The BLTS Archive - Burning Fire
by Debbie K. (BlueNebula@chariot.net.au)

---

DISCLAIMER - Paramount owns the universe and all within, I'm just
borrowing the magic wand for the day to do some ... redecorating.  ;-)

INTRO - Heylo fellow lovers of Trek Smut. A while ago on the CPSG
list, someone suggested doing a C/P version of 'Blood Fever'.  See,
when someone makes a suggestion like that while I'm dosed up on
Prophets only know what the Doc gave me, I *will* go into a writing
frenzy and I *will* take up challenges like that.  So here it is, my
alternate C/P 'Blood Fever' story, being posted for the first time
outside the CPSG list...enjoy  :)

Reposting? No. Archiving? No, nowhere except for R'rain's lovely
archive. BLTS? Yes. Sharing privately with friends? Yes. Anything
else? Ask me!  :)

---

Paris looked up as the doors beside him whooshed open and shut.  "Hey
Vorik," he greeted the new arrival. "Ready to do some climbing?"  With
an audible snap he shut the equipment bag in front of him, secure in
the knowledge that all the climbing equipment was ready and packed.
B'Elanna would have no reason to pick a fight with him *this* time.
He turned around and was greeted by the sight of Ensign Vorik leaning
against a bench, jaw clenched and brows deeply furrowed in a frown of
what seemed to be concentration.

Concerned, Paris quickly dropped the bag and moved over to the young
Vulcan.  "Are you all right there Vorik?" Tom asked quickly, eyeing
Vorik warily.  Suddenly the Vulcan straightened then stumbled against
the startled Lieutenant. One hand grasped Tom's shoulder, the other
reached to his face.  Vorik seemed to be trying to say something, his
mouth forming words Tom could not understand.

The hand on his face tightened in its grip and Tom felt dizzy.  He
struggled to break Vorik's hold on him. With a sudden burst of
strength he managed to push the Vulcan away from him.  Vorik stumbled
back and slumped against the wall, eyes gazing blankly for a moment
before closing.

With a slightly shaking hand Tom reached for his communicator.

"Paris to sickbay..."

--

"So what's wrong with him, Doc?  Is he going to be okay?" Tom asked
the HoloDoc for about the fifth time in as many minutes, turning his
head so he could take a peek at Ensign Vorik who was sitting on the
edge of one of the biobeds.  "He wasn't acting very....Vulcan-ish."

The Doctor gave a sigh of exasperation as he grasped Paris' chin and
held his head firmly in place, running the dermal regenerator over the
rapidly healing bruises Vorik's grasp had left on the pilot's face.
"I believe, Mr Paris, that I'm finished with you."  He handed the
regenerator to Kes and turned to face Tom fully.  "Whatever is wrong
with Ensign Vorik is a private matter between him and me, his doctor.
In other words, I'm not going to tell you, so get going now or you'll
miss the away team beam down," the Doctor finished firmly.

Paris gave a mock salute.  "Aye, aye, Doc!"  He strode out of sickbay,
absentmindedly touching his newly healed face where the bruises had
been just a few moment previously.

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief as the doors hissed shut behind
Paris.  While the man was one of the first to treat the hologram like
a real person, the Doctor sometimes wondered whether that was a
blessing or a curse.  It meant he had had to put up with the man's
obnoxious behaviour and warped sense of humour from the very beginning
of his activation.  Pushing that aside from his immediate attention,
the Doctor turned to his assistant.  "Kes, would you please leave us
for a few moments? There is something...private I need to discuss with
Ensign Vorik," he explained.

Kes nodded.  "Of course Doctor.  I'll be in the mess hall with Neelix
if you need me."  A few moments later Kes left sickbay carrying a data
PADD.

Now that sickbay was deserted save for Ensign Vorik and himself, the
Doctor turned and walked towards his patient. Vorik was still sitting
on the edge of the biobed, hands steepled in front of him.  He looked
up as the Doctor stopped before him.

"Yes Doctor?" The Vulcan's usually calm and collected voice had a
slight edge that the Doctor hadn't heard before.

The Doctor took a deep breath, though he didn't really need it.
"Ensign," he began.  "The readings I have gathered from you are very
concerning and there's only one explanation that I can reach.  You're
going through the Pon Farr, aren't you....?"

---

A short time later, equipment bad securely at his side, Paris bounded
into transporter room 3, the last to arrive. He flashed a grin at
B'Elanna, Neelix and Chakotay before hurriedly asking "So, we all set
to go?"

B'Elanna made a few final checks of the transporter co-ordinates and
nodded.  "We just got a call from the Doc informing us that Vorik's
not beaming down with us, so we're all here now.  We should beam down
right outside the entrance to one of the mine tunnels," she told the
group.  "We all should have a pretty good idea of the drops we're
going to be going down if everyone read the sensor readouts given out
earlier."  She pulled her own pack onto her back and secured it tight
before continuing.  "It should be pretty easy to get to the gallasite
if we take it slow and don't act like hot shots while climbing down."
That last remark was spoken with a pointed glance in Tom's direction.

