The BLTS Archive- Love Trifles Two If You Knew... by T'Reija (Theganan@gmx.de) --- Post/Archive: ASC/EM(L), BLTS, R'Rain's, others please ask first, though I'll probably say yes. Disclaimer: Paramount owns the boys and the ship. I own this story, a laptop and a f*cking headache. And that last one's your fault, yes, I'm talking to you, Tom, and to you too, Chak. I'm speaking with a computer. I need to get a life. Naa... maybe tomorrow... Note: Read "Can you forgive me?" first. Unlike in lots of other "prison stories", there is no *actual* sexual violence, but attempted rape as well as other forms of violence, and explicit m/m consensual sex. Do not proceed if you are offended by any of this. And I wrote all evening, so that it's (hopefully) still in for the Awards (not that it could compete against some of the better stuff I've read...). Instead of starting in time. Suddenly I thought "Isn't there this old story on my harddrive?" So this is the second story in one night, a new record (for me)!! Oh, and if you have time, please tell me whether the perspectives are okay (they switch a lot) or if I should re-write it in third person. January 1999 --- I watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful, so calm, so gorgeous. "Oh, Chakotay, what would you say if you knew... if you knew what I've done," I whisper, knowing that he can't hear it. "I didn't see any other possibility, but now I feel I could have done something else..." We've been together for three months now, and I'm happier than I've ever been before. I love him, with all my heart, with all my soul, and I know he loves me. He says it, but he also shows it to me. When we make love, and afterwards, when he looks at me, when we sit in the messhall together, I can see it so clearly... others have noticed too. We haven't really made it public yet, although we agreed not to hide anything either. To most, it looks like we had gotten over our problems - we sure did - and were now good friends. Harry guessed, of course. Or maybe it was B'Elanna, who knows. I suspect they, um, 'exchanged their information'. They both keep on doing subtle remarks, and sometimes they go into fits of laughter when they whisper amongst themselves. I'd have never thought B'Elanna to be a giggler, but she is. And of course there are rumours... we practically share quarters, either he stays in mine or I in his at night. People are due to notice... Anyway, it's not like I mind or something. The whole ship can know if they want to, as long as I have Chakotay I don't really care about anything else. Everyone's so excited about getting home, finding some possibility, a wormhole, the Caretaker's mate, Delta Quadrant technology or something like that. I don't want them all to suffer, staying here for 70 years. No, they deserve to rejoin with their friends and family, but what will happen when we do return? To me? Gosh, that sounds selfish. To us? He opens his eyes, blinking away the sleep. Normally, he's the early riser, I prefer to sleep long, well, until the alarm goes off. How good that we're both alpha shift, that way we can sleep, wake up and have breakfast together. Today's our free day anyway; we arranged that we both had the same day off. Janeway had noticed it with a firm half-grin. I get the feeling she doesn't like relationships in the chain of command. Leaning over, I gently kiss him on the mouth, stroking his cheek, savouring the feeling of his naked body against mine, and I think about last night. How I took him, and then how he took me, and how exhausted we both were afterwards, and still we didn't go right to sleep but kissed for what seemed like ages, caressed each other gently. We hadn't intended it, but soon we were both hard again. What shall I say? It was a long night... "One should think you'd have had enough by now," Chakotay grins as I lay myself on top of him, straddling him. "Besides, I *really* want to hit the bathroom." Reluctantly, I get off and put on a robe. "You go and take a shower," I say, sniffling the air, it still smells of sex. "I'll just make the bed. Seems the sheets need changing." "Definitely," he laughs and disappears into the bathroom, while I pull of the linen and put it into the 'fresher. Then I join him in the shower - real water, that's a habit he'll never break, I guess - and we embrace. I hope we will always see this as something special, will never grow so accustomed that we cannot surprise each other anymore. We kiss, again, then pull apart quickly. "Told you the sonics have an advantage, Cha. No shampoo," I say, wiping my mouth. I must look quite funny, for he laughs at me, only getting more shampoo in his own mouth. Now it's my turn to laugh as he pulls a face at the soapy taste. Careful not to get more of the soapy substance between us, I gently nibble on his lip, my hands at his back, lingering just above his buttocks, and I can feel his penis start to grow as my massage moves further down. He moans into my half open mouth, pulls my head closer by moving his hands behind my neck. Struggling free, I lower my mouth, tracing his collar-bone with my lips, down to his left nipple, sucking it ever so softly. "*Tom!*" he hates this teasing, I know he does. Sweet torture is what he calls it. Going down fully on my knees - although the shower *is* quite small... at least in this particular position - my tongue circles his wet, hard member, the salty taste of pre-cum mixing with water, and even a little soap, but I try to block that last one out. He is so easy to arouse. 