Nyota Uhura dabbed at the sweaty tendrils of hair hanging limply across her forehead and squinted up at the hazy pink sky.

Just their luck that shoreleave coincided with the hottest time of the Melorian year. Oh well, a shoreleave was a shoreleave and she had very pleasant company on this one.

Ensign Chekov paused to shove the sweat soaked bangs off of his own forehead.

The young Russian seemed even more uncomfortable in the heat than the Swahili communications officer.

He had spread their picnic blanket in the shade of an Ohooba tree. The overgrown stalk of celery wasn't what they would consider a real tree, but it was the closest thing the planet had to offer.

The task completed, Chekov plopped down onto the blue and white checkered cloth, panting like a Labrador Retriever (or a Russian Wolfhound as the case may be.)

"If you're that hot, Pavel, why don't you take your shirt off?" Uhura chuckled as she sat down beside him, tucking her legs primly beneath her. "We are on shoreleave. You aren't required to be in uniform."

"You would not mind?" Chekov asked although he had already risen to his knees to follow her suggestion.

"Heavens no, Sugar!" She exclaimed as she began pilfering through the picnic hamper. " This heat is enough to make me want to throw propriety to the wind and strip."

Chekov froze, half out of the gold tunic. He was glad that Uhura was too busy checking out their provisions to notice the blush he felt burning his already heat-reddened cheeks.

By the time he sat back down beside her, she had separated their individual lunches and was pouring them a much needed drink.

While he was busy guzzling his spring water, Uhura let her eyes wander over the navigator's lean but well-muscled form, appreciating the way he filled out his sweat-dampened, black t-shirt. She looked away quickly as he lowered the cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"It's too hot to eat anything heavy. Whatta ya say we skip the main course and go straight to the dessert?" Uhura suggested with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

"That is an excellent idea." Chekov agreed, flashing Uhura a pearly smile as he leaned across the lieutenant to reach into the basket.

Despite the heat and the sweat, Uhura thought that the nape of the ensign's neck (which was about three inches from her nose) smelled deliciously masculine.

"W-what did you bring?" She asked to distract herself from staring at the smooth, pale spot beneath Chekov's right ear that had always secretly appealed to her. So sweet and vulnerable...

"Strawberries Romanoff." Chekov said, tipping the container so that

Uhura could see the rich swirls of red and white. "What do you have?"

Uhura smiled wickedly. Tendrils of icy mist rose for the barest fraction of a second as her container opened with a pop-hiss.

"I've got some of Dr. McCoy's old fashioned, non-replicated, once-in-a blue-moon, Southern-style, homemade ice cream."

"Ohhh, what flavor?" Chekov asked, leaning forward to get a peek.

"Why, Gee-oww-gia peach, of course." The communications officer said, batting her eyelashes and affecting a Southern accent.

"Are you willing to share?" The ensign grinned slowly and extended his dessert as a gesture of good will.

"I sure am. I don't know how well strawberries and peaches will go together but...Oh damn." Uhura swore softly, pausing in her search through their provisions. " No spoons."

Chekov shrugged and sank down on one elbow. He then demonstrated his nonchalance over the lack of cutlery by digging into his Strawberries Romanoff with his fingers.

Uhura's mouth began to water as she watched him slowly and thoroughly suck the strawberries and sour cream from his long fingers. He licked his full lips, eyes closed in sheer ecstasy.

One brown eye opened just a bit. "If you don't eat that soon you are going to be drinking it."

"Oh!" Uhura said with a little start. "Well when in Moscow..." She dug her fingers into the creamy whiteness, relishing the coolness against her skin.

The lieutenant laughed and made small sounds of delight around a mouthful of mocha colored fingers and smooth, sweet peaches and cream.

Chekov cleared his throat and shifted restlessly before turning over onto his stomach. He concentrated more intensely on his own dessert. The sweet/sour taste helped to distract him somewhat from the growing hardness he felt pressing into the warm sand as the communications officer's moans escalated in both volume and intensity.

"Hey, greedy. I thought you said we would share?" She said, grabbing his wrist before his hand could reach his lips.

He opened his mouth to protest but the sound died in his throat as she wrapped Her warm, sticky-sweet lips around his fingers and began to suck.

Uhura smiled mischievously at the shudder that ran through the young Russian as her tongue slithered between his strawberry flavored digits.

"Mmnn.." She moaned, giving the tip of his index finger one last dainty lick. " Your turn."

Uhura pushed Chekov onto his back while at the same time digging two fingers into the rapidly melting mound of ice cream. Her brown eyes asked a question as her hand hovered above him, raising and lowering- teasing him.

His brown eyes answered as he raised his head, lips slightly parted.

The orange and white glob slipped suddenly from Uhura's fingers and landed squarely on the side of the ensign's neck, just below his right ear...

"How was the ice cream, Lieutenant?" Dr. McCoy called out as he spotted

Uhura in the corridor, headed for the turbolift.

"Delicious." Uhura purred as the lift doors opened to reveal Ensign Chekov, leaning casually against the back wall.

"Absolutely delicious."

The End