"A Question of Perspective"
by Maisie (maisierita@comcast.net)
copyright 2004
(Voy, C/P, 2/2, R/NC-17)
Summary, disclaimer, warnings, etc: See Part 1
Stardate 48751.4
2200 hours
I'm lurking in the hallway. This irritates me because I do not ordinarily lurk, and I resent the fact that I'm doing it now. Chakotay's cabin is a few doors down, but I haven't worked up the nerve to approach it yet. Once I ring the door chime I'm committed, and not in the insane asylum way, though that would probably work out better in the long run. I'm tense and nervous and crazy for even thinking about this, but god, what choice do I really have? Tell the Captain, get the First Officer disciplined? Yeah, that'll go over real well with the Maquis. It'd defeat the purpose entirely, considering that the whole point is to avoid getting my head bashed in.
But hell, there's no point standing around out here. Sooner or later someone will be bound to see me, and that's the last thing I need. The fewer people know about this, the better. I step over toward the door and hit the entry panel. The ring of the door chime, muffled by the door, is followed almost instantly by Chakotay's automatic, "Come in."
The door slides open. I take a few steps into the room but my legs stop moving just past the threshold. Although my brain is committed, my body is apparently not quite in agreement. Chakotay's across the room by the viewport, staring at me in puzzlement, which annoys me, because what the hell right does he have to be puzzled? This was his idea, not mine. I issue a perfunctory, "Commander."
He's still staring at me, mouth slightly open, like I'm a piece of meat ... or a piece of tofu, whatever the hell it is vegetarians crave. I don't want to watch him watching me, so I look everywhere else instead. Nice quarters. Big. Jeez, if this is what they give to the First Officer, I can just imagine what the Captain's quarters must be like.
Chakotay finally deigns to answer me. "Lieutenant," he says evenly. "This is unexpected."
I nod. So that's the way he wants to play it, like this was a decision I made. Or maybe he thinks he's making a joke. Who can tell, with him? He's impossible to read, the way he hides everything away behind that Maquis warrior exterior.
"Is there something I can do for you, Lieutenant?"
I dart a glance at him, but he's still staring at me with that hungry look on his face, and it turns out I'm not as prepared to deal with it as I thought I was. Faced with the reality of it, all I can think of is that I'd rather be just about anywhere else than in this room right now, facing down that ravenous look.
"Nothing," I mutter. "Nothing really. I just ..."
I just ... what? Want him to tell me it's not true? Want him to tell me that the Maquis are having some fun at my expense, poking me like a rabbit and watching me run? Want him to tell me that those looks he's throwing at me don't mean what it's obvious they mean? Hell, what I really want is for this to not be happening. Or, barring that, I want it to be over already so I can go and get properly drunk.
He's looking dryly amused the way he does. Probably finds it funny that he's got me so off balance I can't finish a simple sentence. "Yes?" he prompts.
"I heard something tonight in Sandrine's." There. Keep it simple, stupid. Start off with the basics and move on from there.
He stares at me impassively. "Oh."
Ah. I see. He's going to make me do all the work. Asshole. "I wanted ... I wanted to find out if it was true." God, listen to me, stammering like a fucking virgin. For an instant, fury rages through me, and I want nothing more than to smash in his damn face and wipe that hungry look away forever. But I can't. I'm not the one in control here, and we both know it.
"It's true."
I shut my eyes and slowly release all the air from my lungs, along with a hope so faint I didn't know it existed until now that it's gone.
"Oh." My voice is dim beneath the roaring of my blood in my ears. "Okay."
He's standing there watching me, head tilted a little to the side in what I could mistake for concern if I didn't know better. "Is it a problem for you?"
Problem? No, why should it be a problem? I'm having the best fucking day of my life. I breathe in deep and straighten up. Put your backbone in it, my dad always said, though god knows why I should start taking his advice today of all days. I pull a smile from somewhere and toss it in Chakotay's direction. "No, no problem. It caught me a little off guard, that's all. I didn't think you went in for that sort of thing."
I really didn't. I always thought Chakotay was one of the decent ones, one of the upstanding citizens the schools diligently try to teach us to be. Even when he commits a crime, it's for a noble cause. His side is always the right side, just because he's on it. That's why I saved his life on Ocampa, really. He's the kind of man who deserves to be saved. One of the good guys, full of honor and valor and integrity. He doesn't pull shit like this.
With a funny little grin on his face he says, "We're all full of surprises."
"Apparently." I'm still thinking that this is a sick Maquis joke, because Chakotay doesn't do this sort of stuff. It's not his style. I'm not his style. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, part of my brain is still deep in denial. "It's just a little hard to believe you actually want ..."
He cuts me right off. "I do."
Well, damn. It doesn't make any sense. "God, Chakotay, are we even talking about the same thing?"
"I want you," he says frankly.
Another faint hope bites the dust. I manage a weak, "Right," as an answer, but I can't meet his hotly assessing gaze. This whole conversation is unpleasantly surreal, and my thoughts are moving as slow as molasses. "Right. Okay, so we are talking about the same thing." My big insight for the day.
