FEVER

Title: Fever, 1/1
Author: Jaye (Copyright July 2003)
Codes: VOY C/P NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for 
language, adult themes and sex. If you aren't interested (or aren't old enough), 
don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please keep the text 
(especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: Chakotay and Tom end up in quarantine together.

Note: Originally written for the 2003 "Die J/C Die" contest. Set immediately 
after "False Profits."

***************

It took precisely 45 steps to complete a circuit of the living room of one of 
Voyager's VP suites. Tom knew because he'd counted---five times now. He stalked 
once more from the left-hand bedroom door, past the expanse of gray bulkhead. He 
turned with the corner, but paused two meters later to glare at the sealed-from-
the-outside exit.

Then he was moving again, past the tiny kitchenette to the right-hand bedroom 
opening and the outer door to the connecting bath. When he'd completed his 
circuit he moved inward until he flung himself on the couch, throwing his legs 
on the coffee table in front of it and crossing his arms. He glared at his 
companion, who sat at the dining table calmly playing solitaire. "I can't 
believe we're stuck in here for at least another whole *day*," Tom said. He'd 
managed to be civil during dinner, but now was so fed up with the situation that 
he no longer cared about the whine in his voice.

Chakotay didn't even bother to look up from his game, though the corners of his 
mouth hinted at a smile. "It could be worse, you know." His voice was a blend of 
amusement and commiseration.

Tom leveled him a disbelieving look. Sure, the mission to oust those Ferengi 
false prophets had turned out much better than he expected. Chakotay and he had 
not only managed to work together without friction, but also established a 
distinct rapport.

At the start of Voyager's journey their conversations had been clashes of heated 
resentment on Tom's side and cold disdain on Chakotay's. After a few months 
their communication reached a coolly professional neutrality. Eventually the 
chill had dissipated into the tepid exchanges of acquaintances.

And lately they'd even begun to warm to each other. The last few days had 
enhanced their newfound amicability.

Tom had thoroughly enjoyed their time together, sharing quips and conversation. 
Even being forced to go barefoot on the planet hadn't soured Tom's pleasure in 
Chakotay's company. He hadn't expected the older man's shift in attitude would 
create such a different atmosphere between them, one of sharing and camaraderie 
that suggested they were more than two officers fulfilling their duty.

He'd been surprised to conclude that once Chakotay let you into his charmed 
circle of friends, he was a heck of a lot of fun. Tom found himself enchanted by 
the older man's wry observations, air of bonhomie, and hint of mischief.

Truth to tell, Tom had been just as disappointed at the end of their mission 
than at the loss of the wormhole. Mostly because he doubted anything good waited 
for him at the conduit's exit to the Alpha Quadrant. And something very good had 
been started on Talaria.

But it was also very bad, because Tom was supposed to be interested in B'Elanna. 
He'd been flirting off and on with the feisty half-Klingon for months, and now 
he finally had hopes of turning her thoughts to romance.

So he didn't need any complications. Like the realization that while he and 
Chakotay were on their way to becoming friends, Tom had started wondering how 
easily the two men could slide right past "pals" into "bosom buddies".

The potential had always been there. Chakotay had occupied Tom's thoughts far 
more often than a stand-offish CO should have. And in the last few days, Tom had 
been unable to shake some steamy dreams that left him shuddering in ecstasy and 
the sheets a mess.

Tom had gotten to know the private man who lived behind Chakotay's public 
persona. Now he found that man a little too attractive for comfort.

Especially because rumor still had Chakotay enamored of the captain. Tom had 
reviewed his memories of their interactions over the years, but he had concluded 
there wasn't enough evidence to confirm if there was any truth to the 
speculation. Not for sure.

But Tom was pretty damn sure that if he didn't get a grip on himself soon, he 
was in for many more nights of lusty nighttime visions.

And he didn't mean fantasies of B'Elanna.

