Wakefulness

By Karmen Ghia

Sometimes Kirk woke in the middle of the night and looked at Chekov sleeping next to him.

Kirk was in bed reading when the ensign had come in very late that evening.

"You work hellish hours, Pavel," Kirk commented when Chekov finished his shower and was toweling his hair dry.

"Yes, well…" Chekov said vaguely, climbing over Kirk and into their bed.

"Yes, well, what?" Kirk drew the younger man into his arms.

"The navigation project failed." Chekov looked up at Kirk with very depressed eyes. "There will be a meeting tomorrow morning," Chekov glanced at the bedside chrono. "Or rather this morning, to tell Admiral Calhoun we failed."

Kirk held him close and told him to get some sleep. He watched Chekov drop off into the sleep of the exhausted and fell asleep himself.

But now Kirk was awake and thinking about Chekov. Kirk had been a navigator himself in his younger days and thought he knew something about it until he tried to follow a conversation between Dr. Maldonado, the head of theoretical navigation and Chekov's boss, and Chekov one evening. The captain was lost after five minutes. It had confirmed for him what Spock had always said about the Russian, that, in addition to being a fine officer and excellent navigator, Chekov was a brilliant mathematician. Kirk had allowed his awe to linger as far as bedtime, when he let awe recede and reestablished lust-tinged affection supreme.

But now he was wondering how serious the project failure was for Chekov. No doubt the ensign would, as usual, take it as a personal failing on his part. That was Chekov; diligent, sensitive, thorough, precise, proactive, and anxious when he didn't feel completely in control of all the details. Thinking back, Kirk recalled several other nights when Chekov had worked late and come home complaining that he was nervous about some part of the project outside of his area. Kirk had made sympathetic noises but basically told him not to worry over what was not in his control. In view of the project's failure, Kirk now wondered if that had been good advice.

Chekov rolled onto his back and out of Kirk's arm. This was not unusual; Chekov normally went to sleep in Kirk's arms but seldom woke up there, as if some need for somnambulistic autonomy were asserting itself in the younger man.

Kirk didn't ponder his relationship with Chekov overly much. They'd been together for several months. Long enough for the gaga-stage to be over and the day-to-day contentment, with the frequent flash of pure bliss, to have set in. They were both busy men; Kirk in the Fleet diplomatic section and Chekov in theoretical navigation. Theirs was a peaceful love affair that was mostly passionate, always considerate and usually mellow. Kirk seldom wasted time thinking about it except when he woke in the middle of the night and found himself watching Chekov sleeping next to him.

When he did think about Chekov, Kirk felt guilty. If he was honest, the captain had to admit that the main reason he was with Chekov was convenience and comfort. Chekov was easy to live with and didn't make any demands Kirk wasn't happy to meet. He was good in bed and pleasant, usually, out of it. Kirk found that comforting. He also found it comforting to live with two of his former bridge crew.

Speculating on what Spock and Chekov were doing in Spock's bed on Tuesday nights was futile, especially since, when questioned about it, Chekov merely said they talked for a few moments and then they slept. Kirk could never see himself asking Spock about this and he suspected if he had, he would have gotten the exact same answer. The question Kirk should have asked was what did they get out of it. The person who knew and understood the Spock-Chekov attraction from the beginning was in Breman, building Courier class starships. However, it did not occur to Kirk to ask Scotty about it so the captain continued to wonder.

Perhaps sensing he was observed or perhaps feeling the dawn on the window, Chekov stretched and woke. He looked up at his lover and smiled sleepily.

"Go back to sleep, love," Kirk suggested half heatedly, knowing Chekov liked to make love in the morning.

"Why?" the navigator asked, reaching for the older man.

"You've had so little sleep…"

"Fuck sleep. Let's make love," he whispered against Kirk's lips.

Kirk could not but see the wisdom in this fine idea and kissed him back. 'The young,' he thought wryly as he rolled on top of Chekov, 'don't need much sleep.'

The End

The Bagpipes, by Karmen Ghia

Sc/C, NC-17, 1/1

Chekov woke to the muted sound of bagpipes. Knowing he was alone he rolled over to look for Scott anyway.

