The BLTS Archive- My Chakotay #4: As It Will by MaisieRita (MaisieRita@aol.com) --- copyright 1998 Disclaimer: It's too late at night to come up with something clever. Trust me, I'm just borrowing everyone from Paramount. Warning: m/m sex. m/f sex. Weird pyschological stuff. Read no further if any or all of this offends you. Feedback: Please! All constructive comments will be seriously considered. Grammar nits welcome. --- God, I've waited too long this time. Almost a month, and I was already on edge a week ago. But there was that attack, and between the double shifts in Sickbay and the Captain getting injured and Chakotay taking the Bridge . . . the only time to see him would have been the middle of the night. The worst of it is, if I'd gone to see him I know he would have helped me, no matter how exhausted he was. I wasn't that desperate though. Not last week. This week, I *was* that desperate. I'd have gone to him, if not for B'Elanna. Three nights ago after the nightmare, I tried to get out of bed, but she woke up when I moved. We made love -- she thinks it helps -- and I tired myself out enough that I was able to fall back asleep. For one night. The dreams were back last night, and god, I wanted so badly to go to him, but B'Elanna was wrapped around me and I couldn't move without waking her. So I lay there, shaking and sweating until the alarm went off, knowing that if I didn't get to see him, the demons would come back tonight, stronger than before. They did. I'm pretty sure I was screaming, because my throat is raw. B'Elanna's awake. I *must* have been screaming. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine. Just a bad dream." She looks at me seriously. "You're still shaking." "I'll be fine. I just need to calm down." That was a mistake. She's grinning at me in that way she has. Two weeks ago, that smile would have set my pulse racing and my blood pounding in my ears. Now, I'm barely able to muster up a grin to flash back at her. She doesn't notice that it's fake. How can she? I don't think she's ever seen me really smile. I don't think anyone on this ship has, except maybe him. He might have seen me smile, maybe once, when I wasn't careful. Maybe that first time he called out my name as he came. . . She's on me, now, and I'm not courageous enough to tell her that this isn't what I need, that's it's exactly what I don't need. She's panting, sweating as she rides me, careful not to touch me in those places I can't tolerate. She tries so hard to make it good for me, and she never hurts me, even when I ask her to. Especially not when I ask her to. I flip her over because I know she wants it this way, wants the fiction that I'm in control, wants the fiction that it's me taking her. So I thrust into her and even as my body is overwhelmed by her hot moist depths, I try to convince myself that this is enough. And when it's over, and she's crying out, and I'm crying out, it *is* almost enough. Almost. It's nearly perfect, except that as she's falling asleep she whispers, "I love you, Tom." I'm not strong enough to tell her the truth, so I hug her tight and whisper that I love her also. Tomorrow, I'll go to him. ---- He's so tense. I can see it in his shoulders as he sits at the conn. It's been a month now. A month since he last came to me, a month since I last came for him. He's never lasted a month before. I didn't think he could stand it. I'm not so sure he can. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. He's hurting. I don't know how B'Elanna doesn't see it. No, that's not fair. She does see it. She watches him in the mess hall, in the morning briefings, at Sandrine's. She hasn't left him alone for days, afraid, I think, that he'll retreat inside himself again. So he's never alone, not during the day, not at night. She's been in his quarters every night since the attack. I know; I've checked. I think she wants to help him. I know she wants to be the one he turns to when things are bad. I suppose he's trying to let her do that for him, but it's killing him. He's not eating, and if the circles under his eyes are any indication, he's not sleeping, either. He needs me. I know he does. I'm almost toying with the idea of putting B'Elanna on night shift, just so Tom will be able to come to me tonight . . . but I've never taken matters into my own hands like that before, and somehow I don't think I should start now. This relationship we have . . . if that's the right word . . . has never been about what I want, or even about what I think Tom wants. It's about what Tom needs, and I can't dictate that. Harry's walking over down to the front of the Bridge. It's almost dinner time. He's worried too. He wants to make sure Tom's eating. A good friend. Never, so far as I know, a lover, which is odd, because I think Harry would have liked to be. Speculation on my part, of course. Harry's never dated any males on the ship, but he used to look at Tom in this certain way . . . I think Harry's basically straight but I'm sure he would have made an exception for Tom. He places his hand on Tom's shoulder. Am