The Bet and the Bettor


By Britta

Chakotay sat on a stool at the bar in Sandrine's, and sipped a beer wondering if anything interesting might occur this night. He was getting bored with life in the Delta Quadrant, and he wasn't the only one. Rumblings of discontent could be heard throughout the ship, but there wasn't much he could do about it except monitor the situation.
*
For himself, right now, he would welcome any distraction. Just as this thought made its way to the front of his mental queue, Paris walked in the door. Hmm, things might liven up now that Tom was here. He swivelled around, resting his elbows on the bar and watched as the senior pilot cased the place then wandered over to his best friend, Ensign Kim.
*
The blond leaned down and whispered into Kim's ear, then stood up again quickly as the young Asian man spit beer all over his table. Harry wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and glared up at Tom. The Lieutenant just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, then lifted his hands in mock surrender, and backed away until he bumped into Chakotay's knee.
*
The Commander reached out to steady the man as he jumped when his rump encountered the hardness of a kneecap. Tom whirled around and grinned at him sardonically, saying, "Good evening, Commander."
*
"Good evening, Lieutenant. Care to join me and have a drink?"
*
Paris appeared surprised that he would ask and inquired, "What's the special occasion?"
*
"Nothing special. I would like to know though what you said to Harry to make him react like that." Chakotay motioned for Sandrine to come and take Tom's order while Tom settled on the bar stool to his right.
*
Paris ordered a scotch, then turned to Chakotay and stated, "All I said to Harry was, and I quote, 'Hunting the ever-elusive chocolate starfish tonight?'"
*
Chakotay nearly followed Kim's example, but caught himself in time and swallowed hard instead. He knew Paris expected some sort of shocked reaction, but he refused to take the bait. Instead, he said, as calmly as he could, "How do you come up with such interesting turns of phrase?"
*
Tom looked over at Chakotay and replied smugly, "I just pick a good quote from one of the bards out of the distant past."
*
"Is that so?" Chakotay swigged more of his beer and thought that Tom was full of shit.
*
"Yeah, it is. There's an art to this particular pastime, you know?" Tom's blue eyes and teasing voice invited Chakotay to play his game.
*
Against his better judgement this time, Chakotay decided to go for it and responded, "No. I don't know. Why don't you explain it to me?" He took another sip of his beer.
*
Tom downed a large swallow of his own drink and said, "Look at Harry. Really look at him; see how he's dressed? He's trolling tonight. He wants to get laid, badly."
*
Chakotay raised an eyebrow and took in Ensign Kim's appearance and outward attitude. Tom might be right, or he might be lying through his teeth It was hard to tell with Paris. He took refuge in details and asked, "So which bard did you 'borrow' that quote from?" He turned his back to the Ensign in charge of Ops and faced the bar again.
*
Paris only turned halfway, then leaned forward to stage-whisper, "This quote came from the legendary Don Juan Rubio, a connoisseur of such things who lived in the latter half of the twentieth century."
*
"You made that up." Chakotay laughed and slugged down the last of his beer. "There was no such person."
*
"Like hell there wasn't," Tom riposted at normal volume. "Bet me. I can prove that he existed, Commander."
*
Hmm, this could be fun, thought Chakotay. Tom didn't get riled up like this unless he thought he was being put down for some reason, which usually made his subsequent actions all the more interesting.
*
Chakotay shifted around on his bar stool and peered at the Lieutenant's slightly flushed face. It had been weeks since he'd lost a bet to Tom. Perhaps it was time to lose one again.
*
Paris stared at him, waiting for an answer.
*
He cleared his throat and asked, "The same stakes as last time?"
*
Tom finished his scotch and set the glass down, saying, "Fine with me. One answer to any question and one act of the winner's choice."
*
The Commander stood up, nodded agreement, and inquired, "Your quarters or mine?"
*
"Yours. I want to prove a point," Tom stated flatly.
*
As the younger man rose and followed him home, he had to wonder why they kept playing with each other like this. Once inside his cabin, Chakotay said, "Prove to me that your 'bard' existed."
*
"Yes, sir." Tom moved to the terminal on the desk and punched up a file. Then he rose and gestured for Chakotay to be seated. "See for yourself."
*
He sat down and read a short biography of some long-dead man who claimed to make his living by folding laundry while spewing out nuggets of wisdom between belches to anyone who would listen. Chakotay sighed silently and wondered at this, the lamest of Tom's moves he'd ever encountered in their years-old game. Sooner or later, one of them would have to call it quits and admit the truth.
*
Sighing audibly this time, Chakotay gave in. "Okay, Tom. You win." He shut off the terminal and stood, turning to face the man he lusted after and parried with on a daily basis. "What's your question and what do you want me to do?"
*
Tom moved to stand nose-to-nose with him and replied, "Tell me exactly what the Captain said to Q the last time he visited us and you wound up wearing a tutu on the Bridge."
*
His eyes widened as he recalled that most embarrassing occasion and he blushed a little at the memory. Then his thought processes kicked into gear and he said quietly, "You mean the time when he dressed you in the gold lame evening gown, complete with tiara?"
*
Paris flushed a bit, but went on, his voice becoming lower and more expectant, "Yeah. That time. Tell me what she said, Commander."
*
He could feel Tom's breath on his face, smell the faint scent of booze, and he realized that Tom knew he would have to make up an answer. Blue eyes stared at him and waited, impatience hiding the lust behind the intense gaze.
*
Chakotay said slowly, "She told me that he promised to take the ship home if only she would drop to her knees and suck his omnipotent dick. She also complained that he called her 'Kathy' in the slimiest voice imaginable."
*
Tom placed his lips lightly against Chakotay's and demanded in a whisper, "Those are Q's words. Tell me what Janeway said."
*
He swallowed, nodded once, then mimicked the Captain's voice, "Never! But, if you really want, you can stuff it into my mouth--once I'm dead." Chakotay felt a hiss of air pass over his face as Tom stepped back and gazed at him. He inhaled a deep breath, then continued, "You've had your answer. Now tell me what action you want."
*
Paris stood there like a statue, peering at him in a way that made him feel very uncomfortable. It was almost as if the younger man could read his mind; a concept that scared him. He waited silently, his fear growing, and he observed the thoughts pass through Tom's brain as they were reflected on his face.
*
Suddenly, Tom shot him an evil smile and said, "I want to suck your cock. Drop your pants and don't move."
*
Chakotay did as bidden and stood immobile while Tom made a big show of kneeling in front of him and glancing up from time to time, making sure he could see as well as feel every luscious lick. He watched as Tom turned his head from side to side, displaying his throat muscles working hard, and felt the delicious suction that brought him off quickly, leaving him shaking in his shoes.
*
When it was done, Tom got to his feet and looked him over carefully. The younger man ran his hands around his own crotch, outlining the hefty bulge, and leaned forward to place a soft, semen-flavored kiss on the Commander's lips. Then he said softly, "Maybe next time you'll win, Chakotay."
*
Speechless, he could do nothing but stare as Tom walked out the door.

THE END OF "THE BET AND THE BETTOR"

Comments? Suggestions?
E-mail me at Britta

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The Winner