Note: I debated last time - post one long chapter or two short ones? So I went with short chapters. Please note that this fic starts with their second date, so we're going to be getting back into 'adult' territory very quickly. As with chapter two, don't read unless you're ok with explicit stuff.

Chapter Four

The two men had decided to meet at Paul's place before dinner. Paul had a roommate, but the roommate was away on leave for the next several days. Paul worked quickly to tidy the place up before Hugh's arrival. His work – on various screens and devices – was scattered about the place as were sundry items of clothing and toiletries. Paul didn't have much else; unlike Hugh he didn't have an affinity for artwork or candles. But he had stopped to pick up a candle on his way home.

Paul instructed the computer to being playing the "Hugh" playlist. The two men had messaged back and forth regarding the music that Hugh wanted on, and Paul had then looked up songs and types of music that were considered similar to Hugh's favorites to help round out the playlist.

No sooner had clean sheets been placed on the bed and Paul had taken a comb through his hair than the doorbell sounded.

It was Hugh, with flowers. Paul was so glad he had something to give to Hugh – the candle. Both gifts were received happily, and Hugh appreciated the playlist. He especially loved the fact that Paul had taken the initiative to locate some songs he thought he might like. And then they were in each other's arms, kissing. Paul remembered to gently tilt Hugh's head back and kiss his neck, as the doctor liked.

"Er, all these clothes, they just get in the way," Paul grumbled after a while.

"Maybe from now on, we should just strip the moment we're alone," Hugh suggested, devilish grin on his face.

"I can't tell if you're serious or not, but I'm fully in support of this idea."

And then they were on top of Paul's bed, naked, kissing, stroking each other's bodies. They had agreed that Paul would top this time, though Paul insisted that Hugh (again) choose the position they would take. Hugh remembered Paul having made a few comments about how delectable he found the view of Hugh's backside, so when it was time, he lay face down on Paul's bed and thrust a pillow under his hips.

"This is pretty much the best sight I've ever seen," Paul murmured, as he lubed up Hugh's entrance and his own cock, which had been erect almost since the moment they'd begun kissing.

"Had a feeling you'd like this," Hugh chuckled. He then took a more somber tone, "Um, I know you will but just make sure you go nice and slow. I used to go with a guy who was a total bottom so I'm out of practice doing this." He had to admit that this was – quite literally – a very vulnerable position.

"You can trust me," Paul said gently, running his tongue along Hugh's back. "I – uh – I never would hurt you."

Paul did as he promised. Many delicious moments later, both men were enjoying the slow movement of Paul's hips. Paul placed an array of kisses on the back of Hugh's neck, head, and shoulders.

Hugh thought about how nice this was. Given his last boyfriend had been exclusively a bottom, Hugh got tired of topping all the time. He didn't want to deny himself the experience of being the one to provide the pleasure, of literally accommodating his partner, of being filled completely, of feeling one's lover move in and out and get closer and closer to orgasm.

"So good," Paul whispered, his body covering Hugh's. "This feels so good."

"Mmmmmm, for me too," Hugh murmured. "You can go faster now you know."

Paul slowly began to thrust faster. Every nerve ending in his body screamed pleasure as he galloped towards his climax. He looked down at his lover and was tantalized by the site of his own hardness moving in and out of Hugh's luscious bottom.

Hugh moaned and groaned so loudly that it egged Paul on to move faster. As Paul got closer and closer to coming, at one point he reached his hand out and playfully smacked Hugh's rear end. He knew that by the time he was overcome by his orgasm, he was babbling incoherently and dripping with sweat.

Afterwards, Paul gently pulled out and Hugh turned over onto his back. Paul used his hands to bring his lover to an equally ecstatic ending.

Hours later, they remained in bed together, touching each other, talking, laughing. Dinner had long since been forgotten.

"Hey, um there's something I need to say," Hugh began at one point.

Paul's heart plummeted – he could tell from the serious look on Hugh's face and the awkward way that he began the sentence that Hugh was about to bring up something that he didn't really want to discuss. Even the tone of his voice was markedly different than the pleasant bedroom banter they had been sharing.

"What is it?" Paul asked, shifting his position a bit so he could look Hugh directly in the eyes.

"I loved everything about what we just did. You are amazing. Just not the smack on the rear. Everything else was great, but no slapping next time, okay?"

Paul's face flushed, this time not from passion but mortification. "I'm so sorry, Hugh!" he exclaimed. He touched his hands to his forehead, almost wishing he could cover his whole face. "My – this guy I dated at the academy, he liked for me to do that when he was bottoming. I'm so sorry!"

