By Morticia

(Yes another mini epic)

ST. Voyager
C/P C/Other T/7

Rating. SLASH, m/m NC-17 (at last!)

Archive: Anywhere, just let me know, please

Disclaimer: Tom, Chak et al are Paramount‘s (lucky devils) Angel is mine (yippee!)

In this story Tom and B‘Elanna never got together (Hooray!) Chakotay and Paris‘s aggression was due to (you guessed it) Unresolved Sexual Tension! Chakotay had left a male lover back in the Maquis and can‘t get over the loss. Tom is completely besotted with Chakotay and is sure that the Commander is attracted to him too but can‘t get anywhere with him.

Tom Angst. Chakotay Angst. In fact just lots of angst but quite a lot of humour and no nastiness. Am I really writing this or have aliens possessed my body?

TOM‘S pov

I know I shouldn‘t be doing this.

Chakotay made it abundantly clear when he left me at Sandrines that he had absolutely no intention of us meeting again later this evening. In case his failure to walk me home was insufficient clue, he has pointedly arranged to meet me for breakfast. I might have been born a blonde but I‘m not stupid. I don‘t need it written in two-foot high letters on the wall. I understand absolutely that he wants to take the relationship slowly. That sleepovers are not going to be allowed for at least the next millennia (or at least that‘s how it‘s beginning to feel). I‘m sorry to be crude but I‘m definitely developing a fatal case of ball ache.

He‘s left me in absolutely no doubt that his decision is final and my opinion on the matter is irrelevant. He‘s not a person who will be argued with. He‘s a goddamn rock. Completely and absolutely unmovable once he‘s made up his mind.

So that‘s why I know he‘s going to be mad with me for doing this.

Mad, angry, furious, enraged, incensed, livid . I can‘t think of enough adjectives just at the moment but I‘m sure you get the picture. I am going to be in so much shit! So why am I currently standing outside of his quarters sounding the entry chime? Has the pressure of sexual abstention finally driven me insane? Am I suicidal?
Nope, I have a cunning plan, you see.

Here‘s how it goes: The door opens, Chakotay sees me. He gets mad. I get defensive. We have a huge passionate argument. I dissolve in tears of hysterical contrition, pleading for mercy. He feels guilty for making me cry and comforts me with a hug. (Well it worked last time!) I take the opportunity to rub myself against him. He involuntarily starts to respond. I sneak in a kiss whilst he‘s distracted by my hip grinding on his groin. The kiss deepens.Getting the picture, yet?

Oh yes. It‘s a good plan.


Or maybe not.
What if I blow it? I mean it‘s not like he hasn‘t already got enough reasons to walk away from this relationship. What if I push him over the edge? Why can‘t I just wait?

Well, actually, I know the answer to that last one. You see, the way I figure it, (given the fact that I know he‘s as eager to fuck me as I am to be the fuckee since it‘s hard for a guy to hide that sort of thing especially in these bloody uniforms), the only explanation for him having suddenly turned into a character from one of Janeway‘s holonovels is that he knows that once we‘ve finally got down and done the nasty, so to speak, it will be too late for him to change his mind.

And knowing that, it puts me in a kind of dilemma doesn‘t it? Do I wait and take the chance that one of these days he‘s going to shake me by the hand and say "Well it‘s been nice, Tom but I‘ll see you around" or do I jump right in and get it over with? Shit. Maybe I could come up with some excuse for my visit just in case I need a get-out. Like, like, umm, damn! I think the navigational controls in my brain have gone off-line. Maybe one cunning plan a night is my quota. I just can‘t think of any believable reason for turning up at Chakotay‘s door after midnight other than the obvious one: to jump his bones! Wait. I know. I could run to my quarters before he opens the door, get ready for bed, tousle my hair a bit and then run back here and claim I had a terrible nightmare and need him to comfort me! Oh, yes! Except I‘m pretty sure he‘ll take one look at me in my sleeping shorts, equipped with raging hard-on as standard issue, and kick my butt back out of the door without waiting for an explanation. And speaking of doors, why the hell hasn‘t this one opened yet?

