IN VINO VERITAS

Title: In Vino Veritas 2/2 
Author: Jaye (Copyright August 2002)
Codes: VOY C/P PG-13

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are
the  property of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit
made. This  is PG-13 for language and suggestions of m/m 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 
wordsmith872@fastmail.fm

Summary: A drunk Tom Paris has an interesting conversation with 
Chakotay.

Note: An experiment in POV that got out of hand. Part one is
Chakotay's  perspective, the conclusion Tom's.

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

PART TWO (CONCLUSION)

Bleah. My mouth felt slimy, as if three dozen centipedes had
scampered  through it. That wouldn't have been so bad, but they
forgot to wipe off  their muddy sneakers before making the journey.
Or maybe they did wipe  them off---on my tongue.

My eyes were gritty, my head about two sizes too big and four times
as  heavy. No doubt about it, I had one major hangover. I knew
better than  to groan and make the pain even worse.

I even felt a little seasick, which didn't make sense on a starship. 
After a moment or two I finally figured out that I *was* moving. Not
the  "Yeah we're all moving because Voyager's cruising along at warp
six"  kind of thing. This was up and down, not that subtle forward
push that  most times you don't even notice.

So why am I moving up and down?

Bringing a few more sluggish brain cells on line, I started
receiving  data from my numbed nerve endings. I was lying down, sort
of halfway  between my side and stomach. Under some blankets. Bed
seemed like a fair  guess as to where most of my body was. Those
parts weren't moving. My  head and arm were somewhere else. They
*were* moving, and I was  definitely not burying my face in a
pillow. This surface was not that yielding.

But it was soft and warm. And breathing. Shit. My eyes blinked open
and  I stared forward. Of course, the lights were off so what I
mainly saw  in the streaking starlight was the back of the chair
from my desk. I  knew it was my desk because it was cluttered with
my stuff and the chair  still had a towel haphazardly slung over it.
The bed was in shadow, or  else whatever---all right, whoever---I
was lying on was draped in  something dark. We definitely weren't
skin to skin. Which was just as well  because I had no clue who the
hell I apparently got horizontal with last  night.

I decided to look on the bright side. At least I was guaranteed to
know  my bedmate's name. There were only 143 people to choose from.

I yawned and my hand automatically lifted to cover my mouth. The 
tinkling didn't register at first, but the sudden slide of cold
metal on the  side of my neck certainly did. I stared at the silvery
handcuff on my  wrist. It looked awfully familiar. In fact, it
looked exactly like the  Klingon-proof one I had replicated recently
as a gag gift for my  betrothed buddies.

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to recall what happened 
last night. I remember beer---lots of it. And wishing Harry and
B'Elanna  every happiness, etc., etc. I made a witty speech. Okay, I
made a speech  *I* thought was witty. And then had more beer.

Wrinkling my brow and clenching my fists didn't help me remember 
anything more and just increased my headache, so I stopped and
flopped myself  onto my pillow, which was not moving.

To my eternal chagrin, picture-perfect recollections of my drunken 
escapades usually turned up from under some rock in my brain during
the day  after. I just had to wait for them to show. But I was
really worried.  Getting handcuffed on the first date was not my
usual style. Then again,  getting totally sloshed wasn't my style
either. Not anymore. I pondered  that truth as I lifted up my shirt
for a good belly scratch. Then I  realized I was wearing a shirt. I
peered downward; I still had my boxers,  too.

I relaxed back onto the pillow, my spirits much improved despite the 
hangover. Maybe this was just some silly engagement-party prank.
Mindful  of my aching head, I called up dim lights and carefully
turned on my  side, rising up to see who was in on the joke.

shitShitSHitSHItSHIT! It was no joke. It couldn't be. I was chained
to  Chakotay.

I confirmed it, using my eyes to follow the damning dangling metal 
links through a hoop on the wall to the cuff adorning one
golden-brown  wrist. Chakotay was still asleep, his breaths even,
dark lashes fanned  against his cheeks.

One quick peek under the blanket reassured me that he was still
clothed  as well. Damn sexy legs, too. I hurriedly covered him back
up, not  wanting to be caught being a Peeping Tom.

I just sat there a moment, stunned. If the situation wasn't so
bizarre  I'd have been thrilled to wake with this treasure in my
bed. It would  fulfill some of my most deeply hidden fantasies.

And hidden is the operative word here. I desperately hide the truth 
that I desire---hell probably even love---the enigmatic Mystic
Warrior,  the way teenage boys hide the fact they study ballet. You
just don't want  other people to know. They start looking at you
funny.