I the only one who notices the way Tom jumps? I don't think he heard Harry coming. I don't think he realizes what time it is. He's in bad shape. If it were any worse, I'd pull him off duty. I won't have to. He'll come to me tonight, and I'll help him. --- It's time. I can't wait any longer. God, I tried all night to come up with a way to get B'Elanna to leave me alone for a while -- just a little while -- but she knows something's wrong and she won't let me be by myself for a minute. And she wonders why I run to the holodeck! Sometimes, the constant attention is suffocating. It's not her fault; I'm just not good at relationships. I don't handle them well. I'm trying so hard not to screw this one up, which is why I'm here in bed with her when I need so desperately to be on my knees in front of him . . . Just the thought of it eases the ache that's with me all the time now, but it's only temporary. I can't pretend I'm okay, and I can't imagine I'm with him to make it right. I need to be there. I need to smell him, touch him, taste him. I need to hear him moan, I need to see him tremble, I need to feel him explode in my mouth. God, I'm shaking. "Tom?" Shit. "Yeah?" "Are you all right?" No. "Yes." She twists around and I'm thankful for the darkness so she can't see my face. "You're shaking. Are you cold?" "A little bit." Damn it. I need to get out of here. I need to go to him, god, I *have* to. The demons are strong now, waiting for me to let my guard down, and if they come for me on the Bridge, I don't know what will happen. I can't risk it. I have to deal with them tonight. "B'Elanna?" "Yes?" For a second I think I'm going to tell her the truth, but of course, I don't. Instead, I roll over on top of her and kiss her fiercely, roughly. She growls happily beneath me and wraps her legs around mine. I force myself to relax and concentrate. This will work. It has in the past. I take her hard, no excuses. I bite her . . . she moans and asks for more. I pin her to the bed and she arches up beneath me, forcing herself onto my cock. I'm so sweaty I can barely see for the moisture in my eyes, and B'Elanna's body is equally slick beneath mine. She's writhing, moaning, gasping. She fights against my hold on her wrists, not seriously. She could flip me any time she wants to. She doesn't want to. I'm pounding into her and she's rising to meet every thrust, urging me on with her body and her voice. I suckle at her breast and let my fingers play with her clit, even as I thrust harder and harder into her depths. It's too much for her. She's sobbing now, clinging to me for dear life and praying to the Klingon gods she doesn't believe in. It's hard to time it right -- my body is crying out for release too -- but I manage to wait until her gasping hits just that certain pitch . . . At the same instant as I let myself explode within her, I pinch her clit and bite down on her nipple. She screams. God, does she scream. It's glorious. She shudders and shakes and orgasms right through the roof. When it's over, she passes out. She wakes up again in a few minutes, but only for a instant. I lay there quietly while she turns over and gets comfortable, and wait until her breathing evens out again before I risk getting up. She doesn't move a muscle as I creep out of the bed, and I can relax. Whatever hypersensitivity has been keeping her awake lately, it's gone, at least for now. I guess I fucked it out of her. Anyway, I'll only be gone for a little while. She'll never notice. After an orgasm like that, I can trust her to sleep 'til morning. I throw on some clothes. Shorts and a tee-shirt. They don't match. I don't care. I won't be wearing them long, anyway. I don't even take the time to stop and wash up. I'm going to him still covered with my sweat and hers, still smelling of her sex and my come . . . but I know he won't care. I have to stop myself from running. --- I'm meditating when the door chimes. He made it. Thank god. I pull on my robe just in case there's someone else wandering the halls at 2 in the morning. When I see Tom, I can't help but flinch at his appearance. He's exhausted, and his face is tracked with sweat and a bare trace of blood on his cheek where B'Elanna must have bitten him when they made love. He was just with her. I'm not sure how he was able to sneak out, although I've got my suspicions. I won't ask. I don't really want to know. As soon as the door is shut I slip off my robe, and he's so frantic he completely forgets about his own clothing. He's down on the floor already and there's so much pain in his eyes when he looks up at me that I hurt for him. The demons -- whoever they are -- are winning tonight. "Easy," I whisper, helping him calm his shaking hands enough to pull off the shirt and shorts. "You should have come before this, Tom. You shouldn't have let it get so bad." His chest is heaving and he's fighting for control. "You had so much to do . . . " he whispers, meeting my eyes with anguished blue. "I'd have made time for you," I answer, repressing the frown that's threatening to emerge. He doesn't