The Game
By Morticia

Part 1/?

Overall Rating: NC-17

"May I?"

Chakotay looked up in surprise at the familiar yet completely
unexpected drawl. He managed only a confused nod as Tom Paris placed
his drink on the table, drew out the seat opposite, turned it around
so that the back was facing the table and then straddled it.

Chakotay's eyes were inexorably drawn over the table ledge to the gap
between the chair's back and seat. He swallowed dryly.

"That doesn't look very comfortable," he murmured, trying not to
stare at the way Tom's crotch seemed to be straining against the
whitened denim.

"What doesn't?" Tom asked innocently.

Chakotay coughed and stared into his drink before adopting his
professional face.

"Chairs were designed to be sat on, not straddled like a horse," he
said, wondering whether there was any blood circulation in Tom's
legs. He had seen how tightly Tom's jeans caressed his ass when he
had been playing pool. Which was admittedly one of the reasons he had
dawdled in Sandrine's himself.

Tom Paris's ass deserved nomination as one of the official wonders of
the planet Earth, in his opinion. Forget the Taj Mahal and the
Hanging Gardens, Chakotay had long since decided that perfection
resided somewhere inside Tom Paris's perpetually over-tight pants.

Sometimes, when the call of duty gave him perspective, Chakotay
contemplated taking Tom aside and explaining exactly *why* it wasn't
healthy for a man to wear such tight, restrictive clothing.

But then, as now, he would contemplate life on Voyager without Tom's
nightly floor show and would sigh in defeat.

Tom folded his arms over the chair back, leant his chin over his
cupped hands and sucked thoughtfully on his straw.

Swallowing as convulsively as if it was himself drinking, Chakotay's
eyes were pinned by the way Tom's sensuous mouth pursed around the
straw. When Tom's eyes closed blissfully, Chakotay shuddered in
reaction. How the hell could Tom turn something as innocent as a
glass of orange juice into an almost sexual experience?

Speaking of which, what *was* Tom doing with a glass of orange
instead of his usual beer?

"That's a change for you, isn't it?" Chakotay tried to ask casually,
although he winced at the way his own usually low tones squeaked
alarmingly as Tom gave a deep moan of satisfaction, releasing the
straw and licking at his lips with a satisfied purr.

"Well, it's good to have a change sometimes, isn't it?" Tom
replied. "Don't *you* ever get bored of the same old, same old,

"Cha-," cough, "Chakotay."


"We're off duty, Tom. Call me Chakotay," he snapped, flushing
furiously at the way his voice had almost broken again. What the
hell was Tom trying to do to him?

"Chakotay," Tom purred. "It's a nice name. Don't think I ever told
you that, did I?"

Chakotay rubbed his eyes tiredly. He couldn't deal with this right
now. Maybe the pilot got some kick out of flirting with him like
this, but even the wonderful view wasn't worth the price to his soul.

"Your *friends* are waiting for you, Ensign," he snapped, gesturing
towards the pool table.

Tom's eyes flicked disinterestedly to watch Harry and the Delaney
Twins who were still at the pool table where he had abandoned them.
He gave a dismissive shrug.

"Like I said, Chakotay," and again he drawled the name so that it
emerged like warm treacle through his pursed lips, "I'm fed up with
the same old, same old."

Chakotay felt his cock stiffen and batter eagerly at the material of
his own pants. He threw his shoulders back angrily and jerked to his

"It's late. If you don't mind, I'm going to retire now," he hissed
angrily. He was furious that he was letting Tom's harmless flirting
affect him so badly. Only it hurt too damn much. He should never have
come here to watch Tom play.

It had been the third week in a row that he had spent Friday night
nursing a solitary beer in Sandrine's and trying not to be
transparent about the reason for his presence. Obviously Tom had seen
through him and had decided to come over and taunt him.

"What if I say I *do* mind?" Tom asked softly.

It wasn't so much Tom's words that stopped Chakotay from storming
away, as the hesitant tone of his voice. Chakotay turned to see
something that he would have placed odds against ever seeing on Tom's
cocky face; a genuine blush beneath eyes that were suddenly
uncertain, their clear blue muddied by swirling currents of self-

As though the question had suddenly dried his mouth, Tom's tongue
snaked along his lips until they glistened in the low flickering bar

Chakotay felt an unpleasant ache in his stomach as he forced himself
to joke lightly.

"What exactly *is* in that orange juice, Tom?"

To his surprise, Tom ducked his head and played nervously with the

"Oh, just a double-measure of regret, I guess," he whispered.

Chakotay felt his knees weaken and he sat down again abruptly.

"What's wrong, Tom?" he asked solicitously.

Damn, here he had been letting his own subconscious interpret Tom's
behaviour as flirting, when evidently the pilot had been approaching
him professionally.

