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A Matter of Competition

By Skazitelnitsky

There was a plus and minus side to Pavel Chekov's size when it came to drinking. The minus was that there was a slightly more limited than average amount of alcohol his body could absorb before he was too intoxicated to walk. The plus side was that being so small meant there was usually someone around who could pick him up and carry him back to the ship when this happened.

"Just put him down on his bed," Sulu directed Don Dombrowski, a lieutenant from Security who had been among those with whom they'd gone on shore leave.

"Here we go," Dombrowski said, easily lifting the unconscious ensign from his shoulder and draping him gently across his bunk.

The ensign made a groaning noise as his head hit the mattress but didn't rouse. Sulu knelt to pull his boots off.

"Looks like Personnel has already cleaned the place out," Dombrowski observed, surveying the half-empty quarters with the detachment of someone who had somewhere else much more important to be. "Tough luck about Zaslow buying it."

"Yeah," Sulu replied, working on the second boot.

That was the reason why Chekov had gone drinking with them. The ensign's roommate Ensign Zaslow had been killed in Engineering during a recent encounter with a hostile alien. It was an unfortunate reality of life in Star Fleet that one often lost roommates in this rather unpleasant way. This was the first time it had happened to Chekov, though.

"Boy, that little son of a bitch can drink," Dombrowski commented as the Enterprise's helmsman continued to struggle with his friend's boots.

"I've got him, Don," Sulu said. "You can go back now if you want to."

"Have you got him?" Dombrowski repeated, being very cautious to not sound relieved.

"Yeah," Sulu answered, wishing that he didn't. "You going back to the planet?"

"You bet your ass," Dombrowski said flatly and then turned to leave with no further formalities.

"Tell Gina I'll just be..." Sulu broke off as the door closed behind the lieutenant. "...a few more minutes..."

He looked back at Chekov and sighed. It wasn't the ensign's fault. Chekov would have stayed on the ship and drunk himself into a stupor alone if Sulu hadn't invited him along down the to planet... with the Warp Four club.

That was the mistake. Sulu knew this now. That had been the mistake.

The Warp Four club was a very loose affiliation of Enterprise officers of a certain age who had developed a fondness for a semi-legal recreational drug called delandremene -- a relatively mild stimulant and aphrodisiac. When the ship passed a planet where this substance was freely available, the members of the Warp Four club would meet for drinks and partaking of their favorite substance and then would go off in pairs or larger groups to enjoy the side effects.

"Why didn't I tell Sherry no?" Sulu asked the still unconscious ensign as he pulled off Chekov's shirt.

The lieutenant knew the answer to this question. It pointed to the larger problem at work here. Chekov could have sat and drank with the Warp Four club and gone home wondering why everyone had seemed to disappear and been none the wiser. However, the ensign, being distraught about his roommate's demise, had quickly progressed to the morose/weepy/argumentative phase of vodka saturation and was as Lt. Sherry Watkins put it, "Ruining everyone's buzz." Sulu was judgement impaired enough to agree when she'd asked if it would be all right to spike Chekov's drink with generous glop of delandremene.

The drug and vodka were not a good mix. After downing three shots, Chekov's eyes crossed and the ensign fell face forward onto the table. The Warp Four Club's member from Medical pronounced the effect non-lethal and gave his professional opinion that Chekov should not be sent to Sickbay because a) it wasn't necessary and b) if McCoy got one whiff of delandremene on the breath of anyone carrying the ensign in, the collective asses of the entire club were very likely to end up in a sling. It was unanimously decided that Chekov should be taken back to his quarters by the man who had invited him -- Sulu. So now, instead of watching the submarine races on Malandro VI's beautiful beachfront botanical gardens with Lt. Gina Siscosi, Sulu now found himself staring rather fixedly at Pavel Chekov's bare chest.

"Snap out of it," he said to himself.

As if he'd interpreted the command as being directed towards him instead, Chekov's eyes fluttered open. "Sulu."

"It's okay, Pavel." The lieutenant tried to pull the cover up. "You're back on the Enterprise. Just go to sleep."

"I've got to take a shower." The ensign lurched to his feet.

"No, wait." Sulu grabbed Chekov in time to keep his friend from reeling into a wall. "You can do that in the morning."

