by arachne

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the ship and the characters. The story is mine.

WARNING: This is a C/P story rated NC-17. That’s right. Chakotay, Paris, sex. If this offends you please bale out now.

Between Earth and Sky is loosely intended as a sequel to a short frothy piece I wrote titled Between Decks. This, while rather longer, is equally light-hearted.

A tip of the hat - and apologies - to Anne and to Moondancer who kindly volunteered to beta read for me. Neither will recognise a word of this story but the original sequel I sent them was so awful I was embarrassed into writing a replacement&ldots;

Now, on with the show..

Sandrines must be crowded tonight. Chakotay could hear the hum of conversation even before he entered the program. He hesitated for a moment, breathing in the smell of smoke and stale wine and listening to the drift of voices, then swung open the doors and stepped inside.

Sandrine looked up at his arrival. Ignoring the line of people waiting to be served , she immediately emerged from behind the bar and sashayed across the room to greet him with a kiss on each cheek. . “Commander Chakotay. What a charming surprise, we don’t see you here often enough.” She linked her arm through his and steered him firmly to the front of the queue.

Oh the privileges of rank, although judging by the predatory looks Sandrine was giving him, Chakotay couldn’t be sure that rank was in the forefront of the proprietress’s mind. He signalled that she should serve the other customers and gazed idly round the room, letting his thoughts wander while he waited his turn.

Not for the first time Chakotay wondered about the appeal of Sandrines. A seedy bar with even seedier patrons. What was it that had so enraptured Tom Paris that the first holoprogram he created was a back street drinking house from one of France’s rougher ports? Chakotay, like most of those he had discussed the matter with, had recreated home, or as near an approximation as he manage, with his initial program. The idea that Paris, who had grown up in the very lap of luxury should call this place home was too ludicrous even to be laughable. But there it was. And there was no denying that, with the exception of the helm, Tom was more relaxed here than he appeared at any other place on Voyager.

Paris was here now. No surprises about that, or the fact that his companion was Harry Kim. The two men were playing pool, Tom leaning gracefully over the table to take a shot while Harry patiently sipped a beer. Also present were a smattering of junior officers from Astrophysics and Stellar Cartography. The two departments were mainly staffed by young single crew members, who gravitated to Sandrines most evenings to relax and unwind..

The remaining patrons were drawn from the ranks of the former Maquis. That was unusual. And it explained Chakotay’s presence tonight. His old crew were holding one of their occasional get-togethers . They’d invited Chakotay as a matter of course and he’d accepted out of a mixture of fellow feeling, and a desire to keep an eye on things. Many of the Maquis had reason to feel dissatisfied with Star Fleet and while the Commander approved of venting feelings, he didn’t want the combination of drink and daredevil words to get out of hand.

The Maquis formed a loose group centred around three tables. Chakotay exchanged greetings and brief work-related comments with some half a dozen of them, then commandeered a table to himself to the side of the main group. That way he was there, but still more or less an observer. He settled back in his chair and took a sip of his mineral water, smiling slightly as he recalled Sandrine’s quiver of outrage at his order. “But no, Commander. Water? That will poison your system. Let me pour you a nice glass of red wine.”

Conversation followed the usual pattern of such get-togethers. Initial griping, focused mainly on Tuvok and Paris, which soon turned into reminiscing. Chakotay didn’t contribute to the conversation. In truth he had little patience for such talk.. What was the point? If and when Voyager got back to the Alpha Quadrant, things would be very different from the world they left behind. He tuned out the conversation and began a slow survey of the other customers.

 There was Jenny Delany flirting expertly with three men, juggling them with no more difficulty than if they had been plastic balls. She looked up and caught his eye. Chakotay clapped silently. She grinned cheekily, blithely ignoring the sarcasm and accepting the gesture as a tribute to her skill. Chakotay grinned back but Jenny missed it having turned her attention back to her swains.

