AN ACCIDENTAL PASSION

Title: An Accidental Passion, 2/2 
Author: Jaye (Copyright October 2002) 
Codes: VOY C/P NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are
the  property of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit
made. This  is NC-17 for m/m sex. If you aren't interested (or
aren't old enough),  don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please
keep  the text (especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
wordsmith872@fastmail.fm

Summary: While on an away mission, a member of Voyager's crew drinks
an  alien aphrodisiac.

Note: AU (no P/T). Set some time after "Day of Honor." Part 2 isn't
a  continuation of Part 1, it's actually a reset. Part 1 is Version
1,  where Tom's drink is spiked. In Part 2 (Version 2), Chakotay
imbibes the  potent punch. POV switches back and forth.

***************

VERSION TWO: GENTLEMAN PREFERS BLOND

I always know exactly where Tom Paris is. Take right now, in the
middle  of the Oolian welcoming reception. Voyager's fair-haired
pilot at this  moment is standing exactly 8.5 meters due west of my
position. He's not  happy, which is not surprising, considering the
condescension he's been  dealing with all day.

I remember well the first time I became aware that I was
unconsciously  tracking Tom. The shock of the realization froze me
in my tracks in the  middle of Voyager's holodeck resort. On that
evening, without warning,  I found myself preternaturally aware of
his presence in relation to  mine. The flash of his hair in the
corner of my eye, the lilt of his voice  at the edge of my hearing.
A golden thread seemed to stretch between  us, one that linked us on
some level that was below conscious choice but  above pure instinct.
At least, that's what *I* felt. I have no  illusions it was mutual.

That was some months ago. Since that moment, if we are in a room 
together I have no need to guess where Tom is physically. I just
know. I also  sense some of what he's hiding beneath all the
smartass comments and  the brittle mask he sometimes still shapes
his face into when he seeks to  hold others at bay.

This new ability of mine isn't any great mystical talent. It's
simply a  shift in priority, in perspective. An acknowledgement of
feelings that  had lain dormant for years.

I have always been attracted to blondes. A personal quirk that I 
discovered when I left home to attend the Academy. It didn't matter
that I  was only 15. As soon as I settled on Earth I knew that I'd
never be able  to marry a woman from my tribe. I wouldn't be happy
with a brunette.  Maybe it's a symptom of my innate contrariness, or
some psychological  predisposition. Who knows? I certainly didn't
care. As I reached the age  for dating, sex, and love, my preference
became well-established. I  never varied from my infrequent but
exclusive diet of light-haired ladies.

So years later when I followed my contact into a backwater dive to 
recruit a pilot for the Maquis, the first thing I noticed about the
person  in question was their hair. In fact, it was the only thing I
could see  over the back of the bench, bright strands gleaming in
the murky light  of the bar.

I was a little annoyed at my own interest. There I was, devastated
by  the death of my father, the destruction of my homeworld, the
abandonment  of the Starfleet career I'd sacrificed so much for.
Hardened by what  I'd seen, what I'd been forced to do as a Maquis
Captain. And exhausted  from days of fighting with only a few hours'
sleep. Yet my libido spiked  at the sight of that blonde head.

From my body's reaction I assumed it was a blonde head, that is, a 
female one. As I circled the booth to slide into the opposite seat I
was  shocked to see that the locks in question actually belonged to
a man. A  sloppy, thin, rather careworn male whose sharp blue eyes
regarded me  with equal measures of distrust and disdain.

I barely heard the introductions as I plopped onto the other bench
and  shifted in. The desire I felt should have subsided immediately
upon  discovery that the blond in question was clearly the wrong
gender. Yet  there I was for the first time in my life, aroused by a
lean, undeniably  handsome, fair-haired *man*. It was unbelievable.
Simply ridiculous. I  wouldn't have had a clue what to do with him
even if he'd been  interested.

It certainly didn't help matters that my brain started filling in
the  blanks with images frankly pornographic. I was glad for the
dimness of  the bar to cover my flush and the opacity of the table
hiding my  incipient hard on.

Then my golden vision opened his mouth and solved my problematic 
attraction for me. His obvious disregard for everyone and 
everything---including the Maquis---pretty much cured me of my
uncharacteristic bout of  homosexual lust. The haggling over his
fee, which was liberally sprinkled  with typical Paris wisecracks,
was a rasp against the edges of my  frayed patience and
sleep-deprived control. I don't think Tom has any idea  how close he
came to serious bodily harm that night. Yet, strangely, I  was also
grateful to him. He was so obnoxious a person I had no qualms  about
writing off the spark of interest as nothing more than an 
aberration born of exhaustion.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder if I was just a little too eager to 
dismiss Tom and his effect on me, however temporary. Especially when
I  recall how quickly after that I took up Seska on her offer---and
she  wasn't even blonde, just female and available. Our affair was
over almost  before it began, and long before she turned on me I
knew it was a  mistake. A costly one.

In any case, Voyager and some irony-loving fate brought Tom and I 
together again, and we settled down into an uneasy, sharp-edged
truce. He  excelled at rattling my composure and testing the limits
of my temper,  much to my chagrin. His cutting remarks always struck
too close to home;  they stung. And occasionally I would sink to his
level, my disdain a  clumsy swipe seeking to wound in return.

I don't think it was very effective. I doubt my opinion of Tom
mattered  all that much to him.

That stark, painful truth was brought home to me the day Voyager's
hero  made his appearance on Neelix's show to "apologize" for his
deliberate  insubordination to flush out the spy on board. I was
already reeling,  from the shock of Kathryn's distrust in me and my
abilities, of Tuvok's  second betrayal. I was questioning whether
there was any point to my  sticking around at all in Voyager's
command structure, since I was  apparently such a superfluous part
of it.

Not to mention what a fool I felt, spending all those weeks trying
to  understand Tom's behavior. Offering to listen or help. When I
discovered  it was all an act, part of an elaborate plot, I nearly
threw up. My  guts rebelled so strongly to the thought of being used
that way, on such a  personal level, by people I had thought of as
friends.

And Tom's mocking words, delivered to the whole of the crew, simply 
twisted the knife deeper. At first I thought he was simply a cruel,
cruel  bastard to kick a man when he was down. Then I decided that
Tom was  simply incapable of anything more, or better. Perhaps he
figured that his  little speech *did* set things right between us.

So I waited for a private moment, thanked him for his public
apology,  and backed off. I avoided him completely in my off-duty
time and became  indifferent to him professionally. Whereas before I
was doing my best  to make sure Tom matured into the exceptional
officer I thought he could  be, after the Jonas incident I simply
accepted him for the mediocre one  he often was. As long as he
stayed on the right side of the regs he was  fully and solely
Kathryn's "reclamation project". I washed my hands of  him.

Ironically, after I no longer cared he began to improve. He became 
respectful and courteous, his biting wit gentled, his level of 
responsibility increased. He became a pleasure to know.

So Tom and I began the third phase of our complicated history. We 
delicately moved, step by cautious step, from merely professional 
acquaintances to casual ones. It wouldn't be unusual for us to hang
around after  the rest of our group left the holodeck for the night,
just talking or  shooting pool. Surprisingly enough, having fun in
each other's company.  I opened myself up to him, slowly. We were
drifting into a true  friendship.

