Disclaimer:  Kow-tows to the honourable BratKatze.  All praise belongs to
her, all criticism to me.

Paramount: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Owns all, does nothing with it. Me make money
out of this? No way.

===================
Today Be Sweet, Part 3/3
by whitecrow
June 1998
===================

"Why did you do it, Tom?" Quiet, almost unnoticed.  Tom 
wondered what he'd missed in the conversation leading up to this.

"Unnh,  seemed like a good idea at the time?" he quipped.

And then Chakotay seemed to change.  Gone was the good host, 
the well-mannered Starfleet captain, the distant stranger.  The 
Chakotay he'd expected  to see, the one that he really owed an 
explanation to, had arrived.

"Enough.   You owe me.  You owe me, and Kathryn, and B'Elanna 
and Harry, the truth, if you're capable of telling it.  *We* didn't 
leave like thieves in the night, *we* didn't run away from you, Tom, 
you ran from us. You ran from me.  I loved you, more than my life.  
You threw that back at me. Weren't we good enough for you?"  
Despite his words his voice was angry, a whitehot anger that Tom 
had rarely seen.

Tom leaned forward and very deliberately placed his glass on the 
table. He was damned if he was going to let Chakotay intimidate 
him.  The big man was in a raging temper, and it was an intimidating 
sight.  But when he looked up he'd found the anger to match 
Chakotay's. 

"You couldn't help me, none of you could.  It was the right thing to 
do.  I wasn't going to drag your careers down in the mud with me.  
You, it's just typical of you, you'd have come riding along as if you 
could save me single-handed from the wrath of Starfleet and carry 
me off on your white horse.  I didn't need saving, and I sure as hell 
didn't need saving at the expense of your new life.  Your career, 
your pardon, your own command, your own ship, you didn't need 
me to kill all that for you!"

"You never gave us the chance!  You ran off, never even said 
goodbye, never trusted us enough to help you.  How d'you think 
that made us feel?  You didn't have the courage to trust your 
friends, to trust me!"

He stood in agitation, turned as if to move away, then swung back.  
"What were you afraid of?  What were you *really* afraid of?"

"That you wouldn't fight for me!'  Tom shouted at him, goaded to 
the ultimate truth, a truth he'd sworn never to reveal.  "That you all 
had such bright and wonderful futures, all of you, everything you'd 
ever wished for, everything we'd talked about in the Delta Quadrant 
that we wanted when we got home, all of you, except *me*.  
Nothing, I got nothing.  Oh yeah, I forgot, I didn't get to go back to 
jail.  Big deal.  You all had so much, why would you ruin it by 
standing up for me?  I didn't want to stick around to find out!"

"So you took the choice away from us!  How do you know what 
we'd have done, you never gave us the chance.  You never trusted 
me enough..." and this time Chakotay did turn away.  He walked 
straight ahead to the wall between the two rooms, and rested his 
hand against it briefly.  Tom wanted to vomit.

In a quiet voice he said, "I went to see my father.  I figured, maybe, 
if I begged him enough, he'd fight for me.  I was wrong.  He told me 
he didn't have a son called Thomas, and he slammed the door in my 
face." He paused.  "After that, I ran."

Chakotay's head bowed, touched the wall. Oh spirits, how much 
more? 

It seemed an eternity before he straightened, turned back to Tom.  
"So, what have you been doing?" he asked, in a calm and reasonable 
voice, as if the previous conversation hadn't taken place.  "How 
long have you been a runner?"  He poured himself fresh coffee and 
sat down opposite Tom again.

Jesus, I can't keep up with this conversation! Tom thought to 
himself.  Since when did he get so quick-brained, since when did my 
brains turn to mush? He sorted through his memories, discarding 
many, sanitising more than a few.  He took a sip of coffee, then one 
of wine, to gain some space.

"I've been a runner for about three months now. They're not picky 
out here on the frontier, and at least it's a chance to fly.  Guess you 
run into a few yourself, huh?"

