The BLTS Archive- The Love Across Time Series:
Destined
by Joanne Collins (luchenbackoutlaw@gmail.com)

---

Some characters in this story are based on characters appearing in the
television series Star Trek: Voyager.  All Star Trek characters and
concepts are copyright Paramount/Viacom.  Everything else is mine.

FEEDBACK:  Please! Positive, negative, public, private, (but please
ask before posting anything negative publicly), anything at all
(except flames). Oh, and as I say below, please don't expect perfect
historical accuracy.  I don't think I take any more liberties than
most writers of historical fiction do.

This story is the first in a planned series of stories about the past
lives of Tom Paris and Chakotay. There will also be stories about the
past lives of Tom Paris and Harry Kim posted in the same series.
Other Voyager characters may make appearances in future stories, but
that won't be happening in this story.

This is a historical story, both to us, and to Voyager.  The setting
is Restoration England, and the attitudes to homosexuality are taken
from a book called "The English: A Social History" by Christopher
Hibbert.  The attitude during the seventeenth century, according to
the book, was that homosexuality was "rare and tolerated".  Therefore,
the relationship in the story is tolerated.  Not liked by everyone,
but tolerated.  The information about Charles II, Catherine Of
Braganza and Barbara Castlemaine is taken mostly from Jean Plaidy's
book, A Health Unto His Majesty, and a lot of the situations are
fictionalised by me.  Natural son, as used by Ms Plaidy (I presume
accurately), means illegitimate son.

Note on the rating:  Although this story is rated NC-17, only part
four contains adult material.  The rest of the story would be rated PG
-13 for adult situations including m/m kissing.  I have written the
story this way to make it feel more like a historical novel.  It is
possible to read only parts 1-3 if you wish to do so, but I did want
to write the first time sex scene. Consider it the *romance* part of
historical romance <g>.

Now meet the main players:

Thomas Eugene Paris:  The second son of a nobleman, and a favourite of
King Charles II, Thomas Paris chose to train as a physician, as he
never expected to inherit his father's lands and title.  But his elder
brother was killed ighting to restore Charles to the throne, and now
his father wants him to follow the path laid out for his eldest son.
Tom doesn't want to, but as a compromise, he's accepted an appointment
at the Royal Court.  He has no objection to this, as he has a great
love for his King and country.  He finds the social life at Court
boring, and doesn't wish to have one mistress after another, much as
is expected of everyone at Court, because he has no romantic interest
in women.

Then he meets:

Chakotay:  A Portuguese noble, he travels to England as part of
Catherine of Braganza's bridal party.  Charged with protecting the
princess until her marriage, he is embittered and cynical about love,
having been hurt too many times.  He also disapproves of the social
rules and behaviour at Court, and finds Thomas intriguing at first,
later it becomes more.

King Charles II:  King of England, lover of pleasure and women.  My
Charles is based on Michael York's portrayal of the King in the
telemovie The Lady And The Highwayman.

Barbara, Lady Castlemaine:  Although she is the King's mistress, and a
married woman, she sets her sights on Thomas after the King rejects
her in favour of his fiancee. And she doesn't take lightly to being
rejected a second time.  Any resemblance to Seska is *totally*
coincidental.  She is based on Emma Samms' portrayal in the
abovementioned movie.

Catherine Of Braganza:  Charles' sweet, gentle wife.  Chakotay is her
confidante.

The above three characters are real historical figures, but are used
fictitiously.

Dedicated to Bratkatze, who liked the idea, and to Rachel who did an
outstanding job of beta reading.  Any mistakes are all mine, of
course.

---

"Coming to the tennis match?" a languid voice drawled behind Tom.

"M'lady Castlemaine, I regret that I cannot.  I have patients to see."

"Please?" she pouted.

"M'lady, I really cannot.  You will simply have to give me a report
this evening."

"If I must," she flounced off.

"Thank the lord I was able to put her off," Tom said to himself, "Now
all I have to do is come up for an excuse not to be alone with her
this evening. She has become so...aggressive since His Majesty threw
her over."

"Barbara?" came a familiar laughing tone.

"Your Majesty," Tom bowed, "I should not have spoken of a lady in such
terms."

"I didn't think you were," the King's eyes twinkled.

Tom lost his last shred of dignity at that, and the two men erupted
into gales of laughter.

"Ah, Tom, I love you.  You make me laugh in ways no one else can," the
King said when they were capable of speech again.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Tom replied solemnly, but with almost
enough of a twinkle to set them both off again.

"Don't start that again, Tom.  I must greet my fiancee in an
appropriately subdued manner."

"Of course," Tom sobered, wondering if his friend really was as ready
as he thought he was for marriage.

"What is it, my friend?  Is there something you are not telling me?"

"There is nothing I have not told you.	Nothing.  I have told you
things I could tell no one else, because no one would understand.  If
only..."

"If only the world were tolerant?  If only I could do what I wish?  If
only I had been able to love you as you once wanted me to?"

"Yes, but you chose Lucy Water over me.  Well, not *over* me, because
you could never have chosen me, but it felt that way.  And she bore
you a son."

"Tom, you know I have no interest in...taking pleasure with a man.
And even if I had, I would have had to subdue such desires.  We could
never have been."

"I know.  And our friendship is part of me now.  But I still
wonder..."

"What it might have been like?"

"Yes."

"We need to find you someone, Tom."

"I can 'find someone' any night of the week in a specific part of
town."

"That is not what I meant.  Your desires are as they are, and nothing
can change them.  So we need to find someone for you to come home to
at night. Someone whom you can discuss your day with.  Someone
to...love you."

"But how *can* I?"

"You forget," Charles smiled, "I am the King Of England.  If anyone
can make it possible, I can."

"You would do that for me?  But...my father...the title..."

"Would not gainsay the King.  And besides, Andrew did leave two
heirs."

"Yes," Tom smiled, thinking of his nephews, "But still..."

"If he tries anything, he will be dealt with," and Charles' eyes were
ice cold, "I'm not going to let anyone else be forced into a marriage
they don't want."

"You...don't wish to marry the Princess?"

"It is not my first choice.  I will do my best to be a good husband to
her, but it is not where my heart lies.  I don't think my heart lies
with any one woman."

"Yet you bow to the will of the people."

"They wish a married King, with an heir, in order to feel that the
throne is completely safe again.  I can understand, and accept my
responsibilities.  And the alliance is favourable politically."

"And personally?"

"I do not think we are ill-suited, and that is all one can ask for as
yet."