Then that horrible shuttle accident occurred. We came so close to 
losing both B'Elanna and Tom, and I realized how much I would have
missed  them. Both of them.

Soon after that Tom asked to see me, off the record but in my
capacity  as a counselor. He had an important decision to make and
needed a  sounding board. I was honored that he would have such
trust in me, and  accepted his conditions.

Those sessions were a revelation. I learned so much more about the
man  behind the Flyboy persona. His life hadn't been as easy as I'd
always  imagined, and I confirmed my suspicion that his braggadocio
hid a rather  sensitive soul. One that was now considering reaching
out to B'Elanna,  who was apparently in love with him. At least,
that's what she'd said  with what she thought was her dying breath.
Tom wasn't sure how he felt  about her at first, but eventually he
made a choice and peace with  himself. He thanked me for my time and
advice, but didn't tell me his  decision.

That night, I watched Tom approach B'Elanna at the resort and
wondered  if they would be a couple soon. It was as I was walking
out that I  realized I could sense Tom had moved. And I knew I
desperately wanted him  shifting *away* from B'Elanna. Because
somewhere along the line my  long-forgotten passion had awakened
with a vengeance, and deepened into  love.

I had given in to the visceral attraction of Tom's golden charms. 
Succumbed to the irresistible lure of his mercurial spirit, quick
mind, and  paradoxical soul.

As soon as I opened my eyes to the state of my heart I was lost to
the  blond completely. Tom was a constant guest in my thoughts,
hovering in  the back of my brain; he became the focus of my
existence. Like a  lodestar he dictated my movements as I traveled
in his wake.

Or, in moments like this, he's the center of my personal orbit, my 
satellite to his bright sun.

With a mental shake at my distraction I deliberately returned my 
attention to Gleesa, the Oolian Prime Minister and our host. After
all, her  people have given us a very good price for their
dilithium. It had  already been delivered to the shuttle Tom and I
brought down to the planet  through the once-a-day atmospheric
window.

The Oolians were also articulate and intelligent, with only a single 
flaw. They lived to three centuries, so they tended to look down
their  rather vulpine noses at species whose lifespans weren't
nearly as long.  They spent the day calling Tom "youngster". It was
reflex with them I  think, but that didn't make it any easier to
hear. I already knew about  the age difference between Tom and
myself, and I could have done without  the reminder.

But diplomatic duty doesn't end until you're safely behind locked 
doors---on your own ship. So I made an effort at genuine interest in
the  planet's culture, producing some vague comment about the room's 
tapestries. Which inspired Gleesa to launch into a lecture on Oolian
weaving. It  was interesting, but lost hands down to thoughts of my
golden dream  man.

When I returned to my contemplation of Tom, I nearly snorted in 
disbelief at my subtle prevarication. The images I used suggest a
calm and  stately pursuit or pleasant journey together. I am not
calm. Far from it.  Like the old song, I am bewitched, bothered and
bewildered.

Much more profoundly than my brief attraction during our first
meeting,  this love for another man---for Tom Paris---has shaken me
from my  moorings, the foundation upon which I built the life I knew
before. My very  identity has been thrown into doubt, sending my
emotions into chaos.

I don't understand my own feelings. Why this particular blond out of 
the many I have met makes my spirits lift, my heart beat faster and 
breath falter. Why he alone inspires dreams of sweet romance and
vivid  sexuality.

And hopes for a relationship that is unlikely at best. The
differences  in our ages, ranks, temperaments, and upbringings are
obstacles enough.  More daunting is our history, and the fact that I
have no idea how Tom  regards me. If, indeed, he ever thinks of me
at all as a potential  partner. Though he no longer sleeps around,
and *didn't* get involved with  B'Elanna, that's no reason to assume
he'd be interested in a man. A  dark-haired man. A dark-haired man
with a tattoo.

For me, it doesn't seem to matter that there was a time I didn't
trust  Tom, that in years past I despised him. That when he really
makes the  effort he can still annoy me more than any ten people put
together. None  of that changes my yearnings. I love him. It is both
a joy and a  torment. And, it seems, a permanent condition.

I was mistaken. Tom isn't a lodestar, guiding my path. He is a 
lodestone, a magnet drawing me inevitably to him. I doubt the pull
will ever  ebb, and I have no defenses against it. So I hide these
unsettling  emotions as best I can and continue as his friend. If
Tom ever wants anything  more, from me or with me, he needs to make
the first move.

Gleesa's arm around mine drew my attention, and I quickly reviewed
our  conversation to make sure I haven't missed anything during my 
woolgathering.

I sensed Tom approach us and my own back stiffened at his air of 
agitation. The next few moments had an implacable sense of destiny
about  them.

A waiter with an ornate tray approached us, bearing a single large 
goblet of red liquid. Both Tom and Gleesa reached for it. Tom's
fingers  closed around the stem, but as he lifted it Gleesa's hand
grabbed his and  tried to jerk the glass her way.

The contents of the goblet flew into the air, sloshed out by their 
violent motions. I couldn't dodge the rain of liquid that splashed
full  into my face. A good bit landed in my mouth as I had opened it
to protest  Tom's actions, and I automatically swallowed the
floral-tasting  substance. I could feel the rest coating the skin of
my face. My mouth opened  again as I stared at Gleesa and Tom,
dumbfounded and drenched.

***************

I couldn't believe it. I've done something I swore I'd never do
again:  humiliated Chakotay. At least this time it's in front of a
bunch of  strangers.

It's been years since I've deliberately tried to hurt him. But for a 
long time needling Chakotay was my modus operandi when dealing with
the  Mystic Warrior. It was the only way I could protect myself. And
no doubt  about it, I was and still am extremely vulnerable to his
serene  strength and smoldering sensuality.

My defenses kicked in the first moment I saw him. I was in that
shitty  bar I used as a home base in those depressing days between
Starfleet  and the Maquis. My nerves were twanging with tension as I
waited for a  contact to arrive with a rebel captain seeking a
pilot. I needed to fly  so badly I didn't care who the hell I did it
for.

Every thought in my head disappeared the second Chakotay came into 
view. My breath also whooshed from my lungs and my blood rushed to
take up  residence in my cock.

He moved with an alert, smooth power, striding to the other side of
the  booth to slide onto the bench across from me. He
was...magnificent. All  animal grace and magnetism wrapped in sleek
leather. The man's tribal  heritage was evident, even without the
striking tattoo decorating a face  of masculine beauty that would
have inspired legends and songs in  ancient times. His dark brown
eyes were an irresistible draw. I could sense  their passion and
command, and I was instantly afraid of what that  fiery gaze would
demand of me.

I had spent months burying my feelings, allowing myself only the
most  base and meaningless fucks as personal contact. Sex was
oblivion for me,  an outlet I knew I needed. I feared losing it,
because I sensed  stronger and more insidious addictions waiting in
the shadows. I could *not*  want someone this much and survive.

Desire, hunger, and deeper emotions urged me to reach out to
Chakotay.  But I instinctively knew that if I were ever encircled by
those  powerful bronze arms I would never want to leave their
embrace. That my  solitary journey would end when I laid my head on
Chakotay's shoulder, and  slept listening to the beat of his heart.
That profound, knee-weakening  truth combined with the spark of my
reawakening soul and sent me into a  panic. I was not ready for
this, capable of handling this. I reacted as  I always did, by
covering up my emotions with a cynical mask.