'Of course he's playing the pipes,' Chekov thought as he got up. 'If not him then it's a ghost.' He padded over the to the big, nearly soundproof, windows overlooking the shop floor and watched Scott, dressed only in a kilt, slowly walking around playing his pipes. The Russian watched his lover for a moment longer until the need to urinate drove him into the bathroom. Since he was in there already, he decided to shower. He remembered last time Scott had woken in the middle of the night and played the pipes to help him think. The engineer had been particularly amorous when he returned to bed, having thought out whatever was bothering him. Chekov was dearly hoping it would be the same tonight.

It was nice to have hot water showers for as long and as often as he wanted. Chekov considered it one of the benefits of the posting to Starfleet headquarters. Living with Scott above one of the shops in the fleet shipyards in Oakland was not the most comfortable situation in the world but the novelty and romance of living with Scott offset whatever reservations Chekov had about it. Besides, on Tuesday night he got to sleep in Spock's highly automated and overheated apartment in the fleet housing complex.

Life was good, Chekov considered, as he padded across the wide cold floor and slipped back into bed. He set the bedside lamp on low and sat listening to Scott playing. It was a sad sound but Chekov had learned it didn't mean Scott was sad; merely thoughtful.

In the course of their romance, Chekov had learned that Montgomery Scott was the most patient and tender of men. The engineer didn't actually have very many moods so the rare outburst of anger or joy stood out very much in the plain of his vast even temper and seeming serenity. Scott was in good humor when his engines were working at maximum efficiency. His health, his finances, his friends, his lover were simply a pleasant accompaniment to the core of his life: warp drives and the ships around them.

However, Chekov had discerned beneath the vast even temper a melancholy. Over time and because the navigator actually listened to what Scott said to him, he concluded that this melancholy stemmed from Scott's disappointment that the sentient beings around him were fragile, flawed and simply didn't work as well and wouldn't last as long as his warp drives and the ships around them. Chekov, when he thought about it, was still tying to decide if Scott considered this an inexcusable design flaw in creation or simply the limits of being that could not be transcended and in the first case his lover was outraged by shoddy work and in the second he was saddened by the prison of flesh and bone beings are cursed to inhabit.

Chekov stretched voluptuously remembering how much fun they'd had with each other in their respective prisons of flesh and bone a few days ago. Scott was a wonderful lover: patient, thorough, reliable. He allowed Chekov a certain leeway for inventiveness but generally kept the youngster on a short rein. In many ways this made Chekov feel safe because there were few surprises with Scott and those were only pleasant ones. Such as that Scott liked to make love in the shower now and then. This had been his hope when he stepped into the shower but, alas, it had not transpired.

So, he was laying on his back, mulling over a navigation plan he was working on in his office when Scotty finally came to bed.

"I dinea wake you, did I, lad?" Scott asked, setting his bagpipes in their case and unclasping his kilt.

"I like to wake up when you come back to bed, Monty." Chekov smiled at the engineer crossing the room.

"Aye, that pleases me," Scott murmured, slipping into bed and pulling the Russian into his arms.

Chekov's only answer was to tighten his arms around Scott and welcome his lover's tongue in his mouth. He drew his hips back to accommodate their burgeoning erections and then forward to rub them together.

Breaking the kiss, Chekov urged Scott onto his back and kissed a trail down to the Engineer's cock. He ran his lips around the helmet and down along the sides. He engulfed the head and slowly drew the entire shaft down his throat. Chekov was quite proud of this and knew Scott appreciated it very much.

Scott interrupted Chekov to pull him into a sixty-nine and applied himself to pleasuring his lover. He twined his tongue around the shapely head of Chekov's cock and sucked on his balls, something that drove the ensign wild. Scott was quite adept at oral sex and very quickly brought Chekov off.

He pulled Chekov up to him and kissed him hard. Keeping one arm around the younger man, Scott reached for the lubricant on the bedside table. Scott gently made the entrance to Chekov's body slick and relaxed. Quickly lubing his erection, Scotty spread Chekov's legs a little wider and rolled him forward.

Arranging his legs comfortably around Scott's waist, Chekov angled his hips up to meet the Engineer's cock, which gently slipped inside him. No need to be quiet, Chekov let out a groan of pleasure and thrust wildly against his lover.

