The BLTS Archive - Red Alert
Seventh in the Harem Boy series
by Lianne Burwell (lburwell@adan.kingston.net)

---

Tom Paris rolled over in bed, drifting in that lovely haze that
exists between sleeping and waking on those days when waking is a
choice, not a necessity. He snuggled in closer to his husband,
Chakotay, who had oh-so- kindly arranged the schedule so that their
days off coincided. There were some perks to being married to the
first officer.

Besides the really hot sex, that is.

Tom was felt Chakotay stir next to him, and smiled. A lazy morning,
with several bouts of that hot sex, followed by lunch in bed sounded
good. Maybe some time on the holodeck, and an evening of pool at
Sandrine's. Suddenly, Tom tensed. Something didn't feel right.

"Wassit?" Chakotay asked, still sleep befuddled, but obviously
feeling the change in Tom's manner. Tom frowned, trying to pin down
the feeling.

"We're maneuvering. Sudden changes in direction." Inertial dampers
prevented the average crew-member from feeling those sorts of changes,
but a good pilot (and Tom was the best) could *sense* these movements.
It was one of the things that *made* them good pilots.

Chakotay sat up in the bed, and Tom pushed himself up onto his elbows.
Chakotay was obviously considering calling the bridge, when the red
alert started blaring. The red alert was followed almost immediately
by an explosion, which rocked the ship enough that the inertial
dampers couldn't compensate in time.

When Tom recovered, he was on his back on the floor, Chakotay on top
of him. While he usually enjoyed being in that sort of position, this
wasn't the right time for it. They both staggered to their feet,
heading for the closet and their clothes.

"Chakotay to the bridge."

The response was almost immediate, but unusually fuzzed by static.
"We're a little busy right now, Commander."

Another blast nearly took Tom off his feet, but he managed to brace
himself and ride out the movement. A thud and curse behind him said
that Chakotay hadn't been so lucky.

"So we noticed. We can be there in five minutes."

Briefly, they heard the Captain calling orders to both Tuvok and the
helm before she answered. "Good. We could use the two of you."

"Chakotay, out."

By this point, Tom was half-dressed. He started tossing pieces of
uniform to Chakotay, who pulled them on as fast as he could. Once
fully dressed, they headed for the door.

Only Chakotay slammed right into it, and Tom into him.

"Oh, great," Tom said, picking himself up off the floor. "Try the
override."

Chakotay opened the panel next to the door, and punched the override
code. Nothing happened. He grabbed the manual lever, but it refused
to budge. He growled, and slapped his communicator.

"Chakotay to the bridge."

The response was even more loaded with static than before. "Where are
you?"

"The door to our quarters won't open, even with the manual override.
Can you transport us?"

They could dimly hear the sound of a question being asked and
answered, but couldn't understand the words.

"Sorry. The transporters are having trouble. You'd better just sit
tight."

"Understood. Chakotay, out."

Tom threw himself on the couch with a groan. "This is ridiculous. The
ship is under attack, and we're stuck here." Another blast knocked
him off the couch. He pulled himself back up and looked out their
viewport (after all, rank doth have its privileges).

From their angle, they could see that there were at least two ships
attacking them. A moment later, figuring out vectors in his head,
Tom upped that total to three.

From a theoretical point of view, it was quite interesting. Usually,
during an attack, Tom was on the bridge at the helm, most of his
attention focused on his display and the helm controls. And even if
he did look up at the main viewscreen, it was designed to filter out
a lot of unnecessary information. From their quarters, though, they
could see the shimmer of phaser blasts hitting Voyager's shields, the
force spreading along the shields, dissipating away from the ship. It
was both a scary sight, and a fascinating one.

Then a phaser beam leapt away from Voyager, zeroing in on one of the
attacking ships. The ship disappeared in an explosion, quickly
extinguished as all the air on the other ship was consumed by the
flames. Tom gave a cheer, but next to him Chakotay breathed a small
prayer. Tom gave him a look of 'are you nuts?'.