"No, no..." The ensign shrugged him off, then stripped off his pants with a disconcerting lack of modesty.

"Disconcerting," Sulu thought, unable to stop staring. "Discon-fucking-certing."

"I smell like a..." Unable to think of an appropriate ending for his sentence, Chekov turned and gestured for the lieutenant to supply a word.

Sulu blinked and tried to look at the ensign's face. "Brewery."

"Distillery," Chekov corrected, supporting himself against first one wall then the other as he half-walked, half-fell his way to the shower.

"Disconcerting," Sulu repeated aloud, mesmerized by the alternating front and back views of his friend's body with no thought of helping him. "Dis-con-fucking-certing."

The ensign was inside the unit and half-done with his shower before Sulu shook himself out of his trance.

"Robe," he said, heading for the closet. "He'll need a robe."

"What happened?" Chekov asked when the unit deactivated.

Thankfully the ensign didn't offer any resistance when the lieutenant held out the bathrobe for him. "You passed out."

Chekov snorted as he tied the sash and turned to look at himself in the mirror. "Don't be silly."

Even after his shower, the ensign was so alcohol saturated that he gave off a faintly medicinal odor. "Okay, if you didn't pass out," Sulu challenged, crossing his arms, "then do you remember how you got back to the ship?"

Chekov froze in the middle of brushing his bangs out with his fingers, momentarily stumped. He turned towards the lieutenant and studied his companion's face intently.

The bathroom was less than three feet wide. Sulu was close enough to feel heat radiating off the other man's freshly bathed body.

"I know," the ensign said, his sweetest, most dimpled smile suddenly breaking over his features. "You brought me, didn't you?"

With no warning or hesitation, the ensign closed the tiny space separating them and kissed the lieutenant on both cheeks.

Sulu tried to keep his composure and remember that in Chekov's culture this was just a simple gesture that men routinely shared.

Instead of moving on, Chekov put his hands on the lieutenant's shoulders and gave Sulu's lips a moment of serious contemplation before kissing them as well.

This, to the best of Sulu's knowledge of Russian culture, was not standard practice.

Chekov kept his eyes open and fastened questioningly on the lieutenant's as he continued to give him patient, mildly insistent kisses. Sulu had never noticed what a rich chocolaty brown the navigator's eyes were or the way they turned up ever so slightly at the corners or how long his eyelashes were. He let his mouth drop open a little in response to the gentle pressure from Chekov's strong soft lips.

The ensign's full lashes closed prettily over his lovely eyes as Sulu explored the inside of the navigator's pleasingly wide, warm mouth. The lieutenant let his hands rest lightly on the ensign's hips as Chekov slid his arms around Sulu's neck.

When the lieutenant withdrew his tongue and allowed the ensign his turn at playing the aggressor, Sulu was impressed enough with the other officer's expertise to feel a little jealous. Only one man in a hundred had the right combination of passion, perfectionism, and lack of inhibition to kiss that well.

"And to think," Sulu thought as Chekov left his mouth and headed down his neck, "I used to wonder what Martha Landon saw in him."

It was not until he realized the destination for which the navigator had plotted a course that the lieutenant was able to pull himself out of his stupor.

"Okay, Chekov," he said, pulling away and taking the ensign by the shoulders. "C'mon now. You need to go to bed."

"Bed?" the ensign repeated blankly.

"Yeah." Sulu firmly turned the younger man around and guided him out of the bathroom. "You've had your shower like you wanted. Now you need to go to bed."

The ensign was still unsteady on his feet as he uncomplainingly allowed himself to be herded to his bunk. He sat down, then turned his round eyes up to the lieutenant with an expression as piteous as an abandoned three-year-old. "You aren't going to leave me here alone, are you, Sulu?"

The lieutenant suppressed with difficulty an urge to take the ensign in his arms and kiss away the glistening of half-formed tears. The first night alone in a half-empty room was the worst. When a new roommate moved in, the pain would start to subside, but Sulu wouldn't wish spending a night alone in this room on his worst enemy, let alone on a young man whom he was having extremely tender feelings for at the moment.... Damned delandremene! If he could have trusted himself, Sulu would have readily stayed and occupied that conspicuously empty bed.

