Chekov later that day, you would have thought he had given Chekov his own moon. Then the captain had found out it was Chekov’s birthday, and ordered twelve hours shore leave between ferrying ambassadors around so he could complete the rite of passage known as “getting hammered on your eighteenth birthday”. Sulu had ended up dragging Chekov from the dive bar the captain had found into sickbay, where Chekov had lost the battle to keep down the contents of his stomach all over Dr.McCoy’s clean floor. McCoy had been good about it, for him, and just muttered obscenities about the captain loudly while getting Chekov detoxed. Apparently this was part of the rite of passage too, throwing up over a parental figure and passing out.
The fencing had been delayed until they had the same shift free, and Chekov had talked of nothing else all week, so it was a surprise that Chekov failed to turn up at the right time. Sulu waited for thirty minutes outside the holodeck, then started to quiz the computer about where he was. When Pavel didn’t answer the comm unit and the computer could not locate him at any work station, Sulu got worried and started to look.
The embarrassment factor had been high that night, as he interrupted what looked to be like the beginning of an...intimate interlude between the captain and Dr.McCoy. Then he had proceeded to interrupt whatever it was that Lieutenant Uhura and Commander Spock did whenever they were in...conference with each other. Then to top it off he had also managed to interrupt Scotty from celebrating a history-making event with the buxom Yeoman Rand. His growing unease about Chekov’s sudden disappearance was replaced with out and out horror when they discovered he was one of Scotty’s transporter experiments. Intra-ship beaming was more difficult than beaming onto a ship at warp; there was no transport receiver pad to land on, so no extra transporter buffer to manage your signal. The captain quickly took control of the situation while Sulu’s stomach bottomed out and his head began to spin. As the all-hands alert blared out and the ship’s company started to search every room of the ship for Chekov, all Sulu could do was think of Pavel’s pale, lifeless body drifting slowly through space, unnoticed and alone. Worse thoughts wormed their treacherous way into his mind: of Pavel’s molecules trying to rematerialise inside a bulkhead, and his beautiful, happy friend having his breath crushed from his lungs; of Pavel rematerialising in the water turbines and drowning, his lithe body bloated and swollen from the unforgiving liquid; of Pavel inside one of the dilithium crystal chambers dying of radiation poisoning, his curls fallen out, his creamy skin burnt red and cracked, his life flaking away with his skin. It was all Sulu could do not to lose control of his stomach on the bridge.
But the luck given to children, fools and ships called Enterprise had loaned itself to Chekov that day. He had rematerialised inside a Jefferies tube, the small crawlspaces that let the engineering and maintenance crews access the ship’s systems. He was cramped and contorted, but conscious and complaining when Spock, Sulu and Scotty managed to heave him out of the tube.
Embarrassment returned to Sulu as he collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs with Chekov in front of the bulk of the Enterprise’s command staff. Pavel, he would always be Pavel now, was clinging to him like a drowning man to a life raft. He managed to get him upright and started to walk him to sickbay, and if his hands were roaming to Pavel’s back, and ass, and thighs, well, it was hard to be supportive when your friend is trying to walk and climb you like a tree at the same time.
They were halfway there, Pavel babbling his thanks with hot gusts of breath down Sulu’s neck with every step, when the Enterprise rocked slightly and the yellow alert siren went off. Crew members began hustling through the corridors at speed, and Sulu knew that getting Pavel to safety was his first priority. The bridge had a helmsman and navigator, and Pavel needed him.
“Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?” he asked, over the noise of the siren.
“No,“ Pavel replied, rocking with the motion of the ship, pulling Sulu’s body into his. “I ache, but it’s not important.”
It was important, Sulu realised, moving them forward again into a crowded turbolift then out into the crew living quarters. Pavel being in pain was not a state of the universe that should exist. Sulu walked them into his quarters, and sealed the door behind them. He led Pavel over to the bed, and the younger man groaned in relief as he sat on the soft mattress. Through Sulu’s window he could see the faint blue energy crackle of the ship’s shields, and the vibrant pink and yellow gas clouds of the nebula burst forth with purple flames. The yellow alert klaxon subsided, and the Enterprise resumed its previous course. Commander Spock’s voice came over the comm unit to inform them that there was no danger, but that shields would remain up until they cleared the nebula.
“Do you still ache?” Sulu blurted, then coloured, embarrassed. Of course Pavel was still in pain, his mattress didn’t have magical analgesic qualities.
Pavel grinned, and replied “Yes, but is nothing that hot bath wouldn’t fix. Or good massage. But as I only have sonic shower in my quarters, and there is no masseuse on board, I will have to manage.”
Unbidden, and from some devilish part of him that bypassed his brain Sulu said quickly “I can massage you.”
Pavel blinked, and Sulu hurried to add, “I took a sports massage class as a medical service credit at the Academy. I know what I’m doing.”
‘I have no idea what I’m doing,' he thought.
Pavel blinked again, and smiled like all his Christmases had come at once.
“You would do that for me? Thank you, Sulu.” Then he pulled himself to his feet and eagerly began to take off the quilted fencing jacket he was wearing, and started to strip to his underwear. Sulu pulled his eyes away, and shook his own jacket off. He retrieved the bottle of almond oil from the bathroom cabinet, and returned to see Pavel laying face down in the middle of the bed, white skin contrasting against the standard issue black Starfleet sheets.
