Hungry
by Calico



Nov.98

Disclaimer: If I smiled sweetly and promised honestly that Paramount had given me my favourite duo, instead of owning all the rights etc., would you believe me? Thought not. <sigh> I must learn to be more convincing.


Paris looked at the Commander, feeling shakily uncomfortable yet strangely daring. The dark man was eyeing him angrily, glinting pupils flashing a warning. With his broad back against the wall, yet Paris felt he was at the disadvantage. Chakotay looked formidable, and furious.

His last words, snarled, hung in the air. Exactly how far will you push me, Lieutenant?

And now Paris had two options. No. Don't be ridiculous. He had one option. He plastered his best cocky smile over momentarily reluctant lips, and lifted his jaw. Once again thanking the God that had paused Chakotay's growth before his own, Paris looked insultingly down into defiant eyes.

"Ohh, I think I'll leave it up, uh, to you to work that one out, Commander."

Well. Huh. That wasn't exactly what he had planned on saying. For one thing, it didn't let him off the hook. For another, it didn't effortlessly change the subject, leaving Chakotay confused and vulnerable. For another, he'd planned on enunciating the "Commander" in an arrogant drawl, and it had failed. For another, he hadn't planned on losing the flow half way through. For another, he couldn't actually think any more because he was looking at a definitely not confused or vulnerable Chakotay and his eyes were somewhat distracting. Fuck it. His whole body was somewhat distracting.

Huh. Oh fuck. Yeah. That little heterosexuality thing Paris was so fond of. Oh well, maybe he'd just been a little late "developing" that aspect of his personality. Maybe it was the current company.

"What do you mean by that, Paris?"

Huh, fuck, yeah. His little heterosexuality thing. Known fondly as the Captain.

Paris guessed it would be too much to hope Chakotay'd also been a little late developing certain preferences.

So, probably time to back off, let Chakotay think he'd won, for once. He'd never live it down. Really never live it down. Really really never --

Paris stopped the repetitive train of thought, forcing himself to think without certain parts of his body. His body was just finding reasons not to move, because it wanted him to stay just here, looking down into fierce eyes and maybe step forwards to find a nice hard body to rub up against. Whereas his mind reluctantly realised the chances of not getting thrown in the brig after such an action were pretty much slim to none.

If only they weren't alone. It would be such a good argument against his lower regions, if they weren't in Sandrine's, with the patrons deleted and the lights dim.

Tom had just waved goodbye to B'Elanna, his evening company, and current interest, who was proving about as easy to charm as...Chakotay might be. He had just settled down to polishing the shot he'd been beaten with, courtesy of the Captain, the night before. Harry wasn't around, stuck up with some reports or anomaly or something. Tom had asked when his friend was going to be free of the time-eater, and had received the absent answer of "uh, later." So Tom had found B'Elanna, somewhat tentatively, until she too had retired back to her late-night warp core calculations. It had been fine - she didn't bite. Like he'd be so lucky...

And suddenly the Commander had come in, and despite being off duty Tom had automatically become "Paris" again. Lieutenant Paris.

"I said, what do you mean by that?"

Ohh, so he's not the calmly mystic Indian all the way through, then?

Paris restrained a gloat that the composure of the dark man was a little ragged. All because he was just keeping quiet, for once. He should try it more often. He had the "upper hand" now; the lack of smart ass comments seemed to be disconcerting Chakotay.

But he was painfully aware of being hard. Which diminished the triumph, somewhat.

"Paris!"

"Yeah?" He decided he'd better answer. Then he realised he already had. The lack of blood in his brain was slowing his reactions, he guessed.

He was so glad it was dark. Not quite so inconspicuous. But still, he had a feeling he'd overbalance if he tried to walk like this. Centre of gravity had shifted. He almost grinned in spite of himself.

"What's so funny?" Chakotay snapped. Evidently he had grinned, in spite of himself.

"Nothing." No, it was all deadly serious.

"Are you drunk?"

Now there was an easy way out of all this. Just claim to be "under the influence" and then claim not to remember any of it in the morning.

"No Commander, I've only had synthonal." What?! Unless he was very much mistaken, he had just gotten rid of his easy way out.

"Then what is up with you?" The choice of words, Paris decided, was very unfortunate. He smirked.

Chakotay had evidently had enough. His eyes flared, and he shoved Paris aside before stalking past him to the bar. Paris gaped. Never mind what was "up" with him, what the hell was up with Chakotay?

"Commander?" He winced at his voice, which actually had an element of concern lurking in it. Chakotay glanced up too. The anger was gone. In its place was resignation.

"Commander?" Oops. This time he'd overcompensated. The question was loaded with contemptuous flippancy. Chakotay glared at him, anger instantly rekindled.

"Paris, I came down here to relax. To see who was down here, and maybe chat with them. Just for a little while. Before I go back on duty. And when I saw you, I have to admit my heart sank. Because you are terminally hostile, at least to me, and nothing I say will change that. Not that I've tried that often, of course," he admitted, with a slightly rueful quirk of his lips, "but even if I did try you'd probably just throw it back in my face."

He leaned back against the bar, casual pose countered by the resentful stare, "and oh look. I tried, and you just did."

Tom blinked. He felt sorry. He also felt defenceless. And angry, that Chakotay had managed to pierce that many shields with one sorrowful, sarcastic speech.

He wheeled round, and stalked out of the holodeck. Never mind that the man was hot, Paris didn't trust himself with that enigmatic... man. He told himself automatically he hadn't just avoided thinking "bronze god", then conceded with a snort that he had. Sure. Fine. He was "in lust" with the First Officer. Who hated him. Or maybe didn't, if that speech had been honest rather than scathing. Although it had certainly sounded scathing.

Confused, and more than slightly aware of a, uh, "balance problem", he scurried back to his room.

*****

Paris looked at his hand, slightly shocked by how little fantasising it had taken to get off. He must have been very ready. And he'd screamed, too, which was pretty unusual for him, and now he felt better. At least some things never change.

Licking quickly over his sticky palm, enjoying the strong taste of a habit of a lifetime, he carefully folded the strategically-placed towel in on itself, then dumped it in the recycler. He used a second cloth to remove all traces of activity from his body, then slung that down the chute as well and glanced round the room. Messy, but it was an ordered mess. He knew where everything was. Harry might not approve. Chakotay would definitely not approve.

Tom made a face. Chakotay wasn't exactly in his room very often. He'd have to see it to be able to disapprove.

He placed the tube at the back of his bathroom shelf. No use advertising such things.

The door chimed. Checking the mess again with wild eyes, he quickly slipped on a discarded pair of jeans and a dark shirt, and absently smoothed himself down. Whilst it was probably Harry, there was always the possibility of Jenny Delaney, who wouldn't appreciate him jerking off. At least, not while she wasn't there.

But when the door slid aside, the lascivious smile that thought had inspired was whipped from his lips. Though Paris didn't notice, as his eyes were fixed on Chakotay.

He remembered enough to look insulting, and raised his eyebrows. "Unfinished business, Commander?"

Uninvited, Chakotay stepped into the room. He glanced around, a slightly imperious expression in his eyes, before coming back to Paris, gaze even and grave.