"Are you still having nightmares? I know you had a hard time in the
brig, and your demotion must have been a serious blow to your self-
esteem, but you *are* a valued member of this crew. Beating yourself
up about what happened isn't going to help matters."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Tom said bitterly.

"Don't get what, Tom?"

"Forget it, I shouldn't have said anything, I shouldn't have come
over. Just go to bed, Commander. Like you said, it's late, I'm tired,
and I just made a fool of myself, that's all."

"Made a fool of yourself how?" Chakotay asked in genuine puzzlement.

Tom flushed.

"Look I said forget it, alright?" he spat, beginning to rise from his

Chakotay's hand flew out and encircled Tom's wrist, trapping him in

"Not alright, Tom," he insisted.

"Oh shit," Tom cursed miserably.

"Tell me."

Tom's head jerked up and his eyes flashed furiously over his red-
stained cheekbones.

"I made a mistake, okay? I fucked up. I thought, I thought, oh fuck,
what the hell does it matter what I thought? You obviously aren't
interested in me that way. My mistake, okay? Just forget about it."

Chakotay gave a stunned gasp before he forced his voice to remain
relatively calm as he answered.

"What made you think I *was* interested in you, Tom?" he asked

"You've been watching me, haven't you?" Tom snapped back
defensively. "I mean what was I supposed to think when every time I
turned around I found your eyes on my ass?"

"I - "

"No, don't bother saying it, Commander. I realise now that it was my
own imagination. I just saw what I wanted to see, obviously. I mean
why the hell would you want anything to do with a loser like me?
Shit, I should have realised that the only thing you wanted to do
with my ass was kick it," Tom said bitterly.

"Tom, I - "

"Please let me go, Commander," Tom begged, twisting his wrist against
Chakotay's firm grasp, his eyes suspiciously bright.

"I'm only letting you go on one condition, Tom," Chakotay replied
softly, his face unreadable.

"What condition," Tom asked, flinching.

"That you have dinner with me tomorrow night," Chakotay replied.

It seemed to take a few moments for Chakotay's words to sink in, then
the misery on Tom's face was chased away by dawning hope.

"You, you mean like a, a date kind of dinner?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, a date kind of dinner," Chakotay confirmed, his own heart

A tear dripped from one of Tom's glistening eyes, but the smile on
his face was radiant.

"I'd like that," he said with shy simplicity.

Chakotay released Tom's wrist and stood up.

"2030, my quarters. Don't be late, Ensign."

Tom grinned.

"No, Sir, Commander, Sir," Tom replied with a cocky mock-salute. "Do
you want me to bring anything?" he added more seriously.

Chakotay paused, reached down and ran the tip of his index finger
gently under one of Tom's tear-filled eyes. Then, bringing his wet
finger to his own lips, he sucked on the salt-taste with the same
display of sensuous pleasure that Tom had with his orange juice.

"Ummm," he purred. "Just dessert, I think."

Tom's eyes widened in shock as Chakotay gave him a wink, turned and
prowled out of the bar.

He was still sitting in stunned contemplation of how sexy Chakotay's
finger sucking had been when Harry slid into the seat vacated by the

"Well?" he demanded.

Tom's expression transformed into a triumphant smirk. It was answer
enough for Harry.

"Shit, you really went ahead with it?"

"I told you I would," Tom drawled carelessly.

"You're playing with fire, Tom. I've seen the way he looks at you.
This isn't just a casual thing for him. He'll kill you if he finds

"Why the hell will he ever find out, Harry? He wants my ass, I want
my rank back. It's business, that's all. Once I've got what I wanted,
I'll let him down nicely. Hell, I can probably get him to finish with
me instead. Cleaner that way."

Harry bit his lower lip.

"I don't think it's going to be that easy, Tom. The Commander doesn't
take relationships lightly. You're biting off more than you can chew

"Look, I've kept my nose clean for months and the Captain hasn't even
suggested that I will *ever* get my rank back. I know how these
things work, Harry. So either I sleep with *her* or I sleep with him.
Either way, I end up getting that pip back on my shoulder, and given
the choice, I reckon Chakotay is probably the better fuck."

Harry's mouth gaped.

"I can't believe you said that, Tom, and I really don't see why the
hell it matters anyway. You're still Chief Pilot, you kept your
Lieutenant's quarters, nothing's changed at all except your title.
Are you sure you aren't just using this as an excuse to do something
that you subconsciously want to do anyway?"

"Get real, Harry," Tom scoffed. "It's just a game. It's like poker,
that's all. Whoever bluffs the best, wins the pot."

Harry just shrugged and hid his worry behind a reluctant smile. Just
as he had seen Chakotay checking out Tom's ass, he hadn't failed to
notice Tom's evident fascination with the Commander.

He had a horrible feeling that the only person who would end up
really hurt at the end of this "game" was Tom.