With an exasperated sigh he rolled himself up and walked over to the table. He 
pulled out a chair opposite Chakotay and plopped himself down, folding his arms 
on the smooth surface. "How could things be worse?"

Chakotay looked up with a smile. "You were so quiet I thought the pasta from 
dinner had put you to sleep." He paused in the act of laying down a card. "This 
could be *much* worse. The Doc could have missed the fact that the biofilters 
didn't remove the Talarian virus, so we could have infected the entire crew. The 
rest of the senior staff were exposed to us, but luckily they're not showing any 
evidence of contagion. The incubation period could have been a lot longer, 
leaving us stuck in here for a week or more. The predicted symptoms could have 
been much worse, so we could be quarantined in Sickbay right now. And," he 
paused dramatically, "Neelix could have been in here with us, if Talaxians 
hadn't been proved to be immune."

Tom shuddered at the thought of being locked up with the ever-cheerful morale 
officer. "I'll grant you that last one. He'd have probably insisted on cooking, 
too."

"I don't want to imagine what dinner would have been like. So this brief spate 
of boredom is a small inconvenience in comparison." Chakotay grinned roguishly. 
"What's your problem? Missing a hot date?"

"Maybe," Tom replied, trying to distract himself from those impish dimples. 
"Ayala was going to lend me his nightclub program. B'Elanna was considering 
going dancing with me."

Genuine surprise smoothed Chakotay's face, then a strange expression seemed to 
ripple across it, leaving Tom wondering if the older man knew something he 
didn't. The suspicion sharpened when all Chakotay said in response was, "Hmmm."

Tom knew from experience that Chakotay wouldn't be elaborating. He received 
confirmation when his companion abruptly returned to the interrupted game, 
effectively ending the conversation. He decided to try a new tactic. "Hey, deal 
me in."

Chakotay's narrowed eyes scrutinized Tom's oh-so-innocent expression. Then he 
obligingly gathered up the cards and began shuffling them. "So what are we 
playing?"

Tom tried to wrench his attention from the flash of those long, strong fingers 
deftly flipping the cards. "Uh---how about war?"

Chakotay's mouth quirked in surprise, then he shrugged and began dividing his 
deck into two piles. "Okay." He glanced up at Tom, the teasing expression back 
on his face. "Just remember I'm not really the enemy."

Sitting half a meter away from what he was swiftly realizing was the sexiest 
creature he had ever seen, Tom knew there was no likelihood of forgetting 
*that*.

No, Tom was more in danger of jumping the man in a show of just how "friendly" 
he wanted to get.

He shook his head, a bit perturbed at the track of his thoughts. "What did the 
Doc say were the symptoms again?"

Chakotay raised his brows, a silent query if Tom had actually been listening to 
the EMH's lecture. Before Tom could open his mouth in protest Chakotay answered 
him. "He said our perceptions may be altered, but the brain scans he took 
indicated we shouldn't be suffering any major delusions. We may experience some 
other mild neurological effects. Plus we could experience a low-grade fever as 
our bodies fight off the virus on their own as the Doctor recommended."

His forehead creased in concern. "Are you experiencing something, Tom?"

Tom debated answering in the affirmative. He was definitely experiencing 
*something*, he just wasn't sure it was due to the Talarian infection. "Nah, but 
I do think it's a little hot in here." He undid two buttons of his shirt.

"I agree with you there. If you get too uncomfortable, feel free to lower the 
room temperature." Chakotay gave him another assessing glance and then pointed 
to the two equal piles of cards he'd laid in the center of the table. "Your 
choice."

Tom picked up a half of the deck, running his fingers over the smooth edges. 
"Say, let's make this a little more interesting."

Chakotay sat back, folding his arms. "Just what do you have in mind?"

Relief and an odd sort of pleasure shivered through Tom as he realized Chakotay 
was being mock-wary rather than truly distrustful. "Winner gets to ask the loser 
a question a hand."

"What kind of questions?" Chakotay asked.

