Summary:  C/P, A/K,  KT's CPSG "Halloween" challenge.  Part Nine:  Commitments.
Copyright October 2001 Cassatt

His cabin was still packed away in cases when Neelix was able to see, think and hear again. The noises of the ship were not as loud as they normally were. He wondered why. He was still sitting, and could still feel the pressure of something on his forehead and cheeks. He tried to touch what was holding him but nothing was there.

Standing, then walking around the cabin in an effort to release some of the edgy energy he felt, he looked into each storage container. After checking to be sure his pots and pans were going with him he turned back to the center of the cabin where he had been sitting.

"Mr. Neelix," Tuvok said, visible for the first time.

"Mr. Tuvok, what are you doing here? I thought you were on the bridge."

"I will be going off-ship. Captain's orders."

Neelix felt supremely confused. More so when he looked into Tuvok's eyes. He saw fear.

Greg played the final card in his hand and won the trick. "I think that's sixty-six points for me. And you know what that means," he said with a small grin.

Harry wasn't sure whether he felt pleased or nervous. Perhaps a bit of both, he concluded. "That means that you won this game."

Greg's grin broadened. "Exactly. The protector is due something from the holder of information." He bent over, took off his shoes and socks and lifted his feet up onto the couch.

Harry looked at the bare feet and then at his friend. "This is what you want from me?"

"My feet hurt."

"Okay," Harry said, feeling less nervous now. He lifted both feet and moved closer, laying the feet on his thighs. Picking one up and beginning to massage, he was struck by the sensuality of the act. The nervousness returned. He glanced at Greg and was caught by his dark eyes.

"I'll want something different if I win the next hand," Greg said quietly.

Harry's heart began to beat noticeably. He rubbed the foot and considered whether or not he could throw the hand deliberately. He wondered if Greg would notice if he did.

The lamps were lit to their fullest, casting a warm glow over both men. Chakotay's skin looked like burnished gold to Tom, gazing up as his lover loomed over him. He loved the feel of it, the smoothness, the warmth, how the softness contrasted with the strength of the muscles. If he ever got tired of touching him, he figured by then he'd have to be dead. Chakotay's face blurred as he fell on Tom's mouth, kissing him deeply, so deeply he imagined they were permanently fused together, lips to lips, tongue to tongue. He was continually surprised that this man tasted so damned good, in every way possible. It was in these moments, when Tom could taste the essence of Chakotay, that he understood the meaning of fate, and destiny. He knew that nothing could ever compare to this, no one else's soul could be discerned from the simple taste buds on his tongue. Only Chakotay's.

The man pulled back enough to move off his mouth and Tom felt the loss keenly. No, don't go... he wanted to say, even as his lover took those wondrous lips of his down his chin, then to his neck, and down further. Tom's heightened senses almost overloaded, from Chakotay's hands, his chest, his legs, his erection, his lips, all touching him, stroking him, sending him somewhere new, and familiar. He let himself be taken there - where his lover wanted, this time. He gave up control freely, willingly, lovingly. It would be his turn to take Chakotay again. And again and again.

Chakotay looked down on the face of the man he loved more than anyone he'd loved before. Saw the golden hued skin, normally so beautifully pink, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, the scent of which drove him completely mad with desire. He saw the sparkling, half-lidded dark blue eyes, the lips slightly kiss-swollen, and parted. He wondered, in that brief moment before he took those lips again, whether Tom looked beautiful because Chakotay loved him, or because Tom was in love. He dropped his head and kissed him, deeply, succumbing, knowing it didn't matter which was true. Both were true. They were true. He roamed around inside Tom's mouth, letting the taste of them send his desire spiraling slowly, incrementally, upward. Writhing gently with Tom, his skin burned where they touched, and the friction from their erections rubbing together was, without a doubt, one of life's exquisite pleasures.