B‘Elanna‘s pov

" I fail to understand Chakotay‘s refusal to accept that his prior relationship is undoubtedly over."

I look at the perplexed expression of my beloved and have to smile at her. Despite our own relationship she has still not grasped the nuances of human emotions. Though she sometimes gets a damn good blast of half-Klingon ones!

"It‘s not that easy, Seven. He can‘t just turn off his feelings because they are inconvenient or even illogical." "It is inefficient to waste time being concerned about remote probabilities. His energy would be better employed in dealing with the current known factors."

"It depends on the possible harm that those remote probabilities may represent." I reply.

I find that it is easier to converse with Seven if I use the language she understands. It is one of the compromises that have been the price of our marriage. Not that I regret any of it. I admit that Seven is bombastic, stubborn, unreasonable and often unemotional but it is those qualities that temper my wild uncontrolled passions. We fit together like a hand in a glove. Each of us giving to each other what we lack. Two sides of a coin. Two halves of a whole. Pretty mushy thoughts for a warrior, I guess, but undeniably true.

Sometimes though, like tonight, I find it difficult that she cannot fully share my problems, cannot understand my worry because she doesn‘t have a frame of reference to compare my feelings with. It‘s not her fault. Given her experience with the Borg it is amazing that she functions as well as she does.

I love her so much. My ice princess. My beautiful, brilliant lover. But sometimes I need wiser counsel. Usually at times like this I find Chakotay. He is my dependable shoulder to cry on. My staunch anchor in this uncertain life.

Who can I talk to now? When it is he whom I need to discuss. I cannot betray his confidence with anyone else on board. So I have no choice. I must talk it over with Seven and even if I fail to make her understand, at least she is a Wailing Wall for my fears to bounce off.

TOM‘S pov
I‘ve finally given up. Either Chakotay is not answering or he isn‘t in his quarters.

"Computer, location of Commander Chakotay"
"Commander Chakotay is on Deck 5, observation lounge 2" the computer replies to my astonishment.

It is gone midnight. We both have early shift tomorrow. What on earth is he doing?

Perhaps he‘s with someone. Don‘t misunderstand. I didn‘t mean that in a negative way. I mean if I can‘t get my leg over, how the hell would anybody else? But he might be with the Captain or something. I‘d better check. I can‘t think of anything worse than charging into a secret staff meeting at this time of night. "Charging in?"

You‘ve caught me. Yes of course I‘m going to go and find him.

And damn the consequences.

B‘Elanna‘s pov

I realise that the only way to possibly explain myself to Seven is to give her the whole sordid story. Even then I doubt she‘ll understand because trying to explain Angel to someone who‘s never met him is kind of like trying to describe blue to a blind person. It‘s that frame of reference problem again. But maybe if I simply tell her everything it will at least chase away the cobwebs in my own head. Deciding I may as well be comfortable whilst I talk, I slip into bed beside her. She‘s sitting up reading, at the moment, with the pillows fluffed behind her and the bedside light casting a halo in the loose waves of her unbound golden hair. She looks like an Angel herself. I snuggle beside her and let my own hair spill like a black scarf over the bare skin of her pearly white shoulder as I press my cheek for comfort into the yielding firmness of her breast. It is only then that I begin my tale:

I hadn‘t been in the Maquis for very long. About three months I guess. I‘d been really unhappy. If I‘d had anywhere else to go I would have left. But I‘d burnt my bridges with Mother and with Star Fleet and I didn‘t want to be alone. No one liked me. To be honest there wasn‘t anything to like back then. I was young and angry and I hated everyone and everything. An accident of birth had left me unable to fit in anywhere. The Klingons didn‘t want me and the humans feared me.

The only person who made my life bearable was Chakotay. He was the leader of my Maquis cell. I hated him at first, he was just so damned Starfleet! You see, it shouldn‘t surprise anyone that he fitted right into Voyager, because the truth was he was a Starfleet officer through and through. If it hadn‘t been for the fact that Dorvan V was involved in the conflict, if his family hadn‘t been murdered by the Cardassians, he‘d be safe in the Alpha Quadrant right now, Captain of his own ship probably. And I can‘t even imagine what would have become of me.

