HOLODECK ADVENTURES II: THE QUICK AND THE DEADLY

Title: The Quick and the Deadly, 1/1
Series: Holodeck Adventures
Author: Jaye (Copyright February 2003)
Codes: VOY C/P NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. "The Quick and the Dead" belongs to TriStar. No infringement is 
intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for m/m sex and bondage. 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: An invitation to a gunfight brings together two very different men.

Note: Did you know that the Australian airing of "The Quick and the Dead" had a 
sex scene? Yep, between Russell Crowe and Sharon Stone. This Voyager version is 
based on a description of the encounter---with recasting, of course.

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

Lightning flashed as Angel stalked down Redemption's single dirt street. It 
illuminated the tall slim man, making the butternut yellow of his clothes gleam 
white-gold. His anger flared even brighter, helping him to ignore the rain 
pelting his hat and the wind whipping the folds of his long overcoat about his 
suede-clad legs.

As each angry booted step brought him closer to the town brothel, he 
contemplated the last few days. He couldn't believe that damn bunch of thugs 
hadn't learned their lesson yet. They were forcing him to rescue the preacher. 
Again.

The blond's eyes narrowed as he recalled the first time he'd acted to save the 
strange, compelling man known as Chak.

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

Angel had ridden into Redemption on a mission: to enter the quick-draw contest 
that drew gunslingers from across the territories and around the world. The lure 
was easy to discern: one million dollars in gold awaited the last man standing.

At least, that's why most of the outlaws and other toughs descended on the strip 
of clapboard buildings that made up the town. He himself had a different 
purpose, one that some would scorn and others would thank their lucky stars for.

Angel was here to kill the iron-fisted, self-appointed mayor of this broken-
hearted outpost: the notorious murderer and marauder known as Herod.

The reason lay deep in a past that linked Herod, Angel, and the town. He knew 
that no one would recognize him as he entered the saloon and declared himself a 
candidate for the competition.

He refused to give his name, so he'd been entered on the lists as the Stranger. 
The sniggering cowpoke who suggested Blondie changed his mind pretty quickly 
after looking down the barrel of Angel's gun.

He'd been relaxing alone at his table, sipping his drink and wondering what the 
first bout would be like, when a commotion drew everyone's attention, even the 
hard-edged, middle-aged Herod's.

The swinging doors burst open before the man flying through them. A burly figure 
dressed in black landed in a roll, momentum carrying him across the floor until 
he was brought up short by the bar.

The clink of the chain linking the cuffs around the man's wrists accompanied his 
graceful effort to stand. The stiff white collar, black trousers, vest and frock 
coat clearly declared the newcomer's vocation as a man of the cloth. The 
manacles made an even stronger case for his current position as a prisoner.

Angel watched as broad but long-fingered hands reached up to smooth straight 
black hair. The dark locks were falling wildly around a face beautifully crafted 
of sharp angles and smooth planes. The man's aura of serenity was heightened by 
deep brown eyes, their calm belying the dire straits he found himself in. Angel 
heard someone mutter, "This ain't no town for a preacher," and had to silently 
agree. Especially this one, whose fearless and compassionate gaze seemed to 
touch Angel to the soul.

The preacher's abductors strolled in and took up position on either side of 
their charge. One addressed Herod, whose cold gray eyes had fixed on the black-
haired man the moment he appeared. "You sure this one used to ride with you, Mr. 
Herod? He weren't nothin'. We beat on him and he just stood there and took it."

The outlaw attempted to shove the bound man to demonstrate, but it was like 
trying to move a mountain. The kidnapper's hand rose, curled into a fist. Angel 
tensed, then relaxed back into his chair. After all, it was none of his 
business.

Herod's thick fingers flicked, stopping his minion's blow. He nodded slowly. "Oh 
yes, Ratsy. Chak here was the hardest-riding, fastest-shooting outlaw there ever 
was." His expression hardened. "Until he grew a peace-loving yellow streak and 
decided to spend his life giving instead of taking."

He picked up his glass of water and took a sip. "I remember you so well, Chak. 
All those days and nights you were at my side. We were very close, once upon a 
time." His eyes assessed, caressed his prisoner. "You used to be as fast as a 
pouncing cat. Are you still fast?"

