By P. B. Wrapper



"It is bizarre," Lieutenant Chekov said, turning the pages of the briefing document that had been supplied to them by the other party in the negotiations, the Gnugl.

"Seems pretty straightforward to me," a newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Sulu said. "Look, Legal have summarised the main points..."

"No, I mean, it is bizarre that the Enterprise carries around a legal department of eight, and yet when a crucial treaty is about to be drafted, they send a helmsman and a security officer to carry out the negotiations."

"That's not bizarre," Sulu said. "That's the Gnugl trying to be clever, and Starfleet beating them at their own game. It doesn't really matter who Starfleet sends. The details have all been hammered out behind the scenes. The whole 'make a stand now, give way here, win a vital trick there' final showdown has been scripted to the last sip of water. The point is, they wanted Captain Kirk on the team, so they could boast about it to their enemies, the Beest."

"But you are not Captain Kirk."

"Well spotted, Lieutenant. They couldn't ask for the captain, because to name him would give him too much kudos, and too much leverage in the negotiations. He might have been able to depart from the script. So they specified someone who had to fit certain criteria. Hero of Battle with Kor, Veteran of Omicron 3, etc, etc. Since the Gnugl don't distinguish between the definite and indefinite article, they've
got 'a' hero, when what they really wanted was 'the' hero. They've also got someone with just enough rank not to be a slap in the face, and little enough rank to keep their big heads from exploding."

"I see," Chekov said, although he didn't sound like he did. "And me?" He waited to see if Sulu would say anything flattering about his own stripe of virgin braid.

"You're here to be a security officer. The Beest still have an interest in killing me before I can sign anything, even if I am only 'a' hero."

Chekov patted his sidearm reassuringly. "So I am not required to take part in the negotiations?"

"Absolutely not. They'd be horribly insulted. You don't have enough rank." Sulu noted his friend's irritated expression. "But of course, I'd be most grateful for any observations you want to make privately."

Chekov nodded, just as the huge triple doors into the state apartments swumg open. The Gnugl rose to their feet as one woman to greet their guests.

Chekov shot a look at Sulu. "I see why they wanted the captain," he said out of the corner of his mouth, before taking up a subservient position one pace behind the commander and following him into
the room.

The Gnugl were naked. They were adorned with precious jewellery, subtle cosmetics and fantastic coiffeurs. A miasma of sexual secretions hung like fog in the air. They licked their lips and smoothed their hands down hips shaped like lyres.

"Oh, God," Sulu said softly.

Half an hour later, the negotiations had been almost completely derailed.

Sulu was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. One of the nearer women leaned over and helpfully plumped the cushions behind him. Some of her colleagues were openly caressing themselves, their eyes locked on Sulu's, breathing through open mouths, their skin flushed.

Chekov leaned over and nudged his superior. "I think we need a comfort break, sir."

"A... what?"

"I need to visit the restroom."

"Oh. Right."

"My orders are to remain with you at all times."

Sulu blinked like a man whose brain has been occupied by aliens.

"Tell them," Chekov prompted. "Now."

Their excuses made, the two men escaped into a luxuriously appointed restroom. Sulu shut his eyes. "Wow."

"Commander. I think you need to... do something to reduce the tension."

It took Sulu a few seconds to work out what he meant. "In here?" The restroom wasn't equipped with stalls.

Chekov took out his tricorder. "No surveillance," he reported. "Yes. I will turn my back."

"What if a Beeste bursts out of a concealed door?" Sulu asked, trying to cover his embarrassment with humour.

Chekov shrugged. "Knock it over with the quarterstaff  you are apparently concealing in your uniform, Commander."

Sulu turned his own back. Chekov heard him freeing himself with a sigh of relief.

"If I hear one word about this back on the ship," he muttered, loud enough to be sure Chekov would hear, "you're borscht, Mister."


For a while after their return, the negotiations favoured the Federation, but the effect was short lived. Chekov watched disbelievingly as Sulu's uniform began to tent again, and he conceded first one vital principle to the Gnugl, and then a second.

The lieutenant refilled his water glass and tipped the contents down his throat. If he was going to have to make repeated requests to be excused, the least he could do was provide corroborating evidence.
"Commander..."

