GENTLEMEN'S AGREEMENT

Title: Gentlemen's Agreement, 11/16 
Author: Jaye (Copyright June 2002) 
Codes: C/P NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek, Voyager 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 
reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: An alien royal makes Chakotay an offer he can't refuse.

Note: The instrument featured in this chapter is real and played
like a  clarinet (with the intake at the end, not on top like a
metal flute).  Slightly AU, P/T never happened and I don't know
how canon Chakotay  dresses off duty. Also, Tom's 30, Chakotay
39.

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

PART ELEVEN

/This is hopeless. Absolutely hopeless./ Tom sprawled on the
sofa in  his cabin, one long arm stretched across his eyes. He
almost didn't  recognize the place, it seemed so long since he'd
spent any length of time  there. It even felt odd to be alone.
He didn't particularly want to be  in his quarters now, but it
was only 1900 and he wasn't due to meet  Chakotay until later.

Dinner had not been a rousing success. Harry had pestered him
for  information on the gift, and interrogated him for more
details about  yesterday's encounter with Nedal. Tom suspected
that Harry---or someone less  naive---had noticed there was more
going on than the official reports  revealed. Normally the
wisecracking Lieutenant would have been in his  glory, taunting
Harry with hints, dropping clues that no one would be able  to
unravel.

But not this time. He carefully guarded Chakotay's privacy and
his own.  Harry didn't get a crumb to nibble on, even if he was
Tom's best  friend. The Lieutenant also continued to behave
circumspectly in public,  treating the First Officer with the
bantering blend of respect and  friendship they'd developed
after years of serving together. Somewhere along  the line this
pseudo-relationship had become extremely important to Tom.  Too
important.

That disturbing thought sent the slim body to its feet, to
restlessly  pace the confines of its domain. Golden brows drew
together in  concentration as Tom considered his problem.

Bottom line, he was afraid of Chakotay. In many ways, on a
myriad of  levels. His beautiful, wise, witty, strong, sincere,
sexy Titan was  nothing like the people he usually took to bed.
Despite that, the older man  felt so right in his arms. His
Titan was indeed a creature of fire, and  Tom felt he was
becoming a moth to the many flames revealed in the dark  eyes.
The sparks of amusement and even annoyance, the smoky embers 
waiting to be kindled into desire, the compassion and caring
that reached  out like a hearth fire to wrap Tom in warmth, the
holocaust of passion  that threatened to overwhelm his body and
soul. He sensed that with very  little effort Chakotay could
become the first real love of Tom's life.  The older man had the
potential to become his everything: colleague,  confidant,
buddy, playmate, lover, lifemate, husband---the very center of 
his existence. And that scared the shit out of Tom.

His mental ramblings and physical meanderings had brought the
tall  figure to a table. Slightly wild blue eyes fell upon a
picture there, set  in an antique frame. He lifted the object
and stared at the images, an  impromptu portrait of a perfect
Starfleet family. Tom focused on a  particular face, the lasting
image of the single most influential person in  his life. The
one family member who had shaped his perceptions of love  so
profoundly that they compelled his relationship decisions to
this  day. Miriam Paris. His mother.

One finger stroked over the beautiful blonde's face. Long before
this  particular picture was taken Tom had learned to read those
smiling  cerulean eyes. To see the shadows that lay within their
depths, hidden  behind the façade of satisfied wife. It matched
each Paris child's mask of  happy son or daughter.

Make no mistake, Tom loved the woman dearly. She had filled his 
childhood with light and laughter and maternal affection, giving
his memories  a soft-focus sheen of feeling cherished. But he
couldn't respect her.  Not one single bit. And he was never free
of the fear that he was truly  his mother's son.

Miriam Paris was in love with her husband, Owen. And while she
wasn't  blinded by the emotion, she was weakened by it. The
intelligent, dynamic  woman of strong convictions disappeared
when the Admiral walked in the  door. She became a shadow,
without will or even thought of her own. Not  because she feared
Owen, but because she loved him.

Over the course of Tom's life he had figured out that in
Miriam's mind  and heart love translated to sublimation,
submission, the denial of her  very essence in the need to
please her mate. She tolerated Owen's  multitude of casual
affairs with subordinates at the office. The brittle, 
back-stabbing jocularity of every Starfleet function she
attended as a  glittering trophy on her husband's arm. The
strict dichotomy between the  Admiral's public and private
faces. It was this last discovery that had  driven Tom to avoid
all but the most shallow of romantic ties in his  own life.

When the Paris son was very young, the Admiral was a looming,
but  fairly benevolent presence in his life. He was not the best
of fathers, but  balanced stern lectures on duty and legacy with
games of catch and  spur-of-the-moment shuttle rides. But when
Owen Paris returned from his  torture at Cardassian hands, he
was a changed man. His personality behind  closed doors had lost
all of its leavening, becoming a flat and painful  burden on
those who called him kin.

Tom's father turned into a martinet, critical of anything and 
everything around him. Especially his children, who were never
smart, strong,  dutiful or respectful enough to earn the
slightest praise. His attitudes  and opinions had become harsh
and abrasive to Tom's fragile adolescent  ego.

And Miriam did nothing. Despite the verbal and emotional abuse,
she  never raised her voice or a finger to stop the Admiral's
diatribes. She  even accepted her own tongue-lashings about the
perfect Starfleet  wife---and why she wasn't one. And by her own
words to her confused and  frightened children, she proved that
she kept silent not out of fear, but  love. Love allowed her to
accept the harsh man Owen had become. Love held  her at his side
when anyone else would have walked away, or at least  delivered
an ultimatum that would have put him into counseling. Love 
allowed her to sit idly by while her own offspring struggled to
retain the  smallest amount of self-esteem. Love even enabled
her to turn her back  and deny her only son's very existence
when the great Admiral Owen  Paris declared him dead in the
family's eyes.

Tom clenched the picture frame in a trembling hand as he
breathed, deep  and slow, forcing the emotions back into the
locked drawer in his mind.  Tom knew he shared many things with
his mother: looks, build, coloring,  talent, temperament. And he
also suspected that he shared that innate  vulnerability to
love. It was all too easy to picture himself falling  into the
same slavish pattern of behavior. He was unable to trust himself 
so he could never trust another. The penalty for being wrong was
simply  too high.