He moved off Tom's mouth, wanting to taste more of him, to take this as slowly as he possibly could. Which would be a supreme act of control on his part, he needed to be inside Tom almost desperately. He buried his face in Tom's chest hairs, zeroing in on his nipple, hearing the moans his actions elicited, feeling his heart leap in response. Trailing his hand down Tom's side, stroking his soft skin, further down to his upper thigh, lightly caressing between his legs, he caught Tom's quiver as he bucked against Chakotay's stomach.

"Chak...," Tom whispered.

He dragged himself up Tom's chest, kissing and licking his neck along the way, finally meeting those intense eyes of his. He was unable to control himself and took Tom's mouth in a penetrating kiss. Tom's hands were all over him now, and the sounds coming from both of them only made them press into each other more and more. Pulling back, he barely heard Tom repeating his plea.

"What, Tom," he said, panting, kissing the cheek below his mouth.

"Love you..."

He smiled. "I love you, too." He began to thrust his pelvis, and Tom immediately joined him. They both groaned from somewhere deep in their chests.

"Chak..."

"What, Tom."

"Please... I can't wait... don't wanna wait... take me... please..."

Whatever small semblance of self-control he had left disappeared. He heard a growl and realized it came from him. He captured Tom's mouth again, harder this time, felt Tom's hands kneading his back, pulling them closer together and had to tear himself away before they both came too soon. He reached for the lube and popped the top.

The one thing that Tuvok knew was that he was being put off ship and he didn't want to go. Desperately didn't want to go. He couldn't remember why he was in Mr. Neelix's quarters on Voyager, but he felt happy to be there. The captain had ordered them both off the ship, at the next M-class planet they found he would be transported to the surface, to spend the rest of his days there. Alone. His chest hurt when he thought about it and tendrils of panic began to weave through his mind.

"Mr. Neelix," he called to the man who was wandering around the room.

"Yes, Mr. Tuvok?"

"Why are you being put off-ship?"

Neelix stopped his wandering. After a minute's silent contemplation, he met Tuvok's eyes. "I don't know."

"I don't know why I am, either." He had a moment of understanding that he should try and find out, that it might be important, but as fleetingly as the thought had appeared in his mind, it was gone again and he remembered nothing of it.

Neelix slowly approached him, falling to the floor in a heap. "I don't want to go," he said quietly.

"I don't either, Mr. Neelix," Tuvok said just as quietly. He felt so sad, he thought he might die of it.

"Sixty-six," Greg said again. This was the third game he'd won and this time he was almost positive Harry had deliberately tried to throw the hand. Not that he could, actually, given the nature of the play. But he took the gesture for what it was. Harry was pushing him, wanting Greg to be the one to say it, the one to do the pursuing. He smiled at the man.

Harry smiled in return. "So what do you want me to give this time?" he said.

"Well, the foot massage was terrific, and the hand massage even better. But this time I want something even more valuable."

"Valuable meaning more personal, if I'm getting this right?"

Greg knew Harry had gotten the gist of this game earlier. He took a modicum of pity on his friend. "Yes, more personal. But don't worry, it's simple. Nothing extreme. At least I hope it's not."

Harry's eyes locked with his. "Okay."

"I need a question answered."

"Okay," Harry repeated.

"Would you be offended if I tried to kiss you?" For all of Greg's bravery, his heart had begun a dull thudding in his chest as he spoke. The sensation of fear confused him, he'd always felt sure of himself in matters of the heart, or libido.

Harry blushed. "No, I wouldn't be offended."

Greg grinned. "Good. Thank you." He gathered the cards together and shuffled them.

"That's it?" Harry said, somewhat sharply.

"Yes, that's it. You answered my question."

Harry snorted and tried to grab the cards from Greg's hand. They tussled over them for a minute. Greg finally relented, bringing out a grin on Harry's face that matched his own. "I'm dealing this time," Harry said. "Prepare to lose, Lieutenant."

"Hey, that's protector to you. Ensign."

"Ooo, below the belt, Gregory. Just wait." Harry dealt the cards with a flourish.