"Just because their ship is attacking us, doesn't mean everyone on it
wished us harm," Chakotay explained. "Everyone on that ship probably
left someone behind who will grieve. A parent, spouse, child..."

Tom felt the small thrill of victory go cold. "I never thought of it
that way. It's... easier, just viewing it as a ship, crewed by
faceless beings, without considering *who* they are."

Chakotay nodded. "A lot of people feel that way. *They* probably feel
that way. But someone should remember. After we are in a battle, I
usually find a few minutes to perform a ceremony for the dead and the
living."

Tom thought about it for a moment. Looking back, he realized that
while he had never wondered why, Chakotay had usually disappeared
for an hour after the end of a shift where a battle had been fought.
"Would you mind if I joined you from now on?" he asked, a little
tentative.

Chakotay smiled. "I'd like that a lot."

They turned back to the viewport, just in time to see a phaser blast
heading straight towards them. Chakotay immediately tackled Tom,
knocking them both to the floor in front of the couch. The ship shook
again. They poked their heads back up, just in time to see that last
of the blast energy dissipating along the ship's shields. Chakotay
gave a little laugh.

"Sorry about that."

"Don't worry," Tom said with a wave of the hand. "I *like* being
tackled to the floor by you. Remember?"

Chakotay gave him a small leer in response, then sat down on the
couch. He reached out a hand to grab Tom, and Tom suddenly found
himself on the couch, between Chakotay's legs and leaning back against
him. He relaxed back against the broad chest, and sighed as arms
wrapped around his chest. He let his head fall back onto a shoulder.
In one corner of his mind, he noted that Chakotay had let one leg drop
over the edge of the couch to brace against the floor in case another
jolt tried to dislodge him.

For a while, they just watched the flash of lights, and the dizzying
movement of the stars outside the viewport. A couple of times,
Chakotay tried to comm the bridge, but static was the only answer.
Somewhere in the system, something had been damaged, and until it was
fixed, they were stuck, incommunicado. Tom sighed, fingers twitching
as the ship maneuvered again.

"You want to be on the bridge, don't you." It wasn't a question.

 "Yeah. It's not just that I'm the best pilot on board, which I am..."
Chakotay made a grunt of agreement. It wasn't ego, it was the simple
truth, proven in simulator tests and re-life situation. "I just don't
like being stuck, unable to do anything about it. Sometimes I wonder
how you deal with it."

"Deal with what?"

"Well, if we were on the bridge, I'd be at the helm. No time to think,
just react. But you have to sit in your chair, keep an eye on displays
and make suggestions, but it's the captain who gives the orders. You
have to be ready in case she *can't* give the order, or misses seeing
something. Of course, you do provide *great* support. Sometime it
helps, just knowing you're there. But I think I'd go *nuts* in
your place."

"No ambition to be a first officer, huh?"

Tom shuddered. "No way. I want to be a pilot. That's where I'm happy.
Maybe I'll eventually move to development, and help design better
engines, better ships, for me to pilot. That was always a big
disappointment for my dad. He wanted me to be another Admiral Paris,
like him, and his father, and his uncle and his grandfather and...
well, you get the idea."

"Family traditions. My father wanted me to be a holy man, so I headed
in the opposite direction as fast as I could. It took his death to
turn me around again, then being swept into the Delta Quadrant to
firm up that role."

"Ship's counselor slash chaplain."

"In a way. I'm still not a holy man, nor do I intend to be, but I
have a greater respect for my people's beliefs now, and, I hope, a
greater respect for *other* people's beliefs."

"That's why everyone looks for you as an advisor. A confessor, too.
Hell, a father figure." Tom paused. "You'd make a great father.
Have you ever considered having kids?"

---

Chakotay was a little surprised at the question. Tom had tensed, ever
so slightly, in his arms on asking the question. Chakotay thought
hard about it.

