The BLTS Archive - Depths of Darkness
Second in the Jack series
by BratKatze (bratkatze@aol.com)

---

WARNING! What follows is the sequel to 'In the Shadows'. It takes
place  roughly one week after Chakotay found out about Tom and Jack
Feeney. I'm  sure we all suspect what Jack sees in Tom but what does
Tom see in Jack?  This was supposed to answer the question. It does
partially,  unfortunately Jack took over the story.

What follows is graphic, violent, and should be disturbing. It
intended  it to be. Often sexual violence is treated with a blasé
attitude that  belies the ugliness of the act. What you read here will
be graphic but I  hope it's not gratuitous or glorified. Please
proceed with caution. If  you pass this on to someone, keep the
disclaimer attached. Many people  are disturbed by or have issues with
the acts and ideas portrayed here.  Such concerns are valid and it
would be a disservice to not give a reader  clear warning of the
content.

That said, proceed at your own risk into the world of Tom and Jack
Feeney. When you're through, if you are still talking to me - drop me
a  note on how I should kill him. Jack needs to die and Jack will die.
Chakotay is just going to have to pickup the pieces first.

I'm rating this NC-17 but even that might not be enough.  I have now
given up all pretense to being a nice girl.

All Characters from Voyager belong to Paramount, no copyright
infringement is intended. Feeney is mine, who else's would he be?

---

Tom was exhausted and wanted a shower. It had been one hell of a long
senior staff meeting. It was a times like this, after having gone over
administrative  minutia, in nauseating detail that Tom was thankful he
was only a pilot.  Just point the ship and fly. By the time he reached
his cabin, Tom still  didn't understand the reason for the new shift
rotations. As Chakotay had  gone on  and  on, he'd run over the
schedules in is head, partly to keep awake and  partly  to  keep some
wise-ass remark from slipping his lips. He always said  something
stupid when he was nervous and being trapped opposite Harry and
B'Elanna for over three hours made him very nervous indeed. The
nearest  Tom could tell,  the  only result for him was that he and
Jack Feeney would have one segment of  common free time, several hours
occurring roughly once in seven earth  days. Given the crew compliment
and rotations it was the furthest apart  two people could be kept on
Voyager. On the other hand he and Chakotay's  shifts and rotations
were nearly identical. Maybe he should now start  spending quality
time with the big man.

It was stupid of course to think that the changes had anything to do
with   him.  As Chakotay had put in it the meeting, the crew needed to
be able to work  as  a  single team. They'd all been working the same
rotations for the longest  time that some crew members only saw each
other at shift change if at  all. Should someone be incapacitated it
might be very difficult  integrating an unknown replacement at highly
critical moment. It all  sounded rather a bit Borgish to him. Maybe
Seven had trapped Chakotay in  a Jeffries tube and assimilated him.
The Commander and Seven, now they  would be a couple. Much better than
Seven and Harry. Of course Harry was  now with B'Elanna. Not that Tom
minded really, losing B'Elanna to Harry.  Those two were perfect for
each other. From day one there had been a  spark between them. It had
only been Harry's devotion to Libby's memory  that kept them apart.
They were meant to be. In the back of  his  mind he'd always known
there's be no future for him and B'Elanna, he just  should never slept
with her. But he had needed her so very much then. It  had been
selfish and foolish of him. He never really understood  B'Elanna's
needs and when the time came to part he just hadn't handled it  very
well and now he probably lost his only friends.

There was noise at the door just he was about to step in the shower.
Someone was keying in his access codes. It had to be Jack as Harry no
longer came around. Tom had given the codes to Jack a while back,
though  if he'd really wanted them, as a Detail Chief, Jack could have
gotten  them. It didn't  matter.  Tom hadn't engaged any locks
tonight. Once he heard the rotation changes  he knew Jack would find
him tonight. Which was why he hadn't gone to  Sandrine's. She didn't
like Jack and sometimes it made things. . .  difficult.

Tom left the bathroom door open and stepped into his shower, deciding
to  splurge his rations and run an old fashion water one. The hot
water  soothed his aching muscles better the sonic one ever did.
Vaguely he  could hear Jack moving about his cabin, touching things,
replicating a  drink, preparing the bed. Removing his clothes.

Soon there was a movement at the bathroom door then Jack slowly
pushed  opened the shower curtain. The hot steam swirled past him. His
eyes swept  over Tom, then he stepped back to leaned against the door
jam. Watching,  silently sipping a drink, naked and fully erect as Tom
continued his  shower.

Hands trembling slightly Tom began soaping his arms, chest, legs.
Running  his hands down his stomach. Arching his back and letting the
soapy spray  run  down.  Down his shoulders, chest, flat belly, past
his hips, the water pooling  in droplets in his golden hair.
Displaying himself for his watcher. A  draft from the open door
chilled Tom's body and he shivered.

