The Experiment

       Of course, there was no way Pavel could know how much his helm partner tended to talk while he was making love. And that's what it had been - fuck talk. Okay, maybe not only fuck talk. But still, Sulu could see how Pavel had misinterpreted it.
       He shut off the chatter in his brain and called, "Come." He stood, turning to the door as it slid open to reveal - Uhura.
       "Evening, Sulu," she said. Her smile was bright and warm and Sulu knew Pavel must have talked to her. She did a quick once over of his clothing. "Expecting company?"
       "Now that you mention it..." Sulu began.
       She took a step inside and let the door close behind her. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't already know all about it," she confessed. She walked over to the desk, her hand trailing over the viewer. "Chekov's a little nervous," she said, "so I promised him I'd be here when he arrived." She flashed him another smile. "I hope you don't mind."
       Sulu shrugged. "If that's how he wants it," he agreed.
       "By the way, do you know that?"
       "Know what?"
       "How he wants it?"
       Sulu took a deep breath. "I was expecting he'd tell me."
       Uhura frowned. "Not very romantic, Hikaru."
       "This is an experiment," Sulu returned. "Romance can wait."
       "No, sugar, I don't think it can."
       Sulu closed his eyes. "I'm taking it on his terms," he told the communications officer. "After what happened with the Mergonians..."
       "After what happened with the Mergonians, the last thing he needs - or wants - is dispassionate experimentation," Uhura returned firmly.
       "That's not what he said," Sulu frowned.
       "And you're going to just take him at his word?"
       The helmsman sighed. "Look what happened when I didn't."
       Uhura turned to face him. "Sulu, he's been talking to me for three weeks..."
       "Filling your head with how manipulative, selfish and devious I am," Sulu broke in.
       Uhura waved her hand. "That was fear talking. You think I can't tell the difference?"
       "You didn't exactly welcome me back with open arms, Nyota."
       "True." She smiled again, but there was an edge to it. "I was too busy welcoming Chekov back with open arms." Sulu frowned again. "But be that as it may, I'm telling you now, sugar, that if you treat this like some kind of sex education class you'll be blowing it big time."
       Sulu stared at her for a long minute, then sat down at the desk, wearily shaking his head. "Then I'm screwed," he said. "If I do what he tells me he wants, I'm blowing it big time. If I do anything else I'm assuming things, which is how I got into trouble in the first place."
       "Except this time," Uhura purred, coming close to him, "I can tell you what he wants."

        Pavel had shaved twice. He found that the action was soothing and so had declined to reinstitute the beard suppressants now that he was back in civilization. It was also something to do while he was waiting for his appointment with Sulu. He couldn't bring himself to call it a date. He wanted a glass or two - or twelve - of vodka, but had resolutely ignored the desire. The last thing he wanted was to be judgment-impaired during the upcoming experiment. He winced at his own mental choice of words. Upcoming. How very amusing, Pasha.
        He glanced again at the timepiece on his desk. It was an antique, a mantle clock given to him by his grandmother, which had been given to her by her grandmother which had been given to her by her grandmother and so on for generations. The analog clock-face was flanked by two oval-shaped religious icons, father and son; Vladimir the Great and the martyr, Boris, patron saint of Moscow. It was an important heirloom, cherished because it had saved the family from more than one pogrom. It showed that he had approximately five minutes until he would be late arriving at Sulu's cabin.
       Why did I agree to go to him? he found himself wondering for perhaps the hundredth time. Because he is the teacher, you the student, he answered for the hundredth time. It is proper. And, as Sulu said, it would give me the most opportunity to change my mind if I so desired. Is that not what you wanted, to have control over the situation?
       That is not what Nyota says.
       Pavel shook the thought away. Uhura was a very perceptive woman, a very intelligent woman, but she could not truly understand this situation. He needed the emotional distance, at least at first. He had to evaluate the claims Sulu had made objectively before he could allow himself to consider whether or not the emotions were something he would permit in himself. I am proceeding quite logically, he reminded himself. I am not denying the possibility of a deeper relationship, I am simply being cautious. This is a good thing, always, is it not?
       That is not what...
       And I am not Nyota! He scowled at the mental argument and again checked the time. He smoothed the casual civilian tunic he was wearing, checked his reflection in the mirror over his dresser, took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and left his quarters.