He's never batted those big brown eyes at me. Besides, how likely is
it  that the two of us could go from hating each other's guts to
holding  each other's hearts. And I can't *believe* I get so
sloppily poetic when  I think about Chakotay. I still cringe at "Ode
on a Dorvan Tattoo."  Sheesh. I wish the part of my brain that keeps
pretending to be a bard  would just die of embarrassment already.

Sure, we've put aside all the "Traitorous Scum/Hypocritical Bastard" 
glaring and shouting matches we indulged in for the first few months
on  Voyager. And I have to give the Big Man credit. He may have
wanted to  pound my ass into the deck then, but he didn't---and
wouldn't let anybody  else, either. Though I'd *never* admit it, I
was kind of impressed. He  kept the foaming, slavering packs of
rabid 'Fleet and Maquis from  tearing me into little dripping
bite-sized chunks. A lesser man would  probably have pulled up a
chair and some popcorn and cheered them on while  taking holopics to
gleefully cackle over later.

But we're not close. We hang out together sometimes, yeah, but never 
alone. Maybe friends, not pals or chums or buds. And having Chakotay 
respect and like me is more than I ever thought possible. So I'm not
going  to throw that away by confessing my feelings. It's not worth
the risk  of seeing him lift one sable-winged brow in disdain while
those  bee-stung honey-sweet lips curl into a sneer. Okay, okay,
Chakotay's beautiful.  Fucking gorgeous. Just give it up with the
adjectives already, will ya?  I sighed. Of course my brain never
listens.

I keep my smart-alecky Flyboy face on most of the time we're
together.  But I do watch him---hard body and soft heart---when I
know he's not  looking. And dream about him. And whack off to vivid
images of him taking  me and giving himself in return. And go to
sleep aching for his arms  around me. But it's not like I'd ever
*do* anything about it.

So how the hell did Chakotay end up in my bed? *Chained*?!?!

I set my elbow into my pillow, propping my too-large head on my
hand.  The sight of a sleeping Chakotay was soothing to my sore
eyes. He was so  fucking adorable, his hair tousled, his strong face
relaxed and that  wonderfully curved mouth slightly smiling.

My cock decided he was also adorably fuckable. This time I did
groan.

The sound must have reached Chakotay on some level because he
started  to stir, brows drawing together slightly as if he were
unconsciously  trying to solve some puzzle. Then his lashes
fluttered a time or two and  those soul-stealing brown eyes were
looking up at me.

"Good morning," Chakotay said with a smile like a sunrise.

"Um, hi," I mumbled as I raised the lights a little more. I was
acutely  aware that while he looked delectable, I probably resembled
something  the cat wouldn't drag to the dump. I lifted my wrist,
letting the chain  swing. "I'm guessing this was my bright idea?"

Chakotay blinked a couple times as his face shifted through half a 
dozen expressions to end up a portrait of perfect neutrality. He
cleared  his throat, then said, "Yes. You were showing me a gift for
Harry and  B'Elanna. I guess you wanted to check if it worked."

"So I tested it on you? On us?" Even with the dryness of
morning-after  dehydration my voice was pretty loud. I winced as the
sound assaulted  my sensitive eardrums.

"Well, I didn't exactly volunteer here, Tom. You sort of snuck up on 
me." Chakotay had shifted to sit up, wrapping his arms around his 
blanket-draped knees. "Do you think you could release the cuffs
now?"

I automatically knelt on the pillow and reached for the keypad, then 
paused and turned to study Chakotay more carefully, startling away
his  sad, wistful expression. The mask came back, heightening my
suspicions.  Chakotay doesn't lie well and knows it, so when there's
a chance he may  need to fudge the facts he usually goes
stone-faced. "What exactly  happened last night?" I asked pointedly.

His wary eyes searched mine. "You really don't remember?"

I shifted, uncomfortable under that incredulous gaze. "No." I should 
probably have said "Not yet," but over the years I've found it
useful to  withhold that little tidbit. It lets me compare notes on
the sly.

Chakotay rubbed the back of his neck; he seemed a little unsure how
to  answer, but finally he shrugged and said, "Nothing too
elaborate. You  looked like you'd had a few too many, so I walked
you back to your  cabin. You wanted to show me the gift, I closed my
eyes, the next thing I  knew we were chained together. The comm
system was down, so we had a  brief conversation and went to sleep.
End of story."

The slide of those dark eyes away from mine warned me there was more
to  it than that. "What did we talk about?"

I couldn't believe it; Chakotay blushed. It was hard to see between
the  low lights and his bronze skin but the patches of red on his
cheeks  were undeniable. I also couldn't believe my reaction.