"Yes, every now and then.  Frankly they're a bit of a pest, always 
having to be rescued and patched up, but you can't fault their 
bravery, or stupidity."

"Yeah, I'd definitely go for the latter.  Stupid is the name of the game."

"And before that?"

Tom was more guarded now. 'Unnh, when, before that?"

"Busy life, huh?" Chakotay quipped.  "When you ran out on us, 
actually. For the year before you became a runner."

"Oohhh, ahh then. Mmmm..." his brain scrambled.  Danger, danger, 
no going there.  "Well, I bummed around a bit, wrote a few 
holoprograms, patched up a few spacecraft, got a bit of a rep as a 
good engineer's monkey...."

Chakotay leaned forward.  "Was that before or after Ursula's 
Moon?"

Ohshitohshitohshithow'dheeverfindout oh shit how'd he ever find 
out, oh jesus, chalice de..."Unnh..."

"Heard a rumour about a year ago, a blond blue-eyed whore 

available in a bar on Ursula's Moon.  Ex-Starfleet.  Drawing them in 
like flies to honey, apparently, all those scum with a grudge against 
Starfleet taking it out on his ass.  Never caught the act's name, but 
we called in there about eight nine months ago.  Managed to find 
the bar, surprisingly.  Owner said the act'd skipped town, he'd had 
to let him go, he was drugged most of the time, drank so much he 
couldn't get it up in the end.  Showed us a poster he'd had drawn up 
to bring in the customers.  He gave me a copy 'for my own personal 
use', he said. Like to see it?  It's a work of art.  All that blue glitter,

those spangles..."

"Shit..."

"So how did you get off -world?  Fuck you way off?"

"Chakotay... jesus, look, .."

"Why are you a runner, Paris?  Got tired of earning money the easy 
way, flat on your back?"

"Christ... look it wasn't that way, wasn't like that..." Antrygg 
Walker, who'd found him when the bar owner threw him out on 
Ursula's Moon.  Taken him home, handcuffed him to a bed, then left 
him in his own shit and vomit until he'd nearly died of thirst.  
Thrown buckets of cold water over him to clean him off, then left 
him to shake his own way out of drug addiction and alcoholic 
poisoning.  Using him like a piece of furniture   He'd wake up with a 
cock in his mouth, up his ass, whatever Antrygg felt like, until he 
finally sobered up hard enough and long enough to figure out a way 
to get free of the handcuff and escape.

Then he really *had* fucked his way off-world, the quickest trip to 
the closest planet, where he had begun to work honestly, 
programming, grease monkey, anything, avoiding bars, avoiding 
strangers that stared at his blond hair, looked hard and long at his 
body.  He shook off memory, looked up at Chakotay.

The big man was standing before him, fists clenched.  "How much?"

"Hunnh...?"

"How much to fuck you?  What do you charge? If fixing you up, 
fixing your ship up, isn't enough, just what else do you want?  
Medicines, food, latinum?  What's your price now, Paris?"

"Chakotay...." 

Abruptly Chakotay moved, leaning his hands on either side of Tom's 
head, imprisoning him.  His mouth came down brutally hard on 
Tom's, his tongue forcing its way inside.  Instinctively Tom recoiled, 
fighting against this, wanting to run away.  Chakotay lifted his head, 
hunger in his eyes.  His hand closed on Tom's jaw, holding him still.
"Starfleet whore..." then he kissed Tom again, violently, 
possessively.

For an instant Tom fought, one mindless instant, while he felt the 
unbelievable implacable strength of Chakotay holding him, then his 
brain took over again.  If that's what the guy wanted, a whore, then 
that's what he'd get.  Sinuously Tom slid his body up against the 
captain's, opened his mouth, sucking hard on Chakotay's tongue.  
His hand slid towards Chakotay's groin, rubbing against the 
burgeoning erection he found there.  Suddenly Chakotay's hands 
were tearing at his clothing, ripping his shirt, fumbling at his pants.  
Tom reciprocated, his hands finding skin faster than Chakotay's, 
slipping inside the waistband of Chakotay's trousers, gripping him, 
stroking...

