Title: The Outpost

Author: Karmen Ghia, karmen_ghia@yahoo.com

Series: TOS

Romance Code: S/C

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Copyright 1999 by Karmen Ghia. This is an original work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek. It makes transformative use of Star Trek and is intended only for noncommercial purposes. This work makes "fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; it is not intended to infringe on the intellectual property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of copyright in Star Trek or any of their assignees or licensees. The author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work.

Archive: Okay to archive provided that headers, disclaimers, my name, and email are attached. Please archive complete text only and drop me a note at karmen_ghia@yahoo.com to let me know where it is. Thank you in advance.

Beta by Jane; proofread by Glenice. Many, many thanks.

The Outpost

By Karmen Ghia

A light tapping woke Chekov. He sat up in bed and watched his visitor enter through the window.

"Remember me?" the impeccably dressed Colonel Jackson asked, "from the lake?" Tall, dark eyed and lithe, he seemed to glide more than walk toward the bed.

"Yes, of course." Chekov remembered being kissed, hard, by this man and enjoying every nanosecond of it. However, in the back of Chekov's mind there was a nagging suspicion that he shouldn't be talking to Jackson. Especially since he now noticed his own nakedness and drew a sheet around himself. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I was enjoying our conversation," Jackson said softly, his eyes caressing the ensign. "I was sorry your friends called you away."

"I was enjoying it, too," Chekov said, thinking of the colonel’s strong arms around him and full, warm lips pressed to his... He remembered Spock calling him away that afternoon. There was a strand of trees on the far side of the lake, near the… he couldn't quite remember what it was near just then, as Jackson seated himself on the ensign's bed.

"I think," the colonel said softly, looking at Chekov's mouth, "we had more to say to each other than we did." He drew Chekov into his arms and kissed him deeply. He pulled the sheet away and his strong hands traveled down to caress the ensign's erection.

Chekov writhed against the man he'd met that afternoon with the same abandon he'd felt earlier in the day. Held tight in Jackson's strong arms again, the Russian surrendered his very soul to the mouth crushing his. It was as if this were the lover he'd waited for all his life. He was still moaning when the lights clicked on. "Go away!" he snapped at the room in general, trying to get back to sleep, back to Jackson.

"Mr. Chekov, are you in distress?" Spock asked, standing over him.

"No, sir," Chekov sat up, bunching the sheet to try to hide his erection. Nothing would hide his sexy flush and bruised lips.

"It is very cold in this room, Ensign," Spock stated. "Why do you have the window open?"

"I thought…" Chekov faltered, remembering his dream. "I thought I'd closed it."

"I see." Spock crossed and the closed the window. Catching the barest flash of movement, he peered into the shadowy trees. The Vulcan turned back to the ensign and noted his arousal and his distress. "Chekov, what is wrong?"

"I saw Shelby Jackson again," the navigator blurted. "He was here."

"Dr. Wymoth explained that you could not have met Colonel Jackson today because Colonel Jackson has been dead for fifty-three point eighteen years." Spock repeated patiently. He had never known the ensign to engage in such persistent flights of fancy in the face of…

"It was a dream tonight," Chekov conceded. "But I did see him and speak to him today."

"Mr. Chekov," Spock said soothingly, for him, "I do not know to whom you spoke this afternoon but Dr. Wymoth assures us that it could not have been Colonel Jackson." He watched Chekov frown stubbornly. "Perhaps it was one of the Station's staff playing a practical joke on you."

"We met them all," Chekov insisted, "it was none of them." 'I remember people I've kissed,' he thought ruefully.

Spock was silent. Chekov was young but reliable and it troubled the Vulcan that the navigator continued to insist he'd experienced the impossible. Deciding to take the course of least resistance, Spock suggested they go back to sleep and discuss it in the morning.

Although he agreed, Chekov did not sleep the rest of the night. He could hear Spock moving around as well. After a restless hour, he got up and found Spock reading in the next room.

***

"You look tired," Dr. Wymoth observed.

"I didn't sleep well," Chekov said.

"See Jackson again?"