The lieutenant bit his lip and looked at the other bunk. If they both stayed on their own sides of the room... At least until Chekov could drift off to sleep...

Sulu completely missed the crafty look that stole over the ensign's face and failed to be alerted when Chekov slid forward one hand and one foot. He was caught completely off guard when the navigator pulled him off balance and tripped him so that he fell onto the Russian's bunk.

Chekov grinned delightedly as he rolled on top of Sulu and pinned him to the mattress. "Now you have to stay," he said, lowering his mouth to the lieutenant's again.

"No, no," Sulu mumbled against the kisses. "I can't."

"Oh, Sulu, please," Chekov pleaded, tenderly brushing the lieutenant's hair away from his forehead. "Please, I don't want to be alone tonight."

"I know, I know, but..." Sulu's response was interrupted when the ensign decided to kiss the lieutenant's throat rather than listen.

Sulu closed his eyes and mustered all his resolve. "Listen to me, Chekov," he said, pushing the ensign up by the shoulders. "Do you know what delandremene is?"

The ensign blinked. "An artificially produced substance," he recited automatically. "used as a recreational drug, though banned on 64% of all Federation planets. Base components are..."

"It's an aphrodisiac," Sulu interrupted. "You've had a little of it tonight and I... I've had a lot."

Chekov frowned. "When did I..?"

"You didn't," Sulu admitted. "Someone slipped a little in your drink."

"Oh."

Sulu could tell that despite the critical importance of this topic, the ensign was already losing interest. "And that's why I can't stay," he explained emphasizing each word carefully. "I can't be responsible for what I might do."

A slow, absolutely enchanting grin spread slowly across the ensign's face. "Really?"

"And you're not exactly ..." Sulu tried to ignore the increasingly unignorable pressure of the other man's hips on his. "I mean I don't think you're... I think your judgement is pretty impaired right now too."

"If we're so drunk," Chekov leaned down and whispered seductively in his ear, "then what the hell? Yes? We won't even remember any of this tomorrow."

"Chekov," Sulu warned sternly pulling the ensign up by the shoulders, "if I do to you what I'm thinking of doing to you right now, you are going to remember this into your next three incarnations."

The ensign grinned like an imp. "Mmmmm," he said, eagerly grinding his hips into Sulu's.

"Come on now," Sulu insisted soberly, trying to roll out from under him. "Come on, get off me. I've got to go now."

"Oh, Sulu!" Chekov clung to him. "Please, please, don't go! Please don't leave me alone."

"Chekov," Sulu protested, but it was hard to say no to those eyes at this range.

"Please, I'll be good," the ensign promised earnestly. "Just stay until I go to sleep. Please?"

"Okay," Sulu relented. "But just until you go to sleep. And you have to get off me."

"Okay." The ensign snuggled happily against his side.

"Okay, then." Sulu put his arm around the younger man's shoulders and allowed the Russian to rest his head against his chest. "Go to sleep."

Chekov obediently lay still for about half a minute before turning his face up towards the lieutenant. "Thank you for staying," he said, reaching up to caress Sulu's cheek affectionately.

"Oh, Pavel," Sulu began, but was too charmed to scold him. He lifted the ensign's fingers off his face, but kissed them before returning them to his side. "You've never even done anything like this before, have you?"

"Done anything like what?" the Russian asked innocently.

"Been with a man," Sulu explained gently. "You're strictly a girls-only type guy, right?"

"Well.." Chekov smiled and blushed. "There was one time... I was just a boy, less than twelve, maybe no more than ten..."

"Pavel," Sulu interrupted, "don't tell me anything you wouldn't tell me if you were sober."

"Oh, no. This is an innocent story," Chekov assured him, then reconsidered, "Well, at least this version of it. You see, I had a friend... No, actually we were enemies. Our parents were friends. They lived near us until his father was transferred to another system and they moved away, .... Maybe two years... Mitya and I were almost the same age. He was older.... Maybe twelve or thirteen... And we always argued... Everything was a competition between us."

Chekov broke off, lost in his own memory for a moment.

"You didn't like him?" Sulu asked.