"Well... I'd be lying if I said no. I was raised as part of a large
family, and there was always the expectation that I would marry and
have kids. But after a while, I didn't think about it much - and not
just because I married a man. My brothers and sisters all had large
families, so I have plenty of nieces and nephews to satisfy my
paternal urges with. Not to mention that seeing them at their worst
told me that I wouldn't have the patience for it. But if you ever
told me that *you* wanted kids, I'd say yes without any hesitation.
Do you want kids?"

Tom snorted. "Not really. I'm an only son, and my father was an only
son. Even before I hit puberty, I was already getting the lectures
about how it was my duty to marry and have sons to carry on the Paris
name. Hell, I was getting them practically until the day I went on
trial, and was sentenced to Auckland. My dad even offered several
times to find me an 'appropriate' wife who would let me do what I
wanted, as long as I fathered children on her. Let me tell you, the
idea of marrying a woman just to be a brood mare turned my stomach.
No, I don't really plan on having kids, if only to annoy my father."

Chakotay also found the idea distasteful. A marriage should be a
partnership, where children were only conceived if both members were
in agreement. "And if you change your mind?"

"C'mon, Chakotay. *You* might be the one to change his mind. we do,
let's make sure that it's a girl."

Chakotay closed his eyes for a moment, and pictured a little girl
with Tom's strawberry-blonde hair. Or maybe his own dark hair,
but with Tom's blue eyes and wide grin. It was a nice picture, but
not yet overly compelling.

"Sounds good to me. Maybe someday."

"Maybe. Chakotay?"

"Hmm?"

"How did we end up talking about rugrats?"

Chakotay laughed. "Fight or flight. When a body gets into a situation
where it might die, the reaction afterwards is to reproduce. Pass on
the genes before the *next* situation comes along. That's why a
battle leaves people with the urge to screw like crazy after. It's
also why there were so many births, nine months after the Kazon took
the ship, and left us on that desert planet."

"What, people were off in the bushes, relieving the tension?"

"Something like that."

"Damn. And I missed it."

Chakotay snorted at the mock-pout on Tom's face. On the other hand,
those lips pushed out, along with the expression, were irresistible,
and he promptly went to work sucking on them. Tom melted against him,
and he took advantage of the pliancy to twist them around on the
couch so that he was lying on top of Tom.

Tom smiled up at him, the 'now that you've got me, what are you going
to do with me' smile that always got his pulse racing. Levering
himself up on one elbow, Chakotay reached down, and opened the front
of Tom's uniform jacket. The jacket was quickly removed, and dropped
to floor, followed by Chakotay's. Next, the grey undershirt was
rolled up Tom's body, and over his head. Grinning, Chakotay left it
wrapped around Tom's elbows, holding his arms together. Tom just
grinned back, and kept his arms where they were, above his head.

Next, he reached down to undo Tom's pants, just lowering them enough
to release an already hard cock. He blew a gust of warm air across the
sensitive flesh, and was rewarded by a further hardening of the cock,
and a lush moan. Still grinning, he lowered his head to engulf the
erection, as it began to weep beads of liquid.

---

Attacking ship, number one, had been destroyed, but there were still
two left, and they were both doing there best to turn Voyager into a
piece of floating space debris. Kathryn barked out orders to the poor
ensign at the helm, which he was trying, valiantly, to keep up with.
She wished that Tom was in the seat, instead. He always reacted to her
commands instantly. Hell, half the time he either anticipated them,
or came up with something better. With Tom at the helm, she could let
him take over the maneuvering decisions, and concentrate on other
things.

"What's the word on the transporters?" she called out. B'Elanna lifted
her head from the Engineering station, where she'd been when the
attack started. Normally, she would have been in Engineering.

"Working on it. Give me a couple more minutes."

Kathryn turned back to the view screen, and ordered another change of
vector. It wasn't just Tom that she wanted on the bridge. She also
wanted Chakotay there. He often picked up on things that she might
miss in the heat of the moment, and his suggestions were always
useful, even when she disagreed vehemently. But more than that, just
his rock-solid presence and a calming influence on the bridge crew,
leaving them better able to focus on their tasks. Then Tom would make
a joke, and the mood would lighten. Together, they were an integral
part of her team, and a very necessary part.