Chekov deftly caught the component he nearly dropped in surprise. "How did you know?"

"There's a pattern, Ensign." Wymoth leaned back. "I've been here four years and had to send three researchers home because of Jackson's ghost."

"There are no ghosts." Chekov frowned back at his work.

"Maybe not, but there's something here," Wymoth continued. "Always starts the same: they met him in the same grove you did, near the ruins of his outpost. Then he starts to visit them in their bed and romance them. Then they go crazy and I send them home for psychiatric evaluation and therapy. They never come back, some never recover."

"And you have never seen him?" Chekov asked after a long moment.

"No," Wymoth lied, not wishing to discuss his encounter with Jackson at just that moment.

"But you know what he looks like? Enough to tell me who I couldn't possibly have met yesterday," Chekov stated.

"Yes," Wymoth sighed. "When my staff started going crazy I researched the history of this planet. Didn't take much digging to find out Colonel Shelby Jackson died with his men in outpost 601-77 during an attack by the local, now also deceased, pirate tribes. The records are a little sketchy but apparently he and his men died in the very best Starfleet tradition: valiantly, gallantly and heroically. Jackson, however, is the only one sticking around," Wymoth concluded, "the only one I know about, at least."

"I don't believe in ghosts," Chekov affirmed.

"But you believe you saw him yesterday and last night?"

"Last night was a dream."

"Still. It was vivid, wasn't it?"

"… well..."

"There are more things in heaven and earth…" Wymoth wandered out to look for Spock.

Chekov focused on his work so he would not be focused on how sweet Jackson's hands had felt on him last night. 'In the dream,' he reminded himself with some force. A little while later he decided to take a break and go for a walk.

***

"You should take him and go," Wymoth told Spock.

"We have not completed the data collection nor the installation of the new computer processors nor the…"

"It can all go to hell, Commander. Jackson is after Ensign Chekov."

"Explain," Spock said, at a complete loss to fathom the Human's last statement.

"This is how it starts," Wymoth said and proceeded to explain how Jackson would insinuate his presence into the lives of the one with whom he chose to commune and very quickly drive them mad.

"I see," Spock said when he'd determined the doctor had finished. "In any case, we cannot leave right now. The Enterprise will not be within shuttlecraft range for another three days."

"Then someone has to be with him twenty-four hours a day until you do leave here," Wymoth said darkly. "Or you might leave here alone. I sent three members of my team home with the screaming meemees, but before I figured it out, two others died here. Shortly after they met Jackson by the lake, they simply stopped breathing in their sleep. As if something just sucked the life out of them."

Spock nodded. He was remembering that before Chekov woke, he seemed to be struggling with his respiration. "Why have you never reported this to the Institute?"

"The Institute doesn't believe in ghosts anymore than you and Chekov do."

"Perhaps it is not a ghost, perhaps it is an entity." Spock suggested.

"We've had teams here that specialize in energy eaters and they found nothing," Wymoth said. "The conclusion was that there is nothing 'tangible' here and if there was an EE here, why would it confine itself to the youngest members of the group? There are fifty to sixty researchers and staff personnel here at any given time. Why not eat all of us?"

Having no answer for this, Spock merely nodded. "Is Mr. Chekov still repairing your station on the second floor?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

Wymoth cursed and then called one of his staff to go 'sit with' Chekov. The staff member seemed to understand what was going on because they didn't ask any questions and came back with alacrity when they could not find the ensign.

Spock didn't wait to hear what Wymoth said as he bolted out the door and to the trees by the lake.

***

'There are no ghosts,' Chekov told himself as he walked through the trees to the ruined outpost. The dappled sunlight made an inviting pattern on the path and the ensign felt very rational as he drew near the ruins. He had not intended to go there but he felt drawn to it. If only to prove that there are no ghosts he assured himself.

The ruins of outpost 601-77 had been left as a memorial to those that died there defending the newest Federation planet. Colonel Shelby Jackson and his men were heroes in the military.

