The BLTS Archive - Unchained
by BGM (bgmanic@gmail.com)

---

This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and
incidents are either products of the author's imagination
or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

STAR TREK: VOYAGER is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures.
Copyright 1996 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved. No
infringement was meant.

13/07/96

---

//Oh yessss ...// Paris sighed, kicking off his boots and laying his
aching feet across the small table.  //Damn what a day.//

He'd done it.  Well, almost.  He'd come back alive, and the whole ploy
had been explained.  Neelix's little video program had taken care of
that.  And now he was blissfully alone, huddled safely in the
protective shelter of his quarters.  How odd that he could find
himself so grateful to actually feel insanely happy to be back
onboard Voyager.   Course, after an encounter with Seska, even a
Cardassian interrogation chamber would seem appealing.

He snorted.  //Well, not quite.//  He sighed again and rested his head
against the back oh his chair, his pallid blue eyes closing in
fatigue.  //Let's hope Janeway doesn't call on me anytime soon,// he
thought lazily, his mind already drifting to sleep.  //I'm too
tired,// he yawned hugely.

Just then the door beeped, eliciting a colorful curse from Paris'
mouth.  //I knew it.  It had to start sometime.  I bet it's Kes with
flowers.   Oh Paris, I'm so glad you're back!'//

He got up, muscles screaming in protest.  //Ah shut up,// he scolded.
//You've suffered worse.  These people seem to care about you Tom.
The least you could do is entertain them.//

He leaned against the release panel, eyes half-closed in dismay and
exhaustion.  The figure that appeared beyond the door sill
straightened him up, and his eyes snapped wide with attention.  "Sir."

"At ease lieutenant," the man's soft voice said, relaxing the young
man.  //At least he didn't bring a paddle,// Paris thought wryly,
watching as Commander Chakotay entered his quarters.  //Don't ask if
you're bothering me, please.//

Then he remembered the awful treatment he'd given his commander, and
any harsh remark flew out of his mind.  "Commander," he acknowledged,
his voice nervous despite himself.  //He must be in a dark mood,// he
thought. //I wonder if he believes it was all an act.  I hope.  I
doubt he's all that obtuse.//

"Lieutenant," he said, voice painfully professional.  Paris smiled and
padded to his replicator.

"Can I get you something?"

"I don't drink, lieutenant.  And I suggest you don't waste your
credits for--"

"I need it," Paris cut, and dialed up a strong whiskey.  Even if he
knew it was onlysynth; even if he knew the hot trail it left down his
throat was merely a product of mixing agents and not real alcohol,
Paris still enjoyed it.  He slammed the glassback on the replicator
dais and collected his thoughts.  //Wish I couldn't be able to do
that.  Wish it was really liquor.  Make me forget everything.//

"I came here to apologize, lieutenant."

Paris' head whipped around, blue eyes narrowed.   "What?"

"To apologize for doubting you," Chakotay said quietly.  //Does that
man ever raise his voice?  I never realized how attractive it could be
though//  Suddenly lost in the revelation, Paris didn't hear the other
man's following words.  He shook his head and looked up.  Chakotay was
suddenly closer.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said are you all right?  You seemed to zone out there for a
minute."

"I-I'm fine," he dismissed, moving away.  "Just thinking back on the
mission," he lied.

"I'm sorry," he said coldly.  "I know it wasn't easy."

//Is this man *ever* emotional?// Paris thought absently, fingering
his glass.  "I wasn't thinking about how hard it was.  I was thinking
about what it took for me to accomplish it.  The lies, the act."

"And the fact I was apparently the only one not to know about it," he
hissed, rare anger suddenly underlying his tone.

Tom looked back, surprised.  Chakotay was again closer.  "Didn't
Captain Janeway expl--"

"Explaining it doesn't make it all right.  Understand the logic of
things doesn't erase anger, or the irritation."  A hand was grabbing
for his arm, and Paris tried to pry it away.  "I hated you for a long
time, lieutenant.  For an illusory reason, I hated you.  You don't
know what that means to me.  To hate."

Paris relaxed, looking up at the dark eyes narrowed at him.  "So what
do you want me to do about it?" he clipped.  "I'm sorry your
conscience took a bruise.  You don't see me regret my actions."  //God
I'm sorry, so so sorry.//

"Well maybe you should," Chakotay spat, though his demeanor softened.
Eyes still hard, he reached for Paris' collar and began unclasping the
young man's uniform.  It took five seconds for Paris to realize what
he was doing.  "Wha--"

"Shut up," Chakotay spat, intent on his task.  He slowly revealed
Paris' chest as he tugged the lavender shirt off, enjoying the
confused look on the young man's features.  He glanced downward, his
eyes taking in the figure before him; the black briefs hugging an
unexpected rigidness, the soft golden hue permeating his skin.  He
took a moment to savor the sight as he stripped of his own uniform,
enjoying the controlled lust suddenly filling the young man's eyes.
He chuckled and abruptly grasped Tom's shoulders and turned him
around.  Pushing him to the floor he clawed the underwear off.