Never removing his eyes from Tom, Jack sipped his drink. When he was
finished,  he set the glass aside and reached for the tube of
lubricant. Slowly his  eyes traveled over Tom's body taking in the
slick, slightly soapy skin,  the long lean form, slim hips, the soft
golden hair, the half closed  eyes. As Tom ran soapy hands over his
own body, Jack applied the gel, his  hand making slick moist sounds as
he ran it over his cock.

When he was ready, Jack paused a moment in the doorway. Like a wall
between Tom and the open bathroom door he stood perfectly still, legs
slightly  spread,  his body powerful in its nakedness; his thick,
lubricated cock jutting  before him.

Without a word Jack moved forward to join Tom in the shower.

Tom shivered as Jack brushed against him. Though they were both nude,
he  was the one naked and vulnerable. Jack was a rock. Clothed or not
he was  always  in  control, always in charge; the sheer force of his
presence belying their  heights. Perhaps it was just that his body was
more physically developed  with strong muscular arms and legs, or that
his chest with its  thick  curling dark hair was so broad. Whatever it
was, Jack always struck Tom  as invulnerable.

Slowly Tom turned, presenting his back to Jack. The stall was big
enough  for two but Jack moved forward till his chest pressed against
Tom's back,  his breath harsh at Tom's ear. Tom closed his eyes as
Jack's arms came  around his waist and large, callused hands began
moving over him. They  glided over his smooth soapy skin touching him
everywhere; waist, chest,  groin, inner thigh. They roughly fondled
his cock and cupped his scrotum.  Thick blunt fingers twisted his
nipples, touched him at will. The hands  ran over every inch of  him
marking him as Jack's, pressing him against Jack, telling him that his
body was now Jack's.

Then Jack stepped back. For a moment Tom stood there trembling, then
Jack's hands were at his waist pressing him down slightly. Obediently
Tom  opened his legs bending them slightly at the knees. Tom felt
Jack's hands  slide from his hips to his ass and strong fingers parted
him. The slick  head of Jack's cock pressed against him. Tom could
feel the warmth and  pulse of it alive against his skin. Then Jack was
moving forward.

The slick hard length pressed in, invading Tom's body and Tom fought
to  relax and take it. All of Tom's being became focused on the
intrusion. On  the warm penetrating flesh forcing its way into him.
Hard, relentless,  parting him,  and  leaving him complete vulnerable
to Jack.

Halfway buried in Paris, Jack surged forward embedding himself
completely  and crushing Paris between him and the tile. Paris had
been ready for him  but not completely. Jack felt some membranes tear
and the warmth of blood  encompass his cock. Paris remained still,
body trembling and his for use.  Jack moved  his  hands upward, up
Paris' sides, to just under his arms. Firmly he  stretched  the  arms
out holding them in place and pressing himself completely against
Paris. Planting his feet firmly he began to pump.

Tom bit his lip as Jack began to move. His entire world reduced to a
few  sensations, the pain in his arms as Jack gripped him, the massive
hard  body that covered him pressing him against the tiles, the flat
tiles  against his chest, the grunts and breaths at his ear, and the
movements  of Jack's cock. Sliding in and out, slick with blood and
lubricant slowly  taking its  pleasure.  Everything he was reduced to
the movement in his body, the constant  parting and claiming. There
was nothing else, no Voyager, no B'Elanna or  Harry, no pressures, no
responsibility, no past, no future, no  expectations. Just that thick
cock moving within him taking what it  wanted and demanding nothing
from him. Stretching and tearing him,  telling him who and what he was
with each rough stroke. The cock and the  body above him, covering
him, pressing into him, doing as wanted with  him. Using him. Making
him and all his disappointments disappear.

Too soon it was over. The strokes coming harder, faster. Jack's body
lifted slightly to better jerk his hips forward. The pain in Tom's
arms  disappeared. All he knew were the harsh breaths at his ear
echoing the  violent thrusts of Jack's hips slamming him into the
tiles. Harder and  harder Jack pushed, burying himself deeper and
deeper till with a cry he  crashed into Tom  spilling  himself.
Crushed breathless against the tiles Tom felt the Jack's warm  semen
fill him as the powerful muscles twitch in climax. For a few  moments
Tom drifted, lost in the sensations. The warmth and fullness of
semen, blood, and cock within him. The hard torso leaning full into
him,  pressing him, making  it  difficult to breath. The spray from
the shower still falling on his face.  The slight scratch of Jack's
dark hair on the soft skin of his lower back  and  ass.  The smell of
Jack's warm breath slightly sour with drink as it brushed against  his
cheek.