understand yet. Still, after all this time, he doesn't realize that I'll do anything to help him. Anything at all. If he wanted to taste me on the Bridge, if that would help him conquer the monsters he's fighting, I'd let him do it. I wouldn't even hesitate. He breathes in deeply. "I'm sorry," he says, and I can't for the life of me imagine why he's apologizing. "Next time, promise you'll come to me when you need help. Promise me you won't wait so long." I pause for only an instant before adding, "I worry about you." A shudder runs through him and somehow I think he's not happy to hear that. He controls the tremor and rubs his hands on his thighs to wipe off the sweat. Slowly, tentatively, he reaches out to touch me, looking up at me as if for permission. I grant it with the slightest of nods and then he's giving me everything he has, all at once. I stagger back a step, reaching blindly for the chair I know is behind me. God, if it's possible to forget something as wonderful as this, I've done it. It's the first time for the hundredth time, all new once again and unbelievably wonderful. I've got one hand on his shoulders and the tension that's draining out of him is pouring into me. My muscles are tightening, coiling, tensing with every firm pull of his lips on me. Oh god, help me. I'm going to shatter like glass, and there won't be enough of me to put back together . . . I cry out his name. I can't help it. Out of the corner of my eye I see his arm moving. He's stroking himself and for once, I'm happy. I can hear his breathing, shallow and uneven around the unwieldy intruder in his mouth. I know he doesn't care if he comes, but I do. Someday, I hope, we'll make this a mutual exchange of pleasure, but I've come to understand how far off that day may be. When this started, he would never touch himself in my presence, and he didn't show even the slightest spark of arousal when he loved me. It took a long time before his body started reacting positively, and longer still before he was able to encourage those reactions in himself. The first time he came as he knelt before me, I nearly cried. God! He takes me in completely, miraculously. I force myself to let go of his shoulder before I bruise it, and transfer the tension to chair I'm still clinging to. My knees are week, trembling, and my heart's pounding faster than it should be. The sweat's flowing freely now, down my forehead and pooling in the back of my knees. I'm whispering his name over and over as I move closer towards ecstasy. I don't want to come before he does but I know he'll never let himself go before me. Catch-22, no win situation, nothing to do but let it happen as it will . . . The orgasm somehow catches me unawares, slamming into me at Warp 10 and tearing a scream from my throat. Something hits my leg, warm and wet. He's coming too, even as I spill my seed down his throat. I close my eyes and let the sensation wash over me, collapsing as usual on the floor next to him. We're panting together, trying to catch our breath, when a chime rings out into the silence of the room. I'm confused until I hear the voice on the other side of the door. "Chakotay?" It's B'Elanna. Tom's eyes widen and his face goes so pale, I'm afraid he's going to faint. He scrambles backwards, searching desperately for clothing, searching for a towel, wordless, bloodless. I push him towards the bathroom and shut the door, grabbing for my robe. As I lift it up, I find his shorts and shirt beneath it, and kick them under the bed. I dim the lights and try to look sleepy as I open the door. "B'Elanna?" She walks in right past me, completely ignoring the way I try to block the door. "Is Tom here?" I fumble it. "Tom?" She stares at me, eyes narrowing suspiciously, and I realize too late that of course she knows he's here, that she checked for his location before heading to my quarters. "Is he all right?" she asks, looking around and confused when she can't find him. "Where is he?" I only manage an "ummm," before realization hits her. She looks up at me, eyes wide as she sniffs the air with a Klingon-enhanced sense of smell. I smell the sex on her. She sure as hell smells it on me. She looks around again, furious now, and heads decisively for the closed but not locked bathroom door. She pulls it open without a word, staring in incoherent disbelief at Tom who's huddled naked on the floor, wrapped in a towel that barely makes it round his hips. He stares up at her in mute distress and she stares back at him, equally silent. For a moment, I'm afraid she's going to go for his throat, but then she spins on her heel and leaves, not even casting the slightest glance in my direction. My eyes follow her as she leaves the room. Tom doesn't call out her name until the door to the corridor has closed, and when I look at him again, he hasn't moved a muscle. He's still frozen in place on the floor, hands gripping the too-small towel. I kneel next to him and whisper his name softly, wrapping my arms around him as the tears start to fall. And then I hold him close as his world falls apart. --- The End