The BLTS Archive- My Chakotay #1: My Chakotay by MaisieRita (MaisieRita@aol.com) --- copyright 1998 Well. Well, well, well. I don't know what came over me. I swear I don't. I don't write stories like this. Twisted psychological stories like this are Mona and BratKatze's domain, and I stay out of it. But I couldn't help myself! I even broke one of my cardinal rules and used the word "cum" in a story. I don't like that word. I don't use that word. Yet, there it is. Enjoy, if that's the right word . . . Disclaimer: The boyz belong to Paramount, I and suspect TPTB would be horrified if they knew what I was doing to them! Mea culpa. Warning: m/m. Explicit, sort of. Tom's POV. Feedback: Please! All constructive comments will be seriously considered. Grammar nits welcome. --- He stands above me. Naked. Glorious. His beauty is imposing, both physically and spiritually. Here, on my knees, in front of him, I'm finally at peace. Here is where I belong. I take him within my mouth and he groans. His knees are trembling and I'm trembling too, grateful that he will let me please him in this manner. With him I can take something that was once abusive and degrading, and make it sacred. I don't offer more, and he doesn't ask. Our time is short tonight. We both have other appointments to keep. He will be late for his, and yet when I rang at his door he let me in without a word, stripping silently and calmly, watching me do the same. He never asks why I want this. I don't know how to tell him that it has nothing to do with want, and everything to do with need. I lick his erection and he moans, thrusting his hips forward. I open up eagerly and swallow as much of him as I can. It's a trick I was forced to learn once. It took me a long time -- weeks of gagging and choking, of coming close to suffocating. It's easy, now. Every time I do it for him is one more good time to remember. Soon the good times will outnumber the bad times, and then, perhaps, the demons will leave me alone. Maybe then, I won't need to come back here to him any more. He's shaking. The sweat is glistening on his forehead, outlining the tattoo emblazoned there. His hands, large and dark, grip my shoulders, giving him balance. I'm grateful, for with the burden of his stability taken from me, one of my hands is freed. I stroke myself even as I suck him. He'll be mad. So be it. He doesn't yet understand that nothing else he could do for me would be as arousing as his letting me do this for him. Eyes open, I gaze at his face. He's lost in it, eyes closed, teeth clenched. He's close to coming. I want to come with him. I use my tongue, my lips, my throat. He whispers my name and I almost orgasm right then. But I don't. It's hard. I'm hard. My cock feels warm and heavy in my hand. It's pulsing, throbbing, eager to release the warm juices within. Discipline and practice allow me to maintain control. I will not come until he does. I slow down my strokes even as I speed up the motions of my mouth. He sways above me and his fingers suddenly dig into my shoulders. Not hard enough to bruise. He's considerate, even at the height of pleasure. His cock jerks in my mouth and suddenly I am swallowing, swallowing, swallowing. At the same instant as he is crying out, I bring myself to oblivion. My screams are muffled by his cock and his cum. He falls to his knees next to me, still trembling. His forehead, slick with sweat, rests against my own. We pant together for a few minutes, then his fingers brush against my now soft penis and he stares into my eyes sadly. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "You promised," he says, resigned. "I know. I couldn't help myself. You looked so beautiful. . ." "I wish you'd wait." "I know. I'll try. Next time, I promise, I'll try harder." "I won't hurt you." "I know." "What are you so afraid of?" I don't answer that. I get up and get a towel, wiping off the sweat and semen, carefully cleaning the carpet. I dress in silence. I have just enough time to go back to my quarters and shower. If I don't, B'Elanna will smell the sex on me, and I couldn't bear to hurt her like that. She loves me, and I . . . if I were still capable of love, I'd love her, too. He watches me get ready to leave. He doesn't ask when I'll be back. He doesn't have to. When the demons reappear, when even burying myself in B'Elanna's loving warmth won't make them go away, I'll come back to the one man in the universe with the power to heal me. The one man in the universe with the power to help me heal myself. My savior. My salvation. My Chakotay. --- The End