        The cabin had been rather hastily redecorated. There was now a bottle of champagne resting in an ice bucket on the desk, with a fifth of vodka beside it. There was a tray of cut vegetables, along with pirozhki, volba, black radishes, and, of course, caviar. The room's illumination was programmed for one-third lighting. One side of the bedspread was artfully folded down to a triangle, looking almost like origami. Sulu had drawn the line at Vadim Kozin, preferring a soft instrumental be programmed into the cabin's sound system.
       The helmsman, too, had changed. He wore a rich kimono of muted jewel tones, the darker obi wound flatteringly around his waist. His slippers rested in the bottom of the wardrobe; Uhura had said bare feet were sexier. She had even insisted on a hint of cologne. "Musk," she said. "He likes musk."
       They were sharing glasses of Nectar Imperial when the door chime sounded. Uhura put down her glass and went to the door, opening it manually.
       "Come on in, sugar," she greeted Chekov. The Russian took one step into the cabin, then stopped, frowning. "Lesson one," she whispered to him, "there is no reason lessons have to be sterile or austere." She smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Have fun, boys," she called and stepped out through the open door, allowing it to slide closed behind her.

       "Hi," Sulu said as casually as he could. "Uhura thought you might like a snack, or a drink." He stopped himself from saying anything awkward like 'before we start' or 'get down to business.'
       "I - see," Chekov returned, his frown deepening into a scowl. "Did Uhura say what else I might like?"
       Sulu casually walked over to him, attempting to hand him a glass of the champagne. "A little light conversation, a way to get comfortable and relaxed with one another." Again, the helmsman avoided adding any version of 'before we.'
       Chekov folded his arms, obviously refusing the drink. "And you accept Uhura's - expertise - in knowing what I want?"
       Sulu sighed. "I suppose that was presumptuous of me," he conceded, and returned both glasses to the dresser. He also thumbed the switch to turn off the music. "I'm sorry, Pavel."
       "Is that pirozhki?" Chekov asked, inclining his head to look past the lieutenant's body.
       Sulu nodded. "It's Russian," was all he said by way of explanation. He wasn't about to tell Pavel that Uhura had suggested it after checking the ensign's dietary records.
        "It is one of my favorite indulgences," Chekov went on, taking a few steps toward the desk and the tray of food. "And black radishes, and volba..." He glanced up, his eyes half suspicious, half amused. "What did you do, consult a Russian cookbook?"
       Sulu allowed a flush to color his cheeks. "Kind of," he admitted.
       "It is very flattering, Sulu," Chekov graciously allowed. He stepped the rest of the way to the desk. "And I am hungry."
       "Enjoy," Sulu offered, gesturing toward the tray of food.
       "You are not eating?" Chekov asked moments later when he had filled a plate with at least one of everything.
       "Just waiting for my guest to make his choices first," Sulu responded with a grin. He got his own plate as Chekov sat down in the chair before the desk. He himself leaned against the desk, picking easily at the food.
       "Salted fish," he said after swallowing a piece of the volba. "Unusual."
       "Really?" Chekov wondered. "You don't have salted fish in San Francisco?"
       "I suppose someone does, but Asian fish is usually steamed." Sulu smiled again. "Or raw."
       "Isn't that dangerous?"
       "Not if the chef knows what he's doing."
       Chekov grunted an acknowledgement. He glanced at the bucket of ice that held the bottle of champagne. "How can you drink such..." He struggled for a word, finally settling on, "soda pop."
       Sulu raised his eyebrows. "Soda pop?" he repeated.
       "Well, it has bubbles," Chekov pointed out, "and it is too sweet." The helmsman shrugged. Nectar Imperial was a very full-bodied, dry wine, but he wasn't about to argue the point.
       "Good vodka, on the other hand..." Chekov had continued.
       "Like Pravda?" Sulu ventured.
       "Pravda?" Chekov said, sitting up straighter. "You have Pravda?"
       Sulu leaned over the desk, raising the bottle.
       "Bozhe moi!"
       A glass was quickly poured and handed to the ensign. He took a small sip, then smiled broadly, draining the glass in one long gulp.
       "Kanpai," Sulu murmured.

       An hour later, half of the bottle of vodka was gone and Sulu had finished the champagne. He and Chekov were relaxed, comfortable, talking and joking like they had before the fateful mission to Mergon. Sulu decided it was time to get things moving.
       "So," he said bluntly, "about your experiment..."