So he played with tiny emotions, struck matches of passion that
were  fairly self-contained and quickly extinguished. And if his
ego was  affected by them it was the merest twinge of a singed
fingertip. He did not  want the pain of a grand passion on his
soul, which could leave  scorched-earth scars on his heart and
his hard-won self-reliance in ashes.

For all his footloose and fancy-free exterior Tom was a very
careful  man. He chose partners who could never force him to
feel more than was  comfortable. His lovers were as casual as
himself, ready for a quick fuck  or a short fling in the name of
fun. Tom always had to be the one in  charge, always ready to
walk away without a glance back. He had to hold  that position
of strength with both hands, lest he lose his very soul to 
someone else's keeping.

Though most of his affairs were with women, Tom knew that at
heart he  was most attracted to men. So he had set very strict
rules for himself  for getting involved with one, however
briefly. And part of those rules  translated to always being on
top, since that was the obvious position  of superiority. When
the time came for passion Tom Paris always  took---he would
never be taken because he refused to give.

This was the ultimate boundary in his own mind, a line that was
never  crossed. It kept his heart and soul safe. It also
provided a measure of  protection when the romance inevitably
ended. He could honestly say  that in *his* mind he and his
partner had never really joined. Neither  body nor soul. In this
way he could prove that the relationship was never  truly
intimate. And no one could make demands on Tom because he'd
never  shared enough of himself to let them think he was theirs.

And so he'd lived his life in safe but shallow pleasure until
this  week. Chakotay had blazed across his emotional landscape,
becoming  overnight a teasing friend, a wonderfully responsive
lover, a sensual creature  who radiated desire and burned with
an unparalleled fire of passion.  Tom feared the power the
Maquis Warrior could wrest from his own soul.  The only thing
that kept him returning to the holodeck was the knowledge  that
Chakotay had already agreed to Tom's conditions. And Chakotay
was  first and foremost an honorable man. That made him safe, at
least for  one week; someone who was willing to trust Tom
completely but make no  demands in return. /At least, until that
strange conversation this  morning./

Chakotay may not be expecting things from Tom, but he *was*
starting to  hold back the delights of his personality. Too
easily that could  translate into ending their affair before its
time. And *that* Tom would not  tolerate. He had been promised a
week of glorious fucking, with no risk  and no strings. Tom may
refuse to let feelings enter the equation, but  he was not about
to be denied the luxuriant bounty that was his Titan,  not when
there were only a few days left.

Tom was determined to have all that Chakotay had offered so
freely but  now was attempting to withhold from their joining.
All the warmth and  wit and desire was Tom's due, his just
reward for entering into this  strange and unsettling agreement.
He would break down the wall that kept  from him the fullness of
the older man's participation.

Blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully as Tom considered his strategy.
He  would continue in the same vein as yesterday, testing
Chakotay's physical  limits to demolish the emotional barrier
his lover had thrown up upon  waking. Even if Tom himself
couldn't resist being seduced when he touched  Chakotay, the
pleasure fully compensated for the loss of control. And  the
toys would help to ensure his own emotions were safely in check. 
/Yes, that's the plan./ His smile was very feline as he checked
the  chronometer. 1930. "Computer, location of Commander
Chakotay."

"Commander Chakotay is in Holodeck One."

/Perfect. I'll show up more than a little early. Put him
off-balance  before he's ready for me./ Placing the photo back
with a determined  click, Tom left to surprise his Titan.

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

The blond stepped through the holodeck doors and was surprised
to find  himself in the courtyard. The sky was the deepening
blue of twilight,  and the air held a refreshing hint of
coolness. He quickly noted the  corner he was standing in had
been transformed from the dining area of a  few nights ago. Now
it was a patch of grass, so soft in appearance he  slipped off
his shoes and sank his toes into the yielding comfort of the 
turf. A grouping of trees and flowers obstructed his view, so he
edged  around a waxy-leafed, sweet-blossomed bush to see if
there were any  other changes to the scene.

He paused as he caught a glimpse of Chakotay, seated on the edge
of the  fountain in the nearest corner. His profile was to Tom
as he stared  into the shadowed depths of the water. For long
moments he simply watched  his lover, absorbing Chakotay's and
the evening's stillness. He was  about to speak, to alert
Chakotay to his presence, when he caught the  flash of movement.
And then his cunning plan disappeared in a puff of  smoke.

Chakotay had shifted to put his back to the fountain as he
lifted an  object from his lap. He brought a delicate wooden
flute to his lips,  closed his eyes and after a beat of silence,
began to play. For a moment  Tom didn't hear the music as his
eyes caressed the musician,  square-tipped fingers moving on the
six-holed woodwind, body seated straight but  relaxed. The face
serene as focus turned inward, to the heart and soul  and spirit
of creation.

The sound was...natural, somewhere between the rush of wind and
the  liquid call of a bird. It had a hint of echo to it, a
softness and  mellowness that soothed the body and mind. Tom
could only think of it as the  tree spirit's lingering presence,
rounding and deepening the notes as  they flowed through its
lovingly crafted legacy. It was beautiful. Tom  closed his own
eyes and let the music take him.

In his imagination a scene unfolded: a vast lake at dawn, the
mist  rising from nearly still waters. Trees hid the forest
oasis from prying  eyes, their roots drinking deep the
life-giving liquid and branches  stretching over the edge,
shading the shallows. The pool was cradled in the  laps of
mountains covered in green, snow softening the rocks rising 
above the timberline. A heron glided above its own reflection,
the daps of  its snowy wingtips sending ripples expanding,
circle upon circle as it  crossed the lake. Even when the
surface was still a faint current moved  beneath. The wellspring
of the water's source flowed in as the excess  of the
ever-rising fluid left its home to trickle and skip over stones 
on its way along a furrow carved through grass- and tree-lined
banks,  until it disappeared into the fog-shrouded landscape.

The flute brought Tom all these things in its haunting melody,
becoming  the chatter of the brook, the hush of the mist, the
lift of wind  beneath the bird's wings, the sibilant whisper of
the trees as their leaves  touched in communion with their
neighbors. Echoed in his own soul was  the wonder of nature
spread out beneath the distant peaks, the mystery of  earth and
light and wind and water. They all wove their way into Tom's 
mind, carried on the woody notes of music.

And then the song ended. Tom blinked back to awareness to see
Chakotay  lower the pipe from his lips to stare at the slender
length of wood.  Bronze fingers stroked the holes and lightly
played with a length of  twine wrapped near the top of the
instrument. It seemed to bind into place  a small carving,
unidentifiable at this distance. "That was beautiful,"  Tom said
softly, stepping from his hiding place.