"I'll go if you want me to, but I think "unfinished" is the word. There's a lot of antagonism, between us two, and it may be time to sort it out." His voice was cool, composed. Infuriating. Sexy, yes, but just so calm. Paris found himself imagining the other side of that voice, husky with desire, whispering savage, fervent promises to him before calling on that delectable body to carry them out.

"Paris? May I come in?"

"Looks like you already have, sir, or is that my eyes playing tricks on me?" He looked pointedly at Chakotay's feet, one step inside the boundaries of his room, then swept his gaze back up to the Commander's face. He admitted to himself the jibe was just an excuse to linger a moment on those firm legs.

"Ok Paris, never mind. I can see this was a pointless gesture on my part, I'll go. Forget this." Irrational panic swept through him.

"Oh no Commander, I think you're completely right. We have a lot of important things to talk through, like good little crew-mates, and now is as good a time as any, so let's play at therapists. Or maybe you prefer the title "a practitioner of psychoanalysis" -- " he replied scathingly, knowing he only had to get two things from the situation: his pride intact, and Chakotay in his room. And if that involved, uh, the "roundabout" route, so be it.

"Paris -- "

"Oh no, Tom, please. We're informal now, sir," he interrupted, a saccharine smile painted against his lips.

"P -- T -- "

"Aren't you going to return the favour, sir? You seem to be at an advantage of me." Unintentionally imagining other ways the big man could be at an "advantage" of him, Tom swallowed. He hoped it was surreptitious. Chakotay seemed to reach a conclusion. He squared his shoulders. Tom watched appreciatively. He hoped it was surreptitious.

"Tom," he said firmly, "ok. Please call me Chakotay, now we're off duty. And please could we talk through some of this hostility, because," he lapsed into the good old "stick together" speech, "we're going to be spending a considerable length of time aboard this ship, and I don't want to jeopardise... anything because we're at odds. Will you be sensible, with me?"

He'd be all sorts of things, with him -- Cutting off the thought, and the pictures, Tom gestured facetiously for Chakotay to take a seat.

Chakotay just looked at him, eyes serious. "I'm serious, Tom." He looked serious. Very serious. Too serious. Although, also, temptingly serious.

"As am I, sir. I mean," he smiled provocatively, "that is, Chakotay."

Once again he beckoned the dark man closer, this time retreating into the room himself - so if the conversation was to continue, Chakotay would have to either follow him, or shout.

Evidently realising this was the closest he was going to get to a proper answer, Chakotay checked whatever he was going to say with that pretty mouth of his, and stepped forwards. Pretty?! Oh dear. Tom felt rather sheepish. Pretty. Huh.

Then he watched, surprised, as Chakotay's eyes opened wider and his eyebrows rose slightly, shocked. Instantly the mask of calm was back, but he continued glancing furtively around, refusing to meet Tom's confused gaze.

Which cleared, as he suddenly realised what had happened. He hadn't used an air-fresher. He hadn't showered. He had jerked off, only minutes before this "guest", and the place reeked of sex. He'd got used to it, but evidently Chakotay...

"Something wrong, Commander?" he drawled, covering his embarrassment as he quickly assessed the situation. Unless the mystic warrior was completely inhuman in his physical needs, he'd know that smell. Gods, everybody knew that smell, it was one of those familiar -- not that everybody knew Tom's particular -- just that as a fundamental issue... He cut himself off.

But basically, his modesty was shot to hell. So instead -- well. It was a stupid idea, but if -- yeah. If he had any sort of fragment of a chance with the man in front of him, then now would be the time to find out. And if not - well, not too much face lost. He hoped. And it was so much fun watching him squirm.

"Uh, no, no, nothing, Par -- Tom."

"My quarters not quite as neat as yours, perhaps?" he smirked.

"No, not that, just -- nothing." Okay, so a perfect time to drop the subject. But Tom didn't want to. He was not going to let him relax, not when he was having so much fun watching the possibilities of "where" race through his CO's head.

Though, despite where Chakotay's eyes were suspiciously sliding, even Paris would draw the line at spilling on the Padd-strewn table.

"Oh come on Chakotay, no secrets between friends..." he said, slightly enunciating the "come" but covering with the "friends".

"I said nothing was wrong." The calm was back. Tom wondered how deep the facade was.

"Okay," he said, with a little shrug, "in that case, do have a seat." He gestured at the couch, noting with glee the range of expressions flitting through Chakotay's eyes. Not his face, of course, he was far too controlled. Just eyes. But with eyes that expressive...

Shock, a slight flicker of disgust, fading quickly into wariness, suspicion, slight humour, before -- wait a minute. Was that lust he saw, momentarily darkening the eyes, before they blended into resigned acceptance. Tom knew why. The Commander had no idea if Paris'd just been getting himself off on that couch, and only the specific question was going to get an answer. Only the exact words. Tom was having too much fun to wink away an explanation.

His mind dropped the subject, skimming back to the slight warming of the gaze before it closed over, back into polite compliance. He could swear he'd seen something - a glimmer of interest, of intrigue - but he could no more comment on it than Chakotay could ask if the couch he was about to sit on had just had a new coat of, uh, polish.

Still, a hope was a hope and Paris clung to it.

Chakotay walked, rather abruptly, Tom noticed privately, over to the couch and sat down. He didn't lean back, nor shuffle to get comfortable. In fact he was so taut, Tom suspected he could beam the seat from under him and the Commander would keep the same right-angled position until he noticed, and crumpled to the floor.

Tom was slightly shocked by the ease with which his mind inserted his own body into the picture, having the other man land gracelessly on top of him before pinning him down with -- Huh. For something with no prior experience, his brain was doing a pretty good job of improvising a sequence of man on man... He felt thankful he'd just jerked off. Otherwise, he might have come simply from the thought -- though no-hands wasn't exactly his style, either. Chakotay had nice hands.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, as the heavy silence interrupted yet another daydream. Mentally, he was kicked, as he realised the definite lack of hostility in the voice. Role-slipping was not really on his agenda.

"Uh, yes please. Thanks."

"Any preferences?" Damn. Another lack of scorn. Thankfully, Chakotay didn't seem to have noticed. He was too busy trying not to touch the couch with any inch of bare skin.

"No, just, uh, whatever you're having."

Ignoring the irrational sequence which hurtled through his head as Chakotay mentioned "having" things -- honestly, there is absolutely no connection with anyone throwing anyone to the ground and fucking them senseless, he told his mind firmly, so stop trying to pretend there is -- Tom hurried to the replicator.

He chose some coffee. He felt he needed to stay alert. For no particular reason -- automatically -- he checked his balance. And noticed he had spare rations. He could use them. He could use them.

Quickly thinking back, he realised the recipe code was still clear in his memory. He'd decided it wasn't a good idea to dose B'Elanna with an aphrodisiac. She'd probably feed him to those ensigns she'd starved as a punishment for risking her warp-core. Or dice him. Or else she'd be allergic, and the doctor would have been really interested in adding to his studies. And he didn't know how much to dose a half-Klingon.