A moment later, Tuvok destroyed attacking ship, number two, but Harry
was calling out the approach of two more vessels. They needed to get
away from the one ship still firing on them, and get out of the area
before the next batch got there.

"I've got the transporters up!"

Kathryn looked up at B'Elanna's shout. "How about communications?"

"Not yet. I'm still working on it."

"Fine. Lock onto Chakotay and Tom, and beam them to the bridge."

"Right."

The air in front of her shimmered, as the two men came into view.
Then her jaw dropped, hitting her chest.

Oh. My.

---

Tom was more than willing to play along with Chakotay. He kept his
arms where they were, and watched as Chakotay prepared to blow his
mind into oblivion. The man obviously was too up on adrenaline to
waste time with foreplay.

As the air blew past his cock, Tom's eyes fluttered shut, and his
hips thrust upwards. When Chakotay's lips wrapped around his erection,
he groaned. Hell, for a moment it felt like the universe moved.

Up and down, Chakotay's head bobbed. Tom responded with sighs and
moans of approval, since Chakotay hadn't been shy about telling him
how much he enjoyed a vocal lover, back when they'd first started
together. Then Chakotay did that trick with his tongue that Tom loved
so much, and he writhed, grinding his hips down into the cushions
beneath him.

Suddenly he froze. The surface underneath him was too hard to be the
cushions. And the texture was wrong. He opened his eyes, cautiously,
and looked around.

He was lying on the floor of the bridge, right in front of the
captain's chair. The Captain's face had an expression of shock. Over
at Ops, Harry was fighting to suppress a snicker. At the engineering
station, B'Elanna was watching with a gleeful expression, like the cat
with a yellow feather sticking out the side of the mouth.

The sudden wilting of Tom's erection was obviously what alerted
Chakotay. He lifted his head, and took a look around. His dark skin
meant that he rarely showed a blush, but he was turning crimson.

For long moments, there wasn't a sound. Then another blast rocked the
ship. The captain called out an order to fire to Tuvok, then ordered
B'Elanna to beam the two men back to their quarters in a slightly
strangled voice.

The last thing Tom saw, as the bridge faded away, was the grin on the
Captain's face.

---

Back in their quarters, Chakotay groaned and hid his face. He could
hear the frantic sounds of Tom restoring his uniform, cursing the
entire time. Chakotay felt a laugh trying to force its way out, but
tried to suppress it. Partly it was hysteria, but it was also a
healthy sense of the absurd. Unfortunately, he didn't think that Tom
would see it that way.

"I swear, I may just stay here for the rest of the trip back to the
Alpha Quadrant," Tom said, fastening his uniform jacket and running
his fingers through his hair to try and tidy up the curls. It wasn't
working.

"Sorry, Tom. Can't do that. You're needed on the bridge."

"Chakooo-taaaaay! How can I go back there when they all saw..."

"The same why that I will."

"I swear, one of these days I'm going to get her. Someday I'm going to
figure out just the right way to get back at B'Elanna. You'll help me,
won't you?"

Chakotay looked at Tom's earnest expression. "Of course I will," he
said in a soothing tone of voice. "Anything you come up with, I'll
help."

He saw that Tom was as decent as he was going to get, so he tapped
his comm badge. "Chakotay to the bridge."

For a few moment, all they got was static, but the Captain's voice
finally formed out of the background. "Are you decent?" Even through
the heavy static, he could hear the grin in her voice. Tom groaned,
and turned an even darker shade of red.

"Yes, Captain. We're ready for transport."

"Good. We still could use you. Transporting now."

Their quarters started to fade away. Like Tom, he was tempted to just
hide out for a month or two until the rumor mill got tired of the
story, but there was still a battle to win. There was always
something going on.

---

The End