By Morticia

(Yes another mini epic)
ST. Voyager
C/P C/Other T/7 J/Tu (will someone tell me if these pairing codes are wrong, please, they are all insisting on getting into the action and I‘m getting confused S)

Rating. SLASH, m/m NC-17

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

So here I am again. Four days on and once again I am fidgeting helplessly at the Conn as though I‘ve got piles or something. My ass is on fire.

I feel like my butt is in a furnace and every time I move some sadistic invisible demon is sticking a hot poker up my bum. Wow, it hurts. In fact the only thing hotter at the moment is the blush on my face.

I can feel Chakotay‘s eyes locked onto the back of my head and I can just imagine the effort he must be making to keep a straight face as he watches me squirm.


By the time we woke this morning there was barely enough time for me to run to my quarters, grab a quick shower and change into a fresh uniform before meeting Chakotay again as we stumbled out of the turbolift together, onto the bridge, with bare seconds to spare. Believe it or not we haven‘t said a word to each other. Every time one of us tried to speak, we caught each other‘s eyes and just descended into giggles.

Can you imagine it? Chakotay giggling?

Then again, it‘s no wonder he was laughing. He was probably anticipating the look of horror on my face when I finally sat down at the helm and realised the price of last night‘s ecstasy. Bastard.

But it was, you know. Ecstasy, I mean. He completely blew me away. Don‘t get me wrong, it‘s not like I‘ve never had a dick up my ass before. I mean, like I said before, I‘ve been around the block a bit.

I‘ve had every imaginable object inserted in every imaginable orifice in my hedonistic search for pleasure. I‘m no blushing virgin. I like sex and I‘ve never been afraid to admit it. So what if people think I‘m a slut? It‘s never been enough to stop them taking advantage of my weaknesses.

Only, I think I‘ve finally hit the nail on the head with that thought. Whilst I‘ve never objected to being used as long as there was enough pleasure in the experience for me, I‘ve always known that that was all it was - being used. That‘s what was different about last night.

I have never had a partner before who took such exquisite care to push every one of my buttons. Who concentrated purely on my own pleasure. Who took an almost painful effort to ensure that it was the best sex I had ever experienced. Only it was more than that. We didn‘t have sex.

Chakotay made love to me.

Unless you‘ve been there yourself, you won‘t understand the difference. If you‘d asked me yesterday, I wouldn‘t have known the difference. With just one night of passion Chakotay has irredeemably changed me. It‘s as though I only knew the taste of water and he has introduced me to wine. Water will never taste so good again. He has ruined me, created a taste in me for better things. I will never be able to pretend that I don‘t know the difference. He‘s also completely rearranged my internal organs.


The sudden sound of his dulcet voice breaks into my reverie "We seem to be drifting off course a little, Mr. Paris" His voice is soft with gentle amusement, his words caressing me like long tendrils of affection. As invisible, but as real, as radio waves I can feel the emotions surging from him and enveloping me. Damn! He‘s right. Only 0.2 degrees but it‘s there. I have forgotten to allow for the sluggish port nacelle that was damaged in our last encounter with the Hirogens.

"Sorry, Sir. Attempting to adjust to compensate"

A new wave of heat floods my blushing face at my stupid mistake and I furiously start to correct the minor error. I nearly fall out of my chair when his voice comes again. He has silently moved forwards to look over my shoulder at the Conn and I can feel his soft breath on the nape of my neck. I feel the tiny hairs there jump to attention in time with my cock‘s sudden leap of interest at his unexpected nearness.

"Perhaps if you try this." and he leans over me, using a hand on my shoulder to steady himself as he reaches over and taps something into the console.

I am trembling helplessly under his fingers as, unseen by the rest of the bridge crew, they gently caress my collarbone with teasing feather-light strokes, sending shivers of arousal through my whole body.

"What do you think, Mr. Paris?" he queries lightly and I look down at the screen to read the words he has input.

 perhaps a hot bath would be a good idea

Startled, I look up into his grinning face. See, I told you the bastard was laughing at me!

I attempt to keep a straight face under his mischievous scrutiny. His silent laughter is not mocking; it is simply the loving acknowledgement of a wonderful secret shared between us. Where is the stoic officer now? Did I only imagine the serious Chakotay of my old memories? How could I ever have failed to notice the humour that dances beneath his impassive face? I can see nothing now but unmistakable love shining in his eyes and want to hug myself to contain my overwhelming happiness.

"Um.I think that might work, Sir!" I reply as calmly as possible He taps another message before straightening and returning to his seat. I look at it and nearly collapse. If I die at this moment it will be worth it. I don‘t ever remember a better moment in my life.
The words just scream out at me from the console.

 Our quarters, 18.00 hours. I‘ll start the water running.

Did you see it? Did you see the most wonderful word ever?


He said "Our" quarters

Oh God, if there is a god, don‘t let this be a dream. And if it is a dream, don‘t let me ever wake up!


Kathryn‘s pov

The worst part of a Vulcan mind-link is you simply can‘t get away with being distracted during sex. I mean, with anyone else you can plaster a smile on your face, interject the odd moan and whimper, and your partner will happily continue his efforts, blissfully unaware of your disinterest.

That probably sounds awful. As though I am dissatisfied with Tuvok sexually. Nothing could be further than the truth. He‘s actually the perfect lover in most ways. He considers it illogical to take part in any activity without giving it his undivided attention and applying every talent at his disposal. This includes sexual activity. Despite the unplanned nature of our marriage, I consider myself a lucky woman in a lot of ways.

