Chains of Command: Part 1
by Kira

Chekov stripped off his tunic and dropped it into a pile along with his trousers.   He looked at the messy lump of clothing and, for a moment, entertained the idea of just leaving it there.  If these had been his quarters there would be no doubt in his mind, he would leave them in a heap.  But these weren't his quarters, so he wouldn't.  He retrieved the clothes, folding them neatly before storing them in the drawer his lover insisted he use.  A hot shower was sounding more and more appealing.

The day had been long, and hunched over a navigation console had played havoc with his neck.  The Enterprise was on a routine mission for the next month, a science survey of a cluster of planets which were petitioning the Federation for entry.  The bulk of the work was falling thus far on the science department.

A sticky job for himself and Sulu had arisen in the form of a rather nasty asteroid belt which bordered the planets' system. Navigating was on an ad hoc basis as the planetoids shifted by the moment and piloting was being done manually.  As such, their shifts had been long and tedious, spending hours plugging equations into the computer, anticipating order in chaos.  Tomorrow they would be leaving the belt and  the diplomatic envoy would begin their negotiations the next day.  That meant the Captain would be leaving the ship for days at a time.

"Pavel?"  The ensign in question started as he realized that his lover had walked into the room.  The tenor voice sent shivers up the ensign's back.

"Good evening.  I stopped by the mess hall and picked up some food.  Have you eaten?" Pavel asked as his lover pulled him close.  He closed his eyes as a hand travelled down the smooth planes of his back, stroking insistently.

"No.  But I think I have everything I need right here."  Fingers teased at the waist band of his underpants.  "Bed.  Now."

There was no resisting.  Saying 'no' wasn't an option.  Padding barefoot to the bunk, he allowed himself to be spread over the soft covers.  The strong hands massaged and caressed the muscles of his shoulders, pulling groans from deep within his chest.

"You are so tense.  You should really speak to your commanding officer about too much work, you know."  There was a hint of laughter in the voice that whispered seductively in his ear.  Pavel nodded, letting his head drop forward onto the bed and resting his burning forehead against the cool sheet.

"Need you."  That was the warning, the signal.  Pavel let himself float away, disconnected and free from his body.  He was aware of the searching fingers, the slick coolness and the feeling of fullness.  He could feel the thrusting, the rutting.  But it was a distant memory, a barely felt sensation that impinged on the fringes of his mind.  A hand stroked his soft cock, and he slowly but surely responded to the incessant stroking of both his prostate and his gradually growing erection.

But the feelings of arousal were not pleasure.  There was no pleasure.  His analytic mind took over, cataloguing his reactions in terms of bodily functions, hormones and pheromones.  Biological, not emotional.  There was no emotion for him to give.  The undulations of the hips against his buttocks gently rocked him back and forth on the cot.  With a restrained shout, he came.  He could feel the simultaneous warmth flooding him, signalling his lovers climax.  And in the panting, sweating pause, he imagined cold, empty plains, winds sweeping across the steppe, as desolate as his soul.

A soft kiss to the back of his exposed neck tugged him back to the moment.

"Go have a shower, clean up and get something to eat.   We've got a long day tomorrow, and I can't spare you on the bridge, despite the fact you've been working double shifts."

Pavel could feel the mattress shift underneath him.  He hauled himself up to his feet, wincing at the tenderness that served as a constant reminder of his weakness.  Arms encircled his waist, still clothed.

"Pavel?"  Green-flecked hazel eyes stared intently into Pavel's, a flash of gold on the arm that held him.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Are you okay?  I need you at one hundred percent."

"I'm fine."  Pavel turned on the water, the one concession given to starship captains.  He stepped under the streams, washing away the remains of their coupling.  The diplomatic duties would begin tomorrow.   Freedom . . . for a time.