Chakotay looked away. His attention now caught by the pool table. He watched for a few minutes. It didn’t take an expert to see that Paris was wiping the floor with Ensign Kim.

Tom was on a roll. Always a good player, he played even better when he was unsettled or upset. Tonight he was both. Sandrines was packed with Maquis glaring and making sotto voce comments whenever they passed. Well he was used to that. And usually he could laugh it off. What made the difference was the presence of Chakotay, sitting alone at a table like some sort of royalty. He was with the Maquis, he must be aware of their hassling tactics but he did nothing. Yeah, right, thanks for nothing Commander. So much for that famous sense of fair play.

He lined up the pool cue and shot, breathing out a soft “Ha,” as the ball slid neatly into a pocket. Harry grimaced and took another sip of his drink. Playing pool with Tom was a bit of a misnomer. So often it seemed that Tom played and his hapless partner looked on.

Tom sunk the black. Game. “Sorry Harry. I win again.”

“Oh. Big Surprise!” Harry pantomimed disbelief. “Guess that means the next round’s on me. Same again?”

Tom nodded. Harry went to the bar, followed by Jackson, a former Maquis, who just happened to stumble heavily into Paris. Tom set him straight with an angelic smile and a hand under the ribs that would leave bruises. “You should look where you’re going. You could get hurt running into people like that.” Tom pushed the man away. And Jackson half stumbled back to his table. There was a muttering then Chakotay leaned over and said something. The muttering subsided and the Commander stood up.

“Lieutenant Paris.”

“Evening Commander.” Tom drawled the greeting insultingly. At this point he wanted Chakotay to say something cautionary. Any excuse. His sense of ill-usage would have welcomed the opportunity to take a swing at the Commander. Chakotay watched him, sensing the other man’s frustration. If it had been anyone else but Paris he would have sympathised profusely, as it was Paris he felt irrationally that the pilot was largely to blame for the hostility he encountered. Brown eyes met blue for a long minute. Stand off. Then Tom’s sense of humour kicked in and the sparkle reanimated his features.. There were more ways than the physical to win a fight. He changed tack, aware the Chakotay would appreciate - and intensely dislike - the tactics.

 “Soooo Chakotay. ” He stretched the words out for several seconds. “When’s it going to be?”

“When what?” asked Chakotay temporarily wrong footed by the abrupt conversational opening. A wicked grin slid across Tom’s features. The Commander caught on. Anger bubbled, along with a sense of weary inevitability. Oh shit. Not this again.

“Our date, of course,” Tom elaborated, adding with a mock pout, “It’s not nice to lead a guy on.”

 Chakotay’s eyes narrowed. Tom had been playing this game for weeks now. Ever since the two of them had got stuck in a turbo lift and he had rashly tried to unsettle the younger man with a quip about only expecting sex on the second date. Since then Tom couldn’t leave it alone.. It hadn’t been funny the first time. It still wasn’t funny. Enough was enough.

 “OK.” He said.

“What?” Amazement filtered through the amusement.

“You heard me. OK. It’s a date. Tomorrow, eight o clock, I’ll meet you at Holodeck 2.”

“Suits me Commander,” Tom was in control again. The blue eyes sparkled laughter and derision. “But are you sure you really want me? I mean I wouldn’t want to force you into anything you didn’t want to do.”

“Backing out Lieutenant?” A softly drawled challenge.

 “Not a chance.”

“Chance of what?” This from Harry who had returned from the bar bearing two glasses and a brimming pitcher of beer.

 “Nothing,” said Chakotay shortly, turning on his heel and heading back to his table where he was soon absorbed into the general Maquis group. Tom watched him go then bent over the table and began reracking the balls with exaggerated concentration.

“Chance of what?” repeated Harry suspicion edging his tone. “Tom, Is something going on between you and Chakotay?”

“Sure Harry,” Tom answered, still rearranging the balls. “You know how well we get on. The Commander was just asking me out for a date.”