"Damn you!" Tom cried.  "What the hell are you--"

"Ssh," he whispered in his ear, his hand caressing the sinuous line of
his back while the other probed the narrow chest, fingers rising and
falling over the sharp muscles and tickled by the soft golden hairs
curled over his upper chest.  "Just relax," he hissed, his tongue
darting to trace a lobe.  "Let me," he said, the following words lost
in his throat.  Strangled approval of his physique flowed from his
mouth as he moved over Paris, coaxing him, relaxing him.  He had an
influential voice, and evidently used it as an advantage.

"Chako--"

A hand curled into his hair, pulling his head back sharply.  His neck
arched enticingly back, exposing a vulnerable throat.  "I didn't ask
you to call me that," Chakotay hissed.  "It was still commander last I
heard, lieutenant."

"Sorry, *commander*," Tom spat, his voice husky by arousal and the
unnatural position of his neck.  Chakotay released him, and he gasped
loudly, glancing over his shoulder.  "So is this your revenge?"

Chakotay chuckled, busy with something in his hands.  When he threw
aside the small bottle he'd held, he looked up directly into Paris'
eyes and pushed a broad finger into the tender cleft.  "Call it
justified payment," he hissed.

"Why commander, I didn't know you cared," Tom barked, though he could
hardly refute the near constant moaning rumbling in his chest, or the
painful evidence of his arousal rising from the silky depth of his
thighs.

Chakotay's finger was joined by another, spreading a cool gel
stuff inside him - preparing him.  A shudder of anticipation rippled
through Tom, and he blindly reached out to grasp a pillow.  He curled
it under him and ducked his head, waiting.

He didn't have to wait long.  Shortly after the fingers were withdrawn
and Paris had wailed in protest, his puckered ass was pressed with the
tip of Chakotay's blunt cock.

The first thought that entered Paris' mind was a frightening one.  //I
won't take him; he's huge!//  But that thought was quickly chased away
as the broader man pushed slowly into him.  //Oh ... Oh yes ...//

The lubricant did its work, paving an easier way for Chakotay's
straining sex.  When he pushed in unexpectedly fast, Paris threw his
head back and cried out, sweat breaking over his body.  "God!  Yes,
that feels sooo good," he moaned, his fingers clutching into the
pillow.  Behind him, mere silence greeted him.

//You bastard.  I won't let you enjoy this in silence.//  He growled,
and when Chakotay had withdrawn partially and began diving back, Tom
bucked back and thrust hard against the commander's hips.  A gasp was
heard, and Tom smiled wickedly.  //I'll make you scream,// he thought.
//I don't care that I'm under you, I'll make you scream.//

"Stop moving," Chakotay growled, his voice straining with tattered
control.

"Like hell," the young man managed, thrusting back again.  Another
gasp, underlined with a moan.  Barely audible, but Tom heard it, and
delighted in his victory.

"Fine," he spat, and grasped the golden hips and pulled hard as he
moved forward even faster.  Tom screamed and his face fell forward,
into the pillow.  //Damn you.//  Another thrust, and Paris was the
one screaming, ecstasy filling him to the core.  When the pleasure
subsided, Paris climbed to his hands and ducked his head, blinking
sweat out of his eyes and waiting.  //Fuck you Chakotay, what the hell
are you waiting for?//  He moved his hips, seeking blindly for the
delightful thrust of earlier.

"Did you like it, lieutenant?  Want some more?"

//Won't make me beg you bastard.//  He shook his head, dislodging
strands of golden hair.  "Stop ... if you want.  See if you can."
A curse so soft escaped Chakotay's lips, and Tom's lips curved
upward.  //You can't.  Ha!  I knew I'd get through that thick exterior
of yours my sweet.//

Another thrust, this time full of anger and lust, driving so deep into
him Paris thought he'd be ripped in two.  A broad hand reached under
him and grasped his straining erection, squeezing with just the amount
of pressure to make him dance between blissful release and deceitful
pain.  "Comm--"  he began, his voice failing him.

"Come?"  Still that damn soft annoying voice.  "Are you saying you
want to come, Paris?"

"Whatever you say, Chakotay," Paris growled and thrust back with every
ounce of strength left in him.  That was it.  The pressure on his cock
softened a bit as Chakotay's mind focused on the sensation flooding
his body.  He growled, thrusting once, then another time as he emptied
himself in the slender body beneath him.

When he realized he still had Paris' hardness between his fingers, he
stroked once or twice, exerting enough pressure to stimulate a
shattering climax.  Enjoying the more vocal response of his unexpected
lover, Chakotay smiled against his back, slumped over him in complete
satiated bliss.

They rolled together on the floor, Paris settling himself in the
square built of his commander.  They remained silent for a moment,
then Chakotay was leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"I did scream," he whispered.  "In my mind, I screamed for the first
time."

Paris rumbled contentedly against him and pressed a blind kiss to his
chest, brushing over a dark nipple.  Too exhausted to move to more a
comfortable resting place, both drifted to sleep, unaware they'd wake
up with a hell of a revelative shock the next morning.

--

The End