Silence reigned. Angel felt his own hackles rise as the preacher simply stared 
Herod down, refusing to answer.

Herod didn't take disobedience well. "I said, are you still fast?" the older man 
repeated, voice rising. When no response was forthcoming, he threw his still-
full glass at his prisoner and yelled, "Answer me!"

Everyone in the room gasped as Chak's bound hands reached up with unbelievable 
speed and plucked the glass from the air. He thirstily drank down the contents. 
Angel's own throat dried at the sight of the Adam's apple moving underneath 
dusty bronze skin.

The preacher finished and lowered the glass, again meeting Herod's eyes. "Faster 
than you," was all he said.

Herod looked for a moment like he would explode, then gave a sinister chuckle. 
"Well that's exactly what I've brought you here to find out, Chak." He shouted 
to the barkeep, "Add Chak's name to the contest!"

"No," Chak protested. Though quiet, the word stilled the room as folks turned to 
see their despot's reaction to defiance.

It wasn't good. "No?" Herod asked silkily.

"No," Chak confirmed. "I won't fight, so you might as well send me back."

"I have a better idea, Chak: If you won't fight for me, you'll at least 
entertain me by dancing from the gibbet." He looked to the henchmen he had 
scattered about the room. "Bring me a rope!" he ordered. He jerked his chin at 
the two still guarding the preacher. "Move a chair under the ceiling beam. Then 
escort my old colleague to it."

Angel watched in horror as moments later Chak was balancing on the balls of his 
feet on the chair, a hangman's noose around his neck and Herod's gun sighting 
along his bound frame.

"So you won't fight?" Herod asked, his brows rising.

"No," Chak confirmed.

Herod shot out the rungs holding the chair legs together, one by one. After each 
bullet had done its work he asked his question and Chak reaffirmed his refusal.

Angel made his move just as Herod fired to shatter the last support. He leapt to 
his feet, drawing his gun, aiming and shooting the rope in one smooth motion. 
The preacher dropped to the floor, the noose flopping along his back.

Herod turned, shocked at a second act of rebellion.

Angel coolly holstered his gun and sat back down with a shrug. "Put a gun in a 
man's hand and another at his head and he'll fight soon enough. I want to see 
just how fast he really is."

After a long moment of Angel's life flashing before his eyes, Herod had laughed 
and thrown up his hands. "It looks like Chak's got a guardian angel. I'd like to 
test our new friend's theory---put Chak in the contest!"

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

That had been the first time. In the last few days, Angel had continued to cross 
paths with the preacher, often keeping the manacled man from being hassled by 
the assorted outlaws or Herod's men. It was almost impossible to avoid Chak, 
since Herod kept the preacher chained to the town's fountain all night and to 
the railings of various buildings during the day.

Herod's obsession with his reformed colleague grated on Angel's nerves. His own 
mysterious origins and murky agenda apparently didn't interest Herod at all. 
Every time the younger man managed to start a conversation with Redemption's 
corrupt head honcho, all Herod did was stare out the window toward his prisoner 
and mutter imprecations. Even the fast-draw contest that had claimed so many 
lives seemed inconsequential in comparison.

Still, Angel couldn't deny the preacher was a man to hold the eye. Over the last 
few days in Herod's care, Chak had lost his coat, vest, and collar. Now the 
sunlight shining through a simple white cotton shirt hinted at the impressive 
muscles adorning his torso, and the missing top button offered just a glimpse of 
smooth tawny skin.

It seemed Herod was angling to get Chak in his bed as well as back into his 
outlaw band. If that was the ultimate goal, Angel could understand why the man 
was so focused on making the gentle Adonis revert to a ruthless killer.

Still, tonight was the last straw. They had run out of time. Only four 
participants were left in Herod's gunfest: Chak, Angel, a young man named Kid 
and Herod himself. Chak and Angel were scheduled to fight each other tomorrow.

Angel had ridden out to the town cemetery to commune with the ghosts of the 
past. On his return he learned that Herod's ruffians had slipped their leashes 
and decided to remind the preacher of the pleasures of the flesh. They'd dragged 
him to the brothel for a "night to remember".