Hugh softly shushed Paul. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "There's no need for you to apologize."

"Did I hurt you?" Paul asked. His heart still raced and he even felt the beginnings of perspiration on his forehead.

"No, not at all. It's just that it's not my thing, that's all. You're an amazing lover, so don't feel bad about this, okay? And I figure – well, I hope – that we'll be in each other's beds many more times, so I thought I might as well say it now."

Paul nodded. Hugh was going out of his way to reassure him – and Paul knew that the topic might've been difficult for Hugh to bring up in the first place. "I'm glad you told me," Paul said, his eyes downcast. He then turned them back to Hugh's kind eyes. "I'm glad we can talk about this stuff."

"Me too!" Hugh said. He was back to all smiles, and he even let out a relieved exhale. "You're really easy to talk to and you're a good listener."

"Thanks," Paul said, returning Hugh's smile. Hugh pulled him into yet another kiss. They slowly savored this one.

"Can I teach you to dance sometime?" Hugh asked, moments later. The subject of dance had come up yesterday, with Hugh having remarked that he liked to dance.

"To dance? Oh crap, no." Paul had admitted earlier that he had never danced much and didn't particularly care to try.

"C'mon, Paul. It's fun. And I really like to go out dancing." One of Hugh's thumbs leisurely stroked the side of Paul's face.

"I'll look like an idiot. Scientists really shouldn't try dancing." He tilted his head, "And, in fact, maybe neither should doctors. Do people call you 'the dancing doctor'?"

"Some do, now that you mention it. Please. Let me teach you. In private first, that way no one else will see."

Paul took a breath. This meant a lot to Hugh, he could clearly tell as if Hugh's pleading tone wasn't compelling enough. And those imploring eyes of Hugh's just melted his heart.

"Okay," Paul finally said. "On the condition that we don't dance in public until I say I'm ready."

"Thank you, Paul!" Hugh exclaimed happily. "I cannot wait to dance with you."

Paul shook his head. "I'd better shut you up with a kiss before you try to get me to try opera singing next."

Hugh relaxed into the kiss. And silently he really liked the idea of Paul learning to sing as well. Later on – after he mastered dancing.


After a few days, it became apparent to Nurse Marcus Deming that he would simply need to bide his time. There was no reasoning with a man in Hugh's condition. He practically skipped into work each day and constantly looked like wanted to break out into song and dance. Never one to hide his heart, Hugh had shared with all who asked - so all of his coworkers and half of his regular patients knew he had a boyfriend. Most had eagerly looked at Paul's pictures on Hugh's device. They made comments such as: "So handsome!"; "A scientist, that's a good match for a doctor."; "But can he dance as well as you?"

Deming knew he had to wait until Hugh's glow dimmed, until the giddiness of first love began to abate. (He had heard Hugh candidly share with another nurse that although he'd had boyfriends before, Paul " is my first real serious relationship.") So he continued his research on Paul Stamets, though he did not uncover much of anything different than the results of his initial findings.

He didn't like having to wait it out, but realized he had little choice.


Time passed. Paul became an excellent dancer under Hugh's tutelage and he grew to enjoy taking a spin on the dance floor with Hugh. The two men spent most of their free time together. Because Hugh had his own room and Paul didn't, Paul spent pretty much every night in Hugh's quarters and had more clothing and toiletries there than inside his own room.

They had been together for just over six months when the inevitable happened. Paul's work had been noticed. Even his superiors and those team members who didn't care for his personality had to admit that he was one of the most brilliant officers they had ever worked with, and that his research could be a game changer for Starfleet. He was offered a prominent position on a large starship.

Starfleet operated in a manner in which they made every effort to keep committed couples together, although they were always clear that they could make no guarantees and that at times, the career of one member of the couple might suffer in order to keep them stationed together. Sickbay on the ship in which Paul had been assigned did not need another doctor, but they would gladly accept Dr. Culber. Starfleet certainly didn't enjoy redundancy, but they were so efficient in so many areas that one extra doctor on a starship – one who needed to be with his partner – would be permitted.

The two men did not need to angst over the decision or spend much time discussing it. During the past six months, they had never discussed the degree of seriousness of their relationship (both understood that it was serious) or whether or not they should stop seeing other people (a moot point anyway, but if either had been seeing other men, it would have ceased immediately).

"I joined Starfleet because I wanted to heal people – and because I wanted to be part of a ship's crew someday," Hugh said, after they read Starfleet's offer. "How exciting that we'll be on a starship!"