Chakotay looked up, the serenity of the evening in his quiet
voice.  "Thank you," was all he said. The dark eyes were
enigmatic as they  regarded the newcomer.

Tom approached to take a seat next to the solid figure on the 
fountain's rim. His fingers itched to feel the wooden flute.
"May I?" he asked,  indicating the instrument with one finger.

Chakotay silently handed over the piece. Tom ran his hands
against the  satiny surface of the pipe, fitting his fingertips
over the holes,  brushing his thumb along the length of wood. He
could now see that the  figurine was a resting wolf. The detail
was exquisite; the thatching of fur  and the wise eyes giving
the totem life and personality. "This is  impressive. Did you
make it?"

"Yes," Chakotay said, trying to keep his gaze off the long pale
digits.  "I carved it on New Earth. It's not a tradition I'd
ever bothered with  as a child, but one of the trees on that
planet reminded me so much of  cedar...I had to try to craft a
courting flute."

"You did a wonderful job, both carving and playing, Chak," the
younger  man said, handing the instrument back with reluctance.
"What was the  name of that melody?"

The full lips smiled softly. "It doesn't have a name. It wasn't
even a  piece of music, actually." He ran a fingertip lightly
over the wolf's  back. "Though there are songs written for these
flutes, I never took the  time to learn them. For most people,
playing this instrument is like  meditation: the reflection of a
mood, a moment. In this case, a memory."

Tom's voice was dreamy. "Of a forest lake..."

Brown eyes snapped over to bore into blue. "Yes, a place on
Dorvan I  visited often. How did you know?"

"I'm not sure, Chak. I just closed my eyes and I was there." He 
regarded the older man. "So, this is the complement to the
dancing, right?"

"Yes, the 'artistic talent to delight the Regent's spirit'."
Chakotay  abruptly stood and despite the tension evident in his
body, reverently  placed his flute on a soft cloth draped on a
lounge nearby, wrapping it  around the instrument and securing
it with ties. He perched on one arm  of the furniture with a
sigh of indeterminate emotion.

"You weren't planning to show me this, were you?" Tom said,
picking up  on his companion's faint air of reserve.

"No," Chakotay said, shrugging. "I'm not sure why I even
bothered  practicing. There doesn't seem to be much point."

The hint of melancholy in the velvet tones stirred Tom's alarm.
"Why  would you say that, Chak? Do you think you're going to
lose tomorrow?"

"No." The older man leapt to his feet with the emphatic puff of
air. "I  will *not* let that happen."

"Then what's the problem?" A puzzled gaze watched as the
powerful  figure gracefully resettled next to him.

"Well, unless I plan to bleach myself head to toe, I've got my
work cut  out for me attracting the Regent. And Voyager will pay
the price for my  failure." Chakotay shook his head. "It's bad
enough I've voluntarily  become a prostitute. It seems rather
ironic that I'm not even a good  one." /And even more pathetic
that I've fallen in love with my very first  customer./

"What are you talking about?" Tom jumped up in shock. "You've 
been...amazing. Passionate, sexy, alive to the slightest touch.
Not to mention  incredibly beautiful." He took a few steps and
whirled, arms  outstretched. "You were made for pleasure."

Tom walked back to the other man's side. "Nedal is blind,
Chakotay. All  he sees is the flash," he indicated his own gold
hair, then lightly  cupped and tilted the bronzed jaw, "the fool
completely misses the fire."  He leaned down to claim the lush
mouth.

Which abruptly moved out of range. Tom blinked at the flatness
of the  brown eyes as Chakotay leaned back and said quietly,
"Lovely  compliments, Tom, but actions speak louder than words."

Tom's hands dropped and his back stiffened defensively, "What do
you  mean?"

Chakotay wasn't angry, or even upset with Tom. After his
reflections of  this morning, and the depressing discovery in
the Rutali book, he  thought he'd managed to come to grips with
the situation. But Sisryn's  request had pricked at his
conscience and confidence, assailing him with  doubts about the
clarity of his judgement. His resolve was weakened and he  now
struggled with the question of what was the right thing to
do---for  his own people as well as the Rutali.

Now compounding the unsettled swirling in his gut was Tom's lie.
It  hurt. Even if the younger man was simply trying to boost his
companion's  flagging ego---even if he was sincere in his
assessment---Tom's behavior  suggested otherwise. The fact was
that all the pretty words in the  worlds couldn't erase the ache
in Chakotay's soul. Of knowing that the man  he loved could
barely stand to look at him when they...had sex.

Chakotay couldn't even call it making love in his own mind
anymore. It  was just too painful. Maybe if he hadn't just
finished playing the  flute he might have been able to keep
playing his role, accepting  gratefully whatever Tom chose to
give him. But thinking about Dorvan had stirred  up thoughts of
his parents. Of how much they'd loved one another, how  the way
they touched each other even in public conveyed those tender 
feelings. He wondered what *they* would think of his newfound
profession.  Not much, he guessed. Thoughts of their
disappointment sparked his own  sense of shame. The added burden
to the weight of accepted but  unpalatable truths was simply too
much. He couldn't live with falsehoods from  Tom, even if they
were well-intentioned.

He rose and moved away from the slender figure, hoping distance
would  help him resist its lure. "I was looking at the Rutali
tome this morning  when something occurred to me," he said
quietly. "You had been  following the chapters exactly, step by
step. Until yesterday."

The dark eyes watched the color fade, then flush in the ivory
cheeks.  /Well, now I know. It wasn't a coincidence./ "You
completely skipped the  sections on face-to-face positions. You
jumped right to the toys. You  were going to have another
session with them tonight, weren't you?"

All Tom could do was nod, his eyes looking anywhere but at
Chakotay.

Chakotay's expression softened and saddened as he offered his
partner  some reassurance. "That's okay, Tom. It's your call, I
told you that  from the beginning. Just don't lie to me about
your...desires."

The blue eyes blazed indignantly. "But I didn't lie, I---"

"Please," Chakotay cut the younger man off, exasperated. "I've
already  said it doesn't matter. So you don't want to look at me
when we 'do the  deed'. So what? Maybe you need to imagine
somebody else to see you  through the experience." Chakotay
shrugged. "You've probably done me a  favor. It's a good point
to bring up with Nedal. What's the expression,  'All cats are
gray in the dark'?"