Angel decided enough was enough. It was time to show this town that he wasn't 
protecting Chak out of the goodness of his heart. Oh no, he was expecting an 
earthly recompense for all of his efforts. And tonight he was going to claim his 
reward---and heaven help anyone stupid enough to stand in his way.

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

The brothel was filled with its usual mix of cowpokes, townsfolk, and working 
girls. Adding to the crowd were some of the spectators who had traveled to see 
Herod's annual winnowing of fast guns. This year's contest was expected to end 
as all the others: with Herod triumphant, all who could oppose him lying in 
their early graves.

There was a dispirited air to the gathering that matched the faded gentility of 
the surroundings. Most people were uncomfortable with what they knew was 
happening in a second-floor room. They'd seen Chak being pulled through the 
doors and up the stairs, fighting and protesting all the way. It had taken six 
of Herod's goons to get the chained ex-gunfighter inside.

The ladies of the evening sighed among themselves, wondering if the men were 
going to hire some of them to remind the preacher of the lovely, lively sin of 
fornication. They were torn: Chak's hard body and soft mouth promised a 
plenitude of sensual delights, but his continued refusal to sink to Herod's 
level had rekindled the gals' own self-respect.

Their speculations ended as the front door slammed open, hitting the wall beside 
it with a thud. Everyone froze as the enigmatic gunslinger Herod called Angel 
stalked into the room. The man's chill blue eyes promised death. They'd seen his 
slender hands and gleaming six-guns deal it often enough in the quick-draw 
rounds to know it wasn't a bluff.

A harsh voice grated into the stunned silence. "Where is he?"

The tension held another beat, then the brothel madam pointed upstairs. "First 
door on your right," was all she said.

Angel nodded and took off like a whirlwind, knocking people left and right until 
they crowded the railing to get out of his way.

The gunman stopped before the closed portal, drew his guns and took a deep 
breath. Then he kicked the door in.

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

Chak was ducking yet another henchman's attempt to teach him some manners when 
his guardian angel arrived with a crash of thunder and the bang of the opening 
door.

He was profoundly relieved to see the slim stranger who'd been saving his hide 
since he'd arrived in Redemption. Their conversations had revealed only a little 
of the gunman's hazy past, but the younger man's good heart was clear enough. 
And his handsomeness was easy to see.

Angel had the classic features of a fairy-tale prince, complete with wavy gold 
hair and bright blue eyes. His pale skin had acquired a hint of darker color 
from the sun, and the faint tan made him a part of the landscape. His body was 
wiry but tough, lean and strong like the predators that roamed the West.

At the moment Angel looked ready to strike, without a second thought and with 
deadly accuracy. Chak relaxed a little as the six men around him also heeded the 
warning in the steely gaze and glinting guns, raising their hands in surrender.

"Against the wall---Now!" Angel barked, gesturing with one weapon. Herod's 
henchmen obeyed without hesitation or question, pressing their palms to the 
faded wallpaper. Angel walked down the row, casually knocking each one out with 
a single blow to the back of the head. When he was done, he turned to the 
preacher.

The blue gaze raking over Chak made him shiver as a thrill of awareness ran down 
his spine. He watched as one gun was holstered, and responded to a beckoning 
gesture of Angel's free hand.

Chak was shocked as that hand grabbed the chain between his wrists and jerked 
him bodily into the hallway. He waited as Angel pulled the door shut and locked 
the outlaws in. Then before he could ask what was going on his chain was pulled 
again.

He stumbled behind Angel as the taller man dragged him down the corridor. Then a 
second door was kicked open and Chak found himself being tossed into another 
bedroom. He landed on a mattress, bouncing a little. He immediately leapt to his 
feet and moved away from the wrought-iron bed.

Angel locked the door and holstered his other gun. Chak could *feel* the stare 
that slid over him once, then returned to linger and caress. Chak's eyes widened 
at the aura of menace---no, intent---that shimmered in the air around the 
gunman.

Chak's breath caught as he suddenly realized just why Angel had brought him in 
here.

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

Angel had to grin as he watched the preacher mentally connect the dots. The man 
looked adorably confused, then stunned as he started babbling and backing away.

