The Game
By Morticia

Part 6/?

"Um, would you like a drink, Tom?" Chakotay asked nervously, when
they arrived back in his quarters.

He had led Tom through the corridors at almost a run, the taste of
Tom filling his mouth, the pressure in his groin so intense that it
had actually been painful to walk, yet now, as the door whispered
shut behind them, his impetus slowed and he was suddenly afraid.

They were no longer in that magical glade, the passion that had swept
through him, and that was still raging in his blood, suddenly seemed
a little sordid in the ordinary setting of his quarters.

What if it had just been the heat of the moment for Tom?

What if the pilot was already having second thoughts?


Tom groaned inwardly as he saw the sudden confusion on the older
man's face.

Fuck. The bastard was changing his mind again. Well, too damned bad.
He hadn't gotten this far just to let the fish off the hook now.

Chakotay's peculiar sense of, what was word he was looking for?
Chivalry, that was it, Chakotay's old-fashioned chivalry was
beginning to seriously piss him off. But, whatever it took, he
shrugged. He decided to play Chakotay's game tonight. Hell, if the
big guy wanted to pretend to be a knight errant, Tom could do damsel
in distress.

He waited until Chakotay's back was turned towards the replicator and
then savagely squeezed his left nipple. Already bruised from
Chakotay's bite of passion, the skin was tender and sensitive, so it
only took a fierce wrench for tears of pain to well up in his eyes.

Then he approached Chakotay's back and hesitantly tapped him on the


Staring sightlessly at the replicator controls, trying to control his
breathing, and wondering how the hell he could get Tom into the
bedroom without giving the impression that all he wanted to do was
screw Tom through the mattress, which was admittedly true, Chakotay
nearly leapt out of his skin as Tom's fingers touched his shoulder.

He spun around in surprise, only to see the pilot's blue eyes
drowning in tears.

Oh, Spirits, what had he done? He felt like a monster. He had
accidentally upset Tom with his clumsy words, then had taken
advantage of Tom's need for comfort.

He knew Tom had been genuinely turned on, but that hadn't meant it
was something he had really wanted, had it? Tom's body obviously
wanted him, but he was beginning to suspect that Tom's mind was too
confused to know what it wanted.

"I'm sorry, Tom. So sorry," he whispered, wiping at Tom's confused
tears. "I think you should go home now."


Tom nearly collapsed in shock.

The bastard. The fucking cock-teasing BASTARD.

For the first time in his memory, he was completely at a loss for

He had scurried here after Chakotay, his ass already aching in
anticipation of a fuck to end all fucks after the way that Chakotay
had bitten him, with an animal passion that had completely taken his
breath away. Chakotay's touch had screamed a promise of such wild,
rough and abandoned sex to come, that he had shot his own load the
moment Chakotay's lips had touched his cock.

Hell, he had seen the fire in Chakotay's eyes and had interpreted it
as danger, he had never anticipated the volcanic passion under the
Commander's stoic façade.

And now the bastard was just telling him to go home?

What a fucking prick tease!

He couldn't stop a whimper of disappointment from bubbling through
his furious lips.

"I - I thought, I mean you said, you said you loved me!" he
snivelled, letting the tears flow down his cheeks to emphasize his

Through the watery film, his eyes saw Chakotay's face soften into an
expression of adoration, and Tom's ass wiggled in sudden excitement
as Chakotay's arms wrapped themselves around him in a fierce bear-hug.

He went limp in Chakotay's embrace and closed his eyes in
anticipation of being swept up in Chakotay's arms, carried into the
bedroom and ravaged within an inch of his life.


As soon as Tom uttered the words, "You said you loved me!" Chakotay
knew his doubts were correct.

Poor Tom *did* think that he had to sleep with him just to keep his

As much as he was sure that Tom would enjoy the experience, despite
the fact that he was positive that Tom's responsive body would
cheerfully dance to his tune, Chakotay couldn't in all conscience
sleep with anyone if they saw the sex as emotional blackmail.

It was too important. Tom was too important. Chakotay couldn't
possibly risk the possibility that Tom would wake up the next day
feeling used.

Tom had been upset on the holodec, just as he was obviously
emotionally over-wrought now, and no matter how much his own body was
screaming at him to simply give in and accept Tom's offer, his
conscience refused.


He wouldn't do it.

He wouldn't take advantage like this.

Maybe he was fooling himself. Perhaps Tom didn't have the same deep
convictions about the sanctity of the physical expression of love.
Yet, it didn't matter. It was his own conscience that he would have
to answer to, and his gut feeling was that it would be wrong to go
through with it tonight.

