GENTLEMEN'S AGREEMENT

Title: Gentlemen's Agreement, 7/16 
Author: Jaye (Copyright May 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: Slightly AU, P/T never happened and I don't know how canon 
Chakotay dresses off duty. Also, Tom's 30, Chakotay 39. The
vegetarian  info/meal is based on dishes at several restaurants.

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

PART SEVEN

/He's hopeless. Absolutely hopeless./ Chakotay couldn't take
anymore.  He walked around the counter to stand behind the lanky
jean-clad blond,  putting his hand over pale knife-wielding
digits. The fingers stilled,  ending their senseless mangling of
an innocent yellow squash. "You  really are clueless in the
kitchen, aren't you?"

Tom's T-shirt covered spine stiffened in resentment as he shoved
the  knife to the edge of the cutting board. "I *told* you,
Chak, so it's your  own fault for not believing me." He started
to push away, but found  himself blocked by the solid
caftan-garbed body at his back.

"Relax, I wasn't criticizing you. You just need a little
adjustment to  your technique." Chakotay moved Tom's hand to the
knife, and they both  picked it up, coppery fingers encircling
ivory. The older man rested  his chin on Tom's shoulder, and
guided their left hands to the vegetable.  "Open up your arms,
crook them at the elbow a little more. We're making  a right
angle where the blade crosses the squash."

He curled Tom's fingers under and arranged them along the bright
golden  peel. "Keep your fingertips away from the knife, there's
less chance of  injury that way." Then he shifted the knife
hand. "You want a straight  line from elbow to wrist to
knuckles---that way you won't feel tired  even if you have to do
a lot of chopping. You also want to roll down the  middle and
back of this blade, that's where all the power is." He lined 
the vegetable under the gleaming edge and exerted a light
pressure.

Tom relaxed into the warmth of Chakotay's unintentional embrace, 
letting the older man guide his arms and hands. He was surprised
when the  knife began cleanly slicing the squash into coins, one
precise cut after  another. "Huh, that actually works."

"Yep, so how about you finish those while I put the kettle on,
so to  speak." Chakotay briskly pulled out a medium-sized pot
and partially  filled it with vegetable broth from a carafe he'd
set on the counter  earlier. After he checked the level,
Chakotay carried it over to the table  and set it on a hotplate
built into the wooden surface. He adjusted the  temperature
controls, then moved to the stasis unit to pull out two  salads
and a tall glass bottle of dressing. He set the salads on the
table  near the bread basket and water glasses, then began
vigorously shaking  the container, keeping his thumb on the
stopper.

"Hey, what kind of operation is this? First you put me to work
and now  I don't even get a choice of dressings," Tom teased as
he picked up  another squash.

"I'm not listening to it. I slaved over a room-temperature
counter  making sauces before starting work this morning."
Chakotay set the bottle  down. "This happens to be a balsamic
vinaigrette that was designed to go  with the salad."

"What other stuff did you make?" The younger man was genuinely 
interested now.

"Well, this is kind of a bistro meal. Once the broth is hot I'll
add  some more herbs to it, then we just throw vegetables in,
cook them for a  few minutes and pull them out for dipping. I
made ravioli as well, the  dressing, and five sauces: curry, red
wine and herbs, creamy  horseradish, honey-dijon mustard, and a
sweet scallion-and-chive mix. Plus a  five-grain bread. Oh, and
dessert."

"And the salads." Tom reminded, accentuating his statement with
the  knife.

Chakotay moved over to the opposite side of the counter and
began  adding the pieces of squash to the plate of mushrooms,
tiny potatoes,  broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and ravioli.
"Yes, but that was mainly just  shredding and chopping."

Tom looked at the artful arrangement and shook his head. "So
you're a  chef, a masseur, a dancer, and, oh by the way, a
Starfleet officer. Why  the hell aren't you married?"