You see he ignored my hate and my scorn. He never lost his temper with me. If he criticized me it was always in such a sad soft voice. As though my actions reflected on him. As though I hurt him personally with my childish behavior. Before long, without even consciously being aware of it, I was doing everything I could to keep that hurt tone out of his voice. To keep that wonderful smile on his face. I realise now that it was his way of manipulating me but I don‘t mean that as a complaint. I love him. To be honest there was a time back then when I was ‘in love‘ with him. I don‘t think I would have stood a chance even if he liked women. He saw me as a prodigal daughter, a replacement for his younger sisters perhaps. And once I recovered from my crush I began to regard him as the father I never had. It was soon after we had developed this new understanding that I accompanied him on a supply mission to DS5. Chakotay‘s face was becoming too recognisable at our usual haunts. He chose me to go with him because I was a new face, I think. It was less likely that we‘d be caught Anyway, it didn‘t work. We had only been on the station for a couple of hours when we noticed the security officers beginning to block the exits. We barely escaped onto our shuttle and Chakotay managed to land a lucky shot and disable their tractor beam but not before we had sustained heavy damage. We ran for a couple of days before we had to eject our anti-matter containment field and then we were like ducks in the water, limping along at ¼ impulse, just waiting to get caught.

We were almost dead by the time a vessel found us. The emergency generators had failed and life support was at minimal. We were out of food and water. To be honest I was glad Starfleet had found us. Only it wasn‘t a Starfleet ship after all. It was a border control ship from Hera. We‘d floated right into their outer defenses. I was pretty scared when they beamed us aboard. I‘d grown up in the federation, been schooled in the horrors of eugenics, the villainy of Khan. All I knew about Hera was that it was a closed world full of genetically engineered supermen. Having grown up teased by my human playmates about how ugly I was, how my Klingon features were repulsive, I couldn‘t bear to meet these perfect people. I was sure that they would be disgusted by me.

When we arrived in their transporter room it was like a nightmare. There were maybe a dozen Herans. They were all giants; the shortest well over six and a half-foot tall, all blonde and nauseatingly beautiful. Their bodies were perfect, their faces completely symmetrical. They were completely overwhelming. Too perfect. Unreal. Somehow their very beauty was monstrous. It‘s impossible to explain their effect on me except that they were like a higher lifeform, another step up in the evolutionary chain. They made me feel so inferior just by the very fact of their existence. I wanted to cover myself up and hide from them.

They were completely gentle and welcoming with us, they fed us, gave us quarters, repaired our ship. Nothing in their attitude suggested they felt superior. But they simply were. I couldn‘t even talk with them. They spoke in complex algorithms like it was their language. When I tried to help them they just laughed at me kindly and patted me on the head like an amusing child.

I never saw Chakotay after the first couple of hours. He had disappeared into the bowels of the ship and other than sending me the occasional Comm signal to assure me he was okay; he didn‘t emerge again until it was time to leave.

It wasn‘t until our ship was primed for take off that Chakotay turned up. He was different. Changed somehow. He glowed with happiness. It was like he‘d taken a drug. I‘d never seen him so animated, so full of life. I didn‘t know what had happened to him but I was so pleased to see him smiling like that. Then he introduced me to the reason. Angel.

Somehow they‘d taken one look at each other and it was history. As far as I can ascertain they had fallen straight into bed and had stayed there the whole week. When we left, Angel came with us. You have to understand that it was an unbelievable thing for him to do. The Herans are terrified of ‘normals‘, they have been raised for generations with the knowledge that they would be hunted and killed simply for being what they were. It had only been a few years since they were given closed world status and federation protection. Up until then they had been considered fair game for anyone. To leave that protection. To venture out into space with someone he had only known for a week, took a courage that even I find hard to comprehend, especially since Herans are genetically incapable of aggression. For all his size and phenomenal strength Angel is as helpless as a baby in a fight.