If Greg were honest with himself, he'd thoroughly enjoyed spurring Harry into action. Not that he felt out of control from it, not in the least. He picked up his cards and contemplated whether it truly was impossible to throw a hand.

Chakotay removed his fingers slowly from Tom's stretched passage, sucking on his neck, feeling his lover shudder, hearing him make some indistinguishable noise when he was finally empty. He coated his aching erection with the remains of the lubricant, fighting for some restraint when all his instincts were screaming at him to plunge straight into Tom and fuck him senseless. He moved into position as Tom lifted his feet up onto Chakotay's shoulders. Their eyes locked.

"Do it, Chak, take me," Tom cried softly.

He thrust, feeling the heat and tightness surround him. Spirits, sweet spirits... How had he ever thought he could do without this? Tom moaned and so did he. He pushed once more, sliding all the way in, then shifted slightly and kissed Tom, deeply, so deeply. Merging together. One. Again.

"I love you, Tom," he said into his mouth.

"Oh God, Chakotay... I love you..."

The boy-child, perched on the dresser, watched the two men moving on the bed. His friends. His saviors. He juggled three balls of light, spheres that followed no law of gravity as they were tossed in the air. They floated back down to the small hands awaiting them. He repeated this rhythmic action, cocking his head from side to side in time with it. He could see the illumination coalesce around the two men, pushing aside the darkness that was beginning to gather from the corners of the room. Saying silent prayers, keeping himself unseen, he juggled the light of his world.

Tom dropped his feet down to wrap his legs around Chakotay and their mouths met again. Lips pushed, tongues plunged, and tasted. Chakotay thrust in a now familiar rhythm, giving his lover every bit of pleasure he knew how to give. He was lost in sensation, in Tom, in them together, wondering again why he thought they could only be bad for him. His life had taken him on a direct course to this planet, this room, this bed, this man. He knew it. You're mine, Tom, I'm yours...

They moved together, in and out, their bodies in sync, their minds quiet, their souls touching. Their climaxes approaching surrounded them with a haze of heat, and lust. Their movements were now completely instinctual - as though they were long time lovers, they knew what to touch, and when, and how. Drifting off the bed, they felt only the tingle beginning in their toes, upward to their groins, and deep inside where they were joined it intensified, concentrated, becoming the entire focus of their awareness. Thrusting, spiraling, up and up they floated, only wanting to be there together.

Their movements slowed. They were close, amazingly close to the edge. They knew it, could taste it in each other. Were unable to stop it. Chakotay stroked Tom slowly one more time and he came with a cry that was swallowed by a hot mouth covering his, bucking, contracting, and spurting with force. The contractions pulled Chakotay over the edge and thrusting hard he came, tearing his mouth off Tom's as a primal noise exploded from this throat. They shuddered together, as waves of release followed, sweat from both pooling on Tom's stomach, mixing with the threads of semen there. Chakotay collapsed as Tom pulled him close with arms and legs, holding him tightly, neither man having the least desire to move again. Their hearts and breathing eventually calmed.

"...love you...," Chakotay mumbled against Tom's neck, languidly licking the salt off his lover.

Tom squeezed him even more tightly. "...thank you... love you..."

Sleep claimed them.

The boy-child came to the side of the bed, still juggling. The spheres were tossed, but when they landed they merged together, one by one. Now holding one ball of light, he said another silent prayer and opened his hands over them. The ball floated up and, once again, dissipated, golden bits of illumination falling on them like soft rain. He disappeared.

Awareness of something tickled Chakotay's consciousness, but all he sensed as he came to was the warmth of Tom under him, the wondrous smell of his neck permeating his nostrils. He thought he should move off and rolled, but Tom refused to let him go and followed the roll. Still sleeping, he snuggled across Chakotay's chest. He reached to the bedside table, grabbed the towel and attempted to clean them both off, but gave up after just a minute. He dropped the towel on the floor. His eyelids falling, holding his precious gift tightly, Chakotay drifted back to sleep.