Paris didn't give his usual smart-ass retort. Instead he hopped onto
the transporter pad, turned and grinned widely at the group.  "So
let's get going if that's all we need to know!"

The rest of the group took their places on the transporter.  While
Neelix chatted on about various climbing expeditions he had partaken
in, Chakotay was watching Paris. The pilot couldn't seem to keep
still.  His hands were constantly moving - fiddling with the straps of
his equipment bag, smoothing down a wrinkle in his jumpsuit.  He
caught a quick glimpse of the pilot's eyes as Paris looked up at him.
How could Chakotay explain it, slightly....glazed?  Too bright? Before
Chakotay could ask Paris whether he was all right or not B'Elanna
nodded to the transporter operator and the familiar tingling feel of
the transporter beam washed over him.

Moments later the group materialised on the planet's surface, right
outside of a tunnel entrance just as B'Elanna had predicted.  Torres
flipped out her tricorder and led the way, the rest of the group
following closely behind.  Chakotay kept a close eye on Tom but the
pilot seemed fine now if not a little... eager.

They reached the first drop within a few minutes. Setting up their
equipment the group scaled down the steep drop quickly and Chakotay
was quick to note that Paris had been waiting for them at the bottom
for a good minute or so before the rest of the group reached him.
Chakotay frowned.  This was not the place for the pilot to be showing
off his climbing skills to the point of making reaching the bottom a
*race*. But Paris didn't seem to be gloating over being the first one
down, instead he seemed to be *very* eager to keep moving. Chakotay's
frowned deepened, but as Paris wasn't behaving recklessly - *yet* his
mind whispered - so there was nothing to reprimand him about.
Chakotay decided to keep a close eye on the lieutenant instead.

B'Elanna took the lead again, walking purposely until they reached a
point where the tunnel forked in two directions. There she stopped, a
puzzled expression on her face as she contemplated her tricorder
readings.

"Well?"  Tom asked impatiently.  "What's wrong?"

Torres just shook her head.  "It's so strange," she began, turning to
face the group.  "The gallasite readings were *very* strong as we were
walking down the tunnel, but here they just....weaken."

"Weaken?" Chakotay asked.  "In what way?"

"It's like the signal's divided into two," the engineer tried to
explain.  "The readings are coming from both sides of the fork, but
only half as strong as what I was reading before."

"So let's split into two groups and search both tunnels," a slightly
strained interrupted.  All of them turned to face Paris.  He was
leaning against the side of the tunnel, his breath coming quicker than
usual.  By their wrist lights they could see a faint flush dusting his
cheeks.

Neelix stepped forwards.  "Tom?"  The Talaxian queried. "Are you all
right?"

Tom straightened quickly.  "I'm fine," he replied, brushing aside the
group's mutual concern.  "I just want to get moving.  We're not
achieving anything just standing here." His voice sounded almost
agitated.

"Tom's right," B'Elanna agreed.  "I'll go with Tom down the right
tunnel, and Chakotay can go down the left tunnel with Neelix."
B'Elanna looked up at her old Maquis captain for his approval with
this decision.

Chakotay was looking carefully at Tom whilst B'Elanna was speaking.
The pilot's breathing rhythm was changing rather rapidly and beads of
sweat dotted his forehead. He heard the question in B'Elanna's voice
and paused, quickly coming to a decision.  "I'll go with Tom,
B'Elanna, you go with Neelix."

B'Elanna opened her mouth as if to protest but quickly shut it with
one look from Chakotay.  She nodded and motioned for Neelix to follow
her.

Once B'Elanna had disappeared down the tunnel with Neelix Chakotay
allowed himself a small smile.  He knew B'Elanna understood that his
changing of her decision was not made due to lack of trust, but
because if Paris *was* agitated and was foolish enough to try provoke
B'Elanna, all hell would break loose.  And this way, at least,
Chakotay would be able to keep an eye on Paris just in case something
*was* wrong with him.

A scuffling noise beside him captured his attention and Chakotay
turned to find Paris standing up, pack on his back, looking at him
expectantly.  "All ready, Commander?" the pilot asked.

Chakotay paused before nodding.  He fastened his pack and they began
down the tunnel, Chakotay trying to keep pace with Paris' quick steps.

They reached the end of the tunnel with no sighting of gallasite and
turned to go back the way that they'd come. All the while walking
Chakotay kept throwing glances at Paris. The man was obviously not in
good health.  His breathing was shallow, skin an odd colour and any
attempts to ask if anything was wrong were brushed aside or just
ignored.  Chakotay just hoped that they'd get back to Voyager *soon*.

Suddenly, a low rumble echoed through the empty passages, causing the
men to halt immediately.  "What the hell was that?" Chakotay murmured
none too quietly as he flipped out his tricorder.  Beside him Paris
did the same.