"I didn't mean for you to hear it from someone else," he says awkwardly.
Strangely enough, I sympathize, which kind of pisses me off. "Yeah, it's not exactly the kind of news you want making the rounds."
"I was going to tell you myself ..."
Now he sounds almost apologetic, which is ridiculous. I'm going dizzy trying to figure out what game he's playing. "Why didn't you? Hearing it from Chell of all people ..."
"I was waiting until I'd worked up the nerve."
What? Now I really am dizzy. The room is spinning slowly as I stare stupidly at him. "Worked up the nerve? Why?"
"I wasn't sure how you'd react."
Oh, my god. Oh my fucking god. It's so pathetic, it's funny. I laugh helplessly and turn away so he won't see the hysteria in my eyes. Chakotay must have given me credit for a much stronger spine than I possess if he thought I'd do anything other than come crawling to his quarters, ready to take whatever he dishes out. Because he is a decent guy, more or less, and decent guys make decent johns. He'll like it tender and soft and pretty, and he'll want me to enjoy myself too. The only thing he's going to hurt is my pride, which will heal, eventually. Stack up sex with Chakotay next to beatings from the Maquis, and it's no contest.
"For god's sake, Chakotay," I say when I've got myself under control, "did you actually think I'd say no?"
"It had crossed my mind," he says mildly. And you know what? I think he really believes I might have, which just makes this whole thing even more pathetic.
"Well, I won't." I turn back around because I can feel his eyes on me, and it's unnerving to know he's staring at my ass. "I'm not stupid. I'm not going to turn you down just because you took me by surprise." He's got this faint smile of victory on his face, but his eyes are filled with nothing but lust. And I just don't get it. I don't know where this is coming from. If this is what he wants from me, he could have had it months ago. It would have been less of a risk. I was less sure of myself then, had fewer friends, only tenuous trust from the Captain. If he'd approached me back then I'd have dropped to my hands and knees without blinking, so why wait until now when I might have felt secure enough to say no? It makes no sense. "I've just got to know why. I mean, why now? We've been out here for months, and you never ..."
"Things change," he says mildly. "Like you said, we've been out here for months."
Oh. The light dawns, finally. Seska's gone and he's grown tired of jacking off in the shower. "You got lonely?"
"Something like that."
"Something like." It's not really about me at all. I'm just convenient and easy and uncomplicated, and he knows damn well I'll keep it quiet. Now that it's all straightened out, the hard knot of tension in my chest unfurls a little. There's no getting out of it, so I might as well get it over with. I cross the room to him and study him from a few inches away. There's no denying he's a handsome man, and that always makes it a little easier. "Okay. Okay then."
He sways back a little and grabs onto a chair for support. I'm either too close or he's overcome with lust. I'm betting on the latter, and that's good. That makes it easier, too. I'm all for making it easier.
I lean in a little closer to him and pitch my voice nice and low. "How do you feel about kissing?"
He gulps, and I have to swallow a laugh. He's so nervous, you'd think it's his first time with a pro. "Generally I'm in favor of it."
"All right." It wasn't an idle question. I always ask, because for a lot of people, kissing crosses a comfort line that fucking doesn't. Most of the guys I know from Marseilles won't kiss the johns at all. They say it's too intimate, something to save for when they're fucking on their own time. Me, I think kissing is a hell of lot less intimate than having a guy's dick up my ass, and as for fucking on my own time, it's not like kissing a john has ever made me forget I'm on the clock. It's all just part of the service.
I lean in a little closer and kiss him lightly. I like to start slow and work my way into it. Chakotay moans just a little and leans into me, lips parting easily beneath my tongue. Automatically, I start taking mental notes. His breath catches slightly when I reach for his ass, so he's a contact guy. Likes a lot of touching. Nibbling on his lips doesn't elicit much of a response, but sucking on his tongue has him moaning. A hand on his neck is all right, but a hand in his hair makes him shiver ...
... all of a sudden a bolt of nausea lances through me, and I feel a little queasy. Is it actually possible that I've forgotten what it's like to do this? It's been less than a year since Chakotay pulled me off the streets of Marseilles. How could I have forgotten what it feels like to be the guy I was back then?
Not a good start to the evening. I turn away so I can pull myself back together in private.
Chakotay's breaths are hot and unsteady on the back of my neck. "Sorry," I mumble. "It's been a little while since I've done this."
"You haven't forgotten how, have you?" His voice is heavy and breathy, and fuck it, I think he's laughing. The prick.
I will not allow him to know how unsettled I am. "Like riding a bike, Chief." I hate this. I hate that I have to do this again. I wonder if he knows how hard this is for me, if he has any real idea how distasteful it is.
I turn back around to face him. It's suddenly necessary that he understand exactly why I'm really here. I don't want there to be any illusions about what this is. "I don't want any shit from the Maquis, Commander. There are too many of them."
"They're my crew," he says calmly. "They won't touch you if I tell them to leave you alone."
