The BLTS Archive - A Taste For Command
Third in the It's Just Sex! series
by Emily Gifford (menippee@ix.netcom.com)

---

It's late, everyone's asleep, and I'm making a midnight raid on the
fabled Paramount Fridge.  But not to worry, oh great gods of Legal,
I'm just grabbing a couple of pickles here, sampling a bit of creamy,
tasty d/s slash fruit at the bottom yogurt there.  You'll never know
the difference in your mighty towers, as I steal with my treasures
back to the Slash Dorm at ASCE U.

This is a follow-up to "What About Harry?" which was itself supposed
to be a lighthearted follow-up to the pretty much otherwise unrelated
"It's Just Sex."  (Hah!  These boys do seem to have a angsty life of
their own.) ANY-way, this one can be enjoyed independently of the
others.  I only mention their relation to each other to preserve
whatever vague claim to fictional integrity I might have.

WARNING: This is an NC-17, m/m, d/s head game kinda thing, so if this
bothers you or you're under whatever the legal age is this week, off
you go.  Otherwise, sit back and enjoy some more porn from the junior
Gifford Sister in Slash.  We here at Gifford/SteinPorn Industries,
Inc, Ltd, pat pdg, tm, welcome all helpful comments.  Well, I do
anyway.

---

_Three days_,  Harry thought as part of him tried to calibrate the
sensor array.  _It's been three days, and nothing._   Almost
automatically, his hands worked the sensor array, getting the job done
while his mind was in the Officer's Mess, three days previously.

_I laid it all on the line_, Harry thought, flushing as he thought of
his... encounter with Cmdr. Chakotay.  He felt blood rushing up his
face even now as he looked down on the back of Chakotay's neck.
_Three days ago I was sucking him like I was starved for it.  I was
actually  crying by the time he came, and it's no use pretending that
it was pure gag reflex.  I've wanted him so hard and so long, and he
was there.  He was loving me back, touching me, letting me touch him._
Kim shifted behind his console, his cock and throat both tightening
with the force of remembered desire.

_And since then... nothing.  Oh, God, was it just a pity-fuck?  An
interesting little detour?   Everyone on board knew about me and Tom,
but Chakotay has never given any hint that he was interested in anyone
except Seska and maybe the Captain.  Other than that... nothing.  Was
I an experiment that didn't quite turn out right?_  After Harry had
woken up alone in the Officer's Mess, the initial euphoria of desire
at last  fulfilled had lasted for a day, maybe a little longer.   It
was only after he'd realized that Chakotay was avoiding him, speaking
to him only when necessary, that the buoyancy had been replaced by
agonized self-recrimination.  Harry still felt that the encounter had
been worth it (_Oh, God, the weight of him in my mouth, the low moans
as he came, the tenderness with which he made me come...._), but it
seemed the last three days had been twice as long and four times more
difficult than the previous two years.

For one thing, there was no Tom Paris to distract him.  Harry was
genuinely glad that Tom had finally had the opportunity to... court
B'Elanna, or whatever the hell it was they were doing, but he missed
them both.  Having no one to talk to about what had happened had left
feeling more isolated than he had since his first, disorienting days
at the Academy.

Harry wouldn't have been human if he hadn't been at least a little
resentful.  At first, it had seemed that everything was working out.
Tom and B'Elanna were floating about three inches off the deck.
Chakotay had, it seemed, recognized and reciprocated Harry's desire.
And then... three days of silence.  Neither Tom nor B'Elanna were
talking to anyone, especially each other.  And, most chilling of all,
Harry thought he felt waves of indifference from Chakotay.

Shift change.  The agonizing conclusion to another eternity of staring
down at Chakotay, so close he could smell him.  The thirty seconds
spent aboard a crowded turbolift, he and Chakotay studiously avoiding
eye contact, surrounded by laughing and joking crewmates, was a
sharp, intense coda to the shift: all the longing, the fear, the need,
the helpless, hopeless love concentrated into thirty seconds of
despair.

_Not today_, Harry resolved.  He stalled as his relief (_Relief?
That's a joke!_) came on the bridge, head bent over the console in a
parody of concentration as he waited for the rush to be over.

