The BLTS Archive - Un series #4: Undeniable by Kiff (Kiff47@yahoo.com) --- Disclaimer: Paramount is God. I am not. I make no money from this. Promise. Archiving: Okay for my page, ASCEM, BLTS. Anyone else, please ask first. Feedback: Anything except flames are welcome. If you wish to send it privately, e-mail me. --- /Waste of a perfectly good beer, Tommy-boy./ The voice of his internal wise-ass breaks through, even as Paris races down the corridor. It brings a quick smirk to his face, and then the grimace returns. He glances once behind him, but there is no wet and vengeful commander to be seen. He knows he is just delaying the inevitable. If Janeway could strip him of his rank and give him thirty days of solitary for insubordination, assaulting a superior officer will probably earn him another two weeks or so. Minimum. Tom reaches his quarters and keys himself in. He halfway expects that Tuvok and his security team will already be there, but the room is empty. He throws himself into a chair and clasps his head in his hands. /Damn fucking stupid thing to do.../ He struggles to control his breathing. Like last time, he will take his punishment with dignity. If Chakotay will finally leave him alone, it will all be worth it. Chakotay. Tom can still see him, those brown eyes following him everywhere, those full lips tilting upwards in that annoying, teasing smile. He wonders what those lips would feel like on his own, what it would be like to allow Chakotay to touch him. A groan escapes Paris and he throws his head back in despair. /You wanted to cool him off, didn't you? When it's really *you* that needs to cool off./ "Shit, shit, shit," he mutters to the ceiling. *BREEP* The goon squad is here. He stands up and turns to face the music. "Come on in, Tuvok." The door opens, and Chakotay steps inside. His face and hair are still wet, as is the front of his burgundy shirt. In shock, Tom backs away. "Ah...Ch...Commander, listen. I know I'm in big trouble here. I--I'm sorry." The older man puts his hands on his hips. His face has no expression, and Tom is not close enough to read his eyes. "If that's really the case, then you'll have to make up for it, won't you?" Tom flushes. "Well, sure. Uh...what do you want me to do?" "Get a towel." He retrieves a fresh one from his bathroom, approaches Chakotay and holds it out to him. The commander shakes his head. "No. This is *your* mess. *You* clean me up." Tom hesitates. He swallows, his color deepening by the second. "You asked, and I quote, 'what the fuck do you want with me?' *This* is what I want. Understood?" There is authority in that voice, but no hardness. Tom nods. He can do this. Chakotay relaxes his arms. Tom steps to him and wipes his face off. He reminds himself that it's not as if this is the first time he's ever touched the commander in a personal way. He's treated the man in Sick Bay; he once held him in his arms as Chakotay struggled to communicate with the aliens from chaotic space. This is relatively simple. He's just wiping beer off his body. But it's not the same. Not at all. He can smell beer, yes, but he can also smell Chakotay. He can hear the older man's breath, watch his chest rise and fall, feel the shiver as Tom moves the towel down the front of his shirt. "You should just take that off," he hears himself whisper. "I can loan you another one." "Don't bother," is the husky reply as Chakotay gently pulls the towel out of Tom's hand and drops it on the floor. Tom holds very still as Chakotay takes both his hands and places them on the front of his shirt. Tom begins to unbutton it, his heart beginning to pound, his mind fogging and not quite comprehending what is happening. The shirt lands on top of the towel. When Tom is done, he drops his head and tries to step away, but Chakotay seizes his hands again. "We both know what's going on here, Tom. Don't try to pretend with me anymore. We can help each other out. Trust me. I won't hurt you." Tom can't speak or look at Chakotay, but he nods. Chakotay moves the younger man's hands to his own hips. "Finish the job." Tom sinks to his knees and tugs the commander's pants and briefs to his ankles. Chakotay raises his feet one by one, so that the pilot can slide the clothes completely off and toss them aside. Now Tom looks up at the older man's raging erection, and an enigmatic smile crosses his face before he opens that beautiful mouth and swallows it. Chakotay gasps as the moist warmth surrounds him. Tom sucks him slowly and thoroughly, his tongue working the glans, his teeth nibbling gently at the shaft, his right hand reaching to Chakotay's balls and squeezing them in a tantalizing way. Chakotay groans, reaching out to pull Tom's head closer, stroking the soft blond hair with his thumbs. Tom shifts his position, reaching around to grab Chakotay's ass as he works the commander's prick with more intensity, enjoying the taste of the man and feeling his anticipation grow. "Ah, *Gods*, Tom..." Chakotay begins to thrust, and Tom goes with every motion. /Give it to me, big man, give it *now*/, and his wish is granted within seconds. Chakotay freezes momentarily, then lets out a shout, driving himself into Tom's mouth, pulling his hair, and finally shooting his warm seed straight down the pilot's throat. Tom holds steady, savoring the sound, sight, and taste of Chakotay's orgasm. The big man relaxes, and Tom releases his cock, wiping his mouth and looking up expectantly. Chakotay's eyes are closed, and a slight smile creases his lips. He is still holding Tom's head loosely in both his hands. Tom reaches up and takes these hands in his own. Chakotay pulls him to his feet, and the two men look at each other. "Well," Tom says. "Have I made up for what I did? Are we even?" The commander chuckles. "Yes. And no." "Huh?" "Your debt is paid. More than paid. Now I need to pay *you* off." Chakotay is speaking in short, breathy sentences. He has not yet fully recovered from his orgasm. Tom begins to understand. "You want to blow *me* now?" Chakotay shakes his head. "No. We'd better use your bed for this one. I want you to fuck me." --- The End