AUTHOR: Bridget Cochran
TITLE: Twisting in the Wind © 1998
RATING: Very R
Summary: Chakotay makes a command decision that could have gotten Tom killed. Tom is not pleased.
Disclaimer: I own the ideas, Paramount owns the rest. Archive at will.
This story springs from the Story Challenge issued by Joanne Collins based on the profic book Marooned, by Christie Golden: what if Tom is held hostage by bad guys and Chakotay leaves him hanging out to dry in their custody? How would that effect their relationship. So, that's how it started. Then it evolved/devolved into one of Mona's challenges: what if Tom and Chakotay used to be lovers, but hadn't taken back up together in the DQ. These challenges were CPSG list challenges.
This story is rated NC-17 for adult situations in a male/male relationship. If such a pairing doesn't appeal to you, stop reading NOW.
Weary fingers tabbed the keys to let him into his cabin. In the Delta Quadrant, shitty days piled on top of shitty days sometimes.
Today's ordeal, with three eyed Su'un mah Beadeah merchants, so pernicious they made the Ferengi look lame, was just such a case. When Kathryn, B'Elanna and Tom had gone to trade for supplies, they seized the shuttlecraft. Tom had been taken hostage protecting the others. The Captain and B'Elanna had lain low on the planet's surface, not communicating due to the surveillance the aliens had them under. The rescue of the three had been harrowing. Chakotay was sorry he didn't drink.
In his weariness, he did not miss the fact that he had a visitor in his quarters. It was Paris on the couch, illuminated by 5% lighting. Chakotay didn't let his sigh escape, as he pulled off his boots and kicked them by the door, and began to remove his uniform. Tom would talk when he was ready, and, frankly, he could wait forever to hear what Tom had to say.
He knew none of it was going to be good.
Tom sat on the sofa--arms folded across his chest, shoulders hunched, defensive and smoldering. He was still in his uniform so Chakotay's was his first stop after Sick Bay.
Shit, this wasn't going to be good. He stripped off his uniform jacket and made a choice. He slouched onto the sofa next to Tom.
This was dangerous. Chakotay had never been close to Tom since they'd been out here in the great beyond. Not like they had been in the Maquis days. Those days were tainted and gone. They worked together now because they had to. But sometimes the Commander wished they could get over their problems.
But what little respect Tom had built for him was gone after today. So, Chakotay might as well face the music.
"I could kill you," Tom hissed.
Chakotay massaged his forehead. "I know."
"You bluffed with my life."
God, the whole incident had been a living hell. The Su'un mah Beadeah. If Chakotay never heard the name of that species again, it would be alright. But something told him he would be paying the price for their havoc for a long time. "I had to take that chance, Tom. They were asking me to turn over Voyager."
Tom was quiet, too quiet.
He continued, "Harry and Tuvok were working on the transporter throughout the negotiation."
Tom moved away from Chakotay, but stayed on the couch. Chakotay could barely make out the features of the young man. Maybe he was a little paler than usual, his hair was wild, his eyes were wide. Wide and so, so abject.
Cringing inside, Chakotay began, "Tom--"
But Tom put his hand up, "Save it."
The wide eyes narrowed to ugly slits. "You told them I didn't matter, just to kill me."
He had. "It was part of the bluff."
Tom's face went slack. Blank and slack as emotion seemed to drain from him. "They broke six ribs, my jaw and both my legs."
Chakotay rubbed his forehead harder. He had heard the med report, but stayed away from Sick Bay. Too many people would be hovering. Tom didn't need the added complication of Chakotay in the room; he needed to concentrate on healing.
Telling them to kill Tom had been incredibly difficult for the first officer. The look of horror on Tom's bruised face, the complete surprise on the Su'un leader. The look of menace that replaced the surprise in the bastard's three eyes, filled Chakotay with dread. If Harry hadn't said, "Got him" at the moment he did, the Commander would have vomited where he stood.
Cover from Voyager enabled the Captain and B'Elanna to return with the recaptured shuttlecraft almost immediately, letting Chakotay to relax, breathe and ponder the horror of the ten hour ordeal.
Three hours after that, he sat with Tom staring daggers at him, certain that the young man wished he had a real dagger.
"Why are you here, Tom?"
"You're the ship's counselor." The edge to his voice was razor sharp.
"Wish we had a ship's referee."