He was _sure_ he had given it enough time, yet when he stepped on the
turbolift, there was Chakotay.  Alone.  _God, this is a thousand times
worse!_ Harry berated himself.  At least in a crowd, he could pretend
to himself that Chakotay's indifference was hesitancy or
circumspection.  Alone... Harry didn't even want to think about it.
He stared at his feet as Chakotay gave a deck command, and muttered
his own.  The turbolift hummed and began to move.

Only to stop.  "Computer, halt turbolift," Chakotay said calmly, voice
unruffled.  "No overrides.  Authorization Chakotay Gamma Fourteen.
Look at me, Ensign."  There was no denying the implacable force of
command in the older man's voice.  Harry looked up, face flushing, his
mouth drying. Chakotay was looking at him with an impassive face and
unreadable eyes.

"You have pleased me greatly, Ensign."  Something in the Commander's
voice made Harry realize that this had nothing to do with a possible
commendation in the offing.

"Sir?"

"It's been three days, and you have kept your distance, following my
lead," Chakotay explained.  "And, I hope, used the time fruitfully, to
think about what happened and..." Chakotay's eyes became warm, and he
smiled slightly he as he continued.  "And what happens next.

"Have you thought about it, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir."  No need to tell Chakotay he'd been thinking of it for two
years already.  No, that wasn't right.  He'd been thinking of it all
his life; it was just in the last two years that the fantasy had
gained a face, a body, a (Oh, God, just hearing him is making me so
hard...) voice.

"If your thoughts are negative about this... about me... I'll
re-engage the turbo lift and this ends here and now.  No
repercussions, no regrets."  Harry thought he heard hesitation in
Chakotay's voice. as if the other man made the offer reluctantly.  No
matter.  Harry couldn't stop this now.  Ever.

"And if not, sir?"  Harry asked, wondering if Chakotay could see the
surrender in his eyes.

Chakotay cocked his head, his smile widening almost imperceptibly.
"Do you want me to re-activate the turbolift, Ensign?'

_He knows_, Harry thought.  _Now he's just playing with me.... he
wants me to say it aloud._

"No, sir."  Harry was determined to give what was asked, and no more.
He waited for Chakotay to continue setting limits and boundaries, but
instead heard only an implacable command.

"Face the bulkhead, Ensign."  Harry obeyed surprised.  _What about
limits?  Boundaries?  Safewords_?  Physically, he felt safe enough,
but there was always the danger of too much revealed.  Harry reveled
in his own submission, but he and his partners had always started by
setting parameters, negotiating, carefully setting the stage for their
little games.  This was uncharted territory, no maps, no guidelines,
the only safety net Harry's absolute trust in Chakotay.

"Lean forward until your palms are flush on the bulkhead, Ensign."
Harry bent forward from the waist,  hands on either side of his head.
He felt vulnerable, his ass jutting prominently.  He leaned his
forehead against the smooth, hard surface of the bulkhead, and stared
down.  He could see the bulge his agonized cock was making, straining
and throbbing against the fabric of his uniform.

"Not like that, Ensign," Chakotay remonstrated, but gently, patiently.
"Like this."  Harry gasped as the older man came up behind him.  He
tensed as he felt Chakotay's warm breath on the back of his neck.
_God_, Harry thought desperately.  _How pleased will he be with me if
I just come right now, in my uniform, before he's even touched me?_
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, using all his powers to keep humiliation
and disappointment at bay.  Chakotay was taking each of Harry's  wrist
with gentle strength, pulling the young man up and away from the
bulkhead, re-positioning his hands high above his head, gently pushing
on his back until Harry's chest met the hard bulkhead.  Harry turned
his head to one side, his eyes still closed, as his body tried to
process all the sensory information it was getting: the tension of his
muscles from feet to shoulders, Chakotay's smell, the feel of the
bulkhead, the fabric of his uniform rubbing his rock-hard cock with
every breath...

"Sir!"  Harry cried involuntarily as Chakotay reached around to undo
the trousers of his uniform.

"You may speak, Ensign."  _How can he be so calm?  Every nerve ending
I have is on fire, I'm going to come any second, and he sounds like
he's at a senior staff meeting._

"Sir, I'm sorry..." Harry trailed off.  How to admit that his desire
was on the verge of defeating him?  How to explain the necessity to
slow down?

"For what, Ensign?"  The tone was just as soft and impersonal, for all
that Chakotay's hands were pulling his trousers and briefs down,
exposing him to the air.  Harry tried not to think of the air cooling
the tip of his cock where seminal fluid was starting to leak.  Harry
tried not to think of how he must look to the Commander, his pants
around his ankles, his ass exposed.