       "Ah yes, the experiment," Chekov returned. He stood up from his chair, pouring another half-glass of vodka. "What I would like, Sulu, is for you to explain to me exactly what Vargik wanted."
       "Pav, I can't possibly know..." Sulu began.
       "Oh, but I think you can," Chekov cut him off. He drained the glass. "You know what men like him want. You spoke of dominance and said he would want to humiliate me. What would that have entailed? What exactly would he have done?"
       Sulu rose from his own seat - cross-legged on the bed - and took Chekov's empty glass from his hand. "Is this really what..."
       "This is the beginning of what I want," Chekov again interrupted. "Please, Sulu. Tell me."
       Sulu studied the searching brown eyes. Chekov wasn't drunk - he'd seen the Russian put away a great deal more alcohol than half a bottle and still be passing sober. He guessed the ensign was allowing it to affect him, emotional lubrication for what would no doubt be a difficult conversation. Okay, then. He took Chekov's hand, leading him to sit on the edge of the bed while Sulu resumed his cross-legged position.
       "First," he began, choosing his words carefully, "what I did to..."
       "What we did," Chekov corrected, and waved his hand to tell the lieutenant to go on.
       There's a good sign, Sulu thought, and accepted the correction. "What we did, while technically what Vargik would've done, was in effect and intent a very, very different thing."
       "Yes, you did not intend to hurt me," Chekov said.
       "Yeah, but it's more than that," Sulu told him. "I - uh - prepared you."
       "You mean with your fingers."
       Sulu blinked. Chekov was being so casual about the details, far more casual than the helmsman would have believed. "Yes. And I used lubrication. If Vargik really wanted to get over on you, he might not have."
       "And that would have been more painful."
       "Oh yeah."
       "This 'get over on'..." Chekov began.
       "No, that's just an expression. It means to top, to be superior."
       "But did you not...?"
       Sulu choked back a laugh. "Physically, yeah, I guess I did."
       Chekov frowned. "This is funny?"
       "I'm sorry, Pavel, it's just that we're getting sidetracked with semantics."
       "English is not my native..."
       "I know, I'm sorry, I'm not making fun of you. I'll try not to use any more colloquialisms." Sulu took a deep breath. "Okay. Vargik was bigger than you, and he would've wanted you to really know that. He would've pushed you around..."
       "How?" Chekov interrupted. "Show me."
       "Pav, there isn't the size differential between us..."
       "That is all right. I will let you."
       Let me, huh? Sulu thought with a scowl. I have a few tricks that might surprise you, my Russian friend.
       He got up from the bed, gesturing for Chekov to do the same. "Okay, Vargik's got you in some small room or cell somewhere. You're furious, he's gloating..."
       "I would not be furious," Chekov admitted. "I would be frightened."
       Sulu managed to keep the surprise from his tone and expression. "Okay. He'd be crooning to you, calling you 'chiksa,' trying to goad you into attacking him, or trying to get past him." Sulu took a couple of steps backward, giving Chekov room to do just that.
       "Crooning," the Russian said. "This is how you spoke to me when you told me I was a good boy."
       Sulu swallowed sudden shame. "Pavel, I - can I explain about..."
       The ensign abruptly shook his head. "Another time," he said. "Go on."
       "Well, you have to make a..."
       Before the sentence was out of his mouth, Chekov lunged at him. Caught off guard, Sulu couldn't manage the side-step and tripping movement he'd imagined Vargik would use. Instead, he caught Chekov's momentum and used it to flip the ensign over his shoulder. The Russian landed on the bed, and Sulu swiveled around. Chekov was already rising, and it was Sulu's turn to lunge forward, bringing his knee into the navigator's stomach.
       The air rushed out of Chekov's lungs with an "oof!" as he fell back. Sulu grabbed the collar of the tunic Chekov wore, pulling open the invisi-seam that lay beneath the decorative strip on the left side of the chest. He immediately placed his hands on the Russian's bared flesh, pressing down firmly.
       "Going somewhere, chiksa?" he asked in an obvious imitation of Vargik's condescending sneer.
       "That - is not - crooning," Chekov managed between gasps for breath.
       Sulu bent his head, his eyes closing. All right, you asked for it. He swallowed, then used his most silky, most seductive tone. "Ah, my little chiksa likes it rough," he murmured, staring down into the brown eyes, a leer curling his lips. "I can't tell you how happy that makes me."