He was relieved that he had at least dealt with Tom's own arousal. It
would have been cruel and unfair to leave Tom unsatisfied after he
had driven him to such a frenzy. But Tom wasn't responsible for the
hard-on he himself was sporting and he'd be damned if he used Tom
just to slake his own lust.

"I do love you, Tom," he whispered. "I love you more than I thought
it was possible to love another person."

Tom moaned and pressed against him, his lighter frame melting against
his chest, his head bowed into Chakotay's neck so that his hot tears
stung Chakotay's flesh like accusations.

It was the feel of Tom's tears trickling down his neck that hardened
his resolve.

When he and Tom slept together, and spirits it had better be soon or
he would explode, he had to be *sure* it was really what Tom wanted.
Tom had to be smiling, and happy, not crying in fear of abandonment.

"I love you, Tom," Chakotay repeated. "Now dry your eyes, go home and
get some sleep, okay?"

Tom pulled back out of his arms and looked at him with such
astonishment that Chakotay was sure he had done the right thing.

"You don't, don't want, I mean, aren't you going to, to, umm, fuck
me?" Tom stuttered. "You, you, umm, you said you wanted to fuck me."

Chakotay smiled softly in apology.

"No, Tom, I was wrong. I don't want to "fuck" you. When we sleep
together I want us to be making love," he explained gently. "So, for
now, I think it's best if you go home."


Harry choked on his whiskey.

As soon as Tom had stormed into Sandrines and attacked the pool table
like a vengeful demon, Harry had realised that something had gone
seriously wrong with Tom's date.

Harry hadn't even managed to touch the table. From the moment he
broke, until the last ball was violently rammed into a pocket, the
only sound in the bar was the savage crack of cue against ball.

Then Tom had slammed the cue down, grabbed Harry by the shoulder and
propelled him towards the bar with a curt "Your round, Haz."

Too desperate to hear the juicy details to risk interruption, Harry
had suggested they returned to his quarters instead. Tom had started
to refuse, until Harry had slyly reminded him that he still had an
unopened bottle of genuine scotch whiskey.

Harry had been saving it for years, for one very special occasion,
and he had an odd feeling, looking at Tom's face, that tonight could
be *the* night.

"So, he sucked you off, told you he loved you, then threw you out of
his quarter's," Harry gasped, his throat burning as the whiskey went
down the wrong way.

Tom's eyes blazed as he stared endlessly into his own glass, as
though the amber liquid held the answer to the mystery that was
Commander Chakotay.

For a long time, he ignored Harry's question, before finally raising
his face, his features etched with miserable confusion.

"I thought I had him, Haz," he spat. "He was in my sights, Haz, a
clear target, I cocked my gun, I aimed, I fired, I fucking missed!"

"He's clever," Harry commiserated with a burp.

"He played me, Haz. He fucking played me again!" Tom hissed, taking
another gulp of his drink.

"Well, at least he blew you," Harry said. "That's progress, at least."

"Yeah, I guess," Tom agreed miserably.

"Was he good?" Harry asked.

A grin crept over Tom's drunken face.

"Yeah, he was *hot*," he chuckled. "Look," and he ripped his shirt
open to show his swollen nipples. He tried to look down himself, but
moving his head made him feel too dizzy, so he closed his eyes and
let his head fall backwards instead.

Harry gulped at the sight of Tom sprawled half-naked on his couch. He
could see dark bruises around Tom's areolae and definite teeth-marks
on the left nipple.

He bit his own lips, then slid down of his chair, swaying a little at
the change of altitude, then crawled between Tom's open legs so that
his head was level with Tom's chest.

As Harry's mouth closed around his right nipple, hard enough to leave
his own mark, Tom jerked awake.

"What you doin' Haz?" he slurred.

Harry sucked harder, drawing a deep moan out of Tom's throat.

"You like this, don't you?" Harry murmured, as Tom bucked helplessly
under his teeth.

"Oh, fuck, yeah!" Tom agreed, as Harry's mouth drove him wild.

He felt Harry fumbling with his trousers and he instinctively lifted
his hips to help, then shuddered as he felt the cold air on his groin.

"Cold," he slurred, "I'm cold, Haz."

"I know, Tom. Try and get up, we can go to bed, it's warm in bed."

Tom staggered to his feet, then lurched as his feet tangled with his
trousers. Harry contemplated pulling them back up, decided it would
be a waste of time and instead removed Tom's boots so he could slide
the jeans off completely.

Then Harry rose, threw Tom's left arm over his own shoulders, wrapped
his right hand around Tom's waist, half-dragged, half-carried him to
the bedroom and dropped him face down on the bed.

Quickly stripping, he scrambled onto the bed next to Tom, hesitated
nervously, then dropped his head to Tom's firm ass cheeks and finally
did the thing that had consumed his fantasies for years.

He bit Tom's ass.