It was Scott's opinion that Chekov made the most charming noises while making love so he did not discourage him at all. There was no one in the dock to disturb anyway. He bent to kiss his lover when he hit bottom. Chekov quieted somewhat while Scott rested but was more vocal when the engineer began to fuck his lover with long, hard strokes.

Chekov thrust up to meet Scott's rhythm. He rolled his head on the pillow in pure animal pleasure and looked up at the intent Engineer very nicely fucking him.

Scott shortened his thrusts and slid all the way in. Scott paused to recover his breath and composure; it was too soon to cum anyway. To distract Chekov while he rested, Scott ran his tongue over the younger man's shoulder and then gently bit him.

Chekov moved his legs Scott's waist and hooked his feet behind the Engineer's ass. He looked Scott right in the eye as if daring him to try to pull out.

Which is what Scott then tried to do. It became a match of strengths, Scott withdrawing and Chekov forcing him back in. Eventually Chekov surrendered to his own pleasure and let go of Scott's ass. He drew his legs up to his chest to give Scott a better angle of penetration so the Engineer could fuck him silly. He thrashed wildly against Scott as he came and was crushed against Scott's warm chest as the Engineer shuddered into his own profound orgasm.

They lay panting against each other. Scott groaned softly into Chekov's neck and Chekov stroked his broad shoulders as he shivered with pleasure beneath the older man.

After a few spent moments, Scott withdrew and rolled onto his back. He pulled Chekov to his side and settled him on his shoulder. He stroked the tousled dark head and held him close as he drifted off into happy sleep.

Chekov stayed awake for a moment longer, observing that his life had become a very happy life with Scott and no other.

>end<

Title: The Diplomatic Situation

Part: 1/1

Series: TOS

Romance Code: K/C

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Of course.

Archive: COCO and ASCEML; everybody else please drop me a line, thanks

Summary: Kirk reviews his relationship with Chekov (again).

Disclaimer: Copyright 2000 by Karmen Ghia. This original work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek makes transformative use of Star Trek for noncommercial purposes. This work makes "fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; intended not to infringe on the intellectual property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of Star Trek copyright or their assignees or licensees. Author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work.

Thanks to Jane Skazki for the beta.

THE DIPLOMATIC SITUATION

James T. Kirk was not the most patient being in the galaxy or even the greater Bay area. Much as he enjoyed Chekov, he frequently had to remind himself that Chekov was no longer in his chain of command; Chekov was a fully functional adult male; Chekov was his lover, not his protegee; there was absolutely no benefit in yelling at Chekov and worse, Chekov either yelled back or sulked for days. More annoying, from Kirk's point of view, was the sharp temper his lover had when provoked. It was terrifying and Kirk had had no inkling of it in their previous association. Of course not: a junior officer who displayed that kind of anger, said sharp things and generally got the last word would have been off his bridge immediately and off his Enterprise as soon as possible.

Kirk pushed away from his desk and focused on a watercolor of an ancient sailing ship on the wall of his office. He released the breath he'd been holding and began to calmly sort through his annoyance with Pavel. He noted that when he was angry with the Russian he thought of him as 'Chekov,' but when feeling more tender, as 'Pavel.' This was not very helpful but it indicated he was calming down.

'If Pavel is going to be this much of a distraction ...' Kirk cut off the thought. 'Nah. He said no, he seldom says no to me, I'll get over it.'

Kirk reviewed the conversation that had so provoked him. He'd just received a last minute invitation to a reception for the new Andorian ambassador. 'Bring an escort,' had been part of the message - an order, not a request. Of course, Kirk had wanted Chekov with him but Chekov had other plans he chose not to alter.

'Well, why should he?' Kirk thought calmly. 'He doesn't work for Admiral Psycho,' referring to Admiral Pynchon, head of the Fleet diplomatic corp, which was where Kirk had landed when he was reassigned to Fleet headquarters. Kirk had a moment of regret for Pynchon, who was under the gun in this matter.

The Andorians were acting strangely. Yesterday they were packing their embassy and leaving Terra forever. Today they were installing a new ambassador and demanding all the pomp and ceremony of a full scale diplomatic reception. Kirk had much sympathy for whatever poor devil drew the duty of putting this huge party on in a mere five hours. Emergencies were not uncommon in Admiral Pynchon's department and they were handled and handled well, but no one ever enjoyed them.