But, (and there‘s always a but - isn‘t there?) my brain doesn‘t work like his. We may be physically compatible but our minds are alien to each other. Since Tuvok‘s Ponn Farr we have shared our thoughts but not our thought processes. He understands what I think but cannot understand how I arrive at my conclusions. Tuvok‘s mind works like a computer A + B + C = D whereas I usually make an intuitive leap straight from A to D. Unfortunately if I arrive at E instead I, have no way of justifying my decision to him. I just know I‘m right. It makes for some interesting discussions. Furthermore, Tuvok does not juggle thoughts like I do. He compartmentalizes everything. He puts all his problems in separate boxes and once he has taken one out to consider he pops it back, slams the lid and opens the next box. I am not so disciplined. No matter what I am doing, sudden thoughts fly in, squawking like rowdy chickens, grabbing my attention, and refusing to be ignored. Hence the current problem.

With a disappointed shudder he has straightened his arms and risen up and out of me. The exquisite muscles of his stomach are shining blackly with perspiration above his wilting erection. The combination of his body warmth leaving me and the immediate guilt that engulfs me, make my body shiver in the sudden chill of our bedroom. With infinite understanding he lies down next to me, gathers me in his arms and pulls the bedclothes over us. It is not until we are thus comfortably placed, both staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, that we begin to talk. Aware of my inability to converse coherently with my mind alone, he graciously accedes to my unspoken request to talk aloud.

"You are particularly inattentive tonight"

"I‘m sorry, Tuvok I just can‘t stop thinking about something."

"What troubles you so?"


He is silent but I feel him ponder this, considering the fact that I had at one time been besotted by my enigmatic First Officer. Since our link, I have been able to hide no secrets from him. "Do you regret our marriage, Kathryn? Have I stolen happiness from you? Do you regret your decision?"

His words sound unemotional but I can feel his pain and regret. I turn and hug him fiercely in reassurance. I love this man. Even before his Ponn Farr, when my thoughts had been platonic, I had loved him. It was for his sake alone that I had thrust Voyager out on her first and last mission to rescue him from the badlands. I have never regretted it. I have never forgotten the look on his face when he refused to leave me to die alone when I had evacuated the crew to stop the Dreadnought. He was my staunch right hand. He was my family. He was my friend.

I admit that I had been bitterly disappointed to discover that Chakotay was gay. Not even BI, just gay. I had held a girlish fantasy about him even before our first meeting. He had been an anti-hero, a rebel, a Maquis, a pirate fantasy figure, dark and mysterious like a holovid character. Then I had met the real man and discovered his innate goodness, the terrible choice he had had to make. His daring escapades had taken on a poignancy in my mind. He became a tragic, heroic figure in my imagination and the easy way he integrated his crew into mine, the way he accepted his place beneath me with quiet dignity, soon secured him a firm foothold in my affections. I remember the exact moment I fell in love with him: It was at that most terrible moment in my life, when I had made the decision to destroy the Array, when I had decided to steal the lives from all my crew because of a personal sense of morality. B‘Elanna had gone crazy; she had demanded to know who was I to make this choice. And I heard Chakotay say softly "She‘s the Captain." That was when I lost my heart to him.

But I have long since accepted that it wasn‘t to be. In a strange way I am relieved. Just as I find the bridge quaking sometimes with the effect of a disagreement between Tuvok and myself, so it would be had Chakotay and I become lovers instead. It‘s easy to make a rule against P.D.A.‘s, it‘s harder to obey them and similarly sometimes it‘s impossible to leave angry feelings in your quarters too. I don‘t think Voyager could survive a relationship between her Captain and First Officer. There are too many sudden dangers, too many critical decisions to be made, to allow for us both to be distracted by emotion at the same time.

So I have put away my desire like an unwanted gift, locked it in a deep cellar and thrown away the key. But I still care for him very much as a dear and beloved friend.

All of these thoughts are shared with Tuvok in our intimate embrace. I hear him give a small sigh of relief as he accepts the truth of my feelings.

"What is the source of your concern for him?" He asks and I reply with a question of my own.

"Have you noticed any change in his behavior recently?" "He has been late for duty on one occasion. On that same occasion he left before the end of his shift. He has been seen to be spending an unusual amount of time with Mr. Paris. Both he and Mr. Paris have been distracted and emotional in the last few days. Today I noticed an unusual interaction between them on the Bridge." "Your conclusion?"

"Whilst I have insufficient data for a conclusion, I would surmise that the Commander and Mr. Paris have embarked on a relationship of a personal nature. It appears that after an initial indecision on both their parts they have now resolved their differences and are actively pursuing their association."

"I agree and it worries me."

"Are you concerned about the possible implications to the efficient running of the Bridge or the effect of the relationship on the individuals concerned."

"Both. Tom and Chakotay have taken years to overcome their dislike for each other. If their affair ends badly they are likely to return to that animosity. Just the thought of returning to their backbiting on the Bridge exhausts me. But more than that I am worried about them both. For some reason I am absolutely certain they are making a mistake. I just know that this will end up in tragedy." "On what facts are you basing this knowledge?" But I can‘t answer because I have no facts. On the surface of it, there is no problem with Tom and Chakotay getting together. They are both lonely. They evidently find each other attractive. I am aware of no dark secrets that will come tumbling out of Pandora‘s box at a later date to destroy them. There is not one single reason why I can have any objection to their relationship. Except I know, in that deep and infinite place between A and E where my instincts lie, that they are making a terrible mistake.