Summary:  C/P, 1/1.  Response to the "jammies" challenge on Cha_Club and CPSG.  Tom develops what could be an obsession.
Author's note: This is a "variation on a theme" of mine.
Copyright November 2001 Cassatt

He wasn't exactly obsessing, not exactly. He'd actually be hard pressed to describe his state of mind. Currently, this night, while gamma shift was just getting up and preparing for work, he was tossing in bed. And turning. And sighing. And exhaling loudly. But not obsessing. He'd just been thinking about it so intensely that he hadn't gotten much sleep for about a week. Just a week. Not that long.

"Damn you, Greg," he muttered to the ceiling. His good friend. Ha. Some friend, telling him something like that. He debated calling Ayala, after all, it was only 2306 hours. Just to give him some shit, just to disturb him. Like he was. But then he'd disturb Harry, too, and he knew the two of them hadn't been able to spend much time together lately. With the away mission and all, Harry being gone for days. They were probably going at it right at that very moment. Hard. Passionate. Damn!!

He got out of bed. "Okay, Tommy, it's time to either come up with a plan, or let it go. Or get a sleeping aid from the Doc." He stalked into his living area. "Come up with a plan." The other two things were not even possibilities. There was no way he was going to let this go, he hadn't yet, and it was only getting worse.

Beam himself in there? Maybe. Beam the man to a holodeck simulation of his quarters? He'd notice. Cause a red alert klaxon to only go off in those quarters? Tom would end up in the brig for sure.

He sat at the console and decided to try to hack into the man's replicator records. After all, if there weren't that many Starfleet issue sleepwear items being replicated by him, then one could assume what Greg said was actually true. Commander Chakotay slept in the nude. No pajamas covered his delectable ass. All night long. Just acres of bronze skin... "Stop it, Tom!" He yelled at himself loudly, and was grateful his neighbors couldn't hear him.

After going to his own replicator, making himself a beer, he settled back at the console. It didn't take him that long, maybe twenty minutes, before he was in. He ignored the reams of food information, though in passing he noted a large amount of a certain tea blend. Replicated almost daily. He filed that away in his memory bank, just in case he ever had the chance to offer the man a cup. But there was the crucial data. Clothing. He couldn't believe it. He double checked it. Sure enough, in four years, the commander had only replicated a piece of sleepwear, either top or bottom, twice. Tom's heart leapt into his throat. The man clearly only used his regulation sleepwear on away missions. Time for a second plan of action.

Tom attached his combadge and programmed the computer to do a site-to-site with a return on command. He took a deep breath, hit the interface and after a moment's disorientation appeared in the commander's living area. Thankful one more time for the biosignature aspect of the computer's data, he was not unpleasantly surprised by an awake Chakotay relaxing on the couch. The soft orange glow of the night lights in the bedroom and the sound of light snoring were the only things to greet him.

He tiptoed toward his destination, slipped around the door jamb, and dropped to the floor, sitting against the wall near the foot of Chakotay's bed. Drawing his knees to his chest, he tried to breathe normally, finally looking at the sleeping man.

Chakotay was on his stomach, facing in Tom's direction, uncovered to the waist. He stared at the strong back, as muscular as he'd always imagined, but different somehow. Seeing him in one layer of tight clothing hadn't prepared him for how he looked with nothing on. He wondered if Chakotay's skin would feel as warm as it appeared, should he touch him. What the smooth skin would be reminiscent of. Satin? Silk? Hot buttered rum?

He gazed, he dreamed, he felt only a modicum of guilt for what he was doing. Besides breaking a number of Starfleet regulations, he was intruding upon the man he was loathe to hurt in any way. Still, he couldn't move. And as he sat in the quietude, what started as a lust-induced mission turned into something quite different. He felt some sort of strange peace descend upon his soul, sitting there, only watching.

Chakotay stirred and kicked off some of his covers. One leg bent back on top of the sheets. One very naked leg, visible up to mid-thigh. Tom almost gasped at the sight. It really was true. His lust rose to the surface again, yet, he did nothing about it. Just continued to sit and watch the man sleep.

Tom woke with a start, his head bent at an unnatural angle. Shit. He had no idea how long he'd dozed for. He tried to get his neck to straighten back up. It hurt like hell. After tentatively moving his arms and legs to waken further, he fell to his hands and knees and crawled out of the bedroom. He stood and tapped his combadge. When he materialized in his own quarters, he prepared for bed, took a pain suppresser and fell into a deep sleep with visions of a calm, peaceful, warm room and the sounds of light snoring in his ear.