You can‘t imagine what a burden Angel‘s choice is for Chakotay. The responsibility he feels for letting Angel come with us. He didn‘t think it through. Didn‘t consider the virtual impossibility of keeping him safe. Who would have with a virtual god swearing unending devotion to you? I‘m not saying he has ever regretted it before now, though I‘d be surprised if he hadn‘t. But he was drunk on lust, on pride that such a glorious creature should have chosen him, and he made a promise, a solemn and binding promise that in exchange for Angel‘s trust he would never, ever leave him. Seven takes a long time to reply, obviously mulling my story over in her mind. When she finally speaks I am surprised by her comment "You are beautiful, B‘Elanna. I cannot comprehend anyone thinking otherwise."

I am ridiculously touched at the fact that she has discarded the rest of the tale and honed in on my own insecurities. "Thank you, Seven, I‘ll never tire of you saying that, of making me believe it. But do you see now why Chakotay can‘t let go? Why he shouldn‘t start a relationship with Tom?" "No. Your conclusion is flawed. Chakotay did not ‘leave‘. He did not break his promise. The events that have brought him here are not in his control. He is lonely, Tom is lonely. They are attracted to each other. Their relationship is logical."

"But what if we get home. What if Angel is waiting?"

Seven is silent for a long time before replying. "Should such a situation occur, the probability is high that the Commander will feel bound by his original commitment." And that‘s what I‘m so very afraid of.


I have been stood here for hours, lost in indecision, in memories of choices made. I am incapable of moving, of walking to my quarters, of doing anything except stare into the cold loneliness of space. I have never felt so hopeless, so cold, so alone. I barely register the door opening and the soft-footsteps pausing in confusion for a long time before they creep up behind me. It is not until I feel the warmth of his body sink into the length of my back, his arms wrap themselves securely around my torso and his chin descend to rest on the back of my head that I am truly aware of his company.

"Tom" I whisper in defeat and sink back into his embrace. We stand there looking at the stars together as I steal the warmth from his body. Eventually he speaks in a voice soft with concern and a little fear "What are you doing, Chakotay. Why are you just standing here?" "Just thinking, Tom."
"About us?"


"I‘m sorry" he mumbles miserably

"I know."
He lets his head slide down to rest on my shoulder and I can feel his tears trickling down my neck.

That‘s when I understand. That‘s when I realise that we are both so unhappy now that nothing we can do can make it worse. We may as well grab happiness whilst we can. Whilst there is still time. In sudden decision I spin around fiercely, breaking his grip, and he lets his arms fall to his sides at my apparent rejection. For a long time I stare into his sad blue eyes, gazing into the depths of his battered soul and then I step forwards so quickly that he flinches. As I grab his shoulders I see fear flash in his eyes only to be replaced by wonder as my hands begin to fumble with the fastening of his jumpsuit. For an instant he is so shocked that I am afraid he might literally faint, then a huge relieved grin splits his face and his own hands leap eagerly to the fastenings of my own clothes.

We are both naked so fast that I am almost breathless, but I still have enough composure to bark out a privacy lock on the door. I grab him in my arms and embrace him, feeling the delicious friction of his erection against mine. I rub up against his beautiful body, five years of longing translated into the possessive clawing of my fingers into his back.

Tom gives a cry and shudders and I feel the sticky wetness of his cum splattering my belly. Oh, Spirits, I‘m overwhelmed that my mere touch has done this to him. I feel him tense and he starts to sob, I can barely hear his franticly mumbled apology. His eyes are closed in shame at his loss of control. Gently I cup his chin and raise his face to mine.

"Tom. Look at me, Tom" I whisper gently, my words a caress in the silence. Slowly he opens his eyes and searches my face for derision at his flashing. He finds only love.

"Thank you, Tom. You can‘t imagine how honored I feel at you showing me your love like this. It‘s best this way. Best to get the first over with quickly. Now we can take our time and get to know each other properly." I say with gentle understanding and watch his face relax into the most honest expression that it has ever shown me. Complete acceptance and love.