Chakotay paused in the midst of a turn toward the table, plate
in hand.  His expression turned wistful. "I was, almost." He
lifted a shoulder.  "She died. Wolf 359."

"Oh, shit, Chak, I'm sorry." Tom hurried around the corner to
lay a  hand on a strong wrist.

The dark eyes returned from their journey to the past as
Chakotay  offered a small smile. "No need to be. It was a long
time ago." He started  toward the table, Tom following to slide
into the booth and pick up his  napkin.

Chakotay set down the plate, dumped a small container of freshly 
chopped herbs into the pot, and handed over the bottle of
dressing. He  arranged his own napkin and took back the bottle
when Tom was finished. "It  was a real turning point for me. I
couldn't bear to be among the stars  without her. So I decided
to resign my commission and go home to Dorvan,  try to make a
life planetside."

He finished pouring, set the bottle down and picked up his
utensils.  "Then I was offered the post at the Academy. I
sometimes wonder if things  would have been different if I had
followed my original plan." He  looked down a moment, "Maybe I
could have done something if I'd been there  when the
Cardassians attacked."

"No, you'd only have gotten yourself killed as well. Trust me,
Chak.  'What ifs' never do any good." Tom fiddled with his fork
a moment. "I  should know."

Chakotay caught the somber blue gaze. "I'm sure things worked
out for  the best. But it's sometimes hard to resist taking a
stroll down the  road not taken. Just think," the brown eyes
twinkled, "you could have  saved Chell's life on Ocampa."

Tom rolled his eyes and laughed, letting the mood lift. "Yeah
right.  He'd have *never* gotten me to fly for him in the
Maquis, no matter how  drunk I was at the time I agreed."

"As I recall, you weren't all that drunk. Either that or you're
a  better negotiator sloshed than sober."

Tom began to eat, letting the sweet-tart zing of the vinaigrette
settle  on his tongue. "Mmmm...I withdraw all complaints about
the salad. Can  we use this dressing for the other stuff, too?"

"Sure. I like to do that myself." Chakotay leaned forward to
confide,  "I can't stand curry powder."

"But you made a sauce anyway? Thanks," Tom said, then covered
his  sudden warm and fuzzy feelings by opening the cloth
covering the basket of  bread. "So what do you use instead of
butter?" he asked, pulling out a  crusty slice.

"Usually olive oil," he pointed out the small carafe, "or a
chutney or  some kind of spread. My mother used leftover soup.
She'd boil out most  of the liquid then mill it for a few
minutes. Of course, it wasn't  often there was anything left in
the pot by the time all the kids got done  eating."

Chakotay watched Tom carefully drizzle the golden liquid over
his  slice. "Would you do mine as well?" he asked, choosing one
and holding it  out.

Tom's eyes followed the fluid as it dripped from the squat 
narrow-necked bottle onto the bread held in Chakotay's strong
hand. He swallowed  and hastily set the oil down. "That looks
like enough."

"Perfect. Thanks." The Commander dug into his salad, then looked
at  Tom. "So what about you? I'm surprised someone didn't snap
up Starfleet's  golden boy as soon as you were legal."

The slim shoulders shrugged. "I was engaged a year after I
graduated,  but the situation wasn't the same." His mouth
twisted. "It was  practically an arranged marriage. I was
introduced to 'a daughter of one of the  finest families'. Dear
old Dad had never shown an interest in my love  life before, so
the message was pretty clear that this was the mother of  the
next Paris heir."

He looked into his companion's sympathetic gaze. "She broke it
off  after Caldik Prime. The only bright spot to the whole
experience."

"I'm sorry," Chakotay said, wondering how any parent could be so 
cold-blooded about marriage, especially their children's.

"No problem. As you said, it was a long time ago." Tom used his
bread  to sop the last bit of dressing on his empty salad dish,
and eagerly  peered into the pot. "So can we get started?"

Chakotay chuckled and grabbed both licked-clean plates, dropping
them  on the counter on the way to the stasis unit. "Sure, let
me just grab  the toppings and dishes."

