The Game
By Morticia

Part 7/?

"I can't believe you bit my fucking bum, Haz!" Tom spat, wriggling
uncomfortably as Harry ran the regenerator over his ass with
trembling fingers.

"I'm sorry, Tom," Harry snivelled.

"You'd better make damned sure there isn't a mark left," Tom
warned. "What the hell will Chakotay think?"

The words "If he even tries to look," crossed Harry's mind but he bit
his tongue. He was in enough shit with Tom already.

"I swear, Tom. There's no mark left. It's gone."

"So why the hell does it still hurt like fuck?" Tom demanded.

"I, um, I got a bit carried away, I think. I guess I tore a muscle or
two under the skin," Harry confessed guiltily.

"Fuck, Harry. What the hell were you trying to do?" Tom asked in

Harry mumbled something under his breath.

"What?" Tom demanded, rolling onto his back with a pained wince so
that he could look Harry in the face.

"Fuck you," Harry whispered guiltily. "I was trying to fuck you, Tom."

He waited for the explosion.

Instead, all Tom asked was, "Did you?"

"No," Harry replied miserably.

"Why not?" Tom asked in a tone of genuine interest. "I mean I was so
out of my face I wouldn't have stopped you. Hell, I might even have
enjoyed it, who knows?"

Harry flushed miserably.

"You threw up," he admitted. "I bit your ass and you screamed and
threw up all over the place. By the time I'd cleaned you and the bed
up, you were snoring your head off and I'd kind of sobered up myself."

Unbelievably, Tom started to chuckle. The sound deepened until he was
nearly roaring with laughter, tears of amusement rolling down his
cheeks. After Harry's first embarrassed flush, he found Tom's
laughter contagious. Now he knew that Tom wasn't going to kill him,
after all, he began to see the funny side too.
When Tom finally regained his self-control, he beckoned Harry to
climb back in bed.

"Come here, you," he said gruffly.

His heart leaping, Harry scrambled into Tom's arms and snuggled into
his chest with a whimper of relief. For a long time they just both
lay there, Tom staring at the ceiling and Harry contemplating the
beauty of Tom's dick.

"Oh, Harry," Tom eventually sighed. "I'm such a bastard to you,
aren't I?"

For a moment, Harry wondered whether he had woken in an alternate
universe. Then he had the horrid suspicion that he hadn't woken at
all. He was still asleep, dreaming that he had dealt with the problem
of the bite, and that was why he was still alive, because Tom hadn't
really woken up yet either.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Tom whispered, bending down to kiss the top of
Harry's head.

Harry pinched himself. Nothing changed. Shit, this was *real*.

"It's not your fault, Tom. You never led me on. I always knew exactly
where I stood with you. It's not your fault that I want more," he
murmured. "And what I did last night was wrong. It wasn't the
whiskey, well it was, but not the way you think."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

Harry flinched and closed his eyes before replying.

"I did it on purpose. I deliberately got you drunk. I pretended to
drink as much as you, but I didn't. I knew exactly what I was doing.
If you hadn't thrown up, I would have raped you, Tom."

As the air rang with his terrible confession, Harry waited for Tom to
knock him across the room. He deserved it, he knew. Hell, he wouldn't
even try to defend himself, he decided.

Tom let his breath out in a exhalation of surprise. Shit, Harry
really had it bad for him, and he had never even realised. Well, he
had, of course, but he hadn't understood, hadn't empathised because
he had never in his life been in the position of wanting someone
sexually and being denied until this thing with Chakotay.

He wondered vaguely whether he could get Chakotay drunk, then
dismissed the thought angrily. He didn't want to fuck the bastard, he
wanted Chakotay to fuck *him* and a drunken dick wasn't much use to

He was belatedly aware that Harry was shivering in his arms,
obviously expecting him to go crazy or something.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. We've been fucking for years, haven't we? I
think we're long past the point that either of us could cry rape. I'm
kind of sorry you didn't do it, if it meant that much to you,
although knowing you you'd have felt too guilty to enjoy it."

"You're not mad with me?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Of course not, and if, well, if this thing with Chakotay doesn't
work out, then maybe, and I'm not promising anything, but maybe, we
could try it properly some time, okay?"

"Okay, Tom," Harry sighed in ecstasy.

Tom wasn't angry. Hell, Tom had even offered his ass to him sober.
Well, okay, he'd said it depended on Chakotay, but Harry knew that
just meant it was only a matter of time.

"I love you, Tom," he mumbled.

"I know," Tom replied sadly, wishing he could lie and say he loved
Harry too.

It was weird how the lie refused to leave his lips. He didn't have
any problem lying to Chakotay, after all. He could look Chakotay
straight in the face and say the words without them even feeling
wrong to himself.

Maybe it was just because Harry was his friend, he decided.


Because it was a quiet day in the Delta Quadrant, the forward scans
bare of all Spacial anomalies, Borg cubes, Kazon warships, asteroid
fields, black holes or the other usual day to day dross of life on
Voyager, Chakotay didn't feel too guilty about requesting that he was
relieved of bridge duty to "catch up on paperwork" in his office.