On the bridge the following day, he could barely meet his First Officer's dark brown eyes. Did the man know what was in Tom's head? He didn't want to give him the chance to see. Unfortunately, he seemed to come to the helm more often than usual. More often than necessary, in Tom's opinion. Having a superior officer continually checking minor course corrections would normally piss him off in the most intense way. However, he didn't have the luxury of that emotion, because each time Chakotay stood next to him, he could only feel one thing. Extreme, hand sweating nervousness.

Just before lunch, he was rolling his neck, trying to work out the muscle ache from the night before. He was ruing his lack of foresight, not taking another pain suppresser before shift.

"Is your neck bothering you," Chakotay said quietly, right next to him.

Tom almost jumped out of his seat. How had he missed his approach? "Just a little stiff, that's all," he choked out.

"Massage can take care of that."

Yeah, and what I wouldn't give for you to give me one. "Thanks, I'll talk to the Doc about it." He finally turned and looked directly at the man. Chakotay appeared to almost say something, but merely nodded and returned to his command chair. Tom breathed again.

At lunch, the commander sat on the other side of the mess hall, facing Tom and his friends. Though he tried to concentrate on the conversation at his table, each time he raised his head he caught Chakotay watching him. The older man wasn't as quick to drop his gaze as Tom, on the contrary, he didn't seem in any hurry at all to break the eye contact. This did not help calm Tom's nerves. Not in the least.

The afternoon was a repeat of the morning. Tom got a reprieve only when the captain and the commander retreated to her ready room for an hour long conference. And dinner was a repeat of lunch. By the end of the meal, Tom begged off any further company and went to his quarters to spend some time completely alone before he went to bed.

But an hour of tossing and turning, for one more night, drove Tom back out of it again. He paced around his quarters, trying desperately to stay away from his console, the ship's computer and his combadge. The temptation was overwhelming. It was more than doing something clandestine and slightly voyeuristic. He felt a need to be in Chakotay's presence, without the barrier of rank, or position, or task. Just to see him sleeping peacefully, that would be enough.

After ten more minutes of justification, he was sitting at the console, one finger hovering over the interface. He tapped it.

This night the object of his lust was sleeping on his side, holding the extra pillow to his chest. Tom spent some minutes dreaming of being that pillow, wondering why the man needed to sleep like this. Was there someone he was wishing for? Missing? Desiring? Someone he wanted to share his bed with? Did he get that choice, like the rest of them did? He was the First Officer and had to keep himself somewhat removed from everyone, socially. Somewhat. That seemed unbearably sad to Tom.

So he thought about all the times he'd seen Chakotay let himself go, and enjoy himself with his few friends. Those times when even the two of them had had fun together, the times that were indelibly etched in Tom's mind, never to be forgotten. Unmentionable moments of bliss. Dimples making their appearance in his presence.

He sat, and watched, and listened. Once again, he dozed then woke suddenly, fearful of being discovered, neck hurting even more as he crawled out of the room as quietly as he could. It was with relief that he tapped his combadge and returned to his quarters.

The general mood on the bridge the next day was tense. Tom couldn't put his finger on what the problem was, but with his back to everyone he could only pick up things from sounds and the waves of emotion that moved throughout the space. The commander again was at his side about three times an hour, but for some reason, it didn't bother Tom as much. He still could barely meet the man's eyes, for fear that Chakotay would see his guilt, but having him near no longer gave him the willies.

"How's that neck?" Chakotay asked during one of his course correction visits. He was studying the conn.

"A little worse today," Tom answered, surprised at himself for being honest.

"Would you like a replacement so you can go to sick bay?"

Tom looked at him. He could not, for the life of him, tell what the man was thinking. Was he being sarcastic? Sincere? Judgmental? "No, I'll be fine, sir."

Chakotay returned to his apparently fascinating study of the conn. "Tom..."

Tom waited for the rest. When nothing was forthcoming he answered.

But the commander just shook his head. "Never mind. Take care of your neck," he said before going back to sit. Tom resisted the urge to turn around.

Pacing his bedroom rather than his living area, Tom tried to forget his day. In between getting stared at in the mess hall by the darkest eyes on the ship, he'd had to sit and listen to the captain sigh her way across the bridge, numerous times. She even tried to pick an argument with Chakotay at one point, but he diffused it quickly and worked to get her talking about something, anything, innocuous. Tuvok tried as well, but the captain went for a walk instead. Tom hated quiet areas of space as much as the next person, but he really wasn't in any shape to take on some dire force for evil that seemed to be in their path more often than not. His nerves were raw from lack of sleep, and guilt. Weirdly, to him, they seemed to calm down when the commander came around. Not when the man was staring at him, however. There was something about that experience that was totally unnerving.