Tom looked at the colorful tray of sauces complete with tiny
serving  spoons Chakotay soon set on the table. He also examined
the odd pewter  plate set in front of him. It was a hemisphere
that looked like a rising  sun, half a circle surrounded by
small wells radiating outward to the  edge. "So the sauces go in
the spokes, and the food in the center?"

"You got it. So, what would you like to start with?" Chakotay
returned  to his seat and indicated the dish of vegetables with
a flourish worthy  of a fine-arts dealer.

"Definitely the ravioli. Wait a minute---" his eyes narrowed
"what's in  them if you don't eat cheese?"

"Tofu mixed with herbs and a substance called nutritional yeast.
Most  people can't tell it apart from gorgonzola." He dropped
the circular  pockets of dough in, then gently stirred with a
slotted pewter spoon.

Tom watched the ravioli swirling. He started to salivate at the 
enticing scent, then looked up at his companion. "You're lucky
you grabbed  that spoon first."

Raven brows drew together. "Why?"

"I bet those taste as good as they smell." Tom grinned
wolfishly. "I  get a hold of that spoon and you're going to be
on bread and water the  rest of the night." He eyed the basket
and reconsidered. "Maybe just  water."

The two men shared a laugh and settled in for an evening of
cooking and  conversation.

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

"I can't say I'll give up cheeseburgers, Chakotay, but you have 
convinced me that people can live quite happily without them,"
Tom said,  dabbing his lips with his napkin and giving a
satisfied sigh.

"I'm glad to hear it. I wasn't originally planning on a vegan
meal. I'm  usually more considerate of the person I'm cooking
for. I had thought  about making a pizza or lasagna or
something, but then I found myself  with a bowl of tofu in
hand." Chakotay grinned. "It was probably my  passive-aggressive
attempt at revenge for being at the beck and call of a  junior
officer."

"And your cunning plan to punish me was foiled by your own
culinary  skill. Very poetic." Tom's eyes drifted around the
counter area,  searching. "You did say something about dessert?"
he asked, turning gleaming  puppy-dog eyes on his host.

Chakotay laughed. "I bet you *always* got served first as a kid,
with a  look like that." He slid out of his seat, taking the pot
with him. "Why  don't you clear off the table and I'll get it
set up."

"What is it? Will it take long?" Tom was hastily stacking
plates. He  figured if dinner had been that delicious, dessert
would be spectacular.

"I should make you wait, but---" he filled a smaller pot with
water and  opened the stasis unit to pull out a steel bowl and
carry it to the  table, "we're having chocolate fondue."

"Fondue? I haven't had that in *years*." Tom deposited the
near-empty  tray of sauces on the counter and peered into the
stasis unit. "What are  we using for dipping?"

Chakotay turned from where he had set the pot to simmering so
the  chocolate would melt. He sauntered silently over to Tom and
couldn't resist.  He swatted the pert denim-clad ass.

"Hey!" Tom yelled, more surprised than anything else. He turned
to see  Chakotay standing with arms folded, a stern look on his
face.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to go poking through
other  people's cabinets?" Chakotay said, doing a fair imitation
of aggrieved  outrage.

"What are you afraid of, Chak? I'll discover your secret stash
of beef  jerky?" Tom had slinked over to stand in front of the
older man. He  watched the regal nose wrinkle as Chakotay
reacted to his question.

"Beef jerky? Just by the sound of it I'd rather gnaw on a
Starfleet  ration pack any day." Chakotay slipped around Tom and
opened the stasis  unit, pulling a covered dish from the bottom
shelf. He was careful to  keep his own posterior out of range.
"Would you like some coffee to go  with your chocolate?" he
asked.

"Nah, I'll just refill the water glasses." Tom quickly did so,
keeping  his eye on the plate as Chakotay added dessert dishes
and two-tined  forks with extra-long handles to the table. His
mouth started to water as  the dark chocolate melted into a
tempting pool, liquid and glistening  like a certain sexpot's
eyes.