"Seismic activity," Paris reported curtly just as another rumble
echoed, this time causing some dirt to fall to the ground from above
them.  Chakotay's tricorder confirmed what Paris had just told him.

"Why didn't Voyager's scanners pick anything up?" he asked to himself
as he fiddled with the tricorder trying to get a clearer reading.

The ground moved again and this time both men began moving back
quickly the way they came.  "The tricorder's are barely registering
any activity and from the looks of things we're right on top of it,"
Paris called over the increased rumbling.  He pocketed his tricorder
and broke into a run. Chakotay quickly followed suit.

They only made it a few steps.  Suddenly the loudest rumble yet echoed
through the caves followed by eerie silence. Chakotay hesitated, Paris
stopping a few steps ahead.  It was too quiet.  Soon silence was
replaced by a quiet noise, the sound of dirt loosening.  Falling dirt
formed a swirling cloud by the light of their wrist lights in front of
them. Chakotay tilted his head, the sudden realisation of what that
sound indicated hitting him square in the stomach.

"Paris, get back!"  He reached forwards and grabbed Tom's arm, yanking
the other man back as he himself rushed backwards.  They moved none
too soon, falling rocks missing them by mere inches.  Paris yanked his
arm back fiercely from Chakotay's grasp.  He turned to face the older
man, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Why the hell did you yank me back like that? Jesus, give a guy a
little warning before you go ripping his arm out his socket!"  The
pilot ran a hand quickly through his dirt- powdered hair, dust rising
in the air with the movements. He looked down disgustedly at his hand
before wiping it on his jumpsuit.  "Jesus," he muttered before
reaching down to pick up his tricorder.

Chakotay stared at the pilot for a moment before his gaze narrowed to
a glare.  He could feel the anger boiling inside of him and he
struggled to keep it in check.  "Why did I yank you back like that?"
he fumed quietly at Paris. "If I hadn't you'd be buried under half a
ton of fallen tunnel so a little gratitude wouldn't go astray."

"You're right, you're right.  I'm sorry, okay?"  Paris was pacing now,
his brow creased in a frown.  Chakotay felt his anger slip away to be
replaced by concern and alarm. Something *had* to be wrong with Tom.
He took a long look at the pilot.  He was edgy, nervous-like, his
moods swinging like a pendulum.  Chakotay reached out a hand and
grabbed Paris' arm, halting him in his tracks.

"What's *wrong* with you Paris?" Chakotay demanded. "Something is
seriously wrong here."

At the touch of Chakotay's hand Paris froze, awareness of the man's
closeness shooting up his arm to his brain and through his body like a
torrent.  He turned and faced the Commander, his eyes fixing on the
man's mouth. Paris felt his pulse quicken, a fire spread through his
body and before he knew it he launched himself at Chakotay, pushing
his body against the wall of the tunnel.

Chakotay stumbled back, an exclamation of surprise smothered by Paris'
lips on his.  Tom was kissing him. Quick, thorough, desperate kisses.
His tongue stroked to roof of Chakotay's mouth as Tom's hands fiercely
gripped his shoulders.  Chakotay was too shocked to do anything for a
moment before realisation slammed into him.  With a burst of strength
me managed to push Tom away and stared at the pilot, breathing hard.

Tom stayed standing over him, glazed blue eyes locked with his gaze.
Chakotay felt himself unable to move until suddenly Tom's eyes
unclouded then widened in shock.  The pilot pushed himself back a few
shaky steps, still staring at Chakotay.  Tom groaned and turned away.

"Dear God, I'm sorry, I'm *so* sorry.  I don't know what....why the
hell did I...?  Jesus, what's *happening* to me?"  Paris was muttering
as he stepped back, the final sentence almost yelled out as he slid
down against the wall of the tunnel, landing in a sitting position on
the ground beneath him.

Chakotay moved to step over to Paris when a voice came over his
communicator.

"Torres to Chakotay.  Commander, can you hear me?" The half-Klingon's
voice was slightly frantic.

Chakotay slapped his badge quickly.  "I'm here B'Elanna, so's Paris.
What happened?  Where are you?"

"Neelix and I are at the entrance to your tunnel. We rushed down here
as soon as the seismic activity finished. We couldn't get any clear
tricorder readings and your lifesigns were so faint we thought..."

"We're okay, B'Elanna," Chakotay interrupted her. "We're at the
opposite end of the tunnel to you.  We're stuck here, the seismic
activity collapsed the roof and walls blocking our way.  I suggest you
get out of these tunnels *now* and try work your way around to the end
of this tunnel on the outside."

"How's Tom?  He seemed a little .... edgy before, is he all right
now?"  Neelix blurted out over the commlink.

Chakotay paused, remembering the kiss a few minutes previous, and knew
B'Elanna picked up on his pause.

"Chakotay?"

"Everything's fine," Chakotay told them firmly. "Just get out of the
tunnels and inform Voyager of our situation."