Tom thought that at least his friend would have someone to come home
to each night.	He certainly didn't want that from the occasional
dalliance he indulged in.  There was a part of London that he could
find a boy any night he wished, although he did so less often now,
only when the urge to hold someone, even if only for a few hours,
drove him to seek out a touch other than his own.  He did not
encourage the small, slim boys he invariably chose to linger in his
rooms. He did not realise it, but his subconscious chose companions
the opposite both physically and intellectually of his King.  He
realised that he had not ventured to that part of town for almost a
year, and he did not regret it.  He wanted more than just a few hours
of mutual, empty pleasure, and he would prefer to go without than
continue that way.

"What has you so preoccupied, Tom?"

"I was just thinking...if I wanted to 'find someone', all I'd have to
do would be to go to a particular tavern in that part of London that
is renowned for the...exotic, and wait.  But I realised that I haven't
done that in over a year.  Perhaps you are right, and I do
need...more."

"You are not one to spend your life alone, Tom.  That is what you
need.  After the wedding, I shall see what I can do."

"Are you sure, my King?"

"You will have to be...discreet.  But you will be able to be free with
me, and some of the others.  I'm sure you know better than I do which
of my ministers and courtiers are appalled at the idea, and which are
tolerant."

"I'm not sure, Your Majesty.  There was one person who I thought would
be accepting of me who was not by any stretch of the imagination."

"Who is that?  I shall banish them."

"I will not tell you their name.  I don't wish to cause trouble for
you, and it would not be...easy for you to run the country without
this person. They are quite...highly placed."

"Very well, I must leave for Portsmouth.  I do not know when I shall
return, but I will be sending some of my bride's party, and of course
some of her dowry back as soon as I arrive.  Would you mind dreadfully
being on hand to greet them?"

"Of course.  They should arrive later this evening?"

"Yes.  Thank you, Tom."

"Do not despair, my friend.  It can't possibly be as bad as you are
expecting."

"I am not expecting it to be bad at all.  I am not expecting it to be
good, however, just...tolerable."

Tom wished he could reassure his friend, but he knew that his friend
had obligations and duties that he was not free to disregard, and he
wondered if maybe Charles would have chosen this path if there had not
been the great upheaval of Commonwealth, if Charles had grown up as a
crown prince and not a wandering one.  It was something that would
never be known.

Tom knew that his wishes and desires could never be fully realised
with a paid companion, which was all that the boys he met in the
taverns were.  He wanted an equal, someone who could share his life,
not just a warm body in his bed.  That was the difficulty for him, if
he had desired women in that way, he might have married someone like
his childhood friend and companion, Henriette, Charles' sister, who
the King called 'Minette' most endearingly. But he could not deny who
he was, and to marry someone he did not love would have been, to Tom,
the worst form of denial.

Several hours later, Tom dressed carefully.  He was literally
representing his country, and it would *not* do, he smiled, to appear
at less than his best.  He adjusted the breeches he wore, with a
ruffled shirt, waitscoat in a neutral brown, and topcoat of deep blue,
almost the colour of his eyes.  His hat's large ostrich feather was
the same blue.

Tom walked down the long corridors of the palace, heading for the main
courtyard.  He almost groaned aloud when he heard the familiar sultry
tones of Barbara Castlemaine.

"My Lord Darania, do you go to greet the...bridal party?"

"Yes, m'lady.  His Majesty asked me to greet them."

"May I join you?  I am...curious about the Portuguese Enfanta's
attendants.  I hear," her voice lowered, even *she* would not speak of
such matters aloud in public, "That the men are all eunuchs, or
otherwise...incapacitated."

Tom wondered with faint intellectual curiosity if this woman actually
found such subjects...arousing.  Not that he particularly cared, or
wanted to know.  He wished there were a way to dissuade her from
accompanying him, but he couldn't think of one.	Curse married women
with cuckolded husbands, he thought, especially *this* married woman.

"You look very well, my Lord," Barbara simpered.

"Thank you," Tom answered, awkwardly.  He didn't really want to
encourage the woman's advances, but maybe if she was focused on him,
Charles would have a chance to make his marriage work.  He returned
the compliment, although he found Barbara very over-ripe looking in
dark green.

Then they were at the courtyard.  The carriages had not yet arrived,
and Tom cringed inwardly at the idea of spending more time with
Barbara than he needed to.  Then, to Tom's immense relief, several
courtiers arrived, also curious about the visitors to Court.  The
crowd of people was actually quite large by now, and Tom was able to
politely extricate himself from Barbara's company.  Tom was able to
exchange a few words with one of the upper servants to set his
arrangements for the evening meal in place. He was not looking forward
to the formal occasion, in large part because Barbara had made it
impossible for him not to ask her, as "the highest-born lady presently
at Court," the subtle dig at Catherine even now a reflex action before
she met her.  But better this than being buried in the country, forced
to marry some girl and sleep with her to beget heirs.  He envied those
who managed to find love, whether with their lawful spouse, or a
mistress, or even the few he knew of who did take a lover of the same
sex.  If he'd been able to find someone who made him feel as Susan had
made Andrew feel, then he would have done the same, but the only
person he'd even come close to feeling the blend of passion and
friendship his brother and his wife had shared for was Charles, who
could never be more than his friend, even if he had wanted to be more.
Maybe one day he'd find someone who would feel the same way about him,
and he would certainly be more likely to find them here in London than
he would be to find them in the depths of the countryside.

Tom's musings were interrupted by the clatter of carriage wheels.  He
straightened his posture, and the position next to him was claimed by
Barbara, who latched possessively onto his arm.  Tom couldn't remove
her hand without arousing suspicion or unneeded tension, so he
reluctantly allowed it.

The small cavalcade stopped.  Not fancy carriages of gilt and polished
lightwood, but good, serviceable carriages that would serve the owners
for many years.  Tom approved.  Then the door of the largest vehicle
opened, and a man stepped out.

A man? Not *just* a man, Tom thought, more a magnificent creature from
half-remembered dreams and fantasies.  "If he is a eunuch," Tom
thought, "I will become one myself."  He was tall, although probably
not quite as tall as Tom, and wore no wig.  His thick, dark hair
brushed his broad shoulders, under a hat of similar design to Tom's.
His topcoat was deep burgundy red, and the rest of him...Tom didn't
want to look too closely for fear of embarassing himself in public,
his breeches were *very* well-fitted.

Then he looked into the man's eyes.  Deep, endless depths of brown
looked back at him.  He didn't know if they were returning the
appraisal he was trying not to make obvious, or if the gentleman was
simply looking for the person who was to greet him...and that was Tom.

