So, there he was at nineteen hundred hours; and when the door opened, there was Chakotay, in civilian clothes. Looking a little green.

Paris's eyes met his, and suddenly the air seemed to heat. Paris watched the color rise in Chakotay's face as the warmth rose in Chakotay's eyes.

"I'm finding out," Paris said.

Chakotay's mouth quirked. "The one time," he said, "you actually fucking listen to me."

Well, shit--they were back to that. Paris turned. "I'm not playing this--"

Chakotay's hand on his arm stopped him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just keep putting my foot right into it when it comes to you, don't I?"

Yeah; you do. Paris let Chakotay tug him into the cabin, stood right beside the door as it closed.

They both stood there a minute. Chakotay looked jumpy.

Get this out of the way, Paris's brain said clearly. Then you can fuck him and go home. "What the hell is it with you?" he said. "Commander," he added.

Chakotay blinked. "It's just 'Chakotay' here," he said.

"Well, then, what the hell is it with you?" Paris said. "Chakotay." Damn; his voice was shaking with hurt.

Chakotay looked stricken. "I--" he said. He took a breath. "I-- Damn it, Tom. I can't seem to get myself past our ... history."

Oh, great. "Then why the hell did you invite me here?"

"You keep ... catching me off guard." Chakotay's eyes were softer than Paris had ever seen them. "You keep reminding me of-- You know," he said with the air of a man taking a plunge, "the moment I saw you, I wanted you. You were brash and unsure of yourself and talented as hell and damned eager to please somebody you could trust. Of course, you were drunk as shit. I've always tried not to take advantage, though in your case--" The warmth was coming back into his eyes at the memory. "--I was ready to make an exception. But you were Starfleet. And back then I wouldn't have put it past them to publicly cashier out one of their own to plant him in the Maquis."

"Oh, I did that all by myself." Paris felt the old pain rising.

"I know," Chakotay said. "Now. But then I was just mad at everything--especially myself. I let myself get cut off from my heritage; and I let my father get killed; and--" His mouth twisted wryly. "--I'd just generally managed to fuck up everything that mattered."

Paris's jaw dropped. Chakotay feeling like a fuck-up?

"So there you were," Chakotay was saying. "You'd had everything, and--shit, Tom, you were every damn thing I wanted in a Maquis warrior. In a lover. And I couldn't even trust you. And then ... you let yourself get caught--"

Now, WAIT a minute. "I didn't let myself get captured!" Paris snarled.

"Well, it sure looked like it from this angle!" Chakotay's voice had hardened.

"That piece of shit you had me flying didn't help!"

"I thought you could fly any damn thing in the galaxy. Isn't that what you told me?"

They glared at each other.

Then, in the evening, he went back to sickbay, where Chakotay had just wakened. He was propped on his elbows, face all creased from resting on something wrinkled, with that grumpy frown he always got when he thought he shouldn't have been sleeping. Big grumpy bear.

Tom went over and tousled his hair, which the big grumpy bear never liked, but let Tom get away with. Chakotay grinned up at him sort of lopsidedly--the grump knowing he was being a grump and a little sheepish about it. He sat up, and Tom's arms went around him automatically.

They were that way for a minute, Tom nuzzling Chakotay's cheek. He smelled wonderfully of sleep and of warm Chakotay, and Tom found himself smiling.

"I'm okay," Chakotay murmured.

I know, Tom thought; but he didn't say it. Instead, he let his hands and lips say it for him, caressing the smooth face.

"I'm sorry," Chakotay murmured. Tom looked at him. He seemed contrite. "Do I get that look on my face when you get hurt?"

What look was that? "Probably."

"I'm sorry," Chakotay said again. His fingertips just brushed Tom's face. "Got everything shipshape?"

"Yeah." Funny conversation to be feeling all dopey and soppy about. "Even with you in sickbay. Imagine that."

"I hate sleeping all day," Chakotay said.

"I know." Tom grinned at him, knowing the answer to what he was about to ask. "Why did you?"

Chakotay's grin was sly. "You gave me that look."