There was a pause on B'Elanna's end before the engineer's voice came
filtering through.  "Aye, sir."  The commlink was shut down.

Once again Chakotay fixed his gaze on the lieutenant and froze.
Piercing blue eyes burned with hunger, desire, confusion and finally
fear.  "What the hell's happening to me?" the pilot moaned quietly
before gasping, clutching his head in his hands.

Shaking his head quickly to break himself from the pull in the man's
eyes, Chakotay pulled out his tricorder and ran it over the shaking
body of the pilot.  Body temperature up, that was plain to see,
and...something else.  Chakotay looked closer at the readings.  It
wasn't a medical tricoder, so its readings couldn't be taken at face
value, but was that a chemical imbalance the tricorder was picking up.
They couldn't get a beam out, for some reason lifesigns were *very*
hard to pick up on while in this tunnel system so that option was
unavailable. Chakotay looked carefully at the trembling lieutenant for
a moment before slapping his commbadge.

"Chakotay to sickbay..."

---

"Lieutenant Tuvok, surely there must be some other way to help Vorik
with the Pon Farr!  I'm not sure these meditation techniques are doing
any good.  Some spikes in his brain activity are calming down why
others rise alarmingly. I tell you, this is *not* healthy!"

Tuvok, face impassive as ever, waited for the Doctor's torrent of
words to end before once again repeating what he had been saying for
the past half hour.

"Doctor," Tuvok began.  "The Pon Farr is a private time and though you
believe you would be helping by studying Ensign Vorik's condition, you
would only be making things harder for him.  He needs absolute silence
and no interruptions what so ever if he is to succeed in his
meditations."

"Yes, but how do we *know* if it will be too late to help him if he
fails?" the Doctor persisted.

Tuvok leveled his gaze at the HoloDoc.  "We will know that when no
readings are seen on your monitors."

Even the Doctor had to stop at that.  A look of resignation fell over
his features and he glared at the Vulcan for a second. Tuvok merely
nodded and walked calmly out of sickbay.

"Vulcans," the Doctor muttered before turning back to his monitors.
However, sickbay was finally silent and the Doctor allowed himself a
small smile.

"Chakotay to sickbay."

*It was nice while it lasted* the Doctor thought before acknowledging
the hail.  "This is the Doctor, how can I help you Commander?"

"Something's wrong with Lieutenant Paris," Chakotay's voice informed
him over the comm link.  "I'm uploading my tricorder readings of him
to you now."

The Doctor walked over to another monitor where Lieutenant Paris'
tricorder readings were being sorted. His eyes read the readings
intently, widening when he suddenly saw the similarities between
Paris' readings and Vorik's...

"Commander, please wait a moment.  I need to consult with Lieutenant
Tuvok on this matter."

The Doctor commed Tuvok and rushed around sickbay in a flourish of
activity while down in a dark tunnel on the planet below Chakotay
watched, helpless, as Tom Paris' condition worsened.

---

"He's got *what*?"  Chakotay demanded, hoping that he had misheard
what Tuvok had told him.

"He has the Pon Farr," Tuvok repeated.  "When Ensign Vorik began to
initiate the mating bond between himself and Lieutenant Paris he, for
lack of a better word, infected Lieutenant Paris with the same
chemical imbalance that he himself is suffering."

Chakotay slumped back against the wall of the tunnel. Pon Farr.  Sweet
spirits that meant...

"And what can be done about Paris' condition?" Chakotay asked, praying
that the Doctor had miraculously discovered a way to counteract the
effects of Pon Farr.

There was a long pause before Tuvok began to speak once more.  "There
are three known ways to 'treat' the Pon Farr and purge the Blood
Fever.  One is the ritual fight to claim one's mate which clearly does
not apply to Mr Paris' situation.  The second is a series of strict
meditations, difficult even for most Vulcans.  The third..." there was
another pause.  "...is to mate."

Once again silence grabbed hold of the awkward situation.  Once again
the Doctor's voice, as per usual, broke through the silence, and this
time Chakotay was grateful for it.

"Try get Mr Paris out of the tunnels, Voyager should be able to get a
lock onto you then.  Get him into sickbay and I can try a number of
possible treatments on him.  Unfortunately I have no idea as to
whether these treatments will be successful or not because some people
still cling to tedious, old fashion treatments rather than use modern
medicine."  Chakotay could picture the Doc glaring darkly at a
indifferent Tuvok back on Voyager.

Chakotay cleared his throat before speaking.  "And what will happen to
Mr Paris if these 'treatments' are administered too late?"

"Then Mr Paris will die," the Doctor replied, tone switching from
sarcasm to graveness without pause.

"Understood.  Chakotay out."  Chakotay terminated the communication
and stared at his tricorder.  He had been monitoring Paris during his
conversation with the Doctor, and the man's body temperature had risen
another two degrees. Damn.  He pocketed the tricorder and stepped over
to Paris. He knelt down and as gently as he could shook the younger
man's shoulder.