He moved towards the bed, and hesitated. The low bed was completely unlike the regulation massage tables in the classroom at the Academy. He was going to have to straddle Pavel if he was going to do it properly. Resolutely refusing to think about what he had just thought, he said aloud,
“I’m going to have to, um, get close to you for this to work.”
From the pillow of his arms, Pavel’s voice was muffled but understandable.
“Do whatever you have to, Sulu. I trust you.”
“Hikaru,” Sulu said as he climbed on the bed, straddled Pavel’s backside and started to warm the oil between his hands.
“Pardon?”
Pavel had lifted his head and tried to turn around to face Sulu, but stopped as a painful spasm in his back caused him to wince.
“Hikaru,” Sulu repeated as he gently manoeuvred Pavel back into place. “My name is Hikaru. If we’re going to be doing this, then I think we’re on first name terms.”
There was a snort from the younger man, and he replied without moving his head.
“Then you must call me Pavel, Hikaru.” He sounded out the strange syllables carefully, trying each one slowly, and Sulu had never been more grateful to be called by his first name.
He drizzled the warm oil down Pavel’s back, and started to gently search out the knots and sore spots. Sulu took his time, his hands gliding in strong, sweeping motions across the sore muscles. He could feel the tension start to drain from the younger man, and into himself. The low moans made by Pavel as Sulu’s deft fingers eased away the aches only served to turn Sulu on. He could feel himself growing harder as Pavel’s muscles loosened and relaxed. He shifted his position away from Pavel’s backside, trying to hide his reaction to Pavel’s voice and body. He had spent an age working away the knots from Pavel’s back and shoulders. Now for the front of his body. He could change position for that, away and to the side, and hope the black Starfleet issue sweatpants would hide his burgeoning erection.
“Turn over, Pavel.”
The back of Pavel’s neck suddenly blushed bright red.
“Thank you, I am fine like this,” he stammered.
Sulu blinked.
“I have to finish the job. I need to do your calf muscles. Roll over.”
“No!” blurted Pavel. “I mean, no, I am sorry, I cannot.”
Puzzled, Sulu asked “Why can’t you...” before enlightenment came in a flash. “Oh.”
Pavel was practically crimson; you could use him on the bridge as a red alert siren.
“I am sorry, I couldn’t help it, your hands were so strong,” he ground out. “I will leave.”
“No,“ said Sulu quickly, putting out his hands to keep Chekov on the bed, “it’s alright, Pavel. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m not offended.”
A small voice said “You’re not angry?”
Sulu laughed, and said, “I won’t be if you won’t.”
Chekov turned his body carefully to the side to look at Sulu.
“Why would I be angry?”
Sulu shifted slightly, and Chekov’s eyes widened.
“Oh. Oh. No,“ he stammered, “I am not angry. Far from.”
He looked up at Sulu with such desperation in his big blue eyes that Sulu couldn’t help but swoop down and cover Chekov’s mouth with his own. Chekov immediately clung onto him like a limpet, arching his back to rub his hardness along the length of Sulu’s own. They rolled desperately back and forth, Chekov grabbing at Sulu’s clothes and pulling at them chanting “Off, off off!” as Sulu reached a slicked hand into Chekov’s underwear. Between them they managed to strip each other completely, only cracking heads once and catching a stray elbow to the ribs twice. Sulu started to lightly bite and suck at Chekov’s nipples as he wrapped a firm hand around his long, slender cock and started to stroke and twist. Chekov lost control of his language and started to babble in what had to be Russian as he fisted Sulu’s hair with his hand to keep him in place. It didn’t take long for Chekov to come loudly and thoroughly over Sulu’s hand and sheets. Gasping for breath he pulled Sulu close for a fierce hug that lasted several long heartbeats until he skilfully flipped Sulu onto his back.
“I have never done this before,“ Chekov admitted, as he kissed his was down Sulu’s chest, licking his bellybutton, and nibbling at his inner thigh, “but I am told I am genius. Should not take me long to catch up.” Eyes twinkling, he lowered his mouth to cover Sulu, who groaned in pleasure as he entered the warm heat of Chekov’s enthusiastic mouth. Tongue twisting, sucking strongly, it did not take long for Chekov to coax an equally strong orgasm from Sulu.
They lay together, panting heavily, as the nebula continued to explode in counterpoint to their breathing.
“Hikaru?” asked Chekov quietly, as Sulu absently rubbed his hands up and down any exposed skin of Chekov’s he could find.
“Mmm?”
“Can we do this after every fencing lesson?”
Sulu laughed, and leaned in to kiss Chekov thoroughly, again.
“As long as you promise turn up to them, and not get caught up in any experiments again. “ He ran a hand through Chekov’s curls, tugging them gently. “You gave me a scare.”
“I’m sorry. No more experiments.“ Chekov yawned as he cuddled closer to Sulu. “Still, there was a happy ending, yes?”
Sulu, laughed, and then stopped as Chekov’s words sunk in.
“What did you mean when you said happy...”
Chekov’s gentle snores cut him off.
“I am told I am genius,” Sulu repeated fondly. “Sure are, kid.”
He supposed he should be embarrassed to have fallen so quickly for Chekov's not-very-subtle moves, but he couldn't find the energy.
Never mind. Something embarrassing was bound to happen tomorrow that would make up for it.