       As soon as he entered Sulu's cabin, Pavel knew that his resolve to be cautious was a lost cause. He hadn't needed Uhura's 'lesson one,' but, being who and what he was, he hadn't been able to simply discard his intent altogether. And Uhura's presumptions had made him a little resentful. It was one thing for him to abandon the idea of a purely intellectual approach. It was another entirely for her to abandon it for him. But Sulu's immediate apology and acquiescence to his preferences made it impossible for him to continue feeling affronted. And then, to find that the helmsman had deliberately prepared his favorite foods, even to the expensive extent of providing Pravda...
       He must want your forgiveness very badly.
       Is that all he wants very badly?
       No, but there are situations where two separate causes can be served by the same action.
       As was the case in the detention camp.
       Ah, Pasha, you begin to see the light.
       He had been content as they talked and ate and drank, renewing the easy relationship they had always before enjoyed. He was even beginning to convince himself that the experiment would not really be necessary when Sulu said, apparently casually, "So, about your experiment..."
       The moment of truth. Pavel felt the flutter of fear in his stomach. How to proceed? The vodka he had consumed was nowhere near enough to cause him to lose his senses, but it was enough to loosen his inhibitions. He poured himself another glass and said, "What I would like, Sulu, is for you to explain to me exactly what Vargik wanted." That was, after all, the reason for the entire matter. Sulu had known what Vargik expected. Pavel had not. Sulu had intimated that no longer being a virgin would lessen the trauma of what Vargik would do. Well, I am no longer a virgin. Let us see what there is besides trauma.
       Sulu was excruciatingly careful in his actions, and his wording, with one exception, the inclusion of an idiom Pavel was not familiar with. As usual, his reaction to it was to feel foolish, and therefore defensive. But again, the helmsman had immediately explained and apologized, even to the point of admitting that what he called 'semantics' was an irrelevant side-issue. And you got some measure of recompense for the momentary embarrassment by telling him you would 'let' him have the physical advantage, Pavel reminded himself.
       He had dictated the course of the conversation, stating as fact things that Sulu might have been unwilling to say. It was with some satisfaction that this behavior seemed to fluster the lieutenant. Pavel further controlled things by being far more open than was normal when it came to his emotional state, confessing that he would have felt afraid if alone with Vargik. And when Sulu mentioned that the Mergonian would have expected his 'chiksa' to attack or bolt, Pavel did just that.
       He had expected the lieutenant to counter it, but not to have the wind knocked out of him. He fell back onto the bed and Sulu was suddenly on top of him, one knee forcing him to the mattress. His tunic was laid open, Sulu's warm hands pressing against his skin.
       "Going somewhere, chiksa?" the helmsman snarled.
       Pavel managed to keep control of the situation, despite the fact he was literally gasping for breath. You said Vargik would 'croon' at me...
       "That - is not - crooning," he challenged.
       There was a slight pause, then Sulu looked at him, all the easy companionship gone from the dark almonds. He spoke, and his voice was deep velvet; soft, rich, and full of taunting dominance. "Ah, my little chiksa likes it rough," he murmured. "I can't tell you how happy that makes me."
       Pavel's heart thundered in his chest. The erection that he had been controlling all day flared to rigid prominence. This was why had had reacted so badly, this was the reason for his fear, his paranoia, his unreasoning accusations. It had nothing to do needing information, nor with intellectual curiosity. It had nothing to do with Sulu's behavior - except for that crooning, compelling, 'That's a good boy, that's a good boy. Just relax. Yes. You're ready now, aren't you. You want it now.'
       "I - want to be - willing," Pavel breathed. He abruptly reached up, grasping Sulu's head, pulling the lieutenant down into a deep, urgent kiss.

       Hunger exploded in Sulu's being at Chekov's passionate, breathless confession. There was no time to think about what to do with it, for the Russian drew him into a fervent kiss. He remembered how the ensign had responded to his kisses in the detention camp, and couldn't stop the eager delight.
       His hands left Chekov's chest, coming up to grasp the navigator's jaw and throat. He thoroughly ravished the mouth beneath his, sucking, biting, licking at tongue and lips. He felt the hard flesh against his calf and moved his leg to press into it. Chekov moaned, his hands leaving Sulu's head to grasp at the helmsman's shoulders. The Russian's soft, wide mouth left his and moved to his throat, nuzzling and nipping at the sensitive skin.