But he did know how much to give a human. He'd taken a little himself, once, when he was fooling around with Jenny and wanted a bit more stamina for her games. It wasn't too powerful. Not even very noticeable. It just put your partner in a very... interesting light, as he'd discovered when Sue and Megan had walked in on them. And it had definitely given him stamina - no way could he have managed that on his own...

The idea was stuck in his head now. A grin was creeping across his face, overpowering the slight frown of conscience. He just couldn't resist.

Even if the Commander hated him after, he would've -- they both would've just had one hell of a lay. And hey, once he'd got this bizarre fantasy out of the way, he could stop wondering and go back to their good old hate-hate relationship. Get back to jeopardising the mission, or whatever. And he could always say it only emphasised your own true feelings, if Chakotay called him on it.

He quickly dialled up the tiny clear crystals, stirring a spoonful into each cup. It wouldn't hurt to give himself a bit of a boost, now, would it? He didn't want the Commander getting the better of him... Or rather, he wanted to match him, job for job. He wouldn't mind having the better got of him, once or twice, as long as he got to retaliate in kind...

Turning, he caught an enigmatic expression just leaving Chakotay's profile, before the seated man turned his head to look at him.

"Coffee?"

"Thankyou." Tom had just taken a sip of his own when he passed the other cup, and was pleased to feel a tingle when their fingers touched around the numbingly-hot drink. The stuff worked fast.

Taking his seat opposite, he regarded the other man evenly.

"So, Chakotay, what did you want to share with me?" he asked pleasantly. Pleasant, if you didn't count that sarcasm thing that dripped lovingly from his words.

Chakotay took a sip of his drink before answering. He leaned forwards slightly, looking earnest and collected, holding the cup in one elegant, blunt-fingered hand. Tom wondered when his mind had got so fond of contradictions.

"I think -- I think this antagonism between us has gone on long enough, Tom, I think we're continuing without proper ground. Old grudges are boring, and it's a little hypocritical of me to be counselling one person to forgive and forget, while I continue to brood over an ancient hostility. Don't you agree?" he pressed, maddeningly solemn.

The answer "yes, you are quite hypocritical, aren't you, sir," danced briefly on Tom's lips, before he realised that coffee or no coffee, he wasn't going to get Chakotay where those words were unless he stayed nice. Getting the man irate wasn't the plan.

"I haven't a problem with you." Unless you count these clothes, which are disturbingly present and correct.

"I'm sorry, Tom, but that's just not true."

"And how would you know that, Commander?" He adjusted without thinking back to formality, irritation flaring.

"Paris, it's obvious. We have a problem. But first, you need to admit it." He'd reverted back to formal addresses too, then.

Lust aside, Paris could feel something else churning in his stomach. The man had a gorgeous body. But he was so pompous, so incredibly patronising! How could he think he knew Tom better than Tom knew himself? How could he "presume" to be able to explain away a history of tension, with just a brief chat in Tom's quarters?

"Fine, sir, I admit it." he returned flatly, setting down his cup decisively. He badly wanted to drink some more coffee, but he could practically smell the tasteless, invisible crystals that had been dissolved without a trace into its black depths. He felt that being overrun with lust wasn't the best way win this argument.

Chakotay, however, had no such concern. He sighed heavily, before raising his cup to his lips -- so sculptured, Paris thought wildly before he could stop himself -- and drinking down about half the doctored caffeine.

Despite himself, Tom felt anticipation flare as he imagined what the incessantly composed man would be feeling soon, as the mild drug fed its way through his system.

Chakotay's eyes glanced briefly at the cup before he set it down, then leaned back in the couch. Tom stifled a grin as the expression flickered briefly to alarm then back as Chakotay realised he was touching the couch with the back of his neck, his hands, and his cloth-covered back.

Not to forget his cloth-covered backside, Tom thought reverently, wishing he actually had been spilling on the couch. He realised, with a slight twitch of his lips, that he probably would be in future. The tension in the room right now was palpable, and had just the edge that great wet-dreams were made of.

"Oh Tom, please, at least give me a chance without laughing," Chakotay asked tiredly.

"What?"

"The grin. The smug, knowing grin you always flash when you're sharing a joke with yourself, at the other person's expense. But give me a little respect, maybe? Just hear me out?" he finished, his voice heavy. Tom stared. He'd never heard the man sound so depleted, so weary with the turn of events. He wondered exactly how much Chakotay wanted to sort things out between them, how much he'd been expecting Paris' defence. How much he'd been expecting hostility, when he'd followed the Lieutenant to his quarters.

Paris apologised, with his eyes, before he could help it. He hadn't even realised the thoughts had rambled that far, until he saw Chakotay blink in surprise. Ohh. Hadn't been expecting an apology, now, had he. Neither had Paris, but there was no reason to let on that fact. But, since he'd got the upper hand, he might as well use it... after all, half a cup of, ah, coffee, will have left the man a bit confused. So he allowed some heat to sift into his gaze, tilting his head infinitesimally and flicking his tongue over his lips before winding back the other's last words and replying softly, "Fair enough, Chakotay, I'll here you out."

Watching the expression -- confusion warring with desire warring with gratitude -- swirl around Chakotay's liquid eyes, Tom remembered how much he enjoyed being the composed one, in a seduction.

Seducing people, never seduced, always in control. He skimmed briefly backwards, and realised this was true. He'd always initiated things. Well, some girls had made moves, but he'd generally seen them first, turned on the Paris charm, worked at attracting them. And he'd got what he wanted, if you ignored the troubles with B'Elanna; a quick lay, a brief relationship, even some long-term flings. With a little attention to detail, a little hard work, he'd always managed to keep them wanting him until -- Hard work. He had worked to get them, to keep them.

He had a sudden, irrational desire to be the receiving party. Not of flowers or candy, really, but of showers of attention. Being seduced, enticed, someone tempting him rather than the other way round.

As long as he could stay in control. He liked being the composed one.

"Thankyou." The single word caught Tom's attention, brought him back fast. It wasn't a particularly sexy word. On paper, that is. But when being softly spoken, in Chakotay's slightly husky voice, accompanied by a slight smile on those gorgeous lips, a slight smile in those incredible eyes, then it was sexy. Verrry sexy.

Tom inclined his head in return, telling himself it was a cover for embarrassment rather than actually being civil, then looked again. He tried to call up a smirk, a sarcastic remark, but failed somewhat. It really was a cover when he reached blindly for his cup, needing something to take his mind off drowning in dark eyes set off by dark lashes in a perfect dark face.

He swallowed deeply, ignoring the innuendo his mind insisted on sending, then suddenly remembered why the coffee was so hot. Because there was still a full mug, keeping the heat. Because he hadn't drunk any. Because it wasn't exactly innocent.

And because on top of what he was already feeling, an entire dose of crystals wasn't really a good idea. A couple of little sips, perhaps, but not an entire cup. Not an entire cup like he was downing right now. Right now.

He coughed. He had paused in horror, neatly inhaling the last mouthful of liquid, having just enough time to set the nearly empty mug aside and clamp a hand over his mouth before he started choking.

