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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
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1,201
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1/1
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Mudslide

Summary:

An Inspiration hit me

Work Text:

Chakotay walked steadily, trying to ignore the incessant chatter from
his companion. The sun was hot, the humidity high and the bugs
impossible. The surroundings reminded him of the equitorial rainforest he had
visited with his father so many years before. Even so he would have
managed to enjoy himself if he had been by himself. Not encumbered with
a blonde magpie named Tom Paris. Would the man ever stop yapping?

"So, uh, Commander, do you thnk we'll -- ugh; " he swatted a bug out
his eyes; "really find any dilithium up here? I mean, just because those
villagers said something about some big crystalline stones in a cave up
on this mountain doesn't mean we'll find anything, does it?"

Paris was, simply put, miserable. He didn't like the heat, the
humidity or the bugs. He didn't see any of it bothering The Stone Face,
though, and decided to not mention that. Being stuck under these conditions
with Chakotay only made it all worse, somehow. There was just
something about the man which caused his brain to short-circuit. Therefore he
found himself chattering away like he was some mindless idiot. God, he
hated this.

"Lieutenant, we will find what we find when we find it."

Great. Just great. Paris paused to look out over the valley to their
left. Heavy clouds were moving in and he knew, +knew+, they carried
rain. And with his luck the rain would add to the humidity instead of
relieve it.

"Uh, Sir, maybe we should set up some sort of shelter against the
rain?"

Chakotay looked up and shrugged.

"A little water never hurt anyone, Lieutenant."

Paris swore under his breath and continued to follow. Sure enough,
about twenty minutes later a down-pour of biblical proportion hit them.
He couldn't see through the heavy drops pelting his face and turned his
back to it. The thin, loose fabric of their 'native' clothing did
nothing to protect them against the deluge and soon both were soaked to the
skin.

"A little water, Commander?"

He didn't keep the peevishness out of his voice and Chakotay scowled at
him. So it was a heavy rainfall. So he had forgotten how heavy a
tropical rainfall could be. He did remember that they didn't last long and
told the other man as much. The rain eased up after a few minutes, not
stopping, but it did become possible to continue walking. So they did.

"Uh, Commander? What's that noise?"

Chakotay snorted to himself. As if Paris could hear anything over the
sound of his own voice. He did pause for a moment on the side of the
track to listen. There +was+ a noise, a sort of groaning roar . . . .

Paris looked back to where Chakotay had been standing when he heard the
loud yelp. Only the Commander wasn't there. He jumped to the spot and
stared around. Where . . . ?

Suddenly the ground gave way under his feet and he felt himself sliding
head-first down a hillside, bouncing and leaping with the rush of
watery mud. With one last flight in the air he landed face down in a muddy,
watery pool and stopped.

Face down. In Chakotay's crotch. Between his open thighs. In his . .
. wet and muddy and . . . warm . . . crotch. Interesting. He raised
his head to look up at his equally muddy Commander and grinned at the
stunned expression on Chakotay's face.

"Wow! What a ride!" He let out a whoop and shook his head to clear the
dripping mud. Chakotay just stared at him.

Oh mother-of-mercy-and-every-other-god-in-the-universe Tom Paris just
had his face in my crotch and I liked it. +He+ liked it. Well, he
liked the ride down the hill. He didn't seem to mind the crotch part. He
shook himself mentally to get rid of all the images that began to pop
into his head and frowned at Paris.

"Lieutenant, do you think you could manage to stand up?"

Paris nodded earnestly, hiding his grin. Instead of simply getting to
his feet as he was, he twisted about and, with his back to Chakotay for
strategic reasons, tried to stand up. And slipped and fell back down,
somehow planting his ass onto . . . Chakotay's crotch. Who groaned.

If Paris' face there wasn't enough, having his firm, wet and slippery
backside squirming around on it was . . . better. A phrase from an old
novel came to mind -- 'positively pneumatic'.

"Paris! Get off me!"

"I'm trying!"

I'll get you off . . . . Paris tried not to snicker. Damn, the
Commander was almost as good a ride as the one he had down-hill, so far. He
leaned forward and began to straighten up again. It was pure
coincidence that he rose only inches in front of Chakotay's nose, giving him a
very good close-up view of the mud-drenched portion of anatomy that had
sitting on him just a moment earlier. Chakotay felt his eyes grow wide
at the sight of it: the slippery wet mud had soaked the thin fabric,
causing it to mold to Paris, lovingly revealing every square centimeter
of one of the galaxy's truely finest works of nature. He groaned
again. Began to think of the Federation Charter, Kazons, cold showers.
Didn't work and oh-no he's up and turning he'll see . . . . Tuvok!
Neelix's cooking! Neelix! That did it.

Paris turned and pulled at the damp fabric clinging to him.

"Ugh. This is disgusting." He looked at Chakotay, whose expression
was changing from desparate to pissed. Hmm. He was also still sitting
almost waist deep in the mud. Double hmm.

"Um. Commander, you want a hand up?"

He held a hand out and Chakotay grasped it, allowing Paris to leverage
him up. Once standing he looked down and silently agreed. Disgusting.
He looked at Paris who had closed his eyes and turned his face up to
the rain in an effort to wash the mud away. Seeing him like that made up
Chakotay's mind for him. This was supposed to be a foraging mission to
find dilithium, not a survival training exercise. He dug his badge out
of the bag that by some miracle survived the trip down the slide.

"Voyager, two to beam up. Wait! Set the filters to remove mud."
Paris brought his face back down to Chakotay's and grinned at him. His
voice was split as the transporter took them.

"Good idea, sir."

Now on a transporter pad, mud-free and relatively dry, the two men
stepped down and headed for the door. Chakotay paused to speak to the
transporter operator and Paris continued, intent on a sonic shower to get
rid of the things that weren't mud and still attached to his body. Just
before he went through the doorway Chakotay called him, causing him to
turn.

"Sir?"

He was vaguely shocked to see that Chakotay wasn't looking at his face
when he spoke. He was looking . . . further down.

"Report to me in thirty minutes for a debriefing."

Paris forcibly kept the smirk away. De . . . briefing?

"Yessir."