"Yes. Me too."


"What the hell am I going to do?" Sulu wailed, as the door clicked shut behind them. "That blonde one was practically climaxing every time I said anything."

"Ignore them," Chekov said pragmatically.

"Isn't this having any effect on you?" Sulu demanded. "I can't believe that."

"I am a trained security officer. I know how to resist, for example, female prisoners who try to win my sympathy in dishonourable ways."

Sulu looked decidedly sceptical.

"Okay," the Russian admitted, "but they are completely ignoring me, and that is a serious turn off."

"You mean if I ignore them, they might stop?" Sulu asked hopefully.

"I don't think so."

"So what the hell am I going to do?"

"What you did before."

"It's not enough, Pavel. They're all signalling 'come get me' at me, and my cock wants to jump in there and make them all pregnant before they change their minds."

"It's your cock. Tell it to behave itself."

"I don't think I can. It's not used to this kind of... stimulation."

"If you climax again..."

"That's not the point. Even if I wasn't physically responding, I'd still mentally want to. I still wouldn't be able to fucking think of anything fucking else."

Chekov frowned. "How would fucking something else help?"

"That's not what I said," Sulu groaned. Then he did a double take. "Maybe it would, though. If I actually fucked something else..."

Chekov glanced around the restroom. "I did hear a story once about a senior officer whose penis became trapped in a bathroom fawcet. I suppose if you were stuck in here, I would have to take your place..."

"And they'd immediately start drooling over you. No, that's not what I mean. Pavel, I've always suspected I'm slightly bi-sexual..."

"How does that help us?" Chekov asked on cue. "If you could develop a monomania for overweight dwarves in wet suits..."

"I could fuck you," Sulu said impatiently.

Chekov frowned.

"The future of this sector of the galaxy is at stake here, Pavel. Didn't your security officer's training teach you to be flexible?"

"Not once I had passed through the initiation rituals, no," Chekov answered somewhat coldly.

The door opened a fraction, and a low, female voice cooed, "We're waiting, Hikaru, darling."

"Two minutes," Sulu gasped. "Okay, Chekov? Look, there's some hand cream or something here..."

"Why can't you just... do it with one of the Gnugl?" Chekov asked desperately.

"No, that would utterly destroy my credibility.  That's another reason they didn't want to send the captain. I have to fuck you, Chekov. It's the only option, and I'll make it a direct order if necessary."

Recognising that his colleague was on the verge of hysteria, Chekov resignedly grabbed a towel to cushion his knees and got down on the floor, sliding his pants down over his hips at the same time.

"So they're having no effect on you," Sulu said sarcastically. "That has to be the biggest 'no effect' I've ever seen."

"It's a  purely physical response," Chekov snapped. "Get on with it before I change my mind."

"You're not going to change your mind," Sulu instructed, extracting a handful of soap from a dispenser and kneeling between Chekov's feet. He hesitated. "You have done this before?"

"Not for fun."

"You're not doing it for fun now," Sulu reminded him, applying the soap gently between the rounded cheeks of his colleague's ass. As he focused on the task, it occurred to him that it was a pretty cute ass.  "Neither of us," he reminded himself, "is doing this for fun."

He absent-mindedly reached forward to grasp Chekov's erection in his left hand as the fingers of the right gently eased the soapy opening in front of him.

"Commander..."

"Oh. Sorry." Sulu placed the offending hand firmly on the floor. "Ready?"

"I don't know. How does it look from back there?"

"Well, kind of... inviting."


"Again?" Chekov hissed disbelievingly. They were still making progress, regaining the ground they'd lost before coupling furiously an hour earlier.

"I don't want to start making mistakes again. Let's try to stay on top of this..."

"I am sorry, Commander. I am not willing to be made use of as a preventative measure. Besides... it's still stinging."

"Pav..." Sulu whined softly. "Please. That brunette... look at the way
her tits move when she..."

"I prefer not to." Chekov pushed the page of the treaty which they were supposed to be considering under Sulu's nose. "Subsection 146." He tapped it with a finger.

The commander sighed. He crossed his legs and uncrossed them again.