Both men sat. Chakotay gripped the cover and lifted it,
revealing  another appetizing array, this time of fruits,
marshmallows, and what looked  to be tiny squares of various
cakes.

"Oh yeah," Tom said appreciatively and speared a bite-sized
brownie.  "Now?"

"Yes, now." Chakotay chuckled and chose a marshmallow. The two
men  swirled their selections in the chocolate, lifting their
plates to catch  the drippings as they pulled their prizes from
the clinging confection.

Tom waited a moment, then lifted the morsel to his lips. The
intense  taste melted onto his tongue, liquid dark chocolate
yielding to solid. He  moaned at the rich, complex flavor.

Chakotay nearly choked on his half-swallowed marshmallow at the
younger  man's sound. /If that wasn't a siren song I don't know
what is./ He  found himself wanting to hand feed a sweet between
those pink lips and  watch them open again in another long low
sound of bliss. Instead, he  speared a strawberry for himself
and saw Tom choose a slice of banana.

Tom savored the coated fruit, then said, "You can thank me
anytime for  anything, Chak. The Rutali aren't the only ones
with style."

Chakotay looked at the man across from him, the light from lamps
and  torches flickering against the pale skin, making it glow
golden in the  night. He smiled. "You're welcome." The two
continued to dip the treats,  both silenced by their enjoyment
of the dessert and heightened  awareness of each other.

Tom watched Chakotay's tongue clear a smear of chocolate from
the full  lips and nearly groaned again, this time with renewed
desire. /He's the  most sensual eater I've ever seen, and he's
not even trying. I am never  going to be able to sit across from
him in the Mess Hall again./

Two forks stabbed at the last brownie, the last anything, on the
plate.  Chakotay came up the victor. He slowly twirled and waved
the bite of  cake before Tom's eyes. "Would you like some more?"
he asked silkily.

Tom knew his eyes had to be as big as their dessert plates as
they  hypnotically followed the dancing fork. "Yes," he
breathed, wondering just  what he was agreeing to.

Chakotay dipped the fork into the chocolate and let it go. He
slowly  stood and moved around the table, pushing it back so he
had room to kneel  in front of Tom. "I think it's time for my
quiz, Professor." He slowly  eased the lean form down so Tom was
lying lengthwise on the bench.  "Computer, remove holographic
garments and the back to this seat."

Tom felt the cushions against his naked spine as he sprawled. He
felt  less trapped now that the backrest was gone. His gaze
traced Chakotay's  torchlit skin as the older man swung back to
retrieve the pot of  chocolate. /You are, my Titan, fire made
flesh./ Then Chakotay turned and Tom  was scorched by that
burning dark gaze, feeling it slowly glide along  his body. He
could barely breathe, so intense was his anticipation.

Chakotay tested the temperature of the remaining chocolate with
a  finger, which he slowly licked clean as he watched Tom's
pupils dilate even  more. Then carefully lifting the
brownie-topped fork, he swung the  dripping morsel toward his
partner's open lips. He let the chocolate  dribble away from the
brownie, drawing a random dark pattern on the creamy  skin of
Tom's mouth, chin, and neck.

Tom moaned as the warm liquid coated him. Then he saw the fork
descend  into the pot again and emerge once more. He opened his
lips as the cake  approached, his tongue yearning toward the
treat. He felt the texture,  sliding and firm against his tongue
before the flavor burst into his  mouth. He savored, chewing
slowly, then swallowed and opened his eyes.

The older man watched Tom's enjoyment through slitted eyes,
waiting.  When the sapphire orbs were visible once more, he
moved very slowly to  Tom's neck and began licking off the
chocolate with long, slow strokes of  his tongue. He sucked a
mouthful of skin here and there, leaving the  white flesh
gleaming. He tipped up his lover's chin, nibbling along the 
underside of his jaw, then moved to kiss and clean the line of
bone.  Chakotay shifted, delicately flicking his tongue over the
younger man's  chin. Then he raised himself up and considered
Tom's chocolate-smeared  mouth.