Admiral Pynchon was eccentric in just the right amounts to be an excellent diplomat. He was a hell to work for: impulsive, capricious, domineering, demanding. However, all was forgiven every time the old boy pulled the Federation's chestnuts out of the fire, which was frequently as the latest crop of Federation diplomats were complete idiots. This meant that Pynchon and his staff, which included Kirk, had to move fast more often than they'd like. This stupid reception was a prime example: the Andorians had been offended by one the Federation council undersecretaries and now it was up to the Fleet, which they trusted implicitly, to smooth them down and get the situation back on track. Only Pynchon and his staff could do this because they were fast, sleek and experts every one of them. Pynchon had honed his command skills defending the Federation borders. He'd never quite lost the 'red alert' mentality but most of the time it served him and his department well.

Chekov didn't work in a 'red alert' mentality. He worked for Admiral Teddy Bear, better known as Admiral Calhoun.

In retrospect, Kirk realized he must have been slightly in love with Pavel at the end of the five year mission. He'd been extremely pleased that Pavel was assigned to the theoretical navigation department in Calhoun's staff because he knew that Calhoun would not allow the ensign to be mistreated. At the time, Kirk had merely chalked up his concern for Chekov to a captain's pride in a junior officer who'd drawn a good posting. HA! Yeah, right.

Kirk wanted Chekov with him that night because it was an important event and he found his young lover's presence comforting. As he had found all his bridge crew comforting in difficult situations on the Enterprise. But it was Tuesday night, the night Pavel spent with Spock, and he would not rearrange it to accompany Kirk to the reception.

The captain had been fully aware of this arrangement between Spock and Chekov well before he became Chekov's lover and moved in with them. He even welcomed it; the respite from the intensity of his relationship with Chekov was just what they needed. It was an intense relationship because they were both intense men and Chekov was strung a little higher than Kirk had noticed before. 'Is that true?' Kirk wondered. 'No, it's not. I'm still pissed off at him for turning me down.' He shook himself, got out his little black book and made a date with the first woman he called. That settled, he focused on the report he was reading until it was time to go home and dress.

He found Chekov waiting for him there.

"I'm sorry I said no," Chekov said, snuggling into Kirk's arms. "Spock thinks I should go with you."

"I've already made other plans, Pavel." Kirk pressed a fatherly kiss to the Russian's forehead.

"Oh, good," Chekov said cheerfully. "So, I'll see you tomorrow," and sauntered off to help Spock make dinner. Kirk usually spent Tuesday nights with whomever he was moved to spend them. If Chekov ever felt jealous, he did a superb job of hiding it from everyone. Kirk suspected his lover did not feel jealous.

Kirk watched him go, marveling yet again at the ensign's lack of neediness and insecurity, and turned back to his dress uniform. He spent a moment chatting with Spock and Chekov before his car arrived.

***

The reception and the lovemaking following it had been an unmitigated success for Kirk. He returned to his office the next morning and changed into a fresh uniform he kept there for emergencies. He sent his dress uniform to the laundry; it had champagne all over it due to the reception going into warp around eleven. 'Pavel would have loved it,' he thought and decided they would have fun tonight and didn't give it another thought the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be a long, long day and Kirk did not get home until late that night. He found Chekov waiting up for him, whiling away the time with a reader.

"Did Commander Bhoghosstian really rip the Pyninarian Ambassadress' dress off last night?" was the ensign's first question.

"As a matter of fact, he did," Kirk answered, shouldering out of his tunic. "How did you hear about it?"

"There's an article on the wires about the reception," Chekov admitted, looking back down at his reader. "It says the civil police were called and Admiral Karbanova convinced them to go away."

"That she did." Kirk stepped into the shower and didn't catch Chekov's last question. "What?" he called, tuning off the taps.

"I said, did Asala really perform? I thought she only did forum concerts and vids."

"Someone on Pynchon's staff grew up with her and she sang at the reception as a favor," Kirk said, toweling his hair dry. "Just she and a pianist were all the music we had last night." He hid his smirk while he waited for the next question.

