I know, I know - I should be writing part four of 'Angstrom'. I swear, I sat down at the computer last night (15/9/97) to do it, but (thanks to catbrain and too much coffee) this is what came shpeiling out instead. (Frankly, I blame society). It's set just after Caldik Prime, and is a Tom POV hypothetical of what happened when Paris met Chakotay back in his Maquis days.
Oh and, um, I'm not %100 sure if there's a C/P first meeting in the Voyager canon (I don't think there is) but if there is, and I just ignored it, well...
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters, the ship and just about all the fun stuff. **waves to them** Be nice, Paramount-heavies. I'm just, you know, borrowing the boys for a bit. ;-)
The following story is rated NC-17 (yum! yum! finally!) for language and explicit m/m sex. I've been told that it even gets a bit BDSMesque towards the end (though I have to admit **pouts** there's more Paris Angst than raunch. Better luck next time, I guess). If you shouldn't be reading it, don't. Feel free to mail me **said all casual-like** at ctraynor@eisa.net.au with any comments and/or CC...
Oh, and PS. If you're gonna copy any of this or link to it or whatever, that's fine, just drop me a line to let me know, hmmm?

by "!Super Cat"

"...I went out looking for a fight, and found the Maquis..."
Paris to Kim, 'Caretaker - the pilot'

Recorded c. stardate 47954.3


¨÷piece of crap, can you just - hang on, hang on, where's the micron scanner? - Right. Oh- I don't-Shit. Screw this for a *#@#! I mean, you might be a good conversation piece but I've had just about enough of tinkering around with stupid, fucked up, god forsaken-

Well, it's about bloody time. Testing? Testing?

Alright, here goes.

Tom Paris, p- shit. I nearly said 'personal log'.

Tom Paris here, trying to record a journal into the world's crappiest¨÷ well, whatever the hell this thing is. Not a decent recorder, that's for sure.

Got it from a guy over at DS3 (which just goes to show that anyone can get dicked by Ferengi) and have been trying to get it working¨÷ oh yeah, loose meaning of the word 'working'¨÷ ever since.

So. Journal stuff. I'm sitting here waiting for my contact to show and- well, basically I'm wondering what the hell it is about this bar. Guy over at the window has been giving me the eye for the last fifteen minutes. Shit, make that half an hour. Of course, I make it a rule, absolutely, never to do anything with tentacles. That is, I make it a rule to never do weird guys with tentacles.

Said that last pretty loudly, huh?

Yeah, so I shouldn't have - but at least he's looking out the window now and I don't have to keep on pretending like I haven't seen him. Or that I don't know what it is people say about Queegies.


This contact person is never gonna show.

Bored, bored, bored. Right. I refuse to be one of those bar types that looks over at the door about every two seconds - so let's get into some gritty stuff, shall we?

I came in last night to check the bar out. Oh, yeah, details. ¨÷I guess its been a while since I've done any of this log kinda bullshit... The bar's called something like 'Skschrks's' - 'Ssschkrsks's' or 'Chskrssks's'. I'm fucked if I can pronounce it, frankly, but it's the owner's name. Riva's equvalent of 'Joe's', or 'Sandrine's'¨÷

Anyway, I wasn't impressed. I'm still not. In fact, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say it's the- well, the stupidest venue for a clandestine meeting I've ever seen. I mean, its big and round (no pokey corners) and last night there were only three people in it. Tonight- discounting my good friend Skschrks here -there's just me 'n the Queeg. Anything that goes on's gonna stick out like a sore thumb - so I sure hope the Maquis own Sks, the bar and the Queegster otherwise...

Uh, I think there was a Rivan here last night. Maybe a Rivan- she was sitting at the bar. There was also a Human - wrapped around a Bajoran - in the corner. No, scratch that. He didn't look comfortable enough about it, so I'd say the Bajoran was definitely wrapped around him. He noticed me, which was nice (you know how you can tell) and of course I kept glancing over at them. Not that I meant to stare, but when two people are making out in an almost empty room you just kinda- anyway. When the hairs on the back of my neck started prickling, I realised something.

He was looking right at me while he was...