Neelix sat up quickly and reached for Tuvok's arm. "Mr. Tuvok, you could come with me, we could be together!" He wondered why the idea hadn't occurred to him sooner.

Tuvok looked at him blankly.

"Talk to the captain, she'll listen to you, she always listens to you," Neelix continued excitedly.

Tuvok just shook his head.

"Please, just talk to her. Come with me, it wouldn't be so bad, then. The two of us. Not bad. Not bad at all..."

Tuvok didn't respond.

Neelix's panic returned. "Please, Mr. Tuvok. Please!" He began to shake the Vulcan.

Harry threw another card down and took the trick. He looked at what remained of his hand and realized he really could win this one.

"Should I be worried now?" Greg said, giving him a very small grin.

Harry chose a card and deliberately put it on the couch cushion between them. He saw with delight the look in his opponent's eyes. "Perhaps you should," Harry said seriously.

Greg made a show of studying his hand, shuffling the three remaining cards around. "What are you going to ask of me if you win?" He played a card and Harry took that trick, too.

"I don't think I need to tell you. It's bad luck." Harry put his next card down, smiling.

"Hm-m, never heard that rule before...," Greg said, not looking at him. "In fact, I don't believe that is a rule in this version of the game, and since I made them up, I should know." He placed his answering card down and Harry took it. "So what are you going to want?"

Harry looked at his last card and his heart began to flutter. He laid it down slowly and stared intently at Greg, who finally met his eyes.

Without breaking the eye lock, Greg put his card down.

Harry scooped them both up and added them to his bounty. "I win," he said quietly.

"I lose."

The sound of his heartbeat was so loud now, Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to hear himself talk. "Would you be offended if I kissed you?"

Greg tipped his head slightly to the side. "Are you trying for revenge or will there be some action to back that question up?"

"You lost. Answer the question."

"Fair enough. Okay. No, I wouldn't be offended."

Harry got his knees under him and leaned forward, using the back of the couch for leverage. "You note I didn't use the word 'try', Greg." He put one hand on Greg's shoulder and leaned further.

"Yes, Harry, I did notice that. Very assertive of you..," Greg said softly.

Harry's mouth was now inches away. "And here I thought you were the big, bad Maquis, rebel, freedom fighter, scourge of the Carda...sumph..." Greg kissed him, getting a hand behind Harry's head and pulling them together, moving his lips over Harry's persuasively, firmly, seductively. His stomach took a dive for his feet. He could feel himself hardening rapidly. He pulled away and looked into Greg's eyes, as dark as his own.

"What...," Greg said.

He didn't exactly have an answer. His heart was hammering. A war was raging inside of him. He wanted to keep going, but now that it was happening, he was afraid. This was his friend. He trusted him. "I, I was supposed to kiss you."

Greg smiled. He put his hands up in surrender. "No hands. I'm all yours..."

Harry's breath caught in his throat hearing those words. Damn, I want him... He launched himself at the man, kissing him hard, years and years of pent-up feelings pouring out of him. The force of his move carried them both against the arm of the couch, leaving Greg pinned under him. Their kisses were escalating in intensity when suddenly Greg pushed him off and scrambled to his feet, breathing rapidly.

It was Harry's turn to express confusion.

"I'm sorry, Harry, it's not... you, I... I just... have to go...," Greg stammered. He turned and fled the room.

Harry jumped up and followed. Go where?

Neelix felt like he was crawling the walls. The pressure on his temples was driving him crazy. He kept brushing his hands there, thinking he could just swat away whatever it was that continued to plague him, but it was useless. And Mr. Tuvok wouldn't talk. He was desperate for the man to go with him, he'd do anything, for anyone, if only he didn't have to spend the rest of his life alone. He wanted to scream.

"Mr. Tuvok," he said, trying to get through to the man who was staring off into space.

No response.

He lost it again, taking his arm and shaking him harshly. "Mr. Tuvok, answer me!"