"Come on Paris, wake up.  We need to get you out of here."

It was the pressure on his shoulder that finally woke him up.  The
slight touch that it was sent fire...desire...agony racing through his
body so much so that he gasped and tried to move away.  A sound...a
voice was breaking through the haze surrounding his mind and Tom
frowned, straining to understand the words being spoken.  The pressure
on his shoulder increased and Tom gasped again.  This time his body
moved into the touch. He began to move involuntarily, his hands
reaching up and finding strong shoulders to grip tightly.  Hauling
himself up using the found shoulders as leverage, Paris pressed his
body against the warmth he was drawn to.  His eyes stared blindly at
the person in front of him, finally recognising the person as
Commander Chakotay but by then his mind didn't care.

His mouth claimed Chakotay's, drinking up the startled whimper that
the man made as his tongue gained entrance to the other man's mouth.
It was almost like drinking life, the sensations coursing through his
body, aching and exhilarating at the same time.

Chakotay froze initially, the intensity of the other man's actions a
shock.  They when Paris kissed him, Chakotay was ready to shove the
man back as hard and as quickly as he could. But then he paused and
then maybe instinct took over because Chakotay was kissing Tom back as
thoroughly as he could.  Damn, it had been so long since he'd been
with anyone.

A soft growl echoed in the silent cavern and Tom pulled the now
willing body tighter against his own.

*You want him, you always have.  Give in to the temptation, don't deny
yourself,* a voice whispered seductively in Tom's mind.

It's true, Paris thought, breathing hard.  It was true, he wanted this
person, he wanted Chakotay.  He always had, always been denying
himself...

WITH GOOD REASON!!!  part of him screamed back.  The man hates you,
loathes you, what you're doing is knocking the 8-ball!!!  He'll *kill*
you for this.

The conflict in his mind was almost as painful as the heat surging
through him.  Paris groaned and tore his mouth away from Chakotay's,
panting.  The voices in his mind screamed, demanding he continue.  He
couldn't, oh God he couldn't.  What the *hell* was he doing?  And why,
why in heaven's name was Chakotay *allowing* him to do this???

Paris backed away from Chakotay hurriedly, his eyes darting wildly
from the Commander to the walls of the enclosed cavern they were
trapped in as if searching for a means of escape.  His hands groped
blindly behind him as he moved.  He finally felt solid rock and pushed
himself back hard, almost grinding himself against the stone wall
behind him.  His hands clenched tightly at the protruding rocks, so
much so that even from his distance and with the lack of light
Chakotay could see a fine line of blood slowly creep down the pilot's
whitened knuckles on his right hand.

Now Tom's eyes were fixed intently on Chakotay, his gaze reminding
Chakotay of a starving wolf eying the first morsel of food it had seen
for days.  A wolf that would devour without regret or pause.  Slightly
nervous, remembering the heat and ferocity of a few seconds previous,
Chakotay licked his lips and approached once more, stopping short at
the low rumble that came from Paris' direction.  Now he could see the
faint tremors that shuddered through the pilot's body, could clearly
hear the man's shallow breathing.

"Keep... keep back!  I can't... hold... myself... back much...
longer,"  Paris managed between breaths.  Each exhale was beginning to
resemble a quiet growl now.

Undeterred Chakotay stepped forward again stopping a metre away from
Paris.  Up close Chakotay could see the strain on the younger man.
His face was tense, jaw set, his eyes narrowed and glazed.  His face
was the odd combination of pale and flushed that came with fever of
any sort, skin covered with a light sheen of sweat.  His gaze wandered
down, down to where Tom's erection caused quite a noticeable bulge
through the form fitting grey jumpsuit.  Chakotay swallowed quickly at
the sight - one of upmost arousal.

Quickly he looked up again.  "Give in to it Paris," Chakotay murmured
quietly, breathlessly.  He blinked and spoke louder.  "Do it!  You
have no choice.  You die if you don't. Give in to it."

*...give into the temptation...*


A whine came from Tom and he pushed himself impossibly closer against
the wall.

"If ... I do... I'll be in... so... much... shit you'll ... kill .. me
because... of what I did," the blonde ground out between breaths which
were quickly becoming gasps.

Chakotay ground his teeth in frustration.  "Dammit Paris, you're going
to die!" he exploded.  "Just *do* it."

*...you want him, you always have....*


There was a pause for a moment where Paris watched the Commander
intently.  His ragged breathing softened in volume as he contemplated
the other man's words.  He tensed.  Then, with a half-strangled growl
Paris lurched himself forward, pushing off against the rocks with his
hands hurling his weight forwards. Chakotay stumbled back as Tom
pushed closer against his body, the pilot's hands almost painfully
grasping his shoulders. Chakotay gasped at the sudden assault,
stumbling backwards and against a wall.  He hit it hard, then was
pushed back more firmly as Paris ground himself against Chakotay's
body.   Through the material of their jumpsuits Chakotay could feel
Paris' erection pushing up against his belly.