Harry gave a crack of laughter. Date indeed! He knew that tone, it meant that whatever it was Chakotay wanted Tom wasn’t telling. Oh well. He picked up his beer and prepared for a long wait as Tom lined up his cue and began the break.


Chakotay stood waiting at the Holodeck. Hovering really. What was he hoping for? Last night, in his quarters, he’d attempted to analyse his feelings for Paris. Tried to explain the sheer physical hostility that arose whenever they came into contact. It didn’t make sense. He’d sat for several hours trying to make sense of what he knew to be a largely unjustified grudge against the lieutenant. And come up with nothing. Paradoxically, this lack of answers had only served to irritate him more.

He’d toyed briefly with the idea of cancelling the engagement but in the end decided to go ahead with it. Whatever else, this would be an opportunity to for him and Paris, to spend some time together. Get to know each other. And, apart from anything else, no way was he going to give Paris the satisfaction of winning this war of words.

And the sex thing? He’d issued Tom a challenge. And Tom was a gambler. His breathing quickened even as his mind shied away from the thought.

Tom arrived precisely on time. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black sweatshirt. He waved a languid hand in greeting.

  The Commander looked him up and down slowly. The tight jeans molded to the curve of ass and the black tee shirt set off the far colouring and the blue of Tom’s eyes. Yes, he did look good. The effect was only spoiled by his obvious awareness of the fact.

Tom flushed, more flustered than he’d like to be by the intensity of the survey. Not for the first time he envied Chakotay his darker colouring. He launched into what Harry had dubbed the Paris patter, speaking slightly too fast, to pass over the sudden awkwardness. “Will I do? I didn’t know what to wear? I mean, Commander, I like to look good for my dates but without some idea about where you were taking me it was a little difficult to know what to put on.”

Tom stopped. Then without warning, he went into attack, mimicking the slow up and down gaze that Chakotay had given him. The Commander was dressed in grey track pants and a red sweatshirt. Giving little away. Tom took his time, Chakotay hadn’t moved a muscle but Tom could tell he’d had to exercise considerable self-control to remain still under the scrutiny. “You win,” he said at last. “I still can’t guess, am I dressed OK or do you want me to go back to my quarters and get changed?”

 “No you’ll do. Might get a little cold but I can adjust the temperatures

Tom smiled. His first genuine reaction since arriving. “Now I know we’re not going to run one of B’Elanna’s Klingon training program. I gotta admit I was afraid you were planning on beating the crap out of me simply to prove a point.”

Chakotay was visibly offended. “Do you think I’d do that? Really?”

Hesitation. “No.”

“You don’t sound very convinced.” Chakotay smiled, a sudden flash of humour. “Relax flyboy, if I wanted to deck you I’d just do it, I don’t need B’Elanna’s program to help me.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, immediately on the defensive again.. “Don’t take anything for granted, Commander. Size isn’t everything when it comes to a fight.”

For a moment they measured each other. Then Chakotay recovered himself with an effort. Whoa. What was happening here? Date. Fun. Get to know each other. Establish a working relationship. He held up a hand. “Pax. No fighting. Not tonight,” When Tom still looked unconvinced, he added lightly, “Trust me. No fighting, no tricks . It’s a tribal thing.”

Tom grinned, responding to the tone. “OK. So you’re not going to try and pulverise me with some kind of martial arts program - and don’t tell me you weren’t tempted. - what are we going to do?”

Chakotay keyed in the program and engaged the privacy lock. Instantly the holodeck was transformed. The bare metal walls taking on the aura of a Constable painting with the hazy golden sunshine of late “- trying to seduce you. I called your bluff because if I didn’t I really would have decked you. But that’s all. I planned this evening to see if we could get past this hostility thing and have some kind of working relationship.”

“And can we?” The tone was milder now, not angry but distant.

“I don’t know.”


Chakotay’s glance was wry. “Because now I really want to fuck you.”

Silence. Blue eyes met brown and held as each tried to read the other’s unspoken thoughts. Then Tom’s face softened. He broke the contact and turned to the cylinder slowing the flame. Almost immediately they began losing height.