Tom shrugged, struggling to keep the anticipation from his face. "I dunno. Any 
kind, any topic."

Chakotay shook his head. "No, I can just imagine what sort of things you'd like 
to see me try to answer."

Tom felt his lips twist in disappointment. He saw from the shift of dark brown 
eyes that Chakotay had caught the change in expression.

The older man seemed to consider a moment, then relented. "No personal 
questions," Chakotay said firmly.

"Oh come on, that's half the fun." Tom tried a disarming grin as he gestured 
with one arm. "How about a compromise? One personal question for each 'war 
round'---you know, when we both initially have the same card." He returned that 
elbow to the table, propping his chin on his palm. "And we both agree that 
nothing leaves this room."

Chakotay said nothing, his uncertain gaze searching Tom's face. Then he suddenly 
slapped the table with a laugh. "What the heck. But just one run of cards. The 
Doc wants us to get a lot of rest."

Tom chuckled in response and settled down to play.

************************************************************

Several hands later, Tom was shifting in his seat and wiping his brow. They'd 
taken a break to get some iced drinks and increase the air conditioning. Even 
Chakotay was starting to feel the effects of the Talarian illness---his casual 
shirt was halfway open.

Tom was so absorbed with *not* watching a drop of sweat makes its torturously 
slow way down Chakotay's chest that he almost missed his first "war" win. Until 
now they'd been kept to simple questions like favorite food, first kiss, etc.

But after they both put down sevens, Tom topped his stack with a jack. "Hey! My 
pile." He scooped up the cards and set them aside. Then he leaned back with a 
sip of his drink. "Okay, what was that 'Hmmm' about when I mentioned my maybe-
date with B'Elanna?"

Chakotay shrugged, his face bland. "I just think it's a bad sign, that's all."

"But she was probably going to say *yes*," Tom protested, bewildered.

"Exactly," Chakotay countered. "B'Elanna's a fairly contrary woman. If she were 
*really* interested she wouldn't trust herself alone with you. At least, that's 
what I've seen her do in the past: avoid at all costs, and then---wham! bam! 
you're her man."

"Shit, you really think so?" Tom set down his drink and slung himself forward, 
forearms braced on the table.

"I could be wrong," Chakotay offered.

Tom snorted. "Fat chance of that." He wasn't quite sure how he felt about the 
news though.

They played a few more hands in silence. Then Chakotay won a "personal" round. 
He glanced up at Tom. "I guess my question is: Are you truly serious about her?"

Tom looked into Chakotay's waiting expression. His own thoughts were chaotic; 
his and Chakotay's new affability and the news that he shouldn't assume 
B'Elanna's interest had opened up new avenues of speculation. "I don't know."

He received a solemn nod. "Thank you for your honesty," Chakotay said quietly 
and laid down his card for the next bout.

They were almost to the end of the deck when Tom won a "war" again. He 
hesitated, but despite the buzz in his head he knew the information he wanted. 
Taking a deep breath, he stared directly at Chakotay as he asked, "Do you love 
the captain?"

"No."

The swiftness of the answer stunned Tom, but Chakotay wasn't finished.

With a rueful glance Chakotay continued, "Now, if you ask me if I love Kathryn, 
I...I'm not so sure." He sighed. "Once upon a time I would have said 'yes', but 
that was a long time ago." His expression seemed very far away. "Sometimes I 
think it was another lifetime entirely."

Tom would never know who would have won the right to ask the next question---or 
what would have been revealed. He only had time to absorb Chakotay's words 
before the Doc shimmered into place beside them.

"Ah, gentlemen, glad to see you found something to occupy your time." The EMH 
lifted his tricorder and scanned first Chakotay, then Tom. The lines bracketing 
his mouth deepened as he frowned. "Hmmm."

Tom flashed Chakotay a look that the older man returned with a gaze of perfect 
innocence. He rolled his eyes at the façade before complaining, "I'm not getting 
the best news with that sound today, Doc. What's wrong?"

