The BLTS Archive - In the Shadows
First in the Jack series
by BratKatze (bratkatze@aol.com)

---

DISCLAIMER:  No infringement on the rights of Paramount is intended.
I'm only   playing with them for my own twisted amusement. No money
was made or will  be made from this or any other story in the series.
Voyager and her crew  do not belong to me, however much I wish they
did. Sadly, I can only  claim, the plot, Jackson Feeney, and the
twisted little muse I call Edgar  who spawned this and the series it
belongs to.

Archiving: Ask first please.

All warnings and disclaimers must be  maintained if you care at all
about the people who visit your site.

Buckle up children it's going to be a bumpy ride. This story and the
series it belongs to are not for the faint of heart. We are dealing
with  a relationship spiraling out of control into physical and sexual
abuse  and the steps along the way. Sometimes we walk blindly to our
own  destruction, sometimes we run, and sometimes we are led. It
happens  everyday to men, women, and children. For the lucky ones
there may be a  helping hand but for most there is only more darkness.

All of the stories  in this series will be rated NC-17 for mature
themes, violence,  consensual, and non-consensual m/m sex. If any of
these bother you, stop  now. If you are under 18 or the age of consent
in your area, legally you  should not be reading this series. Other
than warning you away I can't  stop you from reading but if you are
surfing the net looking for stories  with hot sex, kinks, or just to
shock yourself and your friends you are  not ready for this series and
you will be bored. I do not intended to  treat the issues herein
lightly but realistically, which means  graphically and honestly. If
the stories or the thread of the stories  bothers you, it probably
should. This is a make-believe world but art  mirrors   life and the
darkness is out there. If you dance too close to the edge,  sometimes
you fall into the darkness.

---

I haven't been to Sandrine's in a while. It's been hard, since
Kathryn  and I broke up. Well, not broke up exactly. We would have
needed to be  something  to   be broken up. Better to say since
Kathryn made it clear that all she  wanted from me was support and
friendship.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay."

That was it. Command decision. No arguments, no appeals. The Captain
has  spoken and I am expected to follow orders.

"I'm sorry, Chakotay."

After two brief months she deemed it over. I'm still not sure why.
She  cares for me. I see it in her eyes. But? The burdens of command?
Our  disparate personalities? Our separate insecurities? Did I touch a
chord  in her? Make her feel vulnerable? Make her feel something other
than Iron  Kate Savior of Voyager? I don't know. Whatever it was, it
is over. And I  have to accept that. There is no other option.

So here I am in my misery, alone, tallying a list of Voyager's
eligible  female population - finding none, and seriously wondering
what I am doing  here. I've avoided Sandrine's and the Resort as much
as possible. We  never made our affair public thankfully, but the crew
knew. Nothing was  ever said or acknowledged but they knew. I'd seen
the gossip and innuendo  mill at work during the last stages of the
Paris/Torres/Kim debacle. Even  without that as an example, we would
have kept it quiet. But I don't need  the pitying looks, hushed
voices, or false bright smiles I still see.

I'm here because of Neelix. Who, if all this is a charade - a plot to
draw  me   out from myself, is a much better actor and friend than
I've given him credit   for. He came to me this morning just as I was
finishing my coffee,  getting ready for my shift.

"Commander, may I talk to you?" He was nervous, fidgety.

I smiled to put him at ease. "Of course Neelix. What's on you mind?"
I  was expecting a culinary crisis or a new venture by our morale
officer, or  worse, advice for the lovelorn. Anything except what I
heard.

"It's Lieutenant Paris sir. I'm concerned about him." The words came
out in a rush, whispered as if he feared speaking them out loud.

"Tom? Is there a problem? Has he said anything? Is he having a
problem  working with B'Elanna? The Maquis giving him trouble?"

"No no. Tom hasn't said anything." Neelix looked down at his hands,
which  he was rapidly clenching and unclenching. "Tom, Lieutenant
Paris and I,  we  don't   talk much more." he whispered wistfully.

I smiled at him. "I thought I saw the two of you chatting up a storm
just  this morning over breakfast. You seem to be having a good time.
I recall  the two of you laughing." I smiled at myself. At some point
in time I had  taken to watching over Tom. He'd been the one dumped,
the one abandoned.  We shared an odd bond he and I. He was thrown over
for his best friend  and I for a starship. Somehow I think he
understood my situation better  than his own.

Both Tom and B'Elanna had become rather reclusive at first, after
their  rather public breakup. It was weeks before either was seen at
Sandrine's  or the resort, each preferring to lick their wounds in
private. B'Elanna  now came to Sandrine's with Harry.