That thought broke the connection, and Tom's social instincts
reasserted
themselves as he stepped forward to greet the man.

"I am Thomas Paris, Earl of Darania, and one of the King's
physicians."

"I am Chakotay, the natural son of Roberto Mondelo, one of the Queen's
men."

Natural son, Tom speculated, the world knew what that meant.  But
still...he must have some connections to be entrusted with the
Princess's escort. He moved forward to take the man's hand in
greeting, he had completely forgotten that Barbara was still hanging
on to his arm, and he almost caused her to fall.

"My *Lord*," she gasped, and Tom was recalled to her presence.

"M'lady, I am sorry."

"Yes, I am sure you are.  In return, you *must* introduce me to that
*magnificent* creature first."

"As soon as I have greeted him formally," Tom agreed, reluctantly, not
wanting to raise any questions.  But he knew, even now, if the other
man chose *Barbara*, he would never recover.  Any other woman would be
acceptable, but not the Lady Castlemaine.  Tom would take her himself
first.

The other man watched the byplay in cynical amusement. It was clear
that the over-ripe lady, who was probably the Lady Castlemaine
everyone gossiped about, was charmingly, if extremely obviously,
persuading the intriguing young man to allow her favours.  Chakotay
would not fall for such favours again, though.	He had been
manipulated by too many women at the Portuguese Court, those who could
overlook his illegitimacy in favour of his high rank and other
attributes for so long, but let him propose marriage, or even a more
permanent arrangement and the dust would be stirred up by their
leaving.  He had decided that perhaps he would find an English lady,
who was not so concerned with high birth, or who would at least want
him for himself, and not the fact that he was, as so many of them had
said, "an absolutely *incredible* lover."

The intriguing young man (Chakotay had no idea *why* he found him
intriguing, but it was the only word that adequately described what he
was feeling) turned to him, and took his hand.  Both men gasped at the
heat they felt, the connection.  For Tom, it was a sexual connection,
but Chakotay didn't recognise it as such, and was overwhelmed.  He
barely noticed Tom bringing forward the lady who was indeed Lady
Castlemaine, and acknowledged the introduction as perfunctorily as
possible.  Barbara was not best pleased with this, and turned her
charms onto another of her many swains.

Tom began to move away from the man, intending to greet the other
people with him.  A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Not my Lord.  Chakotay."

"Chakotay.  What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering, is the Palace Library available to guests?"

"Yes it is.  I will leave word that you are to be given free access if
that is what you wish."

"Thank you, my lord Darania."

"Thomas."

"Thomas."

"Maybe I will see you there.  I spend much time reading Culpepper's
and other medical volumes when I have the time."

"I would like that very much," the older man smiled, and Tom was
dazzled.

Tom reluctantly left the man, hoping to meet with him again in the
library, one of his favourite places in the palace, and his refuge
from predatory women like Barbara, who claimed his attentions once
again.

Chakotay watched the young man, obviously completely at ease, yet
there was something about him that didn't quite meld with what he'd
been told about the English Court. The Lady Castlemaine, now *she* was
everything he'd been led to believe about the libertine English
women...and that was the difference, he realised.  Tom's movements and
greetings were socially correct, but there were no underlying hints of
over-ripe sensuality...except when he'd touched Chakotay's hand.  But
now, with the rest of the court, there was no hint of the predator in
Tom, he had not felt pressured, or coerced earlier, there had just
been that rush of overwhelming heat.  Chakotay could not grasp what he
felt was just out of reach, and decided to ponder it the next day,
after he had had some rest.

---

The evening had been as excruciatingly awful as Tom had expected.
Barbara had claimed his attention as he had expected, and he had not
been able to escape her.  He did have an opportunity to talk more to
Chakotay, though, and that *almost* made up for Barbara's obvious
flirtations with both of them.  He did notice that Chakotay didn't
respond to her either, but he in no way took that as anything close to
encouragement.  He didn't think that the older man had even considered
that the heat between them might be sexual, and he *certainly* wasn't
going to bring it up in front of Barbara.  If he did that the gossips
would seize on the morsel and distribute it more quickly than a
magpie took a shiny trinket.

The hour drew late, and Tom was able to make his excuses.  Barbara was
engaged in a flirtation with a rumoured past lover, the Earl of
Chesterfield, and Tom wanted to get away before she started again with
him, as he was tired, and he didn't feel up to deflecting her
advances.

As Tom left the banqueting hall, he noticed that Chakotay left by the
other door at the same time.

Tom made his way to the luxuriously appointed apartments the King
maintained for him, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't run into
anyone wanting 'just a moment of your time, Doctor Paris, I just have
this *tiny* medical question', which invariably took half an hour for
the person to get around to describing exactly, because they wanted to
be able to say that the King's personal physician spent that much time
discovering what their symptoms were.  That was one of the drawbacks,
which were *far* outweighed by the advantages, of being the King's
personal physician.

Tom yawned as he slipped off his coat, allowing it to fall where it
would.

"No, Master Paris, you will not let such a fine garment fall to the
floor," the voice of his valet, Jeremy, was loud in the lamplit room.

"I'm exhausted, Jeremy.  I never thought the social whirl was so
tiring," Tom yawned more widely.as Jeremy helped him to undress.

"You would think not," Jeremy agreed, "But fine ladies and gentlemen
are more exhausting than the country."

"Especially the ladies," Tom agreed.

"So, the fine ladies and gentlemen from the Portuguese court arrived.
Are there any young ladies who might change your mind?" Jeremy asked,
knowing that the answer would be no, but not expecting any different
answer, he had been with Tom through all of the painful decisions in
his master's life, including a time or two when he had needed to do
some quick thinking to cover up for Tom's father.

"No ladies," Tom gave the usual reply, then continued, "But I did
meet...someone."

"A gentleman?  Really?"  Jeremy was surprised.

"Well," Tom smiled, "It's kind of too soon to tell if there's anything
to it, but I've *never* felt anything like I felt when he took my hand
in greeting."

"That's a good sign, sir."

"It is if he felt it too.  But I don't know..."

"Master Paris," Tom smiled at the sound of the name Jeremy had called
him from the time he was thought of only as the second son.  He would
never be "My Lord" to Jeremy. "If the gentleman doesn't respond to you
as you do to him, he is not worthy of a moment of regret."