The EMH examined his readings for another minute, then snapped the instrument 
shut. "Nothing dire, Lieutenant, I assure you. You and the commander have 
slightly higher levels of virus than I had predicted, but you are well within 
acceptable parameters."

"I still don't understand why you don't just shoot us up with something and get 
this over with." Tom took a long swallow of his drink. "This isn't exactly a 
walk in the park."

"I have very good reasons for not waving my magic wand and making it all go 
away." The condescension was clear in the hologram's tone. "This is a relatively 
benign Delta Quadrant illness, one that your immune system is handling on its 
own. In a few days, you'll be symptom-free and I'll have enough samples to craft 
an inoculation for the rest of the crew."

Chakotay said soothingly, "Thank you, Doctor, for the check-up. If there's 
nothing else---"

"Just a request that you and Mr. Paris set aside your little games for the 
evening and retire. Immediately. Your bodies need rest." With a final sniff the 
Doc disappeared.

"I guess that's that," Chakotay said, standing. "Who won the game?"

Tom sighed and downed the last of his drink, then pressed the cool glass to his 
forehead. "Let's just call it a draw."

************************************************************

Hours later, Tom was pacing once again. But this time, he was prowling the 
confines of his bedroom. He had awakened, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, and 
*had* to move. And to strip off the cloth confining his tingling skin.

He didn't know his temperature was elevated because of his body's attempts to 
stop the Talarian virus running through his system. He didn't know that the 
pathogen was causing temporary shutdowns of certain brain functions while 
stimulating others.

He didn't even really know his name was Tom.

All he knew was that he wanted.

Low sounds rose from his throat as he paced, his mind racing with images. 
Memories of faces, sounds, scents bombarded him until he wanted to howl.

He was being driven insane by the burning, the need, the hunger that must be 
fulfilled. Abruptly he jerked toward what he suddenly recognized as a means of 
escape.

The hunt was on.

The first doorway he tried remained barred to him. He could hear faint sounds 
behind it he identified as running water. He scrabbled at the hard surface, 
growling, but the indifferent obstacle refused to yield.

He reared back with an angry grunt, eyes darting around the room until he spied 
another exit.

Tom rushed the doorway, ready to claw his way out of his cage. But the panel 
opened at his approach and he dashed into another room, his body slightly 
hunched, muscles tense, ready for anything.

Then he stopped, nostrils flaring. He scented himself in the room---and one 
other. He moved slowly, eyes narrowed as he followed the trail that led him to a 
third door. He raised one hand and reached for it, cautious now.

Then the solid grayness parted and he was inside. With the other.

***************

Tom stopped, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light.

A figure as naked as his own turned at his entrance, a low growl sounding a 
warning. This one was shorter than he, but broader, muscles rippling beneath 
smooth tawny skin.

Skin that was still drenched, drops from wet black hair landing on broad 
shoulders to meander down a powerful chest and taut abdomen. Strong limbs 
gleamed with moisture, as did a cock matching the length and girth of his own, 
which lay heavy and aching between his thighs.

Tom started forward, his throat emitting sounds of triumph and anticipation. 
Language had deserted him, or he would have placed a name to this creature that 
on some level he recognized. But he knew he had found the one to stop the 
burning.

As he approached, the other shook his head, sending a cool shower upon Tom's 
heated skin.

Tom shivered at the shocking sensation but kept moving, watching dark eyes flare 
with anger as the other growled a definite challenge, hackles rising.

He paused. Not prey, then, but a rival to be conquered. Tom bared his teeth in a 
fierce smile and howled a response, flinging himself on the one who would be 
his.

They landed on a soft surface nearby, thrusting at each other. Their movements 
part fight and part exploration as hands grappled on shoulders and arms, legs 
tangled, chests and bellies and engorged sexes mashed together as they rolled. 
Neither gained dominance, yet neither used teeth to do more than snap at air and 
graze skin in warning of violence.