Still Tom was pushing against Chakotay, almost as if the physical
contact between them was too little, not enough. Chakotay felt his
feet slip out from under him and he slid to the ground, Paris falling
on top of him.  Now Paris was at his throat, lips gliding across the
bronzed skin, teeth scraping reddening paths along the way.  Chakotay
couldn't help the moan that escaped him as he involuntarily thrust his
hardening erection up against Tom's hard counterpart.  He felt more
that heard Paris' growl/moan - the sudden pressure of his teeth biting
Chakotay's skin, the quick exhalation of breath against sensitised
skin.

It was like a hunger burning deep within him, a hunger that could only
be satisfied by nipping, licking, biting every bit of Chakotay's
exposed skin.  The man's neck and jaw were a tempting feast and Tom
indulged.  He captured a section of Chakotay's neck, teased it lightly
with his teeth, tasted it firmly with his tongue.  The taste...nothing
like it.  Salty, spicy, heady....exquisite.  *More!* his mind demanded
and Paris bit down a little bit harder.  He could feel the man moving
beneath him in response to his actions.  Paris released the now moist
flesh and travelled his mouth further up Chakotay's throat.

Now it was Chakotay pulling Tom harder against his body.  He could
feel the solid surface of the ground beneath his back, the hard
physique of the man pinning him down.  Tom growled quietly again and
thrust against Chakotay.  Another moan escaped the Commander's lips
quickly to be smothered by the presence of Tom's mouth.  The pilot's
lips suckled on Chakotay's lower lip for a moment before shifting to
totally cover the older man's mouth.  His tongue pushed in through
willing lips, snaking through Chakotay's mouth to find then mate with
the other man's tongue.  He felt Chakotay suck hard on his tongue and
groaned. Chakotay pushed against the ground with his hands, moving
himself into a semi-seated position with Tom still draped over him,
his kisses intense.  His hands snaked around the other man's waist and
with a quick tug he pulled the pilot closer against him.  Tom shifted
on his knees, his legs on either side of Chakotay's.  He moved his
mouth to Chakotay's jaw, sucking and nipping almost frantically on the
angle he found there.

Through the red-hot haze running through his mind which was
overloading his senses, Tom felt the Commander's hands reach and clasp
around his neck, pulling his head down for another thorough kiss.
Impatiently Tom tugged at the back of Chakotay's uniform, a growl of
frustration escaping from him when he couldn't unfasten the catch
there.  Quickly he tore at the catch, grinning at the sound of tearing
material.  Easily he pulled the jumpsuit down over Chakotay's
shoulders, impatiently tugged it off his arms.  He stopped at the
waist, not by his own violation but because suddenly Chakotay's hands
hand clamped over his.  Tom tried to break free then froze when he
felt Chakotay's lips at his throat.

Teeth dragged across his heated skin, biting with just the right
amount of pressure.  Tom gasped as his head lolled back, exposing more
of his neck.  Against his skin he could feel Chakotay's grin but by
now he was too far gone to care about it. He was lost.  Lost in the
sensation, the intensity, the *feel* of the other man....it was so
intense, it had *never* been like this with anyone before, *ever*.

Chakotay used Tom's distraction to his advantage.  A hand reached back
and quickly undid the catch at the back of Tom's jumpsuit.  Still
administrating to Tom's neck Chakotay managed to roll the jumpsuit
down to the man's waist.  Now they were both naked to the waist.

Maybe it was the sudden feel of cool air against his heated skin that
alerted him to his new state of undress, maybe it was the sudden
withdrawal of those magical hands on his body. Tom opened his eyes and
straightened, eyeing the Commander's naked chest.   Both men's chests
were heaving - Tom's more-so. Tom froze, then prowled forward, eyes
intent before pouncing once again on Chakotay.   The Commander
willingly fell back against Paris' new assault, arching slightly as
the pilot began attacking his body with touches, licks, caresses and
nips.  Tom tweaked the older man's nipples into hard points and was
rewarded with a moan. Then he felt Chakotay return the favour and Tom
found himself moaning too.

Then there was another searing rush from the Pon Farr, the sensation
dancing under his skin bordering on being too much to handle.
Chakotay felt it to in the sudden stiffening of the younger man on top
of him, then the frenzied hands tugging down on his trousers.
Chakotay helped him along, kicking his boots off to some corner of the
cavern before lifting his hips to slide down the trousers.  Now he was
naked and found that Tom was too. Somehow the pilot must have finished
stripping while he was stripping Chakotay.

Tom stretched out, movements fluid, and covered as much of Chakotay as
he could with his body.  There was a mutual hiss of satisfaction at
the contact of hot skin against hot skin. Instincts began to take over
as he moved against Chakotay, his hard cock sliding against the other
man's sweat-slicked belly, occasionally bumping into contact with the
Commander's erection.