"Take me, Chak. Please!" He asks and his eyes are bright with longing. There is no doubt or hesitation in him. Just a deep and generous need.

Unwilling to let him go now I have finally accepted him in my arms, I walk him slowly backwards to the replicator. I certainly have no intention of hurting him with my act of love. Tom doesn‘t wait for me, he grabs the lubrication as soon as it appears and starts to apply it generously to my cock. Just the sensation of the warm gel and Tom‘s fingers is almost too much for me. I grasp his wrist gently to stop the delicious friction.

I am almost seared by the heat in his eyes as he looks at me and without a word he turns and drops to his hands and knees. "Take me" he begs and I need no further invitation. I drop to the floor behind him and rub my own cock to lubricate my fingers. Tom spreads his knees to reveal his most private place and I find myself gasping at his gift to me. With my index finger I start to tease open the tight hole, watching his buttocks quivering as he begins to pant with desperate need.

Slowly I work in a second finger and then a third. Gently I move my fingers around until I find the hidden nub of his prostate and then very carefully scrape a nail across it. Tom literally leaps in the air at the sensation, bucking on my fingers, gasping in pleasure. "Fuck me, Chakotay. Fuck me now!" he demands through clenched teeth. As I withdraw my fingers Tom gives an involuntary groan which turns into a gasp as he feels me guide my cock to his tight passage. "Oh, Yes, yes, do it" he begs and slowly I begin to force myself into him.

Tom is so tense, so stiff with need, that he can‘t consciously relax his ass muscles so I am incredibly careful with my entry, inching in slowly, listening carefully to his whimpers, amazed at my own selfcontrol.

When I am finally fully submerged, my balls pressed tightly to his, I pause whilst he adjusts and catches his breath.

"Okay" he gasps, "Do it"

I grasp his hips and pull him back onto my cock so that he is sitting on my lap. His own weight impales him even deeper and he moans in pleasure. I run my fingers over his tight nipples, pinching and squeezing lightly. He is squirming on my lap his head back, neck arched with pleasure and I lean around to taste his eager mouth. As I use my left thumb to gently flick his tender nipples I reach down with my right hand and grasp his cock which is newly erect. In the same rhythm as I am raping his mouth with my tongue, I start to stroke his eager cock.

Even around my tongue I can hear his gasps and moans at the stimulation. He is jerking helplessly in my arms from the multiple sensations in his mouth, nipples, cock and ass. When I am finally sure he is at the brink, when his eyes are rolling from an overload of pleasure, I rock him gently forward onto his hands and begin to thrust slowly into his ass.

He is quivering and screaming. Sweat is pouring off his back and running down the cleft of his butt. I increase my pace until his whole body judders with each plunge.

"Harder" he gasps and since I had considered he should have been past the ability to talk by now, I obey, renewing my efforts so that my whole body weight is slamming into him with each stroke. With a howl that could wake the dead, Tom comes again and as his muscles clench and spasm I feel myself erupt into him, filling his wonderful body with my hot seed, pumping furiously until every last drop is spent and then I collapse onto him. When my frantic heart stops its attempt to batter its way out of my chest and a little strength returns to my limbs I roll sideways and take Tom into my arms. He is dazed and crushed. He sinks his head into my chest and lies there quietly in my embrace for so long that I begin to worry.

I have done all I can. I have used every scrap of knowledge and experience to make it as wonderful for him as I know how. I wanted him to never regret any of our times together; His uncharacteristic silence is like a blow.

"Tom?" I query softly and then say the oldest line in the book "Was is good for you?" I feel myself cringe even as the words emerge but my embarrassment fades rapidly as he finally lifts his face to look me in the eye.

His pale skin is flushed a deep red with exertion. His pale hair is dark with sweat and is plastered to his head. But he has never looked as beautiful as he does in this moment as the happiest smile I have ever seen spreads like a sunrise over his features. "Good?" he gasps with laughter "It was great, fantastic, mind-blowing. It was the best!"

And sinking his exhausted head back onto my chest he simply falls asleep.