Damn. Damn Damn, he thought, in between struggling to breathe. And then he stopped cursing, and started congratulating himself instead, because there was a hand thumping him between the shoulder-blades, and it wasn't his. Mmm, contact at last. And his mind, which was really surprising him today with its range of images, came up with a very different picture of him receiving blows, a little lower down. This started a whole new coughing fit, as he wondered where the hell that idea had come from, and guiltily admitted it sounded kind of nice -- if very weird.

"Better?" came an amused voice over his shoulder, when he'd finally regained his breath. He was sitting on the floor, having slithered (somewhat on purpose) off his seat, at about the time he'd been thinking about how firm Chakotay's hands were. And Chakotay was kneeling behind him. Oops, no, now he was standing behind him, he realised, as the hand still resting on his shoulder was removed. Pity, that. Now he felt a bit cold. Time to warm up again, then. Hmm. Chakotay looked warm. Tom marvelled at how potent the drug was -- just two minutes after inhaling the stuff his train of thought was already starting down its determinedly single track, and picking up speed.

Tom turned slowly, peering up cheekily through lowered lashes and catching a glint in return, deciding that if the stuff already had him flying, Chakotay should be ready for some real acrobatics by now.

"My hero. Thankyou for saving me," he said, a sudden irrational cowardice putting a sarcasm over the mostly flirty tone. That way, he wasn't vulnerable -- he could always back off into safe antagonism.

He watched as Chakotay turned abruptly and went back to his seat, absently admiring how good the big man looked from his viewpoint on the floor, how good he'd look naked, with that erection freed from the tight -- ahh. Ahh, yes. Coffee came through.

Of course, he was in a similar condition, it was just that his clothes were more forgiving. And he'd just spilled before Chakotay had come round, too, and so was a little less urgent. Didn't mean he wasn't almost begging, of course, but at least he could still walk.

Though he wondered if, after this evening, he'd always have a balance problem around the first officer. Would make flying pretty difficult.

"You're welcome." Tom blinked at the blunt voice, devoid of the desire he'd seen momentarily in the man's eyes before he'd turned away. Or rather, not completely devoid. Just piled with so much hard formality, plus a little tinge of frustration and a tingle of regret, that lust was rather outweighed.

He looked over, seeing an equally flat expression staring at the wall. Or possible through it, he wasn't sure.

Tom played back the last few moments, wondering what could have reduced the playful gleam in the guy's eyes to a completely blank expression worthy Tuvok himself. It came almost right away -- the voice. The sarcasm, the saucy look completely contrasted by the tone that said, Don't Trust Me. Or actually, he admitted, it said, Hit Me. That's what he would have done, he realised, hearing the words again in his head, if someone else had started pulling mind games. Whoa! Mind games?! That's a bit strong! So is the coffee, he reminded himself harshly. With all the weird feelings swirling round the guy's head, any outside confusion just makes things worse.

For the first time in the evening he admitted that drugging his First Officer wasn't maybe the best thing in the universe to do just because he wanted to get laid.

But never mind, because it was done now, said his reasonable mind. And his cock, which really wanted to be part of the argument.

Rising to his feet, noticing that Chakotay didn't even blink at the movement, he checked his cup. It was almost empty. Never mind, he consoled himself grimly, because Chakotay's was too.

He gathered both cups and put them together on the side. "Do you want anything else, Chakotay?" he asked carefully, sounding as nice and unthreatening and simple as possible.

Now the man looked round. Huh. Tom wished that when he looked that bleak, he would also look so incredibly, utterly lush with it. Lush?! Hmm. Oh dear. Tom wasn't happy about the way his vocabulary kept dissolving.

Chakotay looked as if he was about to say something, then just shook his head. "No, thanks."

Deciding he shouldn't press it, Tom shrugged. "You're welcome."

As the words lingered in the air, Tom realised with a sinking heart that he'd used the exact tone of voice that Chakotay had delivered those words in a few agonising seconds ago. He waited, wondering if the man would think he was sharing another joke with himself.

Chakotay looked at him sharply, those same thoughts probably going through his mind, and Tom smiled slightly in that steady regard. He was relieved to see suspicion fade from the gaze, as the older man let it go. The perfect lips even curved in a slight smile, though it was more private than anything else.

"Well, I'm having some soup," he claimed, needing to break the silence. As he said the words he realised how hungry he was -- he'd been meaning to get some food -- oh. Some food right after he'd jerked off, but Chakotay had come round.

Suddenly he felt impatient. Chakotay had come round, and he'd made no progress whatsoever -- even the daring move of getting them both horny as hell on these stupid crystals hadn't paid off, because he'd been too scared to say things straight, and instead ended up confusing the guy even more. And Chakotay had only come round to sort things out.

An idea shot through his mind, settling there.

He glanced up, feeling daring and anticipatory and yet sure he was going to regret it. "I'm hungry," he said, looking directly into Chakotay's eyes, the words carefully loaded with a bit of meaning and absolutely no sarcasm. No escape this time. "You're sure you don't want some?" He restrained from including himself in the gesture towards the replicator -- now that would be too obvious.

Highly relieved as he saw a spark of challenge flare in Chakotay's eyes, he raised his eyebrows in a polite, innocent query, and smiled, not so innocently. Here goes...

"What an offer. Okay then, Paris, you've tempted me. I do feel a little hungry."

Under an amused gaze, Tom carried his bowl of soup to the table and set it down carefully without spilling. In more ways than one, after hearing the tone of Chakotay's voice, actually. "What can I offer you?" he asked over his shoulder, taking a quick mouthful of soup. Mmm. Perfect temperature. He swallowed, closing his eyes, reaching for another spoonful.

"What have you got?" came a low voice directly behind him, directly behind. Tom spun, wide-eyed, his left hand leaning on the table for support, his right holding his spoon out like a weapon. Chakotay looked at him, standing so close, so gorgeous, looked right at him, with his eyes, those eyes, at him, ahh. Then, still looking at Tom, he leaned forwards slightly and slowly, pointedly, delicately flicked out his tongue and licked the soup off the spoon until it was shiny. Fairy licks. Completely erotic. Tom nearly came on the spot. He suspected the other man knew this, judging by the glint in his eye.

Then one of Chakotay's nice hands snaked around his back and supported him -- good thing, because his arm felt somewhat shaky -- as the other gently pried the spoon from his fingers and dropped it to the floor. Tom looked up (because he was somewhat leant backwards) into a sceptical gaze, set off perfectly by a mix of lust and humour.

"I said, what have you got?" Chakotay repeated, emphasising the last word with deliberate query. Tom allowed a slightly concerned expression to light on his face. He glanced from side to side, as if looking for something. Then he looked back at Chakotay, slightly apologetic, slightly worried, mostly repressing a big grin, and the other man knew it.

"Uh, me?" he hazarded, then watched as that dark gaze darkened further, and slid down to focus on his mouth. Without thinking, he let his tongue flick out to moisten very dry lips.

Chakotay tightened his arm, drawing him against him, and that was the only warning before his lips pressed against Tom's, demanding entry, and a hot tongue licked once inside his mouth.

"Mmm, soup," Chakotay murmured, drawing back briefly and tilting his head in the other direction, before leaning down again.