"Yes, yes, you did. But it wasn't the same. We could have been
strangers,  sir. Our conversation was polite, distant. He's like that
with all his  friends, sir. Me, Nicolletti, Megan, Sam."

"Neelix after what happened you can't expect . . ."

"I understand that Commander. I know he's still grieving but. . . "

"But..."

"I don't care for the people he is associating himself with. There
I've  said it."

I'd heard vague rumors that Tom was curing his broken heart by
reverting  to his playboy personae. He was always the center of
attention much like  he'd been in the early days. Charming and
flirtatious, behaving  outrageously. "Neelix," I tried to reassure
him, "Tom's been through  quite an ordeal. Sometimes people need to
live on the edge prove to  themselves that they are still desirable."
I smiled as I said it though.  I had a hard time picturing Tom Paris
feeling anything but desirable. One  could almost hear the collective
sigh of anticipation that wafted through  the ship once word was out
he was on the market again.

"I know that Commander. But he's taken up a dangerous crowd."

Considering Tom's history I would have said he was the dangerous
crowd  but Neelix was clearly concerned. His heart was in the right
place and I  was certainly not going to step on it. So asked, "Who?"

The Talaxian looked left and right before he whispered "Jackson
Feeney"  with an air of gravest importance.

The name meant nothing to me other than it was a man. Tom Paris and a
man? I didn't think so. The one-man conqueror of Voyager's female
population? Our resident heartthrob? Our Libidinous Lothario? The man
who  pursued and wooed Torres? I didn't think so. I started to laugh
till I  saw Neelix's face. He was serious.

"All right. I'll check it out. And talk to Tom if necessary."

"Thank you Commander. I knew you'd understand."

Neelix's relief was palatable. He shook my hand and departed my table
as  if  a   great weight had been taken form him. His confidence in me
was gratifying  even if the need was, I felt, misplaced.

I watched Tom on the bridge. Nothing out of the ordinary. The same
outrageous   banter, the borderline flirtation with the Captain. The
same dumb jokes.  He even tried to bring in B'Elanna and Harry, but
she was still  uncomfortable and withdrawn and Harry burdened by guilt
only responded in  monosyllables. The Bridge dynamic had been
affected. We were not as  efficient as we used to be but Kathryn
insisted she was not going to  allow personal problems to interfere
with the running of her ship. When I  called her on wisdom of keeping
them all same shift, she reminded me we  were "a starship not a
nursery". They all tried hard to be professional  but it was Tom who'd
been dumped yet he seemed to have recovered the  quickest. Perhaps too
quickly, it suddenly occurred to me. Maybe Neelix  was right.

So here I am. In a dark corner of the bar watching Tom and seeing
nothing.  As   usual Tom is holding court at the pool table, several
women crowding  round him as he and Megan devastate Jenny and Freddie
Bristow in a game  of eight ball. His manner was as it always was.
Bright, flirtatious,  outrageous, inviting all to share in his magic.
It draws you to him. He  is the center of the room.

I happened to be glancing at the door when Feeney came in. Large, 
barrel-chested with small eyes and large hands. He was a member of
Tuvok's security detail so the name meant nothing to me. He was a
Fleeter  and I had not had much contact with him, a few away missions.
But I knew  him on sight and what I did know I did not like. He did
his job well but  he was petty, small minded, and certainly not
capable of thinking  creatively. He'd given the Maquis trouble in the
early days. I didn't  think he was very intelligent and he was not
pleasing to look at. I do  not usually base judgments on such criteria
but to put it plainly he gave  me the creeps. I certainly could not
see him and Tom moving in the same  circles. I began again to think
Neelix had sent me here to get me out of my cabin.

Feeney never went near Tom. I would have left Sandrine's but
something  made me stay. Perhaps it was the way Feeney stayed at the
bar watching  Tom from a distance. A good security man, unless you
were looking for him  you wouldn't even notice he was there. I watched
him as he watched Tom  while drinking, quite heavily. There was a look
on his face. I didn't  like it. It was  hungry,   possessive. It began
to bother me.

Tom knew Feeney was there the moment he walked in. I watched his body
language change. His movements became more sensual, fluid, as if he
were  on display, his manner brighter and more outrageous. He never
once  acknowledged Feeney's presence with so much as a glance but I
knew he  knew Feeney was there. That Feeney was watching and becoming
more visibly  aroused with each passing second.