I wrenched my gaze from Chakotay's face as the introductions began. 
When it was my turn to speak I was aggressively annoying. I figured
if I  could get my new obsession angry, he would never become
interested in me  and I would never be at risk of losing myself to
him. Because I would  yield the moment he asked it, immediately and
absolutely. And I wanted  to surrender far too much to ever permit
the opportunity.

I'm lucky I survived that first encounter. I deliberately insulted 
Chakotay, his people, the Maquis, anything and anyone I could think
of. I  was rather impressed that he didn't pop me one, and even
managed to do a  respectable job of bargaining for my piloting
skills, albeit through  gritted teeth.

Those few weeks in the Maquis were a tension-filled walk along the 
razor's edge. I was drawn to Chakotay and at the same time repelled
by my  fear of his allure. It didn't help that the Big Man led with
a charm and  charisma that fairly oozed from every pore. I don't
think Captain  Janeway realizes how much he's toned down his
personality in order to keep  the spotlight on her as Voyager's
representative. Back then, even in the  middle of a desperate
struggle for survival, he had people hanging on  his every look and
word. Including me.

It was almost a relief to be caught by the Federation on my first 
mission for the Maquis. Out of sight, out of mind, I told myself as
I toiled  under Auckland's sun in the penal colony. Thus I relegated
memories of  Chakotay to the realm of steamy dreams.

Then Voyager reunited us. Absence *does* make the heart grow fonder.
It  did mine, at least. I felt compelled toward Chakotay more
powerfully  than before. But there was no way I could trust myself,
much less my  heart, into his keeping. He considered me a traitor
twice over. So my  increased feelings of vulnerability translated
into even greater efforts to  keep him at more than arm's length.

Again I skated along a very fine line, this time skirting the 
boundaries of insubordination. Perversely, his patience with me made
me want to  goad him even more. It would take days or weeks of
subtle digs and  insults, but eventually Chakotay would retaliate.
His scorn was hard to  bear, but I hid my pain as well as I did my
need for him. And I kept  provoking him. I knew I was crazy. Or more
likely I was just crazy about  him, and still terrified of the
implications of loving my enemy.

At first I considered the Captain's secret orders to help find the
spy  my golden opportunity. I could taunt Chakotay as much as I
wanted with  her blessing. I probably went too far, but it was all
for the ship. Or  so I told myself.

I started to feel bad about my actions when Chakotay reacted as well
as  he did. He was so damned worried about me. Willing to set aside
all of  our previous disagreements to find a way to help. I felt
like a heel,  but couldn't ruin the Captain's plan. In typical
Flyboy fashion I  started resenting Chakotay for being so nice,
making me behave even worse  towards him.

When I was back on Voyager and appearing on Neelix's show, I knew I 
should have sewn my mouth shut before I let all that flippancy loose
on  the universe. On Chakotay. The Commander had been pretty scarce
since he  figured out just how he'd been duped. I realized my
sarcastic dismissal  of him was probably the worst thing I could
have done. Adding insult to  injury, etc., etc. The second Neelix
stopped his broadcast I decided to  get Chakotay one on one for a
real apology.

I never got the chance. The next time we met, Chakotay stiltedly 
thanked me for my public statement. *Thanked me*. For humiliating
him in  front of the whole crew, right after the Captain's excluding
him from the  plan had ripped the ground out from under him.
Crumbled his trust in  others and faith in himself. I vowed at that
moment never to cause  Chakotay any kind of pain again.

Of course, he couldn't know my sudden good intentions, only my
uncaring  actions. It was so painful to see all the earlier concern
in the depths  of Chakotay's brown eyes shift to contempt. But even
more agonizing was  the underlying hurt and resignation that dulled
his usually bright  gaze.

I'd been prepared for Chakotay to hate me after the deception, but
his  reaction was so much worse. He became indifferent to my
existence. Not  just personally, but on duty as well. I realized
that he'd lowered his  expectations of me to the point where as long
as I did my job he  ignored me completely.

The shock of his uninterest woke something in me. I suddenly wanted
to  earn Chakotay's respect, to be deserving of his attention once
more.  While I didn't become a model officer overnight, I gave it my
best shot.  And surprisingly enough, I began to respect myself a bit
more as well.  I stopped playing the field; I was better than
meaningless one-night  stands. Mere physical release was no longer
that appealing.

Chakotay warmed up to me, gradually. And somehow our low-key slide
into  friendship didn't trigger my panic. I was still incredibly
attracted to  my tattooed obsession, but I was able to keep that
safely under wraps  and keep our budding buddyhood on track.

Then I ran smack into B'Elanna's attraction for *me*. Or at least,
her  deathbed or whatever confession of love. It knocked the wind
right out  of me. I'd been so fixated on Chakotay I never even
noticed her  feelings changed. I didn't know what to think. Or to
do.

I suppose I could have tried talking to Harry. After all, he *is* my 
best friend. But in all honesty, I didn't think he'd lived enough to
have  the perspective I needed. So I went to Chakotay.

It's ironic. Before I started talking to him I had almost convinced 
myself it would be a good idea to get involved with B'Elanna. For
all her  temper, prickliness and insecurity, she was safe. She
didn't make my  palms sweat with nervousness or invade my dreams.
She didn't make me  yearn for her and burn for her when solitary
late-night honesty lowered my  guard.

But though she was safe, she could never truly touch me. Not in my 
heart or soul, where I needed to feel a connection. She was unable
to  access the places where Chakotay had already slipped under my
defenses and  taken up residence when I wasn't noticing.

Chakotay is a man of honor, fierce passion and deep emotion. If my
life  were ever joined with his, I hoped I would be safe and
cherished,  desired and needed and loved. The way I wanted to make
him feel.

But Chakotay is also strong-willed and decisive. I wasn't sure how
much  those qualities would carry over into his personal life. If I
would be  getting a dictator as well as a lover. That possibility
was what held  me back all this time.

But in the end, I was happier with my uncertainty about Chakotay
than  with the surety of a lackluster relationship with B'Elanna. So
I  rejected her as delicately and sincerely as I could. It was such
a relief when  she took my brush-off so well. Apparently her words
were pretty much a  slip of the tongue brought on by the fear of
imminent death. Not the  most ego-inflating moment in my life. She
loved me, yes, but really as a  friend. We went back to normal
pretty quickly after that.

And I started to seriously consider courting Chakotay. In the last
few  months I'd seen more of the real man, warm and funny and not
nearly so  stoic as he tries to appear. He's been more open, and I
was thrilled to  learn some of his own background and history.

I just wished I could be sure *why* he's been so...trusting...of me. 
Whether this is just quid pro quo for my gut-spilling during our 
counseling sessions, an effort to move our friendship to a deeper
level, or,  just maybe, an invitation to something more.

I knew which one I wanted, and I wanted the chance for that future 
enough to interfere right now with what I was *sure* was an imminent 
come-on from that Oolian PM. The hairs on the back of my neck rose
in warning  the second I saw a suspicious glass heading Chakotay's
way. I planned  to get to it before that alien would-be seductress
could.