Jackson had been a commando on the borders of Federation space. He was heavily decorated and quickly promoted. The rumor was that he fell in love and switched from the combat branch of special forces to exploration branch. Exploration was considered safer and therefore a better place for a man planning to marry his lover and settle down on Terra in a few years. And it should have been safe but for a crippled pirate ship crash landing and attacking the outpost. The outpost held out under siege for three weeks after which they were overrun and massacred. The pirates were in turn wiped out by the Federation rescue ships that arrived too late. It was decided to leave the ruins of the outpost as a marker and testament to the defenders' valor.

Chekov was musing over this story, told to him over dinner by Wymoth, as he drew near the ruins. They were almost gone, merely bumps in the moss between the slender trees.

"I'm glad you came back."

Chekov wheeled, his heart pounding in his throat, and found Jackson standing a few feet behind him.

"I'm sorry, Chekov, I didn't mean to frighten you," the colonel said softly. "I'm just glad you're here and maybe we can finish our conversation, okay?" He smiled charmingly and drew closer. "I haven't met anyone like you in a long, long time," he murmured, stroking Chekov cheek.

Chekov was distracted by a commotion in the brush behind him and turned to see Spock rushing into the clearing. He was about to introduce Spock to Jackson, whom he was not sure was definitely not a ghost or apparition but when he turned back to the colonel, Chekov found he was, except for Spock, completely alone.

***

"Am I losing my mind?"

"No, Mr. Chekov, I would not say that," Spock said blandly over dinner that evening. "I do agree with Dr. Wymoth that you have fallen under the influence of something here and we must leave this place as soon as we can. In seventy-five hours and thirty-two minutes. In the interval, we will take Dr. Wymoth's advice and never leave you alone. You will be with a member of the staff here during the day and with me at night."

Chekov nodded wearily. It had been a long day, he'd had very little sleep the previous night and he was badly shaken by his 'encounter' in the trees. At the time he'd almost been angry with Spock for interrupting them but, as Spock hustled him back to the lab, he'd felt very afraid. Afraid of what, he didn't know, just very afraid. "Well. I'm tired, I'll go to bed now."

"If you would please wait a moment, I'll gather my things and join you," Spock said, rising.

Chekov smiled in his mind at that. There were one or two men on the Enterprise he'd have enjoyed hearing that from and known it had different connotations. But Spock simply meant what he said and would sit up all night next to him if necessary. There was comfort in that, the ensign mused as he pulled off his clothes and got into bed. Hearing a light tapping on the window and he looked up but only caught of glimpse of Jackson before Spock opened the door.

Spock stared hard at the window, feeling more than seeing something there and then crossed and drew the curtains. He turned to Chekov and noted that he was very pale and shaking. "Go to sleep, Ensign," he said, dimming the lights. Pulling a chair by the bed, Spock began to read and edit his reports. He kept part of his attention focused on Chekov's respiration with the intention of waking the young man if his breathing became labored. The Vulcan noted with subtle satisfaction that Chekov merely slipped into a peaceful sleep. Spock relaxed and allowed himself to rest various parts of his consciousness. He snapped his head up as Jackson pulled up a chair opposite him.

"I want him," Jackson stated bluntly, but softly so as not to wake Chekov.

"You do not exist, sir," Spock said, also softly, "leave this room immediately."

"I need him," Jackson said simply.

"I refuse to discuss this with a phantom, please leave," Spock said firmly.

"Help me, Vulcan. This is the one."

"Leave now," Spock ordered.

"This is the one that needs love as much as I do."

"You will leave now," Spock growled, something stirring in his solar plexus.

"As much as you need love… his love…"

Spock stood abruptly and found himself facing an empty chair. He looked at Chekov sleeping peacefully, breathing normally and brought his own respiration under control. Through force of will he pushed the apparition's last words out of his mind:

"And if you won't take it, I will."

***

"They were all young, they were all just at that point where they were ready to commit their lives to someone or something," Wymoth said in response to Spock's question. "I've thought about this a lot, Commander, why Jackson went after those five. I felt responsible."

"Did you ever see him?"