"I didn't want to be here, you know. They---they somehow got the key to the 
padlock and unhooked me from the fountain. I---I tried to get away but there 
were too many and---and they said I'd survived so many rounds in the contest I 
deserved a reward and---and they were going to give me one. They---they were 
trying to get me to tell them which girl I wanted when---when you stopped them. 
And I'm very grateful---really I am, I tried to tell them I didn't want any of 
the girls but they wouldn't listen, but---but don't you think we should try to 
escape?" Chak ran out of breath as he ran out of room. His back hit the wall. He 
tensed as Angel approached, one sauntering step at a time.

Angel was in no hurry as stalked his prey. The view was exquisite and he wanted 
to enjoy it. He took off his hat and tossed it onto a chair, then followed with 
his coat and gunbelt. His eyes continued their bold assessment of the man 
pressed against the faded red wallpaper.

Chak had obviously been out in the rain for quite some time before he ended up 
in the brothel. His shirt was so wet it was almost transparent, clinging to 
curving muscles, twin dusky peaks clearly showing through the cloth. His pants 
were molded to his legs, and his bare toes were clenched against the red carpet.

Angel wondered a moment where the preacher's boots had gotten to but didn't 
really care. He moved in close to Chak, breathing his air, feeling the brush of 
their chests with each inhalation. He sensed Chak's chain press against his own 
belly as the bound man tried to raise his hands. Angel's grin widened as he 
ground against his captive's body, trapping the chain and therefore Chak's 
wrists. He raised his hands and placed them on either side of Chak's head, his 
gaze probing the wide brown eyes.

They stared at each other.

Chak's heart was still beating fast, but now with an unfamiliar excitement. 
Despite all of Herod's efforts throughout their association, Chak had never 
shared the outlaw's bed. Or in fact, any man's. It wasn't safe to do so when 
your reputation for ruthlessness was all that kept you alive.

He'd never really understood the appeal before. Women were soft, easy, willing. 
There was no reason to seek out men for sex; companionship was all he needed 
from them.

But now *he* was the one being sought. Captured. Claimed. Chak recognized all 
those thoughts swirling in the dilated blue eyes before him. The knowledge 
sparked a desire he never expected. True, he'd learned to respect Angel's 
abilities even as he'd tried to persuade the fair-haired man to leave 
Redemption. He'd also acknowledged Angel's beauty, completely male and 
confusingly alluring.

Now Chak recognized a few other truths. They were both trapped in Redemption; 
Herod had seen to that. And there was also no denying or escaping the passion 
rising between them. He stared back at Angel, wanting to touch him, to map the 
contours of his face and learn the texture of his hair. He wanted to understand 
what form passion took between men.

Chak did the only thing he could: he surrendered.

Angel watched the emotions ghost across the face so close to his. He saw the 
umber eyes darken to black, the full lips part on a whispered "Please," and 
suddenly Chak was kissing him.

Angel immediately pushed his tongue into the offered sweetness, exploring the 
sharp edges of teeth and the soft moist haven of the inner walls. He tasted Chak 
thoroughly, his hands shifting to tilt the wet dark head for greater access. His 
hips began to pulse forward of their own volition as he gloried in the moans 
rising from the bronze throat.

Suddenly Chak's body shook with a chill. Angel immediately pulled back, looking 
at his companion with concern. "You're soaked," he murmured, his tone a mix of 
scolding and caring.

"That happens when you're left out in the rain," Chak retorted, trying to bring 
his body back under control.

Angel's expression turned wicked. "Then let me get you out of these wet things." 
He backed up a step, his hands moving to the fastening of the black trousers. He 
paused a moment, his raised brows asking a question. He was relieved at the 
fleeting nod and smile he received.

He quickly peeled off Chak's pants and underwear, but was stymied by the shirt. 
He couldn't remove it because of the manacles. The drier bottom edges now hung 
to mid-thigh, hiding too much skin. With a snarl of frustration he looked around 
the room for inspiration.

Besides the turned-down bed and the chair Angel had flung his things on, there 
was only a dresser, another chair, two nightstands and a pot-bellied stove. Gas 
lamps on the walls gave the room a golden glow, hiding the frayed edges and 
nicked surfaces of its appointments. His eyes alit on a large china pitcher 
resting on the top of the stove.

He moved over to investigate and found it full of steaming water. A quick check 
of the bureau revealed a matching bowl and a selection of bathing items on a 
tray, along with a pile of clean white towels.