       "Talk to me," Chekov whispered urgently. "Tell me what you will do to me."
       The words sent fire into Sulu's veins. His fingers tightened involuntarily at Chekov's throat and the ensign gasped, then made a mewling sound of helpless eroticism. It fed the fierce desire that was racing through the helmsman's body.
       "You want me," he said, his voice a growl of passion. "You want me as much as I want you."
       "No..." Chekov gasped and for a nanosecond, Sulu thought he was serious. Then he recalled Pavel's words, just minutes earlier. You know what men like him want. You spoke of dominance and said he would want to humiliate me. What would that have entailed? What exactly would he have done? And he knew what the ensign wanted. He knew what to do.
       "Yes you do, my chiksa," he continued, licking and biting at the Russian's earlobe. One hand reached down to grasp Chekov's rock-hard cock. "This doesn't lie."
       "Please, I cannot..."
       "This," Sulu continued lasciviously, a conscious parody of Chekov's own 'this thing,' "wants more. This wants to beg for my touch." He squeezed the muscle, far from gentle, and felt Chekov's body surge beneath him. His own cock was pulsing and he pushed himself up off the bed. Arrogantly he flipped the material of the open tunic away from Chekov's torso. "Take this off," he commanded.
       Chekov's eyes were very wide and very bright. He sat up slowly, obeying, his face flushed.
       "Very nice," Sulu said with a leering smile. "Turn around." Chekov did so. "Lower your pants," Sulu ordered. "The briefs too." Again, Chekov obeyed, sliding the dark cloth carefully over his erection, exposing his rear end. Sulu reached out, pushing Chekov to his hands and knees on the bed, pinching the firm flesh. He felt the navigator shudder under the touch. "Yes, very nice," he murmured lewdly. He stepped forward, pressing his still-covered erection to the warm body. "That's going to feel good, hmm, chiksa? You may not be fresh, but I'll bet you're still nice and tight." He slapped Chekov's rump. Chekov flinched but let out a quavering breath.
       Sulu shivered with the heady reaction. Pavel was responding to him as if this were one of his own more inventive dreams. There was a small voice somewhere in the back of his brain warning him to go slow, but there was no way he was going to listen to it. Not when he begs for it, he thought hungrily.
       He gave Pavel's backside another sharp slap and the Russian's head lowered to the mattress, a soft moan escaping him. Sulu quickly knelt, reaching under the bed for his box of sexual accoutrements. His fingers found what he wanted; a supple, well-oiled strap of the finest leather. It had been a gift from Uhura after one of their wilder shore leaves. He drew it almost lovingly across the ensign's skin.
       "I want you hot," he said, bending over the bed to whisper in Pavel's ear. "Let's see how much heat I can put into you," he chuckled, "before I put me into you." It was crude, he knew it, but Pavel groaned, his erection jumping. "Look at me."
       Pavel turned his head. The naked fear in his eyes was only a cover for deep, earnest arousal. Sulu smiled fiercely and held the strap up to Pavel's mouth.
       "Kiss it," he ordered softly. Hesitantly, the ensign put his lips to the leather. "Use some tongue," Sulu snapped. Chekov blinked, but licked at the hide. Sulu pushed the strap against the Russian's face. "Like you kiss me, chiksa," he taunted.
       Chekov's cheeks reddened but he closed his eyes and started mouthing the band.
       "Look at me," Sulu demanded. "Show me how good you're going to be to my cock." Pavel started, his eyes flying open, staring up at Sulu in dismay.
       "Did you think you were going to get away without sucking me?" Sulu chuckled. "No, no, little one. Not by a long shot." He grasped Chekov's jaw, giving him a thorough, passionate, knee-weakening, soul-devouring kiss. He held it until he felt the ensign's fear melt again into heady response.
       He drew away, leaving the navigator panting. "Now for that heat," he murmured, and took a step away from the bed.

       It was only Pavel's sudden, choking cry that brought Sulu back from the ecstasy that was surrounding him. Taking the Russian's mouth was such heady relief that he had lost himself in it. He quickly stepped back, releasing Pavel's head. The ensign gasped, breathing heavily, sitting back on his heels, the hands Sulu knew so well resting on naked thighs. Is it enough yet, Pavel? he thought. Have I shown you what the son-of-a-bitch would've done? He saw Pavel's eyes flash up at him. Not enough, not by a long shot. Alright, baby, we'll take this all the way.