"Once. I told Chekov I'd never seen Jackson, but I did see him once," Wymoth admitted. "He told me if I didn't want her, he did." The doctor looked up into Spock's unreadable eyes that nonetheless demanded complete honesty. "I was almost in love with Helene James when she began to see him… I wonder if I'd… declared myself, if he'd left her alone. He said he would but, well, I felt foolish falling in love with a woman half my age but it happened. And she died and I will always wonder if I couldn't have stopped it. Somehow."

"I see," Spock said neutrally, deciding to schedule a rigorous inventory of his relationship with Chekov to begin the moment Dr. Wymoth finished his coffee and left him.

***

Chekov spent the day interviewing staff people, updating programs, documenting materials and methods, transferring data and all of it under the watchful eye of Dr. Wymoth's sympathetic staff.

Most of the lab personnel had been through the last two Jackson outbreaks, as they called them, and so were concerned for Chekov. He fit the criteria perfectly: young and vulnerable and unaware how vulnerable he really was. So they happily kept an eye on him.

Chekov was chafing a little under their cheerful surveillance. He'd gotten a good night's sleep and felt certain he'd never see Jackson again. He was, therefore, rather disconcerted when he glanced out the window and Jackson waved and beckoned from the trees by the lake. Chekov's first and strongest impulse was to go to him, immediately, but, with effort, he resisted it. The ensign moved quickly away from the window and assured his observers that he was all right.

They did not believe him.

***

Spock was tired and concerned enough to let his inner defenses down, be brutally honest with himself and admit that he was… fond of Chekov.

He wondered if fondness was enough to keep Jackson at bay. He decided it was not but he could not manufacture more than fondness for the navigator's intelligence, eagerness, logic, rationality, the color of the skin just below the younger man's collar bone and the gentle slope to the breast…

In Spock's ruthless inventory of his relationship with Chekov he discovered that he did not find the young man unattractive. Rather the reverse, in a strictly platonic manner. Chekov possessed all the physical attributes Spock found pleasing: large dark eyes that were luminous when in thought, flossy dark hair that framed a pointed but symmetrical face, a strong, compact body. The Russian's small stature was pleasing in its way, as if Spock could simply pick him up and protect him from all dangers. Protective mentoring, Spock decided, was a crucial element in his relationship with Ensign Chekov. Protective mentoring and low grade lust, if he went just a little further in his ruminations.

'I have two more nights with him,' Spock considered, 'I am sure I can protect him for two more nights. I will ask one of Dr. Wymoth's people to stay with him tonight. They have more experience in this matter than I do,' he reasoned.

***

"Shhh," Jackson soothed, sitting on Chekov's bed that night, "no need to wake the good doctor if we're quiet, love." He drew Chekov into his arms.

Chekov resisted a little, "You're not real," he tried to insist against Jackson's soft lips.

"Then none of this matters does it?" Jackson murmured against his ear, caressing the navigator's hardening cock.

Chekov, feeling light headed, decided, no, it did not matter, did not matter at all. He sighed and arched into his lover's caress and then blinked against the bright lights as Spock and Wymoth shook him awake. He shivered in the cold room and again when he saw the open window. The window that had been closed when he went to bed. He was gasping for breath, as if he’d had been suffocating.

"I will stay, Dr. Wymoth," Spock said closing the window and locking it. He pulled the drapes back over it.

Wymoth gave him a long look and then said he'd sleep in the other room and to call if they needed him. He said he was a light sleeper and left the room.

Spock looked down at Chekov huddled in his bed.

"How did you know?" Chekov asked.

"I heard you thrashing in your bed," Spock told him, omitting that he'd *sensed* something just prior to hearing Chekov moan voluptuously, which finally woke him. "Move over, Mr. Chekov," he said, climbing in beside the navigator.

"Mr. Spock!"

"Go to sleep, Ensign," Spock ordered, adjusting the covers over them.

"I can't."

"Why not?" Spock settled the stunned youngster in his arms.

"With you… here, like this…"

"Chekov," Spock said firmly, "in a few hours it will be light. Let us simply sleep, and only sleep, until then." Spock focused his protective mentoring instincts, thereby overriding any other instincts that might wish to assert themselves. He ignored the first glow of arousal into nonexistence.