Chakotay raised his eyebrows. Tom had obviously come to some sort of decision. But what?

 “If you want to leave all you have to do is disengage the programme.”

Tom sought his eyes again. Impossible to read the expression on his face. “Dammit Chakotay. Why d’you always have to attribute the worst of motives to me?” Without waiting for a reply he continued “I’m taking us down. When we get down. We’ll have sex - because, surprising as it might seem, we both seem to want to. And after that, well, who knows?”

The landing was perfect. Chakotay, whose experience of ballooning had taught him that two out of three landings involved a great deal of bumping and bruising, if not broken bones, was properly impressed. Tom accepted his compliments graciously. “Hey Commander. It’s still flying. Flying is one of the two things in life I do well.”

“And the other?” Even before he spoke Chakotay knew the answer. But Tom had fed him the line so neatly he could hardly refuse to pick it up.

Tom grinned. “Let me tell you about the other.”

Chakotay gathered him to him. There was going to be some heavy mediation tomorrow but right now hormones had won out over higher thought. He kissed Tom until the laughter died out of his eyes, pulled him down to the ground and spoke in a voice rough with desire, “I’d rather you gave a practical demonstration.”

“Whatever you want.” Tom said amiably, gently tracing the lines of Chakotay’s tattoo with a finger. , “Whatever you want.” This time the words were spoken softly, with no trace of humour.

And amazingly it was.

Lips and hands were everywhere. I must be mad thought Chakotay. Making out with Tom Paris! Gods, apart from anything else the guy was one of hus junior officers. He banished the doubts. There was something much more important to think about. Much more immediate. What was it? If only Tom would remove his mouth from around his cock he might be able to think again. Or maybe not.

“Lubricant,” said Chakotay urgently, sitting up with a groan. “It’s here somewhere.”

He began to grope vaguely around their discarded clothes. Tom beat him, fishing in the pocket of his jeans and producing a small tube. “Here, he said tossing it to Chakotay.

Chakotay caught the tube. “How come-“

Tom grinned, then bit a lip to stifle a moan as Chakotay started finger fucking him. “I was planning,” he gasped “on taunting you with it. What’s your explanation?”

“More or less the same,” agreed Chakotay adding a second then a third finger. Spirits. This was wonderful. Much better than mediation. It would have to be now, if he fingered Tom much longer he was going to come from just watching other man, hearing him moan.

“Tom?” he gasped.

It was the last word either spoke for some time. Who’d have thought selfish, arrogant, out for himself Tom Paris would prove such a generous lover. Licking, kissing, biting and at the end surrendering with such selfless abandon. But then, thought Chakotay, he’d been so focused on Tom’s reactions, the clench of Tom’s ass muscles around his cock as he thrust back and forth, the uncontrollable shivers as he stroked his erection and then, finally, the sound and wet heat of Tom’s orgasm triggering his own; it was difficult to see who was possessing whom.

They got dressed almost immediately. “I should get going,” said Tom evasively. “Early shift tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Chakotay agreed.

The program disengaged leaving them alone in the empty holodeck. . Tom looked at him, his face and body relaxed with post-coital languor, hair ruffled from wind and Chakotay’s fingers but his eyes were cautious. He spoke carefully. “So Commander, what happens now?”

Chakotay took his time replying. The question had been serious and deserved a serious answer. Trouble was he didn’t know what the answer should be. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess that depends on you.”

Tom nodded as if satisfied. Then he responded lightly, the familiar mischief once again threading his voice. “Of course, it’s not polite to make me do all the chasing. . If you want a third date Chakotay you’re going to have ask me properly.”

Chakotay began to key in the opening sequence for the holodeck door . He could have asked the computer to open them but this gave him something to do. Something to focus on that wasn’t tall and blond. A soft hum greeted the success of his efforts. He looked up but Tom was already gone.


September 1997