"What look?"

"The one that says, 'Cross me, and I'll take you home and wallop you.'"

Tom grinned at him, leaned in. "I'm taking you home now," he said huskily.

Chakotay slid his fingers up the back of Tom's neck and pulled his head down for a lazy kiss with a lot of promises in it. "We could do the walloping part, too," he whispered into Tom's ear, "if you want."

Tom laughed.

"What the hell else was I supposed to believe?" Chakotay hissed. "How the hell was I supposed to believe you hadn't betrayed us? betrayed me?"

But he didn't just look mad, he looked ... hurt. As hurt as Paris felt. He took a deep breath. "I didn't betray you," he murmured, looking deep into the deep eyes. "I wouldn't betray you."

Deep, angry breath. "Well, you sure were doing your best when I found you on Voyager."

"You didn't-- Nobody helped me. You said I was part of the team--I could be part of the team. But you didn't-- I got captured, and that was just fucking it. Prison. Nobody. No help at all!"

Chakotay looked aghast. Then he looked uncomfortable, ashamed. "We couldn't-- I'm so sorry. They had us on the run. I couldn't do a damn thing. Shit, Tom, I'm so fucking sorry. I thought...." His voice trailed off.

Paris let the silence stretch. "You thought, What the hell--Starfleet once is Starfleet forever. Admiral's son--why the hell wouldn't he betray the Maquis? Why wouldn't he just get welcomed back into the bosom of Starfleet?" Deep breath, to quell the shaking in his voice. "You thought wrong, Chakotay."

"I'm sorry." Chakotay's mouth had softened. The fingertips of one hand slid over the back of Paris's fist, gentle, tentative. "I'm sorry, Tom."

And, shit, he seemed to mean it. Paris felt the hurt and anger beginning to seep out. But how the hell did they get to bed from here?

They were about 15 centimeters apart, swaying closer. The look in Chakotay's eyes; the brush of his fingers. The heat from that solid body. That kind of mixture could make a guy feel drunk.

Paris brought his mouth close to Chakotay's ear. "So," he murmured, "we gonna fuck, or what?"

Explosion of Chakotay's laugh. They leaned into each other. Chakotay's hand took Paris's; he nuzzled Paris's neck. "Shit, Tom," he said. "Smooth line like that--no wonder the ladies can't resist you."

Paris grinned. Oh my god, had anyone's skin ever smelled so good?

"I'm kind of ... wound up, though," Chakotay murmured. "I don't jump as fast as I used to from 'fuck you' to 'fuck me.'"

Paris laughed shakily. "I don't either," he admitted. "You know, I wanted you the minute I saw you. I took one look at you in that crappy little bar, and I was ready to drop my pants and bend right over the table."

Chakotay grinned. "As I recall, there were three Nausicaans and half a dozen Klingons there who probably would have made a beeline for your ass. I'd've had to fight 'em off." A spark of lust and mischief. "I'd've won, too."

Paris ran the tip of his tongue along Chakotay's lower lip. Delicious. He sucked on that lip for an exquisite second or two; and then Chakotay put a hand on Paris's back and drew him in for long, languid, thorough, knee-rattling kiss. Paris was dizzy at the end of it. Chakotay was gasping air.

"There were," Paris murmured, starting on Chakotay's ear lobe, "some Vulcans there, too. If I remember right."

Chakotay's moan turned his knees to water. Chakotay ran his mouth over Paris's neck, clutched his ass in a way both possessive and promising.

"They'd've--" Chakotay groaned as Paris's hand found his crotch. "--just probably have taken--" His gasp made Paris's hips jerk. "--notes."

"Okay." Paris tried to focus. "You better fuck me now, or it's over."

Chakotay grinned, made a sudden movement that stripped Paris's shirt from his body and left it halfway across the room. "Made the jump, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." Paris started walking him backward toward the bed. Damn, it was great: a good, hard fuck.

Chakotay grinned wider. "Giving orders, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." Paris did some stripping of his own. Chakotay's shirt landed somewhere.

