God, how he loved working on this ship!

The captain's gig was a lovely lightweight vessel -- larger than a shuttle, but still diminutive enough to fit comfortably in one of the Enterprise's bays. It was absolutely criminal that this sweet little yacht didn't see more use. Chekov knew that Captain Kirk was not the sort who went in for ostentation, but still...

The ensign had jumped at the chance to be part of the crew assigned to refitting the craft. He was working after hours now for the pure joy of it. Although he didn't consider himself much of an engineer on a starship scale, he loved this sort of small project. It was a challenge and a pleasure to get the engines to thrum at just the perfect pitch. He enjoyed the feel of all that throbbing metal under his hands that he alone controlled. He could make it do whatever he wanted.

'Almost erotic,' he reflected. The engine's vibrations were having a definite effect on him as he stood, bent over, half in and half out one of the craft's tiny Jefferies tubes adjusting the blue flow of power to the craft's directional controls. The gentle trembling of the craft against his hips as he pressed close to the tube's opening was quite pleasurable.

'Definitely erotic,' he decided, evaluating his steadily increasing physical responce. 'If someone else was here, this could prove quite embarrassing.'

Predictably, at that moment he heard footsteps in the supposedly empty craft behind him. All the engineers had called it a day a few hours ago, but Chekov had a suspicion of who might wander in to check his progress.

"Sulu?" he guessed. "Hand me a capacitor."

A masculine body pressed close to him. An arm snaked its way through the tube's opening, caressing his chest in its voyage to deliver the requested tool.

"Karushka," he scolded, barely able to stand the added stimulus of a man pressed against him in addition to what the engines had already done. He could feel his hips twitching of their own accord. "Please, I'm adjusting the thrust."

There was the sound of a low chuckle as the arm withdrew. Instead of leaving him alone, his visitor let that hand rest on his bottom.

Chekov couldn't suppress the moan that escaped his lips, but kept his eyes on his work. "Karushka," he warned. "I absolutely cannot stop now. The adjustment is very delicate."

A hand reached down to squeeze his erection.

"Sulu? Please don't....." Chekov's protest was cut short by his sharp intake of breath as fingers worked their way inside his pants and tugged down them down along with his shorts. "... stop."

He spread his legs as the fingers crept lower and fondled his balls. Another low moan escaped his lips. This was definitely not a procedure recommended in the technical manuals, but it felt too good to stop. He couldn't stand up straight. The person behind him was grinding his hips against the ensign's backside and holding him down with one hand on the small of his back. Chekov swore to get his revenge on Sulu... slowly.

When the hand removed itself from the warmth of his groin, he groaned with disappointment. A moment later though, it returned and this time it was coated with a viscous substance. The navigator could smell it -- lubricant for the drive shafts. Dripping fingers encircled his drive shaft and began a pistoning action guaranteed to get his thrust into gear. He started panting and moving to maximize the friction.

"Oh, God," he groaned. "The thrusters... "

The fist never stopped pumping but the other hand let go of his back and the next thing he knew, little yacht's engine was racing to match his own. A hand crawled up his side. Fingers entwined with his as they turned the specs on the flux to the maximum setting. The throbbing of the metal beneath and around him was almost unbearably delicious. He rode it only for a few moments before he cried out and came.

Strong hands stroked him as he fought for breath. He felt a gentle kiss pressed to the small of his back and then nothing.

After resting for a moment, he dragged himself out of the tube. He was alone in the gig's engine room. Reaching for a cloth, he wiped his face. He looked around for signs of his visitor. Had it been real? The lubricant slathered on his fading erection told him it hadn't been a daydream. Sulu would pay for this one, he vowed with a smile.

***

After dinner, which did not go as well as he'd hoped due to Sulu's shock and vehement denial of any and all knowledge of his afternoon's activities, Chekov morosely entered the turbolift intending to go home.

"Good evening, Ensign."

Warily, he eyed the man standing beside him. "Good evening, Captain," he answered politely. The last thing he needed was a run-in with his CO.

The turbolift stopped to let Kirk off. As he turned to leave, the captain leaned forward and said softly, "Thrusters at max?"

By the time he made sense of the words and the twinkle in Kirk's eyes, the doors had closed and Chekov was on his way to his own deck. The shock settled in and he shut his eyes tightly.

"Boshe moi," he exclaimed to himself. "Engineers have all the fun."

***end***