This continued for a few moments, both men lost in the sensation, the
pleasure....  Suddenly Tom's back arched.  His breath hissed through
gritted teeth and he frantically tried to pull Chakotay tighter still
against him.  Chakotay opened his eyes, not remembering when he had
shut them.

"Wha-what's wrong?" Chakotay managed to gasp.

Tom shook his head.  He shut his eyes and whimpered as his back arched
once more.  Chakotay's eyes widened.  "Tom, what's wrong?" he asked
louder.

"Not enough....too little not enough I need...more," Tom gasped.  His
eyes shut once more and his grip on Chakotay tightened.  Even as Tom
spoke Chakotay could feel the man's hips moving against him.

Quickly Chakotay pried Tom away from him and held him at arm's length.
"I know what you need," Chakotay murmured, his fingers flexing against
Tom's muscled shoulders.  His right hand crept down to cup Tom's
erection.  Tom groaned once - long and loud.  The hand moved firmly
for a moment or two, spreading the precome over Tom's cock as evenly
and efficiently as possible. After spitting on his hand once or twice
Chakotay began his ministrations once more.  This time the hand glided
smoothly. Chakotay pulled back, turned around and dropped to his
knees, lowering himself onto his forearms.

No words were spoken.  Trembling, Tom spat on his fingers a few times.
Using his saliva as a lubricant Tom began to swirl his fingers around
Chakotay's opening.  He quickly pushed two fingers in and began to
stretch the tight ring of muscle hindering his entrance.  Part of
Tom's mind was still coherent enough to remember the importance of
this procedure but the growing urgency of the Pon Farr was already
taking control of his actions.  His movements were quick, bordering on
rough as his fingers moved quickly.

At the initial rough stretch Chakotay recoiled instinctively. He
stilled himself, bit his lip and bowed his head.  The stretch was a
little too fast, a little too rough but ... oh!  He moaned as searing
pain turned into red-hot pleasure.  Now instinct had him pushing back
against Tom's fingers as a groan escaped from him.

Tom felt the Commander's push back, heard the guttural groan that
seemed to rumble through the man's body and Tom trembled. He withdrew
his fingers and shifted closer positioning himself behind Chakotay,
the blunt head of his cock resting against Chakotay's loosened
opening.  Tom's hands moved to Chakotay's waist and gripped there
tightly as he began to push in firmly, trying to control the building
urge to slam in.

Chakotay clenched his hands at the invasion, his breath catching as
pleasure began to boarder on pain once more.  The hands on Chakotay's
waist trembled slightly as Tom pushed in full to the hilt.  Chakotay
closed his eyes and released a shaky breath he didn't know he had been
holding.  Above him Paris did the same.

The blonde felt a moment of calm and rested his cheek against
Chakotay's back, inhaling the warm musky scent of the man. He snaked
an arm around Chakotay's waist, his other hand crept down to curl
around his erection.  Tom moved his hand slightly, indulging himelf in
the slick satiny feel of the other man, Chakotay moaned at the hand's
movement, his body shaking slightly.

The movement jarred through Tom at their connection.  He clenched his
eyes shut and with a murmured "Oh, God" he began to move.

"Ah!" Chakotay exclaimed as Paris withdrew slightly before pushing
back in hard.  All pain gave way to glorious pleasure which pulsed
around and through him.  The hand covering his erection began to move
as well and unconsciously Chakotay began to rock forwards and
backwards to meet Tom's movements.

The cavern echoed with the erratic, laboured breathing of the two men
as they moved against each other.  The occasional cry of pleasure
broke through this curtain of sound, usually punctuated by a thrust or
push.

Movements quickened.  Chakotay grunted as he pushed back harder,
quicker onto Tom who in turn gasped as he pushed forward at an
increased, irregular pace.

Chakotay felt the body above him stiffen as Tom reached his peak.
Tom's grip around his waist tightened and pulled him back hard, at the
same time as he pushed himself forwards in one final thrust.  A yell
of "Dear *God* Chakotay!" escaped from his lips as Paris' climax shook
him.  The hand encircling Chakotay's erection tightened and a moment
later Chakotay spurted his release into Tom's hand with a whimpered
groan.

Both men collapsed, Chakotay sandwiched between the ground and the
leaden weight of Tom Paris.  He slipped out from under Tom, sat up and
rolled the pilot over.  Tom's blonde hair was now dark, damp locks
clinging to his forehead which Chakotay absentmindedly brushed back
into place.  He sat up straighter, pulling Tom further into his arms.
He could feel Tom's breathing steadying though still the occasional
gasp flitted through the rhythm.  His eyes were closed.

Pausing a moment to catch his own breath Chakotay managed to whisper
"Tom?"

Tom tilted his head back in the direction of Chakotay's voice and
opened his eyes, glazed slightly but not muting the piercing blue.
Tom blinked, frowned as though trying to remember something, then he
stiffened.  Quickly he rolled out of Chakotay's arms and moved away
slightly.  "Where are the...?"  Tom began to ask before breaking off
as his hand brushed along something material. He grabbed his jumpsuit,
tossed Chakotay's over to him and began to quickly dress himself.