Then Jack withdrew, and slowly the world returned. Tom would have
collapsed under the weight of the emptiness but for Jack's hand on his
arm. Tom let  Jack  shut the shower and lead him into the bedroom. The
covers and pillows had   been  removed from the bed. Jack roughly
pushed Tom onto his back on the bed  and  for  a moment looked down on
him before going to the replicator and ordering  another drink. Still
damp from the shower Tom shivered in the cool air;  waiting, while
Jack finished his drink. Then Jack was climbing on the bed  and onto
Tom, covering Tom's body with his, pressing Tom to him.  His  mouth
moved over Tom's, his tongue aggressively thrusting inward. With  the
first nip of Jack's teeth, the world began to fade away again.

---

Jackson Feeney awoke with a throbbing erection. For a few seconds he
lay  where he was, disorientated, then he remembered. He was in
Paris's cabin,  in Paris's bed, the lieutenant still sleeping next to
him. He'd been  dreaming. Dreaming of that first time, in Sandrine's.
It had been some  time during those first few months in the Delta
Quadrant. Tuvok had just  assigned four of the former Maquis to his
security detail. Criminals the  lot of them. No arguments or pleas had
been entertained. The decision had  been made and  Feeney  would just
have to accept his new orders. He'd been incensed, almost  crossed the
line of insubordination with Tuvok. Called Janeway several  names,
none of them complimentary. The Vulcan had listen impassively,  noted
his concerns,  and  then told Jack the conversation never happened and
that his record was  still clean provided he followed orders.

Jack had left and went to Sandrine's with a serious desire to bust
heads.  A bunned one in particular. What he found instead was Paris.

The lieutenant was alone, practicing shots at the pool table when
Jack  walked in. It Jack a moment to recognize him, he still didn't
know  everyone on the ship. Tom Paris, the former Maquis, murderer and
traitor,  Janeway's little pet. Oh he would do nicely. So Jack stayed
at the bar,  drank, and watched Paris play. Somewhere along the line
Jack stopped  thinking about how good it would be to smash his fist
into Paris and  started thinking to how good it would be to stretch
Paris beneath him on  the pool table and plow him. Fly boy was really
quite handsome when you  thought about it. Blond, slim, muscular,
there was a sensual quality  about him. So Jack moved from the bar and
started toward the pool table.  Paris halted his game and watched Jack
approach. His blue eyes widened at  Jack's evident erection but he
said nothing. Even if Paris had it  probably wouldn't have stopped
Jack. Here was a beautiful body  in  a red command uniform and he was
going to have it.

When he was close enough Jack reached out, running a hand down
Paris's  arm. The lieutenant shivered but didn't move away. Jack
walked around and  stood behind Paris, moving just close enough to
brush his erection  against him. Paris drew in a breath but again said
nothing. Jack placed a  hand on each of Paris' forearms, then ran them
lightly up and down while  pressing his  hardened  cock into Paris.
Paris' eyes closed, his breath became ragged, and his  lips parted as
he licked them. Jack pulled the pool cue from the  trembling fingers
letting it clatter onto the floor. When the bartender  came screeching
around the bar he deleted the holographic bitch and  engaged the
privacy lock.

Firmly he bent Paris over the table. Using his utility knife Jack
slashed  and ripped the uniform till Paris was bared waist to thigh
then spread  his legs. Jack loosened his pants and pressed himself
against Paris.  Using only his  spit  and fingers he managed to work
about half his cock in before climaxing.

It wasn't the most satisfying fuck but it relieved some of his anger
and  the semen was a perfect lubricant for the next time. For the next
four  hours he repeatedly fucked Paris on that pool table. Deciding
he'd  probably be cashiered for the first fuck, Jack set out to enjoy
himself.  Only when he was utterly spent, his anger and lust vented on
the body  beneath him did Jack withdraw leaving the bleeding and
bruised Paris to  sink to the floor in silence. Jack adjusted his
uniform disengaged the  privacy lock and walked to his cabin to await
his arrest. It never came.

He'd been using Paris on and off ever since. Taking the lieutenant
when  he wanted or needed. There'd been that period when Paris had
been with  Torres that he'd stayed away but in general it was on his
terms. Or so  he'd thought. At any point in time Paris could have had
him arrested or  filed charges. Jack had no illusions. If Janeway ever
found out about  them it was over. It wouldn't matter how long they'd
been together, or  that Paris seem to want this, it would be over and
it would not be Paris  in the brig. And Paris did seem to want Jack.
Even from the beginning.

It now suddenly occurred to him that Paris might be taking something
from  their encounters. Jack didn't know what, but it was something he
hadn't  intended to give. Their union was meant to be on his terms,
with Paris  allowed only what Jack wanted to give him. But Paris had
been taking  something, it was in his eyes so carefully blank and in
his silences; and  that was wrong. Jack suddenly needed to reestablish
control, prove to  Paris who was the master, remind him who was on top
fucking whose ass raw  at will.