Tom admitted him instantly, melting into the pure heat that explored his mouth in probing, interested strokes. Tom's arms suddenly had strength in them, at least when it came to holding Chakotay's head right where it was and making sure he didn't get away. He pushed his fingers through the short crop, angling his head to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth wider, pressing himself as close to the other man as possible.

Chakotay tasted so good. He felt so good, but what was most overpowering was that he tasted so good -- spicy, hot, masculine, sliding over his tongue, a slight tinge of soup complimenting hot and spicy and hot and, uh, masculine, and spicy and, uh, hot --

He gave up trying to examine his thoughts, instead examining lips and teeth with fervour, tasting him and relishing the powerful retaliation, that delicious mouth sucking and nibbling at his tongue.

Chakotay leant more heavily against him, slipping his leg between Tom's, that their cocks touched through the layers of material, and he gasped, as the weight and the touch and oh look all his senses had given up and all he knew was being kissed into oblivion.

Suddenly he felt dizzy. That little thing, what was it, oh yeah, oxygen deprivation, had come knocking. The short gasps he was managing weren't sustaining him, and a brief prayer for another airway hadn't been answered. He drew back, breathing heavily, but slightly smug that Chakotay looked as dazed as he was sure he did.

"Gods..." That wasn't right. He shouldn't be able to speak like that, making that word thing...

With decisive enthusiasm, Tom spun them around until Chakotay was the one bent against the table, helpless beneath him. Then he set about making sure little things like words were far from his mind. Or at least his lips. Words bad. Tongue good for other things.

But moans were all right, he decided a moment later, when Chakotay had dragged his teeth over his lower lip and he'd only noticed making a plaintive mew when it reached his ears. Of course, the slight chuckle from the man beneath him had been a bit of an indication too. But he'd felt vindicated when he returned the biting kiss, and he swore he heard Chakotay purr. Or perhaps growl.

And with that it seemed Chakotay had had enough submission; he laced his fingers through Tom's and held them firmly to his sides, pushing him slowly backwards in small steps punctuated with searing kisses, until Paris felt the solid edge of the couch behind his knees. Which buckled, as Chakotay continued pushing him, until he was pinned into the soft padding under a relentless assault.

Warm fingers began stroking round his collar, sliding buttons from their homes, and said fingers swept round deeper inside, and Tom shuddered at the touch. He wondered distantly if Chakotay felt these flames as hot as he did, this entirely consuming, all encompassing, totally devastating fire.

He also wondered if Chakotay was planning on taking him on the couch. He wondered distantly how he could be taken, having never had much interest in 'gay experiments'. It had all looked a bit uncomfortable, a bit awkward. And the pictures his mind had obligingly conjured up earlier hadn't been terribly informative. Evocative, but hardly an instruction manual.

He felt a slight reluctance to admit naivete, and automatically ignored a shiver at the thought Chakotay might just take complete control. After all, he was supposed to be the dominating one.

And then he whimpered, as the man on top of him skimmed a nipple with one 'careless' fingernail.

But the couch, however mind-blowing, would be uncomfortable in the morning. He began to collect his scattered will power to pull back and offer the suggestion.

But, before he managed to, Chakotay ducked away, fingers still wandering deliciously lower, as more of his clothing melted away under the touch. "Bed" he murmured huskily, backing up the statement with another button, another inch of skin vulnerable to be stroked. Begging to be stroked.

Not waiting for an answer, Chakotay suddenly broke contact. Tom watched, dazed, amazed and somewhat glazed, as the dark man stood up. He looked so tall, imposing. Overpowering. Mmm. Big. Mmm. Ahem. Mmm.

Chakotay brought his hand to his mouth, slowly wiping it with two fingertips, firmly, before his lips curved into a dangerous smile. Tom almost melted into the flash of dimples, before the leer blended inwards until it only glimmered through dark eyes.

Keeping eye contact, Chakotay began walking away, stepping slowly and deliberately towards the bedroom. And then, gaze raking pointedly over Tom's body - splayed boneless against the couch, hair and clothes in mussed disarray, top open -- he raised an eyebrow. Tom looked utterly wanton. And Chakotay's gaze seemed to be pretty highly appreciative.

Then, with a provocative flick of his tongue, outlining his top lip in a shockingly enticing gesture, he turned and walked into the bedroom. Shrugging off his shirt, Tom discovered his legs had found some energy, as he hurried after his... lover? No, and "luster" wasn't a word. Screw? Well, yes, but that might be what he described Megan as after a row. A loose Screw, with a couple of screws loose. So instead, how about... Boyfriend?

Tom shook his head disparagingly, until he passed through the doorway and focused on the bed. Thoughts and movement ceased abruptly. The bed. On which there was a Chakotay, looking as he'd never seen him before. That would be because he'd only ever seen him before looking upright, properly dressed, expression amiable or angry. He'd never seen him reclining on his side among some pillows, propped up on his elbow, with bare -- gorgeous -- chest and strained -- ohh boy -- pants, and an expression...huh. He was smouldering. Especially when he blinked like that, so lazily, so seductive, so powerful -- Tom would have felt mildly embarrassed at the growing list of compliments, had he not had other things on his mind.

Because as he watched, Chakotay put a forefinger in his mouth, to the knuckle, twisted it as he slowly drew it out again, before slowly and deliberately bringing his hand down, and touching his fingertip lightly to each dark nipple -- they hardened instantly, Tom could see, even from the distance. He wanted to close that distance, but couldn't break the spell. Chakotay could, but he wasn't doing -- instead slowly outlining them.

Then brought his finger back to his mouth, this time only licking the tip, before trailing it down through the scattering of dark hair, finally coming to the top of his uniform pants. Still just using one diligent finger, he edged the belt through its fastenings, then tilted the buckle with thumb and middle finger, sliding it open with the careful forefinger, then turning his tantalising attention to the pants themselves.

With his gaze still fixed on Tom, dark brown eyes watching dark blue eyes watching his hand's slow movements, as it gradually drew the fabric apart, so slow, gradually pushing them over his hips... Finally the pants were off, and he lay naked apart from a pair of black boxers which seemed to be many sizes too small.

Then Chakotay made some small movement, and Tom's stare flew immediately to the other man's eyes. So liquid. Mesmerised by the depth in that gaze, for a moment he didn't notice what the other man was saying with the look.

Until Chakotay flashed his eyebrows and smiled a suggestion. Tom's mouth went dry. The man on his bed beckoned lazily with one finger, and Tom walked obediently, dazed, across the floor. When he was right next to the bed, a hand against his crotch paused him.

Well, it paused most of him. His erection jumped against the touch, even through the material, and the single finger traced a seemingly random pattern, leisurely, over the taut denim. It crept higher and higher, and Tom found himself torn between pressing closer or moving away, instead opting for screwing his fingers into tight fists, tilting his head back with eyes closed, and trying not to make hoarse noises in his throat. And failing.

At the moan, Chakotay pressed slightly harder with his fingertip, circling and outlining the shape of his restricted sex, wandering higher until it met the waistband of his jeans. This it quickly investigated, easily pushing the button open and dipping inside.