"I think this one...just might be," Tom mused, thinking of the lively
conversation he and Chakotay had been part of that evening.  His views
opposed the other man's just enough to create an atmosphere of
friendly debate.  Tom put his arms out to be enveloped in a voluminous
cotton night-shirt, and before he had time to think of anything more,
Tom slipped between the pan-warmed sheets of his bed and was asleep,
his last thought before sleeping a mind-picture of Chakotay laughing,
showing the dimples in his cheeks, the dimples Tom longed to taste
with his tongue.

---

The next several weeks passed quietly, the life at Court being
uneventful without a King to provide diversion.

The only scandal of any note was that Barbara Castlemaine had taken up
again with the Earl of Chesterfield, long-rumoured to have been the
man who had relieved her of her virginity. Tom's medical work took up
much of his time, as he was always rushed off his feet when Charles
was away from Court.	When he got some time to himself, he spent it
at the Palace Library, but never, to his regret, at a time when
Chakotay was there. Through discreet questioning of the librarian, he
found out that the Portuguese man spent some time there, and although
he hoped it would be only a matter of time before he and Chakotay
would be in the book-lined chamber at the same time, it had not come
to be yet, and unfortunately, the social encounters that were all the
contact he could manage were not conducive to his finding out any more
than that he and Chakotay shared similar tastes in the theatre.

Then the Royal Couple, Charles and Catherine, returned to Court from
their honeymoon.

Tom and Chakotay stood side by side, waiting for the barge to come up
the Thames river.  As the King stepped from the boat to the bank, he
leaned back, taking the hand of the slight figure of his Queen.

"Such a delicate figure," Tom thought, with some trepidation, for
women so delicate were not suited to the several pregnancies that
would be expected of a Queen.

"Tom!" Charles smiled and took his hand as the party moved back from
the riverbank.

"Chakotay..." and the young Queen lapsed into Portuguese, so Tom could
not understand what was being said.

"Your Majesty," Tom bowed, allowing Charles to catch the gleam of
laughter in his eye.

A tiny smile quirked Charles' lips, and an eyebrow was raised as Tom
presented Chakotay to his King.

"My dear wife has told me much about you, sir.  I am pleased to make
your acquaintance," Charles said, taking Chakotay's hand.

"I am honoured, Your Majesty," Chakotay murmured, wondering what the
glances between the other men meant.  Catherine appeared equally
puzzled.

"And this is my dear Catherine, formerly Princess of Braganza,
currently my Queen, and, sometimes, Mistress Stuart."

Tom, observing Catherine through the introduction, decided that the
little Queen would probably prefer the last title.  It was a pity that
it could only be used among intimates.

There was much rejoicing and protocol happening, and Tom was, for
once, relieved to have his medical work as an escape, especially when
Charles confided in a brief quiet moment the fact that Barbara had
left Chesterfield again and was agitating to be appointed to a high
position at Court, a lady-in-waiting to the Queen, who, of course,
wanted no part of it. Unfortunately, Charles knew he would have to
accommodate Barbara's wishes, to keep her husband's patronage. Court
was in too much need of money to deny such a generous patron as Roger
Palmer, even though he was known as a cuckold to the King, among
others.

Yes, Tom was relieved to escape to a patient, who, to his surprise,
was healing amazingly quickly.  So quickly, in fact, that he was much
less time with the lady than he had expected.  On realising that he
had an hour before he was expected anywhere else, he decided to spend
that hour in the Library. He knew that there would be new books, from
Portugal and from the honeymoon, although those were perhaps not
unpacked yet, and it had been too long since he had had time to
himself.

And, a tiny part of his mind added, you just might meet Chakotay, if
he is no longer with the Queen.

Tom entered the Library quietly.  It was a room that seemed to inspire
silence, but not the uncomfortable silence of a strained social call,
rather a dignified silence, as if the knowledge and words contained in
the books were too impressive to bear any competition from mere human
voices.

Tom wandered aimlessly through the stacks of books, unable to settle
on something that would capture his attention, yet would allow him to
return to his duty without being distracted.  Not paying attention to
his surroundings, he found himself slamming into a muscular bulk that
he knew, from half-remembered dreams, could only belong to one person.

"My Lord Chakotay, I am sorry," Tom said, ensuring that he immediately
renewed the distance between them, as much for his own equilibrium as
for the peace of mind of the other man.

"My Lord Darania, I am not a Lord.  My name is merely Chakotay.  I
could take my father's name, but I have no right to it, being born on
the wrong side of the blanket.  And I do not wish to be known by my
mother's name, because that would bring unwelcome gossip on her head.
So I choose to only be known by one name."

"You could always have a few of mine," Tom grimaced, thinking of just
how many titles he had inherited from Andrew and his father, more to
come on his father's death if it happened before Charles' (named after
the King, of course) majority was reached.

"You have many titles?" Chakotay asked, curiously, he had never known
more than his own name, and he found the custom rather quaint,
although he would never say so out loud, knowing the store the English
set by such things. Although he didn't think Tom set so much store by
it, it was still something that Chakotay would not joke about, he did
not want to cause any offense to the young man who had been so kind to
him.

"Too damn many.  But let us talk of other things, Chakotay."

"What shall we discuss, My Lord?"

"First of all, if I call you Chakotay, you will call me Tom, please."

"Of course, Tom.  What shall we discuss?"

Tom smiled.  It had been a very long time since anyone but Charles had
called him Tom.  It had been even longer since it had been someone he
felt as much for as he was starting to feel for Chakotay.  He reminded
himself again that he could not hold out hope of more than friendship
with the man, lest he be disappointed.

"Do you think that the King and Queen are well-suited?"  Tom began,
thinking that it would probably a good idea to talk about something
neutral before his mind wandered too far down paths that might have to
remain unexplored.

"Yes and no.  I think that if the King could bring himself to love
only one woman, they would be extremely well-suited.  But that is not
in the King's nature, unfortunately."

"I don't think it ever was.  I once wondered if there might be a
reason for that, but it did not turn out to be the case."

"L'amour de la Grecque?"

"You have heard of such things?" Tom's voice was carefully neutral,
afraid that hope would colour his tone.

"Only that some men, who have a reputation as being overly fond of the
ladies, but never actually marry, quite often are that way inclined."

"Does it...shock you?"

"Not the act itself, love is something that is far too rare and
precious to ever be rejected for so silly a reason as gender.  I would
think that the gentlemen who practice such deception, though, would be
very lonely, leading a double life of that kind."

"Yes, the King feels that way too.  Which is why he is tolerant,
although not accepting, of such liaisons."

"What do you mean?"