As they continued Tom felt the dark one's skin go from water-cooled to flushed 
hot like his own. His own need increased and with a surge of adrenaline he 
flipped them once more. He was on top, pressing down on sleek shoulders, fingers 
gripping, chest and belly heaving desperate breaths.

Dominant. Triumphant.

But only for a moment. The next he was flying through the air to land on his 
back with a grunt. Tom stared up from the floor as the other rose with a bellow, 
fists clenched, eyes glittering.

Tom felt a moment of true fear at the wild creature looming over him. Then he 
growled challenge once more, hands curling into claws.

They stared at each other, their breaths the only sounds in the room.

Suddenly Tom found himself grabbed by the wrists and hauled to his feet. Before 
he could do more than blink in surprise he was pressed tight to the wall, arms 
pinned on either side of him. Trapped by the weight of the heavier body.

He struggled vainly, teeth bared, hissing defiance.

But the other did nothing, just stared with luminous dark eyes that softened as 
Tom watched.

Tom felt his own anger ease as he cautiously relaxed. The burning still throbbed 
in his blood, but it was held in abeyance by uncertainty.

The hands on Tom's wrists loosened and he felt cool air touch him as the dark 
one put space between their bodies.

He held still as the face across from his slowly approached. He stared, wide-
eyed, as he was nuzzled. Cheeks brushed together on one side, then the other. 
Hesitant, almost delicate caresses.

The other man drew back once more, wide eyes asking a silent question.

Tom swallowed, shuddering, paused by wonder. *This* was what he had been 
seeking: mating, not rutting. He stretched his own head forward, nudging the 
other's nose with his own, rubbing chins, brushing lips.

The spark re-ignited.

The burning flared again as Tom lunged to meet the other, their open mouths 
sliding together as tongues thrust and twined, slick and hot and wet.

Tom wrapped his arms around his mate, hands tangling in sodden hair, then 
sliding down the curve of spine to grasp the round, tight ass.

He made a guttural sound as tawny fingers slid inward to scrape nails across his 
chest. His nipples were painfully hard, and the teasing tweaks and pulls made 
him thrust himself forward for more, for relief.

His instinctive pushes set them in motion as they walked slowly across the room. 
Tom's mate suddenly fell away from him and he followed, landing fully across the 
more solid body sprawled beneath him on their former battlefield.

He stared down into glowing eyes. He thrust his hips forward, rubbing his cock 
against its twin, the burning wrenching a tortured sound from his throat.

Tom's mate nodded, his own sounds and expression echoing Tom's desperation. Then 
with a sigh, the other man lifted his chin, baring his throat.

Need surged through Tom at the sight. He descended, mouth open to suck the soft 
flesh between his teeth. His tongue laved the chosen spot, tasting the sweat-
salt tang. He drew on his morsel, teeth working, pelvis sliding forward as 
bronze thighs parted to wrap around his hips. Purrs of satisfaction rose from 
Tom's chest as the legs lifted higher, letting his cock find purchase lower 
down.

Tom drew back, admiring the shine of saliva highlighting the mark on his mate's 
neck. He settled on his knees, hands and mouth taking their turn to tease the 
tight buds crowning small brown nipples on a smooth chest. He enjoyed the arch 
of his mate's powerful body into his own, the mewls of mingled pleasure and need 
strangling in the bronze throat.

His fingers splayed across sleek thighs, parting them farther as his mouth 
traveled downward along the ripples of ribs and abdomen, the soft-skinned belly.

The musk of arousal grew stronger as he continued his journey. His mate's cock, 
dripping and turgid with need, drew his attention. Delicate licks let the salty 
taste settle on his tongue.

But instinct drew him onward, and his teeth bared in satisfaction at the whine 
of disappointment somewhere above him and the shift of hips against his 
pinioning weight.

The dark one's ballsac soon gleamed from Tom's sucking and laving, the texture 
still tingling against his lips as he burrowed into the shadow behind it.