He made his way to his console. He wasn't obsessed. Not exactly. He wondered if he was beyond obsession, if he'd become addicted. He tapped the interface.

Tonight Chakotay was on his stomach, again, barely covered. But breathing deeply, his back rising and falling rhythmically. Tom's lust returned in full force as he longed to climb up on the bed and kiss that black hair until the man woke up. Run his hands up and down that back, those shoulders, pull the sheet off and gaze at him. Just gaze at him. Just lie with him. Just be with him. He leaned back against the wall and hugged his knees, letting his heartbeat slow down and the peace of the room settle around him like a warm blanket.

Chakotay stirred and rolled to the side, facing him. "Tom..." he called quietly.

His heart stopped completely, ice settling in his chest. Shit, fuck, damn.

Chakotay patted the mattress. "Come on, Tom... can't keep sleeping like that. Come 'ere."

He wasn't sure his legs would hold him, but he managed to stand and approach the side of the bed. Still no words would form.

Chakotay propped himself on an elbow and gave him a soft smile. He repeated the patting motion. "Lie down. It's what we both want," he said, so calmly, so surely.

In a daze, Tom did. He sat on the warm mattress, and, holding eye contact, lay down on his back next to Chakotay, his heart beating rapidly again, his desire threatening to make him do something stupid. The scent of the man, so close, was heady. He didn't move.

Then Chakotay touched him, placing a hand gently on his chest and running his fingers through the blond curls there, and Tom sighed. He couldn't help himself. "This is what you want, isn't it, Tom?" Chakotay said quietly. "I'm not misreading the last few nights, am I? Can you say something?"

The sincerity in his voice touched Tom as deeply as the tactile sensations flying across his chest did. The fingers were still roaming, from his neck down to his belly. The warmth of the touch, the electricity of the contact, the hardening in his groin were making his brain short-circuit. In desperation, he stopped Chakotay's hand. "I don't know," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Don't know if I can say something. But," he proceeded quickly, seeing the man hovering over him begin to withdraw, "yes, you've read things right."

The smile he saw, complete with dimples, was another of those unmentionable moments of bliss that Tom would remember for the rest of his life. His breath caught in his throat. Chakotay hovered for merely a instant, then kissed him softly, for just another instant until Tom parted his lips, wanting more. He was taken by a plunging tongue and a deep moan, possessed, thoroughly, claimed and branded for good.

Chakotay started to roll onto him when he made a strangled noise and pulled back sharply, looking down at Tom's hip. "What the hell... your combadge?" He pulled it off of Tom's regulation drawstring sleepwear bottoms. "You do know this is against regs, it's supposed to be on a shirt," he said with a grin. "Speaking of which, why are you without a top?"

Tom grinned, too. "Well, to tell you the truth, I hate pajamas. Never wear the things, so this was my personal compromise. No one was supposed to see me..."

"You sleep in the nude?" Chakotay stretched and placed the combadge on the ledge behind their heads.

Tom looked down for the first time and saw a fully aroused, bronze body next to him and nearly choked. Oh God, it was much better than his imaginings.

"Tom? You sleep in the nude?" Chakotay repeated, taking the ends of the drawstrings and untying the bow, then loosening the waistband, the backs of his fingers lightly brushing Tom's erection. Choking was becoming near swooning.

"Um, yeah," he squeaked. "Yeah, I do."

"Spirits," Chakotay answered, pulling Tom's sleepwear bottoms down, "that's something for a man to obsessively fantasize about. You, in bed, alone, naked, every night..." Tom lifted his hips and his pajamas were pulled off and tossed somewhere. Then Chakotay finally rolled completely onto him and he did swoon, with a loud, deep groan.

"You...," he managed to say just before soft lips recaptured his, "you could obsessively fantasize about me? Given the right, um, mental picture?"

Chakotay rocked his pelvis against Tom's, their erections rubbing together, their breathing becoming labored. "Yes, given the right... picture..."

"Well, the alone part of that ..."

Chakotay kissed him then, so deeply that Tom's body lit up and, again, his brain stopped working. He was being kissed into the next quadrant by a very real man, with very warm skin. But Chakotay pulled away. "From now on, Tom, you won't be alone."

He knew it was the truth. He'd lie with this man, in the orange glow, in the peace, and sleep with the sound of soft snoring in his ear and strong arms surrounding him. After. He smiled into dark brown eyes and pulled their mouths back together. After.
 
 

End.

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