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Dirty

By Skazitelnitsky

"Hey!" Sulu's voice stopped Chekov only a few feet away from his cabin. "I thought we were having dinner tonight."

The ensign sighed before he turned around, knowing Sulu was going to laugh at the state of his hands, face, and uniform. He was not disappointed.

"You're filthy!" Sulu said, helpfully pointing out the obvious. "What happened to you? I thought you were helping Spock with some repairs in Auxiliary Control."

The Russian sighed again, too tired to relay the entire story of how what promised to be an hour's worth of diagnostics and simple recalibration had turned into a frustrating six hours of crawling under and inside seldom used panels. He particularly didn't want to make any special mention of how his testing of one malfunctioning unit had resulted in his getting a fine misting of lubricating fluid down the front of his uniform.

"The problem was... different than Mr. Spock assumed it to be," he summarized.

Sulu grinned and shook his head. "Come on."

The ensign gestured pleadingly towards his cabin door. "I really must clean up..."

"Using that pitiful little excuse for a shower?" Sulu scoffed. "I think not."

After searching for a moment for a clean spot, the lieutenant put a guiding hand on the ensign's back and propelled him forward.

Knowing that he had no other option now, Chekov allowed himself to be escorted towards the helmsman's quarters. He decided that they needed to talk at any rate. Although he was too tired to do so, the ensign knew there were things he needed to say to Sulu. He felt so unsure of all this. Their affair had started so unexpectedly. It felt strange to be love. It felt very strange to be in love with a man.

A crewman grinned at them as he passed them in the corridor.

Blushing, Chekov wasn't 100% sure the grin was entirely for his unkempt appearance.

"Sulu," he said uncomfortably, not making eye contact, "When you touch me in public... it makes me feel...."

The helmsman smiled and keyed open his doorlock. "Dirty?" he guessed.

"I'm serious," the ensign warned, permitting himself to be ushered in.

"I know," the lieutenant replied lightly as the door closed behind them. He located a single grime-free spot on the ensign's temple and kissed it. "That's the big difference between us."

When Chekov attempted to reply, Sulu put a finger over his lips. "Just stay exactly where you are," the helmsman said, backing into the room's head. "Try not to touch anything."

As it always did when left alone with him, the lieutenant's terrestrious mantus plant turned and growled at the navigator.

"Gertrude," Sulu scolded, returning with a cloth in one hand and a mixed drink in the other. "Ignore her. She's jealous."

"Why do you keep that thing?" the ensign asked, glaring at the plant who, in its own way, seemed to be glaring back at him.

"Oh, pretty much the same reason that I keep you," the lieutenant replied, rubbing the cool damp cloth over the ensign's cheeks and mouth. "For the sparkling conversation."

Chekov and the plant both grunted at him unappeciatively.

"Here." Sulu held the drink up to his helm partner's lips. "Try this."

The ensign drained the little glass in a gulp. "What is it?"

"It was a martini."

"Interesting." Chekov ran his tongue over his lips as he held his head up so Sulu could wipe the grime from his neck. "But..."

"...why dilute good vodka?" the lieutenant finished with him, setting aside the empty glass. "Well, it never hurts to try new things. You may find something you like."

This seemed like a good segue into more serious matters. "Sulu..."

He was interrupted as the helmsman took this opportunity to pull the ensign's stained tunic up and over his head. "Yeech." Sulu grimaced as he quickly followed up by peeling the sweat and lubricant soaked black t-shirt underneath from the ensign's torso. "What did you and Spock do, wrestle in the stuff? And if so, would you consider doing it again for a small, but appreciative audience?"

Chekov rolled his eyes at this attempt at levity as the helmsman opened the bathroom door for him. Although the facilities were fractionally larger than those in his cabin, the ensign was unimpressed. He was on the verge of saying so when the lieutenant opened his shower stall and activated the unit.

The Russian's mouth dropped open reverently. "How did you manage to get a shower with real water?"

In interest of resource conservation, most of the units on board were sonic.

"I lied," Sulu reported cheerfully as he dropped Chekov's stained uniform into the recycling unit. "I claimed religious reasons... And after a long shift, hot water does make me believe there's a God."

The ensign nodded, mesmerized by the inviting stream of lovely droplets. "Cleanliness is next to godliness."

The lieutenant gestured graciously towards the stall. "My shrine awaits."

With no further hesitation, the ensign stripped off his boots and remaining clothes and stepped into the unit.

"Ahh." He closed his eyes and stood perfectly still under the steaming flow. A sonic wave might get you cleaner quicker, but it could never do this. The falling water soothed and replenished him. All the tension and frustration of his day seemed to drain away under the gentle downpour.