Angel moved the tray to the nightstand, then transferred the pitcher and grabbed 
a towel. He turned to his companion, who'd been watching in quiet curiosity.

"Come here," Angel said softly, and held open the towel. When Chak reached him 
he tossed the towel over the other man's head, rubbing his hair dry. He lowered 
the cloth and spent a moment finger-combing the dark locks into some semblance 
of order.

Then he wrapped the towel around the wet shirt, trying to absorb some of its 
moisture. When he was finished he tossed the towel away and contemplated the 
damp garment a long moment. Suddenly he reached forward and ripped it open, 
buttons flying.

He silenced Chak's startled protest with another kiss, this one searingly 
possessive. He pressed himself against the revealed golden-brown flesh, pushing 
his suede-clad erection into a dusky naked one.

Chak's head was spinning. The breath was being sucked out of his lungs by a 
voracious mouth, his nerves were tingling as rough cloth and cold chain rubbed 
against his skin. Then his shirt was pushed off his shoulders, and Angel's lips 
and teeth were on his neck. He groaned as kisses and bites traveled a random 
pattern along his throat. Hands explored his back, sliding under the shirt to 
trail from his shoulder blades to his thighs. He moaned again at the unfamiliar 
touch of fingers on his buttocks, and between them.

He wasn't ready for the change of venue when Angel suddenly grabbed his hips and 
swung him onto the mattress. Before he knew it he was flat on his back with his 
arms stretched above his head. The chain had been expertly tangled in the whorls 
of the leaf-patterned wrought-iron headboard. He tugged experimentally; he 
definitely wasn't going anywhere. His eyes sought his captor. The younger man 
had risen from the bed and was swiftly stripping, revealing a lightly furred 
chest and belly, the muscles of arms and thighs. The lamplight gilded his skin 
and seemed to caress the length of a long, full cock jutting proudly from a nest 
of dark gold curls.

Chak ran his eyes along the lean body, confirming his first impression of a 
hungry predator. He swallowed and wondered what would happen next.

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

Angel looked at the bronze form sprawled against white sheets. Honey-colored 
skin gleamed, the contours of the heavy muscles beneath highlighted by shadows. 
The smoothness of the legs and torso excited him; he wanted to rub his own hair-
roughened skin against the silky expanse. He also had the urgent need to run his 
tongue over every inch. The stiff column of Chak's penis seemed to beckon him, 
swaying slightly with the older man's small movements as he tried to free 
himself. Angel watched powerful biceps strain against the shirtsleeves and 
considered tearing the garment off completely.

Instead, he spread Chak's thighs and settled himself between them. Angel glided 
his body along his captive's as he reached over for the pitcher. He poured a 
generous amount of water into the bowl and plopped in a large sponge. Then he 
squeezed it out and began washing Chak. He varied the pressure as he roamed the 
tawny throat and sides, chest and belly and legs. He constantly re-soaked and 
squeezed out the sponge, making sure it stayed warm and not too wet.

Soon he gave in to temptation and let his mouth lick up the scattered droplets 
left behind. He teased the erect nipples, sucking and biting, then let his teeth 
graze over the glistening pectorals and midriff. Ribs and belly were also laved 
and tasted.

The chain stretched taut as Chak moaned and pulled, trying to bring his hands 
down to touch his sweet torturer. His body seemed to lift and twist of its own 
accord, responding to the rough stroke of sponge and tongue, the sting of teeth.

He brought his knees together, feeling the tiny hairs on Angel's legs prickle 
against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He bucked his hips, trying to 
find friction for his painfully erect cock.

At the movement Angel caught the flash of shadow along the seam between Chak's 
buttocks. He paused, a sudden idea hardening his own cock further. He quickly 
abandoned the large sponge, looking at his other choices.

There it was: a smaller sponge, this one more cylindrical in shape. He hastily 
picked it up, then clutched it and settled back into his kneeling position.

He slipped his left arm under both of Chak's knees, and in a sudden move folded 
and shoved the bronze legs into Chak's chest, holding them up with a forearm 
against the backs of the solid thighs. He gave a wolf's smile as he spied his 
target: the tiny orifice that was his ultimate destination. Pinching the tip of 
the sponge to compress it, he delicately probed Chak's anus.