Golden-brown legs settled across his shoulders as Tom bent to his new task. His 
tongue flicked against the tiny puckered opening, once, twice. He purred in 
satisfaction as the body in his hold lurched again. He forced his tongue past 
the clenching muscles, spreading moisture. As he worked, he felt the opening 
relax to his efforts even as his mate's sounds grew more urgent.

The hands that had been caressing his head and face, running along the tops of 
his shoulders and grasping his arms, suddenly shifted to tug painfully on his 
hair. The other's growl now held a note of command that would brook no further 
delay.

His own rumble of acknowledgement changed to anticipation as he rose. The 
burning could no longer be denied. His penis was an angry color, the veins 
throbbing, liquid spilling from the tip. He pressed against the entrance to his 
mate's body and thrust, a yowl of triumph rising from his throat.

It was so hot---Tom felt his length scorched and squeezed in a muscular sheath 
that yielded only grudgingly to his possession. He slid, desperate for more, and 
felt his shaft slowly encased. He paused, panting, dropping forward to press his 
forehead against the dark one's sweat-slick chest, feeling the heartbeat 
thundering to match his own. He rose with a grunt, gaze locking on dilated brown 
eyes.

Tom fumbled his hands upward until he grasped the broader ones, meshing fingers. 
He squeezed, his rumblings rising in query. The sigh and smile that he received 
with a returning grip drew him downward once more. He licked his lips across 
full ones still curved in reassurance, and despite the awkwardness of the 
position and the tremble of need in his belly he joined their mouths once more.

A nudge of hips against his own sank his cock further into the body below him. 
Tom growled approvingly at the signal. He rose and began to thrust in a rhythm 
that came from the most primal place in his soul, animal sounds rising from him 
in time to his plunges into tight heat.

Tom's sweat dripped down onto gleaming skin as his mate arched to meet his 
movements. His hands tightened with the tension building in his gut, his pelvis 
slamming forward desperately, the burning rising in his veins and filling his 
lungs and steaming from his skin.

Still he stared, into a flushed face that reflected his hunger, his want, his 
need. The tawny chest beneath Tom heaved with each breath, nipples as tight and 
erect as the dusky cock coating Tom's belly with fluid with each slide of their 
bodies. The other man hunched upward, desperate, and Tom arched his back in 
response, thrusting his belly forward and sinking himself even deeper.

Suddenly a burning wetness seared his flesh as his mate flung his head back, a 
howl rising from him. Tom answered the clench and grip and squeeze around his 
cock and with a bellow of his own, hips driving frantically as he expelled his 
seed in furious bursts of pleasure. Red haze drifted over his eyes as the 
burning finally claimed him.

************************************************************

When Tom woke, he was no longer burning. Instead, he was deliciously warm, the 
lazy lassitude of satisfaction.

With his eyes still closed, he savored the salt scent of the soft skin beneath 
his cheek. The warmth was radiating from the body Tom was pressed against, and 
he tightened his arm around the supine form.

His mate. The satisfaction thrilled through him with an echo of his ecstatic 
release.

But his half-drowsing reminiscence was disturbed by some niggling thought at the 
back of his brain. He didn't have language to shape it, but there was an 
instinctive feeling of something unfinished. Incomplete. He couldn't grasp the 
concept beyond the realization that he needed *something*.

Light touches on his back distracted him from a slide into confused frustration. 
He sighed in appreciation of the strokes, caresses ranging over shoulder blades 
and along his spine, sweeping his ribs and teasing his side. He opened his eyes.

Tom lifted his head to greet the dark one's smile with one of his own. He 
instinctively leaned forward, joining their mouths in a communication that 
needed no words. There was no urgency this time, just a gentle exploration that 
gradually shifted from tender to passionate.

When Tom broke the connection and shifted onto his elbow, his gaze alighted on 
the livid bruise shadowing the tawny throat.