Paris was still sleeping as Jack rose from the bed. Curled half on
his stomach  and side, he was too exhausted to sense Jack move from
the bed. Though he  was angry and aching with need Jack paused to
watch Paris sleep, his eyes  lingering over the soft rise and fall of
his chest and the marks of last  night's sex. Tom Paris was his and
had been since that first night at  Sandrine's. Jack didn't understand
it but no one was going to get between  them, not Torres, not Janeway,
not Voyager, not anybody. Not even Paris.

It his bruises, no one else's Paris bore, a faint one on his cheek
and  near the lips, more still on his arms where Jack had held him in
place,  pressing tight while he filled Paris with cock. It was the
imprint of  Jack's hands and fingers at Paris's waist, made whilst
Jack held him and  simply, blindly, fucked him. Driving into Paris
hard and fast. Hard  enough for skin to slap and blood to flow.Just
holding him and pumping,  pumping, pumping till the climax came
quickly and explosively driving  Paris from his knees to lie flat on
the carpet.

And it was Jack's semen staining Paris, drying with blood on his ass
and  on his thighs. A sticky mess that testified to the number of
times Jack  had filled Paris that night.

And would fill him again. This time Paris would know and acknowledge
who  was on him, in him, claiming him. Jack reached down to gather
several of  the pillows and placed them next to Paris' back just at
the hips.  Carefully he rolled Paris unto the pile. Still sleeping,
Paris lay before  him completely exposed, vulnerable, and demanding to
be fucked.  Jack  parted Paris' legs.  The  anus winked at him, red
and swollen. Sex would be painful but Paris would  be oh, so tight.
Erection throbbing painfully Jack slathered on lubricant  and climbed
onto the bed. Kneeling before Paris he guided his cock into  position.
Lifting the hips slightly he pressed into the swollen entry and  began
pushing forward. In his sleep Paris groaned and tried to shift away
from the intrusion. Legs lifted and spread Paris had no leverage and
Jack  pushed deeper. With a whimper Paris' eyes opened and seeing Jack
he tried  to writhe away. Jack tightened his grip on Paris's hips and
surged  forward heedless of the already bleeding and damaged tissue,
his cock  serving as notice not to fight or struggle. For a long time
they lay  still. Jack leaned over to kiss Paris. When Paris refused to
open his  mouth Jack slid his hips back and  forced  them violently
forward. Paris cried out and looking into Jack's eyes  allowed Jack's
tongue into his mouth.

"Jack, stop.  It . .  it hurts." Whispered softly against Jack's
lips, it  was the first words Paris spoke to him that night.

Very slowly Jack raised himself off Paris, pushing himself up with
his  hands. For a moment he was still and looked into Paris' eyes.
They were  clear, filled with pain, and fully conscious of who was
over him.

"Jack, please."

But Jack Feeney did please. Very deliberately Jack began to move,
thrusting  at the hips, raping Tom Paris. He lowered himself once more
to completely  cover Paris, his mouth swallowing the ragged moans and
softer cries.

Jack took his time. He wasn't going to rush climax. This was the best
fuck of the night. No longer completely passive Paris writhed beneath
him  ineffectually trying to escape the painful lesson dispensed by
thrusts of  Jack's cock into him. Jack pressed his body into Tom,
completely covering   him,  touching him as much as possible so that
Tom couldn't deny who was on  him,  who  was in him, whose cock
impaled him and held him prisoner, who was taking  his pleasure in his
body, whose lips and teeth were marking him, whose  hands had the
right to touch and fondle. To whom he belonged and to whom  he could
not deny his body.

Jack came quietly, staring into Tom's eyes, shuddering only a few
moments  before collapsing.

For what seemed like hours Tom lay trapped, helpless under the weight
of  Jack's slumped body, with Jack's breath on his neck, Jack's sweat
and  saliva drying on in his skin. Jack's withering cock still within
him.

Jack had the chrono set two hour before the beginning of his shift.
Enough time shower and get back to his cabin for a change of uniform.
Groaning he raised himself off Paris smearing a thick trail of semen
and  blood inside one thigh and headed to the shower to wash the
sweat, semen,  and blood from his own body. The pilot had more ration
allocations than  he did, so he might as well use them. When he
returned to the bed Paris  was as he left him. On his back, hips
raised by the pillows, legs spread  open, stained, looking deliciously
used and violated. For brief instant  Jack considered taking a vid to
commemorate the night but decided against  it. You could never be too
careful. All he needed was for Tuvok to find  the clip and his career
along with the best fuck in his life was history.

Smiling to himself he bent and kissed Paris' lips. "See you in a
week,  Tom." he whispered. When he got no response Jack grasped Paris'
chin  forcing the blue eyes to his. Slowly Tom nodded.

Feeney smiled and left the dermal regenerator just within Paris'
reach.  He could afford to be generous. He was again in control.

By the time Jack left the cabin, Tom still hadn't moved.

---

The End