Chak held his breath, not knowing what to expect. He could sense Angel's gaze on 
his exposed body. He gasped as he was breached. The sponge was pressed inward, 
inexorable, its rough internal caress like nothing he'd ever imagined. He 
groaned and shifted, uncertain whether to pull away or push forward for more. He 
could do neither, completely at the blond's mercy.

Angel manipulated the sponge, avidly watching Chak's tight opening stretch 
around it. He pushed in another inch and heard the older man's breath hitch, 
then deepen as the sponge brushed against his prostate. He shifted forward and 
eased the pressure on Chak's legs.

His gaze was filled with a glorious sight: Chak's head was flung back, his 
throat arching, his lips open in deep moans. His hands were gripping the chain, 
knuckles showing white. The older man's powerful chest and abdomen lay bare for 
Angel's perusal, and his cock was coated with the precum dripping from its 
flared head. His balls were tight and full beneath it. Ripe and ready.

Angel couldn't resist the lure any longer. He leaned down and simultaneously 
thrust with the sponge and swallowed Chak's cock.

A shout pushed its way out of Chak's throat as he was filled and sucked. The 
intensity of the sensations arched his back, his seed jetting down Angel's 
throat. He writhed, unable to stretch or buck or do anything except ride out the 
wave of pleasure. Eventually he came back to himself, his body sinking into the 
mattress with a sigh.

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

Angel scrambled up the quiescent form, spreading his legs to encompass Chak's 
wide chest. The few remaining shirt buttons were sharp against his shin. He ran 
gentle fingers down one high-boned cheek, startling open sated brown eyes.

His voice was a soft command. "Make me wet."

Full lips opened and Angel again found himself fascinated by the view as Chak's 
tongue darted out for a tentative lick. He moaned.

Chak tasted salt and musk. He raised his head and surrounded the purple crest 
with his mouth, drawing it in slowly. The younger man's pulse beat against his 
lips and tongue. His mouth watered as he took more and more of the straining 
length.

Angel's eyes had closed in pleasure, his head tilted toward the ceiling as he 
groaned his delight. It was too much; he wanted to thrust, to feel Chak suck him 
into oblivion. Instead he opened his eyes and slowly pulled himself out, 
absurdly pleased when a tiny moue of disappointment formed on the carved lips. 
"Thanks," he said with a smile, then slid back to his original place in the vee 
of Chak's body.

As he lifted the bronze hips, another thought struck him. His eyes glittered as 
raised Chak's pelvis higher, to the level of his mouth. With a gleefully evil 
chuckle, he pulled out the sponge and began to work.

Chak gave a grunt of surprise as Angel's tongue began to lap a trail from his 
balls to his asshole. Then the agile invader slipped into the loosened portal, 
stroking him internally. He whimpered and felt his cock twitch with renewed 
life.

Angel grinned at the sound. He tightened his grip on the sleek body, holding 
Chak in place as the supine man groaned and shifted. With a final lick he 
lowered Chak and slid his aching cock into the readied channel, not stopping 
until his balls were pressed tight against a satiny bronze ass. He began to 
stroke in and out of the slick passage.

This was bliss: hot, tight, the body beneath him welcoming and completely under 
his control. Angel unconsciously dug his fingers into Chak's hips as he pistoned 
deeper and harder, seeking to bury himself completely, to possess every inch of 
his captive. To stake his claim, to brand Chak body and soul so he would know, 
would remember no other touch.

Chak could feel the heat building again in his core. He wanted to meet each 
stroke, to match passion for passion. He arched his back and answered every hard 
thrust, bringing the younger man deeper into him, trying to merge into one 
flesh. He began to tug at the chains once more, his head tossing from side to 
side, muttering incoherently.

Angel raked his nails along the delicate crease between hip and leg, feeling 
Chak jump at the tiny pain. He teased the tight balls, one knuckle burrowing 
underneath to press hard at the sweet spot. His hand shifted upward to grip and 
stroke Chak's turgid sex. Suddenly his palm was slick with semen and his cock in 
the vise-like grip of Chak's ass. He slammed himself forward again and again, 
releasing his seed with a roar of exultation.

Chak felt the lightning race along his nerves, pulling him taut in an arc of 
pleasure. He called out his ecstasy.