The shock of a warm finger sliding, under the fabric, sweeping against his wantonly reacting skin, caused a gasp and Chakotay chuckled from the bed below. Then the finger tugged on the waistband, and Tom found himself pulled forwards by his crotch, legs flat against the bed with his hips pushed forwards, and Chakotay had sat up a little.

The combination of both hands made short work of Tom's jeans -- and Chakotay seemed pleased to discover the lack of underclothes -- as he pushed the denim down to his knees.

Tom properly registered the fact his groin was level with Chakotay's mouth about the time the dark man leaned forwards and blew lightly on the head of his cock. He squeaked hoarsely, fists instantly uncurling, and fingers latching onto Chakotay's head for balance as the breath of air seared through him, heat radiating from his erection to slice through his veins.

Tom realised he was immobilised by the jeans around his legs about the time Chakotay leaned forwards, and delicately lapped the pearl of moisture from the tip of his cock in the same manner he'd cleaned the spoon, holding Tom's hips firmly in both hands.

"Ahh -- " he responded helplessly, closing his eyes against the image of the dark head bent in front of him, opening them again as he realised this only made the sensations feel stronger, trying not to come.

Chakotay blew again, this time directing the cool flow of air all the way down his erection, then up again, spending the last on the very tip. Shivers coursed through him, touching his toes and elbows and tongue, and he gripped the head beneath his fingers harder in a vain attempt at directing the maddening mouth.

Which refused point blank to be directed, emphasising this by slowly leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on the tender skin just inside Tom's thigh, then retreating again, perfectly innocent except for the passing nuzzle at his balls.

"G-ahh -- !" Tom said. He'd thought there was a little more strength in his arms, but evidently not.

He clung desperately, winding his fingers through hair that was too short, really, to be wound, as Chakotay repeated the move on the other side.

"G-ahh -- !" Tom said. He'd stopped thinking.

Chakotay's hands tightened on his hips, bringing him to complete stillness, before he leaned in and slid just the tip of his hot tongue lightly up Tom's cock. The trail burned into his flesh, and his knees buckled.

Chakotay's hands slipped round from his hips to his backside, slowly moving down until fingers gripped each cheek, pulling them slightly apart, then distracted Tom by bringing his open mouth close to the head of his erection and exhaling hotly, tongue flicking out and circling the crown.

Tom whimpered again, he realised, but who wouldn't when he felt a gorgeous man doing this and this and he couldn't do a thing to speed it up or slow it down or go harder or --

One finger slipped down, skipped briefly along the crack of his ass, pressed firmly, momentarily, against the hole, and was gone already. It felt surprisingly goo -- And Chakotay had taken the head of his cock in his mouth, and the heat was incredible, the heat and wet and swirling tongue --

And Tom had groaned. He felt like he might short-circuit, a total meltdown, because his nerve-endings simply couldn't cope with being discovered that fast. Chakotay was showing off, he decided distantly, showing off about how many places Tom had that needed a Chakotay to make them ache with longing, hum with desire, burn with -- And that's showing off too, he squeaked, because Chakotay didn't have to show how far down his throat he could take Tom's cock simultaneously dipping a fingertip inside him just for a second before backing off completely and leaving him swaying and gasping and harder than ever having nearly come harder than, uh, ever.

He was bloody glad he had, though.

Tom watched, glazed, as Chakotay stood up, walked behind him, turned him round, pushed him so he was sitting on the bed, then efficiently removed his jeans by kneeling in front of him and pulling them carefully from his legs, one then the other.

He snapped back to reality when the solid bulk of the mattress connected with his back, and his memory shakily informed him that this was initiated by Chakotay, who'd had stood up, put a hand on both of his shoulders and pressed him flat, easing him round so he lay full length on his bed, then run a dancing finger from his navel to his jaw.

The finger soon turned into a firm grip, tilting his head up to Chakotay's warm lips, velvet lips, moving teasingly against his own beseeching lips until Tom sighed involuntarily, then a slippery tongue nuzzled into his mouth, deepening the kiss. To somewhat implausible degrees, Tom realised, as plausible kisses didn't jump the seconds it took for Chakotay to lie down next to him, underwear presumably disintegrated, and for a hand to curl round his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, coaxing improbable shivers from his ear. Like this one did.

Chakotay moved from his mouth, turning his head away as he gently sucked a slow trail to his other ear. Tom moaned softly as Chakotay's teeth tugged on his earlobe, as his tongue traced round the sensitive hollows that breath bathed with furnace heat.

The other hand left his other ear, trailing lightly down his throat, barely skimming the skin. Tom felt himself shudder, as the combination of contrasting touches tangled inside him, melting into a blunt heat that pulsed impatiently below his stomach.

The fingers moved lower, nails scratching lightly down his chest in fleeting caresses, before trailing down and clasping his cock gently round the base.

Tom's hips jerked up, automatically seeking contact, and Chakotay chuckled softly as he shifted over to pin the man down, carefully avoiding giving his erection the firm pressure it needed.

Tom moaned loudly, as the restriction sent another wave through his already overtaxed cock. "Ohmygod -- " he hissed on his next breath, " -- what are you doing to me?"

Chakotay instantly released him, peering anxious, dilated eyes into his own, rather confused expression.

"Should I stop?" he asked breathlessly, concerned. Tom frowned. He replayed the last few seconds in slightly distant slow motion, and realised he must have given the wrong message.

Taking the advantage, however, he rolled them over until Chakotay was the one pinned beneath him. Then he leaned down and licked Chakotay's lips firmly, drawing back to whisper "no, oh no, don't stop" before returning to discovering the perks of being on top.

For example, the way his whole body was drinking in incredible heat radiating from the figure below him. The way that warmth was put completely to the side compared with feeling his cock pressed slickly into Chakotay's, sliding against skin and burning.

For a second, the heady wave of stimulation washed over him in a blatant threat of ending it all now. He froze, and the kissing Chakotay beneath him moaned softly. That really nearly did make him spill.

He paused a second longer, turning his head sideways in an attempt at distancing himself to force danger away, when Chakotay's tongue flickered round his inadvertently offered ear.

"Fuck me" he breathed huskily, then dragged the morsel of flesh between his sharp teeth, soothing away the bite with his tongue.

Tom gasped, as sensation combined with the dangerous sounding words, shooting through his cock and threatening his control once more.

"Yeah," he managed hoarsely, looking down again, then continued, "but, uh, how?"

Chakotay stopped for a second, looking incredulous into Tom's face. "You never -- ?" he asked, his tone loaded with confused disbelief.

Tom shook his head, worried Chakotay might have little patience with someone so inexperienced. Then he felt a twitch in the man's hips, felt something definitely impatient in all the right ways poking into his stomach, and saw the grin spread on Chakotay's lips.

Chakotay's hands came up and clamped his head down in another teeth clashing kiss, erasing all doubt from the pilot. "You never..." he drawled softly, playfully delighted.

Tom shook his head, which was quickly captured again.

"Oh god I want you inside me -- " Chakotay gasped a moment later, all play vanished under the weight of arousal.

"How?" Tom asked again, and Chakotay's arm shot out and rummaged blindly under the pillow and in the bedside draw.

