Smile.

His was brilliant, alluring, playful, seductive, and Chekov could not help but stare dumbly. When he laughed, his lovely lips curled upward to reveal pearly teeth. Late at night, when he smiled coyly and there was only Chekov to see it, the Russian felt he could surely melt against him.

Sulu was the only person Chekov knew who was absolutely stunning even when crying. The younger boy woke up in sick bay, his shoulder heavily bandaged, and there was Sulu, holding his hand, tears flowing steadily down his face, staining his smooth lips turned down at the corners. Chekov wanted nothing in that moment but to gently kiss away his tears, ensuring that nothing would touch Sulu's beautiful mouth except him.

Tired of video games, Chekov always ended up lying on Sulu, staring down at him with shy, loving eyes.

"You know, Hikaru," he whispered, "you really have ze most beautiful lips."

He brought his fingers up to trace their full, perfect curves, but found he could only appreciate them this way for a second before capturing them with his own.

Chekov adored the way they fit together as though hand-crafted just for his touch.

For his love only.