God, I hate blushing. I mean, I hate it - so I looked him up and down in that standard, brazen way (Caught you looking, pal) and then, on a whim, I blew him a little kiss. I'd had a fair bit to drink by this stage of course - not to say I wouldn't have done it anyway - but I got to see him pull away from the Bajoran and stammer something (too soft to overhear, dammit) before I had to look innocently off to avoid the poor woman's glare.

She left at some stage. I missed the exact moment. Stubborn as all hell, I'd turned my attention back to the recorder - couldn't figure why it wasn't receiving - and I was puzzling over it with Skschrks, who was proving himself a hell of a Rivan innkeeper though, lets face it, a lousy back seat micro-processor repairman.

"Cute," said a voice out of nowhere.

I figured it was sarcasm, and a comment on the kiss, but who knows, he might have meant-

"High maintenance," I answered him.

I was looking at him, sure. I wasn't looking at his eyes, though. Still, it wasn't exactly the chattiest response and the last thing I expected him to do was sit down next to me and flick a glance at the Ferengi merchandise I was tinkering with-

He sat down next to me and flicked a glance at the Ferengi merchandise I was tinkering with.

"Can I help any?" he asked.

I gave both him and the thing on the bar another once over. "You could sell me a good recorder," I said. I was feeling pretty narky, to tell the honest truth, and I think it was showing through in my responses. And my gestures. Not that I gave a fuck, really. I took another swig of my drink.

"You don't look like the diary type." It barely registered - my mind was fixated on the tattoo above his right eye. Very wilderness. Very handsome too, though I wouldn't have told him that.

"I'm not," I answered. "But I'm ex-Starfleet. Old habits die hard, I guess."

Funny, that. First time I'd said it.

And of course I got The Look. It's fair enough I suppose. Starfleet attracts a certain type - and those that've got what it takes to get through the Academy tend to be the sort that, well, don't fuck up. Don't fuck up and don't quit and stay in the ranks till they plateau or peak out or, yeah. Stay in the ranks 'till they're a helluva lot older'n me.

This Look was an "I know shit, but I know you're too young to have quit the Fleet" look.

"You're, what- twenty four? Twenty five?" he hazarded, confirming my suspicion. "That's a little young to have-"

"Too young to retire, maybe," I interrupted. No way was I gonna tell this guy about- "Too old to get swindled by the Ferengi. I can't believe I bought this piece of crap."

"Who'd you serve under?"

I gave him a flat look, figuring he was either press, boring, or ex-Fleet himself. "Yeah, lets talk about the USS Federation's jump-suited brigade boys."

He glanced at the recorder again, then quirked a brow at me. "How about - if I can fix that receiver..."

I snorted at the unlikeliness of that outcome. "Yeah?"

"Then you let me choose the topic of conversation."

Well, this is an interesting approach, I thought. Alright lover boy, I'll bite...

"Hmm," I rested my chin in my hands and blinked over at him. The gaze of a lazy challenger, I guess. "Fix the recorder? You're very sure of yourself, Tattoo-man."

"Chakotay," he said. He matched my look with an amused, nut-brown ease. "Deal?"

"Oh, it's a deal," I answered calmly. I didn't move. My gaze didn't waver. "Do your stuff, Chakotay."

He scooped up the recorder, regarded it a moment, then turned it over in his hands. He pressed, poked, fiddled, altered - all with the quiet assurance of a man who knows he's going to win his 'deal'. Blazing arrogance, really. I loved it.

I also loved knowing there was no way he'd be able to get that receiver operational-

The old fashioned LED display flickered into life. He let out a satisfied breath, then held up the blinking recorder with a too-smug expression on his face.

"Working," he said.

"My hero," I answered dryly. Like hell it was working. I hadn't spent days tinkering with the thing without learning a couple of its vicious little idiosyncrasies¨÷

"So I guess we talk about Starfleet." Unbearable. He was gorgeous, but absolutely unbearable.

I almost told him to fuck off. As it was-

I began an internal count-down. ¨÷nine, eight, seven¨÷ When I hit four, I said calmly. "A hundred credits says it'll short out by the time I finish this-" The lights winked out with a little !bzzt. "-sentence."