After about an hour Tom went to the bar, ostensibly to order another
round. He passed close to Feeney who reached out a hand and grasped
Tom's  wrist, hard. I could see the chords of muscle tighten in
Feeney's arm as  he applied pressure. It must have hurt and I am
certain Tom would be  bruised there come tomorrow. I started forward
but Feeney released Tom  without a word and left the bar. I was still
approaching when Tom  signaled Sandrine for another  round   for his
table then quietly followed Feeney.

I was about to head back to my table when Sandrine caught my eye. Her
expression made me follow them. Her eyes were troubled, disapproving,
and  a little anxious.

I exited the bar and was about the exit the holodeck when I heard a
soft  thud. Not many people know this but there is much more to this
program  than Sandrine's. The entire quai on which the bar is found
has been  replicated with all it's atmospheric shadows and dark
passageways. If you turn left  upon   exiting the bar you can walk
down some cobblestone steps to one of the canals   that in the real
Marseilles lead to the ocean. Not many people wander  down here, most
come for the bar. The few that have, usually turn back  upon
encountering the other denizens of Marseilles Tom saw fit to  program,
rats and the rank over powering smell of fish. It fascinated me
however. The entire program was marvelous, a completely lifelike and
believable  recreation   programmed with flair and innovation. I'd
studied it in the hopes of  improving my own programs. I'd wanted to
recreate New Earth but . . .

I paused unsure of direction when the thud came again, followed by
whispered words and a groan. I hurried silently down the stairs and
along  the edge of the canal. Near a sloping embankment I spotted
them. Jackson  Feeney and Tom. They were just past an old stone
bridge. The light from  an old fashion  street   lamp cast a dim light
on them but lent me dark shadows for cover. I moved  silently forward
till I had a clear view of them. Feeney had Tom pinned  against the
stone of the bridge and was kissing him. Kissing? I have to  say
devouring was more the word. Feeney's mouth was moving over Tom's in
such a fashion that knew he was the one using his tongue. Feeney was
using his body to pin Tom still while his hands roved with impunity
over  Tom's body in a manner that could only be called greedy, while
at the  hips I could see him pressing an ever straining erection
against Tom.

Stunned, I was rooted to the spot. I wanted to cry out and stop the
assault but I couldn't. It wasn't that Tom wasn't fighting back nor
that  he seemed to welcome Feeney's touch. In truth, I was too
aroused. More aroused that  I've been in a long time and more aroused
than I've ever been at the  thought of a man. I am no prude. I do have
experience with both sexes,  but I found myself aching to be Feeney. I
wanted to be the body covering  Tom, touching him, pressing into him,
making him whimper. Sweet Spirits I  found myself wanting to fuck Tom
Paris.

As I watched, disgusted with myself yet unable to stop. Feeney's
hands  stopped their incessant roaming and moved to his waist, he
began to undo  his pants. Oh spirits they were going to do it right
here in from of me.  My own erection pulsed painfully against me. I
fought not to touch myself  knowing that I'd explode at the slightest
contact. I had to leave but I  couldn't.

Feeney's pants slipped from his hips and a great thick cock sprang
free.  For a moment the sight of his large hairy ass distracted me and
I thought  I'd keep my dignity. Then I noticed his hands traveling up
to Tom's  shoulders as he pushed Tom to his knees before him. As I
watched Feeney  grasped Tom's  hair   with one hand while guiding his
cock to Tom's mouth with the other. The  hand holding Tom's hair
tightened it grasp forcing Tom's head back. Tom's  eyes closed, his
mouth opened and Feeney pressed his dick to the open  lips.

My mouth was dry, my pulse racing. This couldn't be happening. My
body  was hot and cold and my knees weak. I leaned into the stone
bridge and  bit my fist to keep silent.

"Watch me." Feeney hissed and Tom's eyes opened. I watched as he took
the tip of Feeney's cock into his mouth, his lips curving around
the edges of the  head. Feeney closed his eyes and brought his hands
to back of Tom's head.  In one motion he eased his hips forward while
holding Tom's head in  place, forcing the length of his cock deeper
into Tom's mouth. Tom's  hands came up to steady himself on the hard
naked thighs while Feeney  fucked Tom's mouth hard and steady.

My own lips parted dreaming it was my length sliding back and forth
between Tom's lips. Me, in the velvety warmth of his mouth, my semen
running down  his throat.

Feeney was setting the pace but Tom seemed to have no trouble keep
up. I  watched the muscles of his mouth and throat work to take all
Feeney was  giving him. As the paced increased Feeney swore.