"He will allow such couples to be an open secret, and will receive
them.  But if asked directly, the gentlemen, or ladies who practice
the art of Sappho, are 'merely friends'.  It is not a perfect
solution, but it is acceptable."

"I would agree.  If I were to enter such a liaison, that would be all
that I could ask for."

"There are several 'devoted companions' presently at court.  Lord
Melrey and Lord Black, Lady Centran and Lady Dengate, Lord Kenrick and
Lord Randle, among others."

"I had suspected the ladies..."

"And?"

"And I came across Kenrick and Randle one evening, rather in their
cups, in an intimate embrace.  Not inappropriately so, but it did seem
that it was more than the liquor."

"They hide it well.  Kenrick has had much practice," Tom finished,
bitterly.

"With you?"

"How did you know?"

"The way you talked about him.	And some unconfirmed gossip about why
you are as yet unmarried.  So, the wind blows in that quarter, hmmm?"

"Yes.  I do not apologise for being as I am, and if you expect me to
do so, I will think less of you."

"I do not think less of you, Tom.  I admire you, for being able to
know yourself so well."

"You seem very...comfortable in your skin, Chakotay."

"It is a facade in large part, Tom.  Being illegitimate, I've had to
overcome all manner of prejudices.  One of the reasons I am trusted so
far with Catherine is that I would never dream of taking advantage of
our friendship. It would only do me ill, not good, so I am 'safe' even
though I am a man."

"You know, there was a rumour flying about why there were men in the
party. They were all supposedly," Tom looked wickedly at his friend,
"Eunuchs."

Chakotay threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Want me to prove it to you?" Chakotay asked when he had his emotions
under control again.

"I'll take your word for it," Tom grinned, thinking, 'at least for
now...'

"Good.  I think the librarian is watching us."

"Very likely."

"Tom...no, not yet."

"Chakotay, I think we can tell each other anything.  I know that you
will not betray my confidence, and you know you can say the same for
me."

"I just...sometimes, my illegitimacy is a curse, but I think...maybe
it could turn out to be a blessing," Chakotay whispered, turning to
leave.

"As I find my title," Tom replied, reaching for a book, then returning
it as he realised the time.

---

The rest of the day continued much as any other day at Court, but Tom
was relieved to hear yet another dashing blade had caught the
attention of Lady Castlemaine.  His jealousy of the woman was
irrational, but he knew that if she put her wiles to work, it would be
very difficult to extricate Chakotay. His relief was diminished when
he heard that the dashing blade was Charles.

As Tom spent his usual hour with the King just after he heard this, he
was unable to stop himself from blurting out a query as to how the
King could get himself entangled again with Barbara.

"If you *must* take a mistress, Charles, there must be someone
more...discreet," he finished, knowing that he had all but overstepped
the mark.

"Tom, you know that you've gone too far, and I know that it's because
you have an affection for both myself and Catherine...and no love for
Barbara.  But she pleases me, and Catherine does not object, so..."

'Catherine does not object because she knows that to do so would do
her no good,' Tom thought, but said aloud, "It is your prerogative,
Charles, but do not ask me to attend that woman.  One of my assistants
will suffice."

"Very well," Charles agreed, as Barbara had said something similar to
him earlier.

"So, Tom," Charles began a new subject, "I believe that we were going
to try to find someone for you.  Kenrick, perhaps?  His affaire de
coeur with Randle will not last."

"Never," Tom said, vehemently.

"Why not?"

"Because he didn't want me when I wasn't sure about myself, and I
think he is even less likely to now I am in such a high position," Tom
said, bitterly.

"I am sorry, Tom, I had no idea..."

"No one, except Jeremy, did," Tom replied.

"So there is no one?"

"Not at present.  Not anyone who could return the sentiment."

"There *is* someone!  Who is it?"

"Charles..."

"Do I have to make it a Royal Command?"

Tom laughed.  "No, I just...can it be between us?"

"Of course."

"It could be...Chakotay."

"What do you mean, it could be?"

"I care for him, Charles.  I do not know if he could care for me.  I
do know he has never..."

"Tom, you will never know unless  you ask him."

"I know.  But it is not easy."

"Do you think he could be 'the one'?"

"He is, I think, the 'only one'," Tom sighed, and prepared to take his
leave of his King.

"Tom, take joy where you can find it.  This life is too short to deny
oneself pleasure," Charles admonished as he left the room.

---

At the same time, in Catherine's rooms, a similar conversation was
taking place.

"Chakotay, people have been...gossiping about the time you spend with
Doctor Paris.  It is rumoured that he engages in l'amour de la
Grecque, and that you and he..."

"Would that shock you, Catherine?"

"You know that you have my love and support in anything you do,
Chakotay, but I thought that you and Sebelle were..."

"Sebelle...another in a long line of disappointments, Catherine.  I
hope this won't shock you, but not one woman I have engaged in l'arte
de faire l'amour with has ever wanted it to be more than that.  I have
proposed to a few, including Sebelle, but my...circumstances do not
allow them to take me seriously."

"Chakotay, if they truly loved you, they could get past it.  As could
you if you truly loved them."

"That's true.  I suppose it tells us something, does it not, that none
of them could overlook the problems."

"But...a man?"

"I don't think Tom is interested in me that way.  And I don't think I
am
interested in him, either."

"You don't think?"

"I really have no opinion, one way or the other.  I've never even
considered it an option, Catherine."

"Perhaps, Chakotay, you should consider the option," Catherine
replied, smilingly dismissing him as her maid came in to help her
dress for dinner.

Chakotay began thinking of the possibilities as he prepared for dinner
himself.

The first thing to do, he thought, would be to find out how Tom did
feel about him.  The whole exercise would be pointless if the younger
man only saw him as a friend.

Then Chakotay recalled the heat that had flared between them on their
first meeting.

Maybe there was something there...

---

There was no chance for Chakotay and Tom to meet for the next few
days, as Court seemed busier than it had for many months.  Charles'
sister, his beloved 'Minette' was visiting from France, without her
husband Phillipe, Louis de Soleil's brother, at which Tom breathed a
sigh of relief.  At their only meeting Phillipe had made it very clear
that he would not refuse Tom's attentions, and indeed, he was rumoured
to be a longtime practitioner of l'amour de la Grecque, throwing such
things in his wife's face according to gossip from France. Although
Henriette was rumoured to have a more than sisterly interest in King
Louis, it was still extremely churlish, in Tom's opinion, of her
husband to treat her so callously.  If he had been forced to wed, he
would have been discreet if he had continued his liaisons.  He thanked
whatever deity existed that he had not been forced into a marriage
similar to Henriette's.