"He didn't like me. He would call me 'Pashka' -- and not in the friendly way, either."

"What does that mean?"

Chekov blinked at him. "Pavel. It's my name."

"I don't understand."

The ensign didn't bother to go into a discussion of Russian diminutives. "He meant that I was a nuisance and always trouble for him... that I was a baby... that I was stupid and boring."

Sulu could see that these childish wounds still stung. "And you had... an experience with this guy?"

"Yes. It was very strange. It started as an argument. We were watching an old Soviet film. It was a romantic film and Mitya complained that the kissing was unrealistic. I agreed and said that it looked unhygenic as well. It was... How do you say? They were kissing in the English style..."

"You mean French kissing?" Sulu guessed.

"Yes, yes. That's it. And he laughed at me and said I was so stupid and it was obvious that I had never kissed a girl."

"Well, if you were only ten..."

"That didn't matter. You see, it became a matter of competition between us at that point. Any time one of us seemed to have an advantage in anything, it became a matter of competition for the other to exceed him. Do you see?"

Sulu nodded and felt a brief moment of insight into the motives of the villainous Mitya. It wasn't always easy to handle someone your junior in age and experience who, instead of being properly awed by your superiority, was constantly on the verge of overtaking you. The ten-year-old child had to have been just as sometimes exasperatingly bright, stubborn, and indomitable as the twenty-two-year-old ensign was now.

"So I asked my neighbor to teach me."

"Your neighbor?" Sulu repeated, having visions of a Russian version of Mrs. Robinson with a miniature Chekov.

"Brinka was my age," the ensign explained, "but very knowledgeable."

"Your neighbor Brinka taught you how to kiss?"

"Yes."

Sulu nodded approvingly. "She taught you well."

"Yes, she did," Chekov agreed without vanity. "So the next time I had to go with my parents to Mitya's house. I asked to watch another romantic film as soon as we get to his room. From the very first love scene, I began to speak as an expert."

Sulu couldn't help but laugh at the image of a ten-year-old Chekov holding forth in a very serious manner on lovemaking techniques.

"Mitya was furious with me. He said I was a liar and I didn't know anything. He demanded that I prove that I knew what I was talking about."

"And so that did you do?'

"'I kissed him." Chekov had to laugh at little at this himself "And, then, of course, it became a matter of competition between us..."

"Oh, God!" Sulu laughed.

"Now, if I was telling the version of this that I wouldn't tell if I wasn't drunk," Chekov confided, "I'd say that there were some things that we did that I couldn't ask my neighbor to help me with because they weren't things you could do with a girl... "

"Did you really?" Sulu asked. "With someone you didn't even like?"

Chekov shrugged. "We were insane with competition. Everything was a contest to be the very best.. . It wasn't anything, really. Not serious. We just did boyish things. Not serious. I haven't thought about it in years... Until now, really." The ensign's hand casually wandered down past Sulu's waist. "I'd never thought, of doing such things for pleasure." He looked up into the lieutenant's eyes. "Between us it wouldn't be a competition, would it?"

Sulu's answer stuck in his throat as the Russian's fingers settled on him.

"Although... " Chekov smiled slowly. "I am quite good at it. Even Mitya had to admit that."

"Chekov," Sulu choked, knowing he needed to stop the ensign but unable to make himself do so. "Pavel."

"You can call me Pasha," the Russian said absently as he quite deliberately firmed up his grip. "I think I might like that."

"Chekov," Sulu warned vainly, "this isn't a game."'

The ensign showed his pearly white teeth in an aggressive smile. "What's the matter, Karushka?" he purred, rubbing his hand up and down. "Are you afraid I might be better than you too?"

"Okay, that does it. You're asking for it now," Sulu said, reaching for the sash of the Russian's robe.

"Yes, I am." Chekov beat him to it and stripped the garment off unhesitatingly before they both went to work at disposing with the nuisance of Sulu's clothing.

"I think you're going to find," Sulu said, pulling his shirt and undershirt off while bracing one foot against the ensign's backside while his boot was pulled off the other, "that men play by different rules than little boys do."

"And I think you're going to find..." Chekov tossed aside first one then the other boot before turning back to the lieutenant. "..that I'm not a little boy any longer."