Unfortunately, my clumsiness and her persistence have resulted in
yet  another embarrassing moment for Chakotay, this one completely 
unintentional. My fervent, silent pleas for him not to be mad at me
were  interrupted by shock as I stared at a staring Commander.

The liquid on his face wasn't dripping as it should. Instead, the
red  stuff was disappearing, sinking into his skin. That's when I
noticed the  silence all around us. Everyone seemed frozen in
anticipation. Or  horror.

Then the chief Oolian---Gleesa?---seemed to snap out of it with a
gasp  of fear. "Oh no!" she breathed as her eyes and nostrils and
mouth  flared wide. Then she whirled and began barking orders.
"Prepare the Blue  Room for immediate occupation!" She turned to a
plump, middle-aged  female. "Dr. Koor, will my contraceptives work
with a human male? Do I need  any special instructions for
copulation with this species?"

"What?!" both Chakotay and I said together. We shared a brief look; 
frowning sable brows ordered my immediate apology. "Prime Minister 
Gleesa," I began, "I am so sorry for this accident, but
respectfully, what the  hell does a spilled drink have to do with
contraception and a *human*  male?"

An annoyed grunt beside me warned that I'd be paying for my colorful 
inquiry later, but damn it, I needed to know. Gleesa was trying to
sling  an arm around Chakotay's waist, and I was fighting the urge
to fling  her across the room.

Gleesa looked down her too-long nose at me. Typical. "Well, 
*youngster*, as you've just seen, your Commander has been doused
with a rare  Oolian concoction. I'm preparing to alleviate the
effects of exposure."

"Just what *are* the effects?" Chakotay found his voice again. "And 
what exactly was in that cup?"

Gleesa shifted her attention to him completely as I silently fumed.

"The goblet and the substance inside are called the Lovers' Cup. It 
serves a very specific purpose in Oolian culture." Here the woman
colored  slightly. "The blend of herbs has an effect on sexuality.
The potion  lowers inhibitions, increases desire and ensures
potency. I was planning  to offer to share it with you."

I could feel a bellow of outrage building. The only thing that held
it  back was the stunned expression on Chakotay's face and the
worried one  on Gleesa's.

Chakotay's high cheekbones were warmed by a flush of embarrassment
as  he cleared his throat and said, "Your offer is very generous,
Madam, and  I ask you not to take my refusal as a personal affront.
But I think it  would be better if I simply...endured the discomfort
in privacy. So if  you could lead the way...?"

I shifted closer to Chakotay's side, determined *not* to be sent
alone  to the shuttle like a good little lieutenant. Gleesa,
however, wasn't  budging.

"I'm afraid that isn't an option, Commander Chakotay. You've
absorbed  twice the usual amount---through no fault of your own,"
she was quick to  point out as she glared at me. "That is not a
common occurrence, but we  do know what to expect. Unfortunately,
overdose can be a fatal  condition. If you do not have intercourse
soon, your body will overheat,  sending you into a coma and quite
possibly, death."

A quick intake of breath beside me was the only sign Chakotay had 
heard. I felt dizzy as I considered the unintended consequences of
my  unfortunate accident. Chakotay had to fuck, or die. And I
couldn't let him go  off into the manicured hands of some alien
female.

It's true that I was still afraid of getting involved with Chakotay.
Of  becoming addicted to his touch, of losing my very soul to the
man. But  there was no way I was going to let anyone else share his
bed. His life  was *mine*. Mine to save. It was time I reminded him
of that. And  informed her fox-faced Prime Ministerness. But before
I could open my mouth,  Gleesa was speaking again.

"So what was to be an offer, an opportunity for you, Chakotay, is
now a  necessity. Of course, I volunteer to---"

"No," I interrupted, my voice certain. "We can't take the risk." I 
softened my glare but conceded nothing. "We have very strict
protocols  involving interspecies relations. Our doctor needs to
analyze the contact,  down to the biomolecular effects. There have
been near-disasters in the  past when members of our crew ignored
the rules." I gestured to the  exit. "Now, if you'd show us to the
Blue Room?" Chakotay was looking at me  strangely but remained
silent. I wondered if the stuff was already  taking effect.

Gleesa spun on her heel and led us out. But she refused to give up
the  battle, grabbing one of Chakotay's arms even as I closed my
hands  around the other. I could just picture us having a
tug-of-war, with Chakotay  as both the rope and the prize.

The Oolian fumed, "You don't seem to understand, Lieutenant. Your 
superior has consumed a massive amount of a potent aphrodisiac." Her
voice  sank to an urgent whisper. "If he doesn't penetrate and
ejaculate within  another body, he's dead."

We reached a set of open doors and paused. "Yeah, I got it. 'Fuck or 
die'," I assured her. "Only difference between my plan and yours is, 
Chakotay's going to fuck *me*."

Chakotay peered at me another moment, gauging my sincerity. Or
perhaps  my sanity. Whatever he saw in my expression must have
convinced him,  because he turned to Gleesa and lifted her hand.
Laying a kiss on the  back of it he said, "Thank you again, Madam,
for volunteering your  services. But I believe the lieutenant has
things well in hand."

With that, he left us both staring after him as he sauntered into
the  room. A few steps past the threshold he looked over his
shoulder and  cocked an eyebrow at me. "Coming, Tom?" he purred.
Purred!?!

"Not yet," I muttered as I slid into the room and closed the door on 
Gleesa's shocked face. I set the locks and wondered what the hell
would  happen next.

***************

I watched Tom lean his forehead against the door a moment, probably 
contemplating escape. My eyes traveled up the lines of his uniform,
along  his slender legs, lingering on the taut curves of his ass
outlined in  black. Then I continued my visual journey, tracing the
expanding column  of his torso past his ribs and shoulders. The
exposed nape of his neck  beckoned me, but I was more interested in
his hair.

Tom was still a blond, but not the same one whose sun-spun locks 
tempted me all those years ago. His hair was darker now, the shade
recalling  Dorvan fields of wheat waving in the breeze. The cut was
different,  too, closer-cropped, more...serious, more mature. It
well reflected the  transformation of the man himself.

And in a way, the changes in me, that shifted Tom from a body to be 
briefly lusted after to a person---body, heart, mind, spirit---whom
I will  probably love for life.

Then my blond beauty turned and I felt an overwhelming urge to
pounce.  To leap across the small space separating us, grab Tom's
hands in one  of mine and keep him pressed against the door as I
ripped the clothes  from his body, the shreds fluttering to the
floor.

I could feel the heat uncoiling in my belly and tingling along my
limbs  as I shifted into the stance of a predator, ready to spring
and seize  my prey.

The nervous twitch of Tom's long pale fingers stopped me.

Since I began to look at Tom through the eyes of a would-be lover,
for  months I've enjoyed simply watching him. The lightness of his 
movements, the sparkle of his eyes, his infectious grin.

And especially, the expressiveness of his hands. The tapering
lengths  of his fingers move with such assurance, whether dancing
over Voyager's  Conn or flicking out to punctuate a comment or
emphasize a concern.  Always, they speak with silent eloquence.

Right now they were beating a sharp message of terror, or at least 
anxiety, against the door. I shifted my gaze to confirm my
suspicions. The  slight heave of Tom's chest, his nervous swallows
were further evidence  of unease. They belied the carefree grin and
darkening eyes.