Tom opened up, desperate for the overwhelming flood of sensation
that  was Chakotay's kiss. He gasped in surprise when those rosy
lips *didn't*  press against his own. Instead, that evasive
tongue darted out for a  sample here, a brush there, always
staying away from Tom's grasping  mouth. If he tried a more
aggressive move, lifting his head or doing his own  foraging,
Chakotay drew out of range completely. It was maddening, but  it
was also spiking Tom's awareness of each contact with moist heat
of  Chakotay's mouth. He sank back onto the cushions, opened his
mouth  again and closed his eyes, conceding.

Satisfied that he had control for the moment, Chakotay set the
pot  aside and returned to his cat-like cleaning of Tom's face.
He took long wet  licks across the length of the pink lips,
dipping occasionally to brush  against the inner walls. The he
moved up, earning a startled glance as  he lightly grasped Tom's
nose between his teeth and very gently worked  up its pert
length. He kissed the patch of pale skin between the winged 
blond brows, then traced each one with his closed lips. He then
kissed  his way across the wide forehead and down one cheek to
reach Tom's left  ear.

Tom moaned and closed his eyes as a hot breath curled around the 
delicate tissues. He shuddered as Chakotay did his own
tongue-fucking,  darting into Tom's ear and withdrawing in a
familiar rhythm. Then teeth  scraped along the outer edge,
following the curve down to the lobe, which  was sucked in time
to the same heady beat. Tom gasped at a bite to the  flesh just
below his ear, and felt a warm palm cupping the other side of 
his face.

The younger man's tingling nerves noted Chakotay's leisurely
oral trek  down his throat once more to graze along his
collarbone. He was  surprised at the detour to his shoulder and
down his arm. Sucking at the crook  of his elbow caused a
tingling along the entire limb. Then that wicked  mouth worked
its way down to the fine-boned wrist and hand.

Chakotay delivered light bites along the back and knuckles, then 
followed the outer edge to the tip of Tom's pinky. He moved the
digit into  his mouth for a thorough laving. He slowly glided
off, only to separate  it from its mates so he could suck at the
delicate skin in the valley in  between. He continued his
treatment to each slender finger in turn.

Tom was writhing now, his penis throbbing with need. The only
part of  his body that was still was his left hand, cradled in
the grip of two  darker counterparts. He could feel sensations
building and building as  the focus moved from one finger to
another. Tom almost screamed when the  sensitive skin spanning
from index finger to thumb was nibbled like a  slice of melon.
Then his thumb was captured, teeth holding the base  while the
pad was tongued and the knuckle rubbed against the ridges of 
Chakotay's palate. The air was cool against his wet fingers as
Chakotay  moved to Tom's palm, tracing the lines with his tongue
and nipping his  Venus mount. Then his wrist was lapped,
tonguetip pressing against his  throbbing veins, and the mouth
left him.

Chakotay turned his head and rubbed his cheek along the soft
skin on  the inside of Tom's arm. He followed the limb back up
to the shoulder,  then descended into the field of golden chest
hair. He let the very edges  of his chin and lips brush the
light-colored filaments, blowing against  the skin underneath as
he moved. He reached a dark pink nipple and  nuzzled against it,
then closed his mouth around the pebbled flesh.

Tom whimpered and thrust his torso up as Chakotay gripped the
tiny nub  in his teeth, his tongue swiping and stabbing against
it in turn. Tom  tried to twist his fingers into the bench's
padding, but couldn't get a  hold of the slippery cloth. He
finally grabbed the edges of the cushion  in a death grip. He
felt Chakotay kissing his chest as he made his way  over to the
other nipple to offer it some attention.