With a roar Chakotay reared back.  "Damn you, Tom, I don't want 
a whore!  That's all you are, all you ever were, ohh... spirits don't 
touch me...!" he pulled away, and almost ran to the bedroom.

Tom sat, shaken.  Oh god, memory had played him false.  The feel 
of Chakotay's hands on his body, his mouth, the velvet brown eyes, 
it had all come back, crashing over him.  He sobbed once, then 
slowly made his way to the bedroom.

Chakotay lay on the bed, face turned away from the doorway, his 
shoulders shaking.  Tom wondered if he was crying or screaming in 
anger.  He approached the captain, and gently removed his shoes, 
socks.  Chakotay lay still, unmoving.  Tom's clever hands slid 
beneath him and unfastened the trousers, sliding them and the shorts 
off the body that made no move to help or hinder him.  The shirt 
had already fallen off in Chakotay's panicked escape.

Slowly he removed his own clothes, then pulled the bedclothes from 
under Chakotay.  He slid down beside the captain, and pulled the 
unresisting man against his own chest.  He covered them both, and 
requested low lights. 

As he lay there, feeling the familiar heartbeat against his own, 
sadness overwhelmed him.  He bent his head to ease the ache in this 
throat, and nuzzled against Chakotay's back.  He kissed it gently, 
tasting the skin he had once known better than his own, loved more 
than his own.  Pain shot through his heart, and one tear escaped.  
Could he have done any worse with his life?  He'd run when the 
going got tough, fled from everyone who loved him, from this man 
who had loved him, without even a farewell.

He hid his face against Chakotay's broad back, and held onto the 
man he still loved as if it was his only lifeline. 

---------------------------------///-------------------------

A few hours later Chakotay awoke, wrapped in familiar arms, 
feeling a well-remembered breath against his shoulder.  He turned 
slowly, moving within his gentle prison.  He moved back slightly to 
look at Tom's sleeping face. "Lights 50%" he whispered, hoping the 
computer could hear him at that low volume, but it did, and the 
lights raised.  Now he could feast his eyes, if that was all he would 
ever have again of Tom.  And as he watched the blue eyes opened.

For a moment neither breathed.  Both were afraid to move in case 
movement shattered the close confines of this tiny world they 
inhabited in just this tiny moment of time.  Then as if mindlinked 
they moved slowly, lips touching in the softest of caresses.  Hesitant 
tongues moved to touch warm lips, to touch other tongues, to enter 
gently and explore wet softnesses.  Their bodies moved closer, and 
Chakotay's hand slid down Tom's chest, to find and linger on the 
slender waist, smooth up to the hipbone, then down the flat 
abdomen to the beloved cock, stirring now, even as his own stirred 
against that body. He sighed into the mouth, moved back slightly to 
permit his cock room to spring upwards, to kiss the jaw, to lick and 
kiss the neck, the collarbone, to play this body with his hands and 
tongue as he had done so often in the past. He wanted to move 
Tom with his unspoken plea, with the worship of his body.  To 
move him back into Chakotay's life, Chakotay's bed.

Tom moved, his body responding to Chakotay's pleasuring.  He had 
forgotten how easily Chakotay could arouse him, how swiftly 
Chakotay could make him lose control of his desire.  He stirred, 
legs opening, hungry for something still out of reach.  His spine 
arched as Chakotay bit gently on his nipple, and he gasped out loud 
as the hand on his cock moved down to grip his ballsack 
possessively. 

His own hands were busy, mapping again the contours of this so-
beloved body, feeling again the strength hidden in the broad chest, 
the muscular legs against his own, knee pushing him apart, warm 
thigh lifting to rub against his perineum, his balls.

And still Chakotay kissed him, moving downwards with an 
inexorability that only heightened Tom's desire, his hunger for 
consummation.