I took a deep breath and relaxed. The aphrodisiac was behind this
drive  to ravish, to take. That's not what *I* wanted. This was my
first time  with a male partner---a very special one. This should be
an experience  to savor, and Tom someone to appreciate. To cherish.
To love.

I decided I'd better keep my hands to myself until I could calm down
a  little. I made my way to a chair and sat to slip off my boots and 
socks. As I stood to unfasten my jacket I felt Tom's eyes on me.

In the charged silence I removed my jacket, turtleneck and trousers.
I  looked up to see that Tom had collapsed against the door,
staring. My  lodestone, my magnet, stood there, wordlessly summoning
me. His hands  were still, spread against the door. Waiting.

I couldn't resist the pull any longer. First I stretched, long and 
leisurely, letting all the tension slide away into anticipation. I
enjoyed  the slither of silk against my skin as I walked over to
Tom.

***************

Shit, Oh Shit, was my mantra as I tried to melt into the door.

Earlier when I was turned to face the wood I could *feel* Chakotay's 
eyes on me, traveling up my body, lingering on my ass and oddly
enough,  my hair. I finally managed to move, flopping against the
panels as I  turned myself over.

I was immediately pinned by eyes that had heated and dilated with 
burgeoning desire. They glittered in a face that was more sharply
drawn then  usual, as if the aphrodisiac had somehow honed
Chakotay's edges. Made  him obviously dangerous, not the subtle
threat I'd gotten used to over  the years.

Locked in a room with him, I was overwhelmed by his aura. Chakotay
was  just so damn *male*. I felt powerless before six feet of
well-built  testosterone, surveying me like everything he saw was
his for the taking.

I was barely able to hold back a whimper as Chakotay coiled himself
to  spring. Fear---no, a mix of anxiety and eagerness---set my limbs 
shaking and fingers restlessly drumming against the surface beneath
my hands.  I hoped Gleesa wasn't still on the other side. I tried to
grin, no big  deal, just a casual fuck between friends, you know,
but the expression  felt frozen on my face.

Then Chakotay seemed to find some wellspring of calm within himself.
He  moved away to sit, and I began to relax.

Of course, I tensed up again immediately when I saw he was
undressing.  I was mesmerized. I couldn't tear my eyes away as I
watched him remove  garment after garment, exposing sleek
golden-brown limbs.

My mouth went dry as I realized he was wearing black silk boxers and 
tank top under his uniform. The fabric suited him, sensually
caressing  his form, shimmering against his skin. He stretched, and
I nearly moaned  in appreciation of the muscles pulling and
releasing before my eyes.

Then Chakotay was languidly approaching me, the sway of his hips
more  animal glide than human stroll. I felt like a rabbit trapped
before a  stalking panther. Hungry eyes traveled all over me,
mapping their  territory. My pulse beat fast in my throat, my breath
shuddered through me.  There was nowhere to run, even if I wanted
to.

I could feel the rising heat of Chakotay's body as he drew close.
The  scent of him was tantalizing. I was surprised when Chakotay
didn't grab  me. Instead he pressed his hands to the door on either
side of my head  and leaned in until there were only millimeters
between us.

Then those full lips brushed against mine in the most delicate of 
caresses. Once, twice, thrice. Their soft touches wandered along my
cheek,  across my forehead and down to bestow butterfly kisses
against my  eyelids. A skin-tinglingly slow journey lowered them to
my jaw and neck,  where they were joined by teeth for gentle nips. I
moaned, deep in my  throat.

Chakotay leaned back and gave me a smile full of seductive charm.
One  dimple flashed, then faded as half-closed brown eyes observed
my flushed  cheeks and trembling limbs. Then his knowing gaze lazily
wandered down  to focus on the erection smashed against the seam of
my pants.

When a tonguetip peeked out for a quick swipe along the curves of
that  lush mouth I nearly groaned again. My silence was no cover,
though. It  was clear Chakotay recognized my surrender.

I was surprised when his eyes released their hold. Chakotay sank to
his  knees in front of me, his warm grip surrounding my ankles one
at a time  to lift each leg and remove my footwear. When he stood to
rid me of my  jacket my eyes were drawn to his hands.

I have always admired them, their tawny strength and sure grace.
People  say I have artist's hands, but artist's model's may be more
accurate.  They're pretty, and that catches the eye. But Chakotay's
hands are true  works of art. Those broad palms and well-formed
fingers can build, and  carve, and tend. Nurture, and protect, and
create. They are the hands  of a craftsman, a student of not only
the martial and decorative arts,  but also the more practical ones
that go into establishing a home.

Not to say my own hands are idle, or useless. But I often wish I had 
Chakotay's ability to create beauty that lasts beyond our own
lifetimes.

And now those hands would be on me. As I've both yearned and dreaded 
for years. The golden-brown fingers slid along the seams of my
clothing,  black and gray, making the garments smoothly disappear.

All too soon I was left with tank and shorts, same as my silent 
companion. I couldn't decide if my stomach was swirling with
anticipation, or  trepidation. I watched those hands drift
inexorably toward me again,  but then they retreated and clenched
into fists.

"Tom?" Chakotay's voice was hoarse, but concerned. I looked into his 
dilated eyes and I could see him struggling to maintain his control. 
Sweat made his skin gleam in the room's light. I knew Chakotay
needed sex.  Needed me. And yet he hesitated. He rasped, "Are you
sure you want to  do this, Tom?"

Chakotay shifted closer to me, and laid a gentle palm against my
face.  Its heat was a brand on my cheek, but the gravity of those
dark eyes  held my attention as his soft voice continued. "I've
never done this  before. I'll do my best not to hurt you. But that's
all I can promise,  Poocuh."

I swallowed again, squared my shoulders, and firmed my jaw. I knew 
Chakotay well enough to be sure he wasn't going to make another move
until  I gave him some kind of sign I understood what he was saying.
That I  was willing to take the risk.

There's no hesitation in me now, no skittish deliberations. I wanted 
Chakotay more than anyone, anything, in my life. It was time to
convince  him of that, to shift from prey to partner.

I closed the tiny gap between us, lifting my hands to shape the
broad  shoulders, to slide along a powerful chest covered in hot
black silk. I  pressed my mouth to Chakotay's, opening my lips and
using my tongue to  encourage him to do the same.

At my wordless reassurance he cupped the back of my head in one
hand.  With a sound like a growl he moved into the kiss and
demonstrated just  how talented one man's tongue can be. The
sensations he sparked as he  slid along my palate and gums had me
moaning in zoned-out bliss. He  twined his tongue with mine for a
few playful games of tag, then settled  down to the business of
melting my brain with even more passionate kisses.

His other hand snaked down my back, drawing me away from the door.
We  pressed close together, erections teasing each other through
layers of  cloth.

I lifted my head, seared by the heat of Chakotay's gaze. I wet my 
swollen lips and said, "Cha, take me to bed."

***************

That request added fuel to the need burning steadily within me. I 
searched Tom's eyes a moment. Yes, he was willing. That's all I
needed to  know.

I felt as though my desires had been straining at the leash of my 
control for far too long. His words loosed the restraint. In two
heartbeats  I'd stripped Tom of his underclothes and casually tossed
his long body  over one shoulder.