Catch up on his sleep was a more apt description, of course. He had
spent the night tossing and turning, alternating between
congratulating himself for his self-control and cursing himself for
being a fool. Well he had spent half the night tossing and turning,
the rest of the time he had spent simply tossing himself off.

He had tried to comm Tom once, in the early hours of the morning,
when he had jerked awake suddenly sure he had made the biggest
mistake of his life when he had sent Tom home.

He had discovered that Tom had spent the night at Harry's place. It
was one of the reasons he couldn't face the bridge. He had obviously
upset Tom enough that he had needed a friend so badly that he had
spent the night on Harry's couch.

The idea of the lanky legged pilot trying to sleep on the tiny couch
in the Ensign's quarters made his own neck feel stiff in sympathy.
Poor Tom would be knotted like an old rope this morning.

He wondered whether it would be taken the wrong way if he offered Tom
a massage.

His thoughts were interrupted by his entry chime.

"Come in," he called softly, regretting his "open door" policy since
he really didn't feel up to counselling anyone right now.

The door slid open to reveal Tom Paris bearing a tray and wearing a
beaming, open smile.

"Neelix said you didn't go to the Mess this morning, and I figured
you probably hadn't replicated yourself anything, so I decided to
bring breakfast to you," Tom said cheerfully, dropping the tray on
the table and folding himself elegantly into the seat opposite,
although he gave a visible wince as his ass met the chair.

Unable to conceal his own bright smile of relief at Tom's
cheerfulness, Chakotay reached eagerly for his coffee.

"Thanks, Tom. You're a lifesaver. I can't think of anything nicer
than breakfast delivered in my office by the man I love."

Tom blushed prettily.

"Well, I think delivering breakfast in bed to you would have been
nicer," he muttered bashfully.

Chakotay groaned at the truth of Tom's words.

"About last night, Tom. I know you slept with Harry and it's my fault
you're feeling so sore," Chakotay apologised.

Tom turned an interesting shade of scarlet.

"You know? Oh shit, I can explain, honest, just give me a chance,
okay?" he garbled desperately.

"Look, there's nothing to explain, Tom. I know you were confused and
needed a friend. I'm rather concerned that you spent the night
though. You're far too tall to sleep on a couch. It's no wonder you
are feeling stiff this morning."

Tom felt suddenly dizzy. He didn't know what the hell was going on
here. Was Chakotay playing with his head or was he really that
fucking naïve? He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore. Every
time he thought he was back in control of the game, Chakotay changed
the rules again.

"What are you doing here anyway, Tom?" Chakotay asked
suddenly. "Aren't you supposed to be on the bridge?"
"Yeah," Tom muttered, suddenly wondering whether his brilliant plan
had been such a good idea after all. He had intended to come in here,
sweep Chakotay off his feet and hopefully convince him to fuck him
over his desk. Instead, he was beginning to feel like a naughty
schoolboy or something and he had a horrible feeling that the only
reason Chakotay would want to fold him over his desk would be to
spank his ass.

"So?" Chakotay asked.

"I, um, I told the Captain that I needed some counselling," Tom

Chakotay narrowed his eyes in thought, then chuckled. Obviously
Kathryn had seen through his own request to be relieved bridge duty,
and in her new self-appointed role as Cupid, she had agreed to let
Tom come to see him.

"Well, you probably do need some counselling, Tom. But there's
nothing I can do about it, under the circumstances, since I seem to
be most of your problem," Chakotay said guiltily.

"You're not mad then?" Tom asked nervously.

"Only if being in love is considered madness," Chakotay replied,
deliberately misunderstanding Tom's question.

Tom gave a relieved bark of laughter before his face became serious
and he gave Chakotay a sideways glance over the lip of his own coffee

"What did you want to talk to me about, Tom?" Chakotay asked quietly.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Tom answered solemnly.

"Thank you for what, exactly?" Chakotay asked in bemusement.

"For sending me home last night. I mean, I was pretty mad at you at
the time, but I thought about it last night, and realised *why* you
did it, so thanks," Tom muttered.

"I wasn't sure you had thought everything through properly, Tom,"
Chakotay explained. "I didn't want you to do anything you'd regret."

"Yeah, you're right. I would have regretted it," Tom replied, hiding
his satisfaction when Chakotay blanched at his words. He paused just
long enough to make Chakotay squirm a little, just a taste of
payback, then he let him off the hook again.

"Because I don't want to sleep with you unless you trust me,
Chakotay. I know our views on sex aren't the same, but like you said
last night, you and me, well it's different, isn't it? It's not about
fucking, it's about making love. So I thought about it a lot last
night and I decided you're right.
"So I've come here to ask you whether you would please make love to
me," Tom finished.

"Now?" Chakotay squeaked.

Although that *had* been Tom's original plan, he reluctantly shook
his head. The edges of Chakotay's desk looked far too sharp in real
life, his hips would never recover from the experience, he decided.

"I thought that maybe you'd come to my place for dinner tonight," he
said bashfully, quickly deciding that Harry owed him the cost of a
decent meal.

"I'd be honoured, Tom," Chakotay replied.

Tom smiled radiantly and stood up.

"Do you want me to bring anything?" Chakotay asked, grinning like a

Tom paused at the doorway, turned his head cheekily and drawled,

"Yeah. Lots of lube."

And, with a wink, he was gone.