Starfleet Galas are a Bitch
Title: Starfleet Galas are a Bitch
Author: lieutenant_nona
Pairings/Character(s): Scotty/Chekov
Rating: R(provocative imagery.)
Word count: 481
Prompt: Pasha and strawberries.
Notes: Un-beta'd,
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Starfleet galas were all the same, schmoozing, ass kissing, politics, higher ups throwing their weight around, desk jockeys acting like they know more about engineer when they’ve never even stepped foot on a star ship in their lives, and incredibly boring.
Scotty heaved a long suffering sigh as he nodded along to some old admiral’s big fish stories. The sounds of glasses clinking drew both of their attention to the large tables as the Fleet Admiral stood at the head of the table and called everyone to take their seats.
With an apologetic smile, Scotty left the admiral’s side, winding through the throng of people, studiously keeping out of Admiral Archer’s sights; the man still had a vendetta against him. He weaved through his fellow officers to his designated seat and slid as surreptitiously into his seat as possible.
He heaved a sigh of relief as he realized that Archer couldn’t see him from his seat and settled more comfortably now that he didn’t have to be on edge. He looked up to who was sitting across from him and smiled at Chekov as the young ensign slipped into his chair and smiled back at him.
Conversation from all across the table drifted through the air, everyone eating the delicacies from all across the galaxy. Scotty had found himself a new sandwich from Andor and was contentedly eating it without a care in the world.
Until he felt a slender foot rub up against his shin. His leg jerked under the table, his knee hitting the underside of it. His eyes flicked to the young Russian across from him, his eyes widening. A devious smile decorated Chekov’s face. Shite, tha’s never a good sign.
He glanced at the people around them, all of whom weren’t paying t slightest bit of attention to them thankfully. As his gazed landed back on the navigator he drew in a sharp breath.
Chekov had a plate full of strawberries and whipped cream. Double shite.
Scotty watched, mesmerized as Chekov dipped one of the strawberries into the whipped cream and brought it to his lips, licking at the tip before drawing it into his mouth to suck off the cream. He sucked at the fruit for a second more, before his tongue could be seen peeking out of his lips to catch any of the remaining whipping that was around his fingers.
He pulled it out of his mouth and licked his lips and the tip of the strawberry before finally taking a large bite out of it, and tossing the green top onto his plate. Carefully, he licked his fingers to clean them of the juice from the sweet fruit.
Chekov met Scotty’s eyes as he licked his reddened lips and picked up another strawberry. The Scotsman hid a groan behind his tumbler of scotch and thought, This is going to be a long night.
Author: lieutenant_nona
Pairings/Character(s): Scotty/Chekov
Rating: R(provocative imagery.)
Word count: 481
Prompt: Pasha and strawberries.
Notes: Un-beta'd,
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Starfleet galas were all the same, schmoozing, ass kissing, politics, higher ups throwing their weight around, desk jockeys acting like they know more about engineer when they’ve never even stepped foot on a star ship in their lives, and incredibly boring.
Scotty heaved a long suffering sigh as he nodded along to some old admiral’s big fish stories. The sounds of glasses clinking drew both of their attention to the large tables as the Fleet Admiral stood at the head of the table and called everyone to take their seats.
With an apologetic smile, Scotty left the admiral’s side, winding through the throng of people, studiously keeping out of Admiral Archer’s sights; the man still had a vendetta against him. He weaved through his fellow officers to his designated seat and slid as surreptitiously into his seat as possible.
He heaved a sigh of relief as he realized that Archer couldn’t see him from his seat and settled more comfortably now that he didn’t have to be on edge. He looked up to who was sitting across from him and smiled at Chekov as the young ensign slipped into his chair and smiled back at him.
Conversation from all across the table drifted through the air, everyone eating the delicacies from all across the galaxy. Scotty had found himself a new sandwich from Andor and was contentedly eating it without a care in the world.
Until he felt a slender foot rub up against his shin. His leg jerked under the table, his knee hitting the underside of it. His eyes flicked to the young Russian across from him, his eyes widening. A devious smile decorated Chekov’s face. Shite, tha’s never a good sign.
He glanced at the people around them, all of whom weren’t paying t slightest bit of attention to them thankfully. As his gazed landed back on the navigator he drew in a sharp breath.
Chekov had a plate full of strawberries and whipped cream. Double shite.
Scotty watched, mesmerized as Chekov dipped one of the strawberries into the whipped cream and brought it to his lips, licking at the tip before drawing it into his mouth to suck off the cream. He sucked at the fruit for a second more, before his tongue could be seen peeking out of his lips to catch any of the remaining whipping that was around his fingers.
He pulled it out of his mouth and licked his lips and the tip of the strawberry before finally taking a large bite out of it, and tossing the green top onto his plate. Carefully, he licked his fingers to clean them of the juice from the sweet fruit.
Chekov met Scotty’s eyes as he licked his reddened lips and picked up another strawberry. The Scotsman hid a groan behind his tumbler of scotch and thought, This is going to be a long night.