Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.

Note: this is a sequel to "One Night" and won't make sense without having read the first installment.

For Adrienne, because she asked for it <s>

The Game

Chakotay was tired. Tired of work, of living. Of her. He couldn't help but wonder, how, after all these years had it come down to this. Where had he gone wrong, he questioned, not for the first time that day. He'd been there for her, supported her through the worst, and still, she treated him like an expendable commodity; taking only what she wanted, when she felt the need. He knew it had to end.

But try as he may, Chakotay couldn't quite seem to comprehend the meaning of end. He'd waited so long for a moment like this; he'd waited for an eternity. And now that it had happened, who was he to judge the emotion behind it all. Hell, he'd gotten what he wanted, hadn't he?

This was the question he was forced to ask.

The bitterness with which he'd left served only as a reminder of the dream they'd both lost. She'd asked him, as he stood waiting at the door, whether he had ever loved her. And he'd answered her as truthfully as he could-once.

He had always loved Kathryn Janeway. He'd only fallen 'in love' with her when they'd been thrown across the Galaxy by the Caretaker, so long ago. It seemed they both had felt an attraction the first time they met, and he'd known at that moment, their journey would be an interesting ride, if nothing else. That was only the beginning, and for that last seven years, he and Kathryn had become experts at portraying an agonizing test of determination and intentions. It was a game they played, and they played it very well. But last night, calmed by the wine, her presence, and the effect she had on him, Chakotay had lost.

It was not the first time he had been overwhelmed by Kathryn Janeway, and he had a feeling it would not be the last.

Chakotay knew that when she had contacted him a few moments ago, to say she was sorry and to invite him for dinner, she had only wanted to set things right between them. So, he would go to her quarters, politely indulge her attempts at a reconciliation, and then tell her that it was over. He would say that last night had been a mistake, a terrible mistake that never should have happened. They should accept it, and move on because it was something neither of them had wanted-much.

Chakotay grabbed the bottle of wine she had instructed him to bring-red, as usual- and headed to the door. Mentally, he readied himself, and then quickly stepped out into the corridor. He would not succumb to her attempts at flattery, and he would purposefully ignore the way her hair gently caressed the side of her face. He would also ignore the way it had felt when his hand had replaced her hair, and had explored every aspect of her.

He now stood at her door, bottle in hand and signalled his arrival. And in the blink of an eye, she stood before him, staring right through him, as she so often could. "Chakotay, I'm so glad you came." she almost whispered, and he stood, captivated as she leaned casually against the doorframe.

She was as beautiful as she had been the last time, only now, he was party to her significant ulterior motives. Chakotay hardly noticed the way her skirt brushed the side of her thigh, and his eyes didn't linger, too long, on the revealing neckline which, when she moved, teased him with a memory of what lay hidden.

"Are you going to come in?" she asked finally, the side of her mouth turning up in a half smile.

He nodded and forced the beating of his heart back to normal. It had begun.

Inside, she curled up on the sofa while he poured the wine, and their fingers brushed when he handed her a glass, sending a quick series of electrical pulses down through his body.

"How's the hand?" he asked, taking a seat.

She smiled, and sipped her wine. "You noticed? I'm surprised."

"Kathryn.."

"Chakotay" she mimicked, and he noted she had moved closer. He felt the heat radiate from the spot where her leg touched his thigh.

He was about to begin a compelling, or so he believed, speech about how this was never meant to be, but Kathryn was watching him, and he couldn't seem to formulate the words anywhere but in his head.

"Last night was all wrong." she stated finally, again sipping her wine. He couldn't speak, so instead he watched as the deep red liquid moistened her lips.

"Chakotay, you're staring."

"And you're captivating." he whispered, and mentally kicked himself for letting down his guard.

But Kathryn only smiled; a small victory on her part, and continued. "I can't have a relationship Chakotay, you know that."

Again he noted she had moved toward him, and now he shivered as her hand slowly moved up his thigh.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want you." She whispered, and touched her lips to his.

Chakotay inhaled deeply, taking her with him. He had known, very early on in this little game of theirs that Kathryn did not always follow the rules. In fact, she was very fond of playing dirty-a trait he found overwhelmingly sexy in this woman-but he would be damned before he ever told her.

He finally broke away and pushed her back, as she gazed at him over heavy laden eyes. She began to speak, but Chakotay quickly silenced her questions with his index finger, and she sighed beneath him, tempted by the intricate patterns he was tracing along her jaw. "Tonight" he whispered, moving closer, teasing her with alternating brushes on her lips. "Tonight, we play by my rules" he finished, and assaulted her mouth, leaving her writhing beneath him.

Any coherent thought of escape had quickly disappeared when she had touched her lips to his. He needed this to happen almost as much as she wanted it. This was not something he would ordinarily do; indulging in this never ending string of one night stands-she liked to call it that- but in a situation such as their own, he had learned to take what she would give him. This didn't mean, however, that he always had to play by her standards. She was skilled at getting what she wanted, and for a very long time, she had wanted him. This was only a game to her, another conquest, and he had already fallen for her-once.

He wasn't about to lose the rematch.

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