Tom sagged, his head falling forward into his hands. He felt
awful. His  own insecurities had hurt Chakotay yet again. This
time he'd wounded  the gentle soul's pride, and probably his
self-esteem as well. He  couldn't believe how wrongly Chakotay
had interpreted the situation. Though,  based on the information
the older man had, it was the only explanation  that made sense.
He closed his eyes, trying to make a decision.

/Option One: I walk indignantly out of here and leave Chakotay
to fend  for himself. Option Two: I take the man at his word,
call up some toys  and ream his gorgeous ass until he forgets
his name, much less this  little chat. Option Three: I lie.
Option Four: I tell him the truth. Or  some of it, at least./
Tom looked up at his lover, noting the soft dark  gaze and still
form. Chakotay was simply waiting. Now at least Tom knew  what
had suffocated the burning passion in the liquid eyes. But he
was  still determined to spark it again. He took a deep breath
and  straightened.

"You're right," Tom began quietly, and caught the briefest flash 
of...grief?...in the deep brown orbs, "and wrong." He stood and
walked back  and forth in front of the fountain, feeling the
coolness of tile against  his bare soles.

"I *did* deliberately skip some chapters in the Rutali book." He
turned  and met Chakotay's eyes, willing his own to communicate
his sincerity  and regret. "But not for the reason you think.
Shit, Chak, I'm sorry.  Again. I never thought about how you
would feel if you found out. I was  just figuring you wouldn't
notice."

He stepped in front of the shorter man. His hand reached out,
hovering  a moment trying to choose a destination, then finally
rested on one  broad shoulder. "I've been avoiding looking at
you each time we truly came  together, Chakotay. Not because I
want someone else, but because I want  you. Too much." He
squeezed the muscle under his fingers, feeling a  faint heat
radiating through the cloth.

"It's so intense. We just look at each other and I'm on fire. I
fall  into your eyes and start to forget that it's just a game.
And I can't  handle it."

Tom swallowed and offered a little more. "This...our time
together...it  can't *mean* anything to me, Chakotay. This is
supposed to be a simple  week-long fling. No strings. Emotions
will just make things messy and  awkward and I'll end it before
I let that happen. I have to be able to  walk away and not look
back. I have to go back to my own life. The only  way I can live
it." He dropped his hand and eyes. "But I never meant to  make
you feel like you were nothing more than a body to bang. You 
couldn't be."

Tom started to step away when his wrist was caught, cradled in a
gentle  grip as Chakotay brought the hand up to his lips and
brushed a faint  kiss across the back. "I understand," was all
he said, but the warmth and  openness had returned to his eyes.

Chakotay accepted Tom's explanation, and empathized with the
younger  man's desire to avoid any pain at their separation. He
was already  hurting and they were still together, and wouldn't
wish that ache on anyone.  Particularly someone he loved. He
smiled softly and lowered their  hands, retaining the clasp.
"Thank you," he said, "for not bolting the  second this
conversation started. And for helping me to see your point of 
view. I know how much it cost you to tell me these things."

Tom gave an answering smile and decided that thoughts, feelings,
and  everything else needed to be jettisoned for the rest of the
night. "So  where do we go from here?"

Chakotay lifted his brows and silently agreed to change the
subject. He  was glad to set his own sorrows and worries aside.
"That's up to you,  Professor. What's on the agenda for the
evening?"

Tom used their joined hands to yank Chakotay into his arms. He
made his  decision, his eyes slitted into a leer. "Sex." He slid
his hands down  the wide back to the curves of the older man's
butt, drawing them closer  together. "You need a well-rounded
education for this well-rounded  ass." He squeezed. "We skipped
a few chapters of your book, I believe. It's  time to rectify
that omission."

Chakotay leaned back to search the smoky gaze. "You don't have
to do  that, Tom." But his spirits lifted at this sign that his
siren cared  about him, at least a little.

"I know. But damn, I want to." Then Tom finally claimed the full
rosy  lips with a thrill of victory. As the kiss deepened and
heated he gave a  blissful sigh. /I told you, my Titan, I'd have
you back again./

The two men simply stood and kissed, tongues chasing each other
in  lusty abandon. Chakotay's arms wound around the slender
waist, stroking up  and down Tom's ribs in rhythm with his sucks
at the pink lips. He  captured Tom's tongue, holding it
delicately between his teeth as he played  with the tip,
flicking it with his own.

Tom started laughing and pulled back, immediately freed by his
pearly  white captors. He pinched the muscular cheek he'd
retained his hold on.  "That tickles, you rascal."

"I've got to keep my teacher on his toes." Dimples flashed.
"Should we  adjourn to the bedroom?"

"No...I think we've got the perfect mattress right here." He led
them  to the large patch of grass and swiped his toes across it
once more.  "Yep, this'll do just fine."

Chakotay shook his head and chuckled. "And they call *me* Nature
Boy."

"As well they should. You go for the real thing. I like my
campouts to  be holographic." He grinned. "No poison ivy, no
bugs, no sunburn." He  sobered and searched the dark brown gaze.
"Are you okay with this?"

"Sure." Chakotay pulled free and crouched, running a palm over
the soft  but springy turf. It tickled his palms. "At least with
this I won't get  rug burns." His eyes twinkled at Tom's slack
jaw as he cautiously lay  down on his back and put his hands
behind his head. "Ready when you  are."

Tom blinked and closed his mouth as he recovered from the shock
of  Chakotay's matter-of-fact statement. He suddenly wondered
where and when  his partner had acquired said rug burns. And
with whom. Then he looked at  the black-haired banquet laid out
before him and figured it wasn't  worth the time to inquire.
"That's your holographic beige sack, isn't it?"  he asked as he
reviewed the loose outfit hiding the bronzed dream of a  body
from his eyes.

"Yep. So now it's my turn for a fashion show. A striptease to be 
precise." Chakotay made a show of getting comfortable. And
surprisingly, he  was. The questions and concerns, in both his
professional and personal  life, could wait until tomorrow. Now
he was about to make love---and  yes, he could call it that
again---with the man he loved. And actually get  to see Tom
plunging deep, gifting Chakotay with his essence. /Who would 
have ever thought that was something I'd look forward to?/ Love 
certainly changed one's perspective. On many things.