The older man eventually released his new toy and moved
downward,  swiping his tongue onto Tom's stomach and blowing,
watching the hairs stand  up as the slender form shivered. He
sucked large mouthfuls of pale skin  as he made his way along
Tom's torso.

Tom nearly bucked off the bench when a tongue stabbed into his 
bellybutton. His cock was hard and leaking, and he was trembling
with the need  for release. He looked down in shock and
disbelief as he felt  Chakotay's mouth detouring down one thigh
in a leisurely exploration. His  kneecap was suckled, then lips
skipped down his shin. A quick, shocking bite  to his instep
made his hips thrust in instinctive reaction. "Please  Chak," he
groaned.

Chakotay shifted to the other leg, licking around the ankle and
then  sucking a chain of faint marks along the pale limb on his
return trip to  Tom's cock. He was enticed by the gleaming
length, the scent of it  teasing his nostrils. He dipped his
head a little and probed behind the  Tom's balls with his
tongue, garnering another needy groan and thrust. He  ran his
mouth along the crepe-like skin of the sac, then wrapped his 
lips around the base of Tom's straining shaft, sucking his way
up one  side and down the other. His lips and tongue tingled
with the unfamiliar  feeling of the satin-sheathed rod and salty
taste of precum.

Tom knew his mouth was forming words, but he couldn't guess what 
language he was pleading in as he felt his cock finally encased.
He knew he  should be offering some guidance or advice, but all
he could do was beg  for more as Chakotay worked his lips and
tongue around his pulsing  manhood. He felt teeth graze the
underside of the crown and surged forward,  his hips lifting
uncontrollably. He was surprised to find the way  clear, the
older man's jaw and throat opening to let him glide further in. 
Then he felt hands on his hips, returning them to the bench as
Chakotay  backed off Tom's cock. He blew a cool stream against
the wet skin,  making Tom moan again. The heat of his lover's
mouth was even more shocking  when the dark head bent to take
him in once more. Soon Chakotay had one  dusky hand alternating
between squeezing the base of Tom's erection and  fondling his
balls, while that mouth kept moving on him, drawing him  closer
and closer to the edge.

Chakotay used his tongue to press the head of Tom's cock against
his  palate, running it over the ridges there and listening to
throaty sounds  of approval. He sank down a little more, keeping
one hand around the  base of the shaft so the engorged length
was completely encased. Then his  mouth was full of salty, musky
fluid as Tom started screaming. He  swallowed, backed off a
little and let the younger man pump his release into  Chakotay's
mouth. When the blond sank back with an exhausted sigh, he 
lapped up the semen that had spilled, licked his lips and raised
himself  to lean over the ivory body.

Tom was still panting, feeling as weak as a kitten. He wished at
that  moment that he could do what Chakotay had earlier, turn
over and offer  himself completely to his lover. But he
couldn't. Or more honestly, he  chose not to. Tom avoided what
he *knew* was a disappointed gaze until  he felt a hand lifting
his chin. He looked up into knowing, accepting  eyes. Chakotay
gave him a small shrug of understanding, then kissed him,  deep
and demanding. His lashes fluttered down as felt a hot, hard
cock  against his stomach for a handful of thrusts, then the
older man's  groan of release whooshed down his own throat.

Chakotay slid off and sank back down on his heels, cum still
dripping  from his spent penis. In a strange way he was glad
that Tom hadn't  reciprocated, but rather held back the way he
always seemed to. It was a  sharp and necessary reminder to
Chakotay that he and Tom weren't lovers.  Not truly. /It's just
as well. If I did succumb to the siren's call, I  would lose my
heart to someone who doesn't want it, or me, except as a 
few-days fuck buddy./ He nodded to himself, a little wistfully,
then  gathered up the slender limp form and stood.