"And who cares what they say about the ship not 'needing' another doctor?" Paul said, shaking his head. "A week or two with you, and they'll wonder what they ever did before they met you." He paused and stroked the side of Hugh's face. "I certainly wonder that."

They accepted the transfer, paperwork was put through, and they would officially transfer to the ship when it docked at Alpha Centauri in 12 days.

The med lab where Hugh worked held a going away party for him. He was beloved by his coworkers and patients, and the party was very well-attended. He received many unique and handmade gifts.

Paul watched the gift giving and resolved to be more patient and agreeable with his new team. During Hugh's farewell party, Paul received a few good-natured barbs about "stealing our doctor away", but he kept his desire for sarcastic replies in check, determined to ensure he didn't make his partner look bad in front of all these people.

On Hugh's last day of work – the day after the party - Nurse Marcus Deming approached him during his morning break. Hugh saw Deming head towards him and inexplicably thought back to that morning over six months ago, the day after he had met Paul at Café Trieste. He now remembered that he had taken his morning break with Deming, remembered how he had been so excited that he couldn't touch his snack, and how thrilling it had been to share the excitement with someone else. But since that time, Deming had been distant.

"I'll miss you," Deming said, sitting down next to Hugh.

It was an abrupt way to start the conversation, but it sounded sincere. "I'll miss you too. We should have taken more breaks together," Hugh added, a slight tinge of puzzlement in his voice. The past six months had been full of so much love, so much joy, and so many new experiences, Hugh realized that he really hadn't thought much about Deming during that time.

Deming figured it was now or never, and he might as well say something. What did he have to lose? He knew that he might never see Hugh again, other than on a screen. "You know, I gotta tell you something," Deming began with a sheepish smile. "I always liked you. I wished you were my partner, and I got jealous when you started seeing Stamets. I'm kicking myself for never having asked you out before."

Hugh's eyes grew wide and he set his cup of coffee down. "Wow!" he said. "I really had no idea."

So good at diagnosing and treating mysterious illnesses, but not an expert at seeing what was right in front of him. This blind spot would later cause trouble for Hugh.

"Sorry, I realize this is awkward," Deming admitted. "But I just wanted you to know before you shipped out. That Paul Stamets is a lucky man."

A look in Demings' eyes – a hard look that first suggested hunger and then maybe something more concerning - reminded Hugh of an interaction they'd had. When he thought back through the whirlwind of first love, he remembered that after his second date with Paul, Deming had seemed unsettled and had quizzed Hugh about Paul's flaws. Now it all came together. In any case, Hugh had never had an interest in Deming. It was all for the better that Deming had never asked him out, because Hugh wouldn't really have wanted to go, although neither did he like to let anyone down.

"Thank you," Hugh said. The surprise faded from his voice, and his posture took on a slight stiffness. "But I really think that I am the lucky one. Paul is wonderful." He paused, and felt his heart thaw a bit. "And I hope you meet someone. You have a lot to offer."

Deming nodded. "Thank you. I've been trying to get out there more, socialize more and not just with my same few friends. And hang out at Café Trieste."

"All good ideas. I hope the café will be as magical for you as it was for me."

Wisely, Deming had never shared with Hugh the results of his aborted smear-campaign against Stamets. That would have been going too far. Perhaps Deming really had learned a lesson or two.

Hours later, Paul and Hugh paid one final visit to Café Trieste. When some classical music came on – a song which had been one of their favorites for dance practice – Hugh insisted that they take the dance floor.

Paul gladly did so, and as they usually did when dancing, Paul took the lead. Hugh loved the way it felt to hold onto him, to be in his very capable arms as he followed Paul's steps

Hugh tilted his head upwards for a second. "I think this is one of my proudest achievements."

Paul knew exactly what he meant. "Teaching me to dance," he stated flatly. "Not the 525,600 people you've helped heal?!"

"Well, that's good too."

Hugh made a slight stumble on one of the steps.

"Are you nervous about shipping out?" Paul asked. "We'll be so far from earth, far from your parents."

"I didn't join Starfleet because I wanted to stay in one place my whole life," Hugh smiled, having recovered his footing quickly. "Besides, as long as we're together, I think we can accomplish anything."

"I agree. I love you so much, Hugh."

"I love you too."

His mind on the future, Paul was excited about the new assignment. He also had been pondering asking Hugh to marry him. It was still far too early by his calculations, but it would happen someday. Perhaps next time their ship swung by Alpha Centauri, the two could take some shore leave and visit Café Trieste. Yes, this would be the perfect spot for the proposal.

THE END

So this is the end for now. However I have been known to continue fics if there's enough demand, or even to write special requests. So don't hesitate to reach out to me or just leave a comment.