Tom moved next to a chair and began to slowly disrobe, very
aware of  the burning gaze lingering on each inch of skin as it
was revealed. He  felt his own body flush in response and
anticipation. He was taking a  risk, he knew. He truly feared
getting lost in those dark eyes, of being  branded forever by
the passion that blazed in them. But this was also a  memory he
*had* to have, the sight of that handsome face seized in the 
moment of orgasm, knowing he had driven Chakotay over the edge
to  completion.

Chakotay could feel his pulse rate increase as more and more 
gold-sprinkled flesh appeared for his visual delectation. All
four slender limbs  were bare, as well as Tom's lean pale torso.
Only the boxers tented  with the younger man's erection
remained. Then blue laser beams pinned him  in place, demanding
his unwavering attention as slender hands pushed  down remaining
garment. He watched Tom's pupils dilate, shoving the blue  to a
thin rim around twin abysses. Chakotay blinked and remembered to 
breathe. Then the gilded ivory sculpture approached with
stalking  slowness, Tom's long cock pointing the way to his
target. Chakotay swallowed.

Tom felt himself drawn to the fire in the hot cocoa eyes. His
Titan was  quiet, all teasing gone, as he watched Tom approach.
He knelt beside  the still-clad body a moment, drawing the
bronzed hands down and  positioning the dark head. His voice was
soft as he instructed, "Part your legs  a bit, Chak. I'm going
to lie between them."

The other man silently complied, then Tom arranged the
beige-draped  limbs to his satisfaction, spreading them further.
He called for the lube,  picked it up and settled on top of
Chakotay, enjoying the brush of  cloth against his naked flesh
and the heat rising from the body below. He  dropped the tube to
one side and shifted, fitting himself into the  curves of
Chakotay's torso, resting his hands on the broad shoulders. He 
leaned further up, his mouth hovering an inch above the fullness
of its  counterpart, his breath teasing. "Computer, delete
holographic garments,"  he said, and descended.

Chakotay had already parted his lips in invitation, trying to
catch the  younger man's exhalations. He closed his eyes and
opened his mouth  wider, accepting the silky invader as
fervently as if they had kissed days  ago, not minutes. He felt
the grass pricking his back as Tom's weight  pressed him deeper
into the turf. He moved his hands carefully,  threading his
fingers through the fair curls, tracing the line of neck, 
spanning his hands across the long back. He stayed above the
waistline, not  wanting Tom's instinctive unease to mar this
coupling. The tongue beating  time against his own suddenly
withdrew and he opened his eyes.

The sapphire gaze was glittering as Tom paused a moment to look
at the  man set against the backdrop of greenery. "Oh yes, I
must have this,"  he said, his voice a throaty growl as he
descended on the bronzed  throat. He breathed in sandalwood and
citrus, mixed with the scent of the  grass. He licked and sucked
his way up and down the column, his tongue  swiping below the
circlet and body-warmed crystal. He paused to moan as 
Chakotay's pelvis bucked up into his own in reaction, brushing
their  groins together. He moved down to explore the muscles of
the coppery chest,  tasting them and nibbling on the dusky
nipples.

Chakotay groaned and lifted his upper body into the subtle tugs
and  soft bites, his head shifting from side to side as Tom
teased his skin.  His hands clenched on Tom's sides a moment,
then drifted forward to play  with the hair on the pale belly,
his fingertips just brushing the top  of his lover's groin.

Tom's hips shot forward of their own accord, trying to force the
warm  hands on his flesh lower, to the full and aching cock that
would soon be  impossible to ignore. His exhalations were
guttural grunts of pleasure  as the obliging fingers wandered
down to lightly tug at the crisp curls  surrounding his shaft.
They mapped his groin, running up and down the  turgid length,
learning the textured pattern of his scrotum.

The sensations spiked his desire, and his own hands moved to
stroke the  soft, soft skin of Chakotay's torso. He rubbed one
fingertip along each  pebbled nipple, keeping the tiny points
erect for his tongue to  torment. Then he kissed along the
shadows formed by the taut pectorals,  tracing between and
underneath each section of the powerful chest. His hands 
shifted down, to run teasingly along the tightly defined
abdomen. He  flicked his fingernails across the washboard
display of muscles, then  walked across the satiny belly,
fitting a fingertip into the indentation  at the center. He felt
the warm hands leave his groin to settle around  his hips as he
lifted himself up to seek his lover's gaze.

Chakotay was catching his breath, feeling his groin ever so
slightly  brush Tom's as his diaphragm expanded on each
inhalation. He didn't break  the connection to the heated blue
gaze, hoping that his trust and  passion and aching need were
clear to see. He gave a soft moan when Tom's  hands stroked
along his hips, the thumbs stretching to tease his sac.

The powerful form beneath Tom was magnificent, all burnished
curves  topped with flushed cheeks and burning dark eyes. His
desire surged again.  He could barely wait to plunge into the
satin channel that awaited him.  "Draw your legs up a little,
Chak, I need to prepare you." His hand  trembled slightly as he
grabbed and opened the tube of lubricant, slicking  the gel
across his fingers.

Chakotay opened his legs, offering himself to the man whose
siren call  had captured not only his heart, but his senses. He
watched the  glistening pale digits disappear behind his
straining erection, and felt one  finger breach his portal. He
relaxed, trusting Tom.

Tom felt the body under his hands soften and some of his own
tension  eased. This time he didn't feel the need to ask if
Chakotay trusted him;  he could see it in the liquid eyes and
welcoming stance. He drank in  the vision of his powerful Titan
moaning softly under his hands. He  carefully stretched the
opening to the heated passage, scissoring and  burrowing deeper,
seeking the sweet spot that would drive his lover wild.

The white-hot urgency had abated somewhat for Chakotay, who was
basking  in the warmth of Tom's regard and the slide of the long
fingers making  their preparations. His eyes were half-closed
and riveted to the  handsome face, watching the brows furrow and
the gaze unfocus in  concentration. Then a lightning
bolt---still surprising---jolted his own body into  action as
his hips jerked, seeking to be further impaled on the dancing 
invaders.

Tom's victorious grin was short-lived as Chakotay started those
long,  low moans that stoked his own desire. His body started
shaking with the  need to thrust, to plunge into the depths of
the supine man whose  velvet voice brushed along his nerves. He
quickly pulled out his hand and  lifted the carved bronzed legs
over his shoulders. "Look at me, Chak."