Chekov was doing something similar but with less consciousness. 'This is Spock,' he reminded himself, 'and this is merely to protect me from Jackson.' Nevertheless, the strong arms around him and warm body next to him felt very good and he dozed off feeling safer and more contented than he could ever remember since childhood.

Spock watched him sleep for a while and then slept himself. There was no further visit from Jackson that night.

***

"You can't fight me."

Spock looked up at Jackson standing over the computer station he was working on. He decided to ignore the apparition.

"You can't engage him physically like I can," Jackson continued. "He loves my touch. Yours just makes him nervous."

Spock doubted this, Chekov had seemed very relaxed last night, but refrained from debate with a phantom.

"He needs to be loved, Vulcan, and you aren't *man* enough to do it. I'll take him tonight." Jackson warned as he strolled out of the room. "If you don't," he threw over his shoulder and was gone.

Spock noted his exit but did not look up. He was wondering if Chekov could take stimulants and simply stay awake until they left the planet.

***

"Chekov, have you had relationships with men?" Spock asked bluntly that night.

"One or two," Chekov murmured vaguely.

"Are you uncertain of the number or frequency?"

"I am uncertain of the reason for this question," Chekov stated more firmly. "Sir," he added pointedly.

Spock sighed in his mind and hoped Chekov had the maturity to cope with what he was about to say. "I do not know if it will be possible to hold off Jackson if we do not have sex tonight."

Chekov's mind went completely blank but he managed to recover. "I don't understand."

"When you meet Jackson, he makes overtures to you, is this correct?" Spock asked briskly.

"Yes."

"But you are always interrupted before they can be consummated," Spock stated and paused to watch Chekov, somewhat pinker, nod. "I can only speculate but I believe that consummation would result in your death -- in that Jackson would, through an unknown mechanism, remove your life force from you." Spock steepled his fingers and gazed critically at the navigator.

"Couldn't I just stay awake until we leave?" Chekov asked grimly.

"You might try that. But doesn't Jackson attract you when you're awake?"

Chekov nodded and told Spock about seeing Jackson from the window of the lab in broad daylight. And how unnerving he had found that to be.

Spock did his best to look sympathetic. "Are you repelled by me?"

"No," Chekov said slowly, "I think the problem is the opposite of that."

Spock allowed himself an irrational moment of being *pleased* by this remark and came right back down to normal at Chekov's next utterance.

"How will we be able to work together afterwards?"

"We will put our encounter in the context of a necessary act of survival in adversity."

"Yes, sir," Chekov was grateful that Spock could be matter of fact and detached even in the face of… The Russian tried to ignore the thrill that rushed up his spine. He hoped Spock did not notice.

Spock was deep in his own thoughts. He was considering what, exactly, he and Chekov would do, sexually, that evening. He planned to rely on the ensign's superior knowledge in this area to direct the proceedings in a suitable programme. He decided it was futile to try to project these events and turned his mind to the data they had collected on the local flora and fauna.

They stayed up late. Chekov had locked all the doors and windows and drawn all the curtains tight. Still, he could feel Jackson outside certain windows, waiting to be invited in, waiting for a lapse in vigilance. Chekov was anxious and stressed and gladly let Spock draw him into conversation about the mission, the next mission, the next projected planet fall for the Enterprise, ongoing research on the Enterprise and finally into bed. He put his arms around the Vulcan's neck. "What do you want to do, Mr. Spock?"

"I've no idea," Spock answered and, feeling Jackson at the bedroom window, drew the ensign close and hastily added: "Whatever you like, Mr. Chekov."

The navigator thought about this for a moment. "Right now, I would just like to sleep," he said, looking tired. Impulsively but shyly, Chekov pulled Spock’s head down a little and gently pressed a chaste kiss to the Vulcan’s closed lips. He lingered and had Spock any experience in seduction, he would have taken his cue and deepened the kiss. However, the Vulcan remained very still and Chekov broke off his kiss, snuggled next to his bed partner and went to sleep.