There was more good news for the Court, though.  Catherine was
pregnant, and Tom was cautiously optimistic that it would result in an
heir to the throne, male or female.

The only difficulty, aside from Catherine's delicate health, was that
Barbara was also pregnant.  It was an open secret that the child was
not Barbara's husband's, and it was rumoured that Chesterfield was the
father, although there were those who thought that the child might be
the King's.

Charles had despaired that he had so many children born on the wrong
side of the blanket, although Tom knew he doted on all of them, he
longed for a child he could acknowledge in public.

One day, soon before Minette would return to France, never to return
to England, although none knew it then, Tom spoke with her.

"Tom, I always thought that men who engaged in l'amour de la Grecque
were, well, like *you*.  Kind, and gentle with women, perhaps even
more so than those who would take advantage of a woman.  But Phillipe,
and many of his friends..."

"I think, Henriette, that the men you have met, do not accept
themselves as they are, and so take their frustrations out on women,
for being able to have what they do not.  They will also take the
frustrations out on each other at times," Tom finished, his eyes
looking haunted.

"Tom, were you *assaulted*?"

"No, Henriette, not the way you are asking.  I think I might have
been, if I had not broken the relationship off when I did.  He did not
accept himself as he was, and I was not sure about myself, although I
was willing to stay with him. He chose to reject me, though."

"I think," Henriette smiled at Tom, "That it was his loss."

"You know, if I had known as a young man what I know now...I think I
might have reconsidered the offer your mother made."

"Of my hand?"

"Yes.  At least we might have had a tolerable life."

"Tom, a *tolerable* life was the last thing we wanted at the time.
But yes, if I'd known then, maybe it would have been better.  We'll
never know."

"No, we won't."

"Tom, do you ever wonder, though, if we might have finished by
resenting each other, much as my husband and I do?"

"We would never have finished as you are now, because I love you too
much."

"Ah, Tom, I'm probably the only woman you could say that to and mean
it. Well, perhaps Catherine as well."

"I love Catherine for so many reasons, but it's different to my
feeling for you.  You are like a sister to me, whereas Catherine, by
necessity of her position, can only be a dear friend.  There is one
reason to be grateful to her, though."

"Chakotay?"

"How did you know?"

"I have seen you look at him when you thought you were unobserved, and
also the way you look when his name is mentioned.  He is a good
choice, Tom."

"I do not know if the choice is available to me, though.  I wish I
could bring the subject up to him, but we are never alone long
enough."

"Tom..."  Henriette looked speculative, "Do you have any patients to
see right now?"

"No."

"Does Chakotay have anything that he does at this time?"

"No..."

"Where would I be likely to find him?"

"In the Library, or maybe with Catherine."

"Tom, I want you to go to the rose garden, and wait for half an hour.
That should be enough time," Henriette smiled innocently, but there
was a familiar gleam in her eye that Tom loved to see.  He smiled.

"Henriette, thank you.	I knew there was a reason that I loved you,"
Tom smiled as he hugged her.

Tom made his way quickly to the rose garden, enjoying the scent of the
beautiful flowers that bloomed on well-tended bushes as he made his
way to a bench that was shaded by a wall.  He leaned against the wall,
relaxing, as he waited.

It only took fifteen minutes, and Chakotay entered the garden.

"Tom?" Chakotay asked, puzzled, but not unhappy.

"Who did you think you were meeting?" Tom asked.

"I was just asked to come here.  I presumed it was Catherine."

"Actually, Henriette called you to meet me."

"Why?"

"I think she wants me to have the happiness that has eluded so many of
us from the old days.  The only one of us who ever really found it was
Andrew, my brother, and it was cut short for him."

"Why would I be a part of your happiness, Tom?"

"Chakotay...I'm sorry, I didn't realise that you didn't know."

"Tom, there are a lot of things I don't know.  There are things I
wonder about, think about, maybe sometimes even dream about, but there
are very few things that I know."

"Chakotay, I'm going to say this, because I can't go on not knowing.
Is there any chance that you and I could ever be together?"

"I would like to explore the possiblity, Tom.  I have never thought
about this before, as you know, but I find that I would like to think
about it with you."

"Chakotay, this will not be easy.  There are those who would not want
us to consider this."

"Tom, you are the one who has to worry about any reputation you may
have.  You are a Lord, and the King's physician.  You could be thrown
out of Court."

"Charles would not allow that.  And Catherine would not allow it for
you.  But you *must* be sure that you want to give up what you must
give up."

"There is nothing for me to give up.  I have no family name to
protect, no fortune to be safeguarded from those who would do me harm.
Unlike you."

"My father understands that I am as I am.  I think he would prefer me
to settle down with you, rather than spend the rest of my life alone.
It's not as if I have the need to provide him with an heir."

"Tom, I still don't know if I can let you give up what you'll have
to."

"Chakotay, you keep talking about what I will be giving up.  I look at
you, and I think of what I will gain.  I have found a companion who I
have much in common with, but not enough to make things boring,
someone who has strength that I can lean on when I need it, someone
who will lean on me when he needs to, and someone who is so beautiful,
I still find it hard to believe he would look twice at me."

"You see all of that in me?"

"Yes.  Don't you *know* what you have to offer?"

"I have only been allowed to know what I do not have.  I have no name,
no family, no fortune."

"You have a name, one of the most beautiful sounds in the world,
Chakotay. You have a family.  Myself, Charles, Catherine, Henriette,
and, I think, my father.  And you don't need a fortune, for I have
more than enough money to keep us in the style to which we are
accustomed for the rest of our lives. And you have yourself, which is
all that I want and need."

"Oh, Tom, I don't know what to say.  I...thank you.  That is so
inadequate, but it is heartfelt, please believe that.  I have not
known such contentment and happiness, and such caring since...I've
never known it."

"It's not caring, Chakotay.  I love you," Tom said the words at last,
knowing that they would, at last, be reciprocated.

"You love me?"

"Yes.  With all my heart and soul," and Tom took Chakotay into his
arms, kissing him with all the passion and love that was stored in his
heart.

Chakotay responded eagerly, learning the taste and feel of the man who
was becoming the world to him.  He moaned softly in pleasure as Tom
began lightly kissing his neck.

In their mutual pleasure, neither of the men even thought that they
might be observed.  Neither man noticed the flash of a green silk
gown, or the gleam of the sun on auburn brown hair.  And neither man
noticed the look of utter hatred on Barbara Castlemaine's hard, pretty
face.