It suddenly struck him: he had marked his mate, but bore no such badge himself. 
*This* was what he was missing. He'd staked his claim, but received no matching 
reassurance in return.

Tom's mate must have noticed his distraction, for the dark brown gaze sharpened 
from blurred lust to intense speculation. A low growl issued forth as the 
other's fingers wandered farther south, over the curve of hip and sweeping the 
length of thigh to ruffle the hairs.

Shuddering with the sensation and the blood rushing to his burgeoning erection, 
Tom responded to the query with a purr that was clear invitation. He also 
grabbed the wandering hand and brought it abruptly to his own twitching 
entrance.

The other man drew Tom closer to his body, draping Tom's top leg over his own 
ribcage. Tom got the idea and shifted even more, opening himself for 
exploration.

The fingers teased, circling, dipping and retreating, wandering up and down the 
crack of Tom's ass until he lost track of where they were until they abruptly 
left. He whimpered in protest as the arm slid from underneath him.

He opened his eyes to see his mate sucking his own fingers, making them glisten 
to match their once-again dripping cocks. Tom's eyes slitted when the wet hand 
slid back around him. As thick digits wriggled their way into him he clutched at 
broad shoulders and gasped.

As the fingers continued to ease their way inside Tom, their dry counterparts 
began roaming his front, stroking his throat, combing through his chest hair to 
roll and pinch his nipples to life. Tom arched into the stimulation, his hips 
lifting when the hand was joined by lips and teeth. He rubbed his cheek against 
the soft black hair drying on the back of the bent head.

Tom answered his mate's rumbling purr with a mewl of need. He was beginning to 
burn again, but this time the cause was easily understood. He dug his fingers 
into the muscles underneath his hands as his insides jumped with quick jolts of 
pleasure. His voice rose as his urgency increased.

Suddenly he was on his back. Tom opened his eyes to see the dark one looming 
over him once more. But this time he felt no fear, only desire as he bent his 
knees. He offered himself, yearning for a different kind of consummation.

The other swooped down, covering Tom's mouth, his tongue thrusting inside to 
explore again as he maneuvered between Tom's thighs. Tom's breath left him at 
the spear of heat suddenly breaching his core, sliding forward, making him 
complete. He threw his head back with a cry of joy.

His call was echoed by a rumble of pleasure as his mate began to move inside 
him, first slowly, then with greater speed. One hand stroked up and down Tom's 
thigh while the other curled its way through the hairs at his groin to tease his 
cock.

Tom chuffed in pleasure as he felt teeth latch onto the top of his shoulder. He 
bucked, tilting his pelvis to welcome the sharp slaps of his mate's hips against 
his ass.

The sucking kisses against his skin combined with the clutch of strong fingers 
around his shaft and the solid pressure inside his body. Sparks danced before 
his eyes as the tension gathered in his center, pressure and heat that exploded 
outward in his exuberant howl.

He had found a different kind of bliss.

His mate growled low and long, teeth releasing Tom's flesh. The dark one stared 
down at him, eyes blazing with a mix of tenderness and triumph, plunging wildly 
in the final few thrusts of release.

Then Tom saw him lean forward and felt the gentle sweep of tongue against his 
new bruise. He rumbled satisfaction and stroked his fingers along the bronze 
jaw.

His legs were lowered and he rolled to his side, snuggling into the other man's 
body, tangling their fingers together. He relaxed into soft strokes against his 
back. He once more tucked his nose into the crook of his mate's neck and sighed.

Content, he let sleep claim him once more.

************************************************************
************************************************************

The next day, Tom knew he was Tom.

He also knew that the EMH was mortified at his miscalculations regarding 
possible effects of the Talarian virus. He'd popped in during the next day to 
check on his patients and apparently found them tangled up in each other and, 
incidentally, almost completely cured.

Tom also knew from the Doc's report that his addled brain had been pushed into a 
more primitive state, where instinct ruled completely.