       "On the bed," he growled, "on your back." Pavel rose on shaky legs. "Crawl,' Sulu suggested. Flushing, the Russian did so. Sulu appreciated the movement of his body, the strong muscles and well-shaped arms and legs and the swaying erection between his legs. He couldn't stop the murmured, "god, you're beautiful!"
       Pavel's soft, "thank you, sir," went straight to his groin. He shrugged the kimono off of his shoulders and stepped to the bed. The ensign did as he was told, lying on his back, his arms carefully at his side. Sulu knelt on the bed, running his hands over the body displayed for him. Pavel's skin was warm and the way he bit his lip against the undeniable arousal was enough to make Sulu never want to stop. He started by skimming his fingertips over the Russian's chest and belly and thighs. He gave little pinches to the soft flesh, chuckling when the ensign's cock quivered. He lowered his head, tasting what his fingers had enjoyed. He left small, suckling welts around Pavel's nipples, loving the navigator's helpless moans. When he reached for the pulsing erection, he made sure to stare at Pavel's face.
       At the first light touch, the Russian' teeth again bit into his lower lip. Sulu smiled, trailing his fingers over the rigid flesh, staring at the soft, brown eyes. He was surprised that Pavel would keep his eyes open, but it pleased him. "Hmm, not so little," he observed. He gave the organ a light slap. Pavel gasped. "And responsive. All I could wish for, not-so-little chiksa." He chuckled, then grasped the ensign's cock, pumping it hard and fast. Pavel's body bucked off the bed, a string of Russian escaping his lips in a breathless rasp. Sulu laughed in sheer delight, then swiftly bent, taking the cock into his mouth. He was pretty sure Vargik wouldn't have done that, but he was salivating for the taste.
       The head was slick with delicious pre-ejaculate. Sulu licked it avidly, lapping down the shaft, then pulled the length of it into his throat. He gave it a long, luxurious sucking, feeling Pavel squirming beneath him. When at last the ensign's hand came to his head, he pulled away, grabbing the navigator's wrist. "Oh, no, princess, I'm in charge here." Pavel took a deep breath.
       "Yes, sir," he deferred.
       Sulu rose, not letting go of Pavel's arm. He pulled it to the Russian's knee. "Hold it up," he directed and bent the ensign's leg. Swallowing, Pavel grasped his own leg. "The other one, too," Sulu instructed. Pavel shuddered, but complied. Sulu ran his hands down the sturdy thighs, cupping the buttocks, letting his thumbs stroke the tender inner flesh. "Mmm," he said, "as soft as a baby's bottom. Lift a little higher, chiksa." Pavel pulled at his legs and his backside came up off the bed. "That's what I want to see," Sulu crooned. He moved one hand toward Pavel's mouth.
       "No," the Russian abruptly snapped. "You said he would not."
       Sulu swallowed. "Pav..." he began in a whisper.
       "No. As it would've been, Hikaru."
       Sulu blinked. Pavel had never used his first name, not even at their most companionable. The navigator spoke again, barely audible. "Please."
       Sulu took a deep breath. Okay, Pavel. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you blame me for the pain. He hardened his features, again grasping the navigator's thighs.
       "Was it good the first time, chiksa?" he crooned. He saw the rush of pleasure flushing Pavel's face. "Did your little friend fill you or do you want more? Do you need more?"
       "Please," Pavel repeated, and it could easily be taken as assent or as plea.
       "Oh, you'll plead, little one," Sulu sneered. "You'll beg me before I'm done with you." He moved up on the bed, positioning himself between the Russian's thighs. He stroked the exposed orifice, chuckling as it twitched. "Pretty," he went on, "a lovely little rosebud." Pavel moaned. Sulu moved forward. "Hold very still," he murmured. "That's a good boy." He took a hold of the navigator's thighs, again, pushing them further forward. "Relax," he said. "Not that it matters. I'm gonna fuck you whether you're relaxed or not." He felt the trembling and closed his heart to it. This is what he wants, he told himself.

       Pavel held his breath. He remembered how the penetration had felt at first, the sense of uncomfortable fullness, distressingly like the need to evacuate the bowels. Then the ring of muscle would relax, the friction of flesh against flesh burning and distracting. The pressure would build as the organ was forced deeper, then an almost shattering pleasure as it found the gland inside him.