Several minutes later, the men were still kissing, exchanging murmured
endearments, when, suddenly, they were pulled forcibly apart.

"What - ?" was all that Tom was able to say before he was held back.

Chakotay wasn't so lucky.  It seemed that Tom's assailant only wished
to stop him from going to the other man's aid.  Tom knew that the
livery the men wore was that of the House Of Castlemaine, and he was
almost blinded by the roaring in his ears of frustration and anger
that the realisation caused.

Meanwhile the other man was beating Chakotay.  Tom wondered why the
man he loved wasn't putting up more of a fight, when he realised that
Chakotay's wrists had been bound with a rope.  Tom became more
incensed at the sight of the man he loved incapacitated in that way,
and he almost didn't hear the vitriol the man holding him was hissing
into his ear.

"Unnatural, indulging in filthy depravity, not worth spitting on.
That's what men like *you* are.  Our Lady almost fainted when she saw
you two."

Tom did *not* reply to that, thinking that Barbara would not faint at
the sight of the two of them.  Not considering some of
the...entertainment she had been known to indulge in.  But he somehow
didn't think that this argument would do much good with two men who
were in the employ of, and probably enthralled by, Barbara.

Tom knew that Barbara would not dare to allow him to be hurt, that she
would ensure that he, as Charles' physician and friend would not be
incapacitated, even she would not be foolhardy enough to risk Charles'
anger.	Catherine's anger she obviously deemed too insignificant to
consider.  Tom prayed that Barbara was mistaken, as he realised that
the man he loved had lost consciousness due to the beating he was
receiving, and he determined that the Lady Castlemaine would pay for
this.  Somehow, some way, he would be revenged on the woman.  But that
was not important to him now as he watched, in impotent fury, as the
man he loved was brutally beaten because he loved Tom. A red mist
seemed to come over Tom's thoughts...

"Stop at once!" a soft but determined voice came from across the
garden.  It was Henriette, who must have been coming to see the
results of her matchmaking.

"The Lady said that if we were observed to stop," the man holding Tom
said to the man attacking Chakotay.

Tom was thrust away from the man holding him, moving quickly to catch
Chakotay as he was dropped by his attacker.  Tom's first action was to
remove the rope from Chakotay's wrists, and he didn't notice the
attackers running off. Henriette hurried over to the two men, one so
still, one half-sobbing in rage and frustration..

Chakotay remained still as Tom began examining him.  The injuries Tom
could see were mostly superficial, some cuts, bruises and rope burns
on his wrists.  There was a rather nasty lump on his forehead, which
Tom suspected was from the blow that had caused him to black out.  Tom
gently wiped some of the cuts with his pristine white handkerchief,
and Henriette knelt beside him, holding Chakotay as Tom administered
to him as best he could.

"Is he badly hurt?" she asked, softly.

"I..I don't think so.  This bruise," Tom indicated the large purple
mark on Chakotay's forehead, "Seems to be the worst injury.  It's
probably the reason he's unconscious."

"Do you know who the men were?"

"No, but I do know whose men they were.  And sh-that person will pay.
I don't know how or when, but I will not let this go unanswered."

"Tom, should he remain out here?"

"No, he should be moved inside.  There are no broken bones, and it
would be better for him to be inside.  May I ask you to fetch a guard,
please, Henriette?"

"Of course," she hurried off.

Tom stroked Chakotay's hair, wondering at the vitriol of the two men.
That had not been under orders, Tom had felt the hatred and
misunderstanding emanating from the man he had been held by.  Why did
they hate what Tom was so passionately?  It was not as if he pressed
unwanted advances on them, so why would they hate the fact that he and
Chakotay loved each other?  Could it all be chalked up to fear of the
unknown or different?	Tom knew that such questions of philosophy
were not going to be solved today, and he doubted that they would be
solved in three hundred years.  He sighed, and made himself and
Chakotay as comfortable as he could.

Henriette returned with a guard, who helped Tom carry Chakotay to
Tom's apartments unquestioningly, leaving to fetch the King as Jeremy
helped lay the Portuguese man on the bed.

"The poor gentleman," Jeremy clucked, helping Tom as he prepared herbs
and ointment to smooth over Chakotay's bruises and cuts.

As Tom smoothed the soothing cream that was made from combining herbs
and an ointment from a far land over the minor injuries Chakotay had
sustained, the rope burns and the worst bruise being more tenderly
treated, with just a light application from Tom's shaking fingers, he
almost broke down.  Only his need to care for the man he loved stopped
him.

As Tom made the last few strokes, Charles and Catherine entered the
room, Catherine moving more slowly, as her pregnancy was advancing.
Tom was still very concerned for her, and had advised her to rest as
much as possible. Unfortunately, her duties as Queen did not allow for
that to be often enough for Tom's liking.  And now she was here, and
although Chakotay would be all right, the stress that the situation
would put her under was something Tom did not like to subject her to.

As Catherine's small white hand stroked Chakotay's bronzed cheek, he
stirred, and called a name.

"Tom?"

"I'm here, my love," Tom replied, his anxiety overcoming his desire
for propriety.

Chakotay chuckled weakly at the endearment, managing a ghost of his
usual beautiful smile.

"So much for keeping things discreet."

"It's all right, Chakotay.  Only people we care for are here."

"Yes, and people who care for you," Catherine added, softly.

"I must go," Henriette murmured, "My duties as Duchess summon me."

Catherine appeared about to burst into tears, and Charles seemed not
to be too far from the same state, so Tom rushed to assure them.

"He will be all right.  Henriette got there in time."

"I will make sure that whoever those men work for is banished from
Court," Charles declared, heatedly.

"That is not possible, Charles.  I will tell you who it is later, but
be assured, it is not possible."

"The only person who is that highly ranked...  Good Lord, Barbara
wouldn't..."

"Oh, yes, she would.  Unfortunately," Tom replied.

"I will chastise her most severely," Charles answered, not willing to
give this up without a fight.

"Please, I just want to forget it.  Chakotay is all right, and that is
the most important thing," Tom smiled down at his patient.

"I agree," Chakotay echoed.

"Well, I don't," came a soft protest from Catherine, who looked
furious.  Tom knew that her anxiety over Chakotay was mixed with a
large amount of jealousy of the other woman, not the best combination
of emotions for her at the moment.

"Catherine, please sit down," Tom began, only to be cut off as she
fainted.