Tom's sense of humor was gone; Chakotay wished he could take the remark back. "Look, Tom," he tried again, "Maybe there's someone else you should talk to about this."
Even as he said it, he knew that Tom and B'Elanna were running down a rocky road.
"B'Elanna?" he asked anyway.
Tom blew air through his nostrils. "She's not part of the equation."
A dark brow arched.
"You just don't get it, do you?" Tom sighed.
The brow lowered.
"You're the only thing that mattered to me, ever."
That was a gut punch. "What do you want me to do?"
"Give me your ass."
All breathing stopped as the two men looked at each other.
"You never struck me as stupid, Chakotay."
Not stupid, just dense. Making a great show of a deep breath, Chakotay stood. "I have lubricant in the bathroom." He stood. If that's what Tom wanted from him, that's what he'd get.
Tom wasn't stupid either. Let the punishment fit the crime.
When Chakotay emerged from the bathroom, tube in hand, Tom was taking off his clothes. The pilot crawled across the bed with his hand out for a squirt. Chakotay finished disrobing as Tom began to stroke his semi-erect penis to the necessary rigidity.
Picking up the tube, he offered it to Tom. The younger man screwed up his face. "Lubricate yourself, I'm not making it any easier on you."
The older man let his shoulders drop. That's the way it was going to be. Retribution. The tube hit the nightstand and he crawled onto the bed, turning to offer himself to Tom.
There he was head resting on an arm, butt high in the air, exposed, ready for anything Tom had in mind: the sacrifice on the altar of guilt.
A warm hand skimmed across warm skin as Tom moved across the waiting cheeks, letting a thumb skim across the portal waiting to be breached. Chakotay shivered at the touch.
In the few hot and fast times Chakotay and Tom had been together, years ago, two life times ago, Tom had never taken Chakotay, it had always been the other way around. Chakotay didn't enjoy anal penetration. Tom had always known that, and it had been okay. Tom liked sex any way, any time, nearly any combination; the bottom had never bothered him. Tom inserted a dry finger.
So, Chakotay was giving him his ass. Tom never expected it, he thought as he twisted his finger ungently. Another finger was forced in and he hooked them both around looking for the tender little nub of prostate. There it was, Chakotay jerked forward, away from the probing fingers. Tom settled a palm on the small of his back to keep him still, moving his prick into contact with the hard flat ass. He rubbed it on the brown skin, savoring an opportunity he'd never had before, to go where he'd never been before. He listened to the pained grunts as he removed his fingers.
Son-of-a-bitch sold him down the river. The alien bastard was going to beat him to death with a club. Tom brought his prick into contact with the rim of the anus.
Tom stood ready to press home. None of his ordeal was Chakotay's fault, not really. Tom had been on a mission. A wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time mission, but shit happens.
Tom looked down at the beautiful body in front of him, open, willing to accept everything Tom forced on him. Offering himself as a noble sacrifice. Noble son-of-a-bitch.
He couldn't do it. "Christ," he swore and punched one of the offered cheeks hard, before moving away to roll on his back. "I can't fuck you when I'm mad." His erection was softening already.
Chakotay lowered himself to his stomach turning to watch Tom for a few very long minutes. "I had to do it, Tom," he said at last.
"I know," Tom said to the ceiling. "but I don't have to like it."
"No, you don't."
Tom looked at Chakotay, but had to look away. The whole day was too damn much, and he was very close to losing it. He'd cheated death again. He'd live to fight another day, but now he laughed the laugh of ill humor. "Who'd have guessed I'd be captured by aliens, beaten to a pulp, then end up here, naked." Tom rolled to the get off the bed only to be stopped by a firm hand on his arm.
Tom froze with his back to Chakotay. "Don't do it, Chakotay. I've had too many people fucking with me today." Tom tried to keep his voice even, tried to keep from shaking under the strong, blunt fingers that stopped his movement from the bed.
But the fingers stayed where they were, burning Tom, probably bruising his flesh. Shit, it had been so damn long since he'd felt their power, he tried to jerk his arm away. It would be bruised all right, he thought as he was wrenched onto his back. He was up like a shot, but Chakotay hauled him back to bounce on the bed.
"Damn it, Chakotay, I'm not in the mood for bed games."
"Neither, am I, **Tom**." Chakotay's voice lost its even tone. "You came to me."