The captain's tongue slipped into his navel, and he arched again, his 
voice releasing a shuddering cry.  Then the large hands lifted his 
hips, lifted his cock to Chakotay's waiting mouth and he almost 
screamed at the beauty of it, at the remembered glory of feeling 
Chakotay's mouth around him, seeing Chakotay's head moving up 
and down on his length.  Ohhhh god it was too much, he'd waited 
so long for this, it was like he'd been celibate for 16 months, and he 
had been, for none of the men who'd touched him had been 
Chakotay, and he was losing it, he was going to come, he couldn't
hold... then the mouth lifted, removing the wet heat from around 
him and he cried out, once.

Chakotay looked down at him.  "What do you want, Tom?  Do you 
want to fuck me?"

And he knew what Chakotay was offering him, a chance not to be 
the vessel, a chance to be the dominant one, but he didn't need it, 
not with Chakotay. He wanted so much more to be filled by 
Chakotay, to be owned and possessed by this one man in the 
universe to whom he surrendered every right and desire he had to 
be possessed.  "No," he whispered, barely ableto speak.  "Please, 
fuck me.  Please make me yours, own me...please..."

And then warm fingers were inside him, he was being prepared with 
love, and a gentleness he hadn't known for the last 16 months.  He 
sobbed once, twisting his face to rub away the memory of being 
used roughly, sinking into the feelings that Chakotay was 
awakening in him. The captain looked down at the man beneath 
him, love and concern making him pause in his task.  The 
desperation in Tom's voice, the edge of madness in his cry, none of 
it escaped him.  So Tom had hurt him when he'd left.  What price 
had Tom paid for that? Chakotay wondered, even as his fingers 
moved in the well-known rhythm.  Tom moved under him, arching 
up, his eyes closed  His lashes lay as a faint shadow against his 
cheeks, and for an instant Chakotay was so aware of Tom's frailty 
and mortality that his heart ached. He pushed it aside.

Bending his head once more his lips brushed Tom's, as he moved 
between the long legs, lifting them to accommodate himself.  Then 
he was bending forward, sliding in, sliding home, and Tom's eyes 
had opened in surprised fear, instantly crushed as his eyes fastened 
on Chakotay's face, those blue eyes, that he had missed for so long, 
that exquisite sapphire shade they turned as passion darkened them.  
The dark eyes looked into the blue, and Chakotay poured 
everything he'd ever felt, everything he was capable of feeling, 
everything he would ever feel in his life for Tom, into his body, his 
eyes, his soul, all the nights of pain and all the nights of anger, he let 
it all overwhelm him, then cried out, as the thundering surge 
overtook him, pushing him past rational and logical thought.  
"Tom," he cried out, "Tom, love you, love you..." and he felt Tom 
convulse under him, heard Tom's cry, and his heart healed at that 
cry, even as he thrust deep into the beloved body, more precious 
than his own, more precious than life, spilling himself, giving his life 
once more to Tom.

Even as he shuddered his orgasm into Tom his hands slid under 
Tom's shoulders, lifting him, welding their bodies together, as his 
body curved in the last thrust of passion, then they were collapsing 
together, and Chakotay turned them, still joined as one, to lie side 
by side, panting, breaths shuddering, sighs deep voiced.  He looked 
at his lover.  "I love you, Tom." he whispered softly.  Tom's eyes 
shone, his lips parted, but he couldn't say the words, frightened by 
the promise they must contain. But Chakotay read it anyway, knew 
all the things he wanted to say and couldn't.  "It's alright, Tom, I 
know." he said in answer.  He kissed Tom once more, then settled 
himself more comfortably.  He had waited 16 months to lie like this 
again, sleep could wait a little longer.

So they lay together, as the great ship moved through the stars.  It 
didn't matter whether this was home, or merely a resting place on 
the journey for one or both of them, for the moment, for now, it 
was enough.

Finis