Chakotay blinked. "So I guess we don't talk about Starfleet."

"In one," I breezed.

He rubbed stubble he didn't have. "I owe you a hundred credits?"

"Sorry Chakotay," I drawled back. "Sometimes life's a real little lady."

He let out a breath of laughter. "That is one screwed up recorder."

"No shit, gorgeous," I said mildly. "If I had a cigar-"

He shifted a little at 'gorgeous'. I hid my smile in my drink.

He ordered a drink of his own - some alien concoction that I'd never heard of - and didn't turn back till he'd drunk it. "You're not half Rivan, are you?"

I nearly choked- But another look at him told me he probably had no idea what he'd just inferred. "You're asking because¨÷?"

"Its just that you've got the jaded bar boy act down-"

I looked away, expecting to turn back to him with one of the standard replies, "It's a talent," maybe. "Fix me the recorder again, why don't you." But his tone surprised me into a snort of laughter.

"Bar boy?" I shook my head, then caught his eye and lifted my chin. "Oh, cute."

Chakotay took it in his stride. I think he even grinned. "Said so when I came over."

"Like hell. Bar boy."

"It suits you."

"I don't think so."

Fuck it. I mean, I always get lumped with the same freaky nicknames. It's like I've got a sign on my head, saying "Hey people, call this guy 'blondie', or 'blue eyes', or 'fly-boy' - no, even better call him 'pretty boy' - that one really, really pisses him off-"

"You could give me another option."

"Oh you want my name now? I don't know Chakotay, I'm asking myself if you've really earned it-"

"Earned," he repeated.

What can I say, I've got a low boredom threshold.

I leaned back in my chair and - feeling strangely wanton - I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze.

"Impress me," I said softly.

Shower of sparks, I swear to God. I didn't even see him move.

He pushed my shoulders back into the seat, then tilted my chin up with a finger. Hard, Christ that isn't the word for it. The jolt went straight to my cock, lodged there. He was just a strange guy in a bar, but at that moment I was wanting him so bad I could-

Christ, I could fucking taste it.

"You want it, pretty boy?"

A neon sign, I'm telling you.

" 'Pretty boy', Chakotay?" I glanced down at his lips. I couldn't help it, we were just too close to kissing. "That the best you can do?"

"Screw you," he growled.

"Yeah, you think you can?" Do it, my pulse was beating. Do it, do it, do it. His breathing had roughened, I noticed, his cheeks had flushed.

I almost choked when he pulled away.

"Spirits." He ran a hand through his hair and stared at me. I felt at least partially vindicated; his pupils were dilated - yeah in retrospect less obviously than mine, I bet; God, blue eyes can be a bitch - and his lips were parted. He looked wild.

He looked aroused.

"I didn't mean-" he was saying, "-that is, I don't¨÷ normally¨÷ do this kind of thing. Really. I'm, it's just that you- you-"

What the fuck??

But it was the perfect opening for a line. "I'm impossible to resist?"

"I'm just saying that I-"


"-something more than just a one time-" He paused. "What?"

"Shut up. Kiss me. Now."

Flash fire, he pulled me right out of the goddamned chair.

I was taller than he was. That I hadn't expected. The other thing I noticed, Skschrks had disappeared. Wonderfully discrete, said my fractured and distracted brain, and what the fuck I was doing I didn't know...

Chakotay tugged my head down - we kissed, oh God. My eyes closed. I wound myself around him, arms tight, feeling muscles shift as we sought out closeness and, oh fuck, friction - I can't do it justice. I- God. I've been kissed in my time, but it's never, ever, been anything like that-

We upset the barstool, ignored it.

I was shaking when we broke apart. I wanted to move away, regain some composure, but Chakotay kept me in the circle of his arms.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. He reached out and trailed his fingers through my hair, smoothing a couple of rogue strands, and he was looking at me like, well like - oh no way I'm going to say anything that cheesy. He was looking at me, period.

Some people just have a thing for blondes, I guess.

"Oh, I don't know, give me a dark eyed brunette-" Hello - I noticed I was saying it aloud. "To kiss in a bar on a green-skyed planet-"

Fuck. A passable description of him, sure it was. It was also a detailed portrait of his Bajoran.