Spock held him close and let his mind wander over the absurdity of the situation. He was fond of Chekov, usually he enjoyed Chekov's company, but he never thought he’d be in this kind of proximity with the younger man. Had never desired it or pursued it and yet here they were. And it was not entirely unpleasant.

"No, I think not unpleasant. Very pleasant actually," Jackson said, pulling a chair up to the bed. "We could share him? Whaddya say, Vulcan?"

Spock ignored the apparition.

"He is appealing," Jackson observed, stroking the ensign’s hair.

Spock removed the colonel’s hand and was surprised by its substance. He looked into Jackson’s sad dark eyes as they studied him.

"What do you think I am, Spock? An hallucination? A vision you share with Chekov?" he asked.

"A danger," Spock said softly so as not to wake Chekov, sleeping peacefully against him.

"I am alone here," Jackson murmured. "I long for one that will stay with me."

"The others?"

"They moved on. To where, I don’t know. I had them with me for a moment and then they were gone."

"And if you kill Chekov, will he not leave you as well?"

"I think he is capable of the kind of devotion I crave," Jackson observed. "I believe he would stay with me."

"And you would deprive him of his life for that," Spock stated.

"You cannot understand," Jackson said. "I lost the one I loved so long ago. I have been searching for another and now I have found him." He reached to draw the ensign out of Spock’s embrace but drew back when Spock tightened his arms around the younger man.

"You cannot have him, Jackson. He is mine," Spock said, rather amazed that he sounded so convincing to his own ears. "Why do you stay here? Why haven’t you followed the ones you killed?"

"Follow them where?"

"To the next… level, manifestation, incarnation. You Humans have so many words for your life after death. Call it any name, but understand me, Colonel, why do you stay here?"

"I feel their longing to be loved," Jackson said, looking at Chekov. "I feel his longing to be loved and I wish to meet it, fulfill it. Because I was never reunited with my lover and still long for her, I can’t rest until I’ve seen that longing fulfilled in someone else. Someone who might come to me but chooses another."

"And yet, to go to you he must die."

"How else can he be with me?"

"Your life was cut short, Jackson, why not leave Chekov the rest of his?"

"Are you so sure he wants it?"

"Yes. Very sure. Mr. Chekov enjoys his life."

"But might prefer what I have to offer."

"Death?"

"Love."

Spock thought about this for a moment. "I do not understand your definition of love, Jackson."

"Of course not, you’ve never surrendered or given yourself to another in your life, Vulcan," Jackson said, reaching for Chekov. "That would be illogical."

Not sure why it was the right thing to do, Spock pressed his lips to Chekov’s and willed Jackson into non-existence.

"If you were enough to keep him, Vulcan, I would leave here and never return," Jackson said quietly.

Spock did not look up and pulled Chekov closer as the navigator began to stir in his arms.

Chekov woke under Spock’s caress and put his arms around the Vulcan. He sighed contentedly and surrendered to the pleasure of Spock holding him close and safe. He let Spock’s tongue press into his mouth and playfully met it with his own.

Spock hiked the blankets around them as the room grew colder. (Jackson had not bothered to close the window when he left.) He adjusted the ensign’s erection against his groin and then adjusted his own hardening cock against the younger man’s hip. Intrigued that he could respond to Chekov on this level, Spock caressed the youngster’s back with his warm hands.

Chekov came up for air and nuzzled the Vulcan’s neck.

"I am sorry to wake you, Chekov," Spock murmured into the ensign’s warm brown hair.

"Oh, it’s perfectly all right, sir," Chekov said softly. He caressed Spock’s chest as he reached for the Vulcan’s erection.

Spock drew back to give Chekov room to caress him. Taking a firm hold on Chekov’s hips, the Vulcan rolled onto his back and pulled the ensign astride him.

Chekov smiled and adjusted his hips over Spock’s groin. He purred with pleasure as Spock’s inhumanly warm hands caressed his cock and balls. Playing his hands over Spock’s erection and testicles, the navigator was impressed by the heat and size of his partner. He wondered, fleetingly, how Spock would feel inside him.