Tuvok focused on him and Neelix watched with horror as the Vulcan's face crumpled and tears began to fall down his cheeks. "Don't you understand," he yelled, "she won't listen to me, she's sending me away for good!" He tried to say something else, but the words were unintelligible.

"No, Mr. Tuvok, no...," Neelix said, panic overwhelming him.

"I can't... can't... can't do it..." Tuvok brought his knees to his chest and held them tightly, rocking back and forth, crying.

Harry followed Greg up to their room, calling him as they trotted five meters apart. Greg didn't answer. By the time Harry went through the heavy wooden door, Greg was already closing the one to the bathroom, firmly, decisively. He decided that wasn't going to deter him, however. He knocked softly on the door. Greg didn't answer. Harry heard nothing, no running water, no flushing toilet, nothing but footsteps.

"Greg, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here. Whenever you're ready to talk." He retreated and sat on the bed, scooting back to rest against the headboard, his eyes firmly set on the bathroom door. He was kicking himself. Trusting that his commanding officer understood Greg better than anyone, he should have followed his lead and pressed the man to talk about what had happened in what they were all calling the nothingness. He had no idea if that was the reason Greg had acted the way he had, but he sort of hoped it was. Nice, Harry, real nice. He just didn't want to think that somehow he'd caused the man to bolt.

He hated the thought that Greg might have found out he'd never actually had a complete sexual experience with a man. He'd wanted to tell him face to face. Whatever was happening between the two of them, Harry understood clearly it was something that had the potential for being truly exceptional. He didn't want to mess it up before it had even started.

Sighing, he tried to relax. He got up briefly to close the door to the hallway, returning to sit on the bed after taking off his boots. Greg, please come out now. He chuckled at his own private joke. Looking around the room, he began to see things as Tom did. The low light could be sort of nice, the lounge had certainly been comfortable. This room wasn't really so bad, just a little chilly. Chillier than other parts of the building. He pulled the quilt up over his legs and slowly felt his eyelids drooping, exhaustion from the day's ordeal finally hitting him. He let himself remember the feel of Greg's kisses as he slipped into sleep.

Greg stopped his pacing long enough to put his ear to the doorway. He heard the other door close, then the sound of the bed creaking. Letting his forehead rest against the wood he closed his eyes. Shit. What was Harry thinking of him now? Some protector. Fucking shit. He'd totally and completely screwed this up. After a few more minutes of self-flagellation, he stopped it. He steeled himself and opened the door. The sight before him caused his carefully erected defenses to disappear.

He walked to the bed, toed off his boots and pulled the quilt back. Climbing in next to Harry, fatigue beginning to overwhelm him, he very gently prodded the sleeping man.

"...huh...," Harry mumbled.

"Come on, Har, get down here," he said, pulling on his arm.

Harry's eyes half-opened as he let himself be settled on Greg's chest. Greg sighed and wrapped him in an embrace.

"...need to talk...," Harry said.

"Later..."

"...'kay."

Greg sighed even more deeply when Harry pulled himself tightly to him. He could feel the man was asleep again. He left himself drift off after vowing he'd do what he could to make it up to him.

Some hours later, Voyager's computer sent a prearranged message to Commander Chakotay. "Voyager to Commander Chakotay, Voyager to Commander Chakotay, Voyager..."

Chakotay awoke with the practiced skill of the ship's second in command. He groped for his combadge as Tom stirred on his chest. He tapped it and stopped the message. Completely awake, he nonetheless allowed himself some time to enjoy the feel of his lover pressed against him, to remember making love with him, to pretend they lived a normal life and this was a morning like normal people enjoyed, on normal planets, not the middle of the night on the edge of the galaxy. Yes, Father, I know, I'm the one who wanted to see the stars.

"Was that the dulcet tone of the computer...," Tom said sleepily, against his neck.

"Yes, Tom. Good morning." Tom's hands started to roam over Chakotay's body, causing a stir in his groin. He groaned to himself. They didn't have the time, though he dearly wished they did.