"Too soon, too fast, too fast, too  uuhhhh"

I watched Feeney come deep in Tom's mouth. His hands tightened in
Tom's  hair immobilizing Tom in place. The muscles in his arms
tightened; veins rising to the surface with the tightness of his
grip. Feneey's legs trembled as his  hips jerked forward and he
spasmed.

We came together he and I.

I watched as he withdrew, a slick almost impossibly long length.

For a moment he was still, looking down at Tom and the small smear of
semen glistening on Tom's lips. Tom met his gaze, then Feeney
backhanded  him  across   the face and onto the sloping embankment.

"That was too fast you stupid fuck. We're gonna have to do it again."

He fell on Tom pinioning him to the embankment. For a while they were
still. Tom trapped beneath Feeney's greater weight neither moving
while  Feeney recovered. There was no struggle on Tom's part. Even if
he had  indicated in any way that the attention was unwanted I don't
know if I  could have interfered. The violence of their union excited
me as it  repulsed me. To my shame I found my arousal already
returning. This was a  part of myself I'd never explored and its
implications disturbed me. I  was a gentle and considerate lover.
Almost too gentle Kathryn had once  told me. Why then did  I   feel
drawn by this violence? From whence this urge to dominate?

A grunt roused me from my reverie. Feeney's hands were tearing at
Tom's  clothes baring Tom's body to him. Those large hands moved
possessively  over Tom's body in a caress that was not a caress. When
Tom was nearly  naked beneath him, Feeney rolled Tom onto his stomach,
then moved to  kneel between Tom's legs. He drew Tom up at the hips
and moved to cover  him, his larger bulk hiding Tom from my glance.
After a moment he began  to move. I found myself shifting in the
shadows for a better view.

Feeney still wore most of his clothes. His loosened trousers lay
pooled about   him, exposing his naked butt as it rose and fell as he
pumped into Tom. Tom's arms were stretched easily above his head
held in place by one of Feeney's massive hands at the wrists. The
other of Feeney's arms was  around Tom, near the waist raising Tom
slightly to provide a smoother,  easier angle of entry for Feeney's
cock. The pace was slower this time.  The thrusts of the hips more
deliberate, yet fluid; the massive thigh  muscles bunching and
contracting. Feeney's lower torso the only movement  between them. I
found myself entranced by the point of contact, at the  barely visible
mound of thick dark hair at the base of Feeney's cock  pressing
against Tom's  paleness.   The thick, ruddy cock itself, moving in and
out impaling Tom who was held  immobile as Feeney took his pleasure
slowly, completely. Each thrust  confirming who was in charge. Who was
dominant. Who was in control and  still clothed and who was bared nude
for the other's pleasure.

They fucked without a sound. No tender words or soft endearments.
Just  Feeney's harsh ragged breath and grunts which came faster and
faster in  rhythm with the movement of his hips and the soft
occasional noise of  skin  to   skin. Tom was completely passive and
open to Feeney, allowing himself to  be used and taking nothing from
the encounter. Only when he was near  completion did Feeney's hand
move from where he circled Tom's waist to  between Tom's legs. Tom
cried out once thrashing against Feeney who,  bellowing, jerked  hard 
against him.

Again as I watched it was me I saw. It was me imprisoning Tom and
taking  my pleasure in his beautiful body. My smooth bronze skin
holding him in  place. My body being welcomed into his. My cry of
ecstasy as I emptied  into him. My sated body that slumped onto him.
My harsh breath in his  ear. My weight on him. His body calling my
mine master.

For the second time that night I came in the shadows.

For minutes they lay there, Feeney shuddering in Tom, still pressing
Tom  beneath him. Then they got up. Feeney first. Drawing up his pants
and  tucking   himself in. He stood for a moment gazing down at Tom
who rolled onto his  back. Spirits he was beautiful. Slim and golden
in the lamp light. Feeney  reached and pulled Tom to him. Pressing the
nearly nude body to his and  kissing him. Again his hands canvassed
Tom's body. His fingers traced the  faint bruise forming where he'd
struck Tom, then he kissed it. He  whispered something in Tom's ear
and Tom nodded. Tom knelt, removed his  shoes and then kicked away
what remained of his pants. Feeney's hand  strayed briefly, resting on
Tom's thigh before he removed his shirt and  gave it to Tom. I got the
feeling he wanted to keep Tom nude before him  but thought better of
it. As Feeney was shorter than Tom, the shirt  barely reached Tom's
hips so the curve of that beautiful ass played hide  and seek with
light. Together they walked back in the direction they had  come. Tom
bruised and limping slightly but whether from being barefoot on  the
cobblestones or from the sex I couldn't tell. I pulled deeper into
the shadows as they passed. Tom's eyes  as   they passed me were
serene almost blank. Already Feeney's hands were reaching   for him.
They headed toward Sandrine's entering a door I'd never seen  before
and disappeared.