Chakotay opened his eyes fully and met the demanding sapphire
gaze,  hoping that Tom couldn't read too much in his own. He
felt the head of  Tom's cock nuzzle between his cheeks, seeking
the readied orifice. His  breath caught as the solid length slid
ever so slowly into him, easing its  way through and past the
natural resistance. Another moan made its way  out of his throat
as he tried to relax into the smooth gliding thrust.

Tom's control was shaky at best, tested even further when his
partner's  body opened up to welcome his cock. He held still at
the apex of his  forward movement, buried in his Titan. He
stroked the silky shins draped  along his shoulders and chest,
then smoothed over the length of the  muscular thighs resting
against his ribs. His hands moved down to cup the  full buttocks
and sleek hips, lifting Chakotay's pelvis a little more.  His
cock pressed deeper, stopping only when the hairs on his groin 
brushed the other man's cleft.

Chakotay's nerves were stretched taut as he waited for Tom to
move.  Their eyes were still locked together, and he could sense
the beat of his  lover's pulse through the place of their
joining. They seemed to  breathe as one, both making small
desperate noises. Then, finally, Tom began  drawing back.
Chakotay tightened his inner muscles a little, gripping,  then
relaxing as his partner moved forward again. They kept up the 
unseen choreography for a handful of agonizingly slow strokes.
Until Tom  growled and plunged.

The loss of restraint brought a surge of adrenaline through
Tom's  veins. He began ramming hard and deep, his hands
clenching around his  lover's hips to keep the suddenly twisting
figure in place. It was almost a  fugue state. Nothing existed
except the blood-hot walls that caressed  his cock, the beauty
of the body he thrust into, and the deep brown eyes  holding
his, scorching him with their passion, warming him with their 
trust. There was only this moment and the reality of their flesh 
slamming together.

Chakotay groaned, burning with the heat of fullness, and need.
His  upper body writhed under the relentless pounding, each
stroke bringing  pleasure and building pressure. His pelvis
imprisoned in a fierce grip, he  couldn't lift himself higher
into Tom's thrusts. He wanted more, even  as he felt the slap of
balls against his ass. His hands tore at the  turf, then lifted
to enclose Tom's buttocks. He squeezed as the younger man 
withdrew almost completely, and pulled with every forward lunge,
urging  Tom on.

Tom was too far gone to worry about the strong fingers burning
prints  onto his backside. He was at the top of a very high
climb, and the dive  off the peak was all he lived for. One hand
shifted to the small of  Chakotay's back, still supporting the
heaving body, while the other  enclosed the dark cock bobbing
with every movement. He felt the precum  slicking the steel-silk
sex as he pumped furiously. His eyes were glued to  Chakotay's
face, desperate to see the moment of climax. He prayed it  would
be soon.

The feel of strong fingers wrapped around his penis collided
with the  messages sent from the nerves deep in his body, where
Tom's cock beat  against his prostate with every stroke. The
sensations burned along his  spine, driving toward his brain to
burst into a wildfire, raging out of  control. His hands loosed
their hold on Tom as his body arched into a  taut curve, leaving
the grass to surge into the air. A deep-throated  roar sounded
from his throat even as the white-hot fluid of his release 
spurted, fanning upward to coat Tom's hand and leave flecks of
glistening  semen on both of their bodies.

Tom felt Chakotay's body heave, driving against him in climax.
He  stared with wild eyes at the beauty stretched out before
him, entranced by  the regal face transformed in pleasure. Then
the world became velvet  black streaked with stars as Tom's eyes
fluttered closed. He surrendered  to his own need, pushing again
and again into the silken heat  surrounding him. His throat
opened in a shout of ecstasy as his seed emptied from  his
balls, shooting through his cock and into the Chakotay's
passage.

Tom slumped a little and kissed each silken leg before he moved
them  off of his shoulders. He carefully lowered them, but was
caught  unprepared when Chakotay snapped into action. The
coppery muscular limbs at  waist level suddenly jerked out of
his hold and clenched around his torso.  The next thing Tom knew
his back was on the grass and he was staring  into Chakotay's
grinning face.

His body froze for a moment as he realized that Chakotay was
straddling  him, but relaxed when he became aware that the older
man had somehow  kept Tom's softening cock from slipping out.
"What the fuck---" he  stuttered.

"Don't get your syllabus in a twist, Professor, I just wanted a
change  of scenery." Chakotay gave a dramatic sigh. "And what a
lovely view."  His eyes mapped the contours of Tom's face and
body.

Tom rolled his eyes. "You do realize that topping from the
bottom does  *not* need to be taken literally, don't you?" He
brought his own knees  up, making his thighs a backrest for his
partner.

Chakotay gratefully settled against the textured support,
careful not  to lose their connection. "It's not?" His look of
innocent confusion was  spoiled when both of them started
chuckling.

The dark eyes softened as Chakotay shook his head a moment and
gave Tom  a small smile. "Thank you. I wouldn't have missed this
for the world.  You've certainly convinced me that you're not
imagining someone else."

/If only you knew, my Titan. All I can do is hope that when
we've ended  this I don't start seeing *you* when someone else
is in my bed./ Tom  drifted into similar morbid thoughts until
warm fingers lifted his chin.  He saw that the older man's
expression had shifted into concern. "Are  you all right, Tom?"

Tom shook off the temporary melancholy and grinned. "Oh, I'm
doing just  fine. Especially if this," he indicated Chakotay's
position, "means  we're going to have another round and *you'll*
be doing all the work this  time."

"Not all of it, surely." Chakotay lifted his hands skyward and 
stretched, but stopped at the apex and blinked surprise at Tom
when he felt a  twitch inside him. "Already?"

Tom felt himself blushing in embarrassment and shrugged. "What
can I  say, the view's pretty good down here, as well."

Chakotay bowed slightly in acknowledgement. He lowered his arms
and  lightly began running his fingers through the curls on the
pale chest. "I  figure you'll wear me out. I need a good night's
sleep." He sobered  abruptly and dropped his eyes.

Tom frowned and shifted under the distracting hands. "Are you
worried  about tomorrow, Chak?"