"It's not morning." Tom kissed the skin under his mouth repeatedly.

Chakotay groaned out loud this time. "We've got to get up either way." His own hands began an exploration of Tom's back but he stopped them almost immediately.

Tom stopped what he was doing as well, and lifted his head, rubbing his eyes. "It's time."

"Yes, it is. I'll go start the bath."

"Chak?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." He reached up and pulled Tom's face to his, propping himself on one elbow. They kissed. A slow, soft, mostly chaste kiss. Tom rolled off and they both got up, heading to the bathroom.

After relieving themselves and taking a quick bath, Chakotay checked the time while they shaved.

"I'm hungry, Chak...," Tom said, rinsing his mouth.

"Me, too, but I don't think we have time."

"I can dress in one minute, then run downstairs and grab some fruit and be back in five." Tom grinned at him, a small grin.

"Experience?" Chakotay grinned back at him.

"Well, yeah, alpha shift sometimes starts a little earlier than my schedule allows."

Chakotay laughed out loud and Tom joined him. The release of tension was very welcome. "Okay, Tom, you've got six minutes."

Tom took off, and as Chakotay cleaned his teeth he heard the rustle of fabric, then the door handle, then swearing. He spit and yelled, "On the dresser!"

"Thanks!" The sound of metal scraping, then the door opening and closing followed by silence accompanied the rinsing of his mouth. He studied his reflection in the quietude. He tried to breathe deeply but was only partially successful. Father, I'm nervous. He knew what Kolopak's answer would be. Trust, Son.

He returned to their bedroom and put on his black clothes from earlier, then made the bed, smoothing the quilt meticulously and setting the pillows against the headboard. The door opened suddenly and Tom flew back into the room on bare feet, his face flushed, his grin broad, his eyes sparkling.

"Well? How'd I do?" He handed Chakotay two pieces of fruit and a napkin.

Chakotay smiled deeply, knowing, again, that he could love this man until he died. "You did great, Tom. Great. Thanks." He bit into the sweet flesh, catching the juice running down his chin, wondering if any food in this circumstance would taste this marvelous. Tom washed his hands while Chakotay finished his snack. It wasn't until his own hands were under the water that he realized Tom was pacing. He kicked himself for his self-absorption. He checked the time, they had twenty minutes. Enough.

"Tom, come, sit," he said, walking to the bed and settling himself on it.

Tom followed.

Chakotay took a hand in his, it was slightly cool. He rubbed it, and met Tom's eyes. The blue was clear. "Are you nervous?"

Tom looked away for a moment, then locked gazes again. "A bit, yeah. I know we've gone over everything, but still..."

"Well, aside from the responsibility we seem to have, I just want you to hear, again, that I'm sure this is what's right. For you and me."

"Are you? Really sure?"

"Yes. I know it's soon, and sooner than I would have dared consider this, but yes, I'm sure. Are you having second thoughts?"

Tom exhaled. "God, no, Chakotay. I'm nervous, but, well, I think I'd do anything to be with you. I don't plan on going anywhere until my ashes are scattered," he said quietly. "I love you."

He let go of Tom's hands and took his face instead. They came together and kissed each other intensely, and reverently. He broke the kiss. "I love you, Tom." They shared a smile.

Turning, he opened the drawer in the bedside table. He pulled out his medicine bundle, bringing it in front of them. "Ready?"

Tom nodded. "Ready."

He untied the leather cord and unrolled the bundle, spreading the contents out to their proper positions. He picked up one of the stones, held it in both hands and silently said his usual prayer for clarity. Putting the stone down, he took Tom's hand and placed it on the akoonah, sliding his off to sit adjacent. He glanced at Tom, pleased to see his eyes were already closed and he was slowing his breathing, as Chakotay'd instructed him earlier that day. He followed suit, and finally started the quest.

"Akoochimoyah..."
 
 

On to Part Ten

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