Which left me stained and alone on the wharf.

They'd left what remained of Tom's clothing. The pants near the canal
where he'd kicked them and the ruined shirt on the sloping embankment.
After a few moments I moved forward and picked up the shirt. It smelt
of  Tom and I  buried my face in it.

I heard the footsteps too late. When I looked up Sandrine was already
watching me. A look of disappointment and disgust on her face as she
noticed the stains on my pants.

Caught, I blushed.

"They are gone. Oui?"

"Ye  . . .Yes" My mouth was dry. My blood pounded in my ears. "They
went back   to the bar." I explained.

She looked pointedly at the shirt in my hands.

"They went in a side door near the stairs. I've never seen it before."

"Merde."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Monsieur Fe'nay will be at it all night then."

"But he's already  . . ."

"Stop. I do not want to know. That man is a bull."

"Sandrine, what's going on?"

She looked at me again. The shirt in my hands, the stains. "You just
want   him   too."

"No. I . . ."

She raised brow at me. A gesture much like Tuvok but completely hers.
Completely French. Did I want Tom Paris? Obviously I did. When did
that  happen? I've never wanted a man this much before.

She stood watching me a moment assessingly, her lips pursed. "Mayhaps
for you it is more."

"More what Sandrine?"

"You tell me monsieur. When you . . ." she gestured at my pants. I
blushed. She did not. "What did you think? What did you dream?"

"I don't know. That it was me holding Tom. Me, making love to him."

"Ah."

"Ah what?"

"Faire l'amour is not a phrase in Monsieur Fe'nay's vocabulary. For
him it is simply fuck."

A thought struck me. "He hit Tom."

"I'm not surprised. It's not unusual."

"He's done so before?"

"Oui. Sometimes often, sometimes not at all. It depends on how much
he drinks,  how his day went. In general he likes it rough."

"That's intolerable. Tom is senior officer. At the very least it's
gross  insubordination."

"You would do the same."

"No! I wanted Tom tonight yes. But I don't want to hurt him. Hell I
didn't even know I was attracted to him. I've never really been
attracted  to men."

"I do not think so Cheri."

"Sandrine, right now none of this is making any sense and I'm not
going  to argue my sexual preferences with you especially when all the
evidence  proves me wrong. But I do want to know what's going on. Why
did Tom allow  Feeney to strike him and how long has this been going
on."

For a moment her eyes clouded with sadness. Then she shrugged. "I do
not know why and it has been going on too long. If I knew how, I
would stop it. I  hoped it would end with her but that was a mistake."

"You mean this was going on before Tom and B'Elanna . . ."

"Way before. On and off, Oui. Sometimes more, sometimes less, it
depends.  Of late it has been more. Monsieur Fe'nay is good at what he
does."

"But Tom wants this, Sandrine." A sudden thought chilled me, "Please
tell  me I just didn't, didn't . . . um" I looked down at myself,
"while  watching a rape."

"No Commander. It may be many things but no, it is not rape of the
body."

"Then what is it?"

"I do not know. Thomas is lost at the moment. He was with her because
of  her strength. It is something that he needs but it was not enough
to keep  them together. Like many people he has confused force with
strength."  Again she looked at me. "You are strong."

I step back under that gaze.. "Sandrine, Tom and I have a history and
it's not all good. I don't think he's interested in me and I'm . . " I
paused not at all sure what I was any more.

"Tell me Commander, did you want him beneath you? Did you want to
feel  his skin on yours? Did you want to press yourself into him? Did
you want  to  spill yourself in him?"

The images were too powerful, I closed my eyes and felt my groin
tighten.  I started to count the number of starboard nascelles.

"Eh bien more cher, I think you want him."

"Wanting is not enough Sandrine."

I'd wanted Kathryn and look what that got me.

Sandrine came forward and grasped my chin in her hand forcing my eyes
to  hers. For a long time she gazed into them. What she saw, what she
was  looking   for I don't know. "Perhaps," she mused aloud, "perhaps
it will be enough  for both of you. Come, I bring you clean pants, we
will open a bottle of  Chateau Picard and discuss the disposal of
Monsieur Fe'nay."

She released my chin and turned to walk back to the bar. Helplessly I
followed her from the shadows of the quai into the light.

---

The End