"Damn, not my room," he observed under his breath, then cocked his eyebrow. "You got any lube? Cause otherwise, we'll have to... improvise."

Tom's mind flooded with realisation that where he was (hopefully) going it would be too tight with out some lubrication. Huh. He thought hard, which proved difficult, then remembered vaguely he'd used something earlier, before Chakotay had turned up, for jerking off.

"Uh, just a second," he promised, slipping off the bed onto decidedly shaky legs and quickly getting the tube from the bathroom. "This okay?" he asked as he came back through the door, catching his breath before expelling it in an appreciative sigh. Chakotay was reclining again. And smouldering. And he was getting pretty damn good at it.

"Mmmhmm," Chakotay confirmed, as Tom slid hurriedly back onto the bed and handed it to him, who absently threaded their fingers as he checked the tube. "Yeah, perfect," he murmured again, then looked back at Tom and continued on a more purring note, "but ohh, your fingers are so cold now you went all that way, let me warm them up for you -- " and brought Tom's hand to his mouth, licking the palm, kissing his wrist with a hot open mouth, gently biting each knuckle, sliding his tongue between his fingers until Tom certainly wasn't suffering from a chill...

"What was that -- tube for, again?" Tom begged desperately, breathing hard, as he writhed under Chakotay's continued attack on his hand, unable to believe he could get that much feeling from just five fingers.

"This one?" Chakotay asked softly, retrieving the errant lube and pressing it into Tom's tingling palm. He nearly dropped it.

"Loose grip?" Chakotay teased, then kissed him firmly with an insistent tongue, then moaned into Tom's mouth as Tom suddenly pressed him back into the mattress and rolled them over, until Chakotay was lying on his back, and Tom was...on top.

Breaking the kiss, he paused a second to admire the flushed bronze skin, endowed with closed eyes and carelessly parted chiselled lips, chest moving beneath him now as quickly as his own. For a second there was no sound, but their rough intake of breath.

"Fuck me already," murmured Chakotay, and Tom felt the husky resonance of the tone vibrating directly beneath him. There was nothing he wanted to do more.

"How?"

Chakotay's eyes were still closed, but his mouth moved in a delighted smile. "Yeah."

"What?" Tom forced himself to swallow at the low, desire-flushed agreement.

Chakotay uttered a noise that was probably laughter, though the humour fled as Tom succumbed to temptation and gently traced the enticing lips, which opened readily beneath his own. "Take the -- tube, and prepare me...with your fingers," he managed breathlessly, waiting until Tom had moved off before rolling onto his front and sliding a pillow beneath his hips, knees slightly bent, offering.

Tom took in the sight, and swallowed. He squeezed some of the clear gel onto his shaking fingers, biting his lip hard as he tried to calm himself. 'The calm before the storm.' The ancient proverb shot through his head, and he bit his lip harder, as the 'storm' set of pictures hurtled through his mind.

He knelt between Chakotay's legs, who immediately spread them a little wider to accommodate, and used his other hand to stroke up the smooth back of his thigh, right up to the crack of his ass, where he paused, feeling the muscles tight beneath the hot skin. He looked up at Chakotay, who had his head cushioned on his arms, eyes shut and breath ragged.

"Go on," Chakotay begged, pushing back against the flat of his hand. Tom swallowed, as the feeling went straight to his cock, already furious at being left out of the action so long.

Carefully, he pushed the legs a little wider apart, and placed one lubricated fingertip against the small hole. "Go on now" came the intense voice again, and he pressed forwards, almost gasping as his finger slid slowly inside. The heat, and the heat, and pressure, and the heat.

He withdrew it slowly, and pushed a larger portion of gel inside the tight, hot body, reading from forgotten instructions, inserting the finger again and this time moving in and out, until the slight noises from the top of the bed modulated to unabashed pleas.

Sharply reining in his control, Tom tried two fingers, finding they slipped in easily past the momentary resistance, felt the pressure as Chakotay tried to take him deeper before he drew back.

"Now, now Tom, now -- "

Gritting his teeth, he grinned viciously at the wanton tone, as he pressed in a third finger, breathing hard in an effort not to shake.

Chakotay, however, felt no such restriction. His entire body was shivering, and he was uttering small, sharp gasps in time to the movements of his fingers. Looking up, Tom saw his head was tilted back against the pillow, hands gripping the sides of the bed, fingers wound around the twisted sheet, and the sharp rush made him freeze for fear of ending it all, right now.

"Tom?!" Chakotay's frustrated voice ground out, as he thrust back at the paused fingers. With a strangled chuckle, Tom quickly squeezed some more gel onto the head of his cock, gasping at the cold shooting through his aching erection, and smoothed it down the shaft with an unsteady hand.

"To-om -- " grated the impatient man beneath him, "pleasepleasenowpleaseplease," he continued frantically, as Tom withdrew his fingers, kneeling closer and carefully putting the head of his cock against Chakotay's anus, feeling the heat radiating off the man below.

" -- nowplease -- " Tom pressed forwards, hands flat against Chakotay's hips, and eased slowly inside the scalding tight passage, that stretched smoothly around his sex, friction -- His hands moved to the mattress, leaning on them heavily, as he sank deeper. Vaguely he remembered not to just drive down into the man below, another long forgotten warning bobbing distantly in this lake of sensation.

"Ahh..." he exhaled, eyes slitting closed and head falling back, as Chakotay pushed back onto him, as more and more of his cock was enveloped in the squeezing slick heat. The resistance of the urge to thrust down was burning in his muscles, his head was pounding with the blood pumped heavy and fast through his veins, and this was heaven, sliding into this hot body, this was paradise.

Finally he was all the way in, his pelvis slotting firmly against the other man's ass. He paused, trying to control the irresistible need to move, and his hips twitched involuntarily. Chakotay bucked, gasping, moaning out hasty compliments with his next laboured breath. Tom nudged again, deep inside, the feeling of such small movement darting up through his body in exquisite friction, and Chakotay moaned louder.

"That's it -- more -- " he managed, and Tom dared draw back halfway before sliding back down, moaning through his teeth. He forced his eyes open, to see the body in front of him, and then felt them flutter closed again as the sensation of being smoothly buried coursed through him, blinding him with pleasure.

His world narrowed down to the darkness, the feel of slick skin tensing beneath his stroking fingers, pure heat encompassing his cock, as he slid into Chakotay.

"Please, harder -- ugh, yes, harder -- " Tom slid his hands round Chakotay's hips, pulling slightly in the hope that -- yes, the man got the message, raising up and back until he was kneeling, with his head still against the mattress, leaning on his elbows. Tom reached round as he slid half out, rocking briefly from the gorgeous new angle, and wrapped his fingers firmly around Chakotay's cock. He moaned as the man thrust sharply forwards into his hand leaving him still more bereft, then again as Chakotay drove back onto his cock, fucking himself deeply and causing Tom to thank a range of gods he didn't honestly believe in.

Suddenly he felt the tension build sharply, as his body began to forget restraint and move hard from pure need, need of this incredible sensation, this exquisite -- this -- this hot -- this -- this -- THIS -- !