Tom and Jeremy immediately picked her up, carrying her quickly to her
bedchamber, followed by Charles and Chakotay, who Tom had nodded at
when asked if he could get up.  He was recovered enough, and he would
worry more if he couldn't be with Catherine now.

Catherine was moaning softly, her hands clutching at her abdomen.  Tom
felt it immediately, and he paled at the rigidity of it.  Catherine
was only four months pregnant, and it felt like she was in heavy
labour.  There was nothing he could do, but allow the child to be
born.  It could not survive.  It would not happen.

"Tom?" Charles asked, not daring to verbalise his fears.

Tom shook his head.

"Catherine?" Charles sounded distraught.

"I don't know," Tom said.  He hoped that she would survive, but even
that he could not say would happen.  It would depend on how easily she
endured the labour.  If she came through the pain of giving birth to
the stillborn child, she would recover.  But there was a chance, quite
a large one, that she would not survive the birth.

Tom worked quietly, only speaking to give Jeremy an order or two for
herbs, and hours later, he was able to deliver the child.  It didn't
even take a breath, it wasn't developed enough.  Tom cried a tear or
two, but had to staunch Catherine's bleeding.  He breathed a sigh of
relief when it was not severe, and he knew that she would recover.
She would probably, for there were never any guarantees, even be able
to have a child later.

Charles wept when he was told that she would survive.

Tom, Chakotay and Jeremy discreetly withdrew, Jeremy making a vague
excuse to the other two as they exited the rooms that he needed to
replenish the herb supplies.

Chakotay and Tom took a moment to hold each other after the trauma of
the past several hours.

"Tom," Chakotay whispered.

"Yes, my love?"

"I promised myself that the moment I got you alone, there were two
things I was going to say to you."

"Two things?"

"Yes.  The first is, I love you.  I know I should have said it
earlier,
but..." he was cut off by Tom placing a finger on his lips.

"You should never say those words because you feel that you should.
You
should say them when you are ready.  Now what's the second thing?"

"Would you please make love to me?"

Tom looked into deep brown velvet, and fell, again.

"Yes," Tom said.

And they continued walking down the marble hall, not hurrying, wanting
to savour the anticipation as much as the event.

---

Chakotay and Tom were finally alone.

The room was as they had left it, pristine as Jeremy kept it, with a
fire burning in the fireplace.

Chakotay was nervous, Tom could tell.  He well remembered his own
nervousness the first time, and he determined to mitigate his lover's
as much as he could, beginning by taking him into his arms.  Although
Chakotay was tense, he began to relax under the gentle movements of
Tom's hands over his shoulders and back.

"Don't be afraid, my love.  I'll never hurt you," Tom whispered,
before placing a gentle kiss below the ear.

"It's just...familiar, but different at the same time," Chakotay
replied, sounding less tense with each gentle kiss.

Tom smiled, and began removing Chakotay's coat.  He had already
discarded his own. After he had removed his lover's outer garment, he
began to unknot the intricately tied cravat, taking his time over it.
He grinned to himself as he thought that it was like opening the most
precious gift he could have ever been given.

"What?"

"Just thinking," Tom replied, a glint of mischief in his eye.

Chakotay decided not to push the issue, and then he couldn't think any
more, as Tom parted the sides of his shirt, and pressed a gentle kiss
to the centre of his chest.  After licking and sucking at the bronzed
skin, Tom took a nipple into his mouth. Chakotay shook under the
laving of Tom's tongue, as he teased the nipple into a hard point,
stimulating it almost unbearably, but stopping before it became
painful, moving to the other.

Chakotay was lost in a world of sensual bliss.	None of his liaisons
with women had ever felt like this.	The technique his lovers had
shown had been almost perfect, but there had never been this depth of
emotion and commitment between himself and his lover. He hissed
slightly as Tom kissed a bruise, rather enthusiastically.

"I'm sorry, my love.  I'll be more careful," Tom apologised.

"Don't be.  I was enjoying it.  Until you hit the bruise."

"Let me continue, then," Tom grinned wickedly and removed both his and
Chakotay's knee breeches, shoes and hose.  The older man almost
fainted when Tom grasped his straining erection, and gasped as Tom
knelt between his shaking legs.  Tom blew gently across the heated
flesh, causing a loud moan to erupt from deep in Chakotay's chest,
then engulfed it in his warm wet mouth.	Tom's tongue moved over
Chakotay's hardness, coaxing reactions out of his lover with the
movements of his tongue and lips.

Chakotay barely had time to register each sensation before a new one
took its place.	Tom gently felt behind him with a hand, and, to
Chakotay's shocked pleasure, breached his core with a slim finger,
moving inside him.  It was new, and so pleasurable, Chakotay clenched
around the finger.  Then the invading digit found a spot and stroked
it, and Chakotay's senses overloaded. He climaxed down the warm,
willing throat, something he hadn't ever done before, and collapsed
onto the bed.

"Oh, my," Chakotay said when he could form a coherent thought.

"Was that...all right?" Tom asked hesitantly.

"Tom, that was...indescribable.  What else can we do?"

"So much, my love.  But you're not up for most of it just yet, after
this afternoon.  But I won't let her spoil our first night."

"What can I do for you?"  Chakotay asked, kissing Tom gently, tasting
himself. He liked the sensation.

"Whatever you want to do, my love.  We have all the time in the world
to learn each other, so whatever you'd like to start with, I'm yours,"
and he lay back on the bed, body flushed with arousal, erection
sticking up in the middle of all that fair skin and golden curls.
Chakotay began running a tentative finger through the curls on Tom's
chest, finding the nubs of his nipples, stimulating them to hardness,
then tentatively licking them. Meanwhile, his hands were exploring
further down, and Tom rose off the bed, moaning, when a confident hand
grasped his erection.

"This I think I can manage," Chakotay whispered, "I know what to do
with one of these," he grinned as he ran a hand along the heated
shaft. Tom whimpered, and Chakotay smiled, then began to move faster.
Tom was already near the edge from his earlier ministrations to his
lover, and it took only a few pulls on the erection for him to erupt,
screaming, into his lover's hand.

"Wow," Tom murmured as he came back to himself.

"Did I do all right?"Chakotay asked.

"Much better than all right," Tom croaked, voice still shaky.

"It seems there are some things I don't need practice for," Chakotay
grinned.

"Seems so."

"I suppose I'd better get dressed..."

"Only if you *want* to leave."

"I thought you would want me to."

"Chakotay, I'm not letting you go, ever, now that I've found you."

"Then I'll just hold you all night, how's that?"

"All night, and forever?"

"Forever."

---

The End