I could hear him sputtering as I swiftly strode across the room to
dump  him on his back on the bed. The royal blue of the coverlet
turned his  body into a gilded work of art, a naked Renaissance
angel against a sky  at the edge of night.

Tom is only an inch or two taller than me, but he is built along
very  different lines. Lean and sinewy, his muscles elegantly
adorned long  bones. I was fascinated by the way the room's light
sparkled and winked  against the gold hairs decorating his runner's
body.

Forearms and chest, shins and thighs, belly and balls, each sported
a  different texture of bright filaments. I settled onto the bed
beside my  soon-to-be lover and used one hand to circle a slender
ankle. I  traveled up his left leg, pushing against the tiny strands
tickling the  lengths of my fingers.

I squeezed the smooth cap of Tom's knee, then continued my journey, 
stroking the surface of one thigh up to where it flowed into the
slight  curve of his hip.

A moan drew my focus higher to see the flash of teeth as Tom gripped 
his bottom lip. His eyes were closed. I heard a sound of agreement
rise  from my own chest as I shifted to kneel closer beside him. I
was  intrigued by the sight of a long penis rising from a thicket of
darker,  crisper curls. But I continued to explore the rest of my
blond's body.

I raised one of his hands to my mouth, licking at the thin inner
skin  of the wrist, gently biting the base of his palm, sucking his
fingers.  Each time Tom groaned in response I felt an answering
rumble run through  my own body.

I kept his left hand in mine as I ran the other along his arm to
caress  his shoulder. Then I moved the pale limb aside so I could
rub my  silk-clad chest against his naked one.

It was a strange sensation, the tiny hairs prickling me through the 
cloth. I was surprised when Tom's legs parted to make space for me.
I  settled my body fully over his, slowly grinding, feeling his
small nipples  harden as I brushed against them. I sensed the precum
from my cock and  his dampening my boxers. It was time to get rid of
them. I slid off  Tom, taking my time, then swiftly removed my
clothes and tossed them away.

"Lube," Tom said, startling me. I tilted my head a moment as I 
contemplated him. I could feel my smile curl slowly as I once more
enjoyed  Tom's allure, the way the sight of him tugged at my senses
and heart.

Then I turned away and rummaged in a nightstand drawer. Pulling out
a  small vial, I uncapped it and sniffed. A pleasant, light citrus
scent  greeted me. I tested the consistency of the liquid. It was
oily, gleaming  against the tips of my fingers. Perfect.

***************

I still hadn't moved far beyond my mental refrain of Shit, Oh Shit,
and  moaning. Chakotay hadn't been giving me much time to think,
teasing me  with his hot hands against my skin. I wanted his solid
weight back,  pressing me into the bed. I needed more, his
nakedness, his mouth on me,  his cock inside me.

I saw Chakotay flow across the mattress as he returned to my side,
vial  in hand. I was actually kind of impressed with myself. I
wasn't sure  I'd be able to get that single syllable coherently out
of my mouth after  I discovered what's been hiding under that
uniform all these years.

Chakotay's body is all bronze satin, smooth skin covering muscles
that  made my fingers itch to trace their curving lines. He's
completely  hairless, except for a few soft-looking strands of black
highlighting his  ballsac, a background for his dusky cock. A
mouth-watering length and  weight jutting proudly between his strong
thighs.

He was still purring---low throaty sounds like a contented
panther---as  he set the recapped bottle on the spread and stretched
himself out  beside me. I turned on my side as well to face him and
slung my top leg  over his hip. My right hand sank into his straight
dark hair, bringing his  mouth back to mine.

Chakotay came willingly, sliding our bodies together in a sweet,
slick  friction as cock met cock. My nipples were tight and
tingling; I rubbed  them against his smooth, sweaty chest, earning
me a growl. Chakotay  captured my lower lip between his teeth. He
lightly chewed and licked,  making me moan again and press my hips
into his.

Then he moved along my throat, sucking one mouthful after another.
The  sensation was incredible and I arched my neck, wanting him to
keep  going all the way down my body.

Instead he chuckled and detoured along my collarbone, making sure
his  tongue bathed every millimeter. Then Chakotay shifted and
surprised me  by rubbing his face in my chest hair. He was purring
again, and the  vibrations set my skin tingling once more. I was
whimpering by the time he  settled his lips against my right nipple
for a thorough suckling.

He teased it to a hard point, then nibbled. A stinging bite was 
followed by a cool breath, then a hot one. I could feel the nub
throbbing for  more as Chakotay slid way too slowly to the other one
to give it a  similar treatment.

My hands caressed along Chakotay's shoulders and up his throat to
clasp  his head and bring him back up to me. The heat of his skin
was worrying  me. When I was looking into his flushed face I said,
"You've got to  prepare me, Cha. We can't wait any longer."

I was surprised to see worry in those smoldering brown eyes. His
left  hand wandered down to walk the cleft of my ass, circling the
opening to  my body. He pressed a fingertip against it and said,
"It's so small,  Tom. Too small."

Warmth blossomed in my chest at Chakotay's concern. "No, we'll fit.
You  know we will." I picked up the tiny vial and uncapped it. I
drew his  hand up and coated his fingers. Then I gripped his wrist
and brought it  back down. "Do it," I murmured.

I felt him breach me with one finger, gently sliding into my body.
The  concentration in his expression was endearing, the brows drawn 
together, his lip clenched between his teeth as he tried to be
careful. I  didn't want careful. I thrust my hips down to his gasp
of surprise and my  groan of satisfaction.

He froze a moment, then relaxed, beginning to explore. I felt his
hand  shifting against the tight sphincter. After a few minutes he
tried two  fingers, stretching me, and we were both purring in
approval. His other  arm was wrapped around my neck, holding me
close, stroking my shoulders  and back.

Chakotay continued to open me as he leaned in to tease my throat
with  his mouth once more. His fingers found my gland and I
stiffened with a  shout, my cock leaping with the extra stimulation.

A rumbling chuckle sounded in my ear as Chakotay explored the rim
with  his lips and tongue. I decided he wasn't the only tease in
this bed.

Grabbing the oil, I coated my own palm and firmly gripped his
erection,  exploring the glans and shaft. The heat of it startled
me, even though  we were pressed skin to skin and I knew how high
his temperature had  risen.

Chakotay growled his appreciation and melted into my caresses. He 
shifted his hips, sliding further into my slippery grip, thrusting
his  fingers inside me in time with my movements on him.

Both of us were breathing heavily as he slid out and away. I shifted
to  my back and spread my thighs.

***************

Spirits, I *burned* as I moved into the vee of Tom's body and looked 
down at the offering before me. Tom's legs were flung wide, his
throat  bared, his chest rising and falling with his labored
breaths.

I locked eyes with Tom as I gripped his hip with one hand and spread 
his buttocks with the other. My cock was dripping, eager. I was so 
desperate for this, the plunge into his pale, glistening body. I
pushed into  him and froze, feeling the muscles clamp down on the
head of my cock  like a vise of velvet.

After a moment or two I breathed and continued to sink into the
smooth  channel until my balls nudged Tom's ass. I shifted my hands
to his  thighs, wrapping them around my waist as I moved forward.

The thread that had stretched between us for months was no more.
There  was no space for it to span. We were pressed belly to belly,
chest to  chest. I slid my arms under Tom's back and shoulders,
cradling his head.  I leaned down and kissed him as gently as I
could. I drew back, staring  into wide blue eyes.

