This dream was different than the first. There was no elaborate setting. There was just the two of them in a darkened room. He stepped to the elegantly naked body on the bed before him. Putting one hand on the flat, warm stomach to steady himself, he knelt. He kissed the long throat respectfully, and then pressed his lips against one soft earlobe. His tongue traced its curve up to the hard point. He sucked the tip gently.

The Vulcan heartbeat beneath the warm skin quickened.

His lips moved on to brush against the high forehead, long nose, firm lips, and strong chin. He lingered for a moment at the pulse point at the base of the neck, excited by its throbbing. As his mouth travelled down to entertain each hardened nipple in turn, his hand strayed to the place where the Vulcan's body was beginning to rouse and stir.

As that flesh grew hard beneath his touch, his mouth seemed drawn there as well. Abandoning slow progress, his tongue skipped along the delights of the hard muscled stomach in favor of this distraction. His lips explored the stiffened flesh, meticulously cataloguing its shape and textures from base to tip.

Proceeding avidly, he enclosed the Vulcan completely within his mouth, treating him to long, exacting pulls of his lips.

The Vulcan rose to sitting. Strong arms were placed around him and pulled him up.

He looked into that stern face, fearful that he'd misjudged.

A sudden, deep kiss assured him that was not the case before those strong arms began to guide him to lie face down on the bunk.

He could feel himself tremble in anticipation as powerful hands positioned him. A sigh of anguished contentment escaped from him as the hard, hot flesh moistened by his own lips opened, entered, and possessed him completely.

Chekov was beginning to believe that his shift on the bridge would never end. For the second time in as many minutes, he checked the time. Only problem was after this shift, then what? Go to his cabin and sleep... perchance to dream....

He closed his eyes and silently shook his head.

"Hey, Chekov."

The navigator jumped at the sound of his name.

"You all right, buddy?" Sulu asked, reaching across the helm to put a hand on his arm.

"Yes. Yes." The ensign took in a deep breath and straightened in his seat. "I was just... thinking."

"Sure you're okay?" The hint of a smile played around the helmsman's lips. "Getting enough sleep?"

The navigator frowned at this levity. "Yes," he said pointedly. "I am. Thank you for inquiring."

After Sulu had grinned and turned away, Chekov pretended to find some readings that needed adjustment in the upper right hand corner of his panel. As casually as possible, he checked the Science station out of his eye. The Science Officer seem to be turning back to his station just as he looked in that direction.

Chekov took a in a deep breath and pushed the call button for the turbo lift. This was pure madness. He had no idea what he was going to say when he got to Spock's quarters - 'Sir, I'm currently having a series of homoerotic dreams in which you play a central role...' It was lunacy to believe that simply by confessing to the Vulcan that somehow he could exorcise whatever demons were making him have such strong fantasies.

He was on the verge of turning around and going back to his cabin when the lift doors opened.

He froze. "Sir?"

The Science Officer gestured him inwards. "I wish to speak with you, Ensign."

Chekov obeyed numbly.

"Deck Twelve," the Vulcan ordered the controls.

The ensign took a place standing beside the Science Officer and stared remorsefully at the top of his boots. His stomach was churning. He felt very small next to the Vulcan's superior height. The situation was unpleasantly reminiscent of the time the headmaster of his school had caught him talking about what an idiot his geometry teacher was.

"Maintenance lock," Spock commanded unexpectedly. "Authorization SP-74."

Chekov blinked at him as the lift slowed, made a sharp turn, and jolted softly to a complete standstill.

"There is a matter between us that requires some privacy," the Vulcan explained shortly. He pressed a few buttons on a control panel, then turned to the ensign, folding his hands formally behind his back. Chekov unthinkingly mimicked him. "You have been having vivid dreams...."

'He knows!' The ensign closed his eyes, consumed with guilt and shame so great he was suprized that he didn't simply sink into the decking below.

"You are under the impression that these fantasies are being generated unilaterally," the Science Officer continued. "You are mistaken. I, too, am experiencing and perhaps co-creating them."

Following this admission, there was an uncomfortable pause during which both of them took the opportunity to study the flooring.

Spock cleared his throat. "I am unsure of the circumstances that have provoked this phenomenon. I assume it stems in some way from the unusual nature of the accidental meld that took place between us."

Their eyes met. The gazes that were intended to be steady and professional connected with suprizing electricity.

Spock looked away and cleared his throat. "Until such a time as a solution can be found, we must take care. Despite the..."

He paused once more as he looked into the ensign's eyes. His lips twitched as he reached out and brushed Chekov's bangs off his forehead as if military decorum demanded he do so.

"Despite the strong physical attraction that seems to exist between us..." he began once more, then paused again and cleared his throat. "Despite the strong physical attraction that seems..."

He broke off, leaned forward, and gave the ensign a hard, quick kiss on the lips. He then took in a deep breath and frowned. "There are barriers of age, rank, culture, and...."

He was forced to pause, take the ensign firmly by the shoulders and kiss him again. Chekov stayed very still within his grasp, but could not stop himself from welcoming the crushing pressure against his lips.

Spock broke off abruptly, straightened his uniform, and took in another deep breath. "There are, as I mentioned, numerous significant differences between us in age, rank...."

Tilting his head to one side discontentedly, the Vulcan reached out, straightened the navigator's tunic, then gave Chekov's face an awkward pat. Twisting his lips critically, he turned and punched new orders into the lift controls.

"This would seem to be counterproductive," he explained as the mechanism sprang back to life. Within a few uneasy breaths, the doors opened onto a busy corridor. "I will contact you after I have meditated on the matter further."

"Yes, sir," the ensign said obediently as the Science Officer exited.

The lift doors closed, leaving him alone.

Chekov sighed, shook his head, and shrugged. "See you in my dreams."