"I'm not fucking you, Paris." Chakotay's hands undid Paris's trousers, jerked them down far enough for Chakotay to grab a double handful of Paris's ass.

Paris kissed him. "You're not?"

"Huh uh." Chakotay stopped. "I want to see your face as you surrender completely to my amazing talent." He grinned as Paris undid his trousers, yanked them down.

"Shit," Paris said, putting his hand on that hot, thick cock, "I'd rather surrender completely to your amazing cock. Why the hell," he said, falling to his knees, "didn't you just fuck me when we first met?" And he slipped his mouth over the head.

For a delirious minute he sucked with happy abandon, hearing Chakotay keening above him, feeling fingers in his hair, working his own cock with a frantic hand. Nothing had ever felt more perfect.

"Don't." Chakotay's thumb worked its way into Paris's mouth; for a second, he sucked it, too. "Don't," in a breathless gasp.

Paris pulled away. Chakotay's face was almost savage as he bent down, pulled Paris up, shoved him onto the bed.

Okay, so-- Paris lifted his feet, started taking off one boot as Chakotay yanked on the other. Their hands met at Paris's waistband; the trousers and underwear landed someplace.

Stripping off Chakotay's pants was less complicated, but more distracting: no shoes, but, ohgod, there was that delicious cock at mouth level, just begging to be licked. Chakotay made a little sound of frustration and trampled off his trousers.

He dove for Paris, grabbed him at the waist, hauled him further onto the bed. Paris worked his way backward, eyes on that gorgeous cock. He lifted his knees, spread them wide. He would burst any minute.

"Ohgod, fuck me," he moaned. "Just fuck me. Right up the ass. Hard."

"No." Chakotay's face was adamant. He slid between Paris's legs, thrust his cock against Paris's. Paris arched helplessly, wrapped his legs around Chakotay's waist, thrust, thrust against Chakotay's belly. "Not until ... I can do it ... right."

Oh, right, wrong, it didn't fucking matter any more. The world had shrunk to those hot cocks sliding against each other, to Chakotay's grunts in Paris's ear, to the whimpering noises that seemed to be coming from Paris's mouth. He grabbed something with both hands, hung on.

A moment of riding.

And then Paris felt everything surge into his cock for a blinding explosion--every damn thing: Chakotay's growl, the smell of hot sweat and hotter semen, the taste of salty skin, the heat, the heat--

His fucking fury that this sweetbastard sonofabitch could be so fucking stubborn. The deep-rooted pain of everyone's mistrust.

It all must have been in there, because--well, it was gone when he came back into himself, gasping, clutching--

"Ow," Chakotay said.

"Sorry," Paris said, letting go of his hair. "Shit!"

"Sorry," Chakotay said. He kissed Paris's shoulder, worked himself off.

Paris looked. No blood. "A biter, huh?" he said, grinning at Chakotay.

Who blushed. "I kind of," he said, "forget myself." He kissed the marks again.

"I don't mind biters," Paris said. "As long as it's friendly."

"Oh," Chakotay said, "it's friendly."

They grinned at each other, gasping. Damn--flushed, mouth soft with kissing--Chakotay post-coital was a sight worth waiting for.

Chakotay's fingers found the side of Paris's face, traced the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw, did it again, again; his eyes were tender. Paris's heart stumbled. Had anyone ever looked at him like that? Migod, he had to get out of here, or he was lost. He had to get out of here now.

"I guess I better leave," he heard himself say.

Chakotay didn't even flinch, just kept looking, caressing. "Why?" he asked. "I know your schedule. You're not on duty tomorrow."

Self preservation, Paris thought desperately.

"Besides," Chakotay said in a low, silky voice, "I know you really want to stay."

Oh, god, now. He needed to get out of here now.

"And," Chakotay said huskily, "I really want you to stay."

Nowwwww--

But he leaned into that caressing hand, turned his head; and put a kiss into the palm. A sharp intake of breath from Chakotay. Paris couldn't look. Chakotay slid his fingers over Paris's mouth, lingering. It was a caress; it was a kiss; it was more than he'd counted on when he walked in here.