Sly, glance-from-under-the-lashes coyness doesn't do a thing for me. 
But having the powerful, stoic Maquis Warrior reveal a trace of
bashful  shyness turned me on like nobody's business. My cock
*definitely* liked  the hint of vulnerability, and the rest of my
body heartily agreed. I  was so busy struggling to stay on my side
of the bed I almost missed his  answer.

"It was just, uh, things we'd seen on Voyager, maybe a few things we 
might like to do someday." Chakotay had obviously decided that his
safest  strategy was to say as little as possible. I really, really
wanted to  remember for myself, but screwing my eyes shut in
concentration only  made them sting even more. My grimace was a mix
of frustration and genuine  discomfort.

"Are you all right?" Chakotay's soft voice soothed my ears even as
his  hand on my shoulder relaxed my muscles. I opened my eyes to see
concern  tightening his features. For some reason that warmed my
insides, easing  my pain even more.

"Hangover," I explained, and couldn't stop a short slide closer to 
Chakotay so those kneading fingers could reach my neck. I don't
think  either of us noticed that I was now getting a one-handed
massage as we  stared at each other.

I couldn't read the expression in Chakotay's eyes. He seemed to be 
uncertain, for I'd swear his mouth opened to speak then was firmly
clamped  shut. Then he dropped his gaze and licked his lips, and
shit I wanted  that tongue in *my* mouth.

My body was halfway across the reduced space between us before I
caught  myself, jerking back with an involuntary whimper at the
effort to  re-balance my heavy head while mentally shouting all the
reasons that  kissing Chakotay would be a *very bad idea*. I
whimpered again when those  warm caressing fingers left abruptly. I
wasn't ready for the loss. I  hadn't gotten to the part of the
lecture where being touched by him was also  a no-no.

I looked to see that comforting hand had retreated to join its 
counterpart in grasping Chakotay's elbows. He seemed to be sitting a
little  straighter, maybe more stiffly. I know his voice matched
perfectly.

"The Doc is supposed to be sending you some relief for your
symptoms.  If you let us go I can get the replicator to cough it up
now rather than  later."

"Oh, yeah, sure." I fumbled over to the keypad once more and punched
in  my cabin number. Fortunately it worked. Apparently I didn't have
time  last night to shift the code to something more elaborate.
Otherwise we'd  have had to wait for my brain to spit out the info
or call for help. It  was bad enough *Chakotay* knew I'd chained him
up in some drunken  flight of fancy. No way we'd live down the
humiliation if anyone else found  out.

I sighed as the cuffs popped open, then just watched as Chakotay
slid  out of bed and immediately went to the replicator. I could
tell from the  pull of his shirt across his back that he was tense.
I didn't know what  to do. Apologize for handcuffing him? Say I'm
sorry for not remembering  I did it? Or just keep my mouth shut to
not make things worse? If I'm  lucky at least our professional
relationship will survive unaffected.  Our barely-there personal one
was at risk and I wanted it intact. I just  couldn't bear to lose
it. I scuttled down to sit at the foot of the bed  and hunched
miserably.

My downcast eyes got another good look at Chakotay's gorgeous gams
and  cute feet as he stopped in front of me. I felt the light brush
of a  hypospray on my neck and my head almost immediately felt
better. The  nervous clench of my stomach had a different cause,
though, so the hangover  remedy didn't work on that.

A tawny hand showed up next, this one holding a tall glass of water. 
"You're dehydrated, Tom, so drink up."

I took the glass and lifted my eyes. Chakotay's shoulders were less 
tense, and his expression was more relaxed. Whatever had been
bothering  him, he'd obviously made a decision or gotten over it or
figured it  wasn't worth the indigestion. He gestured with his other
hand, which was  holding the used hypospray and a toothbrush. "Mind
if I use your  bathroom?" he asked, brows raised.

"Knock yourself out," I replied flippantly as I straightened. Since 
Chakotay seemed to have chosen to forget whatever happened, it was
time to  resume our regularly scheduled roles, which called for the
Flyboy to  make his appearance on the scene.

The second that beautiful bod disappeared though, I went back to my 
slump. I couldn't shake the feeling that being in the dark about
last  night was a really bad thing. And I was sure that I'd gotten
all I would  from the other member of my personal chain gang. I
grunted and drank the  water. Until my fuzzy memory decided to focus
I wouldn't have a clue.

I stood, stretched, and moved to set the glass on the desk. I dug
out a  fresh towel and washcloth and found my robe. Luckily for me I
only had  a half-shift today, leaving plenty of time for a long hot
shower. After  that I would be ready to get back to the business of
being Tom Paris,  playboy and pilot extraordinaire.