'Only by you, my love.' I remember him saying that last night. "Tom, at least this isn't getting boring. For all the sex I've had, nobody ever gave me a blow job in the shower." "Virgin, eh?" I briefly pause to say the words and grin upwards, my hands tightening at his back, then I lower my head back to the, um 'job at hand', or rather, at mouth? I know he's close, and all he can reply is something resembling "Smart ass" before he comes, shooting his seed down my throat. Getting up from my knees, I give some of it back in the deep melting kiss that follows. Kissing seems to be one of the most important parts of our relationship, I don't know, I could do without the sex if I had to, but to give kissing up... alone the thought gives me the creeps. "Tom, I want to..." "Yes?" "Look, I heard what you said before, when you thought I was sleeping. And you still haven't told me why you had led Captain Janeway through the Badlands. I'm worried about you, you know. Maybe this isn't the best time, but I have to know if you can trust me. Please. I promise, whatever it is, it'll stay between you and me." The water suddenly feels cold, like little pebbles of ice, or needles, I love you so, Cha, but nevertheless I turn away from you, you and your concern, your questioning gaze, your love. "What if I can't tell you, if I won't? Will you leave me?" --- The water keeps on pattering on my back, and I switch it off before turning towards Tom. He looks at me with this odd expression, the same I've seen at the time before we were back together. "If you can't, I'll wait until you will. If you won't, I'm not gonna leave you, I never would, but I'd be disappointed. I just don't want you to take everything in. I know it's hard for you to talk about Auckland, but it's going to ruin you if you don't. Believe me, I know that in most cases, it's best to talk to someone. I have my spirit guide, but you..." I don't finish the sentence. He knows what I mean. His eyes are unfocused, and for a moment I regret I'm so persistent. After all, we entered this relationship in agreement that I would wait until he was ready to tell me whatever had occurred. And now I'm hustling him. I'm such an idiot. Dressed only with bathrobes we sit down on the small but comfortable couch in his quarters, after I got him some tea from the replicate... soothingly, I stroke his hair with one hand, his head is resting on my shoulder, and then I wait. Tom's breathing is even, but he's trembling slightly. After a deep breath, he starts explaining. --- "It was only a week and a half since I'd come to prison, when I noticed Bruce Ferguson. He was hardly one you could miss, the big type of guy, macho, strong. He thought he was the king, and he was used to everyone bending to this. But not Tom Paris, right? I had to break the unspoken rule, talk to him in that smart-ass-Paris-way, had to show I was superior if not in physical then in a mental way. Maybe that's why he singled me out, or perhaps it was simply because our bunks were in the same cell. "Anyway, Bruce bullied me around wherever he could, if he was still hungry after lunch, for example, I had to give him my meal. If he wanted the upper bed, I had to sleep in the lower. It were mostly small things, you know, and it wouldn't have been so bad... until one day..." --- Convict Thomas Eugene Paris lay on his back, eyes closed. When he didn't see the bed above him, when he shut out the forcefield, he could almost imagine he wasn't here. The days in the maquis hadn't been comfortable either sometimes, at least in things like sharing rooms. Admitted, he'd spent most nights in the Captain's quarters. And now he could hear Bruce snoring in the otherwise quiet room. Bruce Ferguson, who had gave him a black eye earlier when he had refused to do his work, also. The guy made this place worse than hell. And Tom was afraid. Not of the occasional thrashing, he'd received that long before he was in prison. What concerned him far more was what Gary had told him two days earlier. "Just be careful not to show him your backside too much. He could get used to it." As all roommates, Bruce and he formed a working group together most of the time. Like that dreaded day he would never forget. Normally, they should have been overseen, but Tom suspected that the guard and Bruce had found some sort of 'agreement' - with other words, bribery. While he leaned forward to check out a weld seam he'd made, he could hear the laughter from behind. It made him angry that Bruce could treat him this way, let him do everything and watch himself. And then it all seemed to happen very quickly. "Hey petals," Bruce shouted, well-aware that no one would hear him. He called Tom 'petals' ever since he'd get to know of his relationships with men before prison. Paris' hand tightened around the welding torch. When he felt Bruce's heavy hand giving him a clap on his behind, he spun around, pointing the instrument directly towards his opponent. "What do you want, Bruce? Because you'd better leave me alone from now on. I may not be a muscle-man like you, but I can damn well defend myself. So, I'll ask again: WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!?" Bruce stayed calm, and gave him one of his coldest looks. "Petals, you know perfectly well what I want. I want to take you, and I will, here and now, and there's absolutely *nothing* you can do. So put down the little toy before you hurt yourself. Tom was now gripping it even more tightly, trying desperately to show no sign of weakness. Bruce came closer, his grin still in place. He knew Tom, knew that he'd never have the guts to kill someone. --- "He was wrong. When he moved too close, I knocked him over the head with the torch, as hard as I could, again and again. I didn't even stop when he was already lying on the floor. I... I killed him. It doesn't matter that it was self-defense. I should have done something earlier, something less drastic. And do you know what my thoughts were at the time?" "No," I reply, never stopping to stroke Tom's hair. "All I though was that I had to get out of there. They'd never believe me. Bruce had been socialising with some of the guards, as well as the prison director. So I hid his body in one of the big garbage cans behind the building. In a *garbage can*, Cha. He wasn't missed at first, because he often spent the night in some other cell, but I knew people would get suspicious. And then Captain Janeway came along, and gave me an easy way out. I'm such a coward. Instead of standing up for what I did, I not only gave away my former maquis colleagues, I also made it possible for anyone else to be blamed when his body was discovered." Poor Tom. He blamed himself for the death of this low-life scumbag who probably would have raped him? No wonder he had wanted to leave prison so desperately. But what could I do? I certainly wouldn't tell the Captain, or anyone else, I had given him my word. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you. I shouldn't have insisted that you go through all this again." "No. It was the right thing to do. I feel kinda better now that you know. You... you don't think it was wrong? You don't hate me?" "Tom, maybe it wasn't right, but it wasn't wrong. It was desperate. Self-defense. No one's fault, but Bruce's himself. And I could never hate you, even if I wanted to. I love you, Tom. And I'm glad you shared this with me." --- The End