***************

I had expected to see the face of a conqueror, a smirk of triumph or 
knowing grin. The softness of Chakotay's expression set me
trembling,  just as he was but for a different reason. I was afraid,
but not of this  moment. Of the future. I knew I never wanted to be
anywhere else but in  Chakotay's arms, staring into his eyes,
sharing our bodies. I wondered  whether he felt the same thing I
did, that somehow we were touching  souls as well as skin.

But now was not the time. Chakotay was still holding back, waiting
for  me to get used to his bulk. The shivering of his flesh, the
shuddering  of his limbs were the last ragged edges of his control
ready to give  way.

I wrapped my legs around my lover's back and lifted my hips, giving
him  permission. He took charge, and took me.

His mouth covered mine, his wicked tongue returning to plunge down
my  throat even as his cock began to piston inside me. His movements
were  strong and sure as he drew out almost completely, then
returned, pushing  hard against my gland with each stroke.

I went crazy with the jolts of pure pleasure shooting through me,
over  and over. I ripped my mouth from his, shouting and slamming my
pelvis  up to meet his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as
the  pressure built in me, an irresistible, impossible tension
drawing me taut in  Chakotay's embrace.

This heat, this desire, it wouldn't last long. It couldn't. I always 
knew it: I couldn't want---need---Chakotay this much and survive.

Then I felt Chakotay's fingers fumbling their way around my cock. I 
opened my eyes to find a fiery brown gaze boring into me. Toppling
my  defenses, blasting through the walls I'd erected years ago.
Finding my  heart and soul. Claiming them.

As he fisted my aching penis, moving in time with his thrusts into
my  ass, I screamed and arched, cum shooting out of me as the
explosion of  sensation tossed me over the edge. I was writhing,
shaking, out of my  head with the feelings of completion and
release.

***************

The sight of Tom shrieking and pulsing in orgasm branded itself on
my  brain. The squeeze of the muscles surrounding my cock was too
great to  resist. I roared and plunged my hips forward again and
again, wanting to  leave my seed, my essence, my mark in and on this
man forever.

I could feel the coolness of the fever breaking as I slumped forward
on  my elbows a moment, my lungs heaving and limbs weak in the
aftermath of  the most profound sex of my life. I had to get off Tom
or I'd crush him  when my arms collapsed.

***************

I felt Chakotay very delicately pull out of me and slump on the bed
at  my side. I had to smile as after a moment he lifted me and
himself  enough to pull out the covers and slide us underneath. Then
he turned me  onto my side and spooned behind me, wrapping a solid
arm around my torso.

The warmth---not fevered heat---of his skin made me sag in relief,
and  I heard a drowsy voice in my ear whisper, "Thank you, Poocuh."
Then a  quick kiss against my neck and Chakotay's even breaths
behind me as he  fell asleep.

I clasped my hands around a smooth bronze forearm and followed, the 
smile still on my lips.

************************************************************

Thirst woke me with a start and a weight on my body surprised me. I 
realized Tom and I had shifted in our sleep. He was now sprawled on
top of  me, his head on my shoulder and one arm reaching across my
midriff to  clutch my side.

For a few moments I indulged in the feeling of rightness. Of having
Tom  close to me, of the peace I felt with him in my arms. My
fingers of  their own accord ghosted through his hair a moment,
along his cheek and  across his broad shoulders.

Then with a reluctant sigh I extricated myself from the bed and went
to  get a drink.

I made sure the water was cold, both the liquid I swallowed and the 
amount I splashed on my face. I needed the jolt.

I had to wake up to the reality that I wanted---needed---Tom in my
bed  and my life. Permanently. All of my concerns, my questions, my 
uncertainties were gone. I knew who I was. I was the man who loved
Tom Paris.  Desperately.

That golden thread, the pull that had existed between us for months
was  now almost unbearable. It throbbed through me with every
heartbeat,  this urge to stake a claim, to bind this man to my side
forever. Either  that or die, consumed by this love. Spirits, it
seemed I had lost all  reason along with my heart and soul.

I ran a shaking hand down my face. As I pulled it away I realized
that  the tremors were from more than my emotional upset.

The fever was upon me again. It appeared the Oolian aphrodisiac
hadn't  yet finished its work. I ran into the bedroom. There wasn't
much time.

***************

I woke on my back to one set of fingers running through my hair and 
their oiled counterparts sliding into the cleft of my ass. I looked
up  into Chakotay's flushed, tense face.

Dark brown eyes mingled regret and rising desire as Chakotay
gritted,  "I'm sorry, Tom, but that damn drink is driving me...it's
too fast, too  hot..."

He was right. His sweat dripped onto my skin. Chakotay was burning
up;  I knew we didn't have long. "Forget the prep. Just do it,
Chakotay."

I huffed in annoyance as he stubbornly shook his head and stretched
me  for another minute. Then I felt his cock sliding into me,
filling me  like no one else ever had. I groaned in welcome.

When Chakotay was all the way in, he leaned down and pushed his face 
close to mine. His expression was dark and fierce, and the glitter
of his  eyes something primal. He slid out halfway and I swallowed,
waiting for  the harsh slam of his flesh into me.

Instead, Chakotay rolled us so I was suddenly straddling him. He 
growled, "Too much, too close, too dangerous" into my stupefied
silence.

The light went on. He was keeping his promise to not hurt me. I
reached  an arm back and urged Chakotay to raise his knees. Using
his smooth  thighs as a brace, I sank down onto his pelvis, feeling
the silken steel  length of his cock impaling me once more.

I moaned deep in my belly. I'd forgotten how good this was.

Who was I kidding. It had never been *this* good.

I began sliding against my bronze lover, rising and falling above
him  as I braced my hands on his shoulders. It was glorious,
Chakotay's heat  and strength and the softness of his skin against
my back and between  my legs.

After a few moments Chakotay caught my fast rhythm and matched it, 
thrusting up into me as his hands gripped my hips. Our eyes locked
once  more.

Through the rush of blood in my ears I finally realized Chakotay was 
saying something. On each movement into my body he grunted on a
sharp  puff of air, "Mine." His blazing eyes shouted it, demanded I
respond.

And as I had known I would the first time I saw him, I yielded. 
Everything I had been, was or hoped to be became Chakotay's. His
alone.  Forever.

"Yours!" I shouted as I came. My untouched cock sprayed cum over 
Chakotay's smooth chest and belly as he lunged upward, emptying
himself into  me with a roar. Everything went white, then black.

***************

I hadn't realized I was chanting my claim until Tom answered it. 
Acknowledged it. Accepted it. The joy I felt at that moment sent me
spiraling  up and up into climax, my body arching until only my head
and my heels  remained on the mattress.

I hung there forever it seemed, held in the fierce clench of Tom's
body  as his semen splashed onto my skin and mine shot into the
channel  sheathing my cock.

But finally I began a languid descent, landing fully on the
mattress,  feeling the chill of beaded sweat as the fever faded,
hopefully for good  this time.

Tom's unconscious body tilted forward, and I carefully brought him 
down, rolling so we lay facing each other on our sides.

He was beautiful, his blond hair sweaty and mussed, his face at
peace.  I kissed his slack lips, pressed my forehead to his.