"Yes," Sulu agreed, hooking his thumbs inside the waistband of his pants "I can definitely appreciate that."

The navigator grinned as the helmsman slid out of his uniform. "And I can appreciate.. "

"Oh, shut up," Sulu said, pushing his friend's mouth in the direction of an alternate activity and manoeuvring the rest of the ensign's body in a position where he could simultaneously reciprocate.

As he had promised, the Russian did seem to have talent. As in all other activities he had observed the ensign perform during his brief tenure on the Enterprise, Sulu was impressed at how good Chekov was for an amateur. True to form, the navigator was consistent, conscientious, imaginative, and passionate. He was, however, inexperienced.

Sulu purposefully held his stimulation of his partner to a minimum for the moment. He lay back and enjoyed the ride, letting the Russian take the more aggressive role. The lieutenant found himself wishing that he had both Chekov and his bastard friend/enemy Mitya competing over him. Now that would be real fun.

After a pleasing eternity of excellent service, Sulu decided it was time to give his partner the payback he deserved. At just the time that the Russian was probably beginning to anticipate a climax, the lieutenant wrapped his lips around him in earnest. Sulu mentally smiled at the navigator's little moan of surprise. Slowly and deliberately, he used his tongue to teach Chekov a few post-adolescent refinements.

His lover/friend/student groaned with appreciation and abandoned his own efforts - just as Sulu intended. There were other little lessons. Teeth, lips, and wetted fingertips all were applied judiciously until his pupil helplessly acknowledged the lieutenant's mastery in a long shuddering burst of satisfaction.

Sulu kissed the Russian's parted lips before leaving his lover sprawled on the bunk lost in his pleasure. The lieutenant crossed to the replicator and ordered a container of lubricant. It came in a small tube. "'Don't go to sleep,, Pavel." he ordered, squeezing some out onto his fingers. "You're not done yet."

It seemed like those thick, heavy eyelashes were weighing his friend's eyes shut. "Wha..?"

"I said you're not done yet..." Sulu stood beside the bunk. He squirted more lubricant out onto his palm and warmed it with his fingers. "I've taken care of you, but you still have to take care of this."

Chekov blinked, sober with that sudden sobriety that only comes to the very drunk. "What?"

"Roll over," Sulu instructed.

His companion hesitated. "What's that for?" Chekov asked indicating the tube,

"You'll see," the lieutenant replied cryptically. "Come on. On your stomach. Right now, Mister."

The navigator complied cautiously. "What are you going to do?"

"Shhh. Relax," the lieutenant soothed him, as he spread the younger man's legs and knelt on the bunk between them. "Grab that pillow, will you?"

"What for?" the Russian asked as he obeyed.

"Lift your hips." Sulu guided him with the ungreased backs of his hands. "Good boy - put the pillow under there."

"Sulu..."

"Shhhh. Just relax."

Despite this advice, the ensign's eyes went wide and his body rigid as the first dab of lubricant was applied.

"I don't think..." he began, twisting half-way out from under the lieutenant's hands.

"Come on, now. You aren't going to be a baby about this," the lieutenant teased deliberately. "Are you, Pashka?"

The ensign shot him an evil look, but then, as Sulu hoped, he gritted his teeth, lay back down on his belly and braced himself against the head of the bed. "Don't call me that."

"No problem," Sulu grinned, dipping his fingertips into the reservoir of jell in his palm. "Just loosen up. Spread your legs a little further."

"'I've not done this before," Chekov replied defensively.

"Oh, it's not so bad," the lieutenant said, casually inserting a greased finger. "'This isn't so bad, is it?"

A moan escaped his lover/victim's lips. Sulu manipulated him with one hand while he prepared himself with the other.

"Sulu," the navigator whispered, "you will... be.. gentle, won't you?"

"Ummm..." The lieutenant made a noise as if he were considering. "No, I don't think so. I'm afraid you're going to get a pretty good workout."

He timed it so the only response his lover/pupil could make was another helpless groan.

"I tried to warn you," he said, parting the firm buttocks in front of him. "But would you listen? No."

The younger man cried out as be was penetrated. "It's too much! It's too much!" he gasped, wriggling frantically.