       Unfortunately, he also remembered how much the continued thrusting had hurt after he had climaxed. Common sense told him that the solution was to keep aroused - to not allow such a rapid orgasm. Knowing what was coming would certainly help that; the first time, that shattering pleasure had been so unexpected he couldn't have held off if his life had depended on it. And this time, I am far more aroused and have been so for far longer than...
       His logical train of thought was abruptly cut off at the feel of Sulu's thumbs pulling at his anus, followed immediately by the slick head of the helmsman's cock.
       "You're ready now," Sulu chanted. The rich, dark voice seared hunger into him. "You want it now."
       Pavel cried out as the entire length of Sulu's organ was plunged into him. His breath came in gasps both pain-filled and urgent and the lieutenant's hands came under his buttocks, lifting him, pulling him back into the thrusts. He was split open again and again, the sensation too intense for description.
       Don't climax! he screamed at himself, and as if he'd heard, Sulu slapped his straining erection, slowing down his own fierce movement.
       "Ah, chiksa, this is what I want," Sulu groaned. "This is what I've been waiting for, what I've dreamt of since I first saw your beautiful little body in the yard."
       "Stop, please..." Pavel moaned on cue.
       "Stop? No, little one, I'm just getting started."
       Again the helmsman reached out, this time to tease and torment the Russian's cock. "You may pretend you don't like this, that you didn't want it, but your own organ betrays you," Sulu murmured knowingly. "Look at it jump, my princess. Look at it respond." Fingers slid over the head, coming away with a good coating of pre-ejaculate. Sulu leaned forward, causing Pavel to again cry out, and the wetness was shoved into the ensign's mouth. "Giving up your purity gained you not a thing, did it? And ruined nothing for me. You are still as tight as any virgin."
       The words were punctuated by deep, harsh thrusts and Pavel sobbed, his suffering mingling with helpless desire.
       "No more," he rasped, "please, no more!"
       "Please no - more," Sulu mocked, altering the emphasis. He laughed, a hard, ugly sound that nevertheless raced through Pavel's veins. "Very well, chiksa, if more is what you want..."
       Terror screamed in Pavel's mind, colored by obdurate, wanton passion. He could no longer stop the litany, could no longer deny the truth that had devastated him. He pulled his knees up to his shoulders, pushing with his elbows on the bed, forcing himself up to Sulu's hips. "Yes, more," he gasped, "I want it, I need it! Please, take me, use me, Hikaru, fuck me!"

       The game was over, and Sulu abandoned the pretense of Vargik. He grasped the hips before him, angling with practiced skill directly for the Russian's prostate. Pavel started shrieking, his voice hoarse and desperate with utter carnality. Sulu varied the timing of his strokes, the depth and the frequency and the speed until the ensign was sobbing in reckless abandon, clutching at the sheets, his head thrown back exposing the delicate flesh of his throat. The lieutenant kept a careful eye on the state of Pavel's erection, and when it began to pulse in pre-orgasmic shudder, he quickened his pace, focusing on his own pleasure. The feeling grew swiftly, sharply and Sulu cried out with his own orgasm just before the Russian's cock spurted its hot fluid up onto his belly and chest.
       Sulu collapsed onto Pavel's body as the ensign's legs came crashing down on either side of him. He started kissing the navigator's throat and shoulders, licking the salt-sweat from the body beneath him. He shifted up, his lips moving to the Russian's ear and he whispered, "Pasha, sweet Pasha..."
       An arm landed wearily across his back. "You know," Pavel's still-raspy voice murmured, "you were right. Not being virginal definitely helped."
       Sulu chuckled and felt Pavel's answering smile. "So, are you gonna tell me what this was really all about?"
       "What did Nyota tell you?" Pavel wanted to know. Fingers started crawling up Sulu's spine to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
       "Only that you wanted true passion, not sex ed," Sulu replied, the afterglow lethargy beginning to overtake him.
       "Hmm," Pavel grunted.
       "I don't think she was wrong, was she, Pasha?" Sulu raised his head, staring down into the chocolate brown eyes.
       "No, I would not say she was wrong," Pavel replied. His hands were squeezing Sulu's shoulders. "Just not entirely - complete."
       Sulu cocked his head. "You are going to tell me, aren't you?"
       Pavel smiled and pulled Sulu's head back down to his shoulder. Someday, Hikaru. Someday.

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