Chakotay frowned slightly, debating his answer. He really was 
conflicted about the combat after listening to Sisryn. He knew
he had to protect  Tom, but what if the Chief Consul was right
and defeating Nedal caused  a civil war? Could he live with that
on his conscience? /It's funny how  nobody, including me, seems
to doubt I at least have a shot at taking  the Regent down. I
guess those months battling hand-to-hand with  Cardassians
pretty much trained me to fight bigger, stronger---and 
meaner---opponents./

Unfortunately, he didn't feel he could share any of his concerns
with  Tom. Knowing the younger man's noble spirit, he had no
doubts Tom would  insist on sacrificing himself to Voyager's
cause. And while giving  Nedal what and who he wanted would no
doubt take them farther through the  wormhole, Chakotay couldn't
bring himself to put his love into such  cruel claws. Especially
since he sensed that the Regent expected certain  duties that
were not in Tom's repertoire. True to his nature Tom would 
rebel, and likely be destroyed for it.

Blue eyes narrowed as Tom noticed the emotions crossing the
handsome  face above him. He knew that Chakotay had reached a
decision when the  bronzed features smoothed out and the
serenity returned to the dark gaze.

"Yes, Tom, I am. I'm going up against a pretty impressive
opponent  and...there are a lot of repercussions that I wasn't
aware of before." He  looked down at his own hands lying against
the pale skin. "I don't  really want anyone to get hurt," he
finished softly.

The younger man sighed and laid his own hands on top of
Chakotay's.  "You know somebody always gets hurt when people
play power games, Chak."  He tightened his grip a little and
caught the uncertain eyes. "Just make  sure it's not you."

Chakotay snorted and freed his hands, gripping the delicate
wrists and  bringing them to rest on each side of the blond
head. "That *is* the  general idea." He kissed the tip of the
aristocratic nose. "Thanks for  the reminder." He was only
half-joking.

"Anytime," Tom said, acknowledging the end of their chat by
grabbing  his companion's tempting lower lip between his teeth.
He nibbled his  prize, working from one end to the other, then
released it to begin a  sizzling, open-mouthed kiss.

Chakotay released Tom's wrists to place his hands on cheeks
flushing  with renewed desire. He accepted the warm invader in
his own mouth,  stroking his tongue against it in encouragement.
His fingers played with the  blond's neatly set ears, ran along
the working jaw and down the slim  throat. He felt another
twitch from Tom's cock.

Tom lifted his arms to encircle the strong neck, feeling the
brush of  the Rutali crystal against his own chest as Chakotay
leaned farther  forward. He began carding the silky black hair
and tickling the sensitive  nape. Then he felt the blunt,
powerful fingers drift back to his chest  and moaned into their
kiss, his hips lifting involuntarily as his  nipples were
teased.

Chakotay ran his hands over the curly-haired torso, enjoying the 
tickling against his palms, which matched the golden filaments
rubbing  against his scrotum and buttocks. He shifted a little
as the rod inside him  made itself known once more, filling and
stiffening.

Pale hands glided down the smooth bronzed back, nerves tingling
as they  made contact with the soft skin. They languidly slid
around to the  solid chest and belly, tickling the navel. Tom
shifted his hips again and  moved his fingers to that
tantalizing ass, exploring the rounded muscles  and tracing a
digit around the place where their bodies connected. This 
earned him a lungful of hot breath as Chakotay rumbled his
approval  into their joined mouths.

The older man reluctantly broke the kiss. "I think I'd better
not be  distracted while I figure out how this works." He
blushed and smiled down  into passion-hazed blue eyes, feeling a
rush of tenderness and love  fill his chest. He clamped his jaw
shut for a moment, holding back  dangerous words that had no
place in a casual affair. /I love you. I love  you,/ his mind
chanted with every heartbeat. He ran his hand down the side  of
Tom's face and leaned up. He shifted on his knees, preparing to 
move.

Tom looked at eyes as ageless and wise as the earth they echoed,
but  burning with an intensity that stole his breath. *He* was
the focus of  all that fire, the magnificence that was Chakotay.
He would never regret  this moment, as the warmth of affection
rushed to join the heat of  desire pooling in his groin. "Give
me your hands, Chak," he said quietly,  lifting his own.

Chakotay laid his palms over Tom's, quirking his lips as he
remembered  measuring their fingers in the pool. He felt the
slender arms offer  support for his own body as he rose up. He
felt Tom's length sliding from  him, still slick with cum and
lube. Before it slipped free, he  descended slowly. The supine
man groaned, eyelids fluttering. "Shit, Chak,"  came the throaty
comment.

Chakotay almost grinned as he rose up again, this time coming
down a  little faster. He added a wriggle on the way. Tom
groaned and jerked his  hips up, wringing a gasp from Chakotay's
throat as his prostate was  hit.

The two men's fingers intertwined and their eyes met as they
continued  to move, Tom rising up to meet Chakotay's descent.
Their tempo was  slow, savoring the smooth glide of their
joining.

Tom felt as though his senses were preternaturally alert. He
felt every  blade of grass beneath his back, the coolness of the
air against his  flushed skin. The energy flowing between the
men, the satin skin brushing  against his sides and thighs and
pelvis as Chakotay ascended and  returned. The pulse of the
channel sheathing him, the muscles stretching for  his arrival.
The aroma of their arousal and earlier release blending  with
the sweet-spice scent of the man riding him. And most of all,
the  heat. Of the body surrounding him. Of his own desire. Of
the burning eyes  of his Titan, Prometheus alight with divine
fire. A gift he freely  shared with the mortal helpless beneath
him. Tom groaned again but couldn't  wrench his eyes from the
vision.

Chakotay felt as though he was absorbing a part of his lover
with every  movement. And a part of his own soul was traveling
across the bridge  formed by their locked eyes, drawn into his
golden siren to sink beneath  the surface of twin sapphire seas.

Gazes riveted, they moved together, faster now as the primal
demands  for completion rose in an undeniable spiral. They each
released one hand,  Chakotay to caress the porcelain-and-gilt
chest, Tom to rub along the  length of a muscular leg. He began
at the ankle, keeping time with the  flexing knee, cupping the
burnished thigh. He shifted inward, running  the tip of his
finger against the head of the dark cock offered to him.

Chakotay moaned as he felt the brush of Tom's hand against his 
throbbing sex. The internal push against his gland was an
exquisite pleasure  that also urged him toward the explosion of
climax. He made more deep  sounds of approval as additional
fingers arrived to tease his straining  shaft and scrape lightly
the underside of the crown bathed in precum. He  had to resist
an urge to thrust forward, keeping to his up-and-down  motion
but losing a little of his control, twisting his hips more
strongly  on the descent.