After several blissful moments, Sulu -- as the ensign knew he eventually would -- called out, "Need your back scrubbed?"

"Yes, fine," Chekov mumbled agreeably.

A cool breeze hit his back as the lieutenant stepped in. The warm naked body that pressed against his as Sulu reached for the soap shelf in front of him felt nearly as comforting as the flow of warm water.

He groaned softly as strong hands grasped the tight muscles of his shoulders.

"That's better, isn't it?" The lieutenant's deep voice caressed his ear.

"Mmmmm," was all the acknowledgement he could manage as those talented fingers moved over him with careful precision, spreading rich, fragrant lather. He leaned back against the warm, solid wall of flesh as the helmsman reached around him to soap his chest.

From the moment he'd run into the lieutenant in the corridor, Chekov had been nursing a stubborn resolution to not let Sulu make love to him ... particularly not in the shower. That was beginning to seem more and more like a very stupid idea.

The helmsman kept to his task, doing nothing overtly provocative as he thoroughly cleansed each of the navigator's fingers.

Somehow, not doing anything arousing was the most arousing thing the lieutenant could have possibly chosen to do. Chekov bit his lip as the helmsman bent to wash his feet. Sulu's bare shoulder rubbed against the backs of his thighs maddeningly.

'What a whore I've become,' the ensign thought, spreading his legs and bracing himself against the shower wall in front of him as the lieutenant worked his way up the Russian's calves.

Sulu didn't seem to notice. He meticulously lathered his partner's thighs without a single lascivious pause.

Those capable hands paying only workman-like attention to his backside was more than the ensign could take.

"Sulu..." he ground out from between gritted teeth.

"Yes?" The lieutenant's reply was light and casual.

"Make love to me NOW."

"Oh, okay," Sulu said, as if the thought would never have occurred to him otherwise.

This indifference, Chekov quickly discovered as a very formidable and pre-lubricated erection was introduced to him unhesitatingly, was a complete and total ruse.

Sulu entered him with short, careful thrusts. He waited until the ensign arched back against him before burying his length inside his partner. To the accompaniment of moans anguished relief, he thrust slowly, exploring, and claiming every inch of what he found as his and only his.

"Please," the ensign whispered on a shaky breath.

The lieutenant quickened, but didn't shorten his strokes, sinking ardently into the warm welcome of his partner's body with each thrust. His lover tightened around him, pulling a groan from his own lips.

His control of his pacing lapsed and his thrusts became more rapid and erratic. Hot muscle clamped around him. The lieutenant's hand went to his partner's hardness. With herculean effort, he managed to co-ordinate his thrusts with long strokes of his fingers.

"Oh." The small sound that escaped the ensign and began to repeat continually, becoming first a forewarning, then a entreaty, briefly a malediction, then, finally, surrender. Every tense muscle straining, Chekov climaxed, hot and glorious, overflowing the lieutenant's fingers.

Sulu followed him instantly, warmly filling the beloved body before him until they were both spent and sated.

They rested together for several moments afterwards, breathing and leaning against the cool walls of the shower as sultry droplets cascaded down their joined bodies heedlessly.

At last, Sulu withdrew reluctantly and picked up a sponge to complete the task he'd started.

Chekov turned. Without a word, he took the lieutenant into his arms and kissed him, feeding on his lover's lips as if he meant to sustain himself there for an eternity. Sulu was content with this prospect.

They were interrupted at length by the unexpected deactivation of the shower's flow.

"It's on a timer," Sulu explained, kissing the ensign's nose. "So, how do you feel now?"

The Russian sighed and rested his head against his partner's shoulder. "Like a fool. I intend to have a serious conversation with you about how uncertain I feel about our being together. Instead, I take off my clothes and beg you to make love to me."

"Well, you had a lot of help in moving in that direction," the lieutenant admitted. He tenderly lifted the ensign's chin. "Do you feel uncertain?"

Chekov shrugged, dismayed by his own inexplicably fickle nature. "I did."

"But then we made love," Sulu prompted, "and you remembered that I love you, and that you're pretty darn fond of me, and that both of us are going to all we can to make this work. Right?"

Chekov rewarded the lieutenant for this pleasingly accurate analysis with another long, passionate kiss. "I think I do love you," he admitted into the safe haven of his partner's ear, hugging him.

Sulu's embrace tightened. He said nothing, but set to kissing each distinct part of the navigator's face and shoulders as if he were putting a possessive seal on each.

"So," he said finally. "What's Spock got planned for you tomorrow? More of the same, I hope."

"I have no idea." Chekov looked into his partner's eyes and grinned. "But rest assured that I intend to come home to you very, very dirty."