The Starfleet officers were not the only ones experiencing discomfort and frustration. It was apparent that the Gnugl were well aware that something was going wrong with their strategy. Their leader rose suddenly to her feet. "I think we should break for lunch."

"An excellent idea," Chekov declared. "Commander, we should... freshen up."


They were barely within the privacy of the restroom, when Sulu made a grab for the lieutenant.

"What are you...."

"You said we should 'freshen up'," Sulu said. "I thought you meant..."

"I meant, that since the alternative wasn't significantly more effective, you should masturbate again."

"No. No, Pavel. You don't understand. It was much, much more effective. I was doing much, much better. It's only just beginning to wear off. If we fuck now, and again after lunch, I might be able to get through to the end of today's session without... without any more help."

"They will simply do their best to seduce you over lunch. They will probably serve Gnugl oysters, and they'll all choose Gnugl bananas for dessert."

"Oh, God," Sulu said.

Chekov went to the door. Sulu heard him asking for lunch to be sent in. "We're eating in the restroom?" he asked worriedly.

"I told them you were tired."

"What's that got to..."

"Well, if you Americans are going to call a bathroom a 'rest' room... And I asked for butter."

"You asked for... Why d'you ask for butter?"

"Because, Commander, the soap contains irritants. And I do not wish to become any more irritated. One of us must remain in control of his reactions."

Sulu groaned. "Pav, you're being a hero."

"That is not what my mother would call it," Chekov said, before opening the door to admit a Gnugl beauty clad in a frilly white micro apron and bearing a luncheon tray.

"They've been downloading stuff from my vid collection," Sulu moaned, as she bent over to deposit the tray on a low wooden bench.

"Can I do anything else for you, Hikaru?" she purred.  "Anything... personal?"

"No. Thank  you," he hissed through clenched teeth.

She opened wide, wide, blue eyes, fringed with lashes the colour of copper sulphate. "Are you sure?"

"The commander is absolutely, one hundred per cent certain," Chekov barked. "Please leave us."

Her lips formed into a perfect cupid's bow in baby pink. Her ass wiggled as she exited.

"Chekov, get undressed. Now."

Chekov began reluctantly to comply with the order. "Can we at least take it a little more slowly this time?"

"Are you joking? Of course we can. It's my fourth time today..."

"You had already..?"

"I was warned they might try something like this."

"And you did not think to pass on this vital information to your security team?"

"I'm sorry. It didn't seem like exactly a 'security' issue. I'll take it slower. I promise."

"The butter."

"Oh, yes."

"Sulu, it really does help if you use your fingers first."

"Sorry."

"You promised!"

"I know but... oh, you have no idea how good that feels. That is wonderful, that is...  Oh. Heaven. Oh. You're so tight and hot, Pavel, you know that?"

"Less... pillow talk... please."

"Right. Pav! Gods! Aaaah."

"I thought you were a buddhist," Chekov said calmly, once Sulu had rolled off him, and was lying on his back, staring sleepily at the ceiling.

"No. But you can't yell out 'underlying unity of the cosmos' as you climax."

"No. I see that."

"Did the butter help?"

"I am currently completely numb."

Sulu sat up, concerned. Chekov was still lying flat on the floor, the position he'd adopted when his arms had given way under Sulu's climactic thrusts.  He had turned his head to one side, and Sulu knew that when he moved, he'd have a detailed impression of the mosaic floor engraved on his cheek.

"You okay, kid?" The affectionate term slipped out accidentally. Sulu hadn't used it since Chekov had taken the opportunity to demonstrate to him some of the new unarmed combat skills he'd been learning
as a security cadet.

"Peachy," Chekov said without moving, but with scathing irony. "I need a towel."

"Okay."

"And don't call me 'kid'."

"Sorry. Slip of the tongue." Sulu plucked a towel off a heated rail and held it out above Chekov's head.

"What have they given us for lunch?" Chekov asked in a conversational tone that didn't fool Sulu for a moment.

"Why don't you go over there and take a look for yourself."

Chekov sighed. He rolled over. He was rigid.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Look, I'll... I'll stare out of the window while you take care of that."

"Right."

Sulu wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. "Did I just say the wrong thing?"