Well. Oops.

It wasn't lost on Chakotay. He pulled back a little and tried to give me a searching look. Note tried. I did a Mr. Oblivious. There was no way in the world that I was going to let a strange guy (who was picking me up in a bar fer chrissakes) get the idea that I was jealous of his girlfriend.

There was no way that I was jealous of his girlfriend.

God, he could kiss though. And that really was the sweetest look on his face.

Shit. I hate sweet.

"¨÷you. Maybe we shouldn't just¨÷" he was saying.

I pushed him up against the bar and wrapped myself round him again. "Yeah, we could do the balcony scene, Chakotay," I murmured, kissing him. Feverish, open mouthed caresses. God, I was going crazy. "We could flirt, and tease, swap numbers - you could buy me flowers, and give me a dippy pet name. Or-" He let out a tiny moan in response. The sound of it, Christ. I was so turned on that I almost took him right there on the bar. "We could just go upstairs, right now¨÷" The heat of his breath was scalding. Our bodies were moving against each other, craving friction, craving intimacy. I breathed the last words over his lips. "¨÷and fuck..."


The bed upstairs was - if you can believe it - round. I think. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details, to be honest. I do know that I'd stripped Chakotay out of his clothes, I'd exposed all his lovely bronzed limbs and his perfect, perfect cock. He'd managed to get me naked from the waist up. We were tangled together, wrestling, kissing; he was gasping something about for all time and I was remembering Caldik Prime, and my Academy entrance exam.

Pretty twisted, huh?

My stomach was in knots.

I'd felt like this going into the exam. Fifteen years old, and I had a father in tow that was making the examiners sweat, crawl, pander, genuflect; Admiral Paris, whose son was going to make it into the Academy. I was the pilot prodigy, after all. I was the blonde, blue eyed aristocratic Paris boy child, confident that he was about to blitz his way into Starfleet's-

Confident. What a fucking joke.

Caldik Prime, and I had, like, this moment of knowing, knowing that the world was about to spin and shift on the basis of one decision-

I slid down over his stomach, nuzzled the joint between hip and leg, and not-so-incidentally his cock. I traced the lean line of a thigh muscle with my tongue - and his whole body quivered in response. And why the fuck was I feeling that same shattering nervous feeling now - like this was something important - when all I was doing was sucking off a stranger in Skschrks's bar¨÷?

Chakotay was moaning and moving helplessly around on the bed. He tangled his fingers in my hair - so tight it hurt - and he started pumping into my mouth. The sound of him, the smell of him was devastating; sobbing, musk, nerves and desire. Christ, what a combination.

He let out a last cry and came in three shuddering spurts. I swallowed quickly and backed off. Fuck. Leave, my mind was pounding. Leave - and leave now.

I was charged, craving, and desperately uneasy. I should have listened to myself.

But, fuck it - "Hey," I whispered, touching my hand to his cheek. "Uh, Chakotay?"


"Okay. Shit." He's breathing, I reassured myself. "Chakotay?"




I hit him with the pillow. "What the fuck did you do? Pass out?!?"

"Hey-" He protested. "No, I just..." Then he pulled himself up onto his elbow, and gave me a shy, delighted little smile. "C'm here, you."

Shit. I ducked my head when he tried to kiss me, and somehow evaded the touch of those lips¨÷ You, he'd said. Yeah, of course he did. The guy didn't know my name yet.

Why the fuck was I here?

"No- I don't-"

"What is it?" Chakotay asked. He knelt and drew me to him. Then, nuzzling my neck, kneeling with me on the bed, he slid his hand down over my crotch and rubbed against the bulge he found there. "Hmm?"

"Ohh, shit. What are you-"

He was undoing my pants.

Big deal, right? Yeah, you'd think. Remember though, that I'd pretty much dominated the sex 'til then. Christ, I'd made him pass out or something, whereas - apart from those plasma-hot kisses - he hadn't really touched me. Shit, if I'd thought I was craving before-

Naked finally, we slid over eachother; tasting, suckling, luxuriating in the silken slide of skin against skin. But when his head dipped between my legs and I felt warm moisture surround my cock I jackknifed, and jerked away.

