Coeur Fort (VOY, C/P, NC-17)
by Debra Fran Baker-

The third story in the "Slow Dances Universe." Yes, this is a slash story, but it is, again, not romantic and nice. This is Chakotay and Paris and anger.

I truly want to hear what people think, good and bad.

This story may be archived.

DISCLAIMER: Paramount‘s, not mine.

Coeur Fort by Debra Fran Baker

If Tom Paris had had a personal cloaking device at that moment, he would have turned it on. Instead, all he could do was try to fade against the pastel corridor wall in his black uniform. Chances are they were too angry to notice him anyway.

"I‘m not going to wait for you any longer, Captain." Paris could hear Chakotay‘s voice from the surprisingly open door. "I didn‘t know you were waiting, Commander. I seem to recall a little blonde borg scientist not so long ago." "What do you expect? I‘m human, unlike you. I don‘t want to be celibate for the next seventy years."

"I‘m human, Chakotay." The Captain‘s voice was gentler now. "I don‘t want to be celibate, either. I have someone waiting for me at home, someone I love dearly."


"I don‘t accept that I have no choices, Chakotay. I don‘t accept that just because you are my first officer and we‘re both lonely and you are so...I have to sleep with you."

"You are the most stubborn woman I‘ve ever met."

"If I weren‘t stubborn, Voyager wouldn‘t exist."

"But we can‘t exist."

"Not now. It‘s not the right time now."

"It will never be the right time."

"Maybe not."

"And you expect me to wait anyway."

"You can do what you like."

"And whom I like?"

"It‘s your choice, Commander. I won‘t stand in your way if you find someone."

"You don‘t think I can?"

"Don‘t be ridiculous, Chakotay."

"I‘ll find someone. Someone who won‘t string me along."

"You do that. It will be a relief."

"Good-bye, Kathryn." Chakotay stormed out of the Captain‘s quarters.

Tom wished again for a personal cloaking device. Too late.

"What are you doing here, Paris?" Chakotay‘s eyes flashed at him.

"Nothing, sir. I was just going to my quarters."

"You were listening."

Oh, no. "Only for a moment, Commander. It was hard to miss." For a moment, Chakotay grinned. "I guess it was." But the anger returned.

"It was a private conversation."

"Understood, sir." Why was Chakotay looking at him that way? Paris felt something crawl up his spine. He wasn‘t sure if it was fear or...what. "Commander?"

"Yes, Tom?"

"Can I go now? Tonight‘s Harry and B‘Elanna‘s engagement."

Chakotay softened. "That must be difficult for you."


"To have your two ex-lovers marrying each other." Damn. He‘d thought he‘d hid it better than that.

"They‘re my best friends. I‘m happy that they‘re happy." Maybe if he said it enough, it would be true. It was true - at least about B‘Elanna. That was a mistake from the beginning. Chakotay smiled. "Of course, Tom. You look exactly like a man whose best friends are getting married."

"Commander, I have to change for the party. May I go?" "Dismissed, Lieutenant." Paris rushed down the corridor with all the dignity he could muster. He didn‘t notice the two dark eyes following him. He didn‘t know the plans running through the first officer‘s mind.

The party was in full swing when Paris arrived, suitably dressed in the soft embroidered tunic and tights he‘d picked up on some planet someplace. Kim and Torres were surrounded by a pile of gifts. Paris added his own - a specially designed "honeymoon" program he‘d written for the holodeck. The happy couple were engrossed in each other, completely oblivious to the commotion around them. Paris did walk close enough to hear their whispered conversation. "So, if we use the coupler modification here..."

"We can make the whole process more efficient." Paris snorted. They‘d each been more passionate with him than with each other, if that was a sample of private conversation. So why weren‘t they with him? Wasn‘t he good enough for the perfect little ensign. Oh, yes. Kim wasn‘t so perfect, was he? He was good at keeping secrets from everyone.

And why was Chakotay looking at him that way? There the first officer was, standing across the resort, leaning on a column. He was wearing an outfit Paris had never seen before - tight, golden velvet that outlined his muscles and emphasized his dark skin. Too bad it couldn‘t be leather...the commander would look luscious in leather, but he wouldn‘t wear it. Luscious? Where did that come from? It wasn‘t his imagination. Chakotay was watching him move. Paris could feel the dark eyes track him across the holodeck. He could also see the captain doing the same thing on her side. She looked beautiful, too. Beautiful and untouchable, like a force-field sculpture. This was the last thing he needed.

Except...Janeway was smiling. He caught her eye as she went to get a new drink and she nodded. He just received permission to ... do something with Chakotay.

This was too much. He decided to ignore the whole gothic act and focus on his friends. They there were, too, happily discussing engineering problems between kisses. They had no problem kissing in public. Harry had no problems kissing in public - they‘d necked everywhere those short weeks together. For some reason he still couldn‘t figure out, he and B‘Elanna thought they should sneak around instead. It wasn‘t as if it were a secret. Maybe she was ashamed of him? Harry had certainly dropped him soon enough. Kim and his little non-lies. Did he non-lie to her, too?

There was Chakotay walking towards him. That velvet left nothing to the imagination. He was beautiful and dangerous, like a stalking wolf. Everyone was staring at Chakotay, including the captain. Paris watched the commander shoot Janeway a look, and then look back at him. Was he trying to make the captain jealous? Chakotay‘s eyes flashed with anger.