As if reading the Human’s mind, Spock moved his hand between Chekov’s buttocks and, in his usual direct fashion, began to probe the tight opening. Feeling Chekov jump, he gentled his explorations but soon had slipped two fingers inside the younger man. Gently pulsing his fingers inside the ensign, Spock brushed against the Human’s prostate and was impressed by the reaction it provoked. Tying to replicate the result, the Vulcan focused his attentions on that spot until the Human begged him to stop.

"Why, are you not enjoying it?"

"Yes," Chekov panted, "too much." He spread the Vulcan’s generous pre-cum over the head and down the jade shaft and hoped it would be sufficient. At this point, he really didn’t care if it hurt a little as he maneuvered himself over the Vulcan’s slippery cockhead.

Spock removed his fingers and used both hands to spread the Human’s cheeks as well as to support his descent onto his cock. Jumping slightly when Chekov relaxed down and let his cockhead slip inside, Spock removed one hand to stroke the ensign’s rock hard erection.

Chekov, flushed and panting over his lover, relaxed and slowly slid to the base of the Vulcan’s cock. He rested there a moment, impressed that he was able to take it all and astonished by the warmth of the cock he was impaled upon. Feeling Spock subtly thrusting up, Chekov began to slowly move.

Allowing Chekov to establish their rhythm, Spock was soon thrusting up to meet his lover’s strokes. He caressed Chekov’s hardness in the same rhythm and gently stilled the ensign when his thrashing became too intense. Settling them into a calmer motion, Spock reached up with his free hand to pinch the Terran’s hard nipples.

Chekov smiled down at Spock and lengthened his strokes. He closed his hands over Spock’s hand pumping his cock and increased the rhythm. Soon enough, the Russian was clenching around the Vulcan’s cock as his own jerked in the warm hands and came on Spock’s belly. Feeling the Vulcan’s cock jerking inside him caused Chekov to swoon into Spock’s arms.

Feeling the Human’s climax, Spock released his own. Thrusting up, he held Chekov on him his free hand and let his cock pump into the Human. He stroked Chekov’s damp back and shuddered with pleasure under the younger man.

They lay quietly against each other, catching their breath, until Spock suggested one of them close the window as it was getting very cold in the room. Chekov reluctantly agreed and gently rocked his hips until Spock’s penis slipped out. He climbed off the Vulcan and closed the window. Thoughtful as always, he then went into the bathroom, brought back a warm, damp towel and tenderly cleaned them both up. Tossing the towel on the chair that he thought hadn’t been by the bed before, Chekov folded himself into Spock’s arms and went back to sleep.

Spock lay awake, allowing himself to enjoy his nerves thrumming with residual pleasure and Chekov warm and soft against him. He waited for Jackson to reappear and dropped off when he felt sure the colonel was no longer anywhere near him and Chekov. No longer near them, the outpost, the planet or in any place Spock might sense him. Knowing Jackson had gone, suspecting it was because he’d seen longing fulfilled, Spock smiled in his mind and went to sleep.

***

"Thank you for last night. I enjoyed it very much," Chekov blurted in the shuttlecraft the next afternoon.

"You are welcome, Ensign," Spock said blandly, guiding the little ship to its rendezvous with the Enterprise.

Knowing this might be the last time they were alone for quite some time, Chekov screwed up his courage. "Could it happen again?"

"Specify, Mr. Chekov," Spock said blandly.

"The sex," he said bluntly. "Could we have sex again?"

Spock turned his full attention on the blushing ensign and paused before answering. "Not on the ship, nor on duty," he said at last, admitting to himself that a) he had enjoyed making love to Chekov, and b) he would like to make love to him again. "However, if we can synchronize our shoreleaves and be discrete, I see no reason we could not have sex again."

Chekov stopped blushing and nodded reasonably. "So there is something to look forward to," he observed.

"Indeed, Ensign, indeed."

***

Many years later, when Wymoth retired to Terra, he sent Spock and Chekov, now living together in a research station in sector 754-62, a note to tell them that Colonel Shelby Jackson was never seen again after they left the planet.