I grin at him, because it's so him to throw it out in the open like that. He's forthright and honest even when he's got a phaser to my head. Giving me the choice, one last time, to change my mind and take my chances with the Maquis. For a minute, I even consider it. But then common sense kicks in, and the decision is made for good this time. The scales haven't changed. Having sex with Chakotay is still better than getting the crap kicked out of me, even if it makes me a whore again. It's okay. I happen to be very good at it.
I smile at him, more honestly this time, and take him back in my arms. A few kisses across his chin and up his brow have him trembling. "Tell me what you like, Chief," I whisper. That's a personal quirk. I'll kiss a guy when I fuck him, but I won't call him by name. That's my comfort line.
Chakotay moans incoherently. Nice to see I haven't lost my touch. The analytical part of my brain turns on again, and I lead him gently to the bed, kissing him all the way. God, he's incredibly responsive, so easy to read. I was right; he likes it tender and soft and pretty, like we're two guys on a date instead of a hooker and his client. Which is fine by me, because it means I'll get to come, too. Nice bonus.
Because he's new to me, and because I know I'll be doing this many more times, I spend a while exploring his body, seeing what he likes, even finding a few things I'll bet he didn't know he liked. After a little while I've got a nice mental map of all his erogenous zones, and then I get down to serious business, going after them one at a time until Chakotay is a shivering, quivering wreck.
I take him to the brink three or four times before I finally let him mount me, and the wail of joy he makes when he finally sinks home is so heartfelt, I nearly come on the spot. A reflexive reaction to an orgasmic cry. Chakotay's obviously one of those guys who likes to come simultaneously. Fortunately, I've had a lot of practice, so I reign in my orgasm with relative ease. It won't be for long. Chakotay's so damn hard, I don't think he'll last two minutes.
I moan and growl because he likes it, and once he's found a rhythm I start thrusting back to meet him because he's the kind of guy who likes that, too. He's muttering soft nonsense under his breath, so he won't be a screamer, but that doesn't mean he won't want me to scream my head off. For now, to play it safe, I'll keep it quiet at the end. That's a little detail we can work out later on.
He's gasping and jerking erratically in and out, about to come, so I grab my cock and squeeze just right, and oh, sweet Jesus, it's nice.
After a muffled cry into my neck, Chakotay collapses on my back, his heart pounding a furious rhythm against me. In a minute, my arms and legs start trembling from carrying both our weight, so I shift gently out from under him and roll over onto my back, trying to catch my breath. Chakotay's heart is not the only one that's racing.
His voice is soft and awed. "That was unbelievable."
"Unbelievably bad, or unbelievably good?"
"Smartass."
Yeah, well, of course. Shouldn't be any surprise there. "Just checking."
"I can't imagine you get too many complaints."
Asshole. "No," I answer tiredly. "Not too many." The only whores who can charge as much as I did are the ones who are very very good at it. He recruited me in Marseilles. He knows how I used to earn my way. He must know, or he wouldn't have had the nerve to make this offer to me now. Still, there's no need to rub it in my face, after the ride I just gave him.
Sighing, I turn to face him, and holy shit! He's two inches away from me, staring at me with a creepy expression on his face. "I've got an early shift tomorrow," I say, pulling back with a jolt. "I'm going to head back to my quarters."
I don't look at him as I hunt for my clothes.
"Do you have to go?"
I stop in the middle of buttoning my shirt and stare at him. First he's mooning at me in bed, now he wants me to stay here and have another go round? Obviously we need to set some boundaries right here and right now. "Once a night's usually my limit."
"That's not what I meant. You could just stay here to sleep."
He's actually serious. Shit. Some guys won't kiss the johns. Me, I won't sleep with them. But Chakotay's got me over a barrel here, and I can only hope he won't force the issue, because when it comes down to it, he's the boss. "Is it going to be a problem if I don't?"
"No, of course not," he says mildly. "Maybe next time."
Or maybe never. I pull on the rest of my clothes as fast as I can. There's a bottle of Romulan ale in my quarters, and it's waiting impatiently for me.
I'm almost out the door when he asks, "There will be a next time, won't there?"
Stopping in the doorway, I stare at him again, wondering if he really thinks I'm that stupid, or whether he just wants to hear me say it out loud. Probably the latter. I'll bet he gets off on just knowing that he's got me at his beck and call. "Whenever you want, Chief. Just comm me."
He gazes at me, black eyes dark and a little frightening in the intensity of the promise. "I will."
With a whisper, the doors shut behind me and I escape down the corridor into the nearest turbolift. If the gods are at all kind, I'll make it back to my quarters before anyone gets close enough to me to catch of whiff of what I've just been doing. The Maquis are going to know, obviously, but they'll keep it to themselves because they won't want it getting back to the Captain any more than I do.
Of course, people talk, and the Captain will find out eventually, unless I figure out some way to call it off before then. Chakotay will probably just say it was consensual or else he'll figure out a way to blame it all on me.
The memory of his eyes, dark and intent, surfaces briefly in my mind, and I shudder.
Life just got a whole lot worse.
~~~ Fin ~~~
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