He looked up, startled. "What is it?"

What could I tell him? That the idea of watching him suck me off was more than-

So, "Rough," I ground out. "I want it rough." I watched his expression change. An odd light crept into his eyes. He was hard again, of course he was. "If you're not up to it-"

His eyes flashed, and room temperature skyrocketed. In a flicker of movement he grabbed the back of my neck into a pincer grip, and dragged me up onto all fours.


"Don't move," he snarled.

My heart was pounding. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

How 'Paris', that I'd turned my nose up at a nice, comfy blow job because- He pushed a finger into my ass, jabbed it into me. The whiplash of sensation actually made me arch my back and toss my head like some freaking pony.

"Chakotay- oh God-"

He left his finger inside me, and then bent his head down over my back. I felt the graze of lips along my spine. "You like it¨÷?" he breathed, and the words whispered their way across my skin like sleek, sadistic creatures that...

I widened my legs a little and offered myself, offered everything to him. "Just do not stop doing that-" I ground out. I was breathing heavily by this stage, labouring to pull in air. I should have tried to hold something back I guess. I didn't, but fuck it, can you blame me?

His next words hit like a punch. "You asked for it, pretty boy."

A second finger joined the first, probing, opening me ever wider. He must have got him some lubricant from somewhere, because when the third finger poked itself into me it felt slick. Hot, slick and wonderfully slippery.

"Don't- call me pretty- oh, you fuck," I managed. Three fingers.

God, I was hard.

"Giving me an order?" He twisted his fingers inside me, viciously. I shuddered, groaned, didn't reply - couldn't breath, even. Pain from whatever the hell he was doing was knotting itself in my cock, and pounding behind my eyes. I mean, I can usually play those kind of nasty bed games with the best of them- but all I could think at that moment was that it seemed like his whole hand was worming its way in-

It was.

Christ. His fist, his fist was up my ass. Tommy, you sure can pick 'em¨÷ I thought dazedly, and then he started to pump that fist slightly, in and out of me - in and out, in and out - in a slow, excruciating fucking motion.

I went wild. I couldn't control the sounds I was making. The rim of my anus seemed stretched impossibly wide, and that passage was throbbing, it felt ripped open. I had a sudden vision of what I must look like to Chakotay - blonde boy on hands and knees, head between his arms with a hand disappearing into his ass¨÷

My nipples contracted into flinty stones of pleasure, my cock started screaming for release - It was agony. I could barely move, I could barely thrust, yet I couldn't stop my body from shoving backwards. God help me, I was impaling myself on his-

And, stars spinning before my eyes, I realised the full extent of my plight. Braced on all fours as I was, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, there was no friction for the stripe of my aching cock.

"Christ, you-"

I was burning up, scored over by sensation, sobbing with it - but I wasn't going to- I couldn't come like this -

"Fuck. Oh- fuck. You torturing bastard," I panted. Were there tears on my face? "Touch me, or I swear¨÷ I'll¨÷"

He stroked my back gently with his other hand. He sounded calm. "You can touch yourself, pretty boy" he answered, and the pumping of his fist sped up, got harder.

I gasped and nearly bucked him off. Touch myself? The room spun. I didn't want to. I wanted his touch, his fingers, his mouth, his ass-

Jesus, this was fucked up.

I think I was crying out in time with his thrusts. "Please - please - please -"

I thought I was going to break, or pass out. Then, somehow, I felt a splatter of hot moisture hit my thighs. He's come on me. Shit. You asked for it pretty boy...

His hand jerked me roughly, once or twice, and I climaxed, screaming.

Torture, release, oblivion.

I came to in his arms, hurting, but not badly. Fuck, not nearly as badly as I should have been. I'm guessing painkillers, I'm guessing serious painkillers. That or a regenerator, because there was blood on the sheets, a lot of blood, and it certainly wasn't any of it his.

"¨÷should go¨÷" I murmured.

He pressed his lips against my forehead. Our legs were tangled; his arms were hooked around me, casually affectionate.

"Stay with me?" His voice was soft, sleepy, comfort filled.