Tightening his hand viciously around Chakotay's erection, he jerked him twice hard and fast, in the last second before he was coming, silver sparks and oblivion, vaguely aware the other man had come too, hot wet eruption over his hand. Mostly aware of heat pouring down from his lungs and his ears and his chest and his toes through his cock and into the other man, as the blackness behind his eyes roared into the only sound in the universe, and he really enjoyed this.

*****

Tom woke gradually, in very many stages, as the pain in his stomach gradually intensified. It was like he hadn't eaten for days -- and it was only hours, surely, since that mouthful of soup in the middle of a giant seduction that had ended up with him fu -- wait.

He opened his eyes, heart beating furiously, as he wondered how the hell his mind had come up with such a random idea, and hoping like hell it wasn't the truth. Because if it was the truth, he thought quietly, keeping a firm grip on his panicking mind, then actually he was in really big trouble for drugging the First Officer. Never mind they needed a pilot, they'd just chain him to the Conn and feed him leola soup at sporadic intervals to keep him alive.

Momentarily he skipped track, musing that no interval would be sporadic enough to bear the terror of mashed leola.

But the point was -- All thought of a point sallied from his mind, as the hand he hadn't realised was sliding gradually away in a furtive search touched warm skin.

Tom realised with ample presence of mind that it wasn't his skin. His skin wasn't that far away. He glanced sideways, coming to terms with the fact he had his CO in his bed about the time said CO gently nuzzled against his questing palm. Without thinking, he stroked the smooth cheek, suddenly snatching his hand away when he noticed. Wouldn't do for him to wake up with Tom doing...that.

Mentally, he assessed the time. Much later. He ached. He grinned briefly, as he decided Chakotay probably ached more. But there had been a long enough time for the coffee to wear off. So when Chakotay opened his eyes, he was going to be normal. And somewhat shocked, Tom thought ruefully, refusing to bitterly ask himself how he could have been so stupid.

He knew well how -- just a little dose of unsolved lust, and he was anyone's. Or anyone was his.

Except B'Elanna, of course. Tom realised with a start the name wasn't accompanied with the usual flurry of lust he associated with her. Frowning, he imagined her naked and biting him. Not a twitch.

Huh.

Suddenly his stomach rumbled, disconcertingly loud in the hushed bedroom. He slid carefully out of bed, tiptoeing from the room in a hope of not waking his unlikely partner. He glanced backwards as he left, looking away quickly as the man stirred, highly concerned by the way the man seemed pretty sexy there, sleeping, like that, doing that cute breathing thing and being all in his bed, kind of thing.

Time to change track of mind, perhaps.

Once back in the disordered main room, he caught sight of the solitary bowl of soup left -- he flushed slightly, as he remembered just why he'd left it. The spoon was on the floor.

Quickly, he picked up both and took them to the recycler, grabbing their empty cups at the same time and tossing them away too. He really didn't want the reminders.

Then he stood in front of the replicator, and placed an order.

His morning drink tasted strange, too sweet. There seemed to be a side order of sugar with his meal. Absently glancing at his balance, he realised it was almost the same as yesterday. Give or take a bowl of soup, a breakfast, and some coffee. Not give or take two doses of a highly potent aphrodisiac, custom made, not cheep. He stared at the screen, uneasy.

Then he keyed in the same request. The account hardly changed. He looked at the pinch of tiny crystals in the palm of his hand. Licking a fingertip, he pressed it gingerly into the grains, then put it to his lips. It was very sweet, actually. Not tasteless, really. Sugar, really, actually, oh dear.

He keyed in a query.

It seemed there was a shortage of salt. Among quite a few other things. The apology flashing in the corner of the screen timidly explained that a sudden flare of power had effectively burnt out half the replicator sensors. Completely confusing the damn thing. The computer had attempted to compensate, by substituting the compounds it still knew how to create for...any it had forgotten. It was a pity, that the bulk of the things it remembered were sugars, caffeine's, and synthahol. And since most of the engineers lived on those three ingredients alone, they hadn't noticed until one of them tried for lasagne, and got pieces of toffee layered with ground coffee beans, complete with a lager source.

And they were now beginning the slow regeneration of frazzled files, and advising people to eat at Neelix's for a while, or else develop a very sweet tooth.

Tom looked back at the crystals in his hand. Then he carefully sprinkled them onto the rather sugary idea of fried eggs, and disposed of the whole lot down the recycler. No way was he acquiring that taste...

He whirled round as he heard a noise behind him. Chakotay must have woken up, his mind surmised, as he took in the slightly dishevelled figure in the doorway. Sexily dishevelled figure. Oh, hell.

His brain suddenly latched onto the fact there'd been no aphrodisiac. No excuse. No reprieve. Nothing to induce a wild throe of passion. Huh.

He wondered why everything was moving past him, then noticed he was walking towards Chakotay -- still standing in the doorway, having rubbed his eyes, and wearing nothing but an interested -- no way that was a smile -- leer. He also wondered why his body had stopped listening to his mind, and started doing what it wanted instead. The answer came when one of Chakotay's hands guided him into a leisurely, then not so leisurely, yet completely familiar kiss. Because his body knew best.

Chakotay drew back as his stomach rumbled a protest, grinning ruefully. "Anything to eat?" he asked, absently smoothing Tom's hair.

"Uh, no." Tom shook the fingers from his head, and Chakotay looked at him questioningly. "Ticklish," he explained, feeling part of him melt warmly when a relief-tinged smile met the other's lips.

"Thought for a second you were trying to get rid of me," Chakotay replied, grinning slightly anxiously.

"Course not," Tom purred, swaying into him, suddenly aware his voice had joined with his body in skipping the boring bit about thinking things through first. Instead, it was relying on instinct. And instinct seemed to approve of kissing Chakotay, right now. Huh. Instinct was a good judge.

"But no food?" The hot whisper against his ear reverberated down his spine, and a while later he actually understood what had been said in that phrase thing-whatsit.

"No -- replicator's fucked...mess hall or nothing, I'm -- afraid" he managed, individual words a little distanced from each other as his mouth found other things to do mid sentence.

"So...Neelix's or go hungry, I guess." Chakotay seemed to be struggling from this same speech impediment, Tom noticed. Gleefully.

"Yeah," he agreed, pressing his body flat against Chakotay's in a blatant attempt at pushing him back into the bedroom.

"So how long can you last...without food, that is?" Chakotay teased, willingly stepping backwards, though not so fast that the contact abated. Slow progress, but oh so much fun.

"I should think I can match your, ah, appetite," Tom shot back, the effect spoiled a bit by the last syllable rising nearly an octave, as fingers reacquainted themselves -- firmly.

"Really?" A drawl, mocking, disbelieving, with a gleam of white teeth.

"Yeah, I should think so," Tom replied silkily a moment later, recovering from the sudden assault, pushing the other man down on the bed, and following him fast.

"Quite hungry, then?" Chakotay asked, scalding words twisting firmly around segments of his anatomy.

"Yeah...famished," he bit off, as warm hands followed the fingers, with no less spectacular reaction.

"Completely ravenous then?"

Tom wasn't in a position to answer. He had other... things... at hand.


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