Chakotay eyed the other man's hurried movements for a moment before
dressing himself.  He moved slowly, carefully, in contrast to Tom's
rapid movements.  Once they were dressed and sitting down, Tom further
along the wall his posture stiff, Chakotay began to speak.
"Par-Tom..."

Blue eyes met his gaze.  "Yes Commander?" Tom replied.

Chakotay opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head.
"Nothing," he finished.

Paris nodded and stared straight ahead.  Both remained in silence
until the scraping sounds of rocks being moved filled the cavern.
Quickly they stood up and rushed to the source of the sound, once
there beginning to tug down rocks as well.  Soon a beam of light
filtered through a gap.  Paris dug his fingers into the gap, felt warm
flesh meet his touch from the other side before he quickly pulled one
of the bigger rocks free.  Now they could see B'Elanna's face.

"Thank Kahless we found you!"  she exclaimed as she grasped at another
rock.  Everyone's efforts intensified and soon Chakotay and Paris were
crawling through the largish gap they had created. Once through
B'Elanna ran a tricorder quickly over them, frowning when she came to
scan Tom.  "What the...?" she frowned.  She looked up at the men, eyes
quizzical.  "But Tuvok said you...."

Tom laid a hand over hers and shut the tricorder.  "It's all taken
care of," he told her quietly.  Quickly he removed his hand and
stepped back.  "Let's just get back to the ship," he continued.

From the Klingon genetics passed down to her from her mother, B'Elanna
had inherited her physical strength as well as a sharp sense of smell.
And something was causing this sharp sense of smell to send tingles
down her spine.  Using the pretence of wiping some dirt from her nose,
B'Elanna sniffed again...and froze.  Sex.  Kahless, *that's* what she
could smell.  B'Elanna's eyes widened as she looked from Tom, to
Chakotay, then back again. Quickly she tapped her communicator.
"Torres to Voyager, we found them."

"Acknowledged," came the rapid reply.  "We're beaming them directly
into sickbay."

She stepped back as Tom and Chakotay were encased in the transporter
beam.  Once they had shimmered from view she stepped back and headed
towards Tuvok.  They had a rescue team to round up.

---
One Day Later...
---

Chakotay hurried down the hall to the nearest turbolift. He'd just
finished writing up a report of what had happened down in the mines as
discretely as he possibly could and was now on his way to hand it to
the Captain before he found another convenient excuse to hold off
giving it to her.   He stopped at the turbolift and summoned it,
looking through his report as he waited.  He prayed the Captain would
not find any need to call him in to go over it later.

The turbolift door whooshed open.  Chakotay looked up... .... and
found his eyes locked with Tom Paris' startled blue gaze.

Hesitating for only a moment Chakotay stepped in, stating his
destination.  Silence fell in the turbolift, neither man seemed to
manage to drop his guard in the other's company.

Finally Chakotay sighed in frustration and ordered "Computer, halt
turbolift."  He turned to face Paris who was now facing him, a wary
look clouding his eyes.   "Look, Tom," Chakotay began, purposely using
the other man's given name.

The younger man looked at him, face set like stone.  "Yes, Commander?"

Chakotay frowned slightly at this but continued anyway. "What happened
on the planet, we can't let it..."

"What happened on the planet was something neither of us had any
choice in," Tom broke in.  "I was under the influence of a Vulcan
chemical imbalance and you did what you had to do to keep Voyager's
pilot alive."  He spoke so matter-of-factly.

"What happened on the planet," Chakotay began again.   "We can't let
it come between us on or off duty.  It's not healthy for the crew to
have the tension such as this between two of the bridge officers."

Tom continued to stare at the wall.  Chakotay stifled a sigh.  Damn
it, it was hard enough to work this out in his mind now Paris was
making it almost impossible to work out in real life. "I did have a
choice Tom," Chakotay said quickly.  Paris looked up at that.  "I
could have left you, just as you could have at the Ocampa homeworld" -
Chakotay noticed a slight reaction in Paris' eyes at that comparison -
"but I didn't."

"Wishing you had made the other choice now, Chakotay?" Paris said
after a moment's pause.

Chakotay considered a moment.  "Maybe....maybe wishing I had that
choice to make again."

Chakotay waited for a reaction but got none.  Those words hung between
them until the turbolift reached Paris' destination.  As the blonde
stepped out of the lift he finally spoke.

"Be careful what you wish for, Commander, you might just get it."

As Tom's back was to Chakotay he never saw the way the Commander's jaw
dropped slightly, or the gleam that flickered in his eyes.  Similarly,
Chakotay never saw the tiny grin that Paris wore as he walked down the
corridor away from the lift.

The doors closed, breaking their contact.  The turbolift continued on
its journey.

---

The End