I wanted to stay with him more than anything. Funny that. Because I've never felt more lonely.

We kissed a little, drowsy like, then gradually our movements stilled. Finally, "¨÷Seska¨÷" he murmured and fluttered into sleep.


I wasn't looking for a proposal of marriage, but hey, the guy had just had his hand in my ass. The least he could have done was whisper my name.

Not that I know who this 'Seska' is, hell, maybe he was paying me a compliment. Yeah, shit. I didn't like it. I had to strangle the urge wake him and whisper some mother of an insulting name in his ear- Admiral Drysdale, maybe. Ambassador Patra. Fido. Something that would really piss him off.

You bastard. Just for that, I will stay the night, I thought. And damned if I'll let you off easy in the morning.

I'm good at hurting too, Chakotay.


I woke just as Chakotay started stirring. Talk about perfect timing. I stretched out in a sprawl, letting myself pose a little. Comfortable. At ease. My best slut-in-the-bed look. "Good morning," I drawled.

His eyes flew open.

"Well hi," I said to him casually. "Bar boy, remember?" I slid out of the bed, wincing a bit at the left over sensation from the uber-fuck. "We met yesterday, downstairs- Oh, c-"

I dragged a hand through my tousled up hair and made an exasperated noise. I'd just remembered the sound of material tearing last night - and I started in on a clothing hunt hoping against hope that the torn stuff hadn't been mine.

"I don't-"

"Sure you don't," I responded absently. Under the bed? Did our things get shoved under the bed? Or-

"Listen, this is a little awkward for me to say, but I don't-"

Don't. Yeah right. I found my stuff tumbled in a corner and decided something. If he was going to have regrets, well, then I was going to-

"Screw around? Screw up? Screw like you used to?"

He sounded like his teeth were gritted. "I'm trying to tell you that-"

"Chakotay?" I asked innocently, slipping on my pants. "Who's Seska?"

"Spirits," he whispered, agonised. "She's- she's- She and I are-"

"Hmm." The Bajoran, I thought. Great. "Well," I paused, then purred. "Is she as pretty as me?"

He made a strangled little choking sound.

I turned back to the bed and raked him over with a look - I meant to provoke him, say something taunting - but our eyes locked.

Oh, fuck. Instant tension.

I was on the bed, I was kneeling beside him before I knew what happened.

He started to say something, I pressed my fingers to his lips. God, his eyes were making it so hard not to just... I finally dipped my head over his shoulder, grinning a little - I knew my hair was going to tickle - and whispered my lips along his neck in a soft, breathy kiss. He actually shuddered.

"Is she as good as me?" I exhaled into his ear.

"Oh, hell no," he said, without thinking.

I pulled away, laughing. "Oh, you poor fuck. Stuck with Seska, the lousy lay."

He actually looked stricken.

No, I thought. No, no, no. I felt like I'd twisted a knife in my own gut, when I should have felt vindicated, when I should have felt like I'd scored - when I should have been out of there hours ago. "Relax already. I'm on my way out. I'm hardly going to tell her."

"You're on your way¨÷"

Off the bed again. "Out."


God. Sometimes I can be a real, claws-out bitch. I'm glad I wasn't looking at him when I said- "I enjoyed you, Chakotay. Maybe if we ever meet up, we can do it again."

There was a long, long silence. I finished dressing, and feigned indifference.

When Chakotay finally replied, his voice was flat, and quiet. "I don't think I'd want to see you again."

Wham. Right into my chest.

"Oh, hell, no," I drawled.

"I should have known better than to think-"

"Honey, you might be a great lay, but you really suck at-"

"Get out."

And that was it. Of course, I grinned at him and before I left I said-

Well finally. Finally the guy shows. I can't believe I'm still here, even. Maquis Shmaquis. I shouldn't fly for these people, really I shouldn't - I mean, the world's silliest meeting place and a contact that's three hours late - they are completely off the wall. If I didn't need the-

He's coming over. Oh great, so now how do I turn this thing off¨÷?

"Are you Tom Par-?"

"Oh. My. God."

"Fuck. Oh, fuck. No."

"Well. Hello, Chakotay. Nice to see-"


The End

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