"Was she good?"

"The music was quite nice," Kirk drawled, slipping into bed next to the Russian. "Although, she's not my favorite singer, I thought she did a credible job. Sorry you didn't go?" He pulled Chekov into his arms.

"Oh, no." Chekov was blasé. "I had a perfectly nice evening with Spock."

"That's good." Kirk wasn't listening, he was much too interested in kissing Chekov's throat.

Kirk was pleased with the enthusiasm Chekov had for the next invitation to a diplomatic reception, which was not on a Tuesday night, fortunately.

**end**

Title: The Romp

Part: 1/1

Series: TOS

Romance Code: K/C

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Of course.

Archive: COCO and ASCEML; everybody else please drop me a line, thanks

Summary: Kirk and Chekov spend an evening together.

Disclaimer: Copyright 2000 by Karmen Ghia. This original work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek makes transformative use of Star Trek for noncommercial purposes. This work makes "fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; intended not to infringe on the intellectual property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of Star Trek copyright or their assignees or licensees. Author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work.

Thanks to Jane Skazki for the beta.

The Romp

By Karmen Ghia

"Let's stop by my office and I'll show you the new artwork Starfleet installed," Kirk suggested, leading Chekov into the darkened office building.

It was late. They'd had dinner with Captain Brice and his wife and then stopped for drinks. The Brices were nice people but very boring so the drinks and the walk were Chekov's reward for helping Kirk with his social obligation.

At this point in his relationship with Kirk, he would have happily sat through dinner with Cossacks if that's what Kirk wanted. So he was also delighted to look at a new painting that annoyed Kirk.

The diplomatic section's offices were absurdly lavish and Chekov readily agreed that the new painting in the conference room was offensively ostentatious. Even the frame was a nightmare. The Russian's request to see Kirk's office was happily granted.

Kirk watched Chekov toss his overcoat on the couch and move about the room. He sat at his desk admiring his young lover. Very considerately, Kirk moved his chair back for Chekov to go down on his knees before him.

Chekov was working Kirk's cock down his throat when they were startled by a noise in the hallway. Some ancient survival instinct inspired the ensign to dive under Kirk's desk.

Kirk had barely fumbled his erection back into his pants when Admiral Pynchon (better known as Admiral Psycho), his section chief, barged into his office.

"NO, NO, DON'T GET UP!" He waved Kirk, who had half risen, back into his chair. "WHAT KEEPS YOU HERE SO LATE, KIRK?" Pynchon boomed. He'd seen lots, many said too much, combat and was always on 'red alert.' It was hard on his staff but he was a great diplomat in spite of, or perhaps because of, his quick wit, surety and, oddly, volume. Non-Terrans, even the Vulcans, were impressed that someone could talk so loud and make so much sense.

"I'm..."

"WORKING! OF COURSE. THAT'S WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU, KIRK. YOU GET THE JOB DONE! WHAT ARE YOU LABORING OVER?"

"Ah... the..."

"TOO BAD YOU'RE NOT INVOLVED IN THE MIRC 6 NEGOTIATIONS." Pynchon began to stalk around the room, as he did when thinking something out. "I COULD USE YOUR GOOD HEAD THERE."

Kirk gently kicked at Chekov, whom he could feel laughing against his legs.