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

Tom settled his face into the crook of his husband's neck, languidly licking at 
the droplets of sweat gathered there. "You need a bath," he mumbled against the 
tasty flesh.

"I just had one," Chakotay replied idly, still floating. He languidly rubbed his 
cheek against soft blond hair. "Cut me loose, would you?"

Tom lifted his head, examining the tangled chain. "Computer, delete manacles," 
he ordered. He sat up as his husband's arms flopped onto the pillows and helped 
Chakotay remove the shirt. Afterward he lifted one bronze wrist, examining its 
circlet of purple bruises. His brows furrowed. "These are just for show, right?"

Chakotay ran his free hand up and down his husband's lean flank, enjoying the 
contact. His eyes followed Tom's. "They *were* for show. There might be one or 
two real ones now." He offered a lazy grin. "Take it as a compliment."

Tom wrinkled his nose but smiled back. He began to soothe the chafed skin with 
his lips and tongue. In between licks he said, "I'll make sure to regenerate 
them before we leave."

"You do that," the older man agreed. "I don't want to have to explain to the Doc 
the difference between 'well-used' and 'abused'." He settled more comfortably on 
the bed, his eyes drifting closed. "This was definitely the former."

"Glad to hear it," Tom said and exchanged one wrist for the other. "I wasn't 
sure how you'd take my impromptu sponge bath."

Chakotay chuckled. "Let's just say if you were my nurse, I'd be a very 
cooperative patient. And I'd want you to be absolutely obsessed with 
cleanliness." He opened his eyes again as something occurred to him. "Hey Tom, 
speaking of obsessed, what's the deal with Herod? He seems to think he and I had 
some kind of history together." He shuddered. "He's creepy. I kept wanting to 
tell him I'm married so he'd leave me alone."

"I was wondering that myself. I didn't think I'd programmed him to be so hot for 
your delectable bod." Tom frowned. "And I know I didn't input the way he kept 
trying to rub up against you. I nearly spit a brick when he tore your clerical 
collar off." He shrugged. "We'll get him tomorrow, though."

"So what's the plan?" Chakotay asked, curious to know the scenario. He tugged 
his husband back down to lie on his chest as they talked.

Tom snuggled into the warm embrace, the one spot in the universe he felt most at 
home. "Well, we're supposed to fake my death and Herod kills Kid. I set off 
dynamite under every building in town, and sweep in for a final challenge. You 
kill all the henchmen, I shoot Herod through the heart. Then I ride off into the 
sunset and leave you as the new marshal of Redemption."

One sable brow rose. "Marshal of a town with no buildings? Thanks a bunch."

Tom grinned sheepishly, then leaned up to touch noses with his mate. "You got a 
better idea?"

Chakotay caught the twinkle in the blue eyes. "Sure, we stay here in bed and 
tell the computer to give Herod a heart attack. He can die in his sleep. Oh, and 
let the cavalry ride in to deal with the riff-raff." He smiled and winked. "But 
of course they leave us all the gold."

Tom touched a fingertip to each of those killer dimples. "So you'd rather stay 
on this nice soft bed and fuck than finish the holonovel?"

Broad shoulders shrugged. "Well Tom, I'm just playing my character. The 
preacher's reformed; he's a lover not a fighter. And *I've* been sleeping 
outside in the town square, so being in this bedroom is like lying the lap of 
luxury."

"Oh, I can assure you, Chak, that *I'm* lying there." Tom said with a 
provocative shimmy, then sobered. "You were really okay with everything? I 
didn't actually come right out and ask."

"I loved every minute, Tom." Chakotay's expression softened. "I love you."

Tom smiled. "Then one heart attack and clueless cavalry coming up." Tom gave the 
commands, then kissed his beloved mate, their mouths communicating emotions 
without words.

When they broke for air, Chakotay said, "By the way, I'm going to pick the 
program for our next playtime. I'm a little tired of the Old West."

Curiosity pricked Tom's ears. "Oh, what do you have in mind?"

"A setting you can immerse yourself in," Chakotay said mysteriously. Then he 
grinned and bucked his groin into Tom's. "But until then, ride 'em cowboy."

Tom clutched his lover and prepared to saddle up once more. "You got it, 
pardner."

THE END