But Sulu had him pinned securely. "Shhh," he said, soothing the man underneath

him with gentle thrusts of his hips. "Don't tense up. Just relax and you can take it. See,

there you go. "That doesn't feel bad at all, now does it?"

His lover answered inarticulately with a noise more on the pleasure side of the sensation meter.

"In fact you're going to take much more than this," the lieutenant said, establishing a steady but non-challenging rhythm. "I'm barely inside you."

His lover tightened deliciously at this news.

"Don't make me do all the work here," the lieutenant scolded, pulling the younger man's hips into a softly pulsating movement.

"I... I.." the Russian gasped.

"Shhh," Sulu hushed him. "Breathe. Find the rhythm. You're not concentrating. Relax. Move with me."

He wasn't sure if it was the advice or the accusation that the ensign wasn't applying himself that did the trick, but his partner slowly began to surrender to the rhythm the lieutenant had set.

"Oh, yes," Sulu said, beginning to let himself turn his attention to his own needs. "Good boy . Just a little bit more. Yes..."

A moan escaped his own lips as he finally achieved full penetration of those tight, firm cheeks beneath him.

"I'm not a virgin anymore, in any sense of the word," Chekov mumbled.

"Pavel," the lieutenant hushed him, "I'll tell you when you're not a virgin anymore. And now for that workout I promised you."

His rhythm suddenly switched from gentle strokes to savage thrusts. He pounded the sweet pink flesh below him with all the delandremene inflamed urgency of his need. His lover/captive, now fully submissive and open to him, could do little but cry out in terror or ecstasy and hold on for dear life. Even in the midst of the raging storm of his passion, all tenderness was not forgotten, though. He grasped his lover's hardness and caressed the younger man towards a climax with him.

That climax was a long time coming. The force of it almost asphyxiated him, robbing him of breath for the endless moments as he rode it out, feeling the body under him shudder in recognition. They finally fell apart, slick with sweat and gasping for air.

"'Now, Pavel," he said in the fading seconds as an exhaustion as sensual as passion had been claimed him. "Now, you aren't a virgin anymore."

"I should say not," his partner mumbled in reply as his eyes fell shut.

*******

"'On Course for Beta IV, sir," Sulu replied to his captain's s request the next

morning.

"Where the devil's Chekov?" Kirk asked discontentedly.

"I'm here, sir," the navigator replied, exiting the lift before the words had finished

leaving his captain's lips.

"'Where have you been?" Kirk demanded, putting his hands on his hips.

The navigator moved a little more gingerly than normal as he took his position from the delta shift officer. "I overslept, sir," he explained briefly, lowering his head as if he expected to be swatted for having done so.

Kirk pursed his lips and looked as though he might be contemplating doing so, but Sulu saw his eyes flicker towards the chronometer. He then knew the ensign was safe. There were limits on how much one could be chewed out for being 45 seconds late instead of one's regular five minutes early. Their commander released a reprimanding breath and turned away from the helm. "Lt., Uhura, any word from the Mathasian ambassador yet?"

Sulu silently timed the 27 and a half long seconds it took for Chekov to get his board in order and finally sneak a look over at the other side of the helm. The Russian blushed crimson to find himself anticipated and observed and quickly turned his attention back to his instruments.

"Are you all right?" the lieutenant asked sotto voce.

"Mmmm-hmm." Chekov answered noncommittally, then quickly checked over his shoulder to make certain. his captain was still safety engrossed in a conference at the communications console.

"Sorry that I left before we could talk," Sulu apologised, "but I had to get ready for this shift and you..."

"...Were throwing up in the bathroom." Chekov nodded. "Must have been the delandremene."

"So..." the lieutenant began carefully, "then you do remember what happened last night?"

Chekov blushed even more deeply. "As you said, Lieutenant," he said to his board rather than his companion, "I anticipate remembering last night into my next three incarnations."

Sulu's heart started beating again as he saw a small smile follow this remark. "So, you're okay?"

The Russian paused before turning to him. "I am okay," he agreed, a familiar glint coming into his eyes. "But next time, I'll be excellent."

"'Oh, no " Sulu grinned. "Don't tell me..."

The Russian nodded. "It's become a matter of competition."