And that his instincts had decided Chakotay was his mate.

Tom's cheeks flushed as he recalled the things they'd done together. He hadn't 
set eyes on the man since the Doc separated them for patching up and further 
observation. A few passes with the regenerator, a shower, fresh clothes, a good 
meal and Tom was himself again.

Except he was keenly aware he hadn't seen or heard from Chakotay since he'd been 
wrenched from the older man's embrace.

And he still felt an echoing anger at the Doc for removing his bruise. The mark 
of his mate. At the time he'd been unable to do more than yip in protest, for 
language had lagged behind awareness as the final vestigates of the virus were 
annihilated.

Now he wasn't quite sure *how* he felt about it. Or Chakotay. Or anything.

Tom snorted and wondered if he was, in fact, still infected. Or maybe he was 
just deluding himself, pretending his own confusion. He straightened his uniform 
and awaited his turn in the Doc's office to "discuss" the incident with the 
captain.

He sure as hell wasn't writing a report on it.

The door opened and Tom rose, sauntering in with a hopefully-convincing air of 
nonchalance.

Which left him in a whoosh of air the second he saw Chakotay and realized how 
much he'd wished to see his own mark still on the older man.

His claim. On his mate.

Tom managed to make his shaky way to a chair. He was acutely cognizant of the 
fact that Chakotay hadn't even glanced his way. His own assessment took in the 
other man's fiercely clenched jaw, tightly-shut eyes and tense posture.

He wrenched his own gaze away before his thoughts wandered to what that graceful 
bronze body could do. He focused his attention on the captain.

Who looked less than happy at the turn of events. "Mr. Paris," Janeway said 
crisply, folding her hands together. "You've read the Doctor's report. Do you 
have anything to add to it?"

"No, Captain," Tom said dutifully, "I just want to put the incident behind me as 
soon as possible."

Though he had a sinking feeling he'd never look at Chakotay the same way again. 
And B'Elanna? He was no longer interested in looking at her at all.

Or anyone else. He sighed in misery, unconsciously sub-vocalizing his distress.

The next moment he was tugged to his feet as Chakotay rumbled a query of his 
own. Then Chakotay shook his head, and spoke. "Tom, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Chakotay," he tried to free his biceps from the other man's hold. He 
knew it was useless before he tried, but he desperately tugged anyway. "Let me 
go."

Suddenly he was free, but the other man's expression was so sad Tom gasped in 
shock. "Is that what you really want?" Chakotay asked.

"I don't understand," Tom said slowly, edging nearer. "When I came in you didn't 
even want to look at me."

"The Doc told me that it was all just hormones and fritzed wiring---technically 
speaking." Chakotay sidled closer as well, tipping Tom's chin with his nose.

Tom felt the heat of Chakotay's breath against the veins madly beating in his 
throat as the other man continued quietly, "Kathryn said I shouldn't try to 
pressure you; it was all I could do not to toss you over my shoulder and declare 
you 'mine'. Or myself 'yours'."

He tilted his head to the side, the better to feel the touch of soft lips 
against his throat. "Real caveman mentality, huh?"

"Just a little." Chakotay leaned back, his expression serious as he ran his 
hands along Tom's forearms to grasp his hands. "I'll be honest with you, Tom. I 
don't know what I'm feeling, love or lust or just the after-effects of this 
crazy Talarian virus. All I know is that I wouldn't mind being stuck in a cabin 
with you for the rest of my life. That it's where I want to be. But what do you 
want?"

Tom had sobered during Chakotay's declaration. Now he measured the waiting dark 
gaze, felt the uncertainty behind it. He sighed and leaned forward, nuzzling 
Chakotay's throat in turn. "I want you, too. For whatever reason, I want you 
with me. I want me with you," he murmured. "I know there's a ways to go between 
love and whatever this is, but I think we can find our way together."

Ignoring their audience, the men kissed, both purring with happiness.

THE END