Solitary Pursuits


By Britta and Kate


The tired First Officer entered his quarters. Gods, what a day. All he wanted now was... "Tom?" There was no answer. He looked around and spied the message Tom had left him, explaining that he would be working late. Damn. He stripped off his jacket and moved to the replicator to order a drink. Scotch tonight. It made him think of Tom.

Leaning back on the sofa, fatigue washed over him in waves. If he never saw another spatial anomaly as long as he lived.... Sipping his drink, he noticed Tom's shirt half wedged between the cushions. He pulled it toward him lazily, smiling at the memory of nearly ripping it off his lover the night before. Neither one had been in any condition to think about hanging up clothes - or anything else, for that matter. Bringing it up to his face, he inhaled deeply. It smelled of Tom, which made his cock twitch.

Taking another sip, he felt the welcome explosion of warmth spread through his body, easing the stiff muscles, relaxing the tension. He dropped the shirt beside him and let one large hand wander down his body, until it rested over his crotch. Memories of last night's activities floated through his mind and it seemed he wasn't as tired as he felt earlier. A few slow rubs, a few more sips, picturing Tom naked and aroused....

He slowly unfastened his pants and his hard cock sprang free of its confinement. He downed the last of his drink and set the glass aside. Pushing his pants down around his knees, he leisurely explored very familiar territory while recalling in vivid detail what Tom had done to him 24 hours earlier.

Tom's lips, locked on his own, tongues duelling for supremacy. After a lengthy, slippery battle, Tom had won. Chakotay didn't mind losing one bit - things always got interesting when Tom called the shots. He stroked his erection with one hand while the other idly rubbed his thighs then slowly dipped down to fondle his balls.

Tom had kissed him, pinned him to the couch using the length of his body. The oral assault was relentless. Tom moved over him licking, nipping lightly. He had his hands running through Tom's hair, down his back and over the lean flanks, stroking any soft skin he could reach.

His breathing speeded up, as did the strokes to his cock. He smiled and again remembered how Tom had reached his aching cock and engulfed it in his mouth. All that warmth, the wetness. Chakotay moaned at the memory and didn't hear the slight swishing sound made by the door opening.

Lost in sensation, Chakotay gripped his cock tighter and leaned against the arm of the couch. He pictured Tom's flushed face, shining eyes and moist lips, all his. His balls tightened.

Tom had sucked him to the edge and held him there for what felt like forever. Then he'd stopped abruptly and ordered him to turn over. Chakotay shivered at the memory, his hand instinctively moving faster, ever faster. He forced himself to pause for a moment, to rub a shaky finger over the head of his weeping cock, coating it with the clear, slick fluid.

He delved again into memory. Tom, breathing harshly in his ear, "I'm going to take you, Commander."

Panting and moaning, Chakotay reached back, around, until the glistening finger found the entrance of his body. Gently brushing the area with his slick finger, he again imagined it was Tom preparing him and the hand wrapped around his cock tightened. Tom had done a thorough job, teasing and tormenting him for an eternity before finally spreading his cheeks wide and thrusting himself inside. Chakotay slipped the tip of his finger inside himself and groaned, his back arching. He twisted his fingertip, slowly, and stroked his cock faster. "Oh Spirits!" Harder. Faster, deeper. His body lifted off the sofa as he writhed in an agony of pleasure. Being fucked into oblivion. Tom in his ass, taking him, owning him. Coming with a shout deep within his body.

At the exquisite memory, he exploded all over his hand, the sofa, his clothes, the floor. The long shuddering spasms took an eternity to play out. Then, with a ragged sigh, he collapsed, trying to remember to breathe. Hoping the room would stop spinning around him.

"Pretty good, Chief! Can anyone play?"

Shocked back to reality, Chakotay whipped his head around. In the doorway stood a wickedly grinning Tom Paris, blue eyes alight with mischief, one hand already moving down toward the swelling in his pants.

The End