"Yah." Like he needed to be reminded. He wrenched his arm again, but got no where. "I'd like to leave."
"No. I'm not letting you go."
Tom gave the Commander a lethal look. "You think you can stop me, if I want to go?"
A ghosting of a smile flitted across Chakotay's face, as his fingers released his grip, "No, I can't. But you don't really want to leave, do you?"
The fucker was calling another bluff. A huffing sigh was dragged from deep within Tom. The grip had left his arm, but now he felt an internal clutch to his chest. God, he was screwed up. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't want to leave."
Now that he'd said it out loud, he could admit it to himself. Even though Chakotay said the words, expressed his regret, Tom wasn't sure Chakotay knew what it was like to be consigned to Hell by the great angry warrior, the one who meant everything to Tom.
How could he know? When had he told him? Back in the Maquis days? The miserable days when they started out in the Delta Quadrant? No. Never. He'd kept the shield up and his mouth shut in those days. He still did to a great extent. Tom felt like such an asshole then, like damaged goods with no where to go.
Christ. It wasn't like he had anywhere to go now. B'Elanna was no God damned comfort. She was a prickly pain in the ass that always picked at him to be smarter, faster, stronger, on top. He would never be able to please her.
But why bother with Chakotay either? The man didn't love him, not like he needed to be loved, but he didn't hate him either. And they did have a past--a rocky past, but, a past.
How come the only two people on the ship who he'd been intimate with didn't like him or want him? Why was that?
Beating himself up wasn't getting him anywhere, just depressed. So, why didn't he just get up and go? Why, indeed. He felt Chakotay leave the bed. He heard water running, tooth brushing sounds; then a drawer opened before the bed dipped again.
Warm moisture hit his groin and he came up swinging, but he was batted back down. "You can't go to sleep with that gunk all over your dick," Chakotay said as he mopped to grease from his groin. Tom went for and wrested the cloth from his superior officer's hand to finish the job himself. Chakotay threw a pair of shorts at him. Tom frowned at them laying on his thigh.
"Thought you might want something to wear," Chakotay said as he pulled a pair up over his butt.
Tom still frowned as he looked for somewhere to put the wash cloth. He finally tossed it in the direction of the refresher. He picked up the shorts. They were old and worn. "What the hell," he muttered and eased into them while Chakotay pulled the covers down, forcing Tom to skitter over them.
"Why are you doing this?" Tom didn't look at Chakotay, choosing to pull his socks off instead.
Chakotay shrugged, not answering immediately. Tom could tell he was weighing what he had to say. "You need it."
Tom was incredulous. "You thought about it that long to say 'I need it'?"
Chakotay shrugged. "You do."
Tom lay back on the bed wondering at the insanity of staying. It was really insane: him here in a place he never thought he'd be again. In bed with Chakotay.
In bed with Chakotay. The penis that was dead a minute ago was twitching again. He pulled the blanket up to his chin. Son-of-a-bitch. Chakotay called for lights out.
He heard a dry chuckle from Chakotay's side of the bed. "Something funny?"
"Just thinking about what you said about what the odds were this morning that you'd be here tonight."
Tom stared at him in the darkness. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said, finally, as he turned away from the Commander.
He heard the sigh. "If you would have told me at the morning briefing that you'd be captured by aliens, that I'd sell you down the river to those aliens, and end up sleeping with you when it's all said and done, I would have laughed in your face."
"Don't get used to it." **Tom** didn't want to get used to it.
"If you say so."
Tom closed his eyes in frustration. He was erect--raging, really--for the man he was sharing a bed with. A man he wanted to share so much more than a bed with. Shit, shit, shit.
And now Chakotay was talking like there was the possibility of some kind of something.
Tom stiffened when he felt the man's whole body meet his back. "Chakotay--"
"Forget it, Tom, I'm not going anywhere."
"Shit." The younger man sighed and leaned back into the broad, hard chest as implacable arms circled his waist. Just go with it, he thought, just try to keep your mouth shut, so you don't ruin it.
"We'll talk in the morning," Chakotay's murmur vibrated through him.
"If I'm here in the morning."
"Please be here in the morning."
Tom closed him eyes, they stung. "Let me think about it."
The soft breath of a soft laugh warmed Tom's neck and every hair on his body stood on end. His shiver brought the tightening of Chakotay's arm around him.
He'd be there in the morning.