"THESE ARE DIFFICULT TIMES, KIRK," Pynchon continued, pacing like a tiger. "IN THE OLD DAYS, WE WERE ALL BUILING A BETTER GALAXY. A SAFER FUTURE. AN INHERITANCE FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS. NOWADAYS, WE ONLY SEEM TO BE INTERESTED IN TRADE AGREEMENTS, FINANCIAL ARRANGEMENTS AND EXCHANGE RATES. WHERE IS THE ROMANCE IN THAT, I ASK YOU, KIRK; WHERE IS THE SOUL, THE FIRE, THE PASSION IN MARKET DRIVEN DIPLOMACY?" The admiral focused on Chekov's overcoat on the couch for a moment before continuing: "THESE ARE NOT TIMES FOR AN OLD WARHORSE LIKE ME. IN THE OLD DAYS, WE KNEW WHERE WE STOOD IN SPACE. ANY DOUBT WAS A REASON FOR THE KLINGONS TO ATTACK US." He seemed momentarily distracted by Kirk's overcoat, neatly hung on its peg by the door. "THERE'S NOTHING QUITE LIKE A BORDER SKIRMISH THAT BLOSSOMS INTO WAR TO FOCUS A FEDERATION'S PRIORITIES. STRESS AND ANXIETY KEEPS EVERYBODY IN LINE. EVERY ENERGY IS FOCUSED ON THE THREAT OF BEING OVERRUN BY THE KLINGON OR WHATEVER BARBARIAN HORDES AND NOBODY'S WORRIED ABOUT CURRENCY FLOWS OR TARRIFFS. HELL, KIRK, NOWADAYS EVEN THE KLINGONS HAVE A CENTRAL BANK AND ARE MAKING DEALS WITH FINANCIAL TYPES DOWNTOWN. WHERE, I SAY, WHERE HAVE THE CLEAR CUT NEEDS AND OBJECTIVES GONE, I ASK YOU, KIRK, WHERE HAVE THEY GONE?" Pynchon lunged for Chekov's overcoat and shook it like a terrier shakes a rat until he could read the identifier tag in the collar. "AND JUST WHO IS ENSIGN PAVEL A. CHEKOV, SERIAL NUMBER 656-5827B AND WHY IS HIS COAT HERE?" He tossed Chekov's coat back on the couch and loomed over Kirk's desk as if challenging the captain to make a run for it.

"Ensign Chekov is under my desk, sir." Kirk said this in a level voice, calmly meeting Pynchon's captain-frying gaze.

"IS HE? WELL, HAVE HIM COME OUT." Pynchon surveyed the ensign before him. "CHEKOV, WELL, LET'S HAVE A LOOK AT YOU." Pynchon always assumed a bluff, good-natured attitude with younger officers not in his command and he was genuinely interested to hear Chekov's history and punctuated it with various comments of his own: "ONE OF THE BEST ACADEMY CLASSES EVER; FINE TRADITION IN NAVIGATION (YOU WERE THERE ONCE, KIRK); WONDERFUL SHIP, THE ENTERPRISE, FORMER XO'S FATHER IS ONE OF THE MOST REASONABLE DIPLOMATS I'VE EVER MET; EXPERIMENTAL NAVIGATIONS IS ONE OF THE FINEST DEPARMENTS IN THE FLEET, LUCKY YOU WERE POSTED THERE AFTER THE FIVE YEAR MISSION, ARLO CALHOUN IS ONE OF THE BEST ADMIRALS WE'VE GOT, HE'S A WONDERFUL CHIEF, I HEAR, WE CALL HIM ADMIRAL TEDDY BEAR 'CUZ HIS STAFF ADORE HIM. SO, KIRK'S YOUR OLD CAPTAIN; FINE THING TO KEEP TRACK OF YOUR OLD SHIPMATES, FINE THING. . ." While spinning out his pleasantries at the top of his voice, Pynchon was staring at the desk, actually, staring under the desk as if trying to get his mind around something. He fixed Kirk with a steely eye while still addressing Chekov, "AND WHERE DO YOU LIVE, YOUNGSTER?"

"Orinda, sir."

"DON'T YOU LIVE IN ORINDA, KIRK?"

"Yes, sir." Kirk blandly met the admiral's eyes, which narrowed menacingly, and added, "with Chekov."

"AH HA!" Pynchon slammed his fist on the desk. "WELL, CARRY ON, GENTLEMEN, CARRY ON." He left the room in the highest good humor, fondly remembering his own youthful romps, and glad to know the younger generation still knew how to have a good time. It was refreshing, and he had a good, long, loud, laugh about it as soon as he got the door of his office closed.

**end**

Title: Wakefulness

Part: 1/1

Author: Karmen Ghia

Series: TOS

Romance Code: K/C

Rating: G

Feedback: To list.

Archive: COCO CHANNEL someday

Disclaimer: Copyright 2000 by Karmen Ghia. This original work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek makes transformative use of Star Trek for noncommercial purposes. This work makes "fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; intended not to infringe on the intellectual property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of Star Trek copyright or their assignees or licensees. Author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work.