Chakotay came out looking wonderfully fresh. Despite the lack of a 
shower he still smelled good too as I shuffled by him on the way to
my own  clean-up. At the bathroom door I stopped and turned.

Brown eyes questioned my pause as Chakotay straightened from where
he  was gathering his clothes. "Are you all right, Tom?" he asked.

"Are *we* all right, Chakotay?" I really had to know.

I received a nod and a bright warm smile. It unknotted my gut and I 
leaned against the doorway a moment in relief. I bit my lip,
wondering if  I should seize the moment by seizing the man and
kissing him senseless.

Telling myself sternly that I had better start using my brain for
sober  realities instead of drunken dreams, I walked into the
bathroom. Maybe  what I really needed to do was soak my head.

I managed to keep from running out of the shower to tackle Chakotay
and  prevent him from leaving. And do some other interesting things
while we  were both conveniently lying on the floor. By the time I
turned the  water off I was resenting my own willpower.

The toothbrush soon got rid of the slime and the mud and whatever
else  had been noxiously coating my mouth. As I rinsed and spit one
last time  I suddenly remembered what happened last night.
Everything that  happened.

I lifted my face to stare at the stunned fellow in the mirror. Yep,
he  looked like his slightly bloodshot blue eyes were popping right
out of  his wet blond head.

Chakotay simply offered to see a tipsy colleague home and I
slathered  myself all over him like peanut butter on toast. Both on
the road and  again after I chained him to my bed---and to me. Then
I clued him in on  what went on in my favorite personal bedtime
stories. And last but not  least I spilled my
now-ready-to-puke-with-horror guts about why I lusted  after him.
And how it really wasn't lust at all.

SHITSHItSHitShitshit. I couldn't believe how depressed I got when I 
realized he didn't take me up on my blatant offer. I mean, I know he 
wouldn't try anything. But he didn't try *anything*. Not even one
little  kiss.

My eyes were stinging again but this time a hypospray wouldn't help.
My  robe was practically falling off my dejected shoulders as I
skulked  back in the bedroom to pull out my uniform and begin what
was going to be  the worst day of my life.

I didn't get two steps past the doorway before I found myself yanked 
into a strong embrace. Ripe, lush, full, rosy lips were on mine,
kissing  me like there was no tomorrow. And damn, they were warm and
soft and  sweet. When they parted to invite me further I sank into a
pool of hot  wet minty goodness.

My head automatically tilted for deeper access as my hands ran down 
Chakotay's back to where they knew his ass was despite the cover of
his  trousers. Those luscious globes overspilled my grip but I just
held on  tighter and welcomed the low moan that rose from a bronze
throat to sail  down mine.

I returned it with interest when very knowing fingers slid to check
out  my buns for freshness. A solid squeeze made me wriggle in
pleasure,  encouraging more explorations.

Instead, Chakotay backed off, dropping his hands, licking and
sucking  my lips a moment before he let them go. I stared into his
big brown  loving terrified eyes as he took a deep breath and
blurted, "Look, you may  not remember this but last night you said
you wanted me and that you  wanted to be mine. And, well, I'd like
that too. That is, I like you.  More than like you. A lot. And I was
hoping you would give us a chance."  He ran out of breath and stood
still. He looked scared stiff.

"And you waited until now to mention it because...?" I was bursting 
with excitement and happiness and lust and love and, honestly,
curiosity.  Also I wanted to make the Big Man sweat a moment, since
I knew I'd be  squirming years from now when the grandkids asked us
the story of how we  got together.

He blushed again. Yum. I couldn't wait to see how far below his
collar  that rosy tint went. "Well, to be honest, it was your
breath. I knew I  was going to kiss you, even if you slugged me for
it, but frankly we  both needed some time with a toothbrush first."
He tilted his chin. "So,  are you going to slug me?"

"Nope, I'm going to buy you a drink." I laughed at Chakotay's
suddenly  confused expression. "Coffee. Or tea. In the Mess Hall.
Maybe with  breakfast?" By the end I knew my voice was as hopeful as
my pathetically  wide eyes. I also knew I wasn't going to give a
shit if people *did* look  at me funny. As long as Chakotay kept
looking at me like he was now,  with love and happiness. He really
does have an amazing smile.

"It's a date," he said with a last quick kiss, "Just give me fifteen 
minutes to shower and change." Then he turned to leave and I watched
that  fine ass head out the door. I sighed blissfully. This was the
best day  of my life.

"Oh and Tom?" Chakotay paused to look over his shoulder at me with a 
mischievous grin. "Keep the handcuffs." He winked.

I gulped.

THE END