Well, Paris was angry, too. So, they both perferred each other to him? Well, he could get the prize of the crew in his bed tonight. Paris smoothed his hair, licked his lips and gave Chakotay a predatory grin. If Chakotay was a wolf tonight, he‘d be a cat. Blue eyes caught brown eyes and they moved around each other like two predators after the same kill, or two men preparing to do battle. They spiraled together, caught by the force of madness. When they were close enough, Chakotay caught a willing Paris in his arms and ground their lips together in a searing kiss. Paris responded with tongue and teeth.

They broke apart. "You want what I want." Chakotay spoke in a rough whisper.



"Now." Paris knew he could not wait to have Chakotay in his arms. Another harsh kiss, and they left the room, taking the eyes of the party with them.

They began ripping each other‘s clothing off in the lift. By the time they got to Chakotay‘s quarters, Paris‘ tunic hung in shreds from his neck and wrists, and Chakotay‘s velvet shirt was wadded up someplace. More fuel for the gossips.

As soon as they entered the cabin, Paris pounced. Within minutes, both men were naked and rolling on the deck. Chakotay‘s lips were hard and his hands were rough as he kissed and stroked every inch of the younger man. Paris spared one thought of pain for the inevitable bruises. Damn! Those would hurt the next morning. And then he responded in kind, kneading the strong muscles with his talented pilot‘s fingers, exploring all of the commander‘s mouth with his tongue, scraping the broad back with his fingernails. Sex with B‘Elanna had been violent, but this was something different. Both men were painfully hard. Paris could feel Chakotay‘s penis as it tried to pierce his abdomen. He reached down to touch it, but Chakotay forced his hand away.

"Not now. Soon. I want you in my bed, Paris. And I will take you there." Paris shivered. No, this was nothing like B‘Elanna, and as far from Harry as he could imagine. So, why couldn‘t he breathe? The commander began to tease Paris‘ nipples. Paris couldn‘t help it - he gasped with pleasure and pain.

"You like that, Lieutenant? Good." He continued playing with them. Paris caught his breath and reached for Chakotay‘s chest, but had to stop when the commander began to suck, hard. It was eternity before he stopped.

Chakotay pulled out of Paris‘ arms and struggled to his feet.

Then he pulled Paris erect, and devoured him with his eyes.

"So beautiful. And mine tonight. Right?"

"Tonight." No promises. Paris had been burned on promises. At that thought, he dragged Chakotay to the bed. "Lie down, Paris. On your stomach." Paris shivered again.

Chakotay would not hurt him. No matter how angry.

"You do want this, don‘t you, Paris?"

"Yes, Commander. I do." With that, Paris did as instructed. He felt Chakotay kneel beside him on the bed.

"Spread your legs, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

The next thing Paris felt was Chakotay‘s tongue between his cheeks, just teasing his anus. Paris could only moan. He tried to move on the bed, tried to get some friction against his aching penis, but Chakotay held him too tightly. Paris felt himself dwindling down to his anus and his penis in need and frustration. Then it stopped. Paris, who was resting on the right side of his face, could see Chakotay reach under the bed for something. It was a tube of lubricant. He‘d prepared for this night. He‘d known he‘d have Paris right here, and he‘d wanted it. Had Paris also known? Chakotay began to probe Paris‘ anus. His fingers were cold and slippery from the gel. They forced their way in roughly. Paris moaned again.

"Hurts?" That harsh whisper again.

"Not quite."

"Good." Two fingers, three fingers, stretching him almost painfully. Paris forced himself to breathe even as Chakotay brushed his prostate. At this moment, he wanted Chakotay inside of him more than he wanted anything else. He wanted to erase all memory of those two. Just then, he felt Chakotay‘s fingers withdraw. He took a deep breath, knowing what was next. The commander raised him to his knees. And there it was, cold and wet and dripping, at his anus. He‘d tightened a little, so Chakotay had to press at him, but soon he pushed his way in, in one swift stroke that left Paris shaking. Sweat began pouring off his body.

Chakokay reached around him - one hand supporting, one hand grasping Paris‘ weeping penis. He began to move his body, and Paris answered him thrust for thrust, while the skillful fingers pulled at his organ. The pressure began to build, finally. Soon, too soon, Paris came, shooting hot sperm over Chakotay‘s fingers. He gasped more in relief than in pleasure. Something was missing. Then, kicked by Paris‘ contractions, Chakotay exploded. And he, cried out a name.


And then he collapsed onto Paris‘ back, crushing them to the bed. Paris felt his lover (or was he his lover? Somehow, it didn‘t feel like they just made love. It wasn‘t rape, but it wasn‘t love, either.) slip out, so he crawled from underneath and settled next to Chakotay.

He touched Chakotay‘s back and felt him shaking.


Chakotay turned to him. There were tears flowing down his face. "I‘m a fool. I thought I could bring you to my bed and make her jealous. Instead I humiliate you...hurt you." He touched Paris‘ bruised lips. "I never want to hurt you, Tom. You‘re so beautiful. I‘m sorry."

"I‘m sorry, Chakotay. God. I was using you, too. Seeing those two so happy, and know I had two chances and failed at both, it hurt. I was hoping I could forget." Paris gathered Chakotay in his arms and stroked his dark hair.

"Tom...we‘ll do this right next time. Next time, we‘ll make love."

"Next time."

"If there is a next time."

*There will be. And I will lie in your strong arms and feel your heart next to me. Coeur fort.*

copyright 1997 Debra Fran Baker and NightRoads Associates


One sharp peppercorn is better than a basketful of melons.
Tractate Megillah 7A
Debra Fran Baker