"Commander, in this situation, I am not sure there is a right thing."

The red lines on Chekov's face were like an exotic tattoo. His hair was trailing damply into his eyes, and sweat beaded his upper lip. Suddenly uncomfortable, he snatched the proffered towel and stood up.

"No, probably not. What if I were to say... shall I take care of that?"

"Why should you?" Chekov asked coldly.

"It will help you to keep your mind on helping me keep my mind on the treaty. And... you could think of it like a thank you."

"I am only doing... my duty." Chekov leaned with one palm flat on the wall and closed his eyes as he began to stimulate himself vigorously.

Sulu watched him flush darker across the shoulders, bowing his head lower as he concentrated on the task. As his arousal peaked, his muscles firmed into perfect definition. A moment later, a surge of white moisture splattered onto the polished tiles. The lieutenant grunted and bent to pick up the towel and clean up the mess.

"Let me," Sulu said, pushing him aside and taking over the task. "Go shower, and see if there's alcohol in that decanter, and if it's dilute enough that we can risk drinking it."

As Chekov inspected the tray, and began pouring the ivory coloured liquid into two glasses, Sulu moved up behind him. "Pavel..."

"Yes?"

"I think we need to do it again after lunch if we can..."

"If you can."

"Yeah, well, without the lovely Gnugl ladies to concentrate my mind... I might have a little difficulty. "

Chekov snorted sarcastically.

"Unless you could help a little..."

"Oh, no. I am not performing some.... some striptease, or..."

"Well, I'm kind of surprised, but watching you jerk off was pretty hot."

Chekov spun round, spilling the contents of both glasses. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing. Just that... I hadn't realised that I could find you so sexy. You're a rather... sexy guy."

Chekov grabbed a plate of suggestively constructed canapes and pushed it into Sulu's hands. "Keep up your strength, Commander. You will need it."

"Don't exaggerate. If we keep on course, we'll be leaving here within twenty four hours. I think I can..."

"You will need your strength when I find an excuse to lure you into the ship's gym and beat you to a pulp."

"Oh."

They ate lunch, ignoring its erotic pretensions, in silence.  Chekov paced the room as he ate. Sulu sat cross legged on the floor. Neither spread any of the remaining butter on the bread or biscuits that accompanied the meal.

Sulu wondered why. Was butter forever tainted in their perception, or were they simply saving it for later? He glanced at his wrist-chron. According to the agreed agenda, lunch should last no more than fifty minutes. Thirty seven had already elapsed. He looked down at his sleeping cock. No reaction. He thought about the most captivating of the Gnugl ladies. No reaction. He recalled the image of Chekov, taut and damp, straining to climax. His cock stirred lazily.

He looked at the lieutenant out of slitted eyes. His timing was bad. Chekov had just turned at the far wall, and was looking at him.

"Would... you know... would another position be more comfortable for you, d'you think?"

"If I am honest," Chekov said frankly, "I think I will scream if you insert even a very small finger."

"That bad, huh?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I am sorry..."

"It's not your fault."

Chekov shrugged. "Do you think that fellatio would be effective?"

"Do I... Are you offering to...."

"Since I am incapable..."

"Pav, you don't have to make a martyr out of yourself over this. If you can't, you can't. I mean... you've done all you can."

"No." To Sulu's surprise, Chekov was almost smiling. "I think I can do a little more."

"Are you really sure?"

"Well..." Chekov drew out the pause until it threatened to snap. "Jerking off in front of you was surprisingly hot."

"Oh," Sulu said. "I mean..."

"So if you are willing..."

"Of course I'm willing. Hold on while I wash..."


The Gnugl ladies began to quarrel amongst themselves. By mid afternoon, half the delegation had stormed out of the conference chamber. Sulu ticked off another vital concession and looked across with affection at his security team. Before breakfast tomorrow, after breakfast, after the purely ceremonial acceptance of a Gnugl icon of valour, on behalf of the crew of the Enterprise...

His communicator trilled. Muttering his apologies to the ladies, he flipped it open.

"Yes, Captain. Yes. Exactly as planned. Chekov?" He smiled.   "Lieutenant Chekov, with my permission, is asleep."