Tom thrust up desperately, feeling his ass leave the ground as
he  braced his feet against the turf for more leverage. He *had*
to come, before  his whole body burst into flame from the
build-up of need. He felt a  choked cry wrenched from his belly
as the body riding him got more wild  in its movements. He
stopped playing with Chakotay's cock and gripped it  with
determination, squeezing and pumping.

The friction on his penis finally pushed the older man over the
edge.  Never losing eye contact with his siren, his mouth
dropped open in a  shout of pleasure and relief as his climax
hit. It squeezed through his  body, forcing air out of his lungs
and cum from his cock. It literally  seized the solid shaft
inside him as his muscles tightened in the  full-body clench of
fulfillment.

The muscular sheath around Tom's cock gripped him with moist
silken  heat. He grabbed Chakotay's hip with his free hand,
feeling his face  tighten with a primal urge as he thrust
fiercely upward and pulled  Chakotay's body onto himself. He was
pure instinct, driven by eons-old  compulsions to bury himself
as deeply as he could in his partner. He screamed,  loud and
long, and finally sank back to the grass, sweaty, replete and 
depleted.

Just in time to catch a rather substantial armful of similarly
sated  and drained Titan. They finally ended their mutual stare
as Chakotay  toppled forward. Tom's right nipple hardened
instantly as heated pants  washed over it. He groaned, this time
in frustration. "Shift a little,  Chak. There's no way I've got
a round three in me."

A sweat-beaded forehead rubbed against his collarbone as the
older man  nodded. He slid his hips up, feeling Tom's spent sex
separate with a  trickle of semen and lube. He then very
carefully rolled off the slender  body to lay on his back in the
grass. He felt his pulse and breathing  slow, and a strange ache
of emptiness in his body.

"I don't suppose there's any chance of you carrying me over to
the  pool?" Tom's voice rose hopefully as he found the strength
to turn his head  to regard his companion.

Chakotay chuckled. "I can't even drag myself there." He met the 
questioning blue eyes with rueful brown. "I must say, Professor,
your make-up  classes are even more strenuous than your
scheduled ones."

"Mmmm...and not just on the student." Tom stretched, languidly,
and  yawned. "I certainly hope you're ready to sleep, 'cause
there's no way I'm  moving from this spot until tomorrow."

"Yes, mission accomplished. You wore me out---heck, I'll be
lucky I'm  awake by noon tomorrow." Chakotay blinked his vision
clear again as his  eyelids continued to droop.

Tom stirred with concern. "You're kidding, right? You can't face
Nedal  at less than your best."

"Yes, it was just a joke. I'll be fine. We're both off for the
next few  days, so you don't even have to worry about getting up
early." Chakotay  summoned up a towel and made a desultory
attempt to clean up. He  flopped a matching one on Tom's
stomach, but it was ignored. The bronzed man  shrugged and
accessed the bedroom, orienting it so they ended up on the 
mattress.

"It's too bad we can't just be *in* the bed when it appears."
Tom  dragged himself slug-like across the cover and underneath
it.

Chakotay settled in, and down to sleep. A sudden thought snapped
his  eyes open for a moment. "Tom, I'm going to have a few
meetings in the  morning. So I might not be here when you wake."

Tom shifted in small increments, snuggling his way into arms
that  immediately opened to receive him. "'Sokay. Just be here
as I go to sleep."  A soft snore soon followed.

Chakotay stared at the sleeping siren on his chest, and brushed
a quick  smiling kiss across the slack pink lips. He closed his
eyes. /Tom my  love, there isn't anywhere else I'd rather be./

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

The Rutali Regent glided through the secret passageway, his ears
tuned  to any noises announcing potential witnesses. While it
was unlikely any  of the few other passengers with access were
roaming the hidden  corridors in the dead of night, he was
taking no chances. Nedal moved  stealthily around the corners,
making his way to the room reserved for  tomorrow's bout.

He'd accomplished the day's duties in a daze, arranging a combat
to  settle a territorial dispute between two prides and
confirming plans to  put to use some of the money currently
pouring into the royal coffers. He  also outlined the Rutali
position on trade and defense issues, the  starting points for a
summit with a neighboring species set to begin in  several
months. But whatever task occupied his mind, a small part was
set  aside to mull over the upcoming confrontation with the
Larat. He'd  decided to adjust the odds in his favor some time
in the afternoon, but was  forced to wait until now to implement
his plan.

He darted inside, and shut the hidden panel with the quietest of 
clicks. Torches provided the only light, islands of flickering
brightness in  the large shadowed room. He crossed to a box
sitting on a table against  one wall, and edged into its torch's
radius of illumination. He knew he  was alone but couldn't shake
the dread of being discovered at his work.

Nedal flipped open the lid, revealing a pair of brown gloves
thickly  tipped with padding. He lifted one and slipped it over
his hand, flexing  it in the dimness. He tried to unsheathe his
claws, but was blocked by  the thick guards in the glove's
fingertips.

He removed the offending accessory and regarded it with narrowed
eyes.  /So, Sisryn believes she has leveled the playing field./
He snorted as  he pulled a slender, pointed tool from the pocket
of his robe. /Only  someone as naive as my Chief Consul would
leave these things unattended.  As if any Rutali would allow
himself to be de-clawed in battle./

The Regent pushed the sharp probe into the thumb of the glove,
twisting  it delicately. He maneuvered the tool carefully,
pushing the padding  away from the center of the leather
covering the tip. When the outline of  the metal could be
clearly seen, he retracted it and sent it into the  next finger.
He figured his claws would eventually pierce the remaining 
barrier during the fight. It just had to be timed perfectly so
the  failure of Sisryn's guards looked like an accident.

Nedal's smile was chilling as he finished one glove and began
the  other. He would teach that arrogant human not to cross the
Rutali Regent,  and gain a Larat of his own choosing in the
bargain.

Eventually his task was completed and he laid the gloves to
rest,  closing the box with a satisfied sigh. He knew that no
one else would be  examining them before tomorrow's bout. The
Chief Consul would no doubt  have been fluttering around, but
Nedal had arranged for her to be liaison  to the members of
Voyager's crew scheduled to attend the match. His  eyes gave the
room one further scan before the Rutali departed for his  bed.
To dream of victory.

As the hidden panel snicked shut once again, a slight figure
stirred,  emerging from a shadowed corner. The watcher walked
over to the table  and laid a delicate hand on the box. She
stayed there a moment,  pondering, then turned and exited,
leaving the room once more in silence broken  only by the soft
crackling of the flames.

TBC