Tom opened his eyes in surprise as Chakotay carried him back to
the  pool. "You're not going to throw me in freezing water, are
you?" he asked,  not entirely joking. /I'd certainly
understand./

"Of course not. That would blow my grade, pardon the pun."
Chakotay  chuckled and descended the steps into the still warm
liquid, propping Tom  against the steps. "I'm going to brush my
teeth and use the shower.  When you're done here, just call up
the bedroom. Everything through the  archway will stay the
same." He regarded the still dazed-looking blond.  "Are you
going to be okay?"

"Yeah, when I finally remember my name." He lifted one hand and
gave a  thumbs-up. "A plus, Cadet. You definitely aced your oral
exam."

"I had an excellent teacher. See you in fifteen." Chakotay
disappeared  through the archway.

Tom pushed himself off the steps and turned to float on his back
for a  few moments, recalling the day and wondering what might
have been if  he'd shown a little more courage, or trust. /Just
forget about it,  Tommyboy. You've gotten along just fine as an
exclusive top for fourteen  years. You certainly aren't going to
break that rule now. Especially since  the affair will be over
before you know it./ Tom moved to the steps,  called for the gel
and a toothbrush and started cleaning up, satiated but 
disturbed, wanting to be done and under the covers before
Chakotay  returned.

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

Nedal flung himself from his chair with a roar. His disbelief
had grown  with each word of the report from Ruta. He could not
believe that his  people were *pleased* with the Larat.
/Chakotay is no different than any  other creature bound under
the seal. He is still prey, despite his odd  nature. He is
nothing more than words. Pleasant sounding, but mere  puffs of
air./

But apparently the Rutali were simple-minded enough to be
beguiled by  them. The ebony-haired human had managed to spin a
compelling tale,  casting his failures in a more flattering,
even heroic light.

The Regent paced his spacious office, trying to stave off
another  explosion of rage. This news, he knew, would be a
relief to Milady and the  High Consul. And, if he were more
objective, he *should* feel the same.  He'd ignored Sisryn's
warnings as overexaggerations, but he had to  admit there could
be a political price to pay for bagging his elusive  golden
goband, Tom Paris.

The Rutali's teeth gritted as he recalled how the female,
Janeway, had  gotten Nedal off her ship and away from his
sky-eyed target. The Regent  had decided to end the roundtable
discussion after he realized that  Chakotay had blocked his
subtle attempts to point out the Commander's  weaknesses to the
fair-haired Lieutenant. His perfunctory but mandatory  apology
to Voyager's Captain was designed to segue into more intimate 
tête-à-têtes among the humans and Rutali---maybe even an
impromptu cocktail  hour. That would have given Nedal the
opportunity to proposition the  pilot, or if the human balked,
to put into play less diplomatic  arrangements.

Instead, he and his entourage had been culled like year-old
goband  calves, separated from the Federation ship's crew and
hustled into the  transporter for a hasty trip back to the
flagship. /Tom Paris is probably  again in the dark human's
hands./ Nedal clenched his own, imagining them  squeezing
Chakotay's neck just above the seal of Larat. Either that or 
ripping the circlet from the annoyingly self-contained man and 
bestowing it upon his golden one. But that was a futile flight
of fancy,  impossible to implement.

/At least while Chakotay is still considered *intriguing* by the 
prides./ Nedal's eyes narrowed as he stroked the Regent's seal
thoughtfully.  /If the Larat is shown to be truly unworthy, then
perhaps I could force  Milady to withdraw her support from the
Voyager Commander. Then my  intended Chosen, Paris, would be the
only acceptable substitute./

The golden gaze turned feral with glee. /I would not have to
plot, or  woo, or do anything at all to draw the goband to my
bed. And it would  not be for a measly day or two's hasty
enjoyment. The pilot would be the  Larat, and delivered into my
grasp in accord with the ancient  agreement. That pale flesh
could be mine for as long as an entire month./

He slowly walked to the desk. /Yes. It is not Tom Paris who must
be  made aware that the Larat is a fraud, but my own people./
Nedal licked his  lips with an anticipatory growl and sat down
once more, a new strategy  beginning to unfold in his mind.

TBC