"I love you," I whispered, and felt sleep descend.

************************************************************
************************************************************

I woke up, this time on my stomach. I was pretty spread out, and I
had  the sneaking suspicion I'd been searching for Chakotay in my
sleep.

He obviously wasn't here on the bed with me. I rolled over and sat
up  with a grimace as I felt the soreness of muscles I hadn't
strained that  way in years.

The prick of tears threatened and I ruthlessly forced them back. 
Chakotay was under no obligation to wait around as I snored the
morning away.  He didn't even have to clean me up before he beat
feet, but from the  lack of gunk coating me that's apparently what
he did.

I felt my shoulders droop as I rubbed my stinging eyes. What we said 
last night, *did* last night, was all the result of that weird
Oolian  drink. I couldn't force Chakotay into a relationship based
on declarations  made while he was under the influence.

No matter how damn much I wanted him. Needed him. Loved him. Shit.

I was startled from my building funk by the aroma of coffee under my 
nose, the dip of the mattress and a warmth at my side. "Your
timing's  perfect," Chakotay said as he handed me the mug.
"Beverages just arrived,  with Gleesa's compliments and an
invitation to breakfast."

***************

Silence---*awkward* silence---reigned as I smoothed the cloth of my 
boxers and tank top and watched Tom sip his brew. I tried to keep my
eyes  from admiring his naked chest. The rest of him was safely
tucked under  the spread, but I remembered his sleep-softened face,
his unaware smile  as I washed off his body this morning.

Spirits, I didn't know what to do. What do you say to a man whose 
surrender you demanded when you had absolutely no right? I couldn't
figure  out how to begin my apology, much less the admission that I
was fighting  an extremely strong inclination to hold him to it. To
force Tom to  accept me in his life, his bed, his heart. That it
hadn't just been the  aphrodisiac talking.

As he probably believed. As he probably was relieved to believe. I 
mean, as far as I knew he's never given me a second look, certainly
not a  caring or even interested one. I sighed. I loved Tom too much
to do  anything except let him go. To let that thread stretch out
again, no matter  how painful the separation would be.

Sometimes my reputation for nobility really sucked.

Swallowing the huge lump of agony and regret in my throat, I said,
"I  wanted to thank you, Tom, for what you did last night. Saving my
life a  second time."

I flicked my gaze up and watched him set aside his half-emptied mug.
I  stared at his hands as he wrapped them around his drawn-up knees.
I  blinked back the mist in my eyes when I realized I'd probably
never feel  the touch of those slender digits against my skin again.

I cleared my throat and continued, "I...we---we both said some
things,  last night. And---and I just wanted to let you know that
I'm not going  to force you...I mean, it wouldn't be fair...to hold
you to them." I  watched him closely, needing and dreading to see
the relief on Tom's  face.

***************

I remembered that look. The eyes, dark and sad and dull. The stoic 
front hiding immense pain. Chakotay's face appeared the same as it
did that  day after Neelix's broadcast. The moment I vowed never to
hurt him  again.

So why would letting me off the hook cause the same expression? The 
hope that leapt in my gut was almost painful in its intensity. Maybe
it  wasn't just the potion. Maybe he meant what he said. Maybe he
wanted me  last night. Maybe he still did.

This was my moment. My choice. To take the chance and all that I 
thought---prayed---Chakotay was offering. To accept the risks that
came with  it. I took a deep breath and pinned him with my stare.

"What does Poocuh mean?" I asked. I was kind of surprised. That
wasn't  the question I was intending to ask.

I don't think Chakotay was expecting it either. His face paled as he 
gasped, then swallowed. He chewed his lip nervously as his fingers 
pleated the hem of his top.

He looked so upset I backed off. "Listen, it doesn't matter. If it
was  just something that slipped out in the heat of the moment---"

"No," Chakotay interrupted me. His eyes had a hopeful, speculative 
light in them, the rekindling of a flame I now recognized as more
than just  the effect of an alien potion. "No, it wasn't. Or rather,
it's valid in  the heat of passion, but also in the calm of morning
and the stillness  of the night. All the time, anywhere, really."

He gave me a tentative smile and said simply, "Poocuh means
beloved."

I stared silently at Chakotay as I absorbed into my soul that single 
word and all it entailed. I was still a little afraid of what it
meant to  be this man's beloved, but that's what I was. And what I
chose to be.

So, as I always knew I would, I ended my solitary journey, my life 
alone. I opened my arms and embraced Chakotay. My heart sang as I
laid my  head on his shoulder and he wrapped me in his strong arms
and held me  close. "I love you, Cha," I murmured into the side of
his neck.

"I love you too, Tom," he answered me, his voice warm and so very 
tender.

***************

I held my golden dream in my arms, and the feeling was better than 
anything I'd ever imagined. For an achingly sweet time we simply sat 
together.

Then Tom drew back and ran his fingers down my chest, playing with
the  silk. I shivered under his seductive strokes, then captured his
hands  and kissed them. "We don't have time for that if we want to
get back to  Voyager today," I said regretfully.

My blond love's brows quirked as he looked at me. "Okay. I
definitely  want to leave the 'youngster' people behind. But tell
me, what's the  deal with the silk Skivvies?"

I grinned and leaned in to whisper, "I'm a closet hedonist---but
don't  tell anyone."

Suspicious blue eyes narrowed. "Really?"

"Yep," I admitted, "silk underwear, erotic massages, fine wine,
gourmet  food, the whole bit. Even satin sheets." I felt a flush of
desire as my  thumbs stroked his knuckles. "You'll look gorgeous
against them."

Tom suddenly pushed me down on the bed and straddled me. "*You'll*
look  gorgeous against them, as I'm plunging my cock deep into your
fantastic  ass."

I rolled us, grabbing his wrists and holding them on either side of
his  head. I saw a flicker of something deep in Tom's eyes. Fear,
perhaps.  Fear of me?

Or maybe fear I'll go all "Commander" on him in the bedroom. I hope
it  doesn't take him too long to figure out that I want an equal
partner,  that I love him for who he is, feisty and spirited.

Besides, no self-respecting hedonist would turn down the chance to
be  fucked by such a stud.

I grinned down at him, then kissed his nose. "That can be arranged,"
I  told him, and the joy and peace on Tom's face were like a tug on
that  golden thread binding my heart to his. Spirits, how I loved
this man.

"After all, we have the whole day off after filing the mission
report,"  I noted as I released him and moved away to sit on the
edge of the bed.  "Why don't you hit the shower? The sooner we get
out of here, the  faster we can get back to my bed. Or yours." I
considered a moment. "*And*  yours," I amended.

Tom laughed as he bounded off the mattress and headed toward the 
bathroom. "Well it sounds like your libido didn't get any artificial 
stimulation from that aphrodisiac," he teased. He paused in the
doorway, his  expression reflective. "I'll miss the growling though.
Sexiest damn thing  I've ever heard." He disappeared, but a few
moments later water vapor  and whistling floated out to me. Tom
sounded very happy. And probably  looked really sexy, all soapy and
wet.

I could feel my mouth shaping into a grin as I slipped off my
clothes  and gave in to the pull of my blond, man-shaped magnet.

"What makes you think that was the drink?" I purred as I playfully 
stalked my prey through the steam.

THE END