It was more than he needed.

It was just what he wanted.

So they went home, where there was no walloping. Instead, Chakotay took a shower. Then Tom fed him and then Tom fucked him, tenderly and thoroughly, gazing down into the avid face until Chakotay clutched the sheet and cried out words and bits of words, and bucked in orgasm; then Tom rode that orgasm into his own, almost as an afterthought.

"Shit," Chakotay panted. "I just showered."

Tom laughed. "Yeah. But now you smell so--" He trailed his fingers over Chakotay's cheek.

They lay like that, in that comfortable after-fuck glow that slowed things down so that Tom could enjoy them.

He turned to Chakotay, who slid his fingers to knead the back of Paris's neck. In Chakotay's eyes were mingled tenderness and amusement. And exasperation. "Damn it, Tom," he said, "how much time did we waste?"

"How," Paris said, "do you want that calculated?"

Smart ass, Chakotay's look said; but MY smart ass, his fingers murmured.

"Now, if we'd done that," Paris went on, "when we first met, I bet even the Vulcans would've lined up to enjoy your considerable talents."

Chakotay's grinned a thanks. "I'm not trying it with Tuvok," he said.

Bantering. Who the hell would have thought they'd be lying here after sex, bantering?

Chakotay leaned over and kissed him. "You've got the prettiest damn mouth," he said.

"And I can't wait to see your gorgeous mouth wrapped around my cock. But then you better fuck me up the ass so hard I see stars, or, damn it, Chakotay," he said in mock earnestness, "I'm reporting you for sexual teasing of a subordinate."

"How can I say no, when you ask so nicely?"

A grin; a kiss. Chakotay moved in to cradle him.

Froze when he saw Paris's face.

"What is it?" Chakotay murmured.

"Nothing." But, "I-- A little sudden, a little ... soon, I guess." Paris looked into the gentle eyes. "It's just-- Are we ... okay with each other? I couldn't stand it if you went back to despising me, Chakotay. Anything could go wrong and you could go right back--"

"That's not going to happen." The warmth in that fervent voice, in that tender gaze made some long-tangled knot inside Paris start to loosen. "That is not going to happen. You've been too much to me." A smile started at the corners of the delicious mouth. "Every possibility branches off into yet another universe, and in every one of them that is not going to happen."

Held by that gaze, Paris felt himself start to relax. His fingers found warm, smooth skin and began to caress it.

"I'm sure," said Chakotay, "there'll be times you'll just annoy the hell out of me, make me want to bust you right down to ensign. And, you put yourself in danger for me again the way you did with that cannibal, and I will. But despising you--there's no way I can ever do that, Tom. I can't imagine any possibility that I could ever do that, in this universe or any of those other ones branching off of it."

Damn. That silky skin, that stubborn uprightness. That bone-melting smile. Paris's fingers moved, and Chakotay sighed pleasure. A long, searching kiss that left him breathless.

And content.

And wanting more.

"I'm sorry," Chakotay said again.

Huh? "About what?"

"About-- You just get this anxious look." Chakotay brushed his fingers across Tom's forehead, along his mouth.

"You getting hurt makes me kind of ... anxious." His voice wasn't shaking as much as it wanted to. "There's so damn much that can go wrong. A phaser bolt hits one millimeter to the wrong side. If you'd been farther in that Jeffries Tube when that conduit blew...."

Chakotay stopped his babbling with a kiss. Tom grabbed him, held on.

"It's all right," Chakotay whispered in his ear. "The universe can be damned arbitrary. And I don't have to tell you that every possibility branches off into yet another universe."

Tom breathed in the heady scent of sex and Chakotay, and felt himself start to relax. Chakotay. At the center of every possibility was Chakotay.

"But I love you," Chakotay went on. "In every possible universe, I love you." He grinned down at Tom. "None of the physicists have figured it out yet, but that's what's holding all those universes together."

Tom laughed up at him. Damn right.

And, "Not a chance," lied Tom.

And, "You bet," said Paris, grinning right back.