"I can't... I'm about to..."

"If you've no self-control, Ensign, that's hardly my problem,"
Chakotay said, and Harry thought he might well die of shame.  His mind
was  humiliated, but his cock didn't care.  Or perhaps it cared too
much.  It was twitching  and throbbing, blindly seeking relief.  He
felt tears start, tight in his eyes, hot on his cheeks.

"That's all right, Ensign."  Chakotay's voice was still soft, but no
longer was there the undertone of steel, of command.  Harry felt
Chakotay's weight against him, the older man's tongue licking the
tears off his face as his arms encircled his hips.  As Chakotay took
his cock in his strong hands, Harry's hands began clenching and
unclenching, instinctively need to grasp something but finding only
smooth bulkhead.

Chakotay was pumping him strongly.  "That's all right, Ensign," he
repeated.  "You can come.  Come now, Ensign," he ordered.  Harry
shouted with relief as endless moments of unbearable pleasure began to
wrack him, Chakotay's hands mercilessly driving him further and
further.  Harry had literally never come so hard or so long, his
breath coming in sobs as he came in his Commander's hands.

Harry leaned against the bulkhead, needing its solid reassurance of
the ordinary, physical world, as well as its material support.  His
knees were weak... hell, his whole body wanted nothing more than to
slide to the deck.  But Chakotay was not allowing that.  Instead, the
Commander was pulling his hips back.  Harry shuffled his feet, still
bound up in his uniform, back until Chakotay had positioned him as he
wanted.  Harry realized he was in practically the same position he'd
started in, bent over at the waist.  It seemed a lifetime since
Chakotay had taken control of his body, and he clearly was not yet
ready to relinquish control of him.  The Commander rubbed Harry's own
semen over his ass.  _No more_!  Harry screamed in his mind.  _I'm not
sure I can take any more! _

But he was being given little choice.  Oh, he knew that all he had to
do was straighten up and pull up his trousers and this game would be
over.  But he also knew that he didn't want this to end.  He
acknowledged that he had given himself to the Commander long ago,
without reservation.  It was only now that the Commander was claiming
him, but he had really been Chakotay's for nearly two years already.
Chakotay had earned first his admiration, then his respect, his trust,
his love, and now, utter submission.

Harry heard the rustle of cloth behind him, and tensed, waiting for
the inevitable.  Chakotay slid a single, gently probing,
semen-lubricated  finger into the younger man's anus, following it
quickly with two more, gently massaging and stretching him.  Harry
gasped as he felt his cock  coming to life again.  _Oh, God, already?_

"Ensign?"  The voice _oh, God, the voice_ was soft and gentle in its
question.  Harry realized that Chakotay was checking in, making sure
he was all right, and the simple compassion and concern made him all
the harder.  _This is why_, he thought, _this is why I love him; could
deny him nothing._  But Harry also knew that he wanted this not just
out of love and gratitude for Chakotay, but for himself.  He needed
this, not just for immediate gratification of his once more tumescent
cock and his always insatiable senses, but also because his soul cried
out for this man's possession.

"Please, sir," Harry whispered, and was lost once more as Chakotay
pulled back his hand, and plunged his cock deep into Harry's body.
Chakotay reached for Harry's cock once more, stroking the ensign even
as he was plunging into him again and again, with solid, sure thrusts.

Before long, both men were gasping as Harry's ass clenched eagerly
around Chakotay's cock, as Chakotay's impending orgasm caused him  to
speed up the tempo of his stroking of Harry's engorged penis.

They came together, heads thrown back, voices raised in triumph and
surrender, their cries gradually diminishing to gasps as they touched
the stars and then returned to Voyager.

Silently, Chakotay restored his own clothing, then Harry's.  The
Commander took the ensign in his arms, pulling him close and kissing
him gently on the lips.  "Thank you, Harry," Chakotay whispered
against Harry's lips.  "Thank you."  Chakotay's voice was quiet, real
gratitude in his voice.  "In the Maquis, I developed a real taste for
command.  It's been hard, having to give some of that up for the good
of the ship.  Thank you for letting me have it again."

Harry returned Chakotay's kisses with a passionately tender one of his